Every muscle appeared to tightened and release as he stood spraddle-legged with his saber still held toward her.
“Tuuhikya,” she choked out and patted her chest. “Tuuhikya,” she repeated softly and clumsily tried to stand tall.
The Chaveyo, if she remembered her father’s teachings correctly, respected healers as did most tribal people. There were times the Chaveyo was summoned to find the person who didn’t walk the Hopi way and would confront him. Now that she’d been confronted with that sharp saber, she could only imagine how ancient people might have responded.
Lowering his saber, the Chaveyo moved to the opposite side of the fire and sat down cross-legged. The struggle to refrain from crying and begging to be set free overwhelmed her. Instead, she sat down, cross-legged and waited patiently, maybe to die. But nothing happened.
Now here she was, unsure of her location or how long she’d been asleep. A glow of pink covered the entrance hole in the ceiling, indicating the sun was rising. A piece of wood sat near her with a pile of pinon nuts. She gobbled them down, knowing they were healthy and provided the energy she needed. A turtle shell held water. She gulped, realizing the fire had parched her. The throbbing in her wrist made her feel drunk from pain.
Since there were pinon nuts, she had to be at an altitude of 4000 feet. She remembered one year her father had taken her up in the mountains, along with several graduate students. When they reached 6000 feet, one of the students became ill. He kept saying it was the pinon nuts they ate, but after getting him to the hospital, he suffered from altitude sickness, not the pinon nuts. The experience gave her an interest in native plants and medicines.
She rubbed her wrist and cradled it in her good hand.
A sound came from the dark side of the kiva, revealing Chaveyo had been there all along. This time, instead of a saber in his hand, he carried part of a yucca plant with exposed roots and dropped it next to her. Was this a test to see if she were indeed a healer?
Carefully she examined the roots even though it had been years since she’d used plants for healing. She knew how important herbal remedies had been to the Hopi and Pueblo. It had been said these tribes now suffered health problems because they no longer depended on the old ways.
Cleo met the monster’s wide eyes and shivered. “Thank you, Chaveyo. I can mash the roots to make a poultice, but I need more water.” She lifted the turtle shell. “I will use it for my wrist.” She lifted it to show him the bandaged area. “I will make enough for us both.”
There was no way she could be sure if he was suffering from pain, arthritis, or a blood disorder. But if he was, this might help. It certainly would ease her pain. Maybe he would begin to trust her and remove the hideous mask.
With the grace of a ninety-year-old using a walker, Cleo grunted as she rose to her feet and was amazed at how gigantic the ogre stood. Then she realized, after staring up into his face—it wasn’t a mask.
Chapter 28
After Jacque had a chance to stretch out his legs and downed a second cup of coffee, he managed to rid himself of the hobble he displayed from his injuries. Even the slight swagger returned to give the appearance of confidence. Much to his relief, the rabies test on the Chupacabra proved negative. At least now he could focus on finding Cleo.
Once at the quarry, with Perez driving, the three of them joined the last of the firefighters checking to make sure no sparks still existed. Since the quarry was near Kewa Corner, one of their local cops had arrived on scene.
He was a stout fellow with dark skin and close-set eyes. Even though he wore a hat, the obvious short haircut gave him a military vibe. Standing to the side with an out-of-gear stance, hands on hips, and chewing gum, he reminded Jacque of one of those stereotypical cops from movies that no one liked. All this guy needed was a pair of sunglasses which he, no surprise, pulled from the front pocket of his shirt and placed on his long, hawk-like nose.
“Perez.” He nodded then raised his chin as if examining Jacque and Wind Dancer.
“Jimmy,” she chuckled. “I see you got some of those fancy glasses they advertise on TV. Isn’t that what the SEALS wear? You know they make you look ridiculous, right?”
Way to put him in his place right off the bat, Perez, Jacque thought.
His bottom lip contorted at the insult, and he tried to change the subject. “Who are they?”
