If Darci worked the community angle, and Abby and I worked on Jason and his crew, we might learn more, and faster.
The image of a ticking clock flashed through my mind.
I skidded to a stop, pulling Darci around. “Okay, do you promise,” I said, shaking my finger at her, “and I mean promise, that you’ll only ask questions? And at the first sign of trouble, you’ll back off?”
“Of course,” she replied with a toss of her head.
I put my hands on my hips and stared at her. “Darci?”
“Oh all right. I promise.” She lifted a hand to her chest. “Cross my heart and hope to—”
I held up my hand to stop her. “Don’t—”
“—die.”
“—say it,” I finished in a whisper.
Thirteen
Darci and I were about a hundred yards from the cabin when a figure in fatigues crashed out of the woods to our right. Surprised, Darci grabbed my arm.
Duane Hobbs. His orange hair stuck up all over his head, with little pieces of wood and leaves caught in the tangles. He whipped his head from side to side, searching up and down the lane for something. Spying us, he zeroed in. “Where is she?” he yelled.
I took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. “Who?”
“That snot-nosed kid, the one that lives with the groupies across the lake. The one that’s friends with the Indian.”
Tink, he obviously meant Tink. So she was a friend of Walks Quietly? Interesting.
“Why do you want to know?”
From the corner of my eye I saw Darci glare at me as she gripped my arm tighter.
Duane took a step closer to us. “You know where she is?”
Simultaneously, Darci and I stepped back. “No, no we don’t,” she said, rushing into the conversation. “We don’t know where she is.” She shook my arm. “Do we, Ophelia?”
Ignoring her, my eyes never left Duane Hobbs. “You didn’t answer my question,” I said, sounding braver than I felt. “Why do you want to find her? And what will you do to her if you do?”
A nasty grin, showing yellow teeth, spread across his face. With a practiced move, he spit a stream of tobacco at our feet. “I just want to tell her to quit spying on me.”
“She spies on you?”
Darci’s fingers pinched my arm.
“Yeah, she spies on me. It’s not nice to spy on people. Bad things can happen.”
I stepped forward, dragging Darci with me. “Are you threatening to harm her?”
His voice cackled with a rusty laugh. “’Course not. But look what happened to that other girl.” He turned back toward the woods. “The one with the red hair. She was spying, too,” he said over his shoulder as he loped off into the brush.
“Hey, wait a second.” I made a move to follow him, but Darci pulled me back.
“Are you crazy? You can’t follow that guy—”
I shook her hand off my arm. “But he knows something about Brandi.”
“He’s not going to tell you anything. The guy’s creepy. If you really want to find out what he knows, ask Rick to come up here and talk to him. It’s safer.” She shook her head in disgust. “You’re so worried about keeping everyone else out of danger, but from what I see, I think you’d better start worrying about yourself.”
Before I could reply, Darci let go of my arm and marched ahead of me to the cabin.
Since Abby’s room had twin beds, she decided Darci would share it with her. Where Abby intended to put Darci’s mountain of clothes, I had no idea, but hey, not my problem. I just wanted to go to bed.
I felt exhausted. So exhausted that I didn’t do justice to the great meal Abby had prepared for dinner. Cold pasta salad with tiny bits of green pepper and cheese marinated in Abby’s homemade dressing, hamburgers cooked on the grill, and ice cream with chocolate sauce for dessert. Instead of enjoying the meal, I fought to keep my eyes open and my head from dropping face first into my bowl of ice cream. The conversation between Abby and Darci flowed around me without any contribution on my part. When I finally finished my ice cream, I glanced up from the empty bowl to see them watching me.
“What?” I asked, raising my hand to my face. “Do I have chocolate sauce dripping off my chin or something?”
Abby smiled. “No, dear, I just asked you if you were tired.”
Sliding the bowl away, I rested my elbows on the table. “Yes, I am. Too much has happened today, and I can’t seem to process all of it.”
