“Why don’t you let me ask the questions, Chief? Cleo knows me, and, clearly, she’s upset.”
Cleo smiled weakly at him and nodded a thank-you to the paramedic. “I’m okay, Jacque. You two are so protective.” She leaned against Wind Dancer who slipped an arm around her shoulders to hold her tight. “I saw you drive by. I tried to wave you down, but you kept going.”
“If you were prettier, I might have noticed. I keep telling you to get a makeover,” he said offhandedly as he cocked his head. Even though she pursed her lips in attitude, a smile still teased the corners of her mouth. Perez on the other hand appeared to want to jump in to her defense. “You’re a mess,” he added.
“The medicine man thinks she broke her wrist.” Wind Dancer raised his chin toward the paramedic, who also appeared to be Native American. The corner of his mouth turned up at the reference.
Cleo sucked up as much air as she could and stepped away from Wind Dancer in a flimsy show of bravery and calm. “Okay. Ask away. I know the drill. I didn’t really see anything. One minute, Abby was there. I tried to call you—oh, and by the way, clean up your voice mail box, will you? Anyway, it really was all of ten seconds I looked away. Turned around and she was gone. I called, and called,” she whimpered, “and all I found were her pink tennis shoes.”
Jacque didn’t usually get upset with this part of investigation because he never knew the victim or the story behind it. It was but one piece of the puzzle. But Cleopatra Sommers was his friend. He could feel his blood pressure spike at not being able to make her fear go away. She was a good person and could fix a gunshot wound while telling a gang banger to chill out or she’d kick his butt. Other than nearly losing Wind Dancer to another world, he’d never seen her this shaken.
“Did you see anyone?”
“Yes. No. I’m not sure. There was something moving in the brush. Big or maybe tall. It blended in with the surroundings so much, it could have been an animal. I thought I heard a guttural sound. There was a smell.”
“A smell?” It was Perez.
“Yes. Like spoiled meat. Or maybe the smell a dog gives off when it’s scared. Know what I mean?”
Perez nodded.
“Cleo, you managed to get out this far. Was something still following you?”
Marty, Abby’s father joined them. “It was me. I found Abby’s phone near the pavilion. Her initials are on that cover, so I knew it was hers. I left my truck at the pavilion because I thought Abby was nearby and might be in trouble. I hurried to the welcome center shack and thought I could see a person running then disappear around the curve. The shack was jarred open and ransacked. The extra set of keys to my truck were gone so I ran after this lady, thinking she’d broken in and stolen them.”
Cleo rested her sympathetic gaze on the distraught father. “That’s the weird part. I couldn’t get into the shack. I thought something was moving in the brush. So, I ran. I hoped I could get to my car.” She pointed to her knee where a portion of her jeans had been cut away from her knee. A large bandage now covered the area where she’d ripped it open. “I covered a lot of ground because the road went downhill. Once when I fell, I thought I noticed movement again.” Shaking her head, Cleo ran her hand through her hair to shove it away from her face.
“The same as you saw earlier near the pavilion?” It was Perez, who held up a hand for Jacque not to interrupt her.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I just wanted to run. It ran alongside me in the woods. I could feel it.”
“But it didn’t come out?” Jacque interjected.
“No. Then it stopped. I could see the entrance and I ran and ran and ran…” her voice trailed off as Wind Dancer took her hand and tugged her into his arms.
“I will find him.” Wind Dancer’s face showed a murderous rage that concerned Jacque.
“And what do you think you’ll do if you find him?” Perez snapped impatiently.
“Kill him,” he said without hesitation.
Perez shifted her attention from Wind Dancer to Jacque. Her frown spoke volumes.
“What he means, Chief Perez, is that he will make sure whoever this is will be brought to justice.”
Wind Dancer stiffened and squared his shoulders. “No, Jacque. That is not what I meant. He has taken a young girl, and a little boy, hurt the woman friend of the chief, and tried to do harm to Cleopatra. He is also responsible for the dead woman in the building where you study dead people. I mean to kill him.”
