She felt battered by circumstances, hollow with shock. The last thing she wanted was to answer more questions. But there was no choice. Heaving a sigh, she dug the toe of her sandal into the soft dirt to stop her swing. She got up from the swing and followed the sheriff to the gazebo by the giant sycamore tree.
This spot behind her cottage had been her refuge since she moved here three years ago, and it felt tainted by the sheriff’s presence. He’d brought the troubles with him. She couldn’t hide here any longer.
He took out his notebook. “How well do you know Jake Baxter? I’ve heard in town that you’re sweet on one another.”
The blandness of his tone softened the shock of his hidden accusation for a minute, then she gasped. “What are you trying to say, sheriff?”
“You’re together when you find Jake’s enemy. Now how does that look when I find out you’re sweet on him? I’ll tell you—it looks like you’re covering for him. But why? That’s what I want to know.”
Skye wanted to shout, but she forced herself to speak calmly. “You’re way off mark, sheriff. I barely knew Cameron. Do you have a time of death yet?”
“Yep. Yesterday afternoon around three. Where were you and Jake then?”
Three. That was before she’d shown up at the dig, before the snake incident. Jake had been there at four when she showed up, but she couldn’t vouch for how long he’d been at the site. Surely he had an alibi though.
“I was at the store,” she said finally. “You’ll have to ask Jake about his whereabouts.”
“Oh, I will.” The sheriff capped his pen and put it back in his pocket with his notepad. “One more thing, Skye. I wondered if you knew he threatened Cameron?”
“Threatened him how?” The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t go away.
“Said he’d kill him if he double-crossed him again. What if Cameron did just that? Would you still protect Jake if you knew he was a murderer? I don’t want to stir up trouble for the Baxters, but Cameron was pretty persuasive. I have to check it out, now that he’s dead.”
“He’s not a murderer, sheriff. Talk to anyone. He’s a highly respected member of the scientific community.”
“Even well-respected people commit murder, Skye. Or leave their families, or do any one of the things they shouldn’t.”
She winced at the reference to her father. “That was low,” she muttered.
He shrugged. “Maybe. But you need to wake up and throw away those rose-colored glasses. We have a murderer on the island. Cameron was bludgeoned to death. Someone hit him at least twenty times in the head with that shovel. That shows true viciousness. I’d hate for you to get in that person’s way.”
“Then find him! Or her. Have you talked to Tallulah yet?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got more important things to do than chase down a half-demented woman. She’s not our murderer.”
“What about Wilson?” Skye’s voice rose, and she gulped. She had to stay calm or Mitchell would dismiss her as a hysterical female.
“I haven’t found him yet, but he’s still high on my list of suspects, too.” He tipped his hat and walked across the lawn, then disappeared around the side of the cottage.
Skye bit her lip. She needed to talk to Jake. Pausing long enough to grab her handbag, she fumbled for her keys and raced to the truck. She drove along the roads as fast as she dared.
The entrance to the mine was blackened. The violence of the explosion looked out of place when the rest of the hillside slope was covered with vegetation and flowers. Jake’s SUV was in the parking lot and she glanced up the path to the right of the mine opening that led to Jake’s dig. She got out of her truck. Maybe she’d check with James first about the explosion. There might be some news about that.
As she neared the entrance to the mine, she saw a movement from the corner of her eye. Jake was leaning against the mine door.
He pulled his canteen from his belt and took a swig then saw her. “Good morning.”
“Did you find anything?”
He nodded. “Looks like an explosion was set off. I told James to call an explosives expert, though maybe the sheriff will do that.”
“That might shake up his preconceived certainties.” She told him about Sheriff Mitchell’s visit this morning.
He was shaking his head as she talked. “Sounds like I need to contact a lawyer. He’ll be coming for me any time.”
“We have to figure out who the real killer is,” she said.
“So you don’t think I did it?”
“Of course not! And I don’t think Sheriff Mitchell does, either. He’s a little lost on where to look.” She lifted her chin in the air, and her gaze caught his. She spiraled down into the tenderness in his dark eyes. His fingers grazed her chin, and he bent his head.
She took a step back and gave a shaky laugh. “You rattle me too much, Jake. I need to keep my distance.”
“I think I’m the one being rattled,” he said softly. “You’re right though. Thanks for the reminder.”
His face was impassive once again, and if she didn’t know better, she would have sworn there had never been the yearning she’d glimpsed in his face. “So where do we start?”
Jake rubbed his chin. Skye noticed the dark stubble along his jawline and wondered if he’d even gone home to bed. He looked weary.
“Cameron had an assistant—Brook Sawyer.”
“I’ve seen her around town.” Skye nodded. The young woman seemed to idolize Cameron. “Let’s go talk to her. Any idea where we might find her?”
“Maybe she’ll be at his dig packing things up.” He nodded around the other side of the mountain.
“You want me to drive?”
“I’ll do it.” He dug his keys out of his pocket and led her to the SUV. They drove around the access road to the other side of Turtle Mountain. “There she is,” he said, nodding toward a lone figure carrying a backpack to a gray midsize car that was parked just off the road.
