Shadow Bones

by Colleen Rhoads

  And while she was at it, she’d see if this key she’d found was Michael’s. If his father was at the reservation now, Michael was likely there as well. She pulled out the key. “This look familiar, Mom?”

  Her mother picked up the key. “Not really. There are hundreds of them around town.”

  “I think it might be Michael’s. He paints his keys like that. I can check it out when I go out to the reservation.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “In the meadow where I talked to Wilson.”

  “You’ve got one too many salads prepared, Skye,” her mother said.

  Skye looked down. “Um, didn’t I mention I invited a guest for supper tonight?”

  “No, you did not.” Her mother smiled, a sly grin that made Skye gulp and look away. “The handsome paleontologist, right?”

  “Jake and I had strategy to plan on how to figure out who killed Cameron.”

  Her mother’s smile faded. “I wish you wouldn’t get involved with that, Skye. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I live for danger.” She grinned to show she was kidding, but her mother’s sober face didn’t lighten.

  “I’m not kidding, Daughter.”

  “I know, Mother. I’m just joking. I’ll be fine.” She jumped at a knock at the door. “That’s probably Jake. I’ll get it.” She hopped down from the stool and hurried to the door. She swung it open and smiled at Jake.

  She was kidding herself to say her heart didn’t leap like a deer at the sight of him. His dark hair was still wet from his shower, and his freshly shaven chin made him look especially appealing. Dressed in khakis and a black shirt that deepened the darkness of his eyes and hair, he brought a surge of excitement to the room.

  “Am I too early?”

  “Nope, you’re right on time.” She stood aside to allow him to enter. “Peter isn’t home from the bank yet, but supper will be ready in about half an hour. We can plan strategy until then.”

  He held out a bouquet of flowers, and her chest squeezed.

  “I brought something for your mother,” he said.

  The flowers were for her mother. Her pulse settled down a slow blip again. She should have known better. Jake had made it clear he thought of her only as a friend, even if he’d taken a step in her direction last night. It was foolish for her to wish for something more.

  “I’ll get a vase for them. Mother loves flowers.”

  He followed her to the kitchen. “Something smells good.”

  “Jake brought you flowers, Mother.” Skye grabbed a vase from the shelf and filled it with water than put the flowers in it.

  “How sweet of you, Jake! I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starved, especially after smelling it.” He sniffed, and a slow grin spread across his face. “How about you ditch Peter and marry me?”

  “Do I hear you making time with my woman?” Peter entered the kitchen. He shook hands with Jake. “You seem to be holding up well. Any news from the sheriff?”

  Skye smiled at her stepfather. He never knew a stranger and could put anyone at ease. His presence had added a warmth to the group. She wondered if Peter really liked Jake or if he was pretending for her sake.

  She glanced at Jake out of the corner of her eye. What was not to like? Handsome, personable, he exuded a confidence that was compelling.

  At least to her. She glanced at her mother and noticed the doting smile on her face. Maybe Jake had that effect on all women.

  Jake kept up a steady stream of easygoing conversation, and Skye noticed Peter and her mother relaxing as they all ate. She showed the key to Peter, but he said lots of people did that and he didn’t think it meant anything. Jake ate two pieces of apple pie and downed three cups of black coffee before Peter offered to help her mother with dishes.

  Skye took Jake to the family room. Minx, the black cat she’d had since she was fifteen, took one look at Jake and proceeded to climb his pant leg.

  He stroked the cat’s fur as he settled back against the overstuffed cushions on the sofa. “The sheriff hasn’t come looking for me, has he?”

  “Nope. Maybe the gun casings were enough to convince him.”

  Jake nodded. “It’s about time.” He leaned toward her. “I had an idea.”

  The suppressed excitement in his voice startled her. “Oh?”

  “What if I leave some less valuable eggs out and have Joe off duty so they’re unguarded? You could drop me off so there’s no vehicle around, and maybe the culprit will take the bait.”

  Skye didn’t like the sound of that. “I don’t want you doing it alone though. How about if we park the SUV in a secret spot I know?”

  “Okay.”

  She hadn’t thought he would agree. “When do you want to do it?”

  “How about tomorrow night? Things will have died down a little. Could you start a rumor around town that I’ve found something even more exciting? Maybe Joe could tell a few people that he’s sick or something.”

  “News travels fast in a small place like Turtle Town,” she agreed. “It might work. Maybe we should draw the sheriff in on it.”

  “Okay. Before it gets dark so our shooter doesn’t see the headlights.”

  “About six?”

  “Great. Meet me at Windigo Manor.”

  The next morning, Skye parked her old truck in front of the reservation’s general store. The building’s weathered gray facade looked like it could have been plunked down in a John Wayne Western. She skirted the missing board in the walk and went inside.

