Cry in the Night

by Colleen Coble

  She gathered up her purse and slipped on her coat in a daze. Clutching her purse, she walked back down the hall and through the waiting room. A newborn baby mewled in her mother’s arms as Bree neared the exit. She had to look, and her heart melted at the sight of a rosebud mouth and smooth, perfect skin. The Native American baby had the biggest thatch of black hair that Bree had ever seen.

  “She’s precious,” she said.

  The mother smiled and thanked Bree, who quickly escaped into the harsh wind that scoured the tears from her face.

  Kade glanced out his office window into the back lot. There were no baby animals in the rescue area that he was so proud of, but come spring, the pens would be full.

  Judith Kettrick stuck her head in the door. “You hear the report?” The ranger-brown of her uniform accentuated her sallow complexion.

  Kade turned from the window. “What report?” He hoped she hadn’t gotten her pink slip. The place was becoming a ghost town since the budget cuts.

  “A woman on the reservation reported her baby was taken by a windigo.”

  Kade raised an eyebrow. “Windigo? Why would she say that?” Windigos were the Ojibwa Indians’ version of a vampire. The evil spirit was said to have an insatiable hunger.

  “She heard a scream. I’m wondering if she heard a cougar. Thought you might be interested in checking it out.”

  “A cougar, huh? Interesting. Did they find the baby?” He suppressed a shudder at the thought that a big cat might have taken an infant.

  “Nope.”

  “Where did it happen?”

  “In the community building. She was there with a bunch of other women, and they heard a scream outside. There were several babies in carriers along the inside wall. The women went to the door to look. When they came back in, she went to check on the baby, but he was gone.”

  “A cougar couldn’t have taken the baby then. Not from inside the building.” At least that was a relief.

  “Which is why she’s blaming a windigo. She claimed they heard weird screams and saw huge humanoid tracks.”

  “Bigfoot,” Kade said, and then wished he hadn’t. It was too flippant for the seriousness of a missing baby.

  Her brown eyes widened. “You think bigfoot would take a baby?”

  “It was a joke, Kettrick. Not a very good one though. When was this? You tell Landorf?”

  “Yes. He wants you to go check it out. This was about ten days ago. Not sure why we’re just now hearing about it.”

  “Who’s the mother?”

  “Diann Meadowlark. The res police have filed a missing person’s report with the different sheriff ’s departments around.” She lowered her voice. “Way I heard it, this is the second report of a missing baby.”

  “You’re kidding! Why hasn’t this hit the media?”

  She shrugged. “You know how the Natives like to handle their own problems. They might not have reported it until now. I heard both babies were part Caucasian.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out. But you know, they may not talk to me.”

  “I do. Let me know if you find out anything.” Kettrick left the doorway.

  Kade turned to his computer. This grant application he was trying to complete was a nightmare. Landorf wanted it done though, so he had no choice.

  As if summoned by Kade’s thoughts, Head Ranger Gary Landorf stepped into the office. Landorf was a slight man in his early fifties. His quick movements and keen dark eyes had always reminded Kade of a ferret. He ran the park with an iron fist that seemed out of keeping with his small stature.

  “How’s that application coming?” Landorf asked.

  “Working on it.”

  “How’s the wife?”

  “Good. I’m a lucky man.”

  “It was her lucky day when she met you. That last husband of hers was a piece of work.” Landorf shook his head.

  Kade glanced up and watched him fiddle with the bird band on his finger. It was the band from the first eagle Landorf had ever tagged, and he’d worn it for three years, ever since he found the twenty-five-year-old eagle dead. Landorf ’s love of eagles was one of the things the two men had in common.

  “I’ve only heard people speak highly of Rob,” Kade said.

  Landorf shrugged and shut the door. “Listen, Kade, just between you and me, that grant has the power to save some jobs around here. I want you to pad some of the lion sightings and ask for more money. Maybe get out in the woods and fake some tracks.” He held up his hand when Kade shook his head. “Hear me out. It’s for a good cause. If we can show more wildlife activity, we can justify money to pay for manpower. Do you want to see your friends have to move away?”