Marty came to stand next to the Pawnee. “I’ll help you do it.”
“Now let’s all calm down. You can’t go around without a plan. Marty, whoever broke in your ranger shack did so quickly, considering the amount of time between when Cleo was there and you arrived. How do you think the intruder got in?”
“Brute strength.”
“What does that mean?” the chief asked.
“The door was ripped off the hinges. The desk attached to the wall was also jerked out of the studs.”
“How is that even possible?” Jacque felt skeptical. He’d seen Wind Dancer do such things due to his unnatural strength which came from crossing over from his time, but for a human to do this? Not likely. “Didn’t you see anything?”
“No. All I saw was this lady here, running like a scared rabbit. Since I couldn’t use my truck, I went after her.” Jacque tilted his head and squinted his eyes at the ranger. Before he could ask another question, Marty continued. “And no, nothing followed her in the woods, but I wasn’t paying much attention to that, either. Anyone in these parts know we carry a weapon. My holster”—he laid a hand on it—“is clearly visible, as you can see. Whoever it was didn’t want to get their head shot off, I’m guessing.”
“If whoever it was took Abby, probably needed to get back to her, too,” Perez added offhandedly, then appeared to realize she sounded cold. She patted the man’s arm. “We’ll find her, Marty. Rescue is ready to go in. We got ten people. More are on their way.”
“I’m going, too,” he insisted, shaking off her hand.
“Wind Dancer and I’ll join in after we get Cleo checked out at the hospital. Or you can have one of your people take her,” Jacque informed the chief. “We can help.”
“Thanks. But no thanks. You’re not from around here and we don’t want two more tourists getting lost being a do-gooder.”
“Do-gooder?” Jacque barked. “We are probably worth more than ten of your best guys. You don’t know what my friend here is capable of,” he said, stretching an arm toward the still-disgruntled Pawnee.
“Careful you don’t break your arm patting yourself on the back, Detective Marquette,” Perez said flippantly.
“Excuse me, Chief Perez, but Jacque is right. Wind Dancer can find her. Please.” Cleo laid a hand on Jacque’s chest, which forced him to focus on her. “Besides, I’m a doctor. I can help out here. I’m fine.”
“No,” the chief fumed. She motioned for another officer. “Make sure these three get to the ER in town. The officer handed the chief a smashed phone. She motioned for him to show Cleo. “Guess one of our vehicles ran over your phone. Worthless now, I’m afraid.”
Wind Dancer bristled and pivoted toward the forests. “Chaveyo is near.”
Jacque pulled his weapon in anticipation, as did Perez, except hers was aimed at him.
Chapter 19
The girl opened her eyes and tried to understand what had happened. She felt soft, sandy soil squeeze between her toes as she pulled her knees toward her chest to hug them. A circle of sunlight poured through an opening in the ceiling. It was enough for her to realize she was in an underground kiva. How did she get here? She rubbed her temples frantically to recollect the events that brought her here.
Jumbled thoughts flooded her brain at first, until she began to piece them together.
Talking to the nice lady, Cleo.
Search for phone on ground.
Notice some dust on new shoes.
Bend down wipe away dust.
Stand and turn
to tell Cleo she’d meet her at the ranger shack.
Someone or something standing two inches in front of her.
Open mouth to scream at what she sees.
It lunges forward and covers her nose and mouth.
Smelly hands make her sick and feel limp.
Lifts her over shoulder and pulls off shoes.
Maybe moves toward woods but not sure because her eyes are heavy.
Abby stared up at the circle of light above her head. She couldn’t remember anything else. Had she been assaulted? Her clothes were intact, and there was no indication whoever took her had taken advantage of her while unconscious. But her midriff felt sore. Must be from being carried over its shoulder.
With an awkward wobble to stand, Abby moved under the light. She screamed for help, over and over while tears cascaded down her face, until her body shook with sobs. Then she remembered kivas always had a ladder to climb out. She moved around the circular wall and found nothing, except a hole near the backside, farthest away from the light. The stories told around a campfire in her childhood talked a lot about these holes.
