Bone Music (Burning Girl #1)(65)

“Something like that, yeah.”

Luke nods. If he’s about to say anything else, it’s cut off by the chirping sound that suddenly fills the Jeep.

Jason’s phone is ringing.

“Pull over,” she says.





23

“Charlotte?”

She walks slowly toward the shade offered by the nearest oak tree. Her heart’s pounding from the sound of Dylan’s voice. It’s filled her with all the feelings his drug relieved her of the night before, and the night before that. Made her feel weak, flushed, and powerless.

Will a simple conversation with Dylan be enough to set her recent dose of Zypraxon, almost an hour old by now, loose in her system?

As if any conversation between her and Dylan will ever be simple again.

They never were.

Once inside the tree’s umbrella of shade, she turns. Sees Luke standing in front of his Jeep. Steadily he looks back and forth in both directions along the empty two-lane blacktop, his hand resting against his gun hip protectively. Protecting her, it seems. That’s a comfort, at least.

“Charlotte?” Dylan says.

“I’m here.”

“Looks like you’re building some sort of team. Are you sure you can trust them?”

She scans the empty fields, the mountains on either side of the valley. They’re in the middle of someone’s definition of nowhere, but he can see her.

“Trust is important,” she manages.

“In certain situations, yes.”

“But not in ours?”

“I’m here for you, Charley. I’ve always been here for you.”

“Always?”

“From the beginning of our relationship, I mean.”

“You call this a relationship?” she asks.

“Of course it is. Not all relationships are sexual.”

“I’m asking about your relationship to the concept of trust,” she says.

“Ah, I see.”

“Do you? Do you see me right now? Is that how you know I’m not alone?”

“I thought Altamira would be your last choice, to be frank. But I guess it makes sense. So what did it come down to? The choice between San Francisco or your old hometown, or the choice between Kayla and Marty?”

This is a safe guess based on what he knows about her, the fact that she’d call Kayla or Marty for help. Maybe she’s overreacting.

“So where are you headed now? An overnight in Cambria? Maybe a nice little bed-and-breakfast close to the beach with your handsome new friend? You might want to give him permission to relieve himself. He’s looking a little shifty, if you get my drift.”

Sure enough, Luke is pacing slowly on the road side of the Jeep. He must be wondering what the hell he’s gotten himself into. But from a distance he probably looks exactly like someone who needs to pee.

Jesus Christ . . .

The wind knocked out of her, she looks to the sky, to the fibrous strands of clouds threaded across the dome of blue. She’s thinking of satellites and drones and all the other so-called technological marvels shrinking the world down to a screen. Somehow Dylan has access to such tools.

But then she realizes what he doesn’t seem to know. Like the fact that she and Luke are headed for a library in Paso Robles. Or what they talked about with Bailey before they left. Or who Luke even is. Or maybe he does and he’s holding it back to see how much she’ll tell him. Or worse, he’ll learn those things in time now that he’s caught up to her.

“Trust is one of those words that’s lost its meaning—don’t you think?” he says. “It used to mean the ability to keep a secret when someone asked you to. Now it’s an unreasonable request we make of people we’re trying to control, a demand that they buy into our illusions of who we are. That they never question our fantasies. That they never introduce anything into our world that upsets us, changes us. Educates us.”

“You’re a sociopath.”

“Maybe. But I get a lot done.”

“Who are you?”

“You can tell Kayla to stop digging in to my past. She won’t find much. Not the juicy stuff anyway. And as I’m sure you know, the best cover stories are as close to the truth as you can make them. I only told you one real lie, Charley. My last name. The rest? Well, they were sins of omission mostly. And let’s just say none of the work I did on behalf of Uncle Sam is sitting on a server waiting for a diligent lawyer to find it.”

“Is that who helped you track me to the middle of an empty field? The military?”

His laughter is gentle. “Oh, no. I’ve traded up from the military. Way up.”

“But you’re still afraid to confront me face-to-face. And so are they, apparently, whoever the hell they are. What with my ability to break their arms and all.”

“I see. So you’ve taken it again, have you? Is that what you did last night? Break some arms? Did they deserve it at least?”

“Wouldn’t you know if I had?”

Silence. She just scored a point without meaning to.

He doesn’t know. So whatever the net of surveillance he’s thrown around her, and Kayla and Luke and Marty, it’s got gaps. Limits. Or maybe there was a delay. Maybe he didn’t pick her up until she reached Altamira.