  “No,” Kade admitted.

  “Neither do I. And it doesn’t hurt anyone. It’s just government money. There was no call for them to let our people go. This is a way around it.”

  Landorf made sense, and Kade had no good reason to contradict him. It was a boneheaded decision by the park service to slash jobs here. They were doing important work. Getting enough grant money to hire more people would rectify the error. Still, his nod was reluctant as Landorf told him to have the application ready by the middle of next week.

  Quinn Matilla was in no mood to listen to whining. He sat on the mahogany coffee table to remove his shoes, dropped them onto the plush hotel carpeting, then leaned forward. He glanced out the window at the quiet Sault Sainte Marie street. “The baby has to be somewhere. Find her,” he barked into the phone.

  “I’ve looked everywhere,” Rosen said in his high voice.

  Quinn glanced at his watch. The newscast should tell them tonight if their orders were being followed. “You check with her friends? Maybe she asked someone to watch the baby.”

  Rosen sniffed. “She told me I’d never find it. I saw her with a backpack, but when I caught up to her, it was missing. I looked all over.”

  Quinn wanted to smash something. What a nightmare. “Are you telling me that baby could be out in the woods? Find her!

  We’ve got no leverage if she dies.” He picked up the remote control and threw it across the room. “I didn’t want to get involved in this in the first place.”

  Probably the wrong thing to say. Their partnership had been fraying since a storm sank a boatful of drugs in Lake Superior. It hadn’t been his fault, but their first argument over this latest deal only made things worse.

  “We might have to assume we’ll have no baby to give back.”

  Quinn balled his fists. “What’d you do with the body?”

  “I left her there. It looks like she just fell and hit the branch.”

  He swore. “I didn’t mean to kill her.”

  Quinn let his contempt show in his voice. “You’re an idiot, Rosen.”

  “I’m not the only one who messed up. Some kid saw you bury the other one in the snow last Saturday. The autistic dude saw too. The boss thought you should know so you could handle the situation.”

  Quinn straightened. He’d caught a glimpse of figures in the woods on his way back to the car but was sure they’d seen nothing. “How’s he know what they saw?” He shouldn’t be surprised though. The man had eyes in the back of his head.

  “His old lady told him. Florence was with them.”

  Quinn hadn’t made out much beyond the kid’s IU jacket and hat and the other guy’s size. “The adult is autistic? Would he even say anything?”

  Rosen shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Can’t take the chance though.”

  If Florence hadn’t gotten cold feet, he wouldn’t be in this situation. The past few years he’d managed to stay out of Rock Harbor, and now here he was, being forced back twice in three days. “I’ll handle it.” He hung up the phone.

  He’d done a lot of things in his life, but kid killing wasn’t one of them. First he’d find out what the kid saw. And the autistic guy. Maybe nothing would have to be done.

  Glancing at his watch, he realized Jenna would be back any minute. As if on cue, he heard the front door
open, and Jenna Pelton stepped into the suite.

  She stamped her feet in those stupid fluffy boots. “I found the best deal on Donald J Pliner shoes.” Carrying four bags, she padded across the thick carpet. “And I bought a darling Prada bag for five hundred dollars. What a sale they had!” She sent a sultry smile his way. “I got a darling pink teddy too. Wait until you see it.”

  She sank onto the sofa and curled up into the throw but said nothing. Her blue eyes studied his face. Her blonde beauty turned heads wherever he took her, but she was higher maintenance than he liked.

  The boredom slid from her face as she studied his expression.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What isn’t?” He sighed, dropped a kiss on top of her head, then sat next to her.

  She kicked off her high-heeled boots. “You’re not the only one with troubles. My brother called babbling about some baby being put in the snow.”

  “Brother? I forgot you had a brother.”

