Sapphire Nights (Crystal Magic Book 1)(99)
“Gump.” Harvey spat out the name as if it were a bad taste. “He’s planting something under Bald Rock. He could be carrying a detonator.”
Walker bit back bile and studied the enormous boulder above. “Sam and Valdis?”
“Farm. Daisy has a hiding place. I don’t know how safe it is if half a mountain falls on it.” Harvey looked pale and grim. “We’re tuned to the crystal vibrations. We can divert a partial slide. We can’t predict results though.”
Diverting a landslide was a particularly high level of crazy to accept. “Is there any reason to believe he planted explosives and not his dear dead mother’s diary?”
Harvey lifted a black brow in disbelief.
Walker sighed. Right. Xavier had said a killer was up here. There was no good reason for a wealthy city real estate mogul to suddenly be hiking around on Bald Rock—in a green jacket. Walker’s gut said he needed a SWAT team. The Lucys apparently felt the same way, except their SWAT team was a little unorthodox.
“I’m going up on Bald Rock,” Walker said. “The sheriff’s men are up at the lodge. I’ve radioed them. If the mountain blows, you’ll need all the help you can get. Try not to drive off the authorities.”
He didn’t wait for Harvey’s response. Gut instinct said Gump had motive and opportunity for two murders. Xavier’s warning might be that of a drug-addled madman, but Walker had learned his lesson. He couldn’t ignore whatever voices spoke in the old man’s head. Lives might depend on listening.
He wished he’d really listened to Tess. Maybe he could have prevented tragedy. This time, failure would devastate an entire town.
By the time Walker reached the summit, he could see the stout real estate mogul sliding down from Bald Rock. His feet had just hit the narrow ledge below, the one where they’d laid out Valdis the other night.
Crossing his arms and firmly planting his boots on safe ground, Walker blocked the rock path over the snake’s nest.
“Fine evening for a hike,” he said, studying the usually elegant businessman.
Gump had discarded his designer suit coat and was wearing what had to be Xavier’s green jacket—it was three sizes too small for his portly stature.
The green would be highly visible against the browns of the cliff. If he’d seen it, others had. If anything happened—most people would blame Xavier. Or would have, if Xavier hadn’t escaped whatever Gump had done to him.
“Just checking the million-dollar view,” Gump said affably, slicking back his glossy blond hair. “Remove a few of those trees and tenants can watch a sunset over the ocean. What brings you up here?”
Only a sociopath could believe he was so slick that Walker would accept this scenario without question. “Xavier,” Walker said tersely. “Did you think you could blame your next evil deed on the old man if you set him loose?” Damn, he sounded like the Lucys.
Gump tried to edge past Walker. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have a meeting with the Kennedys, if you’d let me pass.”
“The Kennedys know about the deed. They know you have no right to build on this land. Did you think the owners would never come back?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said irritably. “I worked hard and mortgaged my life for this place. In a few years, we’ll all be rich.”
Mortgaged his life maybe, but not the land he didn’t own. “Want to give me Xavier’s jacket? There’s something in the pocket he wants back,” Walker lied.
He was facing the man who may have cold-bloodedly killed his father. Lying wasn’t the only sin he’d commit to get the truth. But if there was any chance Gump really was carrying a detonator, the situation needed to be de-escalated pronto.
Gump laughed a little nervously. “Xavier’s a nutcase. This is my team jacket from the old days, bit of nostalgia, I guess. Didn’t want to ruin the Armani.”
Yeah, because it was so cold up here in the ninety-degree sun that he needed a coat.
“The jacket, Gump,” Walker insisted, putting a threat into his stance as well as his voice. The sheriff could fire him later. He maintained his most intimidating, arms-crossed, beefcake stance. Pity Sam couldn’t see him.
“What is this, some kind of highway robbery over a damned cheap jacket? If you’re that desperate—” The older man began shrugging out of the too-tight sleeves. Not even a crow cried as he tugged it off.
A humming chant filled the eerily silent air. A mechanical device tumbled from the coat’s pocket—into the snakes’ rocky nest below.
Chapter 32
“Here,” Daisy shouted, stabbing her staff into a crystal-lined pit in the concrete floor as the ground began to rumble. “Connect them here.”
Val did the same with her staff, then yanked Sam’s in the same direction when she didn’t respond fast enough.
Sam almost fell backward from the earth energy surging through the wood as it touched the other two. Terrified, she grabbed the staff’s grip with both hands and hung on, praying to whatever gods might be watching that she wasn’t harnessing a dragon.
A shattering boom shook the bunker. She bit back a shriek as pieces of rotten concrete tumbled from the walls, creating a fog of dust. Glancing fearfully at the ceiling, she didn’t see cracks, but the crystals blazed a brighter blue. That’s when she noticed their staff crystals glowed weirdly. The effect of concrete dust?