The Graves of Plague Canyon (The Downwinders Book 3) Page 13

  Deem’s mouth dropped open.

  “It’s always bombs with you Mormons,” Winn said.

  “Why not just tell us?” Deem asked.

  Carma turned back to face Deem. “Because, my dear, I feared that your father might have stored his journals there. I was worried that this would destroy them. And if I’m right, they’re lost now. I wanted to wait until you had a chance to infiltrate it and see, to make sure they weren’t there, but Lyman decided to go ahead with the bombing anyway. We were under a certain time pressure; Lyman was worried they’d discover our plan and move their assets out before we could complete it. He felt your father’s journals were not there. I wasn’t so sure. So I didn’t want to tell you about it, for that reason.”

  Deem slowly leaned back in her chair, unsure of how to respond. Carma was wringing her hands in front of her, waiting for a reply, but she didn’t know what to say. Finally she spoke.

  “So all the while I’m off looking for shit to help out Lizzy, you two are here planning to blow up my father’s journals?”

  “Hey, I wasn’t involved!” Winn said.

  “I meant Carma and Lyman,” Deem replied.

  “It’s not quite like that,” Carma said. “Lyman felt the retaliation for Claude’s murder had to be big and swift. The explosion at the cannery has wiped out almost all of their physical assets. They had a huge weapons cache there, along with all kinds of nefarious objects.”

  “And my father’s journals?” Deem asked.

  “I felt they might be there,” Carma said. “It was one place they could be, if they exist. But Lyman insisted they weren’t there. There’s good reason to believe Lyman. He’s usually right.”

  “But you didn’t believe him?” Deem asked. “That’s why you didn’t want to tell me about it?”

  “Basically,” Carma said, sitting back down. “That and Lyman swore me to secrecy. I know how much those journals mean to you. If there was a chance they were there, I wanted you to have an opportunity to find them.”

  “Maybe I should talk to Lyman,” Deem said.

  “Oh, he’s going to be very cross with me for telling you,” Carma said. “I’m not going down when you talk to him.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Carma,” Deem said. “I knew something was going on. I figured it out on my own. You tried your best to hide it, but you’re just not very good at covering things up.”

  “Yes, I’m horrible at that, I know, just awful at it,” she replied, reaching for a cigarette and lighting it. “That’s one of the reasons Lyman doesn’t like me to leave the house.”

  “When does the moon rise tonight?” Deem asked.

  “Around 9:30,” Carma replied. “Lyman is probably right, you know. I just wanted you to check to be sure, before we blew it up. If he says your father’s journals weren’t at the cannery, they probably were not.”

  “I’d like to hear that from him,” Deem said. “If that’s all right with you.”

  “Perfectly fine with me, dear,” Carma said. “He likes you a lot, anyway. You telling him that you found out about all this instead of me telling him seems like the preferable option.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, no one saying anything, each of them wrapped up in their own thoughts.

  “I’m going to scan documents for a while,” Deem said, rising up from the chair. “Excuse me.”

  She walked out of the drawing room and back to the office near the front of the house where Claude’s files were stored. She opened her laptop and while it booted up she could hear Winn and Carma talking quietly in the other room.

  Talking about me and my reaction, no doubt, she thought.

  The clock on her laptop read 6:30. She hadn’t had anything to eat since she stopped at a drive thru on her drive out to Fredonia, but she wasn’t hungry. She’d lost her appetite.

  She picked up the next document in the banker’s box and placed it on the glass of the scanner, then clicked her laptop. The bright light of the scanner tossed out moving light into the room from the edges of the scanner’s lid. She lifted the lid and pulled off the document, flipped it over, and lowered the lid.

  She kept it up for three hours.

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  “Lyman?” she called, alone in the underground tunnel. Carma had definitely elected to remain upstairs, and Winn had said he would accompany her if she wanted, but he was limping and she didn’t feel like she needed any anyone to go with her. She preferred to talk to Lyman on her own.

  “Lyman, come out please,” she said, sitting at the sole piece of furniture in the room, a small table with two chairs. Deem imagined Carma sitting where she was sitting now, plotting with Lyman in the other chair.

