by CJ Lyons
Maybe Richland wasn't one of the good guys? Her research on the Marshal had revealed a mediocre record. Less than mediocre if you knew how to read between the lines of the bureaucratese wording of his fit-reps. And one curious item—he'd worked the Korsakov task force with her old boss, Jack Logan, back when they were both field agents.
She blinked and it barely hurt at all. Nothing a fistful of Toradol couldn't handle.
Caitlyn sat up, breathed out against the head rush until her vision cleared, then braced herself on the toilet and slowly climbed to her feet. She kept the lights off, feeling her way through the boxes of syringes and bottles of medicine until she had the right ones. Despite the doctor's warnings about using it too frequently, she'd shoot up with Imitrex again—couldn't risk the migraine returning.
Not now, not when she had work to do.
She used the auto-injector, the pain of the needle in her thigh was nothing compared to the remnants of the headache. Or the thought that this might be her last case for the Bureau. If the headaches persisted like this, there was no way she could remain on active duty or carry a gun. She winced and turned on the cold water. The sound of rushing water was soothing, a happy sound, bringing with it a quick flash of memory: her father and her standing at the edge of a river, his arms around her, guiding her fishing rod as she cast.
A little water splashed on her face, mouthwash rinsed and spit, and the nausea was still under control, so she swallowed a few Toradol. They would give her an ulcer, burn a hole in her stomach eventually if she didn't take them with food, but the thought of anything to eat made her break out in a cold sweat.
She focused on the Hopewell case again before the nausea had a chance to grow. One thing was for sure, whoever wanted Diamontes erased from the known record had money. Lots of it. Because the only person with access to the files and the security clearance necessary to make them vanish was Jack Logan.
And Jack Logan worshiped two things and two things only: money and power.
Her fingers were still shaking, felt numb as she stripped free of her sweat-soaked clothes. She held onto the sink for balance, kicking off her leather flats and struggling out of her khaki slacks, sleeveless cotton sweater and underwear. Barefoot and naked, she crossed the hall into her bedroom and fell into her bed, pulling the covers tight over her, blocking out the world.
Sarah Durandt, her face filled with pain and yearning, was the last thing Caitlyn saw before she finally escaped into sleep.
CHAPTER 11
Wednesday June 19, 2007: Snakehead Mountain
JD was hot, sweaty and totally starving by the time they reached the look out spot at the top of the Lower Falls. The flat viewing area was empty of any cars, all the day-tourists long gone. They were missing the best part, JD thought. Being here, the earth beneath his feet trembling from the force of the water roaring below him, the sun setting over the mountains beside them, streaking the sky red and gold, and best of all, a beautiful girl at his side.
Julia set up the tripod for her father's high-powered digital camera while he used his inexpensive hand-held video camera to film her. As she unfolded a towel and set out napkins, he unpacked the food, sneaking a chicken leg to munch on.
"Where was the last sighting?" she asked.
He wiped his greasy fingers on his jeans and unfolded his map. They'd tried to record every sighting of the mysterious lights over the past month, and now that school was out, they finally had the chance to record the phenomena firsthand. "My dad saw them last night. At the dam and along the east side of the reservoir. Said he saw them at 9:45 and again about a hour later."
"And two nights before was when Mrs. Patterson saw them along the ridgeline, just below here."
"Right. And we have that bus of church kids from Merrill who e-mailed me that they saw some around the Devil's Elbow as well, beside the Upper Falls, but no one can give me any specifics, so I'm not sure if we should count those."
He looked up from his spot on the ground. God, he loved the way she pursed her lips together, a small dimple digging into her chin when she really thought hard about something. Julia was the only person who took his project seriously. Even his dad, who had actually seen the lights, didn't think they were worth his spending his summer trying to investigate them, much less create a documentary out of the mysterious phenomenon.
Julia sat cross-legged in front of him. How the heck did she do that? One second she was standing, then the next she seemed to float through space, her legs effortlessly folding beneath her. Her knee brushed his as she leaned across him for a piece of chicken. She tore into it, her teeth bared, totally unladylike and absolutely mesmerizing.
