The Dead Chill

by Linda Berry

Fortunately, Tucker spoke first. “That’s enough, Jenna. How about extending a little courtesy to Chief Becker?” The old man leveled a stern gaze at the younger woman, scolding her in a fatherly tone. “The chief is our guest. She’s only doing her job, and doing it well from what I can see. Nikah’s death needs to be avenged. By whatever means necessary.” His gaze swept the table, resting momentarily on each member’s face. “Everyone, and I mean everyone, will cooperate with these officers. Give them whatever help they need. Is that clear?”

  Jenna brooded, but she nodded.

  “Clear as rain,” Tommy said, looking somewhat chastened.

  Tucker directed his attention to Sidney. “If anyone here tries to stonewall you, Chief Becker, let me know. I’ll set them straight.”

  “We appreciate that,” Sidney said, relief shuddering through her. Tucker, the elder statesman of the village, was backing up her department. She wasn’t sure what Tucker meant when he said Nikah’s death needed to be avenged by whatever means necessary, but she didn’t like the sound of it. The sooner her department apprehended these assailants, the better.

  “Jenna, get Chief Becker the contact info she needs,” Tucker said, and added with a weary sigh, “I must excuse myself. I have other business to attend to. This meeting is adjourned. Thank you for coming, Chief Becker, Granger.”

  “Thank you for meeting with us.” Sidney made a show of placing several business cards on the table.

  Tucker took a card, shoved it into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt, and pushed himself away from the table. Chairs scraped backwards as the other members followed suit, each picking up a card.

  Tucker shrugged into his jacket and pulled on his hat, then he helped Elahan into her long black quilted coat. There was tenderness and respect in the way he met her gaze and offered his arm. Her expression softened and a smile touched her lips. A silent, intimate communication passed between them. They linked arms and walked out together.

  “Follow me into the office,” Jenna said coldly. “I’ll give you what you want.”

  “Granger, would you mind?” Sidney said.

  “Sure thing, Chief.”

  “Pass the contact info for the burglary victims to Amanda and Darnell,” Sidney added. “Those interviews are a priority. Tell them to get descriptions of everything stolen, and then get the list to Winnie. We’ll see if anything turns up at pawnshops. Tell them to work as partners today. As long as a killer is targeting this village, none of us operates solo.”

  “What about the two women?”

  “I’ll interview them myself.” In Oakland, Sidney had been trained to work with sexual assault victims. Deeply traumatized people needed to be treated with empathy and sensitivity. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in five.”

  Granger caught up with Jenna and River, who excluded him by speaking in their native language. Their rudeness lowered Sidney’s estimation of the young man considerably. Like mother, like son.

  Tommy was folding the table and chairs and stacking them against the wall. Sidney waited. He glanced her way.

  “Can I have a word?” Sidney asked.

  “Of course.” He leaned a folded chair against the wall and approached her.

  “Sometime today, I’d like to talk to Tegan, if he’s up to it.”

  “Hmmm.” His brow creased. “Tegan was very moody when he left for school this morning. Not sure he’ll talk to you. He’ll be home at 2:30. If you want to swing by at that time, we can play it by ear.”

  “We’ll make that work. Thanks.” She paused for a moment, then asked, “Why were you scolding Cadence last night after she spoke to Selena in the bathroom?”

  “Selena witnessed that, huh?” He huffed out a breath. “I was warning Cadence to keep quiet about the sexual assaults. We don’t want it to get into the press. We don’t want reporters casting a stigma on the men in the village. There’s already a perception in this country that Native American men are drunks. Uneducated. Abusers. That’s not how it is here. We’re decent citizens.” Tommy swallowed. “It was wrong of me. I’ll apologize to her.”

  “Do that. Encouraging folks to obstruct our investigation is a crime.”

