Cold Case Reunion

by Kimberly VanMeter

  His eyes adjusted to the water and saw Mya’s limp body floating, anchored by the seat belt that had been damaged by the crash. He pulled his utility knife and activated the window breaker. The window cracked and splintered and glass shards drifted away on the current. He sliced her seatbelt and pulled her body through the open window. He dragged her from the water onto the shore, gasping for air, chilled to the bone, terrified because she was silent as the grave.

  “No, Mya,” he shouted, checking for a pulse. Nothing. “It’s not going to end this way!”

  He heard the ambulance but he started CPR on his own. Breathing for her, he kept up resuscitation even as tears streamed down his face. It couldn’t end this way, it just couldn’t. Mya—his beautiful, strong, smart woman—was not meant to die choking on river water. She was meant to do amazing things in her life. To be a wife and a mother, to be the soul of their tribe.

  She was meant to be his wife and the mother to his children.

  Why? He wanted to scream to the heavens, to his ancestors, to Great Spirit who’d taken so much from him in his lifetime. Why would he take Mya, too?

  The paramedics pushed Angelo aside and he reluctantly relinquished her body so they could work. Sundance was on their heels, his face white. “Mya?” he breathed, pain and anguish in his voice.

  “Brother,” Angelo stopped him, mindless of his own tears, the tribal familiarity coming to him unbidden. Sundance stared, his eyes filled with wild grief. Angelo folded him into a fierce embrace, knowing the fear Sundance felt because he was trapped in it, too. “She wasn’t breathing…I’m afraid she’s gone.”

  “We have a pulse!” the paramedic shouted and the work became a frenzy. “We have to get her to the hospital. Now!”

  Sundance and Angelo broke apart and hope fluttered between them. Could it be? Another paramedic handed Angelo Mya’s sodden purse, saying, “She had this wrapped around her arm,” before closing Mya into the ambulance and driving away with the most precious cargo on the reservation in Angelo’s opinion.

  Neither Sundance nor Angelo wasted time on talk. Both bounded for their separate cars to chase the ambulance to the hospital.

  A bright light blinded Mya. She shielded her eyes and turned away but warmth emanated from the light and she was so cold. She wanted to bathe herself in that warm glow, to shake off the chill seeping into her bones. She took a step toward the light but something held her back. She glanced down and saw nothing, but she felt pressure on her hand, as if an invisible presence were tethering her to this cold place. She tugged, but she remained stuck. The warmth blazed hotter, beckoning, drawing her, and tears stung her eyes. She wanted that heat, that blessed comfort. A silhouette passed through the light and she realized she wasn’t quite alone, but she couldn’t make out faces. People were walking into the light, so why couldn’t she? She was being left behind! She pulled harder and pain erupted up her arm, causing her to yelp and stop trying to escape. Tears fell down her face. Why was she always being left behind? A familiar shape emerged from the light but stopped short of reaching Mya. The light blazed around the shape until it converged on a beloved face.

  “Grandma Rachel?” she made out, the tears coming faster. She reached out to her grandmother, the woman who’d helped raise her and Sundance when their parents had died, and she was hurt when Grandma Rachel simply smiled and shook her head. “I want to be with you. I’ve missed you so much,” she said.

  Grandma Rachel radiated love from her round, soft body and Mya choked on her tears. “Please…”

  Not yet.

  And that tugging on her hand was strong enough this time to jerk her farther away from Grandma Rachel and that blessed heat. She cried out but the light started to dim, dwindling in on itself and taking Grandma Rachel with it, until she was alone in the cold dark of some terrible place.

  But the pressure on her hand that had frightened her so much had suddenly become a comfort. She turned away from the cold and toward the presence that she couldn’t see but felt acutely.

  She closed her eyes and allowed the pull to draw her away. She didn’t know where it was leading her, but somehow she knew it was to safety.

  Angelo listened to the doctor explain what was happening to Mya, all the while keeping her hand clasped in his. He wouldn’t leave her side, not to eat, not to sleep. Sheer exhaustion stole a few winks from him but even in dead slumber he kept her hand in his. He wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t let anyone persuade him to leave her side.