"I think," she said, swiping her mouth with a napkin, "we should try to get one of those timers or motion sensors. We can't keep spending all our time watching when the sightings are coming from all over."
Sure he could—if it meant spending long summer nights huddled at the camera beside Julia. But she had a point. So far they'd tried for hours on end to spot the mystery lights without success. His documentary was doomed if they couldn't get actual footage.
"Seems like we're always one step behind," he said. He munched on another piece of chicken as he scrutinized the map of sightings. "They're all along this side of the gorge, but there just aren't any good vantage points. Maybe tomorrow we should go over to the other side? Up to the Devil's Elbow, there's a scenic overlook there."
Julia laid flat on her back, staring up at Snakehead's summit above and to the north of them. "It would take all day to get up there on our bikes." She scrunched her face in thought and JD wanted nothing more than to smooth his fingers across her skin, erase all the frown lines. "Why don't we camp out at the old caretaker's cabin down by the dam?"
"All the fog gathers down there below the dam, but we might see something. And there have been more sightings near the dam than anywhere else." He thought about it, liking her idea. "Maybe the dam is the target."
JD lost himself momentarily in the fantasy: him stopping a band of wild-eyed terrorists, the gleam of pride in his father's eyes, the whole town cheering as they gave him a medal, Julia at his side.
"More likely it's kids skinny-dipping in the reservoir." Julia sprang to her feet, brushing stray strands of grass from her shorts. "It's getting dark, I'll take the first shift."
JD couldn't argue as he watched her lean over, focused on the camera's viewfinder. Darkness was gathering around them, but the night was warm, the stars bright. They both had headlights on their bikes and midnight curfews, and the ride down the mountain road was a lot easier than the ride up. Besides, no one ever drove the Rattlesnake Pike at night—the dirt road was tricky enough in the daytime.
Until then, it was just him, Julia, and the mountain. A smile stretched his face, accompanied by a warm stirring below his waist. So far he hadn't even found the courage to kiss Julia. She had class, he had to work his way up to it, do it right. That was okay. He had all summer.
"Hey!" Her voice rang out through the night clearer than a church bell. "I think I see them!"
It was dark by the time Sarah stopped. She didn't mind hiking at night, not with the full moon to guide her. But her body rebelled, near to collapse. She'd marched up the mountain like a zombie, stopping neither for food or drink or rest. She looked around, recognized where her feet had unerringly led her to.
The top of Snakebelly. The first time she'd taken Sam camping, she had brought him here. The first time they had made love was here, beneath the shimmering night sky filled with the cascading stars of the Milky Way. She remembered how frightened Sam had been when she had jumped off the cliff, rappelled down into the gorge. His face had been whiter than snow, covered with sweat as he forced himself to peer over the edge and look below. That had taken him more courage than she had understood at the time—she'd played along the cliffs of this mountain since she was a child, had never known any fear, or met anyone who was afraid of heights. But then, Sam wasn't like anyone she had ever known before.
When she realized what it had cost him to watch her blissfully teeter on the edge of the crevasse, ropes or no ropes, she discovered she had found someone who meant more to her than her first love, the mountain. She had hung up her climbing gear, using it only when needed during search and rescue missions.
Below this granite ledge was Snakebelly, the crevasse where the last body found on Snakehead had been found. Lily Waverly, Hal's wife.
Snakebelly was where the river deposited all of its dead, although it often sequestered them for a time, sometimes years, decades, or even centuries. When Sarah was ten, hunters had found the remains of what researchers from the Smithsonian eventually decided were two Native Americans dating from the twelfth century.
A man and a woman. Suicide pact? the researchers had argued. Native Romeo and Juliet? Or the real life inspiration for the Iroquiois myth of Ahweyoh and the Thundergod she had sacrificed her life for?
Sarah had told Sam about the ancient bones the first night they had spent up here. A crisp fall night, it was just cold enough to require a fire and someone's arms around you to keep warm.
