Cold Case Reunion

by Kimberly VanMeter

  The corners of her mouth twitched with a smile but her eyes remained cold and distant as she answered, “Of course. I came to find answers. You’re the one wasting time.”

  “Touché.” He pushed off the grille. “Let’s go then. I figured we’d hit the bait and tackle shop first. Byron Hicks came ostensibly to fish and you can’t fish without supplies.”

  “The old bait shop is gone,” she said. “It was washed away a few years ago by the flooding. Now Bunny sells bait through his home.”

  Angelo digested the information. “The flooding got that bad?”

  “Yes. There are many who have lost their homes. Before long any home near the river’s edge will be gone. We’re trying to acquire more land in the tribe’s name so we can relocate the homes but it’s been slow.”

  Angelo thought of the people he remembered who lived closest to the river. “Who all has lost their homes?” he asked, feeling the weight of his people’s misfortune on his shoulders no matter how many years ago he’d shrugged off the responsibility. “Richards? Cannuck? Erwin?”

  His recollection earned him a shrewd look even as she nodded. “Yes. Some have moved in with other family members, others, such as the Erwins, simply moved away. It was very sad, but what choice did they have?”

  None. It was probably wise for everyone to leave, but he knew some would rather die on their native soil than live elsewhere. Like Mya. “What’s the Council doing to get someone in the right places to listen?”

  “They’re doing all they can,” she said, her brusque reply enough to remind him that these were not his worries and he could do nothing to help.

  “Well, I hope it works out,” he said, hating how flip he sounded, but it wouldn’t do to start fighting battles he had no stake in. Besides, he loathed hypocrites and he wouldn’t become one just to ease the suffocating pressure on his chest. As soon as he got away from this place, it would ease. “So where does Bunny live now?”

  “Up the bend. We can walk there.” She didn’t wait, simply started walking.

  He had no choice but to follow or get left behind.

  Chapter 12

  Mya kept a brisk pace, angry with herself for sharing the personal troubles of the tribe with a man who had shunned his own heritage routinely as a kid and clearly hadn’t changed much in the years of adulthood that followed.

  But she’d been incensed by the implication that they were all sitting around wringing their hands, hoping and praying someone was going to swoop in and save them. Who was he to judge when he’d walked away without a second glance so many years ago?

  If he’d stayed, he would have taken his rightful place at the head of the Council and been among the decision-makers of the tribe instead of the ragtag group that reluctantly took to the helm. They needed guidance, a strong hand to unite them. But they had to work with what they had, and Mya tried to be grateful for the volunteers who had stepped up. How could she explain to someone who cared for nothing that pride in one’s heritage was about more than checking a box on a government form? It was about preserving the legacy that flowed through their veins, making the tribe strong again when so many generations had fallen to the evils of alcohol and drugs. It was about guiding their young folk and instilling that same sense of pride that had beat so strongly inside the heart of Waylon Tucker.

  All of these things were foreign to Angelo and it was her deep disappointment that choked her ability to remain detached and professional.

  Angelo caught up easily, his breathing hardly taxed, and they walked side by side in silence for a long moment. As teenagers they’d spent plenty of time on the river. It was difficult to ignore the press of memories as they traversed the soft, spongy ground, verdant with mossy undergrowth and smelling of dark, rich soil. The summer they’d discovered each others’ bodies the river had been their favorite spot for privacy. Her breath hitched as one particular memory persisted and she struggled to hide her distressing reaction.

  She could almost feel the coarse scratch of the woven blanket cushioned by the soft grass under her bottom, could hear the rush of the river. His hands, reverent and gentle but shaking with a boy’s impatience, touched her breast as his mouth descended on hers. Her thoughts had blurred and melted as her skin came alive under his touch. Was there anything more glorious, more amazing than the discovery of something magical with someone for whom your heart beats? She knew the answer, but as it gave her joy then, it only caused heartache now.

  “We’re almost there,” she managed to say, surprised that her voice sounded steady when inside she was a quaking mess. Iris had been right. Damn the woman for knowing her so well. She stopped and squared off with Angelo, briefing him. “Bunny is basically harmless, but he’s an alcoholic and sometimes he has a temper that flares when he’s been on a bender.”

