by Dannika Dark
It wasn’t uncommon for people in the sticks to leave their doors unlocked, so I dashed toward the small house and turned the knob. Once inside, I locked the door behind me and caught my breath.
The first thing I did was search for a phone. Enough light filtered through the front window to keep me from having to switch on a lamp. I saw no trace of a landline. Maybe he only carried a cell phone, but I doubted he would have been careless enough to leave it in his car knowing that I might return. I wasn’t willing to run outside just yet and take that chance.
Instead, I rummaged through kitchen drawers for a weapon. The first thing I found was a large butcher knife. I gripped the handle and scanned the small living quarters. The kitchen and living room didn’t have a divider wall between them, so it made the house feel like a cabin. When I tiptoed down the short hall in the back, it led to a tiny bathroom on the left, a coat closet straight ahead, and a bedroom to the right. Since the bedroom didn’t have a window, I switched on the overhead light.
Crow lived in a dump. The headboard rested against the left wall, only a blanket and a pillow covering the stained mattress. Ashtrays were on the floor beside it, ashes scattered everywhere. To the immediate right of the door was a dresser with arrowheads, lighters, pieces of jewelry, and an empty beer can on top. I opened a drawer and found several stacks of large bills.
Why would he choose to live like this if he had money?
The cedar chest at the end of the bed seemed like an odd thing for a man to own, so I lifted the lid and peered inside. “Purses?”
I pulled three out. Each was filled with items like lipstick, pens, wallets, and keys. If I’d had an inkling about it before, I was now certain that Crow had to be the serial killer. What else would he be doing with all these personal items? I thought about the covetous look in his eyes when he admired my pendant. Even though he was an owl, it seemed that Crow couldn’t be a more fitting name for him. It perfectly described his thieving nature, as crows were bandits and loved stealing.
No pictures were on the walls—no sign that the purses might have belonged to a mate or a girlfriend, as he’d implied. It must have been a ruse to make women feel more comfortable around him. I wondered if he’d slept with any of the victims and gotten a kick out of hunting them afterward.
I need to get out of here.
I switched off the light and hurried through the living room. Before I made it to the front door, I skidded to a stop. A wooden bow was propped against the couch, and the quiver beside it looked like the same kind that Tak owned. In fact, other tribal possessions were lying around the house—a small dreamcatcher, a doll, a necklace.
My eyes narrowed. “That asshole!”
I grabbed the necklace for a closer look. It was the turquoise pendant that I’d given to Koi’s mother. He’d flown overhead while they were at the funeral and pilfered it! He must have sat in the treetops, spying on them all the time. No wonder Tak was an easy target to pin the murders on. Crow could see his comings and goings and use that information to time when he decided to kill his next victim. I put the necklace in my jeans pocket and traded my knife for the bow and arrows.
I wondered how well Crow could see in the dark without a glowing moon in the sky. After a quick glance outside, I tiptoed toward the car. That stupid light pole felt like a big blinking arrow pointing right at me.
Torn, I glanced at the private road just ahead. Eventually he was going to circle back. I wondered how far I could get. Even though my wolf could eat that owl for dinner, I wasn’t about to fall into his trap of hunter and prey. I needed to outwit Crow and do what he least expected—turn the tables and hunt him instead.
Lakota barreled down the road until he reached the turnoff to Crow’s property. The truck tilted when he made a sharp right turn, a cloud of dust kicking up behind the rear tires as it skidded onto the dirt road.
His wolf thrashed and snarled beneath his skin, hungry for blood. He’d never felt so overwhelmed with the desire to kill—the need to protect what was his.
Lakota shut off the headlights and forced himself to slow down so that he didn’t announce his arrival to Crow.
Then again, what the hell was that joker doing if not sending out an open invitation to come find him? Kidnapping Mel and then waving at the cashier as he left the scene of the crime—he wanted Lakota to follow him, but he also wanted enough lead time to allow him to do whatever it was that he had planned. Perhaps that was exactly what had happened with Koi and his girl, and with that in mind, Lakota needed to think rationally and not make any hasty decisions.