  “It won’t happen again. Look, I apologize for being such a hard-ass. I think living in isolation here in the village makes it easy for some of us to make assumptions about the outside world. Especially Jenna. She had a rough life before she moved here last year. She married a white man after River left for college. He brutalized her. The white cops took his side most of the time. He never saw a day of jail time. Jenna had to escape while he was passed out drunk, with nothing but the clothes on her back.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that,” Sidney said, feeling a stab of pity for the woman. “That certainly explains her attitude.”

  “Her anger is a cover for fear. She hardly ever leaves the village. She’s terrified she’ll run into him.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “Small town south of here. Sweetwater.”

  “That’s not far.” She thought for a moment. “Could he be the Stalker?”

  “No. If he was, Jenna would be dead.”

  A chill touched Sidney’s spine. She was reminded of Selena’s best friend and business partner, Ann Howard, who’s drunkard of a husband beat her for years. He would have killed her, if she and her son had not killed him first. Sidney pulled a pen and notebook from her pocket and handed it to Tommy. “His name and address please.”

  “You are thorough, Chief Becker. I’ll give you that.” Tommy scribbled across the page and handed the notebook back to her.

  “One last thing. Tell me about Grisly Stokes.”

  “Grisly?” His faced pinched with dislike. “What do you want to know?”

  “What does he look like?”

  “Tall, lean build, ugly as sin.”

  “He’s white?”

  “Yeah, he’s white as you can get. A white nationalist. A survivalist. Mistrusts the government, the law. Hates minorities, especially Indians. Doesn’t like sharing these woods with us.”

  “Does he know these back woods as well as you do?”

  “Yeah. Maybe better.”

  “He ever come to the village?”

  “Yeah. He brings his hunting clients to the saloon on occasion. They sit there and drink and stare at us. Like we’re a freak show.”

  Creepy. “Granger and I are going to talk to him. Thanks for your time.” She turned to leave.

  “Chief Becker,” he said quietly.

  She faced him.

  “Grisly is dangerous. Be careful.”

  Sidney smiled, touched that he was showing concern. “Careful is my middle name.”

  His brown eyes softened and held hers for a moment. “If I can help in any way, let me know. I mean that sincerely.”

  “Appreciate it.” They shared a guarded smile, then Sidney walked out to the lobby looking for Granger. She wondered if Tommy’s change of heart signaled a bit of trust was growing between them. She suspected he was a smooth manipulator, a chameleon. Her trust would be hard won, as she was sure his would be.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  DRESSED IN YOGA clothes under her down jacket, Selena drove down Main Street and pulled to a stop at the only traffic light in town. She would have to rush back to her yoga studio to teach a class in forty-five minutes.

  Historical downtown, with its beautiful brick and stonework buildings, looked peaceful in the morning light. Despite the ice and snow, townsfolk were milling on the sidewalks holding take-out cups of coffee, chatting, strolling in and out of shops. Stores were displaying festive winter decorations with snowflakes stenciled on windows and evergreen wreaths on doors. Life was proceeding as usual with everyone oblivious to Nikah’s murder. After the press release went out to the local papers, an undercurrent of fear would creep through the county. Everyone had barely gotten back to normal since the arrest of the serial killer last month.

  Through the frosted window of the newly opened Art Studio, which had prev
iously been Moyer’s Tack and Feed for fifty years, Selena saw a circle of students standing in front of easels facing the instructor, David Kane, who was Sidney’s new lover. Selena was thrilled for her sister. No one here measured up to the handsome detective she left behind in California. When David, a widower, moved to town from San Francisco, sparks flew between them from the start.

  It astonished Selena to see how fast her sleepy town was changing, no longer ardently blue collar with farmers and ranchers making up the majority. Boutiques and trendy cafes were replacing dusty antique stores and greasy spoons. Urbanites wanting a slower lifestyle were moving in from the cities.

  The light changed to green and Selena stepped on the gas, craving a hazelnut latte. She parked in a slot and strolled into Lava Java, which was almost empty after the morning rush.

  Cadence was already parked at a quiet table in the back corner with her hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. She wore a grave expression but she gave Selena a friendly wave.

