Dadgummit

by Maggie Toussaint

  “This looks serious,” I said. “What’s going on?”

  “You reported Sayer as last seen in this area. We need to question him. He’s sheltered in this cabin before.”

  I dashed off another telepathic message to my daughter. They’re taking me to the local sheriff. They have no reason to hold us, so I’ll be back soon. Love you.

  I wished like anything Larissa could do more than receive my messages. I would feel better if I knew her state of mind. I hoped and prayed my mother-in-law didn’t get wind of this. I’d foiled her attempt to get custody of Larissa earlier this summer, but I didn’t trust her to let it go. She’d use any information she could to prove I was an unfit mother. I pursed my lips in frustration. She wouldn’t hear about this from me.

  The cop’s radio squelched loudly. Immediately following the abrupt noise, the person at the other end rattled off a series of numerical codes. Deputy Duncan clicked a button. “Roger that.”

  “When this is over, will I get my gun and my personal possessions back?” I asked as we rolled along the grassy driveway and onto the paved road.

  “Yes, ma’am, you will have them today, but the timing depends on the sheriff.”

  “Can you tell me what this is about?”

  My question rated no response. I stared glumly out the window as we negotiated a curvy mountain road. We weren’t headed down the mountain to town. We were going up the hill. What?

  I tapped on the metal grate between the front and back seat. “Hey, town’s the other direction. You’re going the wrong way.”

  “Not headed to town.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Duncan took the next curve a little too fast for my comfort. I braced myself against the door to keep from sliding across the vinyl seat. Finally, the man spared me a glance. “What kind of consulting do you do for your sheriff? My boss is over the moon that you’re here.”

  My skin prickled for no good reason. I had a bad feeling about this. “If I’m not under arrest, can you pull over and let me out?”

  “Afraid not. The best I can figure, the sheriffs have done a deal.”

  What had my sheriff, Wayne Thompson, gotten me into? I owed him, for sure, for helping get my in-laws off my back two months ago when they’d tried to pull a custody grab of my daughter, but I had planned to repay him with a favor, not to have him pimp me out. Gloom settled heavily on my shoulders. I eyed the doors. No handles. I wasn’t getting out of this car without Deputy Duncan’s help. “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re the sheriff’s ticket to the big tent. Sheriff Blair’s sights are set on being the next governor. She’s licking her chops. Says you’re gonna be her lucky charm. Do you have special insight into criminology? Are you a profiler?”

  As a rule, I never mention dreamwalking to strangers. It’s better that way. “I’m a mother who happens to consult for my local police department. I don’t work crime scenes in other jurisdictions. I’m on vacation.”

  “Not anymore. According to the chatter in my ear com, your sheriff officially loaned you to us. Said to remind you it’s time for payback.”

  Payback. He would call in the debt when I was on vacation.

  Deputy Duncan cleared his throat. His gaze met mine in the rearview mirror. “I couldn’t help noticing your unusual hair, ma’am. That white streak looks natural, but it’s so different from your darker hair.”

  Allowing my dreamwalking abilities to be part of my daily life came at a cost. All my psychic relatives started with normal hair. The ones who gave their talents free rein bore the visible sign of power. Because I’d denied my gift until this year, the striped look still surprised me when I gazed at my reflection.

  I sighed. “The white forelock came from the universe in January. Some higher power’s idea of making me a beacon.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  I shoved a few errant strands of hair behind my ear. “Me either.”

  Chapter Six

  The cruiser bounced down a narrow, grassy path. Underbrush scraped the sides and bottom of the car. Ahead, I saw a cluster of emergency vehicles, lights flashing red, blue, and yellow. Uniformed officers bustled about a tight knot of people.

  Sheriff Blair would be in that mix. Dead center, I estimated. She expected me to propel her to fame. Worse, my sheriff back home had called in the favor I owed him and promised my help. There was too much static and despair in the backseat of this car, which kept me from opening my senses and figuring out what the heck was going on, but that was my plan once I stepped foot outside this vehicle.

  People scattered like ants as we approached. Deputy Duncan stopped the car behind a black SUV. “Here you go: your next assignment.”