  She nodded. “Victor. He’s autistic. High-functioning though, and he keeps down a job, so he’s never been any trouble to me.

  He lives in Rock Harbor.”

  Quinn’s gut twisted. He’d known all that once but forgot.

  Could there be two autistic men in Rock Harbor? “He prone to tell stories?” She moved over to snuggle against him. Her perfume made him dizzy, but he stayed motionless as he tried to sort out how much of a risk Victor might be.

  She ran her hand over his face. “He’s very imaginative. I calmed him down.”

  “Maybe you should go see him. I have to make a trip up there anyway. Right away.”

  She pouted. “I had other plans for this afternoon.” Her fingers began to unbutton his shirt.

  He caught at her hand. “Later. I need to pack. You too, if you’re coming with me.” He got up, nearly dumping her on the floor.

  3

  SAMSON BARKED AND BOUNDED AHEAD THROUGH THE snow with Bree and Davy trailing behind. Davy didn’t have much to say about the lesson he’d had with Florence and Timmy, nor about whether he was excited to fish today. Bree settled into his silence, wondering if his mind was on last night’s dream.

  The trail through the woods was packed and easy to navigate. Little Wolf Lake was a popular ice-fishing destination but today it was deserted.

  Paulie, a cardinal that had “adopted” them, circled and swooped above their heads. Samson ducked and whined when the bird dive-bombed him. Bree could almost hear Paulie laugh as he flew away. He perched on a branch nearby and watched them.

  The wind pierced Bree’s down jacket but not her depression. Stopping to see her dad in the nursing home hadn’t helped either. He was totally gone now, buried in dementia. He never knew her or responded anymore. Her sister, Cassie, had left town to go back to her job last week, knowing their father might slip away before the next visit.

  Sometimes Bree thought it would be for the best if he could escape the body that trapped him.

  Her son showed no sign of noticing the cold. She held his mittened hand as they trudged along the path. Just ahead, the forest opened onto a frozen glade. Ice shanties dotted the lake, and Davy and she could have their pick. They were alone today, a perfect time to talk, sitting side by side, fishing with their poles.

  She set down the box of tackle and retied a loose bootlace.

  “Where do you want to fish?”

  He pointed out the closest shanty, a blue and white plastic one.

  “Can I cut the hole in the ice?” Davy asked.

  She couldn’t resist his pleading green eyes. “All right, if you’re careful.” They stepped inside the shanty, and the structure blocked the bite of the wind. The weak sunlight bounced off the ice and lit everything with a gentle glow. They wouldn’t have long. It got dark early this time of year.

  She sat on the bench and began to unpack their gear. Davy knelt beside her, and she handed him the ice auger. He put it on the ice and began to turn the handle. She doubted he’d have the strength to get the bit through the ice, but he kept at it. She watched his smooth movements. Kade had taught him well, and his thin frame was beginning to lose its baby fat. Soon he’d have muscles like Kade too.

  What was she thinking? He’d never have Kade’s burly frame.

  Davy’s body was built for Rob’s long, slim muscles. She shook her head and smiled at her self-deception.

  “It’s through!” His face shone with achievement.

  She used the ice chisel to widen the hole, and soon she and Davy had their lines in the water. Samson crowded under her legs and helped keep her warm. With her arm around her son, Bree realized the day that had started out badly had turned perfect.

  He leaned his head against her. The sock hat he wore would soon be too small for him. It was both a pain and a pleasure to see how fast he was growing. He wouldn’t be her little boy much longer. Adolescence would be here before she could blink, then his teenage years. Time was so fluid and slipped through her fingers with every day.

  She pressed a kiss on his brow. “You’ve been quiet, honey. Anything you want to talk about?”

  His skin paled at her question, bringing the freckles on his nose into more prominent display. “I saw a windigo the other day, Mom. I didn’t want to tell you.”

  She tried to make light of his sudden preoccupation with the legendary monster. “A windigo? Did it have big teeth?” He wasn’t so grown-up if he still saw boogeymen.

