Eye of the Falcon (Psychic Visions #12)(15)

“I have to get my laptop out of the truck,” she said. “I should be able to transfer them to that. It’s a new system. I’m still learning how to use it.”

“And this is a good test subject.”

“Hell, no, it’s not.”

Isolated in her room, Issa heard the front door close; then, in the distance, a vehicle door opening and closing. Her mind catalogued the sounds. Footsteps as the woman returned.

“Give me a cup of coffee. This could take a bit.”

“Will do.”

“What the hell’s that I’m smelling?”

“Chicken soup.”

The woman snorted. “What? Your grandmother’s recipe?”

His tone neutral, he said, “Absolutely.”

“Well, she was a hell of a cook. So are you sharing?”

Even Issa had to smile at that—her movements difficult, awkward, as if rusty from lack of use. Maybe it was the mention of a grandmother that brought her own mother to mind. Whatever had happened to her apartment? She’d left it for Goodwill to come pick up the boxes. The manager knew what was happening. Had they shown up? How long ago had that been? And the ashes? She’d put them in her root cellar with the boxes. How pathetic was that. Her mother reduced to a spot in a root cellar, of all places.

A strong aroma wafted toward her. She lifted her head and sniffed. How long since she’d eaten? She had no answers. So much was a black hole. Yet so much else she couldn’t forget. The beatings. The systematic torture. The questions. Where is it? Tell us where you hid it all. Repeatedly. It hadn’t taken them long to expand their vocabulary to What did you do with it? We want what is owed us.

She frowned as that came into her mind. She lay here, wishing for a little bit of the warm broth. Roash flew off from her bed and headed to the kitchen.

“Goddamn that thing …” Eagle said. “Yet it never really leaves her side. He must have had a reason.”

Roash cried out suddenly, his wild call filling the room.

“Maybe the bird’s hungry,” the woman said.

There was an odd silence. Issa smiled, only to gasp in silent wonder as her rescuer made the connection. And said, “Maybe he’s telling us she’s hungry.”

The gruff voice snapped, “This is already past spooky. Let’s not go straight into the bizarre.”

The man laughed. “You have no idea how spooky and bizarre this is. Eerie even.”

“Eagle, you call me out of the blue to bring my brand-new machine over to check out the woman’s condition. A woman who’s already so badly broken she should be in the hospital, and yet you refuse to take her there. You are taking in broken animals, but even you know when to call a vet. Yet, when this woman needs so much more, you don’t give it to her.”

“That’s not true,” he protested. “I help every animal that comes across my path. She’s just another one.”

“Then why shouldn’t I call the sheriff?”

Issa strained to hear his answer. She didn’t want the authorities involved, yet couldn’t explain that instinctive response either. The men who kidnapped and tortured her should be stopped. They shouldn’t be allowed to get away with what they’d done to her. Yet she didn’t think they’d do this to another woman. She’d been their target for a long time. She just didn’t understand why.

His voice was hard when he finally answered the gruff woman. “Will you?”

After a heavy sigh, the harsh voice said, “Hell no. Where’s that damn soup?”

There was clang of dishes, and Issa could follow the sounds as the man served up a bowl followed by the clunk as he placed it on the table. Then she heard Roash’s cry in the dark.

The woman gave a crackle. “I can’t believe you have those two here. You should feed them. After all, you’re feeding me.”

“I planned on it.”

Moments later she heard footsteps approach. She didn’t know if she should pretend to be asleep or not. But, as the aroma drifted closer, she realized she was desperate to put something in her stomach other than acid and whatever blood might still be there.

A soft light was turned on at her side, and a bowl placed on the night table.

“I know you’re awake. You don’t need to be afraid.”

“Thank you for treating my wounds.” She shifted in the bed and turned to look up at him. “You’ve been very kind to me.”

He shook his head. “I might’ve killed you, not knowing how bad your injuries are.”

She glanced at the bowl. “I was hoping you would share.”

“It’s not in my nature to not share. Particularly with someone who’s hurting.”

She studied him and then her position. “I don’t know if I can sit up,” she confessed softly.

“I doubt you can, at least not easily,” said the gruff woman from behind him. “Let Eagle help you.”

Issa glanced out the doorway to see a large burly woman in a plaid overshirt, her grizzled hair gray and her face lined with wrinkles.

“I have some of the X-rays processing on my laptop now. What the hell happened to you?”

Issa let her gaze drift toward the gruff woman and saw such a sense of wholeness about her. Issa was determined to do the right thing but by her own honor code, not necessarily by the one others followed.