Double blind

Chapter Twenty-six

"You seem surprised to see me," Henry Lightstone remarked when the woman placed a menu on the place mat, and filled his cup with steaming coffee. "Did I give you the impression I was unreliable already?"

She had dressed for the colder weather that morning: soft white cotton long johns with hand-crocheted trim edging at the ends of the long sleeves and scooped neckline, faded small-bib denim overalls with a hand-stitched panther head — complete with bright yellow eyes — over the left breast, and a pair of well-worn, low-cut hiking boots. A self-assured woman dressing for herself who made no particular effort to show off her taut, curvaceous, and yet slender figure.

Yet to Lightstone, everything about her appeared sleek, sensual, and alluring.

"You may not have noticed, but nine o'clock's a little late for most working people around this town." Karla lightly tossed her head and her long hair fanned out toward the empty tables. "And besides, predicting the future isn't always an exact science," she added with a mischievous grin.

"That's the advantage of being between jobs — every now and then, when your rancher buddy isn't dragging you out to some cow-related project, you get to sleep in." Lightstone picked up the hand-printed menu. "And speaking of predicting the future, I don't suppose you checked out the cook's tea leaves this morning?"

She shrugged, causing the soft cotton fabric of the long johns to stretch invitingly across her full breasts.

"Sorry. You really can't tell much from a short-order cook's coffee grounds, especially the way this one makes coffee. But Danny's pretty good with scrambled eggs — if you like them with lots of chopped green onions and China peas. On the other hand, his hash browns definitely need help. He claims he's working on the problem. But his jambalaya is fantastic — except not for breakfast, unless you're real adventuresome."

"The scrambled eggs sound fine. Extra onions and peas, if that's an option… but I think I'll skip on the hash browns — probably forever — and the jambalaya for now."

"Good choice."

Lightstone made a show of looking around the enclosed porch. "I don't see your helper today."

Karla gave him a cool, appraising look. "Apparently this was one of those mornings all the 'between-job' types decided to sleep in."

"Ah."

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then suddenly turned and retreated to the kitchen.

When she returned about thirty seconds later, she carried an ornate ceramic cup. Wordlessly, she pushed Lightstone's coffee cup aside, set the steaming cup in front of him, walked around to the opposite side of the table, sat down with her chin resting on her interlaced fingers, and commanded, "Drink."

Henry Lightstone's brows furrowed in confusion as he stared into the woman's gold-flecked green eyes for a brief moment, then into the cup.

"Tea?"

"That's right."

He smiled in sudden understanding. "Are you serious?"

"Very," she answered in a voice that offered no compromise.

After shrugging agreeably, Lightstone cautiously brought the steaming cup to his lips, and winced.

"It's hot."

"Drink it anyway."

He allowed his gaze to settle on those seductive gold-flecked green eyes for another brief moment. Then he obediently brought the cup to his lips, drank the hot tea in several long sips, and set the ornate cup back on the table.

He felt the warmth of her hand radiating across his when she reached across it to slide the ceramic cup to her side of the table.

As Henry Lightstone watched in fascination, the sensuous young woman scrutinized the remaining contents carefully, stuck her index finger into the cup, stirred gently, waited a few more seconds, and then apparently considered results for a very long time.

Finally, she released a deep sigh that caused Lightstone's heart to thump in his chest.

He waited for her to say something, but she simply sat there with her chin resting on her interlaced fingers, staring down into the small cup.

"What's the matter?" he asked cautiously.

Startled, she looked up, shook her head as if to clear it, and fixed Lightstone with a long, appraising stare.

"Do you really want to see her again?"

Henry Lightstone hesitated, intuitively aware that whatever he said could significantly affect many things… his future among them.

Finally, he nodded his head. "Yes, I do. I wanted to see both of you again."

As Lightstone watched, Karla briefly closed her eyes, then looked down into the cup one last time, took in a deep breath, released it slowly, then silently got up and disappeared into the inn.

Two minutes later, she returned with the panther at her side, the cat's eyes seemingly unfocused and her ears partially down as she swung her massive head slowly from side to side.

In the daylight, she looked even more stunning… and more intimidating.

They both do, he thought, and then recoiled subliminally when the alarm bell in the back of his head started up again. He continued considering the possible implications of that subconscious reaction as the woman and cat approached him.

"She has her collar on, but take it easy anyway. She's acting a little weird this morning," Karla warned.

The panther stayed close to her human mistress's side until they came within a half dozen feet of Lightstone. Then, the big cat suddenly stopped, turned her velvety head sharply in his direction, emitted a spine-chilling yowl, and lunged.