Hopi Indians called them sipapu. They symbolized the portal where their ancient ancestors emerged to enter the present world. Modern-day Puebloans still used them for ceremonial purposes, although she’d never been to one. The campfire stories usually involved a wicked creature or other terrifying ideas coming out of the hole. One story was about Chaveyo.
What if the stories were true?
The chill of the kiva seeped into her arms and bare legs. The temperature down here was cool; probably why the Pueblo people had them. It protected them from the harsh summer sun. But where was this kiva located? How far was she from her car, her dad, and the park? Where was Cleo? Did she see this happen? Maybe she was looking for her or had found her dad to help. Unfortunately, it occurred to her, Cleo might have been taken, too. If so, no one would find her.
Sobs once again led her to cry out for help, to be heard, to give her hope of rescue.
But there was only silence.
Could she climb out?
She wiped the tears and snot away with her short sleeve. No one was coming for her. She had to try and escape. Hadn’t her dad taught her a lot of survival tricks in her sixteen and a half years? Between hiking, camping trips, and his boring nature lectures to tourists, surely something would get her out of this mess. Taking a deep breath, she stood beside the light pooling on the floor to observe the kiva.
The kiva appeared to be constructed of wooden logs, adobe, and stone. According to her dad, adobe used by Ancient Pueblo builders was made from water, dirt, and straw. The builders used stones to make the walls of each room that were covered with a layer of smooth adobe. This one must be old because the adobe had begun to flake off and no restoration had repaired it. Abby wondered if this kiva might be hidden or undiscovered. It seemed like every couple of years her dad got excited about a new discovery in one of the parks. Obviously, someone knew about this one.
With a momentary peek toward the sipapu hole, another disturbing thought occurred; maybe something else knew about this kiva. What just moved near it? Dust shifted up and down with a breeze that came down the light hole, followed by a moan. Terror blinded her as she grabbed at stones and pieces of wood that jutted out from the brittle adobe. She rushed to climb toward the light. Then she felt a light touch on the back of her leg.
~ ~ ~ ~
Jacque held up one hand in surrender and raised his chin in caution. “Hold on, Chief Perez. I’m not the problem here. Let’s just take a breath.”
“Then put your weapon away, Detective Marquette.”
He noticed movement in his peripheral vision. The situation now was a powder keg. Lowering his weapon, he felt someone from behind him reach for his weapon. At that same instant, Wind Dancer jerked up his arm under the young officer’s chin, sending him sprawling into a slide that a normal person shouldn’t be able to do. Before Perez could react, the Pawnee had also relieved her of the threat leveled at him.
“What the hell?” she stuttered, jumping away in bewilderment.
While Cleo rushed to the downed officer, Jacque grabbed the weapon out of Wind Dancer’s hand and returned it to Perez.
“Never try something like that against us again,” Jacque warned through clenched teeth. “He’s faster, smarter, and stronger than all of you put together. Just call the FBI friend you say I have and get him up to speed when you have time. In the meantime, I’d call those Feds in to handle this.”
“We don’t need the Feds for a missing kid,” she snapped.
Wind Dancer folded his arms across his chest. “She was taken. Not just missing.” He shifted his focus to the girl’s dad. “I can find her. Let me try before it too late.”
“Chief Perez, what could it hurt? It’s already three o’clock. We need to get out there.” He pivoted and ran to join the last two search and rescue volunteers entering the park.
Jacque turned to his friend. “Do you still smell him?”
“No. He run away. Big steps. Gone now.”
Perez slipped her weapon into her holster and waited for him to do the same. “Wind Dancer, if you ever try a trick like that again, I’ll shoot you.”
“If I try a trick like that again, you will not have time to shoot me.” Her eyes narrowed at him, but he only narrowed his eyes backs, unconcerned at the threat. “You are lucky this time.”
