“No, silly. There is no spirit there, just an impression of energy. It happens with sounds too, which is why some people hear footsteps or voices when there’s no one in the house but them. The child Loki saw may not have died, but whatever happened to her was so traumatic at the time that she expended enough energy to create the loop.”
Bruiser trotted into the kitchen, and Jules bent to pet him. “That actually makes sense in a weird sort of way. Jake did say it happened about the same time of night all three times. Doesn’t make a lot of sense that Loki would see it now, though. She doesn’t see spirits or psychic impressions, and we’ve been driving that same road for years.”
“It could have been someone trying to warn her of something. There’s also astral projection, and don’t tell me you don’t know what that means because you’ve done it before.”
“I think it’s called out-of-body experiences.”
“When it happens by accident, yes, but what you did yesterday was much more than that. You wanted it to happen.”
“Some part of me did.” Jules sighed. “Some parts of me just want it to all go away. Like you said, be normal.”
“This place where Loki sees the girl, do you remember anything traumatic happening there? Something that involved your family?”
Jules frowned. “No, but the brush pile had a strange feel to it. Sort of like I had been there before, but I don’t remember ever going there.” Bruiser whined and walked to the back door. “Looks like somebody is ready for a run.”
Grace tossed him a bottle of water. “It’s really hot out there. If he runs too far, you’ll need that.”
“We’ll go through the forest. It’s cooler in there.”
Grace stood at the door until the two disappeared from sight. She hated lying to him and hiding things she knew. She’d told him all she was allowed to tell. The two of them would never be normal. She could only hope she was there to help him when the pain finally hit. It would come when he remembered the night his parents disappeared and realized what he was feeling and why that brush pile felt familiar.
Reginald Merriweather was a big man, but his confidence had shrunk courtesy of pain, grief, and a weight no man should have to carry. He sat hunched into the deck chair on the patio.
“I won’t take up too much of your time, Officer Merriweather,” Jake said. “As I told you on the phone, Radolph Wilson asked me to investigate his brother’s death.”
“You can forget the officer stuff. And Rafe better be glad he died, because if he hadn’t, I might have killed him myself.”
The anger was tinged with deep sorrow and pain. The words sounded tough, but underneath was a river of tears begging to be cried.
“I understand he called you right before he went to the station.”
“Yeah, the son of a bitch probably thought he was doing me a favor. Instead it just made me look guilty, like I knew what he was gonna do and left to save my own ass. I quit this morning. Tired of the looks and accusations and ‘Indian lover’ comments every time I turned my back.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Merriweather. People can be cruel, and losing a partner is like losing a part of yourself. Have you talked with Ruth?”
He shook his head, his eyes downcast, his body stiff. “What do you want me to say to her? Sorry your husband turned out to be a cop killer?”
Jake pulled the photographs he’d taken from Rafe’s desk and placed them on the table between them. “I believe Rafe Wilson was a good man, and he did what he did to save his family. Someone was threatening him.”
Merriweather glanced at the photos then looked away. “He could have found another way. I sure as hell would have.”
“Depends on who he was up against. Maybe he could have, and maybe he couldn’t. That’s what I’m going to find out. The same thing happened in Anderson, and I’m headed there tomorrow to see if I can find similar pictures.” Jake stood and reached for the photos. “There’s something else you might want to think about. Rafe Wilson would never have shot you. He called you and had you leave because he didn’t want you to be the one who had to kill him. Ruth Wilson could use a friend right now.”
Jake stomped to his car, frustrated with human nature. Merriweather was hurting, but instead of trying to find answers, he’d simply crawled into his shell and nurtured his hate of the world. At least Merriweather had saved Jake a trip to the station. If Merriweather was receiving that kind of treatment, Jake was pretty sure to be met with hatred and rage himself. In the policemen’s minds, Rafe Wilson was a cop killer. The reasons weren’t important. The fact that he was Choctaw had only fueled their rage. Wilson could fight beside them and even die for them, but he’d always be an outsider.