Once again, Henry Lightstone found himself pinned by a mass of claws, muscle, and gleaming fur while two huge glowing yellow eyes stared intently into his own. He could feel her breath — and her coarse, bristly whiskers — tickling his face. Although the daylight made her appear visually intimidating, this time he didn't feel anywhere near as startled or frightened.

Some analytical portion of Henry's brain tried to correlate the initial visual data he'd accumulated about the big cat — her close attachment to the woman, her head swinging slowly back and forth, partially flattened ears, and eyes seemingly unfocused — with the fact that now the panther's ears stood erect and her eyes definitely focused on his. But he knew little about animal behavior, and even less about a predatory creature like this.

But then the huge cat began to rumble contentedly, dug her claws into his arms, and rubbed her muzzle hard against his chin and jaw, and suddenly all of the data fell into place.

"My God," he whispered, "she's blind."

"She has spots," Henry announced in surprise when the panther lost interest in him a short time later and he noticed the dark patches in what he'd originally thought was a solid black coat.

"Panthers are part of…" Karla hesitated for a split second, "… the leopard family. She's actually a very very dark brown leopard with even darker brown spots."

"What's wrong with her eyes?" Henry asked as he studied the cat with the hidden spots lounging in the sunlight next to the table, her head resting on his boot.

"The zoo vets had no idea how it happened," she explained as she sat beside Henry Lightstone at the table and observed her fearsome companion. "There was no sign of trauma to the outer or inner eye structures. The skull X-rays look fine. All of the neurological data were unremarkable. The most likely cause was a spontaneous mutation that occurred prior to birth."

"You got her from a zoo?"

Karla nodded. "Her mother wouldn't feed her. A lot of captive animals have lousy maternal instincts. Or it could've just been one of those instinctive reactions. You know, don't waste any effort on a defective cub. The zoo director was a family friend, and I'd spent a lot of time in the nursery when I was a kid. He told me they planned to put her down because they couldn't afford to keep her, and none of the other zoos wanted her. So he offered her to me."

"Sounds like a lot of work."

"I already had my wildlife rehabilitator's certificate and was.. between jobs" — she smiled evasively — "so I took him up on it. Sasha was still young enough to imprint on me, and now she thinks I'm her mom. Well, her queen, really." Karla smiled at Lightstone, obviously relishing the scientifically correct term for a mother cat.

"I'm surprised that no one around here complains," Lightstone commented.

"You mean like to the government, for example?"

Lightstone nodded.

"The State Fish and Game people weren't exactly thrilled. I was fortunate that the zoo director was well connected… but I guess that's pretty much how government operates anyway, isn't it? It's always who you know, not what you know," Karla added with a cynical twist to her voice. "However, I guess I should be grateful because they finally did give me a permit, as long as I agreed to keep her collared and within my range of control whenever she's out of her enclosure."

"I'm not much of a fan of government, but you can kind of see their point. A creature like this is bound to terrify people if she's running around loose," Lightstone remarked, feeling the cat's rib cage rhythmically rise and fall against his outstretched leg. Even asleep, she was such an awesome creature, he couldn't imagine her unable to defend or feed herself.

"And then, too," he added thoughtfully, "I suppose it probably goes both ways. A blind panther probably wouldn't stand much of a chance out in the wild."

"She'd have a rough time on her own, but if she could get close enough to the prey before she attacked… or had a protective mate." Karla shrugged as if to say "Who knows." "But the fact that I raised her, rather than another panther, would probably undermine her chances as much as her limited sight."

"Then she's not really blind?"

"Not totally. Like most cats, her vision is more motion- than detail-sensitive. But as best we can tell, anything beyond two or three feet probably looks like a blur to her."

Lightstone frowned. "That's strange. I got the impression she saw me from farther away than that."

"No, I think she smelled you." Karla smiled again. "It may have something to do with your friend's cattle ranch."

"So what should I do, rub up against one of Bobby's cows every morning before breakfast just to keep her happy?"

"I couldn't even begin to advise you on that subject," the sensuous woman replied cryptically.

Interesting answer, Lightstone thought uneasily.

But before he could follow up on that curious remark, Karla suddenly responded to the young cook's appearance at the doorway to the dining room.

"Say, speaking of eating," she changed the subject completely. "Want to give it one more try? I forgot to warn you that Sasha considers Danny's scrambled eggs with onions and China peas one of her favorite snacks. But from the looks of things" — she glanced down at the loudly snoring animal — "I'd say she's sacked out, and I know Danny's got more."

The event so captivated him, he'd completely forgotten he hadn't eaten.

"That sounds real good to me," he gratefully accepted Karla's offer.

She relayed the order to the young cook, who smiled and returned to his kitchen.

"So what…?" Lightstone started to ask, when the exterior door to the enclosed porch suddenly opened behind them.