“I’m sure you’re still suffering some effects of what happened to you at the cabin across the lake,” she said, rising and picking up the empty bowls.
Looking at her, I narrowed my eyes and shook my head slightly. The last thing I wanted to do right now was play interrogation with Darci.
Too late. Darci’s eyes widened and she wiggled closer to the table. “What happened this morning?”
I let out a long sigh and waved her question away. “I’m not up to talking about it now—”
The ringing of the telephone interrupted me. Yes, saved by the bell. Stumbling to my feet, I rushed to the living room to answer it.
I picked up the cordless phone. “Hello.”
“Hi, Ophelia,” said a warm voice on the other end of the line.
“Hey Rick,” I answered, and walked out onto the deck.
“I wanted to call and let you know what I’ve learned. The estate is still owned by the Butler family.”
“Really? The Finches are renting it?”
“I don’t know. The Butler place wouldn’t come cheap, so I’ve got a forensic accountant looking into PSI’s finances. I want to know exactly what the connection is, and more information on how they’re financing their lifestyle.”
“Follow the money, right?” I asked, smiling.
Rick laughed. “You got it. So how’s it going? Are you enjoying yourself?”
Looking out over the quiet lake, I thought about it. The lake was one of the most beautiful places I’d ever seen, but enjoying myself? Not really.
“I didn’t think we were here to have a good time; I thought we were here to find Brandi.”
“You’re right. Have you met any of the group yet?”
“Yes. Both Juliet and Jason, Winnie, and the girl, Tink.”
“What were your impressions of them?”
“Juliet seems nice, devoted to the girl. Winnie is annoying. And Tink? She reminds me of a wood sprite.”
“What about Jason?”
“Him, I can’t quite figure out yet,” I said, leaning against the wooden railing of the deck. “But there’s something unusual going on.”
Rick chuckled. “No kidding. That’s why I wanted you and Abby to go up there.”
“No, I didn’t mean whatever’s happening has anything to do with Brandi’s disappearance.” I paused. “It might. I don’t know right now. As for Jason, I met him down by the lake where I’d been talking to Tink. I’d found her there by herself. Then he showed up.”
“That’s interesting. In all the time I spent up there, I never saw her,” Rick replied, his voice thoughtful.
“It doesn’t surprise me. I think they must keep a tight rein on her and don’t let her go many places.”
“I heard she’s sickly, so that would explain maintaining a close watch on her.”
“And I think they try, but I got the impression she likes to slip away. But I wouldn’t describe her as ‘sickly.’ She’s thin, but she doesn’t strike me as someone with a chronic illness.” I walked over to the corner of the deck. “Even though when I met Juliet, she alluded to that fact the kid wasn’t well.”
“You didn’t believe her?”
“I don’t know. It didn’t fit with my impression.” I rubbed my tired eyes with one hand. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not making much sense.”
“That’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” Rick said in a kind voice. “You’ve only been at the lake for about a day and a half. I was up there for weeks. But already you’ve accomplished more than I was
able to.”
I decided to tackle the question that was really bothering me.
“Did you hear of any rumors of the Finches abusing Tink?” I asked abruptly.
“What?” He sounded perplexed at my question.
“Abuse. When I was with Tink at the lake and Jason showed up, her attitude changed completely. She’d been cocky, almost mouthy, but when he appeared, it was like a switch had been thrown. She turned into this meek, submissive little thing.”
“Maybe because she got busted running off?”
“Maybe.” I blew out a breath. “I don’t know. The whole experience seemed odd.”
“In answer to your question—no. I didn’t hear any rumors that the girl’s being abused. I think someone would’ve hinted at it. The community may appreciate what PSI is doing for them, but I don’t think they’d turn away from a young girl being mistreated. Any abuse would’ve been reported.”
“If they knew about it. A lot of secrets can be hidden behind closed doors.”
Rick didn’t speak for a moment. “If so, I’ve got a feeling you’ll uncover them.”
