Death Chant

by Vella Munn

  Chapter Eight

  Jay was dressed when Winter sat up as it was getting light. Her back protested what she’d put it through, so she stretched. That done, she put on her shoes and headed into the forest to deal with nature. Fog hugged the ground and gave the surroundings a misty quality. The few clouds didn’t detract from the clean blue sky.

  She was nearly back to where she and Jay had spent the night, when his voice reached her. She couldn’t make out what he was saying but guessed he was talking to whoever would be joining them.

  Doc was dead. Murdered.

  Wishing she could recapture her sense of peace, she rejoined Jay. He acknowledged her while continuing his PTT conversation.

  “I’ve been to a couple of his sessions,” he said. “He struck me as someone who thinks before he decides. Yeah, I figured he couldn’t. Of course I’ll be here.”

  “Who were you talking about?” she asked when he was done. Her stomach rumbled, but hunger wasn’t enough to distract her from Jay. Maybe it was having spent the night next to him. Perhaps she’d moved beyond yesterday’s disbelief and horror.

  Whatever the reason, she saw him as more than a ranger. He was a man, steady and competent, part of something she’d always wanted to feel connected to.

  Masculine.

  “Christian Turney. He’s the ranger who will be in charge of the investigation.”

  “Is he good?” Looking up at Jay made her feel—surely not feminine.

  Yes, feminine, she admitted. A woman in the presence of a man who appealed to her.

  “I respect him. He’s in charge of law enforcement in the park. He also runs occasional workshops on how to deal with drunks, vandals, that kind of thing. Last year, there was a rash of vehicle break-ins while people were out hiking. Thanks to him, we caught the two women responsible.”

  “Who else will be working with him?”

  “It sounds as if the majority of the park’s law-enforcement-trained rangers are coming. So are Michael and Booth.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “The best I can come up with is they’ve both had dealings with Dr. Gilsdorf.”

  She didn’t understand why the two felt they had to hike here. “Some of the material at Doc’s cabin belonged to the library. I wonder what’s going to become of it.”

  “My guess, Booth will demand to have it back. In fact, I’m surprised he let Dr. Gilsdorf borrow it.”

  She pressed her hand to her forehead. Poor Doc. “What was it, jealousy? Booth resented having to share?”

  “You’ll have to ask him. Michael took it upon himself to call the university.”

  “Already? Who did he talk to?”

  “Apparently, he reached Dr. Wilheim. It sounds as if the professor intends to get on scene as soon as he can book a flight. Maybe he’s already in the air.”

  Having to face her no-nonsense superior was the last thing she needed today—next to looking at Doc’s body again, that was.

  “Maybe you won’t have to deal with him. If you can talk to Christian right away, you could leave.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He faced her. There was something defensive about his stance, as if he wanted to protect her.

  “There’s so much…” She couldn’t remember what she’d been going to say.

  Jay returned the communication device to his belt and settled his hands over her shoulders. “If your determination to stay has to do with Wolf—”

  She couldn’t stop herself from leaning into him. “In part, but that isn’t all. As soon as Doc started talking about what he wanted to accomplish here, I was on board. I hoped the grant would be enough so I could join him. Not being able to was a big disappointment.”

  “Because it would have meant a step up your career ladder?”

  “That factored in.” Was that disapproval in his gaze? “The chance to be part of something that revolves around Native Americans is what excites me.” She held out her arm and pushed back the sleeve, exposing skin as dark as his in an attempt to make her point.

  He brushed her forearm with his fingers, igniting her flesh. “Point taken. Winter, I don’t want you saying anything about Wolf.”

  “That’s the last thing I’d do.” She couldn’t stop staring at where he’d touched her. Would she ever tell him about the role wolf make-believe had played during her chaotic childhood, or last night’s vivid dream, or show him her tattoo?

  * * * *

  Even though their presence made Doc’s murder achingly real, Winter was relieved when the first two rangers arrived. They’d brought water, granola bars and dried fruit, which Jay and she promptly ate. The newcomers set about going through the nearby bushes. Although they didn’t say anything, she concluded they were looking for the murder weapon and shoeprints. Within an hour, two additional rangers who’d come from a greater distance joined them. They took turns stationing themselves near the body and keeping insects away. Pictures were taken, but no one touched Doc.

  “I wish you could leave,” Jay said. “Surely Christian can wait to talk to you.”

  His consideration made her eyes burn. The best she could do was mutter a thank you. He took her arm and led her away from the others. He’d pulled out his phone when one of the rangers approached, waving a notepad at him.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Jay told her as he and the ranger started walking away. Even with several people around, she felt cut off, alone.

  What was she supposed to do? If only she were back in her desert rental, going through the routine of her life, doing what Dr. Wilheim told her to do, telling herself that her small circle of friends was enough.

  No, she couldn’t return to what she’d had before coming to Olympic. That part of her life was over, irrevocably changed by murder.

  And by Wolf.

  Are you out there? Can you read my thoughts? Are you aware of what I need?

