Page 44 of Graveyard Dog

Izzy was finding his behavior more and more bizarre. Road rage was his favorite kind of rage, but he’d let someone honk at him without the barest hint of a consequence? Maybe the psych ward really had changed him.

“Not that I didn’t appreciate the effort she put into our sex life. Know what I mean?” He looked her up and down and glared at her. “Seat belt.”

She peeled her hands off the arm rests and put on her belt.

“Anyway, I’ve had her looking for you for the past two years. Nothing. You were a ghost. Imagine my surprise when my very own Isadora showed up on the news at a convenience store robbery in South Texas. That man could not confess fast enough.” He tsked and shook his head. “Always sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. She got your name from the cops and tracked you down from there. That’s when I knew it was time to make my big escape.”

Izzy had had about enough of his life story. She smirked at him and said, “Don’t you have a birdhouse to build?”

“What?” He cupped a hand over his ear to hear her better, then threw his head back in laughter. “Oh, I can’t hear you. I’m officially deaf now.” The smile that slithered across his face made her shudder. “You can’t do jack shit to me if I can’t hear you, yeah?” He reached over and grabbed her face as they sat at a stoplight, squeezing until she felt her cut into her cheeks. She fought his hold, but he pushed her away in disgust, slamming her head against the window. “Acid, bitch. Hurt like hell, too, but desperate times.”

Acid? He’dmadehimself deaf? With acid? She gaped at him, unable to believe the lengths he would go to.

“Kate did help, though.” He pointed to his ear. “My psychologist. She sedated me. Kept me on pain meds for weeks while I healed. Still hurt like a son of a bitch, but at least I finally have something in common with my aunt, God rest her putrid soul. Old biddy never liked me.”

Izzy’s mother had learned the very basics of sign language from his aunt. That was how they’d met. How he’d become her stepfather. How her mother had died.

Izzy grabbed a napkin off his dashboard as he rambled on about his Deaf aunt, who was a lovely woman. She searched through her purse for a pen and scribbled a question, her hands shaking so much it was almost illegible. It read,Where is Kate now?

He leaned closer and squinted to read the note, then shook his head and turned back to the road. “I told her about you, Magpie. My bad. We can’t have just anyone knowing about your gift, now, can we? I had to kill her.” His brows slid together in thought. “She was surprised when I did it. I was surprised she was surprised. Did she learn nothing from our sessions?”

They took a left at the fork and ended up on Sandoval. She’d explored the charming city of Santa Fe quite extensively and didn’t remember any banks this far north. Maybe a small branch?

She wrote another note and waited for the next stoplight to show it to him.Why did you take Emma?

“Ah, I thought she might be like you. You know,” he said, looking her up and down, “figured she might have that cursed ability of yours. Turns out she’s just a normal brat like the rest of them.”

A state cop passed them, going in the opposite direction. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and watched in the rearview as the officer turned off Cerrillos. Izzy got a good look at the SUV’s back seat. It was filled with wood and random objects. Things one found on the side of the road. He was still building them. The birdhouses. She’d given him an order that morning, catching him right as he opened his eyes before his brain could adapt to what she was doing. She’d told him to confess to killing her mother, to show the police where he’d buried her body—in the backyard, no less—and to build a million bird houses. She figured it would keep him busy.

He noticed her studying his collection. “I still have to build them. Kate helped me in a lot of ways, but she couldn’t even put a dent in that little directive of yours.” His anger reared up and he went to grab her hair.

Izzy dodged his attempt and flipped him off. With both hands.

That amused the psychopath. He burst out laughing, slapping his hand on the steering wheel as he drove. “You haven’t changed at all, Magpie. Such attitude.”

This was getting her nowhere. She needed to know where the bomb was. And if Emma was in danger because of it. She wrote another note, struggling against his erratic driving and the condition of the road. She held it up to him.

“The bomb?” he asked, incredulous. “Where is the bomb?” His jovial attitude did a one-eighty. Like always. He pressed his lips together, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. “This is why we can’t have nice things. There is an order, Isadora. I get the money, and you get to live.” He sat stewing in his anger before adding, “Maybe.” He gaped at her as though she’d offended him in some unknown way. “Have you even thought about me? Your only family? Did you wonder how I was doing after that bullshit directive you gave?” He held up a hand to her and turned away. “I can’t even with you right now.”

Izzy frowned, the expression more wary than disappointed. Leo had always been erratic, but his behavior had gone downhill with age. He was almost childlike in his temperament, but most self-centered people were.

They drove to the outskirts of town where there was little more than sagebrush and tumbleweeds. Izzy had been right. He pulled into a shopping center that just happened to have a small bank branch on one end. But how much could they get away with from this tiny affiliate in the middle of nowhere?

He parked on the side of the building, looked at the gun, and then at her. “Look at you, Isadora Welch. Playing all nice.” He fished a magazine out of his front pocket, took the gun, and slid the cartridge inside before chambering a round. “And here I was, worried you’d grown some balls over the years. You’re just as pathetic and weak as ever.”

He wasn’t wrong.

She decided to risk it and see if he remembered any ASL. She asked him with two quick signs, “Bomb, where?”

He scowled at her. “I told you, Magpie, when I get the money, you’ll get your bomb.” He rapped his knuckles on her forehead, the pain sharp and penetrating.

But it was the strong scent of tobacco that was making her stomach churn. There were too many memories attached to that scent.

“Stay focused, and I might just take you with me on the road.” He looked up in thought. “Like a world tour. You and me together like old times, only we are going for bigger fish in the future.” He splayed his hands so she could better envision his plan. “Next, we hit a casino.”

He elbowed her in excitement before stuffing the gun into his jacket pocket and grabbing her arm. Without warning, he got out of the Jeep, dragging her with him over the console. She had to quickly unclip the seat belt lest she lose a limb.

They stopped just short of the front door. He turned her to face him and put his hands on her shoulders. “Now, remember,” he said, far too loudly, “just do your thing. This is a test run, yeah? Let’s see how this goes, and we’ll decide later if you get to live or not.”

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