The Dead Chill

by Linda Berry

  Tegan followed the jingle of bits and the rich scent of horses and found Gracie idling next to Granger’s gelding, Taba, on the path that ran parallel to the roaring creek. They were saddled and packed and covered with buffalo hides for warmth.

  “Where are we going, Nana?”

  “Shhh. You must be quiet. Voices carry. We’ll talk when we get out of the village.”

  Tegan heard Elahan mount Taba and take the lead. He followed suit, putting a foot in the stirrup, hoisting himself upon Gracie’s back, and wrapping a hides around his shoulders.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  IT WAS STILL SNOWING when Sidney pulled into the Chetwoot driveway. The cabin door jerked open before they knocked and Tommy appeared, clearly agitated, wearing a panicked expression. “Tegan’s gone.” He furiously spewed words in his native language before reverting back to English. “What was she thinking? In this freezing weather!”

  “Slow down, Tommy,” Sidney said. “Take a breath. Can we come in?”

  He stepped aside and the three faced each other in the living room. He was dressed

  in teacher garb—khaki pants and a button-down blue shirt, his black hair tied at the nape of his neck.

  “Who took Tegan?” Sidney asked.

  “Elahan.” He paced in a small circle, one hand pressed to his forehead, as though warding off a migraine. “She left a note.” He snatched a sheet of notebook paper from the coffee table and handed it to her, groaning all the while that Elahan must be losing her mind.

  Sidney drowned him out and read the old woman’s small, gnarled handwriting.

  Tommy, it is not safe for us here. Do not come after us. We must do what needs to be done. Elahan

  “Why does she think it’s not safe? And what’s this about doing what needs to be done?”

  “I don’t know.” The muscles tightened on his face, sharpening his features. “Must have something to do with Nikah’s killer.”

  An ominous warning fluttered in Sidney’s stomach. “Is she thinking of going after someone?”

  Tommy appeared even more distraught, his breathing picking up momentum. “God, I hope not.”

  “Does she know who killed Nikah?”

  “I think Tegan knows,” he said with a crack in his voice that left his face unguarded. His fear was visible.

  “That’s why she thinks it isn’t safe,” Sidney said, an alarm blaring in her head. “The killer may think Tegan knows something. Elahan’s afraid the boy’s in danger.”

  “What does he know?” Tommy asked, clearly shaken. “Why didn’t they talk to me?”

  Sidney caught Granger’s angry expression. Her officer stood still for a moment and visibly collected himself before voicing what she had been thinking. “Why didn’t Elahan come to us? We could have kept Tegan safe. Gone after the perp.”

  “She doesn’t trust the police,” he said with a hard, unflinching look in his eyes. “I never thought she’d take off like this without alerting me.”

  Sidney asked, “Are they in a vehicle?”

  “They’re on horseback! Can you believe it? In this weather?” Tommy focused on Granger. “I’m sorry, but they took one of your horses.”

  Granger paled and opened his mouth, but Sidney spoke first, “When did you find this note?”

  “Twenty minutes ago. When I got home from teaching my class.”

  “How long have they been gone?”

  “Judging from how much snow filled the prints leading from the barn, I’d guess a couple hours.”

  “Which way are the tracks headed?” Granger asked.

  “Away from the village. Following a trail back into the woods to the northwest.”

  “Was the wolf with them?” Sidney asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Where do you think they went?” she asked.

  “No clue. There’s nothing out there but trees and snow.”

  “They must have a destination in mind,” Sidney said. “Think, Tommy. Any vacation cabins back in there? Ski sheds?”

  “I don’t know. Probably.” He paced again. “I can’t think straight.”

  “What provisions did they take?”

  “Cold weather gear. Some heavy animal furs. I checked the gun cabinet. They took a rifle and a handgun. She would’ve packed a good supply of food.”

  “Sounds sensible enough,” Granger said. “I can’t imagine Elahan putting Tegan in danger.”

  Tommy blew out his breath, shook his head as if to clear it. “Not intentionally.”

