Bearly Holding On

by Danielle Foxton

  Bearly Holding On

  Danielle Foxton

  CONTENTS

  COPYRIGHT

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NOTE FROM DANIELLE

  COPYRIGHT

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2016 Danielle Foxton

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Chick Flicks Publishing

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  Awenasa Dawes thought that when she left the Reservation against the wishes of her father—who also happens to be the chief—she’d most likely never be welcomed back. But when a rash of very strange deaths occur, the detective must return to her home and her people. In the process she meets Uzumati, a suspect with a secret but who she feels an instant connection to.

  As Awen’s investigation heats up, so do things with Mati. And as she finds out truth after truth, the legends of her people become reality, putting everyone she loves in danger and forcing her to realize that maybe only a princess can save them all.

  PROLOGUE

  It was a misty spring evening and dusk was just beginning to fall. The forest was still. As the sun set the chattering of the birds died out; a hush settled in between the trees. The creatures of the day knew when to be silent—when the predators around them awoke. All sorts of creatures lurked beneath the forest canopy: bears, cougars, things that could see better and move faster than any animal should in the dark. The forest was not completely devoid of sound. A young girl hustled through the trees, a single flashlight helping her through the unnatural stillness.

  She was young enough to have reason to fear the forest and old enough to know better about traveling alone at this time of night, but she tried not to think about that. She had spent the day gathering berries and time had gotten away from her. Now, of course, she was only too aware of how late it was. She clutched the basket full of berries close to her chest and, with a shiver, kept her eyes lowered as she hurried through the woods.

  “Hey! Girl!”

  Her back stiffened and she turned. She could have sworn she was alone—but no, she saw now, about ten feet behind her, a man perhaps about her father’s age. He shuffled towards her, casting glances behind himself every few seconds. His smile—more of a grimace, really—failed to reach his eyes. She leveled his gaze, her mouth a firm line. He was not from here; she could tell by his urban accent and the unfamiliarity he seemed to have with his surroundings.

  She shined her flashlight on him and he cursed. “Point that thing away from me!” She lowered it and his smile returned. “I think I’m a little lost. I was hiking and wandered off the path, and now I can’t find my way back.”

  With every word, he stepped a little closer. Concurrently, she stumbled backward. There was something to be said about instinct. Having lived fifteen years so close to the woods, she liked to think her instincts were pretty good.

  “There aren’t a lot of hiking trails in these parts,” she said slowly. “You must be really lost to have ended up here.”

  He nodded at this. “You could say that. Look,” he said, grabbing her forearm as he did so, “I don’t have a flashlight on me, and who knows what could be lurking at this time of night. Can you lead me to town? I know it’s not far from here, and I swear I won’t be any trouble—”

  “If you’re not from here,” she interrupted sharply, her flashlight again pointed at the man, “then how do you know that there’s a town nearby?”

  He was silent.

  The girl felt the hairs on her neck rise as his eyes fixed upon her in a predatory manner, narrowing menacingly. He seemed to be considering her, sizing her up. It made her nervous.

  The man began to move and she bolted in the opposite direction, no longer caring how loud she was so long as she ran. Fast. He was faster, but she was more familiar with this forest and her feet moved nimbly through the trees and forest brush.

  Every so often, she could hear his voice behind her. “Girl! Hey! I wasn’t—I wasn’t finished talking to you—dammit, come back!”

  That only made her run faster. She dropped her basket to the side and clutched the flashlight to her chest as she sprinted. If she could just make it a little further...she wasn’t too far from the main road now, and once she got a little closer she could yell for help. She just had to keep—

  “Oof!”

  A hand from behind batted the flashlight from her hand and she tripped, screaming. The voice didn’t sound like it was coming from her. Nothing felt real as she tumbled to the ground, battering her knees against the brush. Her breathing heavy, she raised her arms in defense, closing her eyes. She should have come home earlier. She shouldn’t have spent so much time gathering berries—she knew better. Bracing herself, she opened her eyes to fend off the man.

  Her breath hitched in her chest.

  There was no longer just a man standing in front of her. The silhouette was far too large for that, and far too familiar. She had seen bears before from a distance. Every so often one would wander onto the reservation and the police would come to tranquilize it—but never had one come this close. She swore that she could touch it if she reached her hand out, though of course she kept them both pinned to her sides. The man cowered in front of her, paralyzed, as the bear loomed over them both.

  “Damn it,” he breathed.

  The girl tried to stand but she was trembling too much. Even if she could stand, her feet were so badly scraped that she doubted she could do more than limp. She closed her eyes again; it was the only thing she could think to do—close her eyes and pray that she’d be let into heaven. Tears stung her eyes as she mouthed a final prayer.

  That was when the screaming started. She had only heard a grown man scream once before, when her father had been bitten by a rattlesnake. His cries were nothing compared to this. This was...almost inhuman. Her breathing caught in her chest and turned into uneven sobbing. It couldn’t end like this, it couldn’t...if she could just pick up her feet...but her body refused to co-operate.