Perez smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Chicago PD. Have some experience with the nonsense going on around here. I asked them to put their two cents worth in since you seem to have your hands full directing traffic for the solar eclipse today.” It was yet another jab at his usefulness.
“Detective Jacque Marquette,” he said extending his hand. Jimmy hesitated but did finally reach out and clasp his hand with a firm squeeze. “My partner, Joseph Wind Dancer.”
Wind Dancer did not extend his hand but arched a menacing eyebrow at the local cop.
“Anyone inside the car, Jimmy?” Perez took a step toward the truck before turning back as an afterthought to the younger officer.
“Nope. But I recognize the truck. Belongs to that stupid kid who works at the garage. Everyone calls him Tinker. Pulled him over just a week ago for speeding. Doesn’t have enough sense to wad a shotgun. Took my car in for an oil change not long ago, and he dropped the oil pan, spilling it everywhere, including on the boss.” He laughed at this. “You never heard such language.”
By the condition of the vehicle, there wouldn’t be anything left inside. Jacque noticed, when he went to take a closer inspection, that even the tires had melted.
“Chief Perez, we’re going to check out where the truck came off the road, if that’s okay with you?” Jacque wanted Jimmy to understand he didn’t mind working with a woman cop.
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll pick you up in a couple of minutes after I check all this out.”
Jacque nodded to Jimmy and saluted the couple of firefighters who took note of them as they walked out of the quarry.
“See here?” Wind Dancer said as they walked the road at the top. It wasn’t difficult to figure out where the truck went off since tracks led there. “Tire slipped off the road then went over.”
Jacque backtracked about ten feet and took out his phone to take a picture. “Stopped here. Then got out. See? Slight footprint. Maybe the toe of a boot.” Jacque followed the path to the drop-off to the quarry below. “I think the car was pushed over. My money is on this being the one that hit us.”
“Front of truck smashed.”
“Yeah. Whoever drove it thought going over the edge would bang it up enough to look like it happened here on impact.” He turned and walked to the tracks. “Wasn’t much left of those tires, but from what remained appeared to be bald, just like the ones where our accident happened.”
Wind Dancer studied the ground. “Tracks look like bald tires.”
Perez joined them in the car, careful to park a ways from the spot of interest. She had on her strobe in case another car came along. “We have this blocked off about a half mile down the road in each direction. This road is used mostly by locals. All those tourists and Syfy geeks won’t come this way, but in case anyone gets off track, that should turn them away. Find anything?”
Jacque pointed at the tracks and the toe print. “I think someone got out here.”
“Figured as much,” she said. “The gear shift, although melted, was in the neutral position. Besides, there was no body inside the vehicle. Maybe we can talk to our guy in custody. Ready to go? We’ll let Jimmy manage this.” She chuckled. “Thanks for back there.”
Jacque knew she referred to giving her respect in front of Jimmy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think she means—” Wind Dancer started, until Jacque leveled a shut-up frown. “I should not speak.”
“Right,” he said in a slow drawn-out tone.
~ ~ ~ ~
Little activity at the police station meant either the available police and staff were at the designated locat
ions for optimal eclipse viewing or hadn’t checked in yet. Perez voiced concern that their small town, along with Kewa Corner, would not be big enough for the crazies expected to pour in. The number of people had swelled overnight, and the RVs had created a small city in the Walmart parking lot.
The night before had taken on the appearance of a college tailgate party with the grills full of brats, burgers, and steaks, country music playing at full volume, and a great deal of flag waving. Although the most trouble expected was fender benders, food poisoning, and a lost dog, Perez canceled anyone’s time off or vacation for the next few days. Besides, with the missing little boy and now Abby, their rescue services might be running on fumes.
It worried Jacque that Cleo would not get 100 percent of what was needed to find her. Although the sun was barely up and only a few locals could be seen leaving the café where they’d had lunch the day before, he considered one of those RVs might be something more than an eclipse fan. These kinds of events were perfect opportunities to snatch people off the street and, next thing you knew, your loved one was in some hellhole in a third world country with a needle in their arm and being abused until they gave up hope or died.