Jake’s lack of sleep and the exhaustion of dealing with the emotions of Ruth and Merriweather were pulling him down. It was a three-hour drive to Anderson. The best thing he could do was check into a motel, sleep, and get an early start in the morning.
“Hey!”
Jake turned to find Merriweather rushing after him. “What do you want?”
“Where did you find those pictures?”
“Rafe had a room over the garage. They were hidden inside his desk.”
“Spent a few nights on that raggedy old couch of his. I’m sorry, Mr. Savior. I’d like to show them to the captain. Might not make any difference to him, but it does to me.” He held out his hand, and Jake shook it. “And thanks for the butt kicking. Felt like I’d gone about as low as a human being could go, but I was wrong. Rafe Wilson was a good man, and a good friend. I owe it to him to do what I can for his family. And if somebody was threatening him, I want to know who it was.”
“Want me to tag along?”
“You can, but it may get real ugly. The captain ain’t the nicest person in the world.”
“It won’t be the first time I’ve dealt with a jerk of a boss. Climb in.”
When Merriweather had said that his captain wasn’t the nicest person in the world, it had been an understatement.
“He killed three good men, and I don’t give a damn about his personal problems. Now get the hell out of my office.”
Merriweather threw up his hands and glared at Jake. “See, I told you he wouldn’t listen.”
Jake placed a hand on Merriweather’s shoulder to calm him down, deciding to appeal from a different point of view. “If what I think is true, sir, this is going to happen again. The shooting in Anderson was three weeks to the day Rafe Wilson opened fire here. We have a little over two weeks to find the person behind this before it happens again and more officers die.”
“Won’t be any Choctaw in police stations in three weeks, and if they approach, we’ll have orders to shoot now and ask questions later. Now get out before I have you thrown out.”
The walk out of the station was a little more than a hundred steps, but it felt like miles. The two men were met with angry glares from all sides.
“So what now?” Merriweather asked.
“A motel, eight hours’ sleep, and on the road at first light. Hopefully the captain in Anderson will be a little more open-minded and hospitable.”
“You might want to keep traveling, Savior. News of what we were there for will spread like wildfire in the next few minutes. They know what you’re driving, and every cop out there will have his eye out for you.”
Sadly, Merriweather was right. The odds of getting a good night’s sleep were one in a million. More than likely he’d be jailed for some made-up offense and spend the night on a hard cot. “Yeah, I think you’re right. I’ll drop you off and move on. What about you?”
“If you don’t mind me having those pictures, I thought I’d pay Ruth a visit and let her know her husband was a good man in a bad place. Then we can both have a much-needed cry.”
Jake turned in to the driveway and parked. He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out the photos, and handed them to Merriweather. “Thank you. I didn’t know how I was going to tell her. The news will come easier from a friend. I�
��ll need those back, though. ”
Merriweather climbed out. “I’ll be seeing you, Savior. Plan on doing a little investigating myself. If I find anything, I’ll give you a call. Stop back by on your way home if you get time.”
Jake waved as he backed out of the driveway. It was only a twenty-minute drive to Little Texas, and that wouldn’t take him too far out of his way to Anderson. A police cruiser drove by, slowing down as it passed. It was already beginning. He hoped Little Texas was far enough away.
9
“Over there!”
Dadron slowed and peered at the area Loki was pointing to. “I don’t see anything.”
Loki opened her door and climbed out. “It was just a small glint of sunlight off metal. May not be anything, but I want to check it out. Why don’t you and Mr. Blackwell stay here? Shouldn’t take me more than five minutes.”
“All right, but if you’re not back in five minutes, we’re coming after you.”
Loki smiled as she took off at a steady pace. She wasn’t really worried because it would take Mr. Blackwell five minutes to get out of the car. The trees were thick and tightly woven, and she doubted she’d actually seen anything. It would be impossible to get a car through here.