He slammed on the brakes and killed the engine. When the headlights shut off, the night cloaked him in darkness. Lakota emerged from the truck and headed up the dirt road, his footsteps masked by the chirping crickets and rustling grass. Seeing a light in the distance made him slow down and pay attention to his surroundings. In front of a run-down house, he spotted Crow’s green car, the trunk and the driver’s-side door wide open. Lakota sidled off the road and into the brush. He didn’t see anyone outside, and there was no movement inside the car. The front door to the house was wide open, but no lights were on.
He unsheathed his knife and sprinted toward the house. Bracing for an attack, Lakota used his left arm as a shield as he quietly made his way inside, his heart pounding and the taste of adrenaline on his tongue. The outside light barely revealed the empty kitchen and living room. He moved to the hall, his gaze briefly skating down to a human skull with a melted candle on top. Anyone might have assumed it was decorative until they gave it a closer look.
The bathroom door was open and the room empty. Lakota flipped on the bedroom light and shouldered the door open. He scanned the empty room for clues. Tokens that belonged to Shikoba’s tribe were on top of the dresser. In the corner was a large box filled with cartons of Pilgrim cigarettes. Lakota did a brief calculation in his head of how much money Crow had wasted on those things. Yet despite all that money, he slept in a room with deep cracks in the walls and water stains on the ceiling.
Inside one of the drawers, he found two daggers that belonged to the Iwa tribe. More specifically, they were weapons the warriors carried. The blade had a distinct shape, with a backward hook on the dull spine that would do significant damage when pulled out of a body. One had dark stains on the wood handle.
A chill ran down his spine when he realized that Crow had intentionally used sacred tribal weapons to commit the crimes. It must have frustrated Crow that the Council had kept those details secret until the time of Tak’s arrest. Had he also scattered tokens from the tribe around the bodies? No wonder the higher authority had specifically requested Lakota for the case. They knew that as a Native, he would gravitate toward the tribes and be able to infiltrate their community, which was whom they’d suspected all along. Given the tension that existed among the people in this territory, Crow had played a smart game.
A floorboard creaked. Lakota whirled around just in time to grip someone’s raised arm, preventing a knife from going into his chest.
Kaota’s eyes widened. “I thought you were Crow,” he said, lowering his arm. “I saw your truck parked down the road and came up on foot. Where is he?”
“Not in here. What did the Council say?”
“They’re coming.”
Lakota didn’t blink. “All of them?”
Kaota regarded the arrowheads on the dresser. “Only Jack and Robert were at the compound. It’ll take the rest too long to get out here, and someone has to stay with Tak. Only one of them is coming.”
Lakota moved into the hall. “We need to find Melody.”
They jogged out the front door, the air sticky and warm.
“Take a look at this,” Kaota said, pointing at the open trunk.
Lakota peered in.
Kaota held up a brown shirt with a design on the front. “This was Koi’s,” he said, his face full of rage and grief. “He was wearing it the day he went missing.”
Lakota couldn’t imagine the pain Kaota
must have felt losing his brother. Most of the items were women’s clothes, and some still had what appeared to be bloodstains on them.
“I bet those are Crow’s,” Lakota said, pointing at a pair of bloody men’s jeans. Reno had been right about him being both smart and stupid. Elaborately carrying out murders, only to stuff evidence in his trunk—it probably gave him a thrill driving around, knowing he was getting away with it.
Kaota squeezed Koi’s shirt in his fist. “And the rest?”
Lakota stepped back. “Souvenirs.”
He’d been at his job long enough to have seen the signature habits of a killer who took pride in his work. Serial killers collected items to remind them of the kill. Contract killers didn’t, because keeping evidence was far too risky. Crow was a rare breed because he’d turned a passion into a career. Based on the tokens inside the house, he must have trespassed on tribal land numerous times. The tribe would have scented his wolf, so Lakota had a feeling he was another species of animal, one elusive enough to slip in and out without getting caught. Maybe Crow had finally hit rock bottom because no one was hiring him, and he was taking out all his anger on innocent victims, using the tribe as a scapegoat to divert attention from his sadistic pleasures.
