When he’d parked and powered the windows down, Perez turned in the seat to face Jacque. “Two weeks ago, a woman went missing in Kewa National Park, same area as Carson National Forest. Her roommate reported her missing when she didn’t return from a scheduled two-day hike.”
“She did this alone?” He never understood why people would go off alone without leaving a detailed plan in case they didn’t return. “Just a hunch, but I’m guessing since we’re here, it didn’t turn out well.
“Right. There were actually three other grad students with her. That morning they headed out and this girl, Karla, decided she wanted to remain there for a couple of hours to write in her journal and enjoy the last few hours alone.”
“Did they check out?”
“Yes. Even had a few texts and a video she posted on social media before she started the last few miles out. The other three drove to Santa Fe and let the roommate know the change in plans. I figure if they killed her, they wouldn’t have bothered to tell the roommate. Give the wild animals a chance to take care of any evidence.”
“What happened?”
“I also thought maybe Mr. Wind Dancer might share his intuition about this kind of thing.”
They exited the car and headed inside. What the outside of the building lacked in Western décor, the inside more than made up for. Turquoise mosaics of turtles and lizards dressed the walls, along with a shadowy person playing a flute. Pictures of pueblos and Native Americans hung on the lobby walls, and cowhide chairs sat empty with only a receptionist waiting to help them.
No one checked badges, IDs, or anything to ensure protocol and security was followed. If this were Chicago, by now they would have been in lockdown mode for entering a restricted area.
“I had Karla’s body moved out of her locker so you could see for yourself.” Perez opened the door and let them enter.
A young girl with short brown hair lay ghost-like on a metal table. It never got easy for him. A kind of rage always welled up inside him when he knew a life had been cut short in someone so young and full of promise. He moved toward the table and noticed Wind Dancer standing near the door. “Everything okay?”
Wind Dancer frowned and rushed to pull him and Perez away from the table. “She has been touched by the man who walks tall with long steps.” He tugged harder on Perez’s arm, which she jerked free. “You are in danger.”
Chapter 2
“What the hell, Joseph?” The detective slammed a fist at his friend’s chest then pulled Perez in closer before addressing his friend. “You’re not saying the girl is now a skinwalker, are you?”
“A skinwalker?” Perez’s voice sounded like glass breaking. Those beautiful brown eyes widened with concern as her forehead furrowed.
“No. She dead a long time to be skinwalker. But evil touched her. I can feel it.”
Perez squared her shoulders and stiffened the soft lines of her jaw to appear severe. “Are you some kind of medicine man?” Was she accusing him of something?
“Exactly what did the FBI tell you about us, Chief Perez, and what makes you think we can help you? We’re here on vacation.”
“Yes. I know. A camping trip.” She eyed him with a little too much contempt for his liking. “Mr. Wind Dancer appears as if he can take care of himself in the wilds of rugged country, but you resemble a city slicker with dreams of being a character from the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral.”
“I’m not sure how we can help you.” He curled his lip up in a snarl. He felt as if his masculinity might be in danger from a small-town cop whose job probably consisted of arresting teenage boys for cow tipping. “Let’s wrap this up. We were hoping to set up camp tonight. Maybe do a little fishing.”
A snide smirk toyed with the edge of her mouth, making Jacque focus on her red lips and regret sounding like a jerk. She fanned her palm toward the body. “Mr. Wind Dancer, I am carrying a gun that could bring down a buffalo at a dead run. I assure you I will be fine and so will your friend. I suspect”—she shifted her attention to Jacque—“he is carrying something similar.”
Jacque resisted explaining the weapon remained packed in his luggage in the SUV parked in the morgue lot. “Damn straight,” he offered, jamming his hands on his waist.
“Damn straight,” Wind Dancer echoed. It was a nice touch when his nostrils flared and those intimidating eyes narrowed at the detective. Jacque took a more relaxed stance by dropping his hands to his sides before stepping closer to Chief Perez.