  The cold water had slowed her heart rate and, though she’d been without oxygen for approximately eight minutes, they’d been able to revive her because the cold had worked in their favor. But she’d slipped into a coma for a short time as her body had struggled to regain consciousness. That had been two days ago.

  “She seems to be coming around, but I want to warn you that she might have sustained brain damage from the lack of oxygen,” the doctor said, his tone grim.

  Angelo wiped at the moisture on his face and returned to gaze at his beautiful woman. She looked as if she was simply sleeping, but he knew she hovered between worlds. He’d spent the last two days fervently praying to a God he’d forsaken, ancestors he’d forgotten and any other deity that might have cause to take pity on a mere, messed-up mortal with a hole in his heart at the idea of losing the only woman he’d ever loved.

  And he wasn’t alone. Sundance and Iris had stationed themselves at the foot of her bed as well, taking shifts by her side. He took comfort in their presence. Even Grace had poked her head in to check on him and Mya, after she’d deposited Randy Willets into a safe house for his protection for the time being. And while Angelo was sequestered with Mya, Grace ran down leads, not that there were many. The photos inside Mya’s purse, although wrapped in plastic, had been partially ruined by time and then water. Grace had had them sent to the FBI labs for processing, in the hopes that the sophisticated forensic department could isolate faces for recognition. It was a long shot, but the photos were the one and only lead they’d had, and Mya had nearly died trying to get them to him. Grace had sent a biopsy of Hettie’s wound to forensics as well. They were still awaiting the results, but one small stroke of good luck had found them—the results from Bunny’s autopsy.

  Grace had delivered the news personally.

  “The man was riddled with cancer, stage four, it looks like,” Grace said. “But he also had high levels of potassium chromate in his system. That’s a highly toxic carcinogen, and likely what caused his cancer.”

  “How does a fisherman who rarely leaves the reservation come into contact with something like that? Does it occur naturally around here?”

  “No,” Grace said. “It’s usually used in dye-manufacturing plants because of its bright red color.”

  “Randy Willets is part owner of a small textile plant an hour or so from here…”

  Grace’s mouth twitched. “That explains why he hasn’t been very cooperative, but it doesn’t explain who’s going around popping off loose ends.”

  Angelo nodded and Grace gestured to Mya. “Any change?”

  “None yet, but she’s strong, she’ll pull through,” he said, forcing the confidence into his voice even though his spirit was flagging. All he had was a dogged sense that Mya wouldn’t leave this world without a fight. In the meantime, he’d wait by her side and Grace would be his go-between and his muscle.

  Mya’s eyelids twitched and he tried not to react. The doctor had warned him that involuntary movements didn’t necessarily mean anything. But each time she moved, his heart leaped just the same. This time, a soft groan escaped her lips and everyone in the room jumped.

  “Do you think…?” Iris asked, the hope in her voice mirroring his own. Sundance clasped Iris’s hand but leaned forward, his eyes bright.

  Mya groaned again and her leg slid slowly into a different position under the blanket. “Wh-what h-happened?” she croaked, her voice hoarse and raw.

  Iris hopped up to get the doctor and Sundance flanked Mya’s other
side while Angelo could barely speak. Tears flooded his eyes, and all he could do was smooth the hair at her crown, so delirious that she was alive and awake.

  Sundance sensed he was beyond words and took the lead.

  “We’re so glad you’re finally awake. We were afraid that you were going to leave us behind. How do you feel?”

  “Groggy,” she said with a faint grimace. She looked down and saw Angelo’s hand tenderly holding her own. “You… I remember…” She frowned. “Um, I’m sorry. I can’t seem to think straight,” she said, dropping her head against the pillow.

  “Don’t overdo it,” Angelo said, finding his voice. “You’ve been through a lot.”

  Her breath hitched as she remembered. “Did you find who pushed me off the road?”

  Angelo shook his head. “Not yet, but we will. We’re getting close to finding out who’s behind all this. Grace has been running down leads and we’re going to find out who did this. I promise.”

