Valley of the Broken (Sage of Sevens Book 1)

by K. F. Baugh

  Knowing Gus would have alerted her to any danger, Sage figured Tim must be nearby, and her panic ticked down a notch. Still, she hurried to pull on a clean shirt and pants.

  She crawled from the tent and blinked in the morning light illuminating the landscape around her with vivid contrast. Pines whispered above and the aspen leaves fluttered in the breeze. Thick drops of dew hung on wildflower petals with glistening brilliance. The sharp, cold air made it seem as though the world had been created anew while she slept. The chuckle of an overhead bird saluted her with a joy that made her skin tingle. She wished this moment, this peaceful dawn, would last forever.

  Shielding her eyes from the sun’s radiance, she turned in a slow circle. Where were Tim and Gus?

  Sage let out a short, sharp whistle and saw the flash of Gus’s gray and white coat a few hundred yards down the mountainside. As she started down, Sage spied Tim sitting on a log, head bowed, and Gus now resting at his feet. The dog watched as she approached and wagged his tail, but remained with Tim.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Tim said. Sage saw he had a book on his lap.

  “Did you get any sleep last night?”

  “Not much. Nightmares.” Tim didn’t elaborate, and Gus licked at his hand.

  Sage sat on the log next to him. “What are you reading?”

  “The Bible, of course,” he said with a short laugh.

  “Why of course?”

  “That’s what all good priests do.” He held it out for her to examine.

  Sage hesitated before accepting it. She flipped through a few pages before letting it fall back open to the one he’d bookmarked with an aspen leaf. “Priest? I thought you were a teacher.”

  “Actually, I’m a handyman and a janitor these days. I only help out at the church from time to time with the teenagers. That’s the group that nobody wants.”

  “I don’t understand,” Sage handed the book back to him and studied his face. Dark shadows encircled his eyes and as she watched his mouth twitch, Sage realized he was barely keeping his emotions under control. She had to get this guy to calm down. “Why don’t you read me something?”

  He smoothed the page with the leaf and read,

  Never again will they hunger;

  never again will they thirst.

  The sun will not beat down on them,

  nor any scorching heat.

  For the Lamb at the center of the throne

  will be their shepherd;

  he will lead them to springs of living water.

  And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

  His voice faded into the still mountain silence.

  “That’s beautiful,” Sage said. “Who is it talking about?”

  Tim looked down at the page again. “These are they who have come out of the great tribulation.”

  “Great tribulation? Like Sheriff Davis?” She asked, and Tim’s face turned white. He shut the book with a loud snap.

  “Yes. Worse than the others.”

  “I need you to talk about it.” Sage said. “And why we had to get away from town so quickly.”

  “I can’t! It was … I can’t do it, all right?,” he snarled and the words echoed down the hillside.

  “You’re going to have to calm--” Sage began, but Gus shoved his nose against her knees, his eyes pleading. Sage swallowed the sharp words on her tongue and continued more softly, “I know we’re both rattled right now. I keep asking myself how we could have prevented this. What we should have done different.” Listened to the Wind more closely? Sage wondered. Waited until morning when there were more people around? Would that have prevented the sheriff’s murder?

  “It’s not just that,” Tim said. “I’m … I guess I’m not completely sure what I saw. It was terrible, I know that at least. But sometimes, I see things. It’s been awhile, but--”

  “What do you mean, see things?” The glade suddenly plunged into darkness. Sage looked above her and saw a dark thunderhead race across the sky.

  “Like, flashbacks.” Tim picked up a pine cone and threw it at a distant tree. “I worked in Sudan before I came to Black Mills. Back in my priest days. I was there during the civil war.” His hands clenched on his lap.

  “I thought you mentioned Sudan last night. So you were in the middle of the fighting?” Sage asked.

