He glanced back at the truck. "We're actually looking for something."
She noticed the paper he held. "There were some people earlier who were doing some scavenger hunt party thing. You a part of that?"
"Yeah. A scavenger hunt. I need to find something here inGoodlaw , and all I have to go by is the clues garden and cross." He grinned at her hopefully.
She grinned back, showing sparkling white dentures in the middle of her leathery, creased face. "I do love scavenger hunts. Used to do them when I was a girl. Lived inPhoenix then. Big sprawling metropolis compared to this good-for-nothing desert." She nodded at the surroundings. "God's abandoned all of us here. Only a bunch of no-good stragglers come toGoodlaw ."
He worked hard to keep the friendly grin on his face. "Well, if you don't like it here, why don't you move back toPhoenix ?"
"I killed a man inPhoenix . Son-of-a-bitch husband. They never found the body, and they never will. Bad luck to go back. Bad luck." She crossed herself and then spat to the side of him.
Okay. "So—" He held on to that grin with all his strength. "Garden or cross? Anything come to you?"
She rubbed her wrinkled face and creased her already lined forehead. "No, can't say as it does."
"Dammit," he swore under his breath. "Malcolm must have been wrong. Or maybe this wasn't a code,
after all. Back to square one."
"Malcolm?" she repeated. "Youain't looking for Malcolm Price, are you?"
His gaze shot up. "What did you say?"
"Malcolm Price. Comes here once a month to pick up his supplies. Got a shack up on Garden Ridge.
Now that I think about it, that might be your garden clue for the scavenger hunt."
"Malcolm," he said again, not believing his own ears. "You've actually seen him?"
"Well, yes, of course. I've got twenty-twenty vision even after all this time."
He'd told Janie that Malcolm was dead, but he didn't tell her how he'd died. The letter arrived eight years ago, shortly after he'd been killed by a clan of vampires who'd been kept in a basement by hunters so long that the hunger had turned them savage.
It had been a closed casket.
He was alive? How was that possible? He felt stunned and suddenly uncertain what to do next.
"Where's Garden Ridge?" he asked hoarsely.
She told him. He left.
When he got back into the car and shifted into drive, Janie eyed him curiously.
"Everything okay?"
He nodded stiffly. "Just fine."
He pulled out of the gas station without realizing that he'd neglected to pay and the gas nozzle was still attached to the truck. Hearing that Malcolm might still be alive—which made no damn sense at all—shocked the hell out of him.
Five miles south, the desert turned greener. The browns of the arid landscape gave way to a patch of lusher foliage. Garden Ridge was a valley area shadowed by two medium-sized hills. The winding gravel road led them to a "road closed" sign.
"Dead end," Janie said. "What did that woman tell you?"
He ignored her and pressed down on the gas to maneuver around the sign and onto the rough path beyond. After a while they came to a very small house shielded by vegetation. It looked run-down,
overgrown, and as if no one had lived there for a hundred years.
Where are you, Malcolm? Quinn thought and felt a churning in his empty stomach.And why have you been in hiding all these years ?
Just as he'd told Janie, the man had been like an uncle to him. Nice and understanding when his father was cold and rigid. He sent the letter. That meant if Malcolm was still alive, he would also be after the
Eye—that is, if he didn't already have it. If he'd found it and made the wish already, then all of this would be for nothing.
It was worth checking out, anyhow. Besides, he had to keep Janie occupied until he had a chance to… incapacitate her.
She scanned the area with a look of distaste. "This place is probably crawling with bugs."
"Shhh."
"What? Isn't it abandoned?" Her eyes narrowed.
"Just be quiet."
She got out her gun.
Quinn held up his hand. "That won't be necessary."
She hesitated and thenreholstered the gun. That thing made him nervous. Very nervous. He'd never liked guns. Way too unpredictable. Not the guns themselves, but the people holding them.
He walked through the overgrown landscape and behind the house. A grime-covered window looked out on the back. Quinn walked cautiously over to it and peered inside, but it was too dirty to see through.
The place felt abandoned.
The woman at the gas station must have been wrong.
Simple as that.
Then he laughed. Just a small sound of disappointment, and he shook his head. What did he expect?
Malcolm to suddenly appear and give him a fatherly hug? Tell him that everything was going to be okay?
What was he doing, anyhow? Coming all this way to find some stupid artifact that was only rumors and speculation. Talk about grasping at straws. And what if he did find it? What if he did make the wish to become human again? What was that going to solve?
It wouldn't change what he'd done. What he was. It didn't change the fact that he was a nobody now, and neither vampire nor human wanted a damn thing to do with him.
He frowned. Maybe he should wish for a full-time therapist. Yeah, that might be something to consider.