  Great. A case I didn’t want, with people I didn’t know or trust. I didn’t like surprises, and this day had been chock full of them. I took a slow breath. Perhaps it wouldn’t be bad. Perhaps I could breeze in and solve their case on the spot.

  Yeah, right.

  I was still upset over being strong-armed here. These people must’ve been raised by wild animals with no concept of manners. But even as I chewed on my wounded pride, another part of me yearned to know what was on the other side of these vehicles. What was so strange that they had to practically kidnap a Dreamwalker?

  My pulse raced, and I felt like I could leap tall buildings. I was becoming an adrenaline junkie, but I couldn’t deny that I needed to know what was going on.

  I sat up straighter. “What happened here?”

  His cop-sharp eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “You’re supposed to tell us.” Deputy Duncan sprang from the car and let me out.

  An emotional collage flooded my normal senses as I stood, but the jingle-jangle on my other line held my attention. This was no ordinary crime scene. Something twisted had happened here, and the unknown always freaked people out.

  Automatically, I blended my vision, looking to see if a person with a wildly flaming aura had inserted himself into the recovery operation. People appeared to be concerned, scared, upset, and agitated. No one seemed to be in the midst of a sociopathic meltdown.

  I changed channels, willing my vision into another spectrum. The light shimmered, and a haze appeared around people. Deputy Duncan glowed a nice blue, but the person in the center of the knot of people radiated a fiery orange fog. As I glanced her way, the redheaded woman stepped clear of hangers-on and strode over to us.

  I needed to be one hundred percent around this powerful dynamo, so I shielded my extra senses again. The sheriff was short, though you’d never know it from the authority that rolled off her sturdy shoulders. Her uniform was different in color than the sheriff’s at home, but the garments looked like they came from the same catalog. She wore a baby-blue polo shirt with an official emblem over the heart and creased navy slacks. On her feet were hiking boots that had seen their share of muddy creek beds.

  So she wasn’t afraid to get dirty. My respect for her rose a notch.

  I jammed my hands in my pockets, not wanting to shake hands with anyone, not wanting to waste precious energy on anyone I didn’t need to read. Everyone had secrets. Not all secrets needed to see the light of day. That was a fact.

  “I’m Sheriff Twilla Sue Blair. You’re the psychic?” the sheriff asked in a green-apple-tart voice.

  “My name’s Baxley Powell. I’m a dreamwalker.”

  “You see visions of dead people?”

  “Sometimes.” And sometimes I talk with them, but that isn’t the norm.

  She nodded curtly. “You’re a psychic. I need your help solving a man’s murder.”

  My jaw clenched. If she expected me to perform a public séance, she’d gotten the wrong message from Wayne back home. Maybe if I pointed out her error, she’d let me off the hook.

  “With all due respect, I’m not a traveling sideshow, ma’am,” I said. “I’m here on vacation with my family. And for the record, I fail to understand why you couldn’t have just asked politely, instead of dragging me away from my
family with no explanation.”

  “Sheriff Thompson told me all about you. I understand your reservations, but I need your expertise.” Sheriff Blair’s focus flitted to the tree line behind me before she lanced me with a needle-sharp gaze. “There’s something extra about this case, something that’s in your wheelhouse.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Certain elements here appear ritualistic, but there are no footprints, no obvious means of death. My second-in-command is part Cherokee. He keeps muttering about the Little People. Claims the Nunne’hi did this.”

  I didn’t want to be interested, but I was. My tattoos heated a bit. An entity from the Other Side named Rose had marked me with two inked images of her namesake flower, one for every favor she’d done for me. My debt to her was an hour of my life for each tattoo, which scared the bejeebers out of me. According to Rose, she was an angel working an undercover assignment in the netherworld. I’d witnessed her black wings and her unusual powers firsthand. Since she’d tagged me as hers, I hoped like anything she was telling the truth. Unfortunately, my lie-detecting ability didn’t work on Rose, so I had no choice but to do her bidding.