  * * * *

  Winter had been leaning against a tree while the officers, including Jay, conducted their investigation of the crime scene when she heard labored breathing. As the newcomers came into view, she recognized Michael Simpson and guessed the tall, solidly built man with him was Booth Deavers. She could be wrong, but they didn’t seem to be happy around each other. Of course, they were dreading what they were about to see, unless—

  You aren’t a detective. Don’t try to think like one.

  Jay had been out of sight in the wilderness, but he joined her as the newcomers arrived. She concluded he’d been watching her as much as he’d been helping look for evidence. He stood a few feet away from her, his silent presence both comforting and distracting.

  Booth didn’t resemble the stereotypical librarian. She guessed him to be a good fifteen years younger than Michael, who she figured was in his mid-fifties. Booth had on a name brand jacket, black dress slacks and nearly new tennis shoes, which created a disjointed effect. He certainly hadn’t dressed for a long hike. Despite what sweat had done to it, she concluded he’d recently had his hair cut, although styled was more like it.

  As Jay made the introductions, Booth stuck out his broad hand. He gripped her fingers tight enough to mash them.

  “Michael told me you found—” Booth interrupted himself, cleared his throat, then continued in a different direction. “I’m certain you’re aware that Dr. Gilsdorf was delighted with my collection of oral histories. I felt honored when he commented on my efforts to make the collection as extensive as it is. Needless to say, before entrusting the collection to him, I requested assurance that it would receive the care it needed and deserved. We’d only recently finalized the agreement when—”

  “Not now,” Jay interjected. “That doesn’t matter today.”

  Booth glared at Jay. “Why don’t you let the young lady and me determine the timeliness of this conversation? Ms. Barstow, isn’t it? On our way here, Michael shared what he knows of your association with Dr. Gilsdorf. Am I correct in my assumption that you had a hand in preparing the documentat
ion he presented to the grant committee? If so, you did a thorough job.”

  Doc had always had an aversion to those he believed were in awe of academicians. Booth seemed to be determined to impress her. If Doc were here, the two of them would have a hard time not laughing.

  “My involvement was minimal.” That wasn’t quite the truth, but she didn’t want to say more. “I’m surprised you made the hike.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I’m intimately involved in the park’s educational resources and potential, as was the late Dr. Gilsdorf.”

  How would Booth react if she told him his overblown speech was adding to her headache?

  “Dr. Gilsdorf is more than late,” Jay said. “He’s a murder victim.”

  Before Booth could reply, Michael, who’d been silent up until now, grabbed Jay’s arm. “I didn’t inform the media. Please tell me you or the other rangers haven’t, either.”

  Jay pulled his arm free. “Having the press around is the last thing I want.”

  Booth snorted. “Michael, I could have told you this situation is safe with Jay for a while longer. Our Native American ranger would like nothing more than to bar not just the media but all outsiders from the park.”

  Jay’s jaw tightened. “That’s not true. Besides, we can’t keep this to ourselves. Maybe the press has been listening to our scanners. Hopefully, we’ll be able to finish our investigation here before they show up.”

  Michael shook his head, drawing her attention to the bags under his eyes and lack of color. Was he ill? But he couldn’t have made the hike if he was physically sick.

  “It’s going to be a nightmare,” he muttered. “Until the killer has been caught, people are going to be afraid to come to Olympic. Revenue will fall.”

  Who cared about finances? A decent man had been killed. That’s what mattered.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Jay told Michael.

  Color bloomed on Michael’s pale cheeks. “Don’t tell me not to worry. You’re not the one charged with making sure the park operates in the black. I am.”

  Anger was the last thing she’d expected from the budget officer. She was the one having trouble keeping her temper under control. Shouldn’t someone in his position have a calm, deliberate demeanor? The reminder that she’d never be able to ask Doc his opinion of Michael or anyone else struck her like a physical blow.

  Turning from the men, she looked around but couldn’t escape today’s awful reality. At least she could put distance between herself and the uncomfortable conversation. She headed toward a number of waist-high ferns, stopping when she sensed someone behind her. Hoping it was Jay, she looked over her shoulder. Instead, Booth stood a few feet away.

  “You and I need to talk,” he said. “Alone.”

  Was he going to confess he’d killed Doc? Shaking off the unnerving and crazy thought, she nodded and headed into the trees, Booth next to her. The smell of his sweat warred with his strong cologne. She wanted nothing to do with him but had no choice.

  “I granted Dr. Gilsdorf access to the library when I wasn’t there,” he said. “I later discovered he’d taken more material than he’d led me to believe he was going to. The last time I saw him—I’m not sure when that was—I asked him for a list of everything he had in his possession. He apologized.”

  “What does this have to do with me?”

  “Perhaps nothing.” Booth smiled. “It’s quite possible you’ll leave as soon as the investigators have finished with you.” His smile died. “However, if you don’t, I’m hoping we can work together.”

  “I hope so, too.”

  “I’ll cut to the chase, Ms. Barstow. On my way here, I debated saying anything about the project.” He frowned. “Is that the right word, project?”

  “Are you talking about the grant study?”