  Selena ordered a latte and two chocolate croissants, wove around a few tables, and handed Cadence one of the pastries.

  “Hmm. Still warm. I love these,” Cadence said with a sweet smile.

  “Me too. My hips, not so much.”

  Cadence pulled her warm pastry apart to reveal the gooey chocolate interior. She took a bite, chewed, and washed it down with coffee. Her fingers barely poked out of the sleeves of her oversized red sweater, giving her an almost waif-like appearance. It astonished Selena that this was the same screeching singer that dominated the stage at the saloon last night.

  “How are you doing?” Selena asked, chewing on her croissant.

  “Not good. I cried most of the night. I can’t believe Nikah’s gone. That someone killed her. It’s really scary. Like, who’s next?”

  Selena lost her taste for her pastry and lowered it to her plate. “I’m so sorry for what you’re going through.”

  Cadence presented her with a perceptive stare. “You’ve been through this, too, haven’t you? Losing someone close.”

  Selena nodded. “Two babies in three years. Miscarriages.”

  “That’s rough.” Cadence was quiet for a long moment. “Does it get easier?”

  “Yes,” Selena said softly, thinking of the upstairs nursery with the closed door that she never opened. After losing Alyssa six months into her second pregnancy, the grief was so thick she could barely breathe. There was a vacuum into which everything tumbled. A great, gaping black hole. Now, eighteen months later, the loss didn’t dominate every waking hour—until something jolted a memory—the peal of a child’s laughter carried on the wind...

  “That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Cadence said. “I knew you’d understand.”

  “You know something about Nikah’s murder?”

  “Maybe.” Cadence took a deep breath and blurted her words as though needing desperately to get them out. “We’ve had a stalker in the village for several months. I think he’s the killer.”

  “The police know out about the Stalker, Cadence. They found out last night.”

  Her eyes widened. “They know?”

  “Yes, but just the bare facts. They’re up at your village right now, questioning people. If you have something to add, you need to tell me.”

  Cadence stared into her coffee, her fingers fidgeting with her napkin.

  “Do you know the women who were attacked?” Selena asked.

  “Yes,” she said quietly, meeting her gaze. “One is a close friend. The same age as Nikah.”

  “The other?”

  “She wants to stay anonymous.”

  Selena thought she saw a flicker of terror in the young singer’s eyes. “Do you want to tell me about your close friend?”

  Cadence’s gaze fastened on Selena and seemed to draw courage from her sympathetic expression. “It happened about a month ago. My friend lives with her parents but they were gone for the weekend. Something woke her around 3:00 in the morning. When she opened her eyes, she saw a man standing in the doorway of her bedroom. He was shadowy, but she could make out some details from the nightlight in the hall. He wore gloves and a long shirt. He was naked below his shirt. He had a knife in one hand. The man blinded her with his flashlight and said he’d kill her if she made a sound.”

  A chill raced along Selena’s spine. “Terrifying.”

  The color drained from Cadence’s face. Her lips started trembling.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Give me a moment.”

  It dawned on Selena that Cadence was speaking of her own experience. The embarrassment and shame of such a personal violation had to be abhorrent and frightening. Talking about it in the third person somehow made it easier.

  “The man tied her hands behind her back and…” She paused, groping for the right words.

  “And forced himself on her,” Selena finished for her.

  Cadence nodded. “He strangled her to the point where she almost passed out. When he finished, he told her again that if she made a sound, he’d kill her.”

  Selena said nothing, just listened. She was almost overwhelmed with pity for the young woman. Her own terror resurfaced for a nauseating moment as she remembered her encounter in the woods with a killer.

  “The man started rummaging through her drawers and closet,” Cadence continued. “She heard him in the other rooms doing the same. After a long time, there was just silence in the house. My friend managed to free herself, grab her phone, and call her mom. Her folks were two hours away at the coast, but they called Tucker and he came over right away with his wife. They untied my friend and took her to their house. She was in shock. They had to tell her what to do as though she were a child. They had her take a hot bath and scrub herself. They did a healing treatment, burned sage, and chanted to drive away evil spirits. When her parents arrived, they all spoke in another room in hushed tones. It was decided that the whole village needed to know a woman got raped, but they instructed my friend not to tell anyone she was the victim. It would come to no good.”