  “I remember Bunny,” Angelo said, his tone patient, even slightly patronizing, and she bristled.

  “Good, then you won’t be surprised if he tries to take a swing at you.”

  “Why would he do that? I’ve been gone for years.”

  “Precisely.” She shrugged. “It’s as good a reason as any. Besides, if you recall, Bunny had a soft spot for your grandfather. He doesn’t think too highly of you for abandoning the tribe.”

  “Wonderful.”

  At that she smiled. “Hopefully, the FBI taught you something about self-defense?”

  His mouth turned down but he jerked his head as if to say, move on, which she did.

  A rickety cabin came into view and a few dogs bayed and howled, announcing their presence. Angelo, ever alert, kept his eye on the dogs in case they weren’t friendly but he needn’t have worried. Mya had made plenty of house calls to Bunny’s house over the years, and the dogs would recognize her scent. Sure enough, Redbone and Delilah, Bunny’s hounds, ambled over to her and licked her fingers as she went to pet them. “Sorry, no treats today,” she told them as she patted their heads, flashing a smile at Angelo. “Don’t worry, their bark is far worse than their bite.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” he said stiffly, yet he didn’t attempt to pet either dog as they walked to the front door.

  Before they could knock, Bunny’s wife, Hettie, opened the door and scowled when she saw them.

  “What do you want? Nobody called you.”

  “Hello, Hettie,” Mya said in a conversational tone, smiling in spite of the woman’s unwelcoming expression. “We’re here to talk to Bunny. Is he home?”

  “He ain’t got no job. Where else he gonna be?” Hettie said sullenly before hollering for her husband. “Stay outside. I didn’t prepare for no visitors.”

  Hettie wasn’t much of a house cleaner and certainly not much of a wife, but she and Bunny had been brawling together since before Mya was born; she figured the two were cut from the same cloth and simply accepted things as they were.

  Bunny emerged from the house, a waft of cigarette smoke and stale beer following him, and peered at Mya first. He stretched, popping his back with a grunt. “Whatcha doing here, Doc?” he asked, in a tone slightly more friendly than that of his wife’s. Then his gaze settled on Angelo and as soon as recognition set in his mouth pinched and his eyes became hostile. “You lost, boy?”

  Mya stepped forward, not interested in fueling the fire when it would take little to fan it into an inferno with Bunny. “We need your help,” Mya said, grabbing Bunny’s attention. Bunny liked to feel needed, important. It wasn’t often that he felt either. “It’s about Waylon.”

  Bunny blinked as if hearing the name caused a pain somewhere deep under the skin and his shoulders sagged. “What about Waylon? He’s long dead. More’s the pity.” Angelo’s face darkened but he held his tongue. Mya felt a tiny bit of sympathy for Angelo. It had to be hard to be the one person nobody felt any kinship with. Bunny ignored Angelo and looked to Mya. “So what’s going on? Has it got something to do with him?” He gestured to Angelo and spared him a short look.

  “Yes. Angelo is here investigating the death of another m
an, special agent Byron Hicks. You might’ve sold bait to him. He’d come to the Hoh on vacation to fish.”

  Bunny rubbed the salt-and-pepper stubble on his brown weathered chin and searched his memory. There weren’t many tourists to this stretch of land, so it was unlikely Bunny didn’t remember, but he was taking his time for his own reasons. Mya could only wait and see. “What’s some tourist got to do with Waylon?”

  “Special Agent Hicks was doing more than fish the Hoh. He was investigating Waylon’s cold case. We think that’s what got him killed.”

  “I didn’t kill no agent if that’s where you’re headed,” he shot back, suddenly on the defensive. “And I loved Waylon like a son. He was a good boy.”

  Mya soothed him with a soft touch, murmuring, “No one is accusing you of anything. We need your help, remember?”

  Bunny settled but he remained twitchy. He was probably jonesing for a drink right about now but they needed him sober. “Yeah, I remember the guy. Sold him some flashtrap spinners and some salmon-egg bait cure. He paid cash for it ’cuz I told him I didn’t take no fancy credit cards or checks from strangers.”

