Dark Side of Noon (Wind Dancer Book 2)

by Tierney James

  The father had given him free rein years ago, and other than Floyd Miller, and the garage and repair shop job, it was the only stability he’d ever had. If anyone would be upset, it would be Floyd. Everyone knew he threatened to fire the kid but never had. Guess he felt sorry for him.

  Both communities shared services: hospital clinic, repair shops, towing, fire and rescue, and other services. They even shared the school district which was about four hundred square miles. The population of the entire school system was no more than fifteen hundred kids, K-12. Sports teams brought both communities closer in more ways than one. People were used to driving a long distance for almost everything. It was nothing for Perez to make a trip to Santa Fe once a month to restock her pantry, shop the bigger stores, and eat at a restaurant that had something besides a hamburger and greasy fries.

  Then there was the FBI agent on his way. Chances were good he’d breeze in and disrupt her people and keep them from getting the job done. It would be that, or he’d take the credit for finding the girl. Pueblo, Colorado wasn’t far, maybe four, five hours at most, provided traffic and weather behaved.

  She took note of Jacque and Wind Dancer as they exited their car. The detective wasn’t a bad-looking guy, and why that even crossed her mind disturbed her. Being a cop, she didn’t meet many men who didn’t feel threatened by her position or personality. The last date she’d had was eight months ago with a high school math teacher from Santa Fe. There were no sparks or talk of another encounter, making her not eager to put forth the effort again.

  The Chicago detective was certainly not a yes guy and pretty quick to bomb her with his advice and smart-ass remarks. Any other time, she might find him interesting enough to begin a flirtatious move. Clearly, he wasn’t a slave to fashion with his five-year-old mismatched clothes and the attempt at camper cool, with the khaki-colored vest and safari hat. The fact his nearly six-foot frame appeared toned and his hard jawline hinted of a five-o’clock shadow, made her wonder how it might feel to slide her finger from his ear down to his firm lips that frowned more than smiled. Those attentive eyes had appraised her when they first met, and felt surprise when she experienced a slight warmth move up her body. She guessed the unfamiliarity of that sensation caught her off guard, forcing her to keep him on a short leash laced with threats and accusations.

  That didn’t appear to be working.

  As to the Pawnee, she wasn’t sure what to make of him. Other than being taller than most of the local tribes around here, he wasn’t remarkable, except for his uncommon quickness, strength, and lack of understanding for the English language. When she had time, she planned to investigate further to discover exactly what he did in Chicago. Why did the FBI have a gag order on how much anyone close to him could say? The way he leveled a sinister observation of her, and the surroundings, gave him a dangerous vibe. With the long black hair, pouty mouth, and eyes too dark to read, Perez wondered if he was even human. Maybe he was an escaped experiment from one of those science labs at Los Alamos. Who knew what really went on there anyway? However, Dr. Cleo Sommers had taken his comfort eagerly with an obvious romantic involvement from the way they embraced.

  No accounting for taste, she guessed.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  “She is eyeballing us like she might serve us up for dinner on a barbeque spit, Wind Dancer.” Jacque slowed his pace and spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “Let me do the talking.”

  “You always talking. And she is eyeballing you, not me.”

  Jacque halted and gave his friend a bewildered, “Say what?”

  “She is giving you what Cleo calls bedroom eyes.” Wind Dancer’s eyebrows lifted slightly as he shifted his gaze between Jacque and Perez.

  He couldn’t help but roll his neck to pop then pulled his shoulders back to hide his tired body. It’d been a long time since a woman showed any interest in him, and this one reminded more of a hungry piranha than a woman with a romantic interest. But hell, what did he know about women. She was feisty and a looker, both admirable attributes in his book. It wasn’t like he had a long checklist for the women he wanted to date.

  “Keep that observation to yourself, huh, buddy. She’s probably on women’s lib overload and wouldn’t appreciate that kind of talk.”