  As if on cue, Lyman appeared in the chair, exactly the way she’d imagined him. Deem dropped into the River.

  Is this the table where you plot bombings? Deem asked.

  Lyman smiled at her. Rhetorical? Or sarcasm? Maybe both?

  It’s just a question, Deem replied, looking away from him. His stare was too penetrative, and it bothered her. Are the explosives stored here? Am I sleeping each night on top of a powder keg?

  No, there are no explosives here, Lyman replied. We keep them stored in a variety of places.

  Deem looked back up at him, and saw the most tender expression she’d ever seen — it rivaled her father when he’d been the most sensitive to her. It made tears start to form in her eyes and made it hard for her to ask the next question.

  How could you? she asked. When there was a chance his journals were there?

  They weren’t there, Lyman said.

  Carma thought they might be, Deem said.

  I told her they weren’t, Lyman said. Carma can be headstrong in her opinions, just like another beautiful woman I know.

  Deem glanced up at him again, and his sixteen-year-old features threw her. She knew he had the experiences of a much older man, experiences she probably would shudder to learn about. Even the ones she knew of were horrific. But his young face, so calm and unruffled by Deem’s emotion, derailed her anger.

  How can you be sure? she asked, almost pleadingly. She wanted to believe him, but needed more.

  I sent someone in to check for them before we blew it up, Lyman said. They reported to me that there were no documents there of any kind.

  You sent someone? Why not me?

  You’re way too high on their radar right now, Deem, Lyman said patiently. It would have tipped off our whole operation. I had to send in someone they weren’t tracking. But I want you to know I made sure your father’s journals weren’t there.

  Deem sighed. Lyman’s explanation made sense.

  Carma wasn’t supposed to tell you, Lyman said. She swore to me that she wouldn’t.

  I figured it out on my own, Deem said.

  Beautiful and smart, Lyman replied. You scanning documents and off looking for callum was a perfect diversion for the council. But they were getting close to figuring things out. We had to act quickly.

  This was revenge? For Claude? She asked. It seems so extreme.

  Lyman rose from his chair and began to pace behind it. Not just Claude. Several years ago, things were quieter. Ever since your father passed, though, things have become worse. You know those bodies you found in Left Hand?

  Yes, she replied.

  That still goes on, to this day, Lyman said. The gifted Mormons hunt down the gifted apostates, just like the 1800s. I’ve been fighting against them for a hundred and fifty years. Every now and again someone like your father rises in their ranks, and things calm down; they bring a halt to the bloodshed for a while, a detente. But your father left us too early, Deem. If he’d not died of cancer, we might have had another twenty years of relative peace. His replacement — well, you know him. He’s a hard-liner, and he’s been stirring things up. In addition to Claude, two bodies buried in the desert, their throats slashed from ear to ear. A man in Rockville shot in the head, made to look like a suicide. Just over the hill from here, in Silver Ree
f, they disemboweled a man and fed his insides to a pig while he was still alive. All gifteds.

  Deem closed her eyes and shuddered.

  And of course, you know what they did to me, all those years ago, he said.

  Deem nodded. She remembered Carma’s story about Lyman’s brutal castration.

  So I don’t harbor any pity for them, Deem, and you shouldn’t either. None whatsoever. They’ll do the same to you, if they can arrange it.

  I made a deal with Dayton, she replied. He forgave me, he stopped the excommunication. He thinks I’m on the straight and narrow.

  You shouldn’t assume he’s that gullible, Lyman replied. He’ll say one thing while doing another. I know they’re tracking you. They know you’re here, staying in my house for protection.

  Do they know about Claude’s papers? Deem asked.

  I don’t think so, Lyman replied, but if things were really back to normal, you’d be back in Mesquite, right? Staying at home, helping your mom with the groceries and doing the yard work.

  You’re right, Deem said. Do you know how they track people?

  Not with that clumsy device you and your friend used! Lyman laughed. They don’t need electronics. They have people everywhere who’ll keep an eye out for anything and report back when they see things. You’d never be able to figure out who’s on their side and who isn’t.