  “Did he say anything at all about investigating the old case?” Angelo asked.

  “No. Not that I remember, but I was a few beers into the day by that point. Maybe Hettie would remember. She talked him up some when I went back to get the egg bait cure.”

  “Would you mind asking her to speak with us?” Mya asked with an encouraging smile, switching subjects for the moment to keep him talking. “Bunny, have you been to the clinic for your annual blood work?”

  “Been trying. No money for the check-up,” he groused, clearly embarrassed by his financial situation. This was common among the older generation, while the younger generation seemed to flaunt their lack of ability to pay for services. Bunny lifted his arm and jerked up his sleeve, exposing a nasty sore on his forearm. “Got this a few months ago and the damn thing won’t heal for nothing. Hurts like a son of a bitch, too.”

  She drew closer, not liking the red, angry wound that seeped and oozed around the edges of the scab. “What happened?”

  “I lost my footing on a rock and fell, scraped it pretty good.”

  “Damn near drowned is what you did.” Hettie’s strident tone cut through the cold air as she appeared in the doorway. “I had to haul him out of the river like a fish caught on a line. Should’ve left you there to rot, you drunk,” she said with a sniff.

  Case forgotten for the moment, Mya peered at the wound. “Bunny, you need to let me take a biopsy of that. It doesn’t look good. A regular cut should’ve healed by now. I want to see you first thing tomorrow morning at the clinic.”

  For all her bluster, faint worry lines bracketed Hettie’s eyes as she came up behind Bunny, her arms crossed at her ample chest. “I told him it didn’t look good. And while you’re there, you better tell her about how sick you’ve been feeling.”

  “Shut up, will you?” he said sharply, causing his wife to scowl. “They ain’t here to listen to me whine. I told you I felt fine.”

  Hettie ignored him and tattled on him anyway. “He’s been throwing up a lot. It’s real bad in the spring. Seems to throw up when he spends too much time near the water.”

  “That’s just plain stupid. I told you then and I’m telling you now, ain’t no one gotten sick just by being near the river!” Bunny bellowed. “I’ve been splashing around in the Hoh since I was smaller than a deer tick, now answer the doc’s questions so they can get on out of here. They look ready to freeze to death.”

  Angelo’s gaze sharpened. “How long have you been getting sick after spending time in the water?”

  Bunny waved him off. “It’s nothing. An old woman’s superstition.”

  “Humor us,” Mya said softly.

  Uncomfortable but unable to deny Mya’s request, he said with a shrug, “Off and on for a few years now. Been real bad lately, probably in the last three years. Been so bad this last year I haven’t hardly done any fishing.”

  Angelo and Mya exchanged looks. “First thing tomorrow, Bunny, I need to run some labs, see what’s happening in your system.”

  He looked as nervous as Hettie but still he tried to slough it off. “Pah. It ain’t nothing but my old bones acting up.”

  “It’s more than that and you know it,” Hettie hissed, risking a jittery look Mya’s way that Angelo caught.

  “What do you think it is?” he asked Hettie.

  Put on the spot she balked and buttoned up. “I ain’t saying nothing,” she said, backing into the house. “I know what’s good for me.”

  “Hettie…” Mya called out but the door had already slammed.

  Bewildered, Mya looked to Bunny but he’d started to make his excuses, too. “I’ll come in tomorrow. I promise. I don’t know what to tell you about that agent. I sold him some fishing stuff and sent him on his way. That’s it. That’s all I know.”

  “But you said Hettie—”

  Bunny cut Angelo off with a hard glare. “I didn’t say nothing about nothing. Now get off my property before I call the rez cop.”

  Mya hated when people called her brother a rez cop. It was insulting and rude, but Bunny was already agitated by something and it wasn’t likely to get better if she reminded him that Sundance was good to him and deserved better treatment. A fight for another day, she supposed with a weary sigh. She gestured to Angelo as she waved to Bunny. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said by way of encouraging him to actually show up, which she highly doubted he would. She could only hope Bunny made it to the clinic. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she was worried about that wound. It didn’t look normal at all. In fact, it didn’t look like a wound caused by a scrape, either. Hard to know for sure without taking some tests, which would be impossible without Bunny’s cooperation.