  Michindoh, the big Ojibwa who ran the store, looked up from arranging pots of thimbleberry jam on the counter. “Hey, Skye. What brings you to the rez?”

  “Looking for my uncle Louis, Michindoh. Have you seen him lately?”

  “Sure, he just came in from a trip to the wilderness a couple of days ago. I think I saw him going into the casino.”

  Figures. The only other thing Uncle Louis liked more than the wilderness was a slot machine. She thanked Michindoh and went down the street to the casino.

  The glittery building was in sharp contrast to the rest of the sad storefronts. The excitement inside was palpable with the noise of coins being dropped into slot machines and the sounds of players calling to one another at the craps table.

  Skye hated the casino. She’d seen the vice of gambling destroy her people with the merciless grip of greed. If she had her way, they would all be swept off Ojibwa land.

  She went straight to the slot machines. Her uncle was the only one playing the machines. He sat hunched over a machine near the middle of the bank of one-armed bandits. His long gray braid at the nape of his neck hung nearly to his waist, and he wore a leather vest over faded jeans.

  “Hey, Uncle Louis.” Skye sat beside him.

  He gave her a vacant smile that sharpened when he saw her. “Skye, what brings you out here?” His gaze was drawn back to the slot machine. He scowled. “Stupid machine is rigged.”

  “Can I talk to you for a few minutes?” she asked.

  “Sure.” He whacked the machine with the flat of his hand and stood. “Want a pop? We can go to the diner.”

  “Okay.” She followed him out of the casino, breathing in the fresh air with the eagerness of a drowning man coming up for air. The stale cigarette smoke and the stink of booze made her feel dirty.

  The diner was empty at ten in the morning. They slid into the red, cracked seats and ordered soft drinks.

  “You’ve got that look on your face,” her uncle observed. “You’re here for a reason.”

  She nodded. “Wilson New Moon claims to have seen my dad. I figure if he’s around, he would have contacted you. Have you seen him?”

  Her uncle’s eyes widened, and she didn’t think the shock on his face was feigned. “Your father—are you sure?”

  “That’s what Wilson says.”

  “I think he’s pulling your leg. I’ve heard no rumors about your dad being back.”

  She tried to hide her disappointment. “That’s
what Mother says. But Wilson seemed positive.”

  “Why would he come back? Your mother married Peter right away. He had to feel betrayed.”

  “Oh, Uncle Louis, you know that’s not true.” It was an old argument. “Father had been gone three years before Mother divorced him for desertion. What was she supposed to do—wait the rest of her life for a man who just walked away from his wife and daughter?”

  “He would have come back,” her uncle said, his jaw thrust out.

  “When? It’s been eight years. I think if he had any intention of coming back, he would have at least called. He’s never even sent a card.”

  A shadow crossed Uncle Louis’s face. “He will. He won’t let that mine go.” He leaned forward. “How’s the extraction going? Any diamonds yet?”

  “We had an explosion a few days ago. It caved in the Mitchell tube.”

  Her uncle winced. “You’ve got to get it opened, Skye. Your dad knew it was there.”

  She chose not to answer that. “Where would Father hide out if he decided to come back?”

  Uncle Louis rubbed his chin. “Maybe the old tube along Duncan Creek.”

  “I was out there yesterday. It’s all overgrown.” Skye frowned as she tried to think of the terrain. The soil was so rocky nothing much grew out that way except brambles so she hadn’t had much occasion to hunt for herbs there. Could her uncle be thinking of a different tube along the old mine?

  He shrugged. “Your dad was always a dreamer. He called that his poet cave. He used to go there and write poetry for your mother, for all the good it did him.”

  “She’s never shown me the poetry.” Skye wasn’t sure about this new side of her father. He’d been so focused on the mine, she never dreamed he was so romantic.

  “She probably threw them away.”

  “I doubt it.” Skye had seen other mementoes in the cedar chest in the attic. She’d never delved too deeply into the old chest—it hurt too much.

  “Part of that mine belongs to me, you know.” Her uncle took a slurp of his soda.

  This was an old argument and one that had caused the family to splinter. Michael still pressed the issue, too. “Let’s not get into that again.” Her shoulders slumped. She wasn’t up to this today.

  “Your father promised me my half if I worked for him. I worked for him for ten years and never got the first bonus.”

  “He paid you a good wage.”

  Her uncle snorted. “Harry promised me diamonds. I don’t have so much as a diamond ring for my pinky finger. You’ve got to find those diamonds, Skye.”

  “I’ve been trying. I think my father was just a dreamer, Uncle Louis. If he was so certain they were there, why did he leave?” It was the eternal question that haunted her.

  Her uncle studied the bubbles in his soda. “I’m sure he had his reasons.”

  “Like another woman?” Skye had been wanting to ask that question for years. She didn’t dare utter it around her mother, but it would explain a lot.