  The Pawnee nodded then gave him a thumbs-up as they closed the distance between them.

  “How’s your friend? You weren’t gone long?”

  “We left her in capable hands. Agent Farrentino will stop by and pick her up on his way here.” Jacque surveyed the area when an ambulance pulled in to an already crowded entrance and parking lot. Two guys exited the vehicle and joined them. They were the same ones from last night. They nodded recognition and addressed the chief.

  “Any word yet?”

  “No. Not a trace. Nothing.”

  “Let us help. Where can we be the most help?” Jacque asked.

  “I don’t know. Chicago, maybe?” she snapped, making the two ambulance drivers chuckle.

  “Funny,” Jacque moaned.

  Wind Dancer’s forehead furrowed. “Then why aren’t you laughing, Jacque? Is it another double meaning?”

  “Yes. Double meaning.”

  “You should not talk to Jacque in this way if you want him to return your interest. Is the women’s lib overload making you rude?” Wind Dancer folded his arms across his chest.

  “Excuse me?” she growled. “Where did you get that idea?”

  He pointed to her eyes, but before he could explain, Jacque weighed in and moved his friend toward the entrance. “You wait over here. Keep your mouth shut,” he warned then turned to Perez. “Sorry about that. He leaves a lot to be desired in the subtle department.” He turned to make sure the Pawnee wasn’t going to weigh in again. But he appeared to be searching the ground for something. “For some reason, he thinks you and I would make a good match.”

  “So, is he mentally challenged or an escapee from the mental ward?”

  “You don’t have to get testy, Perez. I’m well aware you and me would be like gas on a fire.” She arched an eyebrow at his comparison. “Then again—”

  “Oh, shut up.” She grinned even though her voice came out irritated. “Do you have a map? I don’t want to have to come search for you, too.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  For whatever reason, Mansi turned on the car air-conditioning, rolled down his window about three inches, and lit up a cigarette. It had been a long time since she’d ridden in a car that didn’t have power windows. The ashtray was overflowing and left a putrid smell clinging to the air. It reminded her of body odor. The little flat Christmas tree swinging from the mirror probably gave up the pine smell days ago or maybe just refused to keep trying. Tessa aimed the air vent toward her face even though she was cold.

  Darkness felt thick enough to cut with a knife. She guessed if the inside of the windshield were cleaner, she would be able to spot stars. The number of curves in the road required Mansi to slow down, although he was already using an abundance of caution. When he jabbed out the cigarette, he took his eyes off the road long enough to make her nervous.

  Then something huge loped across the road.

  “What was that?” she cried, placing her hands on her chest at the same time he slammed on the brakes.

  With wide eyes, he stared ahead for a few seconds, gulped, then turned his head toward her. “I didn’t see anything.”

  Chapter 23

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Cleo asked when Mansi carefully put the car in park. The car continued its quiet hum when he turned off the air conditioner. The immediate waft of cigarettes butts choked her. The wounded left wrist rested on the console. She tried rolling down the window but only managed halfway down before a pain shot up her knee from the applied pressure.

  Mansi exited the car and closed the creaky door, tipping Cleo to the fact she’d stepped into a horror movie which screamed, “Don’t leave the car!” Bad things always happen about this time in a horror movie. His window was still cr
acked enough for him to lean down and speak through the opening.

  “Lock the doors. I’ll only be a minute.”

  “No. Wait.”

  A long, slow exhale escaped his lungs as he looked over his shoulder then to her. “If I’m not back in ten minutes, take the car to Sunset Rock.”

  “Aren’t we almost to the park entrance? Let’s go get help. Lots of police there. My friend is a detective. We can come back if you think that, whatever it was, might be what we’re looking for.”

  “Probably an animal.”

  “It ran on two legs. What animal does that?”

  “Ten minutes. Then go.”

  Before she could continue to protest, he disappeared across the road and into the abyss of darkness that swallowed up her surroundings. Having a window rolled down more than halfway now felt like a bad idea. Once more, she reached her good hand over and started the round and round movement to close it when something reached in and touched her hair.