“Let’s get on with it.” He read a printout handed to him by a lab tech. “What is this about marks on the face and hands?”
“Search parties were out searching for her within hours of the roommate’s call,” she began. “Twenty-four hours, we were in there with horses. Forty-eight hours, we had drones in the air.”
Jacque wondered why they didn’t start with that, but she held her hand up. “Before you ask, we had to send for the drones. Our little town doesn’t have the resources to purchase then train anyone to use them. Because of the government shutdown issues, we couldn’t connect with the forestry department or the Bureau of Land Management to get help. Ended up having a few high school students from Taos come in to use theirs.”
“What is a drone?” Wind Dancer asked. “Is this more white-man magic they call science?”
Perez shot him a disgruntled frown.
“I’ll explain later. But yes. It is.” Jacque moved up alongside the table. It was easier telling him magic and science coexisted in this parallel universe. Wind Dancer shifted his weight and doubled his fists. “It’s okay, buddy. I’m not going to touch her. Is that good?”
“Yes. Good. No touching.”
Perez stepped closer. “We found her on day five.”
“How deep in did you have to go before you found her?”
“Well, that’s the thing,” she said quietly. “She was found ten feet off the trail about a five-minute walk from the trailhead.” She continued after Jacque leaned in for closer inspection. “We searched earlier, even had the rescue dogs in there. No sign of her.”
“The evil one brought her back.” Wind Dancer crossed his arms.
Jacque addressed Perez. “How long had she been dead?”
“Estimated about ten hours, but the nights were cold, and we’d had rain. Our hope had been she’d gotten lost and might have climbed higher to get her bearings. We were coming out and spotted vultures circling. Took us right to where we’d started.”
“So, you found her on day five, but time of death was ten hours?” He scratched his head. “Cause of death?”
“Exposure didn’t help the situation. Her medical history suggested she’d had a heart murmur since she was a kid. Doc here”—she lifted her chin toward a man sitting at his desk— “believed she probably had a heart attack. But even he admitted it was only a guess. The death certificate says cause of death was undetermined.”
“She scared to death,” Wind Dancer offered.
“Any signs of…” He put himself between Wind Dancer and Perez and spoke under his breath. “Any signs of sexual assault?”
“No. Some of her clothes were missing: shoes, socks, a flannel shirt she wore in the video she sent to her friends. She still wore a tee shirt, underwear, and jeans.”
Jacque noticed strange scratches. “What are these marks on her face?”
“There was a cut on her cheek and one over her eye. Small scratches like she plowed up the ground with her face. Since the knees of her jeans were ripped, we figured she fell running from whatever spooked her. Her nose, as you can tell, is damaged. That, too, might be from a fall.”
“So, what are you thinking here? Maybe, out there all alone, her imagination started working overtime. Spotted a bear or mountain lion. Ran. Got lost—”
“The evil one brought her back,” Wind Dancer repeated.
“Joseph, please—”
Perez sucked in her breath and continued to stare at the body. “He may be right. When we found her, she was laid out on
a bed of pine boughs, arms at her side. She wasn’t there earlier in the day. I know this because it is close to an overlook where several volunteers drank their morning coffee, getting ready to go out again. It is wide open there.”
“What do you want from me?” Jacque rubbed his chin. This did puzzle him.
“I thought since you and Mr. Wind Dancer managed to stop a serious incident involving—”
“No,” Jacque said, heading for the door.
Perez cut him off, but Wind Dancer stepped around them and opened the door for them.
“No. No. No,” Jacque said.
“What are you afraid of?” Her voice held the tone of a playground bully calling him a scaredy-cat.
Jacque felt his face flush with anger. “I’ll tell you what I’m afraid of—stuff I don’t understand, like something called a skinwalker who takes over a dead body, or a crazy Pawnee.” He glanced at the Pawnee whose mouth turned down in a frown. “No offense, buddy.”
Wind Dancer gave him a thumbs-up.