  Tim nodded. “I had just been ordained. They sent me to this tiny village in the middle of the Nuba Mountains. My congregation was made up mainly of poor farmers who were completely unprepared for war. The genocide happened so quickly. When the killing started, a lot of people came to hide in the church, hoping they’d be safe. We stayed together for a few days before one of the militia groups found us. They didn’t kill me, because I was an American, but everyone else … I tried to stop them, but I got knocked out.” He fingered a scar Sage hadn’t noticed before running the length of the hairline on his forehead.

  “When I woke up, everyone was dead. All over the church. All of them. Even the—” Tim’s voice broke. “The children.” He stood and walked over to an aspen tree. His fingers found cracks in the trunk, and Tim absently peeled off chunks of the white bark and tossed them to the ground.

  “I was sent home by my diocese and immediately hospitalized. With PTSD. For a long time.”

  “PTSD? The thing soldiers have when they come back?”

  He gave her a terse nod. “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Eventually it became manageable. I moved to Black Mills. I’ve been doing better, but last night … I couldn’t be sure of what I saw, what was happening. It was almost like whoever did it tried to make it look like what happened in Sudan.”

  Sage met Gus’s gaze again and mulled over Tim’s words. So anything this guy tells us is suspect?

  The dog cocked his head.

  Can I trust him? Is he crazy?

  Gus walked over to Tim and curled up next to him. He rested his head on Tim’s feet and stared at Sage.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you think you saw, and we’ll wade through it. Together,” Sage said.

  Tim scratched the stubble on his chin and turned to her, his eyes weary. “But it might all be lies. Something my mind’s made up. Or maybe I’ve completely lost it. If I keep showing up at all these murder scenes maybe I’m the one—” Tim groaned, clenching his fists across his chest. “I feel like I’m going crazy, Sage.” He turned from the aspen abruptly. “We should head back to town. I need to check in with a doctor.”

  “Just tell me what you saw.” Sage stood. “Remember those cop cars last night? Remember what we discovered in the mine? I saw those things too. You’re not crazy.”

  Tim leaned his head against the stark white aspen trunk. He glanced at Sage with bloodshot eyes. “I can only tell you what I think I saw,” he whispered. “But--”

  “That’s all I want to hear,” Sage said.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tim tried to speak several times, but seemed unable to find the words. He leaned against the tree and slid down until he was crouched by the trunk.

  Sage kneeled next to him. “So you said you were at the church?”

  Tim nodded.

  “Why were you in the church and not your apartment?”

  “I started out at my apartment. I was exhausted when you dropped me off, so I plugged my camera into my laptop to download those pictures and went straight to bed. I woke up when my cell rang. It said Ron Davis, so I answered it. I thought he might have another question.”

  Tim shook his head and swallowed. Sage willed him to continue.

  “What I heard was terrible. Screaming. Swearing. I think it was Ron’s voice, but I’m not sure.” He swallowed. Gus moved to rest his head on Tim’s knee, and Tim buried his fingers in the soft fur around the dog’s neck. “I didn’t know what to do. I kept asking if he needed help, to tell me where he was, but he never answered me. Should I hang up, call the police? But I didn’t even know where he was or if it was really Ron. Finally the … noises stopped.” />
  “And then?” Sage asked.

  “And then this other … thing came on the line. Its voice; I could barely understand. It was distorted. Weird. Growling and … I can’t even describe it.”

  “What did it say?” Sage asked, dread creeping across her shoulders.

  “Weird stuff like, ‘You dare to enter this battle? This is what happens to those who would stand against me.’ It sounds crazy, I know.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Well, I think I yelled at it. Demanded to know who it was and what had happened to Ron. All I got was laughter. I kept yelling, but it didn’t answer.

  “I almost hung up, but then finally it said, ‘Your friend was not so brave as he pretended. He begged me to stop at the end. You will too. But come, find what is left of him. He awaits you at your church.’

  “That’s just down the block from my house, so I ran. I have a key, you know, with the janitor work. I unlocked the back door. The killer was already gone. But Ron … wasn’t.”

  “Body parts strewn down the aisle, right?”

  “And on the altar, just like in … just like …” Tim gasped and began to rock gently back and forth, reminding Sage of how he’d been the night before.