“Let’s do this. We want to get out there and find Cleo. We’re wasting time.”
The lady at the reception desk wore her gray hair in a bun on her neck. She reminded Jacque of a character from reruns of The Andy Griffith Show. He wondered if the tough old girl carried a gun on her thick waist. However, the smile she greeted them with put him at ease.
“Mansi is waiting for you. He’s in the conference room. Not happy to be dragged away from the inn. Busy time. Don’t expect him to be all warm and fuzzy.” She rolled her eyes toward, what Jacque imagined, was where they’d be headed. “Made fresh coffee about ten minutes ago. Already gave him a cup. Help yourself, boys.” She again leveled a wide, toothy smile at them.
“Mansi? What about Alo? I thought that’s who was brought in?” Perez’s voice took on that what-the-hell tone.
“Don’t know anything about that. I think they’re out searching for him now.”
“Alo? What’s going on?” Jacque butted in.
“Mansi’s son. Abby has been in and out of consciousness, what with the sedative she was given. She kept saying Alo over and over. Tonya roused for a few seconds and said giant. That’s Alo.”
Jacque remembered what Cleo had told him about Marfan syndrome and how it affects the body. He couldn’t imagine in this day and age of NBA players that anyone would think an overly tall man would be unusual or a monster, for that matter.
The conference door was ajar. A man sat staring out the window. Hunched shoulders, a shirt that needed pressing, and a crooked tie gave Mansi Garcia a humble appearance. He hadn’t touched his coffee. When they entered, he jumped to his feet and paced.
“Do you know how many people I have at the inn today? Or how shorthanded I am?”
“I’m very sorry, Mansi. We have a problem. Where is your son?”
“I don’t know. He took off yesterday, and I haven’t seen him. I looked for him last night.”
Jacque extended his hand and introduced himself then Wind Dancer. “I’m a friend of Cleo Sommers. She stayed at your inn. You were kind enough to bring her out to us last night.”
Mansi nodded and smashed his lips together so tightly, it made his brow crease.
Jacque continued. “She thought maybe you saw him last night. You were talking to someone in the dark. Remember?”
“She was mistaken. Where is she? And what does my son have to do with anything?”
Wind Dancer stepped forward in his usual menacing way and growled a reply. “A tall man took her from me. If harm comes to Cleo, I will kill him.”
Jacque shoved Mansi aside, the innkeeper’s face whitened in shock. His eyelids fluttered as if the fear could be covered. “My partner and Cleo are close.” Jacque smiled at Mansi. “He isn’t as understanding as I am. I just want to be sure you and your son get a fair shake.”
Before Jacque could stop him, Wind Dancer grabbed Mansi by the front of the shirt and shook him violently. It took both him and Perez to pull him off. The Pawnee’s face had gone red. With flaring nostrils and bulging eyes, he’d put the fear of God in the man.
Jacque put his palms on Wind Dancer’s chest and shoved him up against the wall. “What the hell, Wind Dancer?”
“I give him a fair shake,” he yelled.
Jacque sighed and pinched the top of his nose as his eyes closed. When would he learn not to say things that could be misconstrued by an angry Pawnee from the 1800s. “You! Stay put. I mean it. This is no way to find Cleo. Got it?” The heavy breathing continued as the Pawnee leveled a steely glare at Mansi, warning more trouble brewed. “Wind Dancer? Got it?”
The Pawnee finally nodded and crossed his arms across his chest, a clear sign that he would wait for further directions. “I wait short time. No more. He should talk now.”
Perez turned her attention to Mansi. “Sorry about that, Mansi.”
“Sorry? I’m going to file a complaint,” he snapped, raising a fist at Wind Dancer.
Perez tilted her head and tried to straighten Mansi’s shirt then patted his chest. “Now, Mansi, it was a misunderstanding. We’re in a tight spot here. We need to talk to your son. That girl, Abby, kept saying Alo’s name over and over. Seems to me he might know something about what happened to her. Simple as that. Come on. You and I have always been friends.”