Suddenly, I remembered Duane Hobbs. “Speaking of secrets—why didn’t you tell me about Duane Hobbs?”
“What’s there to tell?” Rick’s voice carried a note of surprise. “What happened to Duane is an old story, and one that happened to a lot of soldiers. A young man goes off to war and returns seriously messed up. He’s harmless.” He sounded very sure of himself.
“I think he knows something about Brandi. He said she was spying on him.”
“Right. Duane thinks everyone is spying on him. Did he also mention he knows who killed JFK, where Jimmy Hoffa is buried, and what the lights over Roswell are?”
I felt my bubble burst. I’d been so convinced questioning Duane would help solve the mystery.
“So he’s paranoid and believes in conspiracies?” I asked, not keeping the disappointment from my voice.
“Yeah.”
“Shoot. Another dead end?”
“Yup.”
“What about Walks Quietly? Someone else you neglected to tell me about.”
I could almost hear the wheels in Rick’s head spin as he went over what he knew about the man. The knowledge came out in concise words.
“Lives down the lake from where you’re staying—back in the woods where the lane narrows. He’s also a Vietnam vet, like Duane. He served with honors. His Native American heritage is Dakota Sioux—”
I broke in before he could finish. “I thought the tribes around here were Ojibwa?”
“Most are, but there are still some Sioux in the area. Ojibwa are ancestral enemies of the Sioux, so maybe he feels he doesn’t have much in common with the other Native Americans living around the area.”
“Is he married? Does he have children?” I asked, breaking in again.
“I heard he has a daughter in Nebraska. But he keeps to himself, and I heard he isn’t overly fond of white people.”
“Is there a specific reason?”
“I couldn’t find out. People clammed up about him, like they did when I asked them about PSI. But for a different reason. I got the impression they not only don’t trust him, they’re afraid of him, too.”
Rick paused, and over the phone I heard a door open and shut, followed by the sound of a female voice calling out. Rick had company.
I thought of a long-ago kiss in front of a warm fire, and felt a tug at my heart. So much for Abby’s remark about life’s patterns changing. Rick wasn’t for me nine months ago and he wasn’t for me now. Had I really expected he’d been pining for me all these months? Not likely. Rick wasn’t the kind of guy to pine.
I heard a muffled “Just a minute,” as if he’d covered the phone with his hand.
His voice came out clear when he spoke again. “Sorry about that. Back to my story—some people even made a funny sign whenever I mentioned his name.”
“Great,” I mumbled into the receiver.
“What? I didn’t hear you,” Rick said. “Do you know what the funny sign might mean?”
Clearing my throat, I spoke louder. “It’s protection against the evil eye.”
Fourteen
After a restless night, haunted by half-remembered dreams that left me feeling on edge, I rose shortly before dawn. Quietly leaving my room, I peeked into Abby’s room. Both she and Darci lay curled up on their separate beds, sleeping deeply. With Queenie following me, I went to the kitchen and made coffee. When the last of the coffee had dripped into the pot, I poured a cup and took a cautious sip of the strong, hot liquid. Its warmth seemed to ease away the lingering malaise of dreams I couldn’t recall.
With cup in hand, I wandered through the living area and out onto the deck. I leaned against the railing and stared out at the lake. In the gray light, early morning mist wafted across the still water, and from a distance I heard the cawing crows. My gaze traveled around the shore of the lake to the spot where the abandoned cabin lay hidden in the trees.
I didn’t doubt Walks Quietly’s tie to the cabin. From the moment I met him, I sensed the power that he carried deep inside. And the cabin? A great deal of power lay there, too. A great deal of evil. And strong magick surrounded it. But had the magick been used to contain the evil or create it? I didn’t know.
But I bet Walks Quietly does. Where did Rick say he lived?
My decision made, I swilled down my now lukewarm coffee and headed back to my room. I changed quickly from the sweats I’d worn to jeans, a light sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. Tying my shoes, I prayed I could get out of the house without waking Abby and Darci. I had a feeling Abby wouldn’t approve of my idea.