  Just as quickly as the screaming began, it ended.

  The girl kept her eyes pried shut, trying to stifle her sobs and play dead. She heard a scuffling sound, like feet being dragged against the ground and then wet, animalistic snuffling. That, too, died down. At least a minute passed before she opened her eyes, her gaze darting around to spot the bear before it spotted her.

  Again, her breath caught in her throat.

  She saw a man, a different man—this one was younger, maybe six or seven years older than herself. He was tall and stocky, much bigger than the previous man. He didn’t seem to notice her at first, focused instead on something several feet ahead of them both. The bear was nowhere to be found. Fumbling for her flashlight on the ground, she pulled it to her chest. Wincing a little, she stood on her bruised feet and began to hobble backwards as quietly as she could. She couldn’t help, however, breathing out in pain as she did so.

  This must have caught his attention. The man glanced backwards. She took a sharp inward breath and, though her legs protested, she prepared to run. Yet he did not move towards her, or make any motion, besides a small smile.

  “The—the bear—” she began. Her voice was a quiet r
asp. “I—”

  He didn’t seem to register her words or make any response at all.

  After a while, his gaze lowered back to whatever he had been paying attention before. Her mind was racing but, if she knew anything, she knew she had to go now. She turned her back on the man and, using the trees as support, staggered out of the forest. Tears ran down her face as the slow realization came that no matter what had just happened, nobody would ever believe her.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The coroner tutted to himself as he examined the body. “Male, middle aged, cause of death appears to be from—”

  “A bear attack.” A female’s voice cut him off from behind as Awenasa Dawes approached the scene.

  The coroner, a man named John, jolted a little. “For the love of—a little warning, Awen!” he hissed, gesturing to the body. “You about scared the life out of me.” They held each other’s gaze for a moment while Awenasa stood over the body. Finally, John coughed. “Sorry. Maybe that was a little inappropriate to say, considering...”

  Her eyes grazed over the gruesome scene. Yes, it was brutal, but it was nothing that she let get to her anymore. Several years of working as a policewoman in the country lent her a certain indifference when it came to maulings. Or so she liked to tell herself.

  “The fourth one in the past three months,” she mused to herself, almost unaware that she said it aloud.

  “Must have been some savage bear,” agreed John, closing his notepad. He shot the corpse a pitying glance. “Poor guy. So much for bears being all cute and cuddly.”

  “The attack didn't happen here, John.” She pointed to the brush nearby. “Drag marks. And we’ve been traipsing all over them.”

  “Alright, guys, everybody move out and away from the area!” John called out. “Let's give Awen some room!”

  Awenasa stood and moved to the brush, inspecting carefully. There were no footprints to be found, but she could see that someone had tampered with the brush in an attempt to hide the trail. It was something she learned on the reservation as a child. She was taught to track, to hunt, and to hide her presence; she knew exactly what she was looking at.

  “This isn't a bear attack,” she told John, both of them observing the tracks. “Someone took great care to hide these drag marks. A bear wouldn't do that. A bear wouldn’t think of that.”

  “We found traces of bear fur on the victim’s body,” he said, lighting a cigarette. John was fond of cigarettes, especially under stress, and as he drew it to his mouth he considered the forest before him. “How do you explain that away?”

  “If it was a bear,” insisted Awenasa nonetheless, “why hide its track marks?”

  They followed the trail further into the woods, Awenasa drawing her gun should they run into the bear. Grumbling, John took her lead, pausing to take drags of his cigarette.

  If I'm wrong and a bear did this, she thought, I could be walking right into its territory.

  She walked slowly, following the zigzagging pattern until she came upon a thick patch of brush beneath a group of pine trees. Blood spatter covered the branches; the ground was soaked in it. As she inspected the area, her brows furrowed.

  “I have footprints!” she called out. John hurried to her side with a huff. “Looks like our victim was following someone.”

  “Appears so,” he agreed. He frowned again and tilted his head to the side. “That’s odd.”

  “They were smaller... and then we have these footprints here,” she said, pointing at where the blood was the thickest. “They start as bear tracks, but then we look here and they're human.”

  He flicked his cigarette ashes onto the forest ground. “Mm. We can observe all day, but we both have reports to do. What are you getting at, Awen?”

  “I don’t know yet, but hear me out. Whomever they belong to,” she said, raising a finger, “it looks like they were facing someone. These smaller footprints appear to be facing the larger ones. Someone knows what happened here.”

  “Mmm,” John replied, taking a drag. “Not far from the Nez Perce Reservation.”

  “Just like the others.”

  There was a silence. John studied Awen, but she refused to meet his eyes. She grew uncharacteristically quiet.

  “They're your people,” he said. He cast the cigarette butt to the ground and put it out with his foot. “Right?”