"Uh-oh, time to work," Karla automatically reacted to the familiar sound. She started to get up, but hesitated when she remembered the blissfully sleeping panther.

"That's okay, leave her," Lightstone assured her, "she'll be fine."

"I don't know…"

"I won't move. Just don't go too far way, in case she wakes up and decides she wants another snack."

It was obvious that Karla still felt uncertain, but Lightstone's relaxed smile reassured her. Then she glanced back over her shoulder and saw who had entered the restaurant.

"All right, you stay here. I'll be right back," she agreed with a subtle but distinct edge to her voice.

"May I help you?" Karla asked as she approached the two men — Wintersole, whose eyes had given her cold chills, and another, younger one she'd never seen before. She noticed Wintersole still wore the bear-claw necklace.

"I was expecting a letter this morning, but it's not in my box." Wintersole's eyes flickered toward the lone diner sitting at the nearby table.

"I'm sorry, but all the mail is in the boxes. Next delivery will be in late this afternoon."

"This would have been a personal delivery to the post office," Wintersole persisted. "Sometime yesterday morning."

Karla shook her head. "I'm sorry, but everything's in the boxes, and no one dropped off anything this morning."

"Would you mind checking, just to be sure?"

He probably intended it as a question, but it came out as a direct order.

"We don't get that much mail here." The young woman forced herself to control her irritation and stare directly into those disconcerting gray eyes. "You have box fourteen, correct?"

The hunter-killer team leader hesitated a split second, then nodded.

"Then there's no need to check. I'm absolutely certain there's no mail for you."

She started to turn away, but a strong, restraining hand suddenly grabbed her arm.

"The sergeant asked you to check." Wintersole's younger companion glared at her. "I suggest you do that. Now."

"Take your hand off…!" Karla started to exclaim, when the younger soldier let out a startled yelp and went down on his knees, hard.

"I believe I heard her say you don't have any mail in this post office. Perhaps you misunderstood that?" Henry Lightstone held the young soldier down on his knees with the painful, single-handed wristlock, but his eyes transfixed Wintersole's.

"Hey, knock it off, you two, I don't want…!" Karla stepped in fast, but not fast enough.

The young well-trained soldier relaxed, seemingly giving in to the wristlock. Then, when he sensed the opportunity, he dipped his shoulder, brought his feet around, and started to come up with a knuckle strike to Lightstone's exposed groin.

But the martial-arts-trained ex-cop had anticipated the move.

A high-pitched scream immediately masked the sound of crunching wrist bones.

"Oh, shit!" This time Karla made no effort to disguise her true feelings as she quickly reached into her apron pocket.

Responding instantly to the enraged look in Wintersole's eyes, Henry Lightstone released the young man's broken wrist and was shifting into a defensive stance when the enclosed room suddenly reverberated with a spine-chilling feral scream.

Wintersole, already in motion with his hand clenched for a crippling strike, and Lightstone, instinctively set for the block and counterstrike, both turned.

"SASHA! NO! TO ME, NOW!"

The cat was already in mid-lunge, her hind legs driving her claw-extended forepaws within striking range of the two blurry targets, when the familiar, reassuring, and commanding tones of the woman's voice caused her to abort her lethal charge. She twisted midair, sprang in the direction of the woman's voice, and then — once she made physical contact with her queen — spun toward the others with bared teeth and let out a defiant, rafter-shaking roar.

"Don't move, any of you!" the woman spit out angrily.

She needn't have bothered. All three men were frozen in place.

"Just stay where you are, all of you," the woman ordered again, her eyes blazed with fury as she slowly dropped her right hand — the one clutching the small transmitter — to her side. "I'm taking her out of here."

The young soldier, shaken by his eye-level view of imminent and savage death, remained on his knees while the woman and the cat disappeared into the inn. But Lightstone and Wintersole automatically moved apart, even though both of them still mentally reeled from the shock.

Lightstone recovered first.

"I'm terribly sorry," he apologized, turning to face the man he immediately — and instinctively — recognized as a trained and experienced killer. "I had no business interfering. I thought — "

The sound of Henry Lightstone's voice appeared to snap Wintersole out of his trance. He looked down and saw that his left hand tightly clenched the bear-claw necklace. He smiled when he looked at Lightstone with his strange pale eyes.

"No, it was our fault, entirely our fault." Wintersole briefly glanced down at the injured soldier. "We were expecting a very important letter that involved… a great deal of money. It wasn't her fault — or yours — that it didn't arrive. We were out of line, and I apologize," he added, as he extended his hand.

Lightstone accepted the peace offering, immediately aware of the extraordinary, controlled strength in the man's handshake as he did so. Then he looked down at the still-sprawled younger man.