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t that kind of windigo. It’s the kind that possesses a person.”

  Most Rock Harbor adults were familiar with Ojibwa legend and Bree was no exception. In Ojibwa lore, the windigo monster stood as tall as a tree. It had jagged teeth in a lipless mouth and devoured people. She’d never talked to Davy about the legend, though some parents frightened their children into obedience with the story of the monster, much like a bigfoot. In some stories the windigo possessed a man instead, causing the hapless fellow to become a cannibal. Bree figured Davy had heard talk at school.

  She hugged him to her. “You know there’s no such thing, right?”

  His green eyes studied her face. “But I saw it.” Relief struggled with doubt in his face.

  “Where, honey?”

  “At the pond with Miss Florence and Victor, when she took us fishing last Saturday.”

  “What did you see?” she asked, her voice neutral.

  “The windigo.”

  They were going in circles. “I mean, what made you think it was a windigo?”

  “Because it looked kind of like Daddy.” He rubbed his eyes. “It looked right at me too. I was afraid and ran away.”

  Alarm prickled along her spine. Maybe last night’s dream and today’s sighting was a new manifestation of Davy’s longing for his real father. She should discuss this with Davy’s child psychologist.

  “He was mad.”

  She put confidence into her smile. “Well, there you go. It couldn’t have been Daddy. He was never mad at you.”

  He cupped his hand to the side of his mouth and stared out the opening of the shack before he whispered, “I saw what it did.”

  “What did it do?”

  He pressed his lips nearly against her ear. “It put a baby in the snow. I think it was hiding the baby from Miss Florence.”

  Bree frowned and tried to ignore her unease. She recalled his asking Florence if she found the baby. “Maybe a guy was getting rid of an old doll,” she said. “Sometimes people are bigger than we expect. And distances can distort size. Dad’s explained that to you before, right?”

  He nodded and chewed on his lip. “This was close though, Mom.”

  “Dave, there’s really no such monster.”

  “Maybe it was a ghost,” he whispered.

  “There are no ghosts either,” she assured him. “I think you’re missing Daddy and look for him in everyone you see.”

  “I saw a windigo with the baby,” he insisted.

  Could there be an element of truth in what Davy was talking ab
out? Her lame theory about disposing of a doll didn’t hold up either. Why dig a hole in the snow for a doll? “What did this person look like?”

  Davy pulled away to check his fishing pole. He jiggled his line in the water. “I told you—it was a windigo. They change every time you see them. This one sort of looked like my daddy, then it changed and had big teeth.”

  She wanted to pull out her hair. “What was he wearing?”

  “A black parka and jeans. Boots.”

  Rob hated black. The stray thought burst out of nowhere.

  “Maybe it was a vampire,” Davy said, his grin breaking out. “They have teeth and wear black. And it had blood dripping from its fangs.”

  “Now you’re really pushing it, buster.” She poked him. “I’m not that gullible. You pulling a fast one on your old mom?”

  His smile faded. “I really did see it, Mom. Maybe it didn’t have big teeth, but I’m sure it was a windigo. I was scared. So was Victor, and we ran away.”

  “Was Miss Florence scared?”

  “I don’t think so. She went to talk to him. She was really brave.”

  Bree hugged him. She’d clear this up with Florence. “I want you to forget all about this, okay? There’s no such thing as windigos. Or vampires or ghosts. Who’s been telling you such stories?”

  “One of the older kids at school showed me a book of monsters,” he said. He bared his teeth and growled. Samson raised his head as though to make sure things were okay, then flopped it back onto the ice.

  She had to laugh. “You make a good monster.” Those kinds of things were going to happen at school, and she couldn’t protect him forever, but she wanted to throttle the kid who had done it. “There are no real monsters. You know that, right?”

  Only human ones, who preyed on the defenseless. She wanted to protect him from that kind of knowledge too.

  “It sure looked real,” Davy said, his voice hesitant.

  “Why did you think it looked like your daddy?”