  “Got it,” Sage said and scooted as close to him as she could, their bodies touching. “Don’t get stuck, Tim. What happened next?”

  “I wasn’t thinking straight at that point,” Tim snapped. Gus nuzzled Tim’s hand. Absently, Tim began to stroke the dog again. “I was about to call the police but then heard sirens. I was so confused. Had I already called them and forgotten?”

  Sage shook her head. “Maybe.”

  “Well, I ran to the church office to look through the window and saw flashing police cars pull up to the front of the church. Olson got out of the first car and other officers followed him to the front door. It was still locked since I’d gone in the back entrance. Olson sent the other officers around the building. Those church windows are old, single-paned, so I could hear everything.

  “Why didn’t you let them in? Call out?”

  “I almost did,” Tim nodded. “But something stopped me. Then Olson made a call on his phone, so I decided to listen instead. He said, ‘We’re at the church. Anders saw Burgney go in, so we should have him in custody in a matter of minutes.’”

  “What?” Sage barked.

  Tim nodded. “Then Olson says something like, ‘Yeah, we’re headed to her house next. Anders has some eyes there too, so it should be pretty easy. We’ll book them tonight and have the story in tomorrow morning’s paper. Sooner than planned, but the best we could do.’”

  “What the hell?” Sage jumped up, trembling. “They were trying to pin Davis’s murder on us?”

  Tim looked up at her. “I could hear the police coming in by then, yelling, discovering … Ron. After a few minutes Olson starts screaming my name, and yelling stuff like, ‘I know you did this Burgney! You might as well give yourself up!’

  “After the way he treated us at the police department last night, I decided to get out of there. I climbed through the window and snuck back to my apartment. I grabbed my computer, camera, and a few things and ran straight to your house.

  “Right away, I spied the eyes Olson was talking about. There was a police car parked in front of your house. I looped around the block and came through your alley. I didn’t have a plan or anything, just knew I had to warn you. And that we needed to escape.”

  A familiar feeling of helplessness built in Sage’s stomach, quickly followed by rage. She thought she’d escaped this type of bullshit back when she’d officially aged out from the foster system at age eighteen. Since that time, she’d worked to make herself nearly undetectable to any governmental agency or anyone else for that matter. Resignation competed with fury as the full ramifications of Tim’s story sank in. She was back on their radar.

  “I wonder if I should have stayed in Black Mills,” Tim said. “It doesn’t look good that I bolted. Maybe I should have turned myself in. But I wasn’t even thinking straight at that point. I went into survival mode and ran. I guess I reverted back to…”

  “Your Post Traumatic thing,” Sage finished.

  “Yeah. Again.” Tim shook his head. “I panicked. I ran like a coward. Just like before.”

  Sage shook her head. “I wouldn’t call self-preservation cowardly. Only an idiot would have turned himself into Olson.”

  Tim leaned his forehead against his arms, obviously spent. “Guess I’m not an idiot then.”

  “No, you’re not,” Sage said after studying Tim for several moments. “And I don’t think you’re imagining this.”

  “Are you kidding?” Tim’s head shot up. “The way he died? It’s crazy. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in Black Mills.”

  “That’s what I thought at first, too, but just because Black Mills was safe in the past, that doesn’t mean it’s going to stay that way. Besides, if you were making up something, or having a flashback, wouldn’t your brain remember what you already saw? You said in Sudan the church was full of people, but this time it was just Ron, right?”

  Tim considered her words. “I don’t know. I still have nightmares, but I haven’t experienced hallucinations for almost twelve years.”

  “This wasn’t a hallucination,” Sage said. “Those were real cop cars chasing us out of town.”

  “Well, what do we do now?” Tim asked, his voice sharp. “Assuming the deaths are connected. Assuming Officer Olson has it in for us.”

  “I’m going to make another couple of assumptions, based on all that’s happened,” Sage said, And not just the parts you know about, she added silently. “This is bigger than three murders. There’s something going on in the Oriel Valley, and it’s beginning to leak into Black Mills. Maybe even further.