"I'm really sorry about his wrist." Lightstone shook his head regretfully. "I'll be happy to pay for his medical treatment."

"That won't be necessary." Wintersole reached down and brought the younger man to his feet. "You're not hurt bad, are you, David?"

"No sir," the pale-faced young man spoke with surprising calmness under the circumstances.

Another one just like him. Muscular, trim, short-haired, and intense, but younger and nowhere near as cold… or dangerous, Lightstone decided, surprised to see disciplined obedience in the young man's face rather than anger. Who the hell are these guys? Cops?

To Lightstone's absolute amazement, the young man extended his uninjured right hand. "My sincere apologies, sir. It was my fault for grabbing the woman. That was inexcusable. You had every right to come to her defense, and I had no call to go at you like that."

"To tell the truth," Lightstone chuckled as he accepted the young man's hand, "I'm not sure she needed defending… at least not from me."

"Man, that's sure the truth."

For a brief moment, the terrorizing aftereffects of the panther's near-lethal charge flickered across the young man's face.

"I don't believe this."

The three men turned at the sound of Karla's voice.

"When I walked out of here with Sasha a couple minutes ago, all three of you were ready to go at each other's throats, and you damned near got yourselves killed because of it. I come back and find you shaking hands like the whole thing was just some kind of male-bonding ritual. What the hell is it with you guys anyway?" she demanded angrily.

Wintersole stepped forward before Lightstone or the younger man could respond.

"Ma'am, I'm extremely sorry for the way my associate and I acted," he graciously apologized. "I was completely out of line. That's no excuse at all, but as I was explaining to your friend, that letter's crucial to a very important project we're working on. It didn't arrive, which means we lose a great deal of valuable time. But that's not your problem… and we had no right to take our frustration out on you."

Karla appeared unimpressed, but Wintersole soldiered on.

"To tell you the truth, I'm so embarrassed that I'm reluctant to ever show my face here again, except" — he averted his eyes momentarily before meeting her gaze again — "that letter really is important to us, and" — the team leader paused for effect — "we really do like the food and the company here."

It was such an inspired performance that Henry Lightstone almost felt like applauding.

Karla peered at Wintersole's strange eyes for several seconds. Then, without a trace of warmth in her voice, she asked: "Where are you from? Georgia?"

"No ma'am, South Carolina."

"I knew it. That goddamned Southern male charm." She shook her head, then sighed. "Unfortunately, much as I hate to admit it" — she flashed him a slight smile that made Lightstone feel inexplicably jealous — "it works on us dumb Southern women every time."

"I'd never call a lady from the South dumb, ma'am, especially you. Does that mean we're forgiven?" Wintersole peered at her hopefully.

"Yes, apology accepted."

"Well, that being the case" — the hunter-killer recon team leader breathed a visible sigh of relief and distractedly ran his fingers over the bear-claw necklace — "would I be pushing my luck if I asked to buy a piece of paper, an envelope, and a first-class stamp?"

Karla cocked her head curiously.

"You didn't get a letter today, so now you want to send one?" She smiled at him.

"Yes ma'am."

"I think that can be arranged."

Three minutes later, Wintersole handed her the sealed envelope. She glanced down at the address.

"P.O. Box fifteen? Not going very far, is it?" she remarked pleasantly. "Almost hate to charge for the stamp."

"That's all right, ma'am, I'm sure the government needs the money." Wintersole motioned the younger man toward the door. "Unless you change your mind, we'll see you tomorrow, same time."

Karla waited until the two men got into their pickup and started backing out of the parking space. Then she turned to Lightstone, who stood next to her, his eyes fixed on the departing vehicle, which was painted in an unusual mottled green color.

Almost like military camouflage, but not quite. Interesting.

"Would you care to explain to me what the hell just happened in here?" the sensuous young woman asked pointedly.

"I'd love to, except I haven't the slightest idea," Henry Lightstone replied truthfully as he watched the younger man give one final glance at the restaurant before driving off. "You get some interesting customers."

"That's putting it mildly."

"Uh, listen, uh… Karla, I think I've probably caused enough trouble around here for one morning. Would you mind if I — ?"

"Came back tomorrow… for breakfast?" she finished his question for him.

Lightstone nodded.

"That's probably a good idea," she agreed, massaging her neck. "I think we all need to cool down a little."

He started to say something, but simply nodded again.

The sensuous young woman with the gold-flecked green eyes concealed herself behind the kitchen door and watched Henry Lightstone walk across the porch, look back briefly, then run to his truck when he thought no one observed him.

Okay, Henry, Karla thought as she watched him start up his truck and accelerate out of the parking lot in the same direction as the other vehicle, I give up, just who are you? And more importantly, what the hell are you doing here?