She slowed as the forest thinned, letting in more light until suddenly she broke free into a clearing. Tim’s vehicle was parked in the middle, both doors open. Unsheathing her knife, Loki approached slowly, careful not to disturb any signs on the ground. If there were even traces of footsteps, Dadron would be able to find them and follow the trail. The closer she came, she realized she didn’t have to worry about traces of footprints. Whoever had driven the vehicle here wasn’t worried about it, and there were plenty of footprints.
She moved to the side of the vehicle and glanced in, relieved that no blood covered the seats. There was no sign of Tim, either, and the vehicle had been vandalized, its dash ripped out and its radio taken. If Tim had carried anything personal with him, it wasn’t here now.
Breaking branches sounded loud in the stillness, and Dadron came out of the tree line. He knelt beside the driver’s door and studied the prints. “Whoever drove this here, it wasn’t Tim. This man was bigger and heavier.”
“There’s prints on the other side too. Maybe they’re Tim’s.”
Dadron moved around the vehicle, studying the ground as he went. “Not Tim’s.”
“Where did you leave Mr. Blackwell?”
“He’s coming.” Dadron stood and dusted off his hands. “Looks like they came in that way. I’ll follow the tracks, and they should lead me to where they started.”
Mr. Blackwell finally appeared at the edge of the forest.
“I don’t think we should split up,” Loki said.
Dadron grunted something under his breath. “It will take hours if we all go.”
Nathaniel Blackwell grinned as he pointed at the road. He rolled off something in Choctaw that Loki couldn’t understand.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“He said that road comes in from the basin. Tim must have gone back there after we left yesterday.” Dadron tossed her the keys. “Take Mr. Blackwell and meet me there. I’m going to follow the tracks just in case they made any stops along the way.”
Loki wanted to protest but knew she’d lose that battle. “Just be careful, okay?”
“Yes, Momma.”
“You get hurt, and I’m going to show you what a real momma does when kids don’t obey.”
Dadron took off at a run, his laughter flowing behind him.
Taking Mr. Blackwell by the arm, Loki turned him in the direction they’d come from and sighed. “Come on, Mr. Blackwell. If we’re lucky, we’ll be there by nightfall.”
Dadron slowed as he rounded a curve and stopped for a moment to check the tracks. The broken branches along the edge of the trail told their own story. The person driving the vehicle wasn’t an accomplished driver—probably kids out for a joyride. He wasn’t sure Loki had noticed, but the keys were missing and the ignition pulled out to start the car.
The trip was actually shorter than he’d expected, and the basin lay a few hundred feet in front of him. The teepee looked out of place, and Dadron shook his head in disgust. He didn’t remember a lot about their time on the reservation, but he remembered the hate in the eyes of the tribe members. He remembered listening to his mother cry at night because her family wasn’t accepted. His grandfather had been an important man back then and could have changed all that with just a few words. Instead his grandfather had added to his mother’s grief by constantly reminding her she was a half-breed. If she’d lived long enough and studied history, she’d have known almost everyone had mixed blood.
Dadron approached the teepee slowly, looking for trace along the ground. The footsteps leading to the entrance were deep in places and shallow in others. Whoever had made them was in a hurry. The sound of the vehicle on the ridge above made him glance up. He chuckled. Loki must have carried Blackwell to the car to have made it here this quick. He stopped to wait for her.
“Did you find anything?” she asked.
“Just got here. What’d you do, carry him back to the car?”
Loki glanced to where Blackwell was making his way down the embankment. “He’s actually not that slow if you give him a reason to speed up. And he showed me a shortcut so we didn’t have to walk a half mile to get here.”
“So what reason did you give him to speed up?”
“I told him there was a pouch of tobacco in the glove compartment.” She turned to the teepee, deep furrows marring her forehead. “Do you think anyone is in there?”