  I want to help, Deem said. If you’re going to take more action against Dayton and his council, I want in. I can help.

  Lyman smiled at her again, studying her face. He didn’t speak, just watched her, and Deem felt self-conscious, worried that he was about to turn her down.

  I’ll keep that in mind, he finally said, and faded until he was gone.

  Deem stood, pushing back the chair. She felt like she was in a daze, the recipient of too much information in too short of a time. She walked back through the tunnel and to the house, her mind racing, not remembering the trek. When she emerged through the closet and into the basement family room, Carma and Winn were standing right there, waiting for her.

  “Well?” Winn asked. “What did he say?”

  “I guess you’re right, Carma,” Deem said. “My father’s journals weren’t there. He sent someone in to check, before you blew it up.”

  “A minor detail he didn’t share with me,” Carma said, grabbing Deem by the arm to steady her. “Do you feel alright? You look a little shaky.”

  “I’m OK,” Deem said. “I think so.”

  “How about we take you up to bed?” Carma said. “You’ve both had one hell of a couple of days. A long night’s rest is in order. Come on, we’ll escort you.”

  They led Deem upstairs and got her situated into bed, Carma shooing Winn out of the room as she helped Deem undress. The coolness of the sheets felt good against her body, and Deem suddenly realized Carma was right — it had been an exhausting couple of days, with an uncomfortable sleep the night before. Her eyes were closed almost before she could finish the thought.

  Chapter Twelve

  Deem was roused by a knocking at her door.

  “Are you decent, dear?” she heard, then Carma burst inside. Deem looked up at her, trying to focus. Carma looked unusually tall.

  “Someone’s here to see you,” Carma said cheerily. “Well, to see us. Since it’s about Lizzy, I thought you should be involved.”

  Deem stared up at Carma. She seemed to be towering over her. “Are you taller?” she asked, trying to wipe the sleep from her eyes.

  “Oh, yes, these!” Carma said, raising a leg and showing Deem a platform shoe.

  “They’re huge!” Deem said, observing the wide six-inch risers.

  “Yes, I feel like I’m on stilts!” Carma said, spinning around and heading back for the door. “Get cleaned up and come down. She’s waiting.”

  Deem watched as Carma passed under the threshold without ducking, clearing it by less than an inch.

  She swung her feet to the floor and rubbed her face, trying to wake up. She pulled on a pair of jeans and stumbled to the bathroom across the hall, splashing water on her face and checking her hair. Then she walked back to her bedroom, searched for a clean shirt, and hurried downstairs. The clock in the hallway read nine-thirty.

  Carma called to her from the living room, a room rarely used in Carma’s house. Deem turned and walked toward her voice. Carma was standing in the hallway, and Deem marveled again at how tall she appeared.

  “Deem, come in, please meet Samaria Moon, from Blanding,” she motioned to the living room entrance, where a very large Samoan woman was standing. She had a large flower in her hair, and sideburns.

  “Hi,” Deem mustered, extending her hand and shielding her eyes from the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Samaria shook her hand, and Deem couldn’t help thinking that it felt manly.

  “Please forgive her; she’s just woken up,” Carma said. “Late night.”

  They all took seats in the living room. “So Samaria here was just telling me she has some news about Lizzy,” Carma said. “Would you mind repeating what you told me to Deem, and we’ll all get caught up?”

  “I’m the one who poisoned Lizzy,” Samaria said without blinking an eye. Her voice was low, but not so low that it couldn’t be a woman’s. “And I’m a little upset that you’ve gone and rescued her. It took me weeks to plan it all out.”

  Deem turned to Carma and raised her hands in confusion. “Huh?” she asked Carma.

  “Samaria’s been telling me we made a mistake in curing Lizzy with the callum,” Carma said. “Turns out Lizzy was an assassin. Coffee?”

  Deem shook her head, unsure she wasn’t dreaming.

  “I’d love some,” Samaria said. Carma walked out of the living room and disappeared.

  “Listen baby, are you the one who scored the callum?” Samaria asked.

  “Yes,” Deem replied. “I did it because Lizzy is Carma’s niece. She asked me to help.”

