Blood Trail

they turned onto petered out in a farmyard after six kilometers. The farmer, not bothering to hide his amusement, gave them directions while his dog marked a rear tire.
    They'd driven past the south turnoff, thinking it was only a lane.

    "This thing has more potholes than Spadina Avenue," Vicki grunted, blocking the ceiling's attempt to smack her in the head. "Do you think maybe you could slow down?"

    "Just watch for the red barn."

    The red barn had either fallen or faded; it certainly wasn't where the farmer had said. They finally turned east on the second crossroad, which after two kilometers swung around a gentle, banked curve and headed due south.

    "We're going to end up back in London at this rate."

    Celluci sighed. "Hasn't anyone out here ever heard of street signs? There's a building up ahead.
    Let's see if we can get some coherent directions this time."

    They'd turned into the driveway before Vicki recognized the white farm house.

    "Lost again, Ms. Nelson?" Carl Biehn approached the passenger side of the car, brushing dirt off his hands.

    Vicki smiled up at him. "Not this time, Mr. Biehn." She hooked a thumb back over her shoulder. " He was driving."

    Carl bent so he could see into the car and nodded at Celluci who nodded back and said, "We seem to have taken a wrong turn."

    "Easy to do in the country," the older man told him, straightening.

    Vicki thought he looked tired. His eyes were ringed in purple shadows and the lines running past the corners of his mouth had deepened. "Trouble in the garden?" she asked, and wondered why he started.

    "No. No trouble." He rubbed at a bit of mud dried to the edge of his thumb, his hands washing around and around themselves.

    "Well, well, well. Lost again, Ms. Nelson?" The words were identical, but the tone sat just this side of insult. "I think you'll have to face the fact that some people aren't cut out for country life."

    Vicki considered returning a smile as false as the one Mark Williams offered her but decided not to bother. She didn't like him; she didn't care if he knew it.

    He pushed past his uncle and leaned into the car, resting one hand on the bottom edge of the open window. "I see this morning you've managed to lead someone else astray." His left hand stretched across Vicki into the car. "Mark Williams."

    "Celluci. Michael Celluci."

    They shook briefly. Vicki found herself tempted to take a bite out of the tanned arm as it withdrew. She restrained herself; time spent with the wer had obviously influenced her thinking. Besides, odds are I'd catch something disgusting.

    "What happened to your head?" He sounded concerned.

    "I had an accident." And it was none of his business.

    "You weren't badly hurt?" Carl looked down over his nephew's shoulder, brow furrowed.

    "Just a bump," Vicki assured him. He nodded, satisfied, and she shot Mark a look that warned against further questions.

    "We're trying to get to the Heerkens farm." Celluci wore his neutral expression - not friendly, not unfriendly, just there. Vicki had one like it. She didn't bother to put it on.

    "No problem. Three or four kilometers down this road and the first left. Their lane's about two K in." He laughed companionably. His breath spilled into the car, smelling like mint. "And about two K long once you get there."

    "Nothing wrong with privacy," Celluci said mildly.

    "Nothing at all," the other man agreed. He stood and spread his hands, the gold hair on his forearms glinting in the sun. "I'm all for it myself."

    I bet you are, Vicki thought. And wouldn't I just love a look at the dirty little secrets your privacy hides. Probably good for five to ten just for starters. ...

    "Ms. Nelson?" Carl had stopped rubbing at the dirt but he still appeared disturbed. "Will you be staying with the Heerkens long?"

    "I hope not."

    "That sounds almost like a prayer."

    She sighed. "Maybe it is." She was staying until she nailed the bastard with the rifle and if prayer would help then she had nothing against it. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she turned to wave as Celluci did a three point turn in the driveway and headed back to the road.
    Carl raised a strained hand in a reserved salute but Mark, who knew full well he hadn't been included in the farewell gesture, responded with a flamboyant movement of his arm.

    "Well?"

    "Well, what?" He half turned toward her, brows up. "You aren't actually asking my opinion, are you?"

    "Celluci."

    He pursed his lips and turned back to face the