  I glanced around, hoping this tattooed mentor and sometime nemesis wouldn’t draw me into a dreamwalk right now. Rose had rescued my father and saved my mother’s best friend, and now I owed her two hours of my life—a fact she liked to dangle over my head.

  Thinking about Rose was just borrowing trouble; instead, I focused on what the female sheriff had said. “Are the Little People and the Nunne’hi the same thing?”

  “According to Deputy Mayes, they are interchangeable in Native American folklore.” Sheriff Blair’s face reddened. “When I heard you were up here, I knew you were exactly what I needed.” She paused again. “I apologize for getting you here first and asking you second. You will do it, won’t you? I’ll pay your standard consulting fee.”

  Curiosity, outrage, or self-preservation? What response would get me away from here? I spun the roulette wheel of my thoughts and let ’em rip. “I’ve listened to you, which is more courtesy than you’ve shown me. I’m not happy about being shanghaied. Deputy Duncan could’ve explained everything before he stuck me in the back of a cruiser like a prisoner. I don’t appreciate being manhandled, and I’m not in the mood to do you any favors. I want my gun and my possessions returned, and I want to be transported back to my camper. Now.”

  Twilla Sue raised her hands in mock surrender. “Easy. I’ll return your gun right this second if that helps. My deputy did exactly what I ordered him to do. I apologize if I’ve hurt your feelings, but I was desperate.”

  “My feelings?” Air huffed out my nose. “You trampled my civil rights, not my feelings, though I am definitely angry. I should take you to court.”

  “Please, please. Just hear me out. I needed you to see this place, to feel the unnatural stillness. Something right up your alley happened here. I know it in my bones. No way did this kid just lie down and die.”

  I didn’t want to listen, but in the ensuing silence, I did. Not a single bird chirp. No hums from insects. How was that possible?

  She must have taken my silence as acquiescence. “Let me brief you on the particulars and show you the murder victim. If you want to walk away after that, I will respect your wishes.”

  I glanced around the wide-open space. It should’ve felt peaceful with so much sky and water, but it didn’t. It felt morbid. I wanted to know why. I looked the sheriff dead in the eye. “My Beretta.”

  Twilla Sue waved Deputy Duncan forward. He handed me my gun, which I stuck in my waistband. “A good faith gesture on my part,” the sheriff said. “Normally I would not allow armed civilians or consultants onto my crime scenes. But I need your help. Will you examine the scene?”

  The Sheriff’s Lucky Charm—that’s what Deputy Duncan called me. I was to be instrumental in this woman’s gubernatorial campaign. I’d be best served to remember Sheriff Blair had an agenda here.

  Hopefully, I could take a look, give her my opinion, and be on my way. In the event I did a dreamwalk, which should only take a few extra minutes, the whole thing would take an hour tops. I’d be back fishing with my family before lunchtime. And earn a healthy donation to Larissa’s college fund.

  I named an exorbitant hourly rate.

  The sheriff nodded. “Done.”

  “The clock started ticking from the moment your guys picked me up.”

  “Sure.”

  She was mighty agreeable all of a sudden. I had one more caveat. “I’ll help you as long as we have an understanding about my abilities. I don’t control what the dead show me. The visions aren’t always related to the investigation. There’s usually no Q and A.”

  “Sounds grossly inefficient, but I’ll take anything you can give me. We’re stumped.”

  I relaxed a little more. This was going to work out fine for both of us. “And another thing. Dreamwalks burn a lot of energy. I need time to recharge between episodes. At home, I have a support team and an environment rich in rejuvenation. I have no idea what my rate of recovery will be at Stony Creek Lake. You gotta promise me something. No hospitals and no drugs after a dreamwalk. Even if I appear to be unconscious. That’s a natural process for me of my body shutting down to sleep off the exhaustion.”

  She waved off my remarks. “I got a similar lecture from your handler.”

  “What?”

  “Your handler. Sheriff Thompson.”

  “He’s not my handler. I consult for him. Big difference.”

  “He’s got big plans for the two of you.”

  “He needs to have his head examined.” Though I was undeniably interested in the case, I had other priorities to consider first. “Where’s my kid?”