Perez opened her mouth to speak, but Jacque took her by the elbow and led her away from the confrontation she would not win. After about ten feet, she dug her heels in and shook him off.
“Is he for real? How did he do that? What are you not telling me?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Now if I were you, I’d get those FBI guys who handle abductions here ASAP and have them take charge. I figure this is a serial killer…”
Perez’s phone lit up in her pants pocket. Before she retrieved it, he received a disgruntled frown that caused her lips to snarl. She listened and occasionally nodded with the comment, “interesting” or “you’re sure about this?” When she turned toward Wind Dancer, who now helped the downed officer to his feet for Cleo to check out, Jacque felt a sick feeling well up inside him.
“Tonya is awake,” Perez said matter-of-factly.
“That’s good. Was she able to give information about what happened?”
She put her hand on the holster and started tapping with her index finger before making eye contact with Jacque. “Yeah. She said an Indian with incredible strength and speed attacked her. Remind you of anyone?”
Chapter 20
Abby screamed at the feathery touch and grabbed at a handhold to pull herself up, but her foot slipped. The weight affected her grip on the log jutting out from the adobe. Her legs dangled only a second before she readjusted her footing and fought to reach the top. Hot breath moved against the bend of her knees as she cried out in horror. Once more, a gentle touch but sharp like a long fingernail or claw, traced her leg from the one knee to her ankle.
Reaching into the light with every ounce of strength she had left, Abby used her elbows to help give her leverage and her feet to push against the inside of the kiva wall.
Once she’d crawled out onto her stomach, she wasted no time in staggering to her feet. Without looking back, she ran like a lopsided dog with three legs. The rocks, sticks, and holes tore at her feet, but she didn’t stop. Once, she fell forward, but a tree stopped her from hitting the ground. It was hard to breathe in afternoon heat and fear. Now, she dared search the area behind her, but no one was there.
A crow cawed and flew from the branches of a tree, startling her. It was a warning. She knew she had to keep moving in spite of not having a clue to where she’d been taken. Nothing appeared familiar. With a reluctant shove away from the tree, she turned to head into the woods when something loomed up in front of her.
A scream tried to escape her mouth, but a hand silenced her.
~ ~ ~ ~
Jacque kne
w Wind Dancer was aware of the conversation. Early on, when he’d crossed over through a hole in a parallel universe, he soon realized the man had very sensitive hearing. This was true of most of his senses. Along with an increase of strength and agility, Wind Dancer moved faster than seemed humanly possible. It wasn’t like one of those superhero kinds of fast. Just really fast.
He’d once asked the Pawnee if this gift was also true in his world and he admitted he was ordinary. However, compared to modern man, he would have been considered exceptional. In the 1800s, men of all colors were tougher. Cleo said it had to do with no processed foods and more physical exercise. Although they may not have lived longer due to health care and incurable disease, overall, people appeared to survive things today’s world might find difficult.
Wind Dancer lowered his chin and gazed at him through hooded eyes that sent a chill up his spine. There were many things the Pawnee didn’t understand about the twenty-first century, but placing the blame on a tribal man, he understood very well. Jacque wanted to end this line of reasoning as quickly as possible before Wind Dancer put his foot in his mouth.
“Maybe the man who attacked Tonya and took the little boy was from a local tribe. Ever think about that? And keep in mind, it was dark.”
“She had a flashlight on before he knocked it out of her hand,” Perez reminded him.
“Doesn’t mean it was Wind Dancer. Besides, he found them and brought them back. If she got a bump on the head, her recollection could be fuzzy. And remember, we were all together when this local girl disappeared. Then there’s the dead driver over there.” The young man, covered in a white sheet, was being loaded into an ambulance. “And you’ve got another body of a girl in the morgue.”
Chief Perez continued to evaluate Wind Dancer and took a step in his direction when Jacque cut her off. “Get out of my way,” she growled through gritted teeth.
Dark Side of Noon (Wind Dancer Book 2) Page 12