A strange calm came over Lakota, as if the danger had temporarily passed. He couldn’t explain it, but he somehow knew it was the invisible connection he shared with Melody. His gut told him she was okay.
For now.
He twirled the knife in his hand and looked around. Where the hell did this guy run off to in the dark of night?
Kaota tossed his brother’s shirt back into the trunk. “I’ll shift and look for a scent.”
Lakota made a slow turn and scanned the woods. “We don’t know what kind of animal we’re dealing with, so keep your wolf quiet. I’ll follow behind you. If Crow’s a grizzly, we’re going to need my knife.”
Kaota pulled a slender flashlight from the trunk and handed it to Lakota. “Just don’t stab me with that thing,” he said, nodding at the blade as he shifted.
His wolf lifted his nose, distinguishing Melody’s scent from Crow’s. He stopped in front of a pile of clothes on the ground and snorted. Lakota watched the wolf trot up to the car and then run back down the road. Seconds later, he reappeared, his nose working overtime as he scurried into the woods.
“And so it begins,” Lakota said, shadowing him.
Without moonlight, the darkness was all-encompassing. Kaota’s wolf could see better, but Lakota wasn’t completely blind. He drew what light he could from the stars. His father had taught him at an early age how to use his other senses. He moved slowly, stealthily, deciding against using the flashlight so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself, not until he knew what they were dealing with.
In the distance, Kaota’s wolf yelped. Lakota switched on his flashlight and picked up speed when the raucous sound of fighting grew louder. As he reached a small clearing, the flashlight tumbled to the ground, spraying light on the grim scene. Crow stood naked before Kaota, who had shifted to human form and was lying on the ground, bleeding.
Lakota charged ahead, palming his knife. Crow turned, the flash of a silver blade slicing the air. Taken by surprise, Lakota pivoted, but the sharp knife sliced across the front of his shoulder. He fell on one knee and drove his knife into Crow’s leg. With impeccable speed, Crow brought down his arm in a stabbing motion. Lakota had no time to think. He rolled out of reach and sprang to his feet.
It only took seconds for him to realize Crow was a skilled fighter. He was not a man lashing out with ineptitude—his moves were calculated and fast. He had an Iwa knife in his possession. It had a backward hook and could tear flesh from bone. Crow pulled Lakota’s knife free and tossed it into the woods.
Kaota was still lying to the side. Lakota remained focused, his spirit wolf smelling prey and the thrill of the chase.
“This is the end of the line,” Lakota declared, his arms wide as he circled around Crow. “The Council knows what you’ve done. It would be foolish to kill one of us when they’re on their way over.”
Crow shook his head, a sardonic grin on his face. “You simpleminded little half-breed.”
Lakota remained quiet. Crow’s animal was likely not a predator, yet he didn’t seem keen on fleeing the scene. An impulsive man fled, but an intelligent man never left behind witnesses.
“You’re my big fat paycheck,” Crow declared, nearing his bag.
Lakota quickly edged him away from it, suspecting he might have a gun or another weapon that would give him more of an advantage. Crow looked irritated and backed away.
“Where’s the girl?” Lakota demanded.
“You’re so easy to bait,” Crow remarked with a slow chuckle. “And I thought the girls were easy prey.”
Lakota’s blood boiled when Crow didn’t answer his question.
Crow moved in a flash and sliced Lakota’s arm. Instead of retreating, Lakota tried to muscle him to the ground, his hand tightly gripped around Crow’s wrist. They struggled for the knife, Lakota digging in his feet until Crow stumbled. When they slammed into a tree trunk, Lakota lost his footing and fell to the side, a stick jabbing him in the hip.
Kaota suddenly shifted back to wolf form and rose to his feet.