  “Your daughter and friend are with a deputy at your campsite. I’m prepared to foot their entertainment bill while you help us.”

  “Like what?”

  “Whatever they’d like. A boat ride on the reservoir with a picnic lunch. A spa day. A matinee and lunch in Gainesville. I’m flexible.”

  Sheriff Blair must be in a jam to spring for all that. “I need to speak with them. Right now.”

  “Call your daughter, let me know what she wants to do, and let’s get to work. Daylight’s burning.”

  The sheriff stalked off. I heard rustling behind me in the car, then the deputy handed me a manila envelope with my name on it. I snatched the phone out and called Charlotte. She answered on the first ring.

  “We’re fine,” Charlotte said in a squeaky voice, which let me know someone was there, listening. “How about you?”

  “Better now that they’re leveling with me. They want me to work a case, Char. I realize it’s lousy timing, but when they ran my name through the system, Sheriff Blair thought she’d won the lottery. Worse, she called Wayne, and he promised I’d help her. Anyway, the sheriff has assigned a deputy to spend the day with you and Larissa.”

  “No deal. If there’s a case, I want to be part of it.”

  I lowered my voice to make sure it didn’t carry. “I have no authority here, but I’ll give you the same aftermath access you get at home.”

  “I don’t like it, but I understand. What are we supposed to do?”

  I ran through all the entertainment options offered, and Charlotte repeated them aloud for Larissa’s sake. They quickly settled on a movie and lunch in nearby Gainesville. Charlotte agreed to update my parents on the situation.

  Business concluded, I had one more request. “I’d like to speak to Larissa.”

  “Just a sec.”

  Larissa came on. “Mom? You okay?”

  “Yeah. Sorry about the scare. The police need my help with a case, and they have the manners of wild boars.” I turned to see Deputy Duncan trying to hide a smile. “However, once we got the issues sorted out, I agreed to take a look. I apologize for the interruption in our holiday. Can we reschedule paddleboarding?”

  “Sure. I’m fine, Mom. Charlotte and I will look after each other.”
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  “I’ve got my phone back. You need me anytime today, call, okay?”

  “Got it.”

  I wish I had “it.” Larissa and Charlotte’s outing of lunch and a show sounded great. I hung up, passed along their outing preference to Deputy Duncan, and then picked my way through the cluster of emergency vehicles.

  The crime scene tape stopped me like an invisible force field. Something glimmered at the edge of my field of vision. I turned but wasn’t fast enough to catch it. Reflexively, I touched the moldavite pendant I wore. The cherished gift from my husband immediately focused my thoughts.

  Dead guy.

  Straight ahead.

  Chapter Seven

  While the last murder case I’d worked had been a bloodbath, this lake frontage crime scene seemed pristine. Not a drop of blood anywhere. The body of the barefooted man laid out like a five-pointed star looked unblemished. No visible gunshot or stabbing holes in his T-shirt or jeans. No sign of a fight. If someone hadn’t told me he was dead, I would have assumed this guy was sleeping.

  “Ms. Powell,” the sheriff called from a clump of officers, “over here.”

  I ducked under the crime tape and headed toward the sheriff. She’d convened a meeting to the right of the victim. The group included eight deputies, two EMTs, and my not-so-favorite state archeologist, Gail Bergeron. Her high-dollar jeans and white lab coat stood out among the dark uniforms.

  Why was Gail here? She’d been quite chummy with Deputy Duncan, so I believed she’d worked with them on an earlier case. Made sense when you considered how relatively close the mountains were to Atlanta, where Gail was based.

  I’d met her on a homicide case that also involved old bones. Gail had been arrogant, rude, insufferable, and annoyingly right.

  “The first team on scene combed the immediate vicinity for evidence, so this area is completed,” the sheriff said. “Pair up and work the search grid until shift change and then we’ll reevaluate. Keep your eyes open and your radios on. We don’t know who,” she winked at me, “or what is out there. Dr. Bergeron and my consultant will add their expertise to our investigation into the death of John Doe. Any questions?” She glanced around and nodded. “Dismissed.”