  “Does she know survival skills?” Granger asked.

  “Better than most. Those heavy furs would keep them warm in Siberia.” His posture stiffened. “But that’s not the point, is it?”

  Shooting Granger a wary look, Sidney agreed. “We need to find them.” If Elahan’s mission was to interact with a killer, a blind boy and an old woman were no match for someone who might be young and fit, and possibly an experienced woodsman. The threat of violence, of someone getting injured, or killed, pressed heavily upon her. They were losing precious time, while snow was filling the horse prints left behind. “I’ll call search and rescue. In the meantime, you should get a group of villagers together. You said you have good trackers here.”

  Tommy put up his hand. “Already done. Shadow and Coyote Burne are getting ready as we speak. They’ll be here shortly. I’m going with them.”

  “Taking snowmobiles?” Granger asked.

  “No. The forest is too dense. They’re bringing horses.”

  “Look, don’t let your guard down out there,” Sidney said. “There’s a dangerous killer running loose. You also need to watch out for that wolf. Grisly tried to get a license to shoot him.”

  “Seriously?” Tommy’s lips went white with rage. “That fucking psycho. If he hurts that wolf, or a hair on my family’s head, we’ll kill him. We’ll be well-armed.”

  Great. Angry men tearing through the forest ready to shoot at anything. Sidney could see any number of things going wrong with that scenario. Law enforcement should be managing these men.

  “I’ll go with them, Chief,” Granger offered, as though reading her thoughts. “My other horse is still in the barn.”

  Sidney mulled this over. Granger was levelheaded. As a Marine, he had combat and leadership experience. He knew how to keep his subordinates safe. He grew up in these hills and understood the terrain. On the other hand, she knew he was pushing himself hard. Neither she nor any of her officers had gotten much sleep, and the day had already been demanding. “Sure you’re up to it?”

  He gave her a convincing grin that brightened his neon blues. “Compared to being in the trenches in Afghanistan, this is a cinch.”

  Sidney felt like hugging him. Granger was a good man. A good cop. Tough. She nodded her consent. “Go with them. Take the satellite phone. Stay in touch. I want regular reports.”

  “Will do.”

  Tommy’s gaze swept over Granger’s uniform. “You need some appropriate clothing. Let’s pile on some cold weather gear. Follow me out back to the mud room.”

  The two men left the room and Sidney migrated to the fireplace where a fire had been reduced to crackling red embers. While warming her back she called Captain Jack Harrison at the Sheriff’s department.

  “What’s up, Chief?” Harrison said, skipping a greeting and getting straight to business. A call from Sidney meant an emergency. When you’re in the job of saving lives and property, every second counts.

  “We got an old Indian woman and a boy on horseback out in the back country. They’ve been gone about two hours.”

  “Deliberate, or lost?”

  “Deliberate. They have food and warm clothing. We have reason to believe they’re out hunting a dead woman’s killer. We need to find them before all hell breaks loose.”

  “A boy and an old women going after a killer?” He whistled. “A dangerous game. You talking about Elahan Chetwoot?”

  “Yes. And her great grandson.”

  “Sounds like I could be put
ting my men into the middle of a shootout.”

  “If we find them fast enough, we could avoid violence.”

  “Where’s she headed?”

  “Northwest. Away from the village.”

  “Nothing but horses can get back in there.”

  “A search party is leaving from the village shortly. Granger is going with them.”

  “They’ll make better progress than we could. By the time we got horses saddled and trailered out there, it’d be past nightfall. It’s snowing. We wouldn’t be able to see shit.” He kept his voice within the range of reasonable tones, but she sensed an underlying tension. “We’d be riding blind, looking for a needle in a haystack.” She heard him sigh. “I’ve had several encounters with Elahan over the years. That old woman is tough as nails. And wily. She could outwit a fox, and she can certainly outwit a search party. If she doesn’t want to be found, they won’t find her.”

  Sidney said nothing, digesting his words.