  The scream came from deep inside her gut as she jerked away from the window in time to see a bony hand with extra-long fingers retract. As she finished closing the window, a wide shadow moved around the rear of the car, trying each door handle for entrance. She popped the seat belt and tried to find the magic spot to activate the horn. When the first blast exploded the quiet night, the figure stopped moving. She twisted around to try and see whomever or whatever it was when it lumbered off.

  Cleo realized she was panting with terror. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but her resolve kicked in, much like it had in those days when a Chicago gang had taken her as a hostage and forced her to steal drugs. Up until that moment, she had never experienced such fear. Now, again the unknown lurked in the darkness draining her of courage.

  Was this another one of those things that could cross over from a parallel universe? Could there be a Pueblo myth which was activated by the impending solar eclipse tomorrow? Growing up in the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago had led her to believe a great many things about culture, science, and the impossible. Wind Dancer was proof of that.

  She fumbled in the dark to try and find the headlights Mansi extinguished when he put the car in park. The switch was almost out of reach. Fortunately, she knew where it should be since it was a Chevy. All her cars had been a General Motors car, so the switch would be in a similar location.

  Reaching across the console, Cleo felt she’d transformed into a contortionist but managed to switch on the lights. The darkness ripped open the night as the light burst across the road. At least if a car came along, they wouldn’t run over her. But her attention caught sight of Mansi standing on the edge of the road, shaking his finger at something then throwing his hands upward, as if in frustration. He extended his hand toward the car then to whomever he was talking to.

  Who was he talking to? Why didn’t Mansi look concerned?

  He waved off with an irritated hand gesture and stormed toward the car. When he grabbed the locked doorhandle, Cleo considered not opening it. He leaned down and glowered at her, his face contorted with rage.

  “Open. The. Door.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Jacque and Wind Dancer followed a trail already covered by the rescue team. However, since other missing people had later showed up in places already covered, it seemed logical for them to retrace those same trails. Both men carried flashlights, but Jacque knew that his partner’s built-in night vision would make a Navy SEAL envious. Since this whole mess creeped the hell out of him, Jacque knew his partner had the light on to reassure him, just like he had with the little boy.

  “This is the way Abby went.”

  “How do you know?” They had stopped to let their heartbeat slow down after a strenuous climb. “Do you smell her?” It was yet another gift the Pawnee acquired when he crossed over to this time.

  “Yes.” He picked up a bracelet and sniffed. “I think this is hers. There are words on it.”

  Jacque shined his light on the leather and silver bracelet with Abby in cursive script, from Mom and Dad. “Yep. Hers all right.” He removed his backpack and took out two bottles of water then shoved the bracelet inside. “I’m beat. I’m not sure how much longer I can go on. We’ve been up almost twenty-four hours.”

  “We should sleep here. Safe for now.” He sat down on a fallen log and surveyed the ground.

  “I’m not sleeping in pine needles or anything else you think is normal because, buddy, it ain’t normal.” Jacque waved his flashlight to create light patterns dancing across the ground. “For all I know, there is one of those rattlesnakes waiting to get his daily quota.”

  “There are many snakes in this park.”

  “How do you know that?” He finished his water. “Let me guess. You hear them plotting to come after us.”

  Wind Dancer gave a thin smile and tossed a rock in the brush near the trail’s edge near Jacque’s feet. The Pawnee’s laughter burst through the stillness as Jacque yelped and jumped toward the Pawnee.

  “Not funny, Wind Dancer,” he snapped. “I probably need a change of clothes now.”

  Caution set in as Wind Dancer slowly stood up and stared into the abyss of darkness. He held a finger to his lips and motioned for Jacque to extinguish the light. Both men hunkered down and waited. A breeze stirred the treetops for a few seconds then a deathly quiet and stillness wrapped around them.