  “My...yeah,” she said, sighing. She gave him a weak smile. “It’s my home, I—I guess you could say.” Her smile disappeared. “But I haven’t seen them in a long time.”

  John looked like he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue for the time being. “Well, we should send you up to question them. Relations with them are tense at best when it comes to...well, you know. Those of us who didn’t grow up there.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And you think I have good relations with them?”

  “I just don't want anyone else going up there and pissing them off,” he said as they walked back to the waiting crowd of forensic investigators. John gestured behind them and watched as they dispersed into the forest. “You know how to communicate with them. I'm sure they'd gladly help one of their own.”

  “My dad practically sees me as dead to him,” she said, crossing her arms as she walked beside him. “He thinks I abandoned the reservation for city life. You think he wants to listen to anything I have to say?”

  “I realize things have been rocky since you left the reservation,” John said, fumbling in his pocket for another cigarette. Awen raised her brow as they walked, watching him light it and shove it in his mouth. “But surely in situations like this...”

  “I broke my father's heart,” she said bluntly, leaning against her Jeep.

  “Then it's a good opportunity to make amends with the old man.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Once he sees what you've done with yourself, you'll make him proud. Maybe. You’d be surprised what time does for people.”

  “You're not giving me a choice on this, are you?” she asked with a groan.

  John cried out as if he had been shot, causing Awenasa to draw her breath sharply.

  “Oh, god!” he said, grabbing at his chest. He feigned falling to the ground. “She reads minds!”

  She winced. “Fuck you, John.”

  John smiled, drawing the cigarette to his mouth. “Lighten up a little, eh?”

  “Lighten—is this a crime scene or a comedy to you, John? Sometimes I can’t tell.” She clambered into her vehicle and gave him the finger. “I'll call you shortly...let you know what I find.”

  “That's the spirit!” he cried, waving as she pulled away.

  She cursed under her breath twenty minutes later as she pulled onto the old muddy road that led to the Nez Perce Reservation. Her Jeep bounced and rocked with the ruts in the road. Her people liked to stay as far away from civilization as possible. They were conservative in their ways, preferring to stay to themselves. The younger generation was, of course, more open to the rest of the world, sneaking away every now and then to the movies or stores just to get a taste of it. Some would choose to live on the reservation, taking on the trades of their mothers or fathers, while others would choose to leave and lead their own lives.

  It's perfectly acceptable for them, Awenasa thought as she pulled into her parents’ driveway. God forbid I want something more for my life.

  Her father met her on the porch as she walked up. He squinted at her, and Awenasa tried not to flinch as his mouth formed a thin line when he recognized her. She waved shyly.

  “Hey, Dad,” she murmured, avoiding his eyes.

  “Awenasa.” His voice was toneless. “Have you decided to come home?'

  Awen sighed; she figured it would come to that. She loved him dearly and hated disappointing him.

  “Well...no, Dad, at least not permanently,” she said, shuffling onto the porch steps and meeting his gaze squarely. “I'm actually here on police business.”

  “Then I have nothing to say,” he huffed, crossing his arms as his wife emerged from t
he house.

  “Awen!” her mother exclaimed, wrapping her daughter in a warm hug. “I've missed you so much!”

  “Mother,” Awen answered, returning the affection. It had been too long. “I've missed you, too. A lot.”

  “You wouldn't if you hadn't left,” her father interrupted

  Her mother shot her father a glance as she broke the embrace with Awenasa.

  “Don't listen to him.” Her mother took her hand and led her inside the small house. She closed the door on her husband, who made no motion to follow them. “He'll come around, Awen, you'll see. Sit down. We have so much to get caught up on, and I just put dinner in the oven.”

  “I wish I could, Mom,” Awen said regretfully. She meant it. She had missed such warmth from her mother, and it pained her to reject it. “I'm actually here for the police.”

  “Police?” her mother asked, her smile dropping. She glanced at the door. “You're not in trouble, are you?”

  “Mom! No, of course not.” She shook her head. “I am a detective with the Washington PD.”

  “Oh my!” Her mother beamed at her, pride evident in her eyes. “My daughter...thriving just like I knew you would. I really am proud, Awenasa, and I hope that you know that.”

  Awenasa chuckled. “That means a lot, Mom. Thanks.”

  She followed her mother to the couch as they both took a seat. Her mother cleared her throat. “So can you tell us a little about it, or is it...you know...is it classified?”

  “No! No, it’s not that big of a deal, really. There's been a series of murders surrounding the village,” she explained. “They appear to be bear attacks, but this afternoon I found sets of human footprints.”

  Her father walked in, catching the last half of her sentence. Awenasa and her mother both stood, gaining a sense of formality with the return of her father.

  “I assume the city thinks someone on the reservation is responsible,” he said, breaking the silence, “and sent you to make things right. Is that right, Awenasa?”