by Ben Johnson<\/strong><\/p>\n (Editor’s note: this is an extract from Ben’s upcoming book Blood Silver<\/em>. It’s his second novel in what looks to be an ongoing dramatic series involving crime and supernatural happenings in the modern-day San Diego suburban canyons and neighborhoods of Mission Hills and is about ‘what ties all things together’, is due out soon. His debut book, A Shadow Cast In Dust<\/em>, was released earlier this year to widespread critical acclaim.)<\/strong><\/p>\n Rick Oca and Eddie cracked their bottles on the roots of a fig tree in the center of the park. \u201cCareful what you say. Little Crow might be listening,\u201d said Eddie.<\/p>\n \tEddie had given Pearl the nickname after he\u2019d been thwarted trying to rip off the neighborhood liquor store. He\u2019d never proven that she was the one that blew the whistle on his beer pilfering, done in the store\u2019s one blind spot from the cameras stationed throughout, but he just knew. She was always around.<\/p>\n \tHe hadn\u2019t checked that day, feeling comfortable, but for some reason one of the cameras had been moved, and he\u2019d been caught on tape. The next time he had gone back to the store he had been given two options; pay back what they had calculated was missing and be able to come back afterward, or go to jail and be banned from the store, in which case he would still be held liable for the expenses. There was no choice. He couldn\u2019t run. Everybody in the neighborhood knew where he lived due to the regional fame of \u201cRockin\u2019\u201d Royce Calhoun, his father, an Olympic boxer from years past.<\/p>\n \tHe didn\u2019t put it together at first, but each time he saw Pearl in the vicinity of something, the situation went south. Now, in the park, drinking quarts of malt liquor with Rick, he brought up the subject.<\/p>\n \t\u201cYour sister\u2019s a spy or something. Like a narc.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cDude,\u201d said Rick, shaking his head. \u201cShe\u2019s not a narc. She\u2019s a twelve-year-old girl that thinks she\u2019s Sherlock Holmes.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cWell, whatever. Every time she hangs around, well . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cLike I said, twelve. You gotta watch what you say around kids, dude. Plus she\u2019s insanely smart, and actively tries to listen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLike a little crow,\u201d said Eddie. He looked up into the trees, into the eyes of a black bird amidst the branches. It warbled, and his stomach felt queasy. \u201cLittle Crow. That\u2019s your sister\u2019s Indian name.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cAre you for real? Pearl is her Indian name. We\u2019re fucking part Ipai.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cWhat is that?\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cAn Indian name.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cI thought you were Mexican.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cThat too. Let\u2019s just move on. Pearl will ruin your plans, so be careful what you say. It\u2019s not that hard to avoid her if you\u2019re aware.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cLittle Crow,\u201d said Eddie, tasting the words. \u201cIt wouldn\u2019t surprise me if she was the one who put all that shit on my porch.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cI doubt it.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cYeah, but you don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n \tRick shrugged. It would be just like Pearl to do something like that, actually, but he kept it to himself.<\/p>\n \t\u201cBesides,\u201d said Eddie, \u201clittle crows have a thing for garbage.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cEasy with that little crow shit, dude, seriously. What did you want to talk to me about? Not my sister, hopefully.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cNot at all, okay. Anyway . . . \u201d Eddie\u2019s voice drifted off. Rick followed his gaze to a small black-and-gold dog across the grass in front of them. A forty-pound baja mutt with a black bandana around its neck. It whined, staring at Eddie. <\/p>\n \tThe sound of retching made Rick turn his head. Eddie was puking his malt liquor into the sprawling roots. When Rick looked back, the dog disappeared behind a copse of miniature palms.<\/p>\n \tPearl, hiding amidst the palms, was shocked. The little dog did something to Eddie, that neanderthal. She\u2019d seen the little dog before, with the cop\u2019s kid from the news. Just yesterday.<\/p>\n \tShe\u2019d been spying on Eddie\u2019s house one day when she saw Rupert Figgins the first time. Three months ago, before all the news stories. He was about her own age, taller and stringy. Everyone was taller than Pearl, it seemed. He covered the porch with garbage and dog shit and rang the doorbell with a stick, then hid across the street and watched. She\u2019d told her brother Raul all about it, except for the part where the boy moved like a blur after he rang the bell, so fast her eyes couldn\u2019t follow. This dog was with him then, too.<\/p>\n \tThen came the news, and after that she\u2019d been trying to find him until yesterday when he was being tracked by that spidery kid who was missing a finger. This time he moved even faster, so fast he wasn\u2019t there. She couldn\u2019t tell anyone about that. She wouldn\u2019t even tell her grandfather, if he were around to listen.<\/p>\n \tNow, with Eddie throwing up his beer, the little dog walked past her hiding place where she had been reading lips. It looked right at her without breaking stride, gave a muffled bark, and took off like a shot across the one-way road into the pine trees. <\/p>\n \tKeeping the palms between herself and Eddie, Pearl picked up her bike and followed. She got as far as the pine break before she lost sight of the dog over the cusp of the canyon. When she saw it again it was up the other side, almost to the golf course. She pedaled as fast as she could, careful she wasn\u2019t re-entering her brother and Eddie\u2019s line of sight. <\/p>\n \tA mockingbird squawked to her from a bouncing branch. She looked as she passed by, and couldn\u2019t tear her eyes from it. Her front tire hit a root in the path and she ended up crashing off the trail and rolling into the weeds.<\/p>\n \t\u201cDang, bird,\u201d she said. \u201cWhy\u2019d you do that?\u201d<\/p>\n
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