  Iris returned with the doctor, and Angelo reluctantly moved out of the way while Mya was examined.

  Angelo backed away and Sundance followed while Iris hovered close to Mya.

  “When are you talking with Randy Willets?” Sundance asked in a low voice.

  Angelo scrubbed his palms over his face, feeling every lost hour of sleep beneath his overwhelming relief that Mya had finally opened her eyes and seemed coherent. “He’s in a safe house with Grace. I plan to go as soon as Mya seems in the clear.” He looked to Sundance and noted the tensing of his jaw. “Why? You want to come with?”

  “I sure as hell do,” Sundance answered. “I’ve got a few questions of my own for the man. Seems he knows a lot more than he’s saying and if he had anything to do with Mya’s accident…well, let’s just say he’s going to get a lesson in family loyalty.”

  Angelo matched Sundance’s grim promise with a feral smile. “You read my mind, brother.”

  Chapter 24

  Randy Willets looked like a broken man, Angelo thought as he stared him down.

  “What’s in the water, Randy?” Angelo asked, deceptively calm. No response, but Randy shifted his gaze away. Angelo rapped the table with his knuckles, demanding Randy’s full attention. “No, you don’t have the option of checking out of this conversation. I want answers and I’m going to get them.”

  Grace came forward. “You own a textile company, right?” When Randy remained silent she continued, “I did a little research and found that your textile company uses potassium chromate in the dying process of certain fabrics. Funny thing about that stuff, it’s highly toxic. A known carcinogen.”

  Angelo leaned forward. “And you know what’s funny about that? Bunny Roberts had a bad sore on his arm, much like the sore his wife, Hettie, has on her ankle. Turns out they’re chemical burns. From potassium chromate. And that stuff doesn’t just pop up naturally like mushrooms under a log. Any idea how a fisherman and his wife happened to get burned by a highly toxic chemical?”

  Sweat beaded Randy’s lip and he began to shake. “Y-you’re supposed to be keeping me safe, not grilling me like a criminal,” he said, but his voice had lost its bite. In fact, he seemed downright pathetic. If Angelo had had an ounce of compassion for Randy Willets, it had died the minute someone tried to kill Mya.

  “We collected a sample near where your son camped on the river—it was contaminated with potassium chromate. Imagine that,” Grace said.

  Sundance came forward. “And guess what we found in Mya’s purse? Old pictures…lots of them. Of people dumping something into the river, something that’s definitely not biodegradable.”

  “What are you saying?” Randy said, trying to bluff.

  “Your records with the EPA state your company is over its legal limit for toxic and hazardous waste, which means you’ve had to sell off quantities to other companies who haven’t reached their limit, but you haven’t had a buyer in years. So where’s the waste going, Randy?” Grace asked.

  “I don’t have to answer—”

  Angelo jumped in, his blood running hot. “You’re right, don’t bother, because I think I know. You’ve been dumping it into the Hoh River during peak flow in the spring because the Hoh flows into the ocean and who’s going to know? Well, someone found out, didn’t they? Someone like Waylon.” He got into Randy’s face. “You killed my little brother in cold blood, didn’t you? Didn’t you! He was just a boy! Who are you to play God? To take his life when he had so much to live for?”

  Randy’s eyes welled and he seemed to dissolve into a shaking, babbling mess of a man. Angelo stepped back as Randy dropped his head into his hands to sob noisily. “I never meant for that to happen. It wasn’t supposed to happen. No one was supposed to get hurt. It seemed a small enough risk and we had so much to lose,” Randy said, tripping over his own words. “We had to offload the chemicals or else the fine was going to cripple the business. We couldn’t stop production and couldn’t find a buyer for the stuff. The Hoh flows so fast during the spring, we thought no one would be the wiser.”

  “How’d Waylon find out?”

  “I don’t know, the fish, I guess. The first dump killed off some fish and crawdads. I told Darrick to stay away from the river during the peak flow, but he never listened. It was supposed to be a warning shot, meant to scare the kids, but I was nervous and my shot went wild, hitting Waylon. I never knew he’d been taking pictures. I just thought to scare him off.” His eyes watered. “I never meant to kill him. I swear.”