  “The storm’s passing tonight,” he continued. “Tomorrow we’ll have clear skies and good visibility. We can get a plane out. We’ll see more from the air than we could on the ground. If Elahan doesn’t return home tonight, we’ll head out at daybreak.”

  “Sounds sensible, Jack.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  “Sure thing. Talk in the morning.” She disconnected, anxious for the search party from the village to get moving.

  The sound of boots hitting the front porch drew her attention to the window. Three saddled quarter horses stood in the driveway, two with rifles in scabbards. She opened the door to the Burne twins who had the hoods of their parkas pulled over their heads. They were surprisingly young, maybe late teens, with burnished skin, and curiously light brown eyes. They had a sense of urgency about them and refused to come in. The taller of the two hurriedly introduced himself as Coyote, and his sister as Shadow. “Where’s Tommy? We need to cut out.”

  “We’re here.” Granger and Tommy trudged around the corner of the cabin, bundled in snow gear, Granger leading a saddled chestnut bay. He and Tommy both carried rifles. As the four mounted, their posture and expressions communicated a unified sense of purpose.

  “Be safe,” she called out.

  Granger shot her a little salute.

  The sky had darkened and Sidney’s uneasiness intensified. She didn’t feel completely confident that the Burne twins had the experience to find their way through the wilderness. All familiar landmarks had vanished under shifting dunes of white. She hoped they’d prove her wrong. The plodding hoofs, jingling bits, and murmur of voices faded as they headed out into the snow-muffled afternoon.

  ***

  The search party threaded its way through a maze of trees, their bodies thickly dusted with snow. Granger shifted in his saddle, feeling an urgency to close the gap between themselves and the old woman and boy. They moved cautiously, allowing the animals to feel their way over uneven ground. Low hanging clouds and mist blocked the view of the lake, his main point of reference. He pulled his compass from a pocket and hung it from his saddle horn. They steadily veered northeast with the twins in the lead and Tommy pulling up the rear.

  They came to a spur of woodland spilling down the slopes of Beartooth Peak, a bare granite pinnacle jutting high above the tree line. The single file horse tracks they followed moved steadily forward while the paw prints of the wolf zigzagged, as though he was scouting, sniffing out danger. The tracks led to Beartooth Creek, a fast-moving ribbon of water outlined in silver against the blackened woods. As soon as they hit the creek trail, he heard a groan from Coyote, echoed by Shadow. Coyote dismounted and crouched over something on the ground.

  “What is it?” Tommy called out, his voice edgy. He and Granger nudged their horses closer and gazed at the disruption in the virgin snow. Coyote was brushing the lighter flakes from deeper, frozen tracks with his gloved hand.

  “Fuck,” Tommy said.

  Dread tightened Granger’s gut. The shod horse tracks of another rider had come up to the trail from the creek and were following the two riders and the wolf.

  “Recognize those tracks?” Granger asked.

  “I recognize the shoes. The farrier is Kevin Chutes. White man. Puts an identifying diamond mark on each shoe. No one at the village uses him…” his voice faded as he caught Tommy’s intense stare.

  “But you know someone who does.”

  “Yeah.” Coyote’s jaw tightened. “Grisly Stokes. He has a big, gray Morgan.”

  Granger’s adrenalin jumped. “So, you think this is Grisly?”

  Coyote’s eyes flashed with animosity. “Possible.”

  “How far ahead is he?” Tommy asked. Despite the cold, sweat had broken out on his upper lip.

  “At least an hour. See how far apart the prints are?” Coyote said. “This rider is moving at a good ambling gait.”

  “We need to catch him,” Tommy said.

  “Can’t go too much faster,” Coyote said. “Could be dangerous for the horses. Might be ruts, gopher holes under this snow. Could cripple a horse in a second.”

  “Let’s match his stride,” Granger suggested.

