by Linda Berry
“They’re on Nikah’s desk.” River’s eyes shadowed. “Mom wiped off the blood.”
Of course she did.
Darnell raised his brows. “Just curious. Why’d you leave the sheets on the bed? You must have known we’d process them.”
“Mom never got the chance to clean Nikah’s room. I knew the sheets would tell a story. That we were lovers. But I didn’t think you could place me at her house the night she died.”
“Why didn’t your mom get the chance to clean her room?”
“Someone came into the house. She panicked and ran out.”
“Who came in?”
“Tommy’s son. Tegan. But of course, he’s blind. Mom wasn’t worried that he’d identify her.”
“Tegan was in Nikah’s house?” Sidney asked, alarmed.
“Yes. But the blood was cleaned up by then. There was nothing for him to see.”
Maybe not with his eyes. But if Tegan got a sense that Nikah had been killed, and he believed he had just intercepted her killer, that would have been a terrifying experience. Tegan might have thought the killer would come after him, which could explain why he and Elahan fled the village.
She turned back to River. “I don’t believe you’re a murderer, River. But even if you killed Nikah justifiably, it’s still a homicide. We’ll have to investigate it thoroughly. Dr. Linthrope will have to determine if Nikah’s head wound is consistent with hitting the desk. He’ll need to find trace evidence of your blood on Nikah’s scissors.”
River seemed relieved, as though a great burden had been lifted from his chest.
“But you should have listened to your instincts and used better judgment. If you had called us to the scene, this would all be resolved by now. But you chose to conceal a homicide, alter and destroy evidence, remove a body without release from the proper authorities, and you illegally left it on public land.”
River’s eyes locked on Sidney’s. “So, I guess you’re going to arrest me?”
“Yes.”
He nervously licked his lips. “What about my mom?”
“We’re going to have to hold her accountable, too. You’ll both be taken into custody, but fortunately, not for murder.”
River looked worried. “If this gets into the paper, Mom’s cover will be blown. Her life will be in danger. Vince will be sure to see it. He’ll find a way to kill her.”
Sidney sighed. They should have thought of that before breaking the law. “We can’t keep this under wraps, River. A local woman died. Everyone will want to know what happened.”
“What’s next?” River asked.
“If you can’t afford a lawyer, we’ll get a public defender assigned to you. There’ll be a hearing for probable cause in the morning. Your lawyer can post bail and you’ll both be released.”
Sidney turned to Darnell. “Book him. Tell Amanda to get out to Two Creeks to bring Jenna in.”
“Let’s go, River.” The two left the room.
Sidney took a moment to collect her thoughts. It had been an emotionally-charged day, between her visits to the morgue and her two interrogations. River and Sander were in custody, but Grisly was still out there, following Elahan and the boy. She scrolled through her messages. One was from Granger.
We have Grisly. But there’s another suspect out here. We’re going after him.
What the hell? Another suspect? Sidney wrote back:
Alert me the second you have him in custody. Be careful!
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
A LIVING ROOM, a kitchen, and a small bedroom made up the interior of the creaky, musty cabin. Standing on the rotting floorboards in the doorway of the kitchen, Moolock was satisfied with the appearance of the living room. It had been stripped of furnishings years ago, but now a single propane lantern hissed and sputtered in one corner. Barely illuminated on the far side of the room were two figures seated in front of the wood stove that he had fashioned out of buffalo hides.
Moolock turned on the iPod he’d brought and placed it in the shadows. The room filled with the chorus of two voices passionately chanting in a native tongue. He turned up the volume just loud enough to be heard from outside the cabin. The lone rider would be more daring if he believed Tegan and Elahan were engrossed in this diversion, and not focused on a man lurking outside who had malicious intentions.
Lelou suddenly growled and stared intently at the front door. Moolock, too, heard something. A small sound. A sound that penetrated the timbers of the house.
The wolf trembled in his stance.
Moolock unholstered his pistol, grabbed the wolf’s collar, and stepped back into the darkness of the kitchen. He felt the familiar heaviness in his chest, the pounding of blood in his temples when the warning siren wailed in Afghanistan. He was in that zone that anticipates an intense blast of danger.