  Angelo had always thought that when he stared into the eyes of his brother’s killer he’d have to restrain himself to keep from strangling him with his bare hands, but he felt nothing. Not pity, not rage. Both had seeped out of him as he stared at the broken man before him. Guilt and regret had done the work for him and there was no glory in beating a man when he couldn’t fight back.

  “Is that why you’ve been knocking off the others? Tying up loose ends?” Grace asked.

  Randy shook his head vehemently, his lips white. “I’m not killing anyone. Waylon’s death was my fault, but I didn’t touch the rest.”

  “If not you, then who?” Sundance asked.

  “Joseph Reynolds,” Angelo answered for Randy, seeing the man’s cold, calculating eyes in his memory. “Your cousin and business partner, right?”

  Defeated, Randy could only nod. “He’s been holding Waylon’s death over my head for years. I told him no more, that we couldn’t keep dumping the stuff in the Hoh, but he said it was the perfect solution to our problem and told me if I didn’t go along with it, he’d make sure someone found out about Waylon. I couldn’t take the risk…and I was afraid. Joseph is ruthless. I didn’t put it past him to do whatever it took to get his way. Then, when that agent started poking around…I don’t know, he said he’d take care of it. I didn’t know—but I should’ve figured—that he was going to do something drastic.”

  “And by then you were in so deep, you couldn’t get out,” Grace surmised, and Randy jerked a nod as he wiped at his nose. Grace shared a look with Angelo. “I’ll get an arrest warrant for Joseph Reynolds as well as a search warrant for his property.”

  Angelo nodded and Grace took off, wasting little time. For all they knew, Joseph was hightailing it to Mexico by this point.

  “I never meant to hurt anyone,” Randy whispered. “I just wanted to survive.”

  “Yeah, well, so did the people you killed with your greed,” Angelo said, pushing away. “Cuff him, Sundance. I’ve heard enough from this scum.”

  Sundance jerked Randy’s arms around the back and cuffed him tightly, causing Randy to grunt in pain. Then, as Sundance was leading him out to his vehicle, Randy stopped to stare at Angelo, resentment in his eyes. “You think I haven’t been punished all these years? You’re wrong. I’ve lived with guilt every day, and now my only son is dead.”

  “You’ll get no sympathy from me,” Angelo stated flatly. “If it weren’t for you, my brother would still be alive. I don’t really care if you suffer regret. But I do
hope you rot in prison.”

  Sundance jerked Randy around and stuffed him into his SUV. Justice—for Waylon, at least—had been served. Now, they had to lock down Randy’s squirrelly accomplice.

  But first, Angelo needed to see Mya again. He needed to reassure himself that she was alive and well. She was his True North and he couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to figure that out.

  Angelo, Grace and Sundance entered the swanky office building in Seattle that Joseph Reynolds used to handle business operations for his and Randy Willet’s textile business and startled Joseph as he appeared to be packing.

  “Going somewhere?” Angelo asked with perfect calm. Joseph stilled then straightened and met Angelo’s stare without flinching.

  “What’s this about?” Joseph had the balls to ask as if affronted by their busting into his business and bypassing appropriate channels.

  “Oh, I think you know,” Angelo said. “You’re under arrest for murder.”

  The man chuckled but the sound was forced. “I don’t appreciate your humor.”

  Angelo widened his stance. “I’m not laughing.”

  Grace tossed a warrant to the desk. “This gives us permission to search the premises as well as take you into custody for the murder of Darrick Willets.”

  Joseph paled and actually stumbled a little as his butt found his chair. Angelo came forward. “You left your DNA all over that disguise you wore to sneak into Darrick’s room to deliver the fatal overdose, and as soon as we search your financials I’m sure we’ll find the money you paid the sharpshooter to kill Bunny Roberts and special agent Hicks, because you sure as hell don’t look as if you have that kind of skill. I’m curious, though, why’d you dirty your hands to kill your own family member? I’d have thought you’d have handed off that job.”

  Caught, Joseph remained silent while Grace jerked him out of the chair and cuffed him.