Even Sam had to admit that this wind-scoured ledge with its canopy of trees and front row seat to the heavens was one of the most romantic places on earth. As long as you didn't look down.
The sound of the water had been bright and cheerful, splashing in the gorge below, a playful accompaniment to their mutual exploration. They were in love already—even though they had only known each other a few weeks—but neither was quite ready to admit it. Yet.
"So tell me about this Indian princess," Sam had asked after he put his guitar aside.
Sarah leaned back into his arms, enjoying it as his fingers strummed the skin inside her wrist as if coaxing a melody from his guitar.
"You sure you want to hear? Most versions don't have a happy ending."
"Maybe I'll write a song about her. Make up a happy ending."
"She wasn't a princess. Just a young girl who lived among the river people. But she refused to marry, despite her family's commands. Instead Ahweyoh took a lover. He was a stranger, frightening to Ahweyoh's people with his broad shoulders and booming voice that stirred ancient memories of the wars between the gods and the evil ones. They wanted no part of those ancient legends, even though the stories were their legacy, ran in their blood. No, all they wanted was peace and quiet, to live beside their river, catch the fish it provided, grow their crops."
"Hah," Sam had said with a chuckle. "I'll bet that didn't stop two horny kids in love."
Sarah nudged him with her elbow and continued, "Shunned by the river people for her affair, Ahweyoh was exiled. She packed her canoe and traveled farther than any of her people had ever journeyed before. A great fog enveloped her, storm winds buffeted her, but she followed the current and remained true to her course. When the clouds lifted, He-noh, her lover was waiting. He revealed his true form to her—he was a Thundergod. He invited her to marry him and join him in his house in the clouds."
"And they lived happily ever after," Sam put in, nuzzling her neck as his hands began to roam beneath her shirt.
"Not so fast, Music Man. He-noh told Ahweyoh of an ancient prophecy. An evil serpent demon would attack and kill the river people. She renounced immortality to journey back to her homeland and warn them.
"They scoffed and laughed, assuming the god had cast her aside once he was finished with her. Then the water demon attacked. Ahweyoh called upon her Thundergod's help and together they battled the serpent. She paddled her canoe on the river, serving as a diversion, while He-noh lanced a thunderbolt through the demon's eye."
Sam squirmed, tightening his arms around her, and Sarah knew that he was now fully engaged in her story. Typical guy—didn't care until there was blood and guts and gore.
"The writhing serpent's body carved out the gorge, re-routing the once peaceful river into a treacherous length of rapids and waterfalls. As the serpent coiled his body, ready to spring on Ahweyoh, the Thundergod emerged from the mist and severed its head from its body, flinging it to one side. Thus Snakehead mountain was born. The snake's body formed the other mountains to the east and south."
Sarah had spread her arms wide, indicating the sinuous curves of the mountains hidden in the darkness. Sam ducked beneath her arm, rolling her onto her back as he kissed her thoroughly. "See, a happy ending," he said when he came up for air.
Sarah had let it go at that, releasing herself to Sam's passion. But she knew the truth: most of the legends had no happy ending for either of the lovers.
The ancient myth played through Sarah's mind now as she spread out her tarp and drank some water. Her mouth was parched, her muscles shaking as she sat on the ledge, looking south over the gorge. Hopewell's lights were out of sight, beyond a fold in the mountain ridge and too far to the west of where she sat.
Her only companions were an owl whose hunting silhouette flitted across the moon, the granite boulders lining the ledge, a few hardy oak and hemlock trees that dared to bury roots into the rock face, and the legend of a dead Iroquois maiden.
Like many heroes, Ahweyoh had not been well-received after saving her people's lives. Their village, their homes were destroyed and they blamed her. After all, their lives had been peaceful before she had involved them in the battles between gods and monsters.
Caught between two worlds, unable to return to her lover after refusing the gods' gift of immortality, Ahweyoh placed all her hope in one thing: her love for He-noh.
