Thomas Perry - Shadow Woman (Jane Whitefield)

Copyright 1997 by Thomas Perry

For my mother my sister

my wifemy daughters

Any person, whether oldor young, male or female, might become possessed of an evil spirit,and be transformed into a witch. A person thus possessed couldassume, at pleasure, the form of any animal, bird or reptile, andhaving executed his nefarious purpose, could resume his originalform, or, if necessary to escape pursuit, could transmute himselfinto an inanimate object.

Lewis Henry Morgan,League of the Iroquois, 1851

PeteHatcher pushed through the warm, dry night air that was trappedbetween the tall hotels and casinos, feeling the stored heat from thesun still rising from the concrete to his ankles. He had tightenedhis back muscles to keep his spine straight and his shoulders back,but it felt like a pose, so he tried to lose his self-consciousnessand slouch a little. It was hard to do anything for so many dayswithout ruminating on the way it must look, what they must thinkabout it. He had tried to look formidable and alert, as though hewould be hard to kill. The idea was worse than childish. It was thereaction of an animal trying to convince a predator that he wasntweak enough to take down just yet.

The part of Las Vegas that heloved was the Strip, with the exaggerated shapes of its giantbuildings lit up in candy colors that burned against the blue-blackdesert sky, but being downtown like this was different. The carnivalneons and incandescents glared from all sides and bounced off asphaltand concrete, then washed across the faces of the people walking withhim as a dead yellow-gray that cast deep shadows in their wrinklesand sunken eyes.

He followed a couple who seemedto sense it. Each eyed the other and the woman became uncomfortablyaware that the ghastly light that had skinned the life from herbeloveds cheek must have done the same to her own. She bravelyforced a smile that only gave her face deeper hollows and the baredteeth of a skull. The pair reached the roofed-over mall, retreated tothe nearest glass door, and escaped into the soft blue of a bar litwith the twinkle of tiny star-white bulbs. When they had taken a fewsteps into the cool, machine-made air, Pete saw them both give alittle shrug-and-shudder to be sure none of the leftover street magicwas clinging to them.

Hatcher followed them throughthe bar into the big casino, then skirted the margin of the gamingfloor, ignoring the din of the bells on the slots and the rattle ofcoins in the collection pans that bounced off the walls above hishead to excite the customers. He moved deeper, staying far from theblackjack tables and crap tables, where bright overhead lights shoneon the green felt and turned the dealers starched white shirtsinto semaphores. He stepped to the little window in the wall a fewfeet apart from the cashiers cages.

He said to the middle-aged womanbehind the glass, There was supposed to be a ticket for themidnight show left for me.

Your name, sir? Hehad somehow assumed she would know his face, but her expression wasonly attentive.

Pete Hatcher.

Hatcher took the ticket and readthe seat number while he was still in the light, then handed it tothe girl in the fishnet tights and frock coat at the door and let herlead him into the show. Hatcher never looked back to see whether thetwo men were still following. They were.

The round walls of the room werelined with big plush booths in three tiers, and the space in front ofthe stage crowded with rows of long, narrow tables arranged like thespokes of a wheel so nobody in the cheap stackable chairs along themcould see better than anybody else.

The woman he had been told tocall Jane was already seated in the dark booth when he got there. Shewas thin, with gleaming black hair braided behind her head, a long,graceful neck, and bare shoulders that showed no trace of a line inthe tan and made him want to believe that she was in the habit ofsunbathing naked. He felt an unexpected, tearing pain when he lookedat her, so he glanced at the stage. This was what he was about tolose not the money or the fancy office or the clean, hotdesert air. It was the women, ones like her. They werent everfrom here, but this was where Pete had always found them. It was asthough they were the winners of some quiet beauty contest, judged notby a bunch of potbellied Chamber of Commerce types but by the womenthemselves, before they were even women. They seemed to take one lookin the mirror and know that the creature looking back at them didntbelong in Biloxi or Minneapolis.

The woman said, Pete?

Yes?

Kiss me. He turnedin surprise and she was offering him her cheek in that strange waythe best of them did, so he could press his lips against thatincredibly smooth place just in front of her ear and smell thefragrance of her hair. He lingered there for a moment to whisper, Ithought we were blending in. You mean beautiful is the worst you cando?

She ignored the question, drewback to end the kiss, and said, Good enough. Dates want you tokiss them; hookers dont. If the management thinks Im inbusiness, theyll have their own people watching me. Did youknow youre not alone?

I havent beenalone in two weeks, he said. My phones are bugged, myapartment, even my car. When Im asleep they switch on a camerawith an infrared lens thats above the smoke detector in myceiling.

Thats a very goodsign, said the woman. If the bugs and cameras haddisappeared, that would be a very bad sign. It would mean theyexpected that pretty soon the police would be taking a close look ateverything you used to own.

Its not the sortof sign that makes me want to rush out and buy next yearscalendar.

Dont worry aboutwhat didnt happen, said the woman. Worry aboutwhat you have to make happen.

What?

The instant that the boxopens

What box?

Just listen. When the boxopens, you get out and walk do not run to the exitdoor thats facing you. Go outside, get into the black Fordthats parked in the reserved space at the end of the lot.Drive north on Route 15. It will take you to St. George, Utah. Thatsabout all the time I can buy you. Youll still be an hour fromCedar City. Dont stop to pee or something, just keep driving.Theres a small airport in Cedar City, and your ticket isreserved at the Southwest Airlines desk under the name David Keller.From now on, thats you. The papers I promised you are in thewallet under the seat of the car. Theres a suitcase in thetrunk. Youll just make your flight, and youll be inDenver before daylight.

What about the otherstuff?

Everything youllneed at first is in the suitcase. The diplomas, honorable discharge,bank books, and so on are in your new apartment.

And?

And what?

That gets me out, butwhat about you? Theyve seen you with me. Theyll havenobody to take it out on but you.

Her eyes settled on him inpuzzled curiosity, studied his face for a moment as though they hadfound something rare and unfamiliar there, then drifted toward thestage. Im good at this, and you couldnt help meanyway. Dont think about me. Think about what you have to do.

Anything else you haventtold me?

Volumes, she said.I like to spend more time with my runners before I set themfree, but you dont have it to spare. All you really need toknow is that if you never make a mistake youll live forever.Right now, just concentrate on tonight. If you live through this,youll catch on.

What if theyve gotsomebody waiting at the back door for me?

She placed her long, thinfingers on his hand, and her voice went soft and low, like a mothertalking to her child. Then hit him fast, and hurt him as badlyas you can. He wont have the stomach for a one-on-one fightfor keeps. It takes much more courage to spend two weeks pretendingyou dont know youre in trouble than it does to join apack stalking a lone man. Ive been watching you, and Ivebeen watching them. You can do this.