  “Exactly. The timing is terrible because none of us can say what’s going to happen going forward. I don’t share Michael’s pessimism about the murder investigation’s impact on the park, but Dr. Gilsdorf’s enthusiasm was infectious. I’m excited about possibilities, however remote, for turning parts of Olympic into a living history lesson.”

  “That wasn’t quite Doc’s goal.”

  “We had several conversations about that. We didn’t exactly agree to disagree. What we did was make considerable strides toward acknowledging each other’s points of view.”

  She tried to remember if Doc had ever said anything about Booth Deavers, but she couldn’t recall.

  “I’m hoping,” he said, “to soon have the opportunity to talk to you about how you would structure the study if it becomes your responsibility.”

  “I see it more as an opportunity than a responsibility, but I’m not in a position to say what’s going to happen.”

  He cocked his head. “You’re in a better position than you’re giving yourself credit for. If nothing else, you’ll get the sympathy vote.”

  She wondered if he was encouraging her to use sex appeal. The idea made her shiver. She’d never used her body that way and was debating saying so when she realized Jay and Michael were coming toward them.

  “What are you doing?” Michael demanded of Booth, while Jay simply stared at her.

  Booth chuckled. “We’re simply having a conversation, aren’t we, Winter? Don’t mind Michael. He found so much fault with Dr. Gilsdorf that he’s still working at putting it behind him.”

  “You found fault?” Winter asked Michael. “Why?”

  Michael looked everywhere but at her. “It wasn’t that at all. Yes, I would have preferred a more open relationship, but the professor was determined to do things his way. I respected that.”

  “Right,” Booth snapped. “A heads-up, Ms. Barstow. Michael will say whatever he believes people want to hear.”

  “Are you interested in listening to this?” Jay asked. “Because you don’t have to.”

  As grateful as she was to Jay, the time would soon come when she’d have to talk to Booth and Michael. If she was going to finish what Doc had begun, she needed more information about those he’d had to deal with.

  Finish what he’d begun?

  That was a decision she had to make, soon.

  Chapter Nine

  Less than an hour later, Jay and she were on their way back to Potlatch with him leading the way on the narrow trail. When Jay had reached Christian via PTT, the lead investigator had agreed with Jay that she didn’t need to stay at Ghost Totem after all. The two had also concurred that she shouldn’t make the return hike on her own, and since Jay wasn’t a law enforcement officer, it made sense for him to accompany her.

  “Did Christian say anything about a possible suspect?” she asked soon after they got started down the trail. “Maybe he heard about some crazy person hanging around the park. Maybe Doc was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “No crazies. At least, none that we’re aware of.”

  “We aren’t certain Doc was specifically targeted.”

  “No, we aren’t.”

  She didn’t ask him to speculate beyond that, and, to her relief, he let the subject die. After a silence of several minutes, he called her attention to the sound of woodpeckers. Soon after, he pointed out fresh elk scat. He told her that, as children, Floyd and he had tracked mountain beavers, black bears, deer and elk. They’d even searched for cougars and twice had spotted martens.

  Listening to him, she drew comparisons between what she saw as his perfect upbringing and the succession of foster homes she’d experienced. Maybe he hadn’t had much in material possessions, but he’d had what she’d wanted most. How could he have walked away from it?

  But he’d returned.

  Between hanging on to Jay’s stories, the sound of his voice, and gratitude because she wasn’t alone, she couldn’t say how long they’d been walking when he stopped and looked back at her.

  “Winter?”

  She started and blinked. “What?”

  “We’re nearly back. You can try your cell phone now.” He pointed at
a nearby tree stump. “That look okay to you?”

  For too long, his words didn’t make sense, but then she realized he was reminding her that it was time to get in touch with the outside world. Because Michael had informed the university that one of its senior professors had been murdered, she didn’t have to talk to them. That left her with only one call to make.

  Doc’s son had given her his number a long time ago because, as Pearson put it, Doc wasn’t as young as he’d once been. If something happened to Doc, Pearson wanted her to be able to get in touch with him.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated for at least the third time when she reached him. Jay had stepped away, allowing her to concentrate. “You shouldn’t learn this way. He loved you so much, was so proud of his only child.”

  “Yes, he was.” Pearson’s voice broke. “But it helps to hear you say that.”

  Pearson was a good person. Not only was he happily married with two young daughters, he was on the city council, planted a large garden every spring and was respected for his barbecuing ability.

  Now, as Pearson blew his nose, she desperately wished she could put her arms around him. “Where are you? I hope you aren’t alone.”

  “I’m at work but not for long. I’m going to go home.”

  “Good. Hug those girls for me, will you?”

  “I might never let go of them today. This is hell for you. I can’t think what else to say.”

  “Neither can I.”

  She kept the phone against her ear, but Pearson remained silent. A breeze caressed the trees, and one squirrel chased another around a nearby trunk. Jay provided the sole human presence. Exhaustion dragged her shoulders down, and she could barely hold up her head. Neither could she take her mind or attention off Jay.

  When she looked at him, he did the same. Compassion flowed from him. He understood what she was feeling, was privy to her deepest emotions.

  How would he react if she sagged against him? Would he support her?