  Angelo and Mya started walking back to their cars.

  “What do you think they’re hiding?” Angelo asked.

  She shrugged. “No telling. They’re old and superstitious and drunk half the time. It’s really hard to put much store in what they have to say, but I am concerned about that sore.”

  Angelo disagreed on her first point. “Hettie was scared and Bunny had an idea why. We’ll need to find a way to question them separately. I could haul them in but something tells me that’ll cause them to clam up pretty quick.”

  “You got that right. It needs to be finessed if you want Bunny and Hettie’s cooperation. They’ve been on the river a long time. They’re used to just being around each other.”

  “Well, they know something and I need to know what it is,” Angelo said darkly. “I know when someone’s spooked and those two were nearly shaking in their moccasins. What would cause them to be so afraid?”

  Mya bit her bottom lip. “Good question,” she murmured. Angelo made a good point and her instincts agreed with his suspicions. The older duo was hiding something, and she suspected it was connected to that sore on Bunny’s arm. “We’ll come back tomorrow. I have a feeling Bunny’s not going to find himself a way to the clinic, so the clinic will just have to come to him. I’ll bring Iris and Sundance for backup and while I’m tending to Bunny, you can question Hettie.”

  The corners of Angelo’s mouth tilted in a slow, appreciative smile that sent a zing straight down to her toes. “I like your style. That sounds like an excellent plan,” he said. “Now let’s just hope they don’t find it in them to skip the reservation before then.”

  Mya scoffed at that idea, but she’d never seen Hettie and Bunny so openly agitated. She rubbed at her arms. “Let’s get out of this cold. Bunny was right—I’m about to freeze to death.”

  Chapter 13

  Angelo’s head was filled with questions, but there was more than what should’ve been swirling around his thoughts. In short, it was Mya.

  He’d always known Mya had a strength about her, but seeing her in action with Bunny had tipped his appreciation just a bit further in the wrong direction. He didn’t need to feel
more for Mya—he already felt too much.

  “When’s your partner coming back?” Mya asked, breaking into his private musings. They’d reached their cars and he was reluctant to leave, but he walked with deliberate purpose to his car as Mya went to hers.

  “Tomorrow afternoon. She’s getting caught up on some details on another case for the time being,” he answered, fidgeting with his keys. A night of solitude stared back at him and he didn’t like it one bit. It was being back in this place, he thought with a wash of irritation, not Mya that made him antsy and nostalgic. “Thanks for your help,” he offered and Mya graced him with a smile. He swallowed, wishing for selfish reasons that Mya hadn’t aged well. Maybe that would’ve made things easier for him. Likely not. It was impossible for Mya to look anything but breathtaking. It was her spirit, it shone through her skin and gave her a glow unlike anyone else. And once she’d reserved that special spark for him. Not anymore. He’d royally stomped into the ground something beautiful and there was no repairing what he’d destroyed. He knew that and had long ago come to terms with it—so why was he struggling with this desperate longing?

  “Well, I should get going…” Mya opened her car door to climb inside and he found himself compelled to persuade her to come with him back to his place. Hunger—hot and reckless and certainly dangerous—ate away at his good sense and pushed him to want what he didn’t deserve. Mya peered at him with a frown. “Is something wrong?” she asked. Yes. Everything. What was wrong with him? What could he say? Sharp regret had him by the short hairs? Somehow he didn’t think such a declaration would go over very well. How about I miss you more than I ever imagined I would and being here now is a special kind of torture. Torture he had certainly earned for walking away like an idiot. “I just wondered if you’d like to come back to my place and go over some notes with me,” he lied—well, not a complete lie, but certainly not the entire truth. He forced a shrug when she simply stared in response. “I mean, nothing personal, of course. I just figured two heads were better than one when recalling the past, and since you were with me when Waylon was found, I thought you might be able to remember details I wouldn’t. But if you don’t feel comfortable…”