Blood, Ash, and Bone

CHAPTER Sixteen

Boone watched me approach. He wore tiny round spectacles that intensified his eyes, hazel green going to ice-gray at the edges, like moss caught in a frost.

He pulled off the glasses. “Well, look at you.”

I stepped into his embrace. His chest felt thin against mine, and I realized he was skin and bone under his jacket. His scent was a punch in the memory banks—Red Man chewing tobacco and Lifebuoy soap.

Jefferson watched from the edge of the wooded trail. Darker in hair, keener of eye, and swarthier than his brother, he had the calm authority of the eldest son. Despite his demeanor, I knew he was on red alert. So were Jasper and Trey back in the observation room. Boone and I were the epicenter of so much aggression-fueled focus, I thought we might combust like ants under a magnifying glass.

Boone examined Trey with sharp appraisal. “You brought muscle?”

“No. That’s my boyfriend.”

“He’s a cop.”

“Ex-cop.”

“Same difference.” Boone polished his glasses on his sleeve. “He’s got Black Irish in him.”

“On his mother’s side, yes.”

“And his father?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. The man abandoned his family when Trey was two.”

Boone regarded Trey with new eyes. In the enclosure, the wolf closest to us stopped pacing and turned its nose into the wind. It was colored the hard pale white of quartz, its every movement honed and deliberate.

Boone put his glasses back on. “So what ant hill you gone and stirred up now?”

I told him the story. He eyed me with curiosity. “You think somebody killed that old man down in Florida?”

“The autopsy said natural causes.”

Boone smiled wryly. “Every death’s from natural causes.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. But you got this story secondhand from John Wilde.” He spat on the ground. “Why concern yourself with his business?”

“Because that’s all it is—business. You know how that goes.”

He clucked his tongue. “So what do you want from me?”

“Information.”

“Why should I help you now?”

“Oh, come on, Boone!”

“I haven’t heard a word from you since your mama’s funeral.”

“And you know that’s not true. I sent you a thank-you card for those flowers. The ones you didn’t put your name on? The pot of marigolds? Don’t even pretend that wasn’t you.”

He didn’t deny the accusation.

“So help me or don’t help me, but don’t make it about what an ungrateful wretch I am.”

He smiled. “Did I say I wouldn’t help you? I made up my mind when I heard you were coming back home.”

I didn’t ask him how he’d heard. He kept his ears pricked, like the wolves.

“I’m out of my league here,” I said. “Trey’s equipped to deal with this kind of stuff—”

“He looks like it.”

I laughed. Boone wasn’t one to be fooled by a little Armani. I glanced over at the observation area. Trey was watching one of the wolves, a dark gray creature as lean as a shadow. The wolf was watching him right back.

I turned back to Boone. “But this is my battle, not Trey’s. And I don’t want it following me back to Atlanta.”

“Makes sense. Anything in particular you want to know about?”

“This woman, for starters.” I handed him the still shot from the elevator footage. “Her name is Hope Lyle, although she may be using an alias.”

He examined the image, then shook his head. “Nothing on her.”

“How about this guy, Winston Cargill?” I handed him another printout, pulled from the Lowcountry Excursion website, featuring Winston resplendent in one of his Hawaiian shirts. “He’s hiding something, for sure, including a big box of something under his front counter.”

Boone looked at me over his glasses. “You heard I’m on the straight and narrow, right? Don’t reckon I’ll be peeking under any man’s front counter.”

“I’m not here to sic a burglar on anybody. All I want is information.”

“About these two?”

“Yes. And the local Klan. Rumor has it they’re poking about in the same spots I am.”

The words fell between us into a flat uncomfortable silence. Boone looked significantly at Jefferson, who returned the gaze evenly. Then he looked at me.

“I don’t run with that crowd anymore. But they know better than to lay a hand on you.”

“Are they in the trade right now?”

“What trade?”

“The Confederate relic trade.”

Boone scratched the back of his neck. “I suppose so.”

“Will they be at the Expo?”

“Guess you’ll find out tomorrow, won’t you?”

“So—”

“That’s all I’m saying. You’ll have to figure out the rest yourself. But watch yourself, girl. The brotherhood does not play.”

I didn’t ask any more questions. Information was a commodity, after all; it had its own systems of commerce. I leaned on the wooden railing next to Boone. The wolves went about their business.

Boone waved his hand at the gathered pack. “Which one you think is the alpha?”

The slate-colored wolf was now sitting right in front of Boone, staring at him with challenge in its clear gray eyes. I pointed.

Boone shook his head. “Nah. That’s Cheyenne. He’s the beta.”

I looked over to where Trey stood. A large silver-gray wolf now paced back and forth in front of him. It reminded me of the way Trey paced sometimes, tight turns, repetitive.

“That one?”

“Nope. That’s Brook. Mid-level.” Boone pointed. “See the white one over there, next to the den?”

“The one that’s asleep?”

“Pfft. He’s not asleep. That’s Odin. All the other guys are scrambling for any opportunity that comes, but Odin? He knows he’s top dog.” Boone put a foot against the fence and leaned forward. “Your feller over there? He’s all alpha. Probably quiet, though, when he’s not knocking heads. Real clear ideas about right and wrong. Reads people like a book.”

I kept my expression blank. Yes, Trey could read people, but only the lies, which lit up their faces like Times Square billboards. The motives behind the lies remained opaque to him.

I smiled Boone’s way. “They teach you that psychology stuff in the big house? Or you been watching Dr. Phil?”

Boone laughed until he started coughing. Jefferson took a step closer, his features knit in concern, but Boone waved him back. Eventually he got his breath again, and Jefferson settled down.

Across the enclosure, I noticed another wolf rise, this time a mottled black and gray one. It shook off the dust, dipped its nose into the stream. Every other wolf in the enclosure looked its way, suddenly on point.

Boone jabbed his chin in its direction. “See that one?”

I squinted across the enclosure. The wolf was smaller than the others, self-contained and compact. “Another beta?”

“No, that’s Buckeye. A female, the only one in the pack right now.” Boone looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “And that makes her the most powerful creature out there.”