He slapped her hand away and leveled a finger near her nose. “No,” he growled.
Before Jacque could bat an eye, Perez grabbed his finger and brought him to his knees with a bang. “Don’t touch me, Mansi. I might get the wrong idea.” She applied pressure until he whimpered.
Wind Dancer stepped forward and cocked his head at Jacque. “Is this fair shake?”
Jacque grinned. “Maybe better.”
Chapter 29
How long had Chaveyo been gone? Time would stand still if it weren’t for the light growing brighter in the exit hole. After saying she needed more water, he’d disappeared by climbing a ladder he’d stored in the dark area of the kiva. When he reached the top, Cleo held her breath, hoping he might leave it and go on his way. That hope was dashed when he pulled it up so slowly, it appeared to float.
To pass the time, she crushed the yucca roots with the ax he’d left next to the piece of wood where she’d found the pinon nuts. The next activity, while there was still enough light from the fire, was to search the kiva. The sipapu, or hole in the floor, was the portal where the ancient ancestors first emerged to this world.
As a little girl, these stories her father had shared with her had both terrified and thrilled Cleo. This hole measured larger in diameter than the ones she’d seen over the years. Could Chaveyo have emerged from that hole? What would have happened if she’d fallen all the way inside? Why did he prevent her from doing that?
The ancient Pueblo builders used stones to make the walls of each kiva and then were covered with a layer of smooth adobe. This one had a lot of the adobe missing. She wasn’t sure what it meant. Could she climb out without killing herself? It didn’t appear to be all that deep. The Chaveyo had to stoop over to walk unless he stood in the middle of the kiva. Then again, Cleo realized she had only one hand that worked well enough to haul her body upward. It would take all four limbs to escape.
A wave of helplessness washed over her. Fear, mixed with the pain in her wrist, clouded any thought of survival. Tears flowed down her cheeks. Then she remembered how Wind Dancer’s sense of hearing intensified when he crossed over from his universe.
“Wind Dancer,” she screamed. “Wind Dancer. Wind Dancer. Help me! I need you. Wind Dancer!” Over and over until her voice grew gravelly and raw. “Wind Dancer,” she whispered. “I know you’re there. I love you. I don’t want to die here. Wind Dancer, please.”
The light from the exit hole disappeared, except for a halo effect. Cleo took a step back and squinted up at the dark s
hadow blocking out the dappled sunlight. A large hand reached down and wiggled its fingers.
She sniffed before dragging her nose across her upper arm and gawked at the hand. Where were the Chaveyo’s leather gloves? Curiosity got the best of her until she moved closer and used her two fingers to touch the rough palm, now spread open, as if waiting. The flesh felt warm. Once more, her attention went upward. At the same time, she began to withdraw her fingers, the hand snapped shut, like a vise, around her good hand. Her screams and struggle did nothing to release the upward momentum of her body.
~ ~ ~ ~
The door opened to the conference room just enough for the woman at the front desk to stick her head in. Her attention went to Mansi struggling to get in the chair as Perez gently assisted and smiled at the intruder.
“Yes, Barb?” Her voice, sweet and calm, left no room for suspicion of rough play.
“Some city slicker out here says he’s from the FBI. Asked for those two.” She tilted her head at Jacque and Wind Dancer.
“Send him to my office. We’ll be right there. Could you bring Mansi one of those Danish rolls I spotted in the break room?”
Mansi snarled, “I don’t want any…” His voice faded when Perez leveled a steely-eyed glare of contempt. “I mean, thanks. That would be nice.”
The corner of Perez’s mouth turned up as one eyebrow arched. “I’ll be back in a minute, Mansi. Be ready to tell me what I want to hear.” Before he could respond, she guided them to her office.
“Remind me not to piss you off, Perez.” Jacque opened the door to her office for them.
Wind Dancer slapped him on the back, causing him to stagger at the strength. “I will remember for you. I wouldn’t want her to hurt you, too. You aren’t very strong.”
Dark Side of Noon (Wind Dancer Book 2) Page 17