The Dead Chill

by Linda Berry

  The wolf retreated from the porch, and finally, Tegan shut the door. He removed his outer garments and his knowing fingers hung them on pegs.

  As he faced the light, Selena saw the boy’s features clearly. Tegan looked about eight or nine. He had a slender frame and straight black hair that brushed his shoulders. He had a sensitive face and vacant sable brown eyes. Yet he faced Selena with open curiosity, apparently sizing her up using his own unique means of perception.

  “Let’s have some hot tea and home-baked bread,” Tommy said, his tone artificially light.

  “I’ve never seen a wolf up close before,” Selena said, attempting to make conversation when she and the boy were seated at the well-scrubbed oak table. She had a clear view of Tommy in the kitchen pouring hot water from a steaming kettle into mugs. Like a shadow passing, Elahan disappeared down a darkened hallway and a wedge of light appeared behind a door. “I certainly never expected to see one as a pet,” Selena continued, pulling her gaze back to the boy.

  “Lelou isn’t a pet. He’s my spirit guide. He could have been any animal he wanted to be, but he chose to be a wolf. So he could protect me.” Seated at her elbow, Tegan spoke with conviction and a level of maturity that was unusual for a child. His absolute belief in a spirit world resonated with Selena. She, too, believed in a mystical world of energy and vibration. She believed thoughts were magnetic, attracting and shaping molecular matter into everyday experiences.

  “Lelou was checking you out,” Tegan said. “Making sure you wouldn’t hurt me. But I already knew you were okay. I could tell from the your smell.”

  “Really? How do I smell?”

  “Like a garden.” He smiled shyly. “And pancakes. And your hair smells like peppermint.”

  Clearly, the boy had heightened olfactory perception. People with disabilities often compensated for one sensory loss by strengthening others. “I had pancakes for breakfast at Granger’s ranch, and my shampoo has peppermint in it. You have a very good sense of smell.”

  “You have no idea,” Tommy said, walking back into the room with a laden tray. After placing a dish of butter, a bowl of berry preserves, and a loaf of homemade bread on the table, he distributed three steaming mugs of tea. Gratefully, Selena lifted her cup and sipped. The tea was delicate and delicious, with a hint of cardamom and cloves. She took another sip. Lemongrass. Something else, mysterious and spicy, immediately warmed her.

  “Sometimes I think Tegan is part wolf.” Tommy took a seat across the table and carved the loaf into thick slices. “He can identify people by their scent before they open their mouths. He can also sense the shape and distance of objects around him, and sense color.”

  She smiled, thinking Tommy was joking, but his face was serious.

  He liberally spread butter and berry preserves on a slice of bread, placed it on a plate, and handed it to Selena. He did the same for Tegan. The butter melted into the moist bread, which was still warm from the oven, and the aroma made her mouth water. Sampling a bite, she tasted pecans, honey and vanilla. An accomplished cook and baker herself, Selena was deeply impressed by the texture and flavor of the bread.

  “What color is Selena’s hair?” Tommy asked.

  Tegan was busy chewing. He swallowed and lifted his face eyes to hers. “Can I touch your hair?”

  “Sure.”

  The boy wiped his hands on a napkin then he gently brushed Selena’s straight hair from the crown of her head to her shoulder blades. He fingered a lock like a connoisseur, and smiled. “It’s soft. Doesn’t have much color. Your eyes don’t either. You have very blonde hair and white skin.”

  Selena’s mouth fell open.

  “You’re right, Son.” A flicker of amusement shone in Tommy’s eyes. “Selena’s hair is the color of white corn, and her eyes are light green, like celery.”

  “I sense you’re really pretty,” the boy said.

  “Thank you, Tegan.”

  “Yes, very pretty,” Tommy added with a touch of humor.

  “I don’t meet many people with blonde hair,” Tegan confessed.

  Tommy addressed Selena’s curious expression. “Tegan goes to school here in the village, with other Indian kids.”

  “Dad and Nana don’t like me to leave the village.” Tegan’s face shadowed and he added with a touch of defiance, “They worry. But I can take care of myself.”