The door handle turned slowly. Then the door opened wide enough to allow a big man to quietly slip into the room and shut it behind him.
Moolock assessed him in the blink of an eye. A half-foot taller than himself. A powerful build under a long, black coat. Features hidden by a raccoon hat and knit scarf. A mountain of a man.
The intruder lifted his pistol toward the dummies, and growled, “Shut the fuck up. Hands above your heads.”
A tense moment of complete stillness followed.
With a bloodcurdling growl, Lelou jerked out of Moolock’s grasp and attacked, hitting the man from the side and knocking him to his knees. His weapon fired. An explosive pop was followed by a sharp metallic crack as the round hit the stove. Then the man jerked his gun towards Lelou.
Unable to get a clear shot past the wolf, Moolock rammed his body into the man’s arm. The pistol fired again. Moolock felt a burning sensation in his upper right arm. His own gun hit the floor.
Lelou’s jaws clenched down on the intruder’s wrist, but the man had the strength of a bull. With a piercing cry, he threw Moolock aside and wrenched his arm free of Lelou’s teeth. He struck the animal sharply on the skull with the hilt of his pistol and the wolf collapsed, blood streaming over his face. The man sprang to his feet and swung his weapon toward Moolock.
Lying on his back, Moolock had no time to go for his weapon, which lay two feet away. He slammed his foot into the man’s knee and heard an agonizing shriek. Moolock grabbed his Sig Sauer. He and the man shot simultaneously. Moolock felt a hot piercing pain in his side and saw a bullet hole appear below the man’s left cheek. He swayed like an oak tree in a fierce wind, and then crashed to the floor, shaking the walls.
Moolock lay stunned, gunshots ringing in his ears. His hands shook. He was having trouble concentrating, and knew he was in the throes of shock, but he did his best to assess the situation. He had taken two bullets and felt a warm wetness over both wounds. The large man sprawled across the floor with a bullet in his brain was most likely dead. The wolf’s breathing was ragged. Before he could help Lelou, Moolock had to attend to his own wounds, or he’d lose consciousness and bleed out.
Moolock always carried first aide essentials on his person, including a tourniquet and pressure dressings. He removed three Israeli bandages from an inner coat pocket and tore off the packaging. Gritting his teeth, ignoring the burning pain that intensified with every small move, he removed his upper body clothing and examined the wounds. He sighed his relief. The arm wound was a through-and-through. No arteries or bones affected. The second bullet grazed his torso just beneath the ribs, leaving a furrow in which deeper layers of skin and tissue had been removed. He treated the upper arm first, hissing through his teeth as he placed the sterile sides of the absorption pads against both the entry and exit wound, then he wrapped the limb tightly. He did the same to the other wound, winding the bandage around his waist as best he could with an injured arm.
Next, he examined the wolf. Lelou lay on his side, panting, legs twitching, chest heaving. Moolock used his T-shirt to wipe away some of the blood. The animal had taken a good blow. The laceration was deep and needed stitches, but it wasn’t li
fe threatening. Moolock wrapped the third compression bandage around the wolf’s head to stem the bleeding. Now they both were in need of urgent medical attention.
Moolock felt weak, woozy. Grunting with pain, he wrestled into his clothes, stepped over the legs of the big man and swung open the door to a blast of cold air. His legs felt heavy and shaky, but he needed to make it to the barn. He needed to ride out in search of help. A wave of dizziness overtook him on the porch. Tongue dry, thoughts sluggish. Feeling himself lurching forward, he grabbed hold of the snow-covered handrail to steady himself. He made it to the bottom of the steps before falling headlong into the snow and then the world faded to black.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
THE SNOWFALL had ceased and the clouds were clearing, revealing patches of blue sky. In its wake, a flawless blanket of white covered grass and shrub, boulder and tree. If not for following the creek, Granger and his men would not have known where the trail lay. All traces of horse tracks made by Elahan’s horses and Grisly’s ghost rider had been erased. Their hope of finding the cabin, which might be sheltering the old women and boy, rested on the shoulders of the devious and inebriated trapper. Propped on his horse with his hands tied to the saddle horn, Grisly led the way, head bobbing drunkenly with the motion of his horse. As if by radar, he veered away from the creek and led them directly into the snow-covered forest.
