The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

The girl reminded Remi of a cat. Agile, light on her feet. Just yesterday, Remi had seen her in one of the shade trees in the lunch area, watching the girls below, who had no idea she was hiding up above them. “She was collecting eggs.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me,” Hank said.

“She’s just a kid,” Sam said. “I’m more interested in hearing about this man you saw.”

“There’s not much to tell. He got out of his truck and was walking into the marketplace as I was loading the nails into my car. I don’t think he saw me, as busy as it was. I can’t say for sure he was one of the men who attacked us out on the road. I suppose it could have been a coincidence. The only reason I noticed him was because of the white truck and the scar on his face.”

“So you weren’t followed?” Sam asked.

“I don’t see how.” Hank glanced toward the girls lingering in the courtyard, then back at Sam and Remi. “I realize now that it was foolish for me to take off without telling anyone. I am sorry. Truly.” He shifted the heavy box in his hands, saying, “I’ll just put these in the shed.”

“By the dorm would be better,” Sam said. “We’ll be working there after lunch.”

Remi watched him walk off, then looked over at her husband. “Should we be worried?”

“That’s a long stretch of road with nothing between where we were robbed and that village. Like he said, it could be coincidence. Just in case,” he said, pulling out his phone, “I’ll call Selma and have her move up Lazlo’s flight. Couldn’t hurt to have an extra body around. Especially if we have to go into the village for anything.” He called the number and put the phone to his ear, telling Remi, “Let Pete know.”

“I will,” she said. Sam walked toward the office and Remi headed to the courtyard, where Pete was dumping yet another wheelbarrow of dirt into one of the planters. She related what Hank told them about seeing the man in the village. “Sam’s calling Selma now to get Lazlo on an earlier flight out,” she said as Hank walked up, looking suitably apologetic.

He watched Pete work. “That’s some fertile-looking soil.”

“Lucky for us it’s fertile land. We’re just moving it around, trying to put it to better use.” He wiped the sweat from his brow, then leaned on his shovel. “Not as exciting as a dig in Tunisia, I expect.”

“No,” Hank said, bending down and picking up something from the grass near the side of the planter. He closed his hand around the item, staring out toward the two shade trees, where Nasha and Amal stood, watching the girls jumping rope.

Pete followed the direction of his gaze. “So, what is it you’re looking for out there?”

“What?” Hank, focused on the girls, looked back at Pete and Remi almost startled.

“In Tunisia?” Pete said.

He suddenly laughed. “Right. Forgot what we were talking about for a second. The usual. Excavating ancient Roman villas,” he said as a bell rang twice.

“Lunch.” Pete rested the shovel against the wheelbarrow. “Guess we better head in and wash up.”

“Remi,” Hank said as she was about to follow Pete. He opened his palm, showing her a gray carpentry nail a little over two inches long. “I have a feeling this is why we ran out.”

Pete looked over at them as he pulled off his leatherwork gloves. “What are you talking about?”

Hank showed the nail to Pete. “The pickpocket we brought back, Nasha. I’ve seen her taking things. If I had to guess, she’s the reason the nails ended up missing.”

Pete eyed the nail and gave a casual shrug. “Maybe it fell there when they built the planter.”

“I doubt it. If you don’t believe me, take a look for yourself.” He stepped back and pointed.

Remi and Pete walked over. One or two they could dismiss as being missed when they were building the planter. But there were at least a hundred or more stashed between the grass and the base of the planter, which made her wonder where the rest of the nails were stashed. Remi looked out toward the picnic tables, where Nasha and Amal sat in the shade. Nasha looked up from Amal’s phone, surveying them as though she knew she was the topic of conversation. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

Hank gave Remi a knowing look. “Don’t be surprised if she lies about where she found them.”

“Ease up,” Pete said. “The kid’s had a hard life.”

“I’m not being critical,” Hank replied. “Stealing may very well be so ingrained to her survival, she’s not even thinking about it

. Can’t change a leopard’s spots.”

Remi was glad Nasha wasn’t within hearing distance. “I’m sorry,” she told Pete after Hank left.

“For what?”