Crow bit down on a tassel hanging from the knife handle, the blade swinging below his chin like a pendulum. He didn’t need to turn around to know that Kaota’s wolf was advancing. He raised his arms high, and when he lowered them, they morphed into wings as he shifted.
“Get him!” Lakota shouted, surging forward.
The giant owl flapped his wings and quickly ascended before either of them could capture him. Lakota spotted his dagger and snatched it. He held it over his shoulder as he took aim and then threw it in a quick motion. The flashlight on the ground didn’t provide enough light for Lakota to see, and the knife missed, striking a tree in the distance.
Lakota hurried to Crow’s bag and dumped out its contents. Keys fell out along with a coil of nylon rope, a serrated knife, what looked like a poison dart, and a few tribal trinkets. He grabbed the knife in one hand and the flashlight in the other and sprang to his feet when Kaota’s wolf took off. “Stay on him!” he shouted.
Lakota’s footfalls were the only sounds as he ran, the flashlight slicing in erratic motions like a light show at a club. When he heard a woman screaming up ahead, his heart caught in his throat. He couldn’t make out the words, only the desperate sound of someone in trouble, and that someone was Melody.
After a short distance, he reached a small clearing where Kaota’s wolf was pacing in a circle. Lakota skidded to a stop and aimed the flashlight overhead, his eyes fixed on the skyscraper trees. The beam didn’t reach very far, but he was searching for the distinct illumination of two large eyes. Owls were clever at hiding, and Crow wouldn’t wander far if it meant his prey escaping.
Kaota shifted to human form and stood beside Lakota. “He’s up there. I can smell him.”
Lakota continued searching every branch. “How good is your aim?”
“Better than yours with a knife. Let me have it.”
With the blade in hand, Kaota raised his arm, reached back, and prepared to strike. Lakota slowly moved his flashlight around the area where Kaota was looking.
When a large bird ascended from a high branch, Lakota blocked the throw with his arm. “Wait! That’s a hawk. Don’t blow your shot.” He lowered his voice, shining his light in the wrong direction so as not to tip off Crow. “I see him. He’s at your three o’clock.”
“How high?”
“Thirty-five… maybe forty feet. You think you can clear that?”
Kaota swept his hair back, his shoulder still weeping blood. “We have no choice.”
“Get ready. Throw it when I aim my light at him,” Lakota said. “One… two…”
Lakota swung his light up at the tree. The owl’s head spun around like a cap unscrewing from a bottle, and when his enormous eyes locked on them, he pushed o
ff the branch and flapped his wings. Kaota backed up a step.
“Now!” Lakota shouted.
Kaota’s arm snapped forward, and the blade rotated through the air. Lakota’s breath caught when the bird twisted chaotically. The moment the blade struck the ground in the distance, Lakota cursed.
It was impossible to scale the tree in time. “We’re going to lose the bastard!”
Suddenly a shadow moved stealthily in a tree to his right. A figure circled around the trunk and into view, her appearance so gradual that she could have been slow-moving fog.
It was Melody. Not the quirky woman he had come to know but the brave warrior he remembered as a child. Anchoring her feet on the bough, she could have easily been mistaken for a tree nymph. Melody had exquisite form, her bowstring drawn back so steadily that she looked like a seminude statue.
“Holy shit,” Lakota whispered, turning his flashlight back onto Crow.
The owl moved erratically. It was obvious by his struggle that Kaota’s knife must have clipped his wing. When he ascended skyward, his wings stretched wide, and Lakota felt a cold wave of terror that he might escape. After a breathless second, Melody’s arrow whistled through the air and struck the bird.
Lakota raised his arms and howled victoriously. There was nothing more admirable than a woman taking down her foe. He swung his gaze over to Melody, who then gracefully lowered her bow and looked down at him. Fates, he wanted to pull that female into his arms. He’d never felt so much pride.
In the last seconds of victory, time stopped when Melody slipped from the high branch and fell.
Chapter 21
After I made the decision to hunt down Crow, I discovered it wasn’t terribly difficult to find him.