Late one night, under a full moon, she paddled her canoe through the rapids that now churned her once peaceful river. Then she calmly set her paddle aside, raising her arms out as the powerful current carried her over the Upper Falls. She called out her lover's name, certain he would descend from the mists and carry her to safety. There, in the mist that came nightly to the mountain, they could live forever, between the cloud-world of the gods and the rocks and soil of the mortals.
Sarah stretched out, allowing the tendrils of fog that spread out from the forest behind her to engulf her, wishing they were as warm and solid as Sam's arms had been. The moon winked in and out. The owl called out in victory, a whoosh of wings humming through the air over the gorge. Her body went still, the hard earth and cool night air disappearing into the mist. As if she were leaving her body behind, entering the in-between world, the limbo that was the only place where Ahweyoh and He-noh could be together.
There were several versions of the legend. One ended with the two lovers together, their spirits destined for immortality, coming to life nightly through the mountain mists even though their bodies died a mortal death, crushed by the rocks below the falls. That one emphasized the Thundergod's sacrifice of his own immortality to be with his one true love.
Another ended with the Thundergod being trapped by his brother gods before he could reach Ahweyoh. They captured him, chained him to the clouds, refusing to allow him to steal away to Earth, leaving them without his strength and protection. His cries echoing through the gorge, deafening all creatures who heard him, he watched in horror as Ahweyoh and her canoe flew through the air only to crash to earth again, battered and beaten by the rapids and rocks.
A shiver ran through Sarah's body, reminding her that she was only human. She blinked, stretched and reached for her pack. She wouldn't bother with a fire, not tonight. Instead she munched on a Powerbar and wrapped herself in her fleece jacket.
While she taught all the versions of the ancient legend to her students, Sarah much preferred the third ending. Had ever since she'd first heard it as a little girl.
In this one, the gods recognized Ahweyoh's courage in helping them defeat the serpent demon. When she launched herself off the Upper falls, the mist parted and a shaft of moonlight shimmered through the night, creating a path back up to the cloud world and her Thundergod. He waited for her on the moonbeam, reaching a hand out to catch her when she faltered and would fall.
And of course, together they lived happily ever after.
&nbs
p; Sarah wadded up the wrapper from her makeshift dinner and shoved it back into her pack. She rolled herself up in her tarp so that she wouldn't wake up covered with dew and closed her eyes on the mystical world swirling around her.
She was too old to believe in fairytales. Especially ones with happy endings.
CHAPTER 12
Wednesday, June 19, 2007: St. Doriat, Canada
"Daddy, don't go. I don't want you to go."
Sam watched as Josh blinked furiously, fighting back his tears. In two years the kid had had a lot of practice and had also quickly discovered how fruitless tears were. But that look on his face, Josh trying so hard to be so very brave, was about enough to rip Sam's heart to pieces.
He squatted down to place himself level with the five-year-old. Josh had taken a growth spurt over the spring and was now all lanky elbows and knees as Sam pulled him into a bear hug. He inhaled the fragrance of Johnson's shampoo. No more tears. Josh didn't really need the baby shampoo, not now that he took showers and washed his own hair, but it reminded Sam of Sarah, of the good days when Josh was little, when they were together.
Sam sniffed, struggling to keep his own composure. No more tears. Josh wriggled within his grasp. "Daddy, you're squeezing me."
"Oh am I?" Sam asked as he stood up, pulling Josh with him so that the boy's feet were dangling above the ground. "How's this then?" He raised Josh up, planted raspberry kisses on the bare skin above his pajama bottoms, was rewarded with an instant armful of giggling little boy. He bounced Josh onto his bed, allowed Josh to flip him over and pin him down for a full count.
"I win!" Josh cried out. He released his father. Sam sat beside him on the bed.
"You sure do, champ," Sam said as he nestled Josh into the pillows and drew the blankets up over him. He planted a kiss on Josh's forehead. "Now, remember everything we talked about. And you be good for Mrs. Beaucouers."