  In answer, Coyote mounted smoothly, pressed his heels into the sides of his black spotted appaloosa, and got back in lead position matching the ambling gait.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  MOOLOCK HAD ARRIVED at the agreed meeting place and had everything ready well in advance. He and Shantie were coated in white when he spotted the wolf and the two horses emerging out of the misty creek like phantoms, seeming to glide over the snowdrifts like canoes on a lake. Dusk was settling, adding a shade of charcoal gray to the colorless landscape. He needed to get them to warm shelter right away. He moved out of the cover of towering trees and lifted a hand in greeting. “Kloshe sun.”

  Elahan did the same. “Kloshe sun.”

  They wasted no more time on small talk. Taba and Gracie fell into line behind Shantie. Moolock led them back through the shadowy woods, his Maglite carving a pathway until he reached the sheared face of a granite cliff that loomed overhead like a monolith. He dismounted and helped the old woman and boy. Wrapped in buffalo hides covered in snow, with only their eyes visible above their scarves, they looked like prehistoric creatures, half human, half beast.

  With some effort, Moolock slid a makeshift door that leaned heavily against the rock cliff to one side. A jagged, vertical crevice in the granite was revealed, large enough for a horse to shimmy through. He had built the wooden frame during the summer and recently covered it with evergreen boughs to blend in with the surroundings. Brandishing a flashlight, Elahan and Taba entered first, followed by the boy and Gracie, then the wolf. Moolock slapped Shantie on her flank and she entered last.

  Instead of following, Moolock grabbed a snow shovel and a wide broom made of cedar boughs and ventured back down the trail to the creek. Walking backwards, he remolded the snow, wiping away horse tracks, and brushing the surface until it appeared smooth. Effectively, the three had just vanished without a trace. He positioned the heavy door back in place, squeezed through, and let it slam against the wall.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  SIDNEY HAD JUST gotten into the Yukon when static crackled over the radio followed by the urgent voice of her dispatcher. “Hey, Chief.”

  “Yeah, Jesse?”

  “There’s a big structural fire on the east side of Nenámooks Lake. A game warden by the name of Sander Vance called it in. Property owned by Grisly Stokes. Fire department’s just arrived. The address is…”

  “I know where it is,” she cut in.

  “Looks like there’s a casualty.”

  Her breath stopped. “Who?”

  “Don’t have that info, ma’am.”

  “I’m ten minutes away. Tell Amanda and Darnell to meet me out there. Contact Dr. Linthrope and Stewart Wong. They’ll need to remove the body.”

  “Will do.”

  Heart racing, Sidney disconnected, switched on the lights and siren and peeled out. Just wh
en she thought things couldn’t get any worse in her community, they had. Far worse. Who was dead? What was burning?

  After a harried drive, she arrived to find the driveway blocked by an ambulance and fire trucks from both Garnerville and Jackson. It had stopped snowing but dusk darkened the sky with a murky gloom. Sidney parked on the shoulder and hiked up the ice-rutted driveway. Rounding the bend, she spotted a dozen animated firemen silhouetted against an inferno of leaping flames and dense black smoke. Grisly’s entire barn was engulfed. Fed by an abundance of fuel, the fire writhed, roared, snapped, and hissed, and leapt several stories high. Hurtling missiles of debris shot from the roof, which was starting to cave in on itself. Clearly, nothing inside would survive. All evidence of Grisly’s wrongdoing would be incinerated. Melting snow and water from the hoses created icy sludge that spread in all directions, making walking tricky.

  She scanned the landscape of organized chaos and spotted EMTs working over a prone body on a gurney. She approached with dread, shocked to see the unconscious patient was Harper Meade, hooked up to oxygen and an IV. Sander Vance stood watching the techs, his face ashen and pinched with worry. The deep creases on his forehead softened when he saw her. Looking like a man clearly out of his depth, he raised his voice above the roar of fire and surging water. “Chief Becker. Thank God you’re here.”

  “What happened to Harper?” Sidney asked, snapping into her professional persona.

  “Grisly shot him.”

  Holy Shit. “How bad is it?”