  Jacque laid a hand on his weapon, and a sense of security eased his rapid pulse. Whatever was out there, he didn’t require Pawnee sensitivity to experience a chill coming up his spine. He hunkered down, shoulder to shoulder with his partner, and thought he felt a shiver in the man. That couldn’t be a good sign. Usually, Wind Dancer didn’t appear to be afraid of anything. He placed a hand on Jacque’s shoulder.

  “Chaveyo?” Jacque whispered.

  “No. Something just as bad.” He pulled his knife from the sheath he wore on his belt. “Get ready. Coming for us.”

  A thunderous movement of snapping twigs and brush approached. The growling and breathing reminded Jacque of an air compressor about to give up the ghost. A dark shape the size of a bear lunged through the trees with the scream resembling a wounded animal.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Mansi leaned down closer to the cracked window and cast a leery eye over his shoulder. “Hurry, Ms. Sommers.”

  Whether it was his tight voice or the glazed expression on his face, Cleo, with a trembling hand, managed to unlock the doors. As soon as it opened, she punched the lock again to seal them in safely. He put the car in drive and eased forward with no sign of trepidation.

  “Who were you talking to?” she demanded. Reaching up to her hair with her good hand, she attempted to touch the spot she’d felt a feathery touch.

  “No one. I was—”

  “Then why all the hand gestures and the angry voice?”

  “Just trying to scare the evil spirits away.”

  “You can’t be serious. Do you really think I would believe…?” When Mansi turned cold eyes on her, she hushed.

  “There are things in these mountains and parks you know nothing of. Tomorrow will be a solar eclipse. You should stay inside.”

  “Inside? Why?”

  “You would not understand. But the Pueblo people say to stay inside and keep babies away from the windows, to be mindful. We have to wear something sharp.”

  “I believe more than you think about the ways of Native people. I will be careful.”

  The car slowed again. “Good.”

  “Something reached in the window and touched me when you left the car.”

  “If no harm came to you, then you have nothing to fear now.”

  Lights flashed ahead and Cleo could only guess that they were at the entrance to Kewa National Park. Mansi drove into a small space on the edge of what was left of the parking area. He jumped out and ran around the car to help her out since she struggled to open the door. The touch of his rough hand felt clammy when he assisted her out of the car.

  “Thank you, Mansi. Come meet my
friends.”

  He walked around the front of the car and shook his head. “I have to find my son.”

  “Was that him you were talking to?”

  “Good luck, Ms. Sommers. And remember to stay away from windows tomorrow.”

  In seconds, he got inside the car and pulled onto the road. She watched him disappear into the darkness.

  She spotted Chief Perez listening to her walkie-talkie. The pinched brow and downturned mouth hardened her face. One of the paramedics joined her and listened in.

  “What’s going on, Chief?” Cleo sensed she wasn’t going to like the answer.

  “It’s your friends. They’re in trouble.”

  Chapter 24

  Gunshots came across the radio, mixed with growling and what sounded like a scuffle.

  “Anyone there?”

  Chief Perez’s voice, now tight and loud, spoke into the radio as the paramedics rushed to the ambulance and returned with, what appeared to be, rifles. After they checked to see if they were loaded, they stood stiff-legged, cradling their weapons.

  “Officers in trouble. I repeat. Officers in trouble. Last check-in on Carson Trail near Moonlight Overlook. Anyone. Need response.”

  The radio crackled to life. “On our way, Chief. Almost there,” came an out-of-breath voice. “What the—”

  Silence.

  “Are you there? Over.”

  “Chief, you aren’t going to believe this.”

  Cleo tried to grab the radio away from Perez, but she jerked it away and shoved a hand in her chest. “Back off, Doc.” She raised the radio to speak again. “Status?”

  The radio crackled with static and the chief had to repeat the instructions.

  “We’re on our way in. That detective friend of yours is hurt, but his partner is okay—I think. He’s carrying…well, you won’t believe it. Too big for us to carry.”