He pulled the SUV behind the car, and they got out as a young woman of about twenty-five arrived at the automobile. Her wispy blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and dark circles shadowed her blue eyes. Thin almost to the point of gauntness, she had sinewy muscles along her legs and arms.
Her gaze darted from Skye to Jake and back again. “What are you doing here?” She dropped the backpack and stood with arms folded across her chest. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
“I’m sorry about Cameron.” Jake’s tone was mild.
Brook blinked but maintained her belligerent stance. “I’ll bet. You hated him, and now he’s gone.” Her voice was thick, and her eyes filled.
Jake sighed. “I didn’t hate him. I didn’t like some of the things he did, but we’d been friends once and I didn’t want to see him hurt.”
“Did you kill him?” Brook thrust out her jaw.
“No. But I want to find out who did. Don’t you want that, too?”
“Yes.”
“Then help us figure it out. He asked me to meet him out there. He said he knew who took the eggs. Do you know anything about that?”
Brook glanced from Jake to Skye. “Maybe.”
“Then tell me.”
“You just want your eggs back.”
“I won’t lie and say I don’t want to recover the eggs, but I want to find out who killed Cameron, too.”
“If I help you, will you make sure he’s recognized for his aid in the recovery?”
“Don’t blackmail us,” Skye put in. She could empathize with the young woman, but she was growing tired of the manipulation.
Brook threw up her hands. “This isn’t blackmail! But, whatever, I’ll help you.”
Sky softened her tone. “Sorry. We need your help. If you want to find Cameron’s killer, you’ll help us. Do you know who took the eggs?” Skye thought maybe Brook would be more apt to answer her questions than Jake’s. The animosity she felt toward Jake was palpable.
“No, but I know Camero
n met with the person several times.”
“Man or woman?” Skye still thought Tallulah was the most likely culprit, and she kept remembering Wilson’s babble about the Spider Woman.
“I never saw the person except from a distance. I couldn’t tell if it was male or female, though the person was only a little shorter than Cameron.”
Tallulah was as tall as many men. Skye pressed her questions. “Where did they meet? Maybe we can track down the eggs that way.”
“There’s another old miner’s shack deeper in the woods behind the one where he was killed. Near the east side of Turtle Mountain. They met there.”
“So that person probably killed him,” Skye said.
“Maybe.”
“Did you tell the sheriff this?” Skye asked.
“No.”
“Why not? Don’t you want Cameron’s killer found?”
“The sheriff only asked me about Jake’s relationship with Cameron. I didn’t think about it at the time.” Brook rubbed her forehead. “I was too upset to think. I suppose I should tell him.”
“I think we’ll run out and see what we can find while you tell the sheriff what you know,” Skye said.
Jake had never been this deep into the North Woods. The lack of noises of civilization was a little unnerving. No drone of cars, no hum of machinery, no human voices.
“Kind of far in, aren’t we?” He paused to wipe his forehead. The taste of insect repellent was bitter on his tongue. The buzz of insects around his head comforted him in the absence of other noises.
“We’re almost there.”
“Have you been out here before?”
Skye nodded. “I’ve been all over the island in my search for herbs and roots. I don’t come here much, though.”
“Why not?”
“It was my dad’s favorite place to hike. It hurts too much to remember all our walks through here.”
“You want to go back? I can go alone.” He’d thought she looked a little pale, but he’d thought it was because she was tired.
“No, I’m fine.” She brushed past him and continued along the path. “This trail has been an Ojibwa hunting trail for centuries. It leads back to the mountain to a sacred site where our ancestors prayed and began the hunt every spring.”
“Did you come here often with your dad?” Maybe it would help her to talk about it.
She nodded. “Nearly every week. Most of what I know about herbs and roots I learned from him. His mother, my grandmother Eloise, was the tribe’s medicine woman and she taught my father everything she knew.”
“And he passed it on to you.”
“Yes.” She fell silent then pointed ahead. “There’s a clearing through that brush where the old miner’s cabin sits.” She picked up her pace and plunged through the tangle of overgrowth.
Jake followed. The brambles tore at his clothing as though they wanted to stop his advance. He felt a high sense of adventure. Maybe the answer to all their questions would finally be found here. He was tired of being in the dark. He wrenched past one last tug of thorns and entered the clearing. Skye stood staring at a lean-to that was nearly covered over with vines and brush.
“That’s it? Why would they meet there?”
She shrugged. “It’s remote and a fairly easy place to find since the trail leads right here.”
“Who all knows about this trail?”
“Any Ojibwa knows.”
“You think the murderer would be Ojibwa then?” He said the words with a bit of caution. He didn’t want to put words in her mouth.
She bit her lip. “Most islanders don’t wander the woods in this area. It’s part of the Ojibwa reservation. I can’t imagine any of my people who would do this.”
“What about Wilson New Moon?”
“Oh, no, he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“Could he have seen something here? He’s still hiding out somewhere, right? Something scared him.”
“I’d forgotten about that,” she admitted. “I should try to find him and bring him here, see if he saw anything.”
“I’m probably grasping at straws,” Jake said. He was too tired to think clearly. At least Brook would tell the sheriff what she knew, and maybe Mitchell would get off Jake’s case.