“Yeah, but there’s only one way to find out who.” Dadron walked to the tent and opened the flap. Tim Whitefeather stared out at him with blank eyes, his arms clutched around his knees.
“Oh my God,” Loki whispered. “It must be at least a hundred degrees in there. We need to get him out.”
“Hold the flap.”
“I’ve got a better idea.” Loki pulled the knife from her waistband and slit the material from top to bottom, then she worked her way around the top to let the entire section fall. “He’s in shock and probably suffering from dehydration. I’ll go back to the top and see if my cell phone will work. If it does, we can get a helicopter in here to take him out.”
Mr. Blackwell had finally made his way to the bottom and grabbed her arm as she passed. He chattered excitedly in Choctaw, waving his arms about.
“Dadron, what’s he saying?”
“He says our medicine is no good, and if we want to save his life, we should leave him here until he wakes up.”
“That’s crazy. Does he look like he’s just going to wake up?”
Mr. Blackwell approached the teepee, still chattering excitedly.
“He wants you to go back to the house and pick up Neta. She’s studying to be a medicine woman. He says she’ll know what to do.” Dadron pointed at a small stream running through the basin. “I’m going to go get some water. I say we give him a chance, Loki.”
Loki stared at the sightless eyes and lifeless body. Jules had looked like that the morning they’d found him. And the doctors had almost killed him. It wouldn’t hurt to at least give Neta a chance. “I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
Dadron was kneeling next to the fabric, which Loki noticed for the first time was rawhide. She’d wondered what he was going to carry the water in.
She rushed to the top of the ridge, drove as fast as she could over the bumpy road, and screeched to a halt just as Neta ran out of the house, her face paling.
“Papa?”
Loki exited shaking her head. “We found Tim. He’s in shock and dehydrated. Your father sent me to get you.”
“Let me grab a few things.” Neta disappeared inside the house, reappearing only seconds later carrying a huge satchel and two buckets filled with towels. “Let’s go.”
“So how long have you been studying to be a medicine woman?” Loki turned the vehicle around in the gras
s and headed back the way she’d come.
“Most of my life. It’s what my mother wanted for me.”
“Neta, I believe in a lot of things, but Tim looks…” She hesitated. “He looks more dead than alive. My cell phone won’t work there, but I can still call a helicopter to take him out of here before we leave.”
“Trust is a hard thing for many people. I’m honored that you trusted my father and came to get me. Now you must trust me. If I cannot help him, we will come back and call your helicopter.”
Loki turned her attention to the road, picking up speed in the areas she could and slowing to a crawl in others. She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally reached the top of the ridge. Dadron and Mr. Blackwell had used the remaining fabric and poles of the teepee to construct a cover to block the sun. By the time Loki cut the motor, Neta was out of the vehicle and rushing down the hill. Loki made her way down the incline, watching as Neta pulled things from her satchel and began issuing orders.
“What can I do to help?” Loki asked, kneeling beside Neta.
“We’ll need lots of hot water. Papa is going to build a fire.”
“It’s ninety degrees or hotter out here, Neta. He’s already dehydrated.”
“His body is frozen in place from fear. The hot water will help his muscles to relax, and some of the moisture will be absorbed through his skin, helping with the dehydration. Eventually we’ll be able to unfold him.”
Frozen from fear. Loki sat on her haunches, her gaze going to the ridge overhead. Tim wasn’t a he-man gorilla, but she’d never known him to be afraid or back away from anything. It would be dark in a few more hours. If they didn’t leave soon, they would be trapped here for the night. There must be clues to what happened up there somewhere. “Tell Dadron I’m going to have a look around. I’ll be back soon.”
The fire was blazing, and Neta placed a bucket over the coals. “Fear controls the mind, and we see things that we normally wouldn’t see. Don’t be afraid, Loki. The darkness feeds on fear.”
Innocent Blood: a gripping thriller that will have you hooked (Redmond Investigations Book 2) Page 5