  “No one thought to call the police?”

  Cadence’s shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch under her baggy sweater. “We don’t ever call the cops. For anything. Discrimination against Native Americans is the dirty secret no one talks about. Women in particular. We experience sexual assault more than any other ethnic group in the country. Ninety percent of the offenders are white. We rarely get justice in court.”

  Her head dropped until her ebony hair fell in a curtain over her face. After a long moment, she met Selena’s gaze. “I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if they reported the rape to the police. Maybe Nikah would still be alive.”

  “We don’t know what would’ve happened,” Selena said. “We don’t even know if her killer is the Stalker. Try not to torture yourself with those kinds of thoughts. Let the officers do their job. I trust them. If anyone can bring justice to Nikah, and your friend, it’s Chief Becker.”

  Cadence shuddered. “I pray that’s true.”

  “Is there anything your friend remembers about the Stalker’s appearance?”

  “He was tall, with an athletic build. And he had a peculiar smell.” She wrinkled her nose. “Like some kind of chemical, or building material. Kind of like what road work in the hot sun smells like.”

  “What about his voice?”

  “He disguised it. He kept it low and hoarse.”

  “This is very helpful, Cadence. Can I share it with Chief Becker?”

  “Yes.” She stared out the window at the people treading carefully on the sidewalk. A couple walked by laughing. A mother holding the hand of a child ducked into a gift shop. “Look at them. So carefree. So content. That used to be me. Now we all live in fear at the village.”

  Selena searched for words to reassure her, and hoped she wasn’t delivering false hope.

  “Things will return to normal. This man will be caught.”

  “I wish I shared your confidence.” Cadence met Selen
a’s eyes. “You probably know what people in the village are saying? That Lancer is the Stalker.”

  “Yes, I heard.”

  “I felt so sorry for him and Nikah. They heard all the gossip. They saw how people looked at them. They felt really isolated. Then came the final blow. The tribal council asked Lancer to move out of the village.”

  “That must have been difficult.”

  “Yeah, it was hard for Nikah. Her friends and neighbors thought her boyfriend was a pervert. It hurt her to see him go, but she also believed it was for the best. Lancer needed to get his drinking under control.”

  “He was abusive.”

  “That’s the rumor going around. But it’s not true. I would’ve known. Nikah would’ve told me. Yes, he did hit her once. But she hit him first. On the forehead with a frying pan. I think he struck out in self-defense. Lancer was a sloppy drunk, not a mean drunk.”

  “His car was seen at her house a while back. The next day, someone ran into her at the General Store and saw a bruise on her neck. Do you know how she got it?”

  “No.” She looked troubled. “But it wasn’t Lancer.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I know him. Lancer is a gentle person. He and Nikah were like family. I’ve hugged him many times over the years. I know what his body feels like. I know how he smells. He isn’t the Stalker.”

  Inadvertently, Cadence had given herself away. Unless she had firsthand experience of what the Stalker felt like, smelled like, how could she know he wasn’t Lancer?

  At once, Cadence sat back and realized her mistake. Her hand flew to her mouth and her face flamed red. “Shit.”

  “It’s okay, Cadence,” Selena said softly. “I won’t repeat what you told me, except to Chief Becker. She’ll inform her three officers. I know them. They’ll respect your privacy.”

  “Thank you.” Her body caved in a little and she looked weak with relief. “I’m so glad the police are coming to help. This whole situation has gone from bad to worse.”

  “You are a credible witness for Lancer’s innocence. Why did the other woman say it was him?”

  “She didn’t. She described him the same way I did. She thought his eyes might be a light color, but she’s wasn’t sure. The certainty that he’s white started with someone in the tribal council.”