  “You bet we worry. He likes to roam around in the woods with Lelou, sometimes disappearing for hours. We don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”

  “Lelou will protect me.”

  “Some people don’t like wolves. They shoot them, even though it’s illegal.” Tommy’s voice was low and tense. “What would you do if something happened to Lelou and you were miles from home? A small boy, alone.”

  Tegan’s mouth pinched. “I’m not small. I’m nine. I could smell my way home.”

  “Possibly. But that’s not a risk we want you to take. Nikah was murdered. Her killer is still out there.” Tommy’s voice caught and profound sorrow softened his expression. He stared into his son’s unseeing eyes, and a silent communication seemed to pass between them.

  A spasm of grief passed over Tegan’s face. His eyes showed signs of recent shock, wide and unblinking. Then his face went blank, but not before Selena saw a glint of another emotion. Fear. And he was trying to hide it.

  Tommy saw it, too. Worry creasing his brow, he leaned forward and watched Tegan’s expression closely. “I know you’re upset about Nikah, Son. We all are. But if you know something…”

  Tegan sat a little lower in his chair.

  “Did you smell something? Hear something?”

  The boy lowered his head, letting his hair veil his face.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Son?”

  “Leave him be,” came a raspy voice from the hallway. The old woman stood there leaning on a cane with both veined hands, her rounded spine thrusting her upper body forward. Her head craned sideways and her dark eyes peered at Tommy. “He’s in shock. He will talk when he is ready.” She said something in a language Selena had never heard before. Then she turned to the boy. “Eat. And then finish your chores.”

  Tommy sighed. His shoulders drooped as if with sudden fatigue but he said nothing to contradict Elahan. Apparently, she held sway in the household. The old woman scurried into the kitchen and Selena heard the clinking of pots and pans. Despite her misshapen back, Elahan moved quickly, and her mental faculty seemed fully intact. Selena made a note to talk to Sidney. She was certain the boy knew something about Nikah’s murder.

  “Elahan was speaking Chinook,” Tommy explained.

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It was a common language, derived from many languages, that was used here in the Pacific Northwest in the 1800s. It allowed different tribes, travelers, and traders to do business with each other. Chinook is being revived and taught on reservations to young people. Elahan teaches it here at our school.”

  “Mitlite tenas, Selena,” Tegan said, then translated: “Stay a while, Selena. You are welcome here.”

  “Thank you, Tegan.”

  Tommy changed the subject, focusing his attention on Selena. “So, you and Granger…are…”

  Tegan swiveled his head toward her, face suddenly alert, as though all senses were open and picking up signals.

  “Friends,” she finished for him. “Granger works with my sister, Police Chief Becker.” Selena kept her tone neutral. “We hang out. Have an occasional drink together.” A feeling of tenderness warmed Selena when she thought of Granger, and she recalled how much she had wanted to kiss him on the bridge. “I hope he’s okay. It’s so cold out there.”

  “Granger’s tough,” Tommy said with a reassuring smile. “A former Marine. A little snow is nothing.”

  With the gruesome discovery of the murdered girl, emotional exhaustion was setting in. Selena longed to be home, curled up on her couch in her sweats with her four cats. And Granger. His calm, steady presence had been an anchor during
the turmoil of the last month. She missed his company profoundly, and his undemanding affection. She glanced at the door, willing him and her sister to walk in. “Granger and I are good friends,” she repeated, so softly it was little more than a whisper.

  “Granger is more than your friend,” Tegan said. “He’s your boyfriend. Your body warmed up when you were thinking of him.”

  Selena’s mouth opened. Tegan had picked up her emotional vibrations as though her thoughts were a tuning fork.

  “Tegan, remember what I told you,” Tommy said, casting Selena an apologetic glance. “Certain feelings you pick up from people are private. You need to turn off your sonar. No emotional eavesdropping.”

  Selena was struck by the gentle tone of Tommy’s voice and this insight into his son’s unique ability.