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “Callum’s the only cure for what I did to her, and I haven’t seen any of it around here in years. So I’d like to know, baby.”

  “Would you please stop calling me baby?”

  “It’s a term of affection,” Samaria replied, “at least for the moment. Trust me, you’d rather I call you that than some of the other names I could call you if we don’t wind up getting along like I’m hoping we do. Now, about the callum.”

  “Well, I’d like to tell you, but I can’t. It would compromise someone I made a promise to. Can we back up for a moment? Why were you poisoning Lizzy? She’s an assassin? Did I hear that right?”

  “Lizzy Tait has been taking assassin contracts from the Page council for the past two years,” Samaria said, “and I’ve been following her for a year, at Brother Jorgensen’s request. I believe Lyman and Carma know Brother Jorgensen, from Moab.”

  “I do know Brother Jorgensen,” Carma said as she returned to the room with a pot of coffee in hand. She poured a cup for Samaria and handed it to her, then turned to Deem.

  “No, thanks,” Deem said.

  Carma poured a small amount into a mug and handed it to Deem anyway. “To smell,” she said, smiling, then turned to Samaria. “Deem loves the smell of coffee, but hasn’t yet acquired the taste.”

  “It’s because she’s so young,” Samaria said. “What are you, baby, sixteen?”

  “Nearly twenty-one,” Deem replied.

  “You said you’ve been tracking Lizzy for a year now?” Carma asked, pouring her own mug and sitting next to Samaria. “What have you discovered?”

  “I was telling Deem that Lizzy’s been taking contracts from the Page council. And a few from St. George, too. They know her better in Page, but St. George likes using her because she’s so quiet and lethal.”

  “You know this for a fact?” Carma asked. “You saw her do it?”

  “I did,” Samaria said. “A husband and wife, out in the desert off old Highway 91. She slit their throats while t
hey were bound from behind and dumped their bodies in a grave she dug herself. Saw the whole thing through binoculars. Got coordinates if you want them.”

  David’s parents? Deem wondered. “Yes, I’d like the coordinates. Were they both gifted?”

  “All the contracts are on gifteds, baby,” Samaria said, “and the number’s been increasing lately. Brother Jorgensen suspected Lizzy from the beginning, but he asked me to get proof. I followed her for a good long time, and I’m pretty sure she killed a number of people while I was tracking her, but I didn’t catch her in the act. Once I saw her kill those two in the desert, I told Brother Jorgensen about it, and he asked me to use her up. I spent the last three weeks planning out how to get to her, how to infect her so no one would know who did it. I didn’t want any blowback on Brother Jorgensen. Then you come along and screw it all up! Now she’s back in the game.”

  “The couple she killed,” Deem asked. “Were they from Ivins?”

  “Yes, they were,” Samaria replied.

  “Shit,” Deem said, looking down.

  “What?” Carma asked. “Did you know them?”

  “I know their son,” Deem said. “Who’s now an orphan.”

  “We also think she killed Claude Peterson.”

  Deem slowly raised her head to stare Samaria in the face. “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure, baby,” Samaria said. “Why do you think I was willing to poison her?”

  Deem turned to Carma. “We made a big mistake.”

  “I agree,” Carma said. “Believe me, I wouldn’t have asked you to help save her if I had known. I have a lot of nieces out there these days, and I have to admit I don’t keep very good track of them. When Ester called me, I didn’t think twice.”

  “Does Ester know about Lizzy?” Deem asked Samaria.

  “She thinks her daughter is well liked by the church hierarchy,” Samaria replied, “and that’s all she cares about.”

  “Fuck,” Deem said, placing her head in her hands and resting her elbows on her knees. She rubbed at her face, becoming more and more angry as she thought about David and how frightened he was. Then she remembered walking into Claude’s home with Winn and Awan, discovering his body with the killer still there. Could the killer have been Lizzy? she wondered, trying to remember what had happened that night. Awan’s words came back to her, saying he wasn’t sure if it had been a man or a woman — whoever had done it was completely covered. It could have been her, she thought.