She smiled. “Maybe.” Skye walked toward the lean-to. Kneeling down, she scanned the ground.
Jake joined her. “My dad was a master at finding things in the woods. He could spot mushrooms everyone else just walked right past.”
“What’s this?” She reached for a key on a key ring. It was still shiny so it hadn’t been out here long. The key had a dot of blue paint on it.
“What kind of key is it?”
“It looks like a car key.” She turned it over and looked at the key ring. “From Turtle Bank.”
“That’s your stepfather’s bank, isn’t it?”
She nodded, and he thought she paled.
“Does it look familiar to you? You look funny,” he said.
Her fingers closed around the key. “It could belong to anyone. Peter gives these out to all the customers.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She frowned. “It looks like my cousin’s key. See this dot of paint on it? He uses it to differentiate between keys.” She pointed to the smear of blue.
“Why would Michael be out here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he was mushroom hunting.” She stood and brushed twigs from her slacks. “Let’s look around a little more.” She moved toward the lean-to and went around behind it.
There was something she wasn’t telling him, but he could tell by her manner that she wouldn’t say anything more. He followed her. Just behind the lean-to, the ground sloped upward into the mountain. A hole in the mountain was nearly overgrown with brush.
“What’s that?” He pointed to the opening.
“An old mine shaft. I think it leads into the Mitchell tube eventually. My dad always wanted to explore this side of the mountain, but the access was a problem.”
“You ever been in there?” Not that he wanted to explore it. His stomach churned at the thought.
“No, my dad would never let me. It’s been abandoned for decades and isn’t safe.”
As Jake turned around, he saw a shadow flit from tree to tree. “Hey, you there!”
Skye whirled to look, too. “Wilson, I want to talk to you.”
Wilson’s moon-shaped face poked from behind the tree, then he jerked around and took off.
“Come back!” Skye took off after Wilson. He raced along the path as if a demon were after him.
Skye was soon panting from the thick humidity. Jake ran with her.
“I’ll catch him!” He accelerated past her toward Wilson’s bulky figure.
Chapter Fifteen
Skye caught up with Wilson and Jake at the edge of the clearing. Wilson had been running for all he was worth, and Jake tackled him from behind. Jake gave her no chance to do more than gasp as he caught Wilson by the arm and lifted him to his feet.
“What were you doing spying on us?” Jake demanded.
The whites of Wilson’s eyes rolled up, and he shook like the aspen leaves above their heads. “I didn’t do nothing,” he said. His lips trembled.
Skye grabbed Jake’s arm. “Let him go. He won’t run, will you, Wilson?”
The man shook his head. “What do you want?”
Jake let go of Wilson’s arm, but he continued to stare at him with wariness in his manner. “We want to ask you some questions.”
Wilson stood rubbing his arm. He shuffled from one foot to the other. “I don’t know nothing.”
“Do you come here often?” Skye used her most gentle tone. Wilson was terrified enough, and she didn’t want to upset him any further.
The man nodded. “It’s my place.”
Jake opened his mouth, but Skye quelled him with a look. “Do you ever see anyone else here?” she asked Wilson.
He nodded. “Sometimes.” He ducked his head and didn’t l
ook her in the eye.
“Anyone you know?”
“Maybe.” He looked crafty.
“Have you seen Cameron Reynolds here?” Jake burst out.
“Let me handle it,” Skye hissed.
Jake subsided with an impatient huff.
Wilson stood with his mouth agape and a distant expression on his face. “I don’t know no Cameron.”
“He digs in the ground,” Skye prompted.
“Like him,” Wilson said.
“Yes, like Jake here. You were at the cabin last night. Someone hurt him.”
“I didn’t see nothing.” Wilson shrank away.
They’d better change the subject or they would lose him, Skye thought. “He was trying to find eggs. Have you seen any rock eggs, Wilson?”
He nodded. “Seen lots of them.”
“Where?” Jake put in. His rising voice betrayed his eagerness.
Wilson shrank back. “There,” he said, stretching out his arm.
Skye turned to look with Jake toward where Wilson indicated. The man was pointing at the entrance to the old mine shaft. “In the mine?”
Jake paled. Skye’s stomach sank. She didn’t want to go in there, either. “We’ll tell the sheriff,” she said.
“The Spider Woman put them in there. She was pretending to be a man, though.”
“What man?” Jake and Skye said in unison.
“When did you see her put the eggs in there, Wilson?” Jake asked.
“Sometime.” Wilson looked vaguely off to the side. “Before the dark man came.”
“Does he mean Kimball?” Jake asked.
“The dark man who digs in the ground with Jake?” Skye asked.
Wilson nodded. “Before that. It was night, and the Spider Woman brought them.”
“The Spider Woman or a man?”
“They’re the same,” Wilson said, confusion clouding his eyes.
“Okay, how do you know the Spider Woman is a man?” Jake asked.
Wilson shook his head in confusion. “He was bad. He hit the other man with the shovel. Bam, bam!” Wilson pantomimed with his hands as though he held a club. “He whacked him again and again until he didn’t move anymore. Then he ran away.”
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