Page 19 of Consumed
Maybe Trish appreciated his honesty. She nodded rather than arguing, which was possibly a good sign. “I get it. Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. You’ll give me some time to think about this and discuss it with the clan. Come back in three days—four o’clock again—and I’ll have an answer for you.”
Three days. Con hadn’t expected to be here that long. He hadn’t packed enough clothing, even. But trying to hurry her decision felt like a bad idea. If he were in her position, he’d want time to deliberate.
Isaac must have reached the same conclusion. “We really appreciate your consideration. And your hospitality. We’ll look forward to seeing you again.”
She walked them to the SUV, her clan members watching from a distance. They all looked as if they were dying to find out what was going on. Not that Con could blame them. Trish appeared to be in a jolly mood. She even held Con’s cane for him as he maneuvered into the passenger seat.
“Where you boys staying?”
“Gerard,” Isaac answered.
“There’s a shop in town that sells our work. Tell ’em I sent you and maybe they’ll give you a discount.” She cackled. “You staying at the old hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Good. If you get bored, you can go looking for some ghosts. There’s a couple of good ones there.”
Con waited to speak until they were back on the paved road . “How do you think that went?”
“Are you sure you’ve never done that before, dude? ’Cause you were great.”
Trying not to puff up with pride, Con said, “Thanks.” He realized that his nerves had disappeared almost as soon as the conversation with Trish had begun. And maybe a big part of that was how the coyotes had reacted to his scars. To them he wasn’t a freak or a horror—he was a strong man who’d been through a terrible ordeal. Funny how much someone else’s regard could affect your own attitude.
Isaac played with the radio dial, failed to find anything that satisfied him, and gave up. “So,” he said, grinning widely. “Three whole days at our disposal. Wanna find some ghosts?”
CHAPTER7
They did not immediately goghost hunting. Instead they drove back through Gerard and continued down the mountain into the Verde Valley. As soon as Con had sufficient cell reception, he called the chief. Holmes answered, which didn’t please either of them, but Con just left a message that the mission was going smoothly despite a slight delay. He promised to check in again in three days, after their second meeting with the coyotes.
Cottonwood was a cute little place, with a town center that looked like Old West transformed into Modern Tourist. But Isaac took them past that part to the much more prosaic Walmart. As always, the other customers stared at Con under the fluorescent lights, but for once he didn’t care. His scars werehisstory and nobody else’s.
Con and Isaac bought a few things to get them through their unexpectedly extended stay—shampoo, socks, and underwear, mostly. Then they headed for downtown, where Con bought a couple of white button-downs and a pair of khakis. Isaac, laughing, chose two souvenir T-shirts and a garish yellow-and-black cowboy shirt. “You’re going to wear that while we’re on a mission?” Con asked, slightly aghast.
“You bet. And I’m charging it to the Bureau’s expense account. Hey, I think we should get cowboy hats.”
“Absolutely not.”
There were a couple of antique shops and a thrift store nearby, but they were all closed for the day. Con managed not to gaze longingly through their windows. The bookstore was open, fortunately, and Con bought a few volumes on local history while Isaac opted for an art book by an Arizona photographer and a travel guide to Vietnam.
“Are you planning a trip?” Con asked.
“Not really. But you never know.”
By then it was dinnertime, and Isaac led them into an upscale barbecue place. They sat in a booth, a horned cow skull hanging on the wood-paneled wall beside them. The skull reminded Con a little too much of the human one in the orc cave, so he avoided looking at it.
Isaac didn’t seem to notice. “Feel free to get buzzed if you want. We’re off duty and I’m driving.”
“I, um, don’t drink alcohol.”
Isaac chuckled. “Me either. But for different reasons, I bet. I had sort of a problem with it when I was a kid. Not hard-core, but it wasn’t good. Townsend found me—God only knows how—and basically bribed me with a kickass job if I got my shit together. So I did.”
Although Con had experienced literally a single taste of booze, he had taken great care to not get hooked on painkillers after his hospital stay. “You’re making it sound easy, but I bet it wasn’t.”
“It wasn’t. It was part of this whole growing-up gig I had to do. Believe it or not, what you’re seeing is the very mature, responsible version of Isaac Molina.”
Con had to chuckle at that. The waitress stepped in and took their order, and after she left, Con felt inclined to stay on the subject. “You were a late bloomer, adult-wise?”
“You could say that. Look, I love my mom and dad. But they both escaped really strict religious households—hers Jewish, his Catholic—where guilt was used as a weapon. So when they had me, they parented in the exact opposite way. Very few rules. We moved around all the time, and we lived in all sorts of, um, alternative spaces. I think I would’ve done better with some more structure, you know? They didn’t really prepare me to be a functioning grown-up.” Isaac toyed with his water glass before looking at Con again. “Were you ever tempted to really cut loose and go wild like my parents did?”