  “I’m sorry, Selena,” Tegan said, a smile tugging up one corner of his mouth.

  “That’s okay,” she said, though she guessed the boy knew exactly what he was doing. Childish mischievousness. She felt a deepening fondness for this boy, who appeared to have an overly sheltered life, and yearned for more freedom. Like most boys, Tegan had a rebellious streak, but he also possessed a marked lack of fear, which could put him in real danger. Tommy was justified in feeling concern. The wolf wasn’t invincible, and the boy seemed to put too much trust in the animal. “How is it that Lelou came into your life, Tegan? Did you find him as a puppy?”

  “No. He found me. Three years ago, when I was six.” Tegan brushed his hair back from his face. His eyes took on a faraway shine as he retreated into memory. “I was fishing from our dock on the lake. A thunderstorm rolled in. Fast. It rained so hard I got soaked in seconds. Thunder boomed right above me. Like a bomb exploding. The whole sky lit up with electricity. Then a bolt of lightning hit me. That’s the last thing I remember. Dad told me later my fishing pole acted as a lightning rod.”

  Selena caught her breath in surprise.

  “I was working in the barn,” Tommy said. “I heard a wolf howling like it was dying. I ran out and saw Lelou standing over Tegan. Then he disappeared. At first, I thought he’d attacked Tegan. His clothes were shredded. But when I got right up to him, I saw the burns, and knew it had been lightning.”

  “The lightning shredded his clothes?”

  “Yeah. And blew off his shoes.”

  “I had no idea it was so powerful.”

  “Very powerful. Tegan was airlifted to Portland. It’s a wonder he survived.” Tommy gazed at his son with unwavering devotion. Again, some invisible communication passed between them.

  She sensed the strong tie that bound them. “The wolf saved his life.”

  Tommy nodded. “A miracle he showed up.”

  “The lightning burned me inside and out.” Tegan lifted the front of his sweater and revealed what looked like feathery, fern-shaped tattoos, faded pink, branching out over his thin chest. “The burns left these scars. They’re on my arms and back, too.”

  Selena felt a surge of sympathy. She couldn’t imagine the suffering Tegan endured. Though horrified, she couldn’t deny that the delicate scars were beautiful, as though etched by a gifted botanical artist. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “These kinds of burns are common with lightning victims,” Tommy said. “They’re called Lichtenberg figures. Named after a German physicist who studied branching electric discharges back in 1777.”

  Selena was fascinated.

  “When I came home from the hospital,” Tegan continued, “I was blind. I couldn’t walk. I hurt all over. It took a long time to get better. The doctors said the lightning changed my brain.”

  “In what way?” she asked.

  “My new world was total darkness but I started noticing stuff right off. I could hear and smell things out in the yard. I could smell Nana and Dad when they came into the room. After a while, I started hearing and smelling things further off in the woods, and out on the lake. I could tell when the weather changed. I could smell when Lelou came into the yard. Every night, he slept under my window. When I was well enough to hobble around and sit on the porch, Lelou came and sat with me.”

  “Strange for a wild animal to adopt a human,” Selena said. “And to be so loyal.”

  “Lelou is no common wolf.” Tommy returned her gaze, unblinking. “He gave my son hope, and kept him going when he was in a world of pain.”

  Tegan chewed the last bite of his bread and jam and said out of the side of his mouth, “Lelou’s been my best friend ever since.”

  “That’s an amazing story. You went through a terrible time.” Feeling a wave of tenderness for the sensitive boy, she reached out and covered his hand with hers. “You’re very brave. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Me, too.” His shy smile returned. “I’m glad you’re my new friend. Sometime, you should come walk in the woods with Lelou and me.”

  “I would love to.” Selena leaned back in her seat, noticing that a deep sense of calm had come over her. The sharp edge of anxiety that continuously plagued her had receded. Her eyes met Tommy’s. “Thank you for the delicious meal.”

  Tommy gave her a knowing nod from across the table.

  She cradled her mug in her hands and sipped her tea. “What’s in your tea, Tommy?”