Once he got his bearings, Granger saw a logic to the way the path cut a berth through the trees, and realized they were probably following an old elk trail.
“How far?” Tommy asked Grisly impatiently.
Grisly shrugged.
“How far, asshole?” Tommy asked again.
“Fuck you.”
Granger interceded, his voice holding a threat. “Lose the attitude, Grisly, and maybe I won’t throw you in the tank with a bunch of puking, pissing drunks when we get back.”
Grisly’s eyes flattened and his tone sounded strained. “The cabin’s about a mile up the trail.”
“Let’s get a move on.”
They rode at a faster clip and got to the edge of a wide clearing within fifteen minutes. The first thing Granger saw was a big, black quarter horse tethered inside the cover of trees. Then he saw a ramshackle cabin and barn in the middle of the meadow. Smoke puffed from the chimney and a dull light flickered in the windows.
“That’s his horse,” Grisly said. “The guy tailing me.”
A hard knot of dread tightened in Granger’s gut. The rider had parked his horse out here so he could sneak up on the house. He hoped to hell they wouldn’t find the old woman and boy injured or dead inside.
“Elahan and Tegan may be in there,” Tommy said with a touch of panic, the worry in his eyes bordering on agony. He pulled his rifle from its scabbard.
Magic did the same.
“Hold on,” Granger said. “He could pick you off like fish in a barrel.” He lifted his binoculars and scanned the area around the house. “Holy shit. Someone’s lying in the snow. A man. We need to act. Magic, Tommy, ride around to the back of the cabin to the left. Stay in the cover of the woods. I’m going to the right. Get up close to the house. Work your way around to the guy on the ground.” He grabbed Grisly’s reins. “You’re coming with me.”
The men rode through the trees to the back of the house without incident and dismounted, except for Grisly. “Keep your mouth shut,” Granger warned him, tying Grisly’s horse to a porch rail, then he quietly crept up to the rear door. Magic and Tommy disappeared around the corner of the house.
Pistol in hand, Granger opened the door and cast his flashlight beam into the dark kitchen. Nothing moved but dust motes. Eerily, the sound of chanting came from the next room. He crossed the floor to the living room, blood thumping cold and slow in his ears. A man lay on the floor, his face in a pool of blood. Next to him, lay Lelou, his head bandaged. Two immobile figures sat in front of the wood stove. What the hell? He waved his light over them and saw the figures were just mounds of buffalo hides. He crouched over the man on the floor, located his carotid artery, and after a few seconds detected a weak pulse.
The door banged open and Magic and Tommy carried the other man inside. “We looked through the window,” Tommy said, panting. “Saw the room was clear.”
“He alive?” Granger asked.
“Yeah,” Tommy said, and nodded to the man on the floor. “What about him?”
“He’s in bad shape. And Lelou’s hurt.”
“Any sign of Elahan and Tegan?” Tommy asked, his expression hard and anxious.
“Sorry, no.”
The man moaned as they lowered him to the floor. Granger ran out to his horse and grabbed his first aid kit and satellite phone and rushed back. The chanting had ceased.
Tommy was bent over Lelou, stroking him and mumbling quietly. The animal whimpered back.
Granger handed his satellite phone to Magic. “You need to use this outside. Call for AirEvac. These men need to get to the ER, ASAP.”
Another moan drew Granger to the white man carried in from outside. He had long brown hair and rugged features. He was trembling and his face was ashen. Granger quickly assessed his vital signs and located the man’s two wounds, each bound by a pressure bandage that probably saved his life. The man’s lids fluttered open and dazed hazel eyes stared up at him.
“You’re okay,” Granger said, studying him closely, impressed by his medical skill. “Looks like you took care of yourself.”
The man asked weakly, “The other guy?”