“I don’t understand my friend here who shows up at a Pawnee earth lodge in downtown Chicago, claiming to be from another time,” Jacque explained. “Parallel universes, smallpox, and why this guy can understand what animals are thinking are just some of the things I can’t figure out.”
Perez eyed Wind Dancer, and he returned the icy contempt with narrowed eyes.
“Except snakes,” Wind Dancer offered casually. “I can’t understand them.”
“You see, Chief Perez? Those are the things I’m scared of. Give me an old-fashioned serial killer any day. At least they make sense, and they screw up, so they eventually get caught.” Jacque skirted past her. “Let’s go, Joseph.” The two men headed out into the lobby then the parking lot.
Perez hurried after them. “She wasn’t the first one, you know.”
Jacque paused with his hand on the door handle of the car. “How many?”
“Four that we know of.”
“There will be more,” Wind Dancer said drily.
Perez cocked her head. “And how do you know that?”
Jacque pinched the top of his nose and shook his head. “You had to ask, didn’t you?”
“The hawk told me.” His eyes followed the flight of the bird across the sky. “Four is a scared number to us. Now the evil one will start over, in a new place.”
Perez glared at him for a few seconds then shifted her attention to Jacque. “Is he for real?”
“I am real.” Wind Dancer used his finger to poke his arm then shoulder. “Real.”
Perez stepped away from the car as Jacque opened door and forced a narrowed smile that chilled him.
“I’ll find my own way back. You have a nice trip, gentlemen. There’s a small grocery store just before you get to the park. Check in there for a camping permit. They have gas available. I wouldn’t let your tank get too low.”
Jacque slid into the seat and pulled the door shut. When the engine turned over, he powered the window down. “Good luck, Chief Perez. Hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Wind Dancer leaned over toward Jacque to make eye contact with the officer. “I do not hope this. You cannot catch the evil one alone or with your buffalo gun. The hawk says it is so.”
She squinted contempt as her hand went to her sidearm and patted the car. “Be sure to give your friend his medication today,” she said, pointing to Wind Dancer.
“Yeah. I hear ya.” He put the car in gear and pulled onto the highway. Gritting his teeth, he shoved at Wind Dancer’s arm, aware once more how strong the man was. “Do you always have to be so asinine?”
“I do not know this word, Jacque.” He buckled the seat belt. “I think it might not be good.”
Chapter 3
Dr. Cleopatra Sommers finished her presentations on gang violence and medical care in the ER. Both sessions were packed with young doctors and nurses. The conference brochure referred to her involvement during the smallpox outbreak in Chicago several years earlier and how she’d been on the frontlines of solving the mystery of its origination.
Only a few people actually knew the mystery came from a parallel universe and had jumped through time, landing in Chicago. That person was Neosho, an Osage Indian from the 1800s, infected with smallpox. He crossed over in search of her. He’d watched her grow up in the Field Museum where her father worked.
The Native American exhibit had been her favorite place to study, play, and dream. Full of display cases with mannequins dressed in tribal costumes, one stood out above the others. He was a Pawnee she’d named Wind Dancer. All her dreams, disappointments, and fears were shared with him as she grew up. There was no way she could have known he might be listening.
The Osage had been in the case next to Wind Dancer. He, too, listened and learned from her world. The night he came for her, Wind Dancer followed to save her. The next few days had been an adventure wrapped in a horror story. Larger than life, Wind Dancer had swept her off her feet and given her a love she never imagined.
Besides the Field Museum knowing about the transformation that occurred in their Native American Exhibit, the Pentagon, high-ranking government officials, DARPA, FBI, and the Center for Disease Control kept the information a closely guarded secret. Mistakes had been made and no one wanted that kind of threat to generate a national panic among the masses. Research continued and Wind Dancer now enjoyed working at the Field Museum with the best scientists in the country.