  He presented her with a distinctly mischievous grin. “Oh, this and that. A little bat’s wool, a dash of powdered toad, a pinch of rattlesnake venom.”

  Selena smiled, understanding where Tegan got his naughty streak. “In other words, it’s proprietary.”

  “Yep, you guessed it. I have to protect my family’s long held secrets. Especially from you.” He grinned. “I know you’re Selena of Selena’s Kitchen. I recognize you from your photo. I’ve been to your website many times.”

  Selena warmed with pleasure. The natural products and organic food business she started with her partner, Ann Howard, was growing in popularity. She and Ann produced all of the products themselves in a big renovated barn on Ann’s farm—herbal vinegar, flavored honey, scented candles. In addition to gaining hundreds of online subscribers this year, their products were being carried by a dozen shops in town. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  He nodded. “I’ve used several of your recipes. I buy your products at the market. You didn’t recognize your own honey. It’s in the tea.”

  She blinked. “My jalapeño honey! Of course. That’s the spicy heat I detected. But what’s the magic potion that makes me feel so relaxed?”

  He gave her a wicked smile.

  She smiled back, feeling mildly euphoric. It had been a long while since she felt this peaceful. “Are you a scientist? A chemist?”

  “Nothing that technical. I’m an herbalist, and a historian. I teach history at the high school, with an emphasis on Native American studies. The unadulterated version.”

  “Not pretty the way indigenous people were treated in the land of the free.”

  “No, it’s not.” He was quiet for a moment. “People need to know the truth, not the white-washed version, where the heroic white man fought off bloodthirsty savages. There are lots of aspects to our culture that people could learn from.”

  “I’d love to know more.”

  “I speak at the library sometimes. I’ll give you my itinerary.”

  “Deal.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THREE MEMBERS OF the search and rescue team were waiting in their truck when Sidney pulled up in the parking lot behind the station. The medical examiner and his assistant hurried out of the rear exit of the building. Dr. Linthrope climbed up front while Stewart Wong climbed into the back seat, or “the cage,” which was partitioned off from the front by a steel mesh barrier. They both wore thick jackets, knit caps, and snow boots.

  “Morning,” Sidney said.

  “Morning, Chief,” Linthrope replied pleasantly, placing his coffee cup in the holder.

  “Where’s the body?” Stewart asked in lieu of a greeting as he clicked his seat belt. A detail-oriented introvert, Stewart was a highly sk
illed forensic tech and assistant pathologist who wasted little time on extraneous conversation.

  “A Native-American woman was found in Whilamut Creek up by the old timber bridge,” Sidney said as she followed the red Fire and Rescue truck, which towed a trailer carrying four snowmobiles. “Looks like a homicide.”

  “Homicide?” The doctor raised his brows.

  She nodded. “Granger and Selena found the body.”

  Within the heated cab, the two men lapsed into silence, lost in thought, no doubt wondering how murder could have erupted in their small town again, so soon after the rampage of a serial killer a month ago. Sought out for its historical charm and stunning natural beauty, Garnerville had in recent years become a vacation destination town, and the constant flow of tourists was lifting the economy out of a decade-long decline. Art galleries, boutiques, and trendy coffee shops were replacing dusty antique shops and thrift stores. Murder did not bode well for a town that depended on tourist dollars. The pressure to find this new murderer, quickly, felt like a heavy weight on Sidney’s shoulders.

  Five miles out of town, she turned off the paved highway and the chained tires of the vehicle bumped over a rutted road that tunneled through the Sacamoosh forest. The wipers swiped the snow sifting down through overhead branches.

  “Some weather, huh?” Wong muttered. “Can’t believe this snow.”

  Sidney glanced at him in the mirror, surprised that he was making a stab at normal

  conversation. “It’s beautiful, but it sure hampers work.”

  Sitting next to her, Dr. Linthrope shifted in his seat. “And it’s damn cold. I feel it in my joints.”

  She cast him a sympathetic glance. He was spry for a man of seventy-one, but at his age the cold went bone deep.