“Barely alive,” Granger said.
“Go treat him,” the man said, his voice a hair above a whisper.
Granger immediately recognized the other man as the oversized Indian who had been spoiling for a fight at the Wild Horse Saloon. A vet with PTSD.
“Fitch Drako,” Tommy said, surprised.
“Up to no good,” Granger said. A bubble of anger rose inside him when he thought of the man’s intention, but he pushed it down. Drako’s skin was cold and sweaty, his pulse weak but rapid, his pupils dilated. Granger didn’t hold out much hope for him, but he concentrated on stemming the blood flow and applying a pressure bandage to his head. When he finished, he packed up his kit and examined the entire room, piecing together what had taken place. The buffalo mounds had been designed to look like Elahan and Tegan. The chanting convinced Drako they were inside the cabin and distracted. The white man was lying in wait. The blood stains near the door showed signs of a struggle and multiple gunshots.
“Airlift will be here within twenty minutes,” Magic announced, coming back in.
Granger nodded, and heard the injured white man calling Tommy by name.
Tommy crouched over him. “How do you know my name?”
“Not important.” The man coughed and cleared his throat. “Elahan and Tegan are safe.”
“Where are they?” Tommy asked, his voice raw with emotion.
“In the cave beneath Skookumchuck Falls.”
Tommy’s eyes moistened. “Jesus. They’re alive.”
“Use the tunnel east of the creek. It’s hidden by branches.”
“I know exactly where that is.”
“They’re safe,” the man repeated. “Take them home.”
Tommy fingered the pouch hanging from the man’s neck and said with a note of amazement. “This looks like Elahan’s work. Did she make this for you?”
The man nodded. “It has the power of the stones. It brought you to me.”
Tommy blinked. “Who the hell are you?”
“My name is Moolock.”
“Moolock, you have my deepest gratitude.” Tommy gently took the man’s hand. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, and Granger saw something indefinable flicker in Moolock’s eyes.
“The horses are in the barn.” Moolock closed his eyes, his mouth went slack, and he appeared to drift off.
“What’s with the pouch?” Granger asked.
In reply, Tommy stood and pulled out his own pouch from under his shirt. It looked
almost identical to Moolock’s.
“What’s a white man doing with a medicine bag?” Granger asked.
“I don’t know. Elahan only makes these for family.” He and Granger shared a look that was a combination of wonder and puzzlement.
“Moolock has some kind of strong connection to you,” Granger said. “The wolf came here with him, and probably got hurt protecting him. Moolock treated him. Judging from the way this room is set up, I’d say Moolock went to great lengths to lure Drako here. Probably to save your family. He put his life on the line. Drako shot him twice.”
Tommy cast Drako a hard glance, his face tight with fury. “Why the hell was he following Elahan and Tegan?”
“Good question,” Granger said. “Go get your family. Take them home. We’re good here. I’ll look out for the wolf.”
“Thank you,” Tommy said with feeling, placing his hand on Granger’s shoulder. “I’ll let you know when we get home.” The door shut behind him.
Granger exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The knot of anxiety eased inside him and it felt like the pressure of the world had been lifted. The old woman and boy were safe. Moolock, whoever he was, and the wolf, would recover. Grisly was facing serious jail time and Fitch might not survive the day. Two dangerous characters had been taken out of circulation.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
AFTER THE TWO HORSES splashed across White Tail Creek, Tommy wove through the forest until he located the tunnel at the bottom of the sheered granite cliff. Finding it took some time. Moolock had done an excellent job of camouflaging the opening with a rough wooden frame covered in cedar boughs. Tommy tethered the horses, muscled the makeshift door to one side, and entered the tunnel. Anxious to reunite with his family, he quickened his gait as he followed his beam of light through the narrow passageway. His entrance into the cavern came with a shock and a vicious rush of adrenaline.
Tegan stood at an angle, facing Tommy with a bow and arrow pointed directly at him, the string stretched taut. Elahan stood armed with a rifle, one eye squinting behind the scope, her gnarled finger on the trigger.