Hurrying to the door, I found Lady watching me with hope in her eyes.
“No,” I whispered. “You have to stay home this time. Abby will let you out when she gets up.”
Her tail sagged and she gave me a dejected look, but went back to her spot by the windows and lay down.
Shutting the door as silently as I could, I took off down the lane toward the path Rick had mentioned.
So far so good. At least as long as I didn’t run into Duane Hobbs skulking around the woods.
An old pickup marked the spot where the lane narrowed to a simple path. And straight ahead I could see wisps of smoke hanging above the treetops. As I rushed forward, the path in front of me curved, and after rounding a bend, I found myself in the front yard of a cabin, a well-maintained cabin.
Stopping, I scanned the clearing where the cabin sat. The cabin itself had siding weathered to a muted shade of gray, but the tin roof looked shiny and new. A wide porch covered the front of the house. From the chimney, what had been only wisps from a distance were now puffs of smoke that bellowed into the morning air.
A shed that had seen better days sat away from the house, and cords of wood were stacked against the side of the building. Near the shed, an axe, with the blade partially buried in a chopping block, awaited its owner’s use. To the right of the shed I noticed a bundle wrapped in white cloth, hanging from a tree branch. My eyes traveled across the front of the cabin to the other side. Another bundle, this one red, hung from a different tree. Looking up at the tree next to me, I saw a third bundle, but instead of white or red, this one was yellow.
What were they? I made a move to touch the yellow bundle when I heard a creak. Whipping back toward the house, I saw the door slowly swinging open, and ducked behind the tree that held the yellow bundle.
From my hiding place I watched Walks Quietly stride into the center of the clearing around his cabin. Taking a pouch from his shirt pocket, he opened it and placed a pinch of something in his right hand.
Light from the morning sun illuminated the spot where he stood, and the sky above him was shot with pink and gold. He extended his right hand, palm up, toward the sky and began to chant in words I didn’t know. He turned to his right, to the south, still chanting.
The words made no sense to me, but I felt their sound vibrate in my soul. A sound that mingled
with the morning call of the birds in an age-old song. I watched while Walks Quietly continued his circle, facing west, north, and then back to the east. I don’t know how long his ceremony took. Time had lost meaning as I felt myself swept up in the rhythm of his chant.
His voice dropped to a whisper as he closed his right palm and sprinkled whatever he held on the ground. A sense of reverence filled the clearing, and for a moment even the birds were quiet.
“You can come out from behind the tree now,” he said clearly.
Sheepishly, I slunk out from behind it.
“Didn’t you see the No Trespassing sign?” Brown eyes stared at me in a way that made me squirm.
“Yeah,” I answered like a petulant child. “Are you going to have me arrested?”
His face tightened and his hands clenched and un-clenched at his sides. “It wouldn’t do any good. What do you want?”
“I’d like to ask you a question.” I chewed on my lip, nervously waiting for his reply.
For a second he seemed to think about it, but then he turned and over his shoulder said, “I don’t answer questions from whites.”
I rushed after him and caught up. “Please.” I placed my hand on his arm. All became still and my brain hummed with the power I felt inside this man. I dropped my hand and took a step back. Shoving my hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt, I stared at the ground.
Seconds ticked by while I felt the weight of his stare. Finally his voice broke the silence.
“What’s your question?”
Tamping down my nerves, I looked at him. “I’ve been told you’re Tink’s friend. Is she being mistreated?”
His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “The child is nothing to you,” he replied.
Offended, I tilted my chin. “If you mean I don’t know her, you’re right. But it doesn’t mean I’d stand by and do nothing if I knew the girl was being mistreated.”
“And what would you do?” he scoffed. “Go to your authorities?”
“Well, yes, I would.” My tone strident. “I’d find someone to get her out of the situation she’s in, to help her.”
The Trouble with Witches Page 10