  “So what do we do?” Tim asked.

  “It’s time to go look at your pictures,” Sage said and stood. She held a hand out to Tim and helped pull him up.

  He squeezed her hand briefly. “Thanks.”

  “For what?” Sage asked as they walked up the hill.

  “For not letting me lose myself.” He shook his head. “I felt like I was sliding back into the darkest parts of my mind. And I never wanted to go there again.”

  Sage nodded grimly. He had too many memories of his worst moment, and she had none. What a strange combination they made.

  Chapter Twelve

  After they returned to the campsite, Sage insisted they move her tent under the cover of the trees. They pulled her Jeep as far into the forest as possible and then hid the rest of it with underbrush. The two spent the rest of the morning studying the mine pictures Tim had downloaded to his computer before chaos had taken over the night before.

  “Make sure nobody can track us with your signals,” Sage warned him again. “I want this place to stay secret.”

  “Everything that can be tracked is off, I promise.”

  They examined each image meticulously, Tim magnifying and then zooming out. The feature came in especially handy with the pictographs. Sage had Tim zoom into the images and tweak them with different color filters.

  “Huh,” Sage said after studying one for several minutes.

  “Find something?” Tim asked.

  “I don’t know. Probably not. There’s just a figure in the pictograph I didn’t see before.” Sage pointed to one of the images near the edge of the battle scene. “I guess the filter on the computer makes it easier to see.”

  “What is it? An eagle?” Tim asked.

  “Maybe. Or it could be a thunderbird.” Sage traced the upraised wings with her fingertips.

  “Thunderbird? Is that like a phoenix?”

  “I’m not sure.” Sage shook her head. “But I think it’s more a symbol of rain. Or lightning and thunderstorms.”

  “I don’t think that helps us.”

  “You’re right,” Sage sighed. “We should go back to the series that shows the coyotes’ kill area.” She pulled the computer onto h
er lap and scanned through the pictures one by one. There were two that drew her attention: the close up she’d taken of the bottle she’d found with the letters LOZA on it, and the area where the coyotes had gathered around the remains. Sage observed them with a hardening conviction that something was off.

  Sage handed Tim the computer then stood and stretched.

  “What are you doing?” Tim asked.

  “I’ve got to run. Or swim. Or do something to let my mind process this without thinking about it,” she said.

  “Okay,” Tim said, closing the computer. “Guess I could handle a walk.”

  “Alone,” Sage spoke without hesitation. “This is the most time I’ve spent with another human in years. No offense, Tim, but I need some space.”

  “None taken.” Tim turned quickly, and Sage wondered if she’d hurt him. If so, it was his own fault. She wasn’t his babysitter, and she needed a break.

  “Look, I’m just not used to all this talking,” Sage said.

  “It’s fine. I was just surprised. You take a little … getting used to,” Tim shrugged then reopened his computer.

  Used to? Sage watched Tim click through the images again. What was that supposed to mean? If this guy was imagining some sort of long-term relationship evolving out of this nightmare scenario, he’d be very disappointed.

  Gus rose to follow her as she jerked the zipper of the tent, but Sage shook her head and pointed at Tim. She still wasn’t entirely sure she trusted him; at the very least, he was a flight risk, but Gus would make sure Tim stayed put.

  Sage trotted to the edge of their camp and broke into a run toward the valley. She pushed herself down the hill, dodging tree branches and leaping over roots and rocks. The Wind rushed through her hair, whipping it about her shoulders. She ran faster, wishing she could fly away.

  When she came within sight of the stream, Sage pulled off her clothes and, climbing onto an outcropping, jumped into a deep pool. Its snow-melt frigidity took her breath away, and she forced her body down, down to the bottom. Her limbs brushed against the water-smoothed boulders where the large trout hid, feeding on insect larvae in the summer and hibernating in the winter. Their slippery fins brushed against her arms, legs, and body as she swam next to them, letting the current drag her slowly toward the end of the basin.