The downside of falling in love with a man from the 1800s and an entirely different culture than you, meant explaining a great many things, like microwave ovens, why the lights came on with a switch, cars, television, and war. One of the hardest things for him to grasp was why people didn’t grow their own food or hunt.
“What if your stores close or run out of food?” he’d asked with such curiosity, it made her laugh until Chicago was shut off from a lot of deliveries for a time during the smallpox explosion.
Everyone was quarantined, and martial law activated to keep the outside world safe. People whined and complained like spoiled brats for months. Children had to be homeschooled, and parents found themselves having to actually work at being a good parent. There were so many hurdles to jump, Cleo wondered if this was the beginning of the end. But they survived and came out stronger and wiser for it.
Wind Dancer, once he crossed over into this world, found he had super-sensitive hearing, increased strength, more stamina and agility, and could actually understand animals. Yet, with all those special gifts, he remained humble and kind. He hated injustice and bullies. Jacque Marquette played referee on several occasions to ensure the Pawnee remained out of jail.
The two men formed a strong bond of friendship Cleo found endearing. However, there were times she felt like a stern parent who needed to discipline her children’s bad behavior. Jacque was the older brother who dared his sibling to try new things even though he already knew the outcome would lead to trouble. In spite of those pranks, Jacque became a kind of caretaker for his unusual friend and tried to protect him from the new world he found himself in. The Pawnee really was a stranger in a strange land.
In order to protect future generations from the horrors of modern civilization, Wind Dancer returned to his land the same way he’d come. Cleo wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to see him again. During that span of time, she and Jacque had become close friends, wondering and waiting for Wind Dancer to return. Despite her objections, Jacque had promised Wind Dancer he would take care of her until he could return. She reminded him often she was more than capable of taking care of herself. This made him list all the ways she’d gotten into trouble when the whole crisis began.
There had been several times when she’d had dinner with a male friend, and Jacque appeared at the same place.
Finally, tired of the “coincidences,” she stomped over to his table while her friend went to pay the bill. “What are you doing here?” she growled at him like a pit bull. “Are you following me, or what?”
; Jacque blinked innocently and shrugged. “I stopped in for a drink. Who’s the guy?”
“None of your business.”
Unfortunately, the dinner companion walked over to the table and stuck out his hand.
“Hi. I’m Clive Atkinson.”
Jacque stood, to tower over him. Cleo knew he did it for the sake of intimidation when he took the outstretched hand with a vise grip. They exchanged pleasantries before Clive turned to Cleo.
“Marta has gone into labor. Thankfully, her mother was with her. She just got to the hospital. Let me put you in a cab so I won’t worry about you. Or do you want to come, too? I’m sure Marta will be a lot calmer with you than me. I’m a basket case.”
Cleo smiled at Jacque’s bewildered face. “Clive is a pediatrician at the hospital. I introduced him to his wife, Marta. He’s on his dinner break.”
“First baby, and I’ll tell you I’m scared to death. So much for being a pediatrician,” he laughed.
“Could be a long night, Clive. I’ll see you in the morning. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Call me if anything happens tonight. Promise me.”
“Promise. Now about the cab.”
Jacque laid a protective hand on Cleo’s shoulder. “I’ll see that she gets home. She loves riding in the squad car.”
“No, I don’t,” she said.
“Okay. Thanks, Jacque. Great meeting you. Didn’t know Cleo had any guy friends besides at work.”
“Oh yeah. We’re buds,” he declared and gave a thumbs-up. “Good luck,” he called as the man exited the restaurant.
“Buds?” She plopped down in a chair at his table. “I need dessert.”
“The guy too cheap to buy you dessert?”
Cleo remembered the scene fondly now, although it had taken time for her to realize Jacque was following through on his promise to Wind Dancer. A few times it felt like they might be headed toward a more-than-friends relationship, but nothing happened other than dinner once a week, an occasional movie, and workouts at the gym. Being a doctor took a great deal of her time, and his job as a police detective was consuming as well.
Dark Side of Noon (Wind Dancer Book 2) Page 2