Page 48 of Sweetwater and the Witch

When he got the door open, they stepped out into an alley seething with luminous fog. Ethan paused to check the locator one last time.

“We’re close,” he said. “The car stopped not far from here. He parked on the street for a few minutes. Not long.”

They started toward the far end of the alley. When Harriet growled a warning, they stopped. The beam of Ethan’s flashlight fell on the dead man.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“You don’t think this is a coincidence, do you?” Ravenna said.

“No.” Ethan crouched beside the body, his hunter’s intuition rezzed to the max. “I don’t see any obvious signs of violence, but he hasn’t been dead long. We’re close to where Spooner was parked earlier. There has to be a connection.”

“Do you think this man is the person Spooner came to Illusion Town to meet?”

“At this point I think that’s a good bet,” Ethan said. He began the unpleasant process of going through the dead man’s clothes.

“What are you looking for?” Ravenna asked.

Her voice was unnaturally thin and faint. He reminded himself she had already been through a lot tonight and now they had stumbled onto a probable homicide.

“I’m looking for anything that will tell me who this man is,” he said. “Are you all right? Let me know if you think you’re going to faint or get sick.”

“I am not going to faint or get sick.”

Her voice sounded stronger now. He got the impression she was annoyed, but he had no time to deal with her emotions. He had to figure out what was going on and get her to safety.

“Good,” he said. He did not look up from his work. “Glad to hear it.”

He unfastened the dead man’s scuffed leather jacket and exposed a faded denim work shirt.

“He was living rough,” Ravenna ventured after a moment. “He hasn’t shaved in a while. His clothes are old. Not shabby or ill fitting—just old, as if he bought them a long time ago and wore them for years. Same with his boots.”

“Whoever he is, he’s dressed like someone who spent a lot of time in the Underworld.” Ethan sat back on his heels and considered the body, paying attention to detail. “Not a Guild man. Looks more like an independent ruin rat. A guy who surfaced once in a while to do a little gambling and drinking here in the Shadow Zone and then headed back down into the tunnels in hopes of striking it rich.”

“If he was a ruin rat he would have had a lot of tuned amber on him,” Ravenna pointed out.

“Amber that we might have been able to use to identify him. Whoever did this stripped him of anything that could tell us who he is or where he comes from. No wallet, no watch, no receipts, no keys—nothing. The cops will probably be able to identify him eventually, but not for a while, which means the trail will grow very cold.”

“He wasn’t a young man,” Ravenna said.

“No,” Ethan said. “He wasn’t. I’d say he’s about Big Jake’s age.”

“Who is Big Jake?”

“Jake Sweetwater, my grandfather. He was a prospector who got lucky. Founded Amber, Inc.”

“He’s retired now, isn’t he?”

“In theory. But that doesn’t stop him from trying to tell Cruz how to run the company.”

“Why are we talking about your grandfather?” Ravenna asked.

“Because I remember the stories he used to tell us grandkids when we were growing up,” Ethan said. He began wrestling the leather jacket off the body. “The indies have it tough down below. They work alone in a dangerous environment. In addition to pirates and raiders, they have to worry about getting disoriented by energy rivers and storms.”

“So does everyone else who goes into the Underworld without a trained team. Why is that important tonight?”

“I’m not sure it is important. Give me a minute.”

He set the jacket aside and went to work removing the dead man’s shirt. When that was done he sat back again and studied what he had uncovered.

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