  “Your father worshipped your mother! He never looked at another woman.”

  “Did he get in trouble with the law?”

  “You know how he was always pushing religion down my throat. He’d give himself up for jaywalking.”

  Skye let out her breath in a huff. “Then why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Her uncle’s brows drew together, and she knew he hated having to admit ignorance. Skye drained the last of her pop and stood. “Thanks for the information, Uncle Louis.” She stopped and turned. “Hey, does this key belong to Michael?” She pulled the keychain from her purse.

  Her uncle stared at it. “Maybe. Want me to give it to him?”

  “I’ll be seeing him at the mine. I just thought you might know. I thought he might have dropped it when he was checking out the other side of the Mitchell tube.” She kissed her uncle’s grizzled cheek and went to her truck.

  She and Jake were going to catch a murderer. It was obvious Wilson had meant he’d seen her father years before, not recently. She’d known all along that was the likely explanation, but at least she’d learned a little more about her father today.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sun was a golden orb in the sky as it sank over the mountain and into Lake Superior. Jake hunkered down behind a group of boulders with Skye. He’d thought to bring a blanket and a Thermos of coffee for the long night ahead, though he hoped the culprit would come out of hiding before dawn.

  The light scent Skye wore wafted to his nose on the early evening breeze. He tried not to notice. There were too many things about her that appealed to him. Watching the breeze lift the tendrils of hair that escaped her long braid, he felt like a drowning man watching a passing ship. This feeling that burgeoned in his heart was something he’d never felt before.

  How could he love her? He choked on his coffee as he pondered the problem.

  “You okay?” Skye’s dark brows winged upward and she patted him on the back.

  “I’m fine.” Being near her was a torture he both craved and feared. The blood thundered in his ears, and he looked away. He didn’t want her to read the expression on his face. He felt like a rock atop Turtle Mountain—exposed to anyone who cared to look.

  Skye didn’t seem to notice he was antsy. She settled onto the blanket and took a sip of her coffee. “Uncle Louis says my father might be hiding out in that tunnel we saw the other day.”

  “It looked overgrown.”

  “I know, but maybe he was good at hiding it. I think I’ll check it out tomorrow.”

  “Not alone, I hope.”

  She glanced at him and grinned. “Want to go with me?”

  The thought made bile rise in this throat. He’d glanced inside and it was like a grave. “Not hardly.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “Think you’re smart, don’t you?” He took her hand to prove to himself he could be near her and be unaffected. Her fingers curled around his in a way that made him feel like Paul Bunyan. Why was he so afraid of committing himself, of settling down in one place? Maybe it was a matter of trust, as Kimball had said. Jake liked being in control. Thinking about giving that up was like stepping off into an abyss. But maybe it was time he did just that.

  Skye said God didn’t want us to let fear rule, but he wasn’t sure how to get past it. Maybe step into the abyss and admit his feelings.

  The crunch of gravel brought his head up. He peered over the rock. “Someone’s here.”

  Skye looked, too. “It’s just Pop.”

  “Why do you call him Pop?”

  She shrugged. “He’s like a dad to me. He’s tried really hard to fill the void my dad left. They were good friends.”

  Jake frowned. “Could Wilson be talking about James? Maybe he was confused. Has he ever heard you call James ‘Pop’?”

  “I don’t know.” She didn’t want to believe it, but it made sense. It was the final death knell to her hopes. Her father hadn’t come back. Wilson was just confused again.

  The foreman went inside the mine, and Jake and Skye settled back to wait again. Jake kept possession of her hand, and she didn’t protest. He had to say something or he would explode.

  He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. He saw her shiver.

  “Don’t do that,” she said. She didn’t pull her hand away though.

  He moved closer and trailed his other hand up her arm to her cheek. “You look beautiful in the moonlight.” He told himself to just say the words.

  “Why, you must say that to all the girls.”

  “You’re my girl and the only one I want to say it to.”

  She went still, but he heard her catch her breath.

  “Am I your girl? I hadn’t realized.” Her gaze searched his face.

  It was now or never. “I’ve been fighting it for weeks, but I can’t do it any longer. I realized tonight I love you, Skye. I didn’t want to, but there it is.” He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. The muscles in her neck moved as she
swallowed.

  Her eyes seemed to grow soft and luminous in the darkening twilight. “Are you having a joke on me?”

  “It’s not something I would joke about.” He leaned forward, and his lips met hers. The sweetness of her breath mingled with the scent of pine from the needles under them. He closed his eyes and let the love wash over him. Why had he been so afraid of this moment?

  She uttered a soft cry and wrapped her arms around his neck. The kiss seemed to last an eternity, then she pulled away and gave a gentle sigh. “I love you, too. I’ve loved you for weeks, I think, but I don’t want to. We’re too different. This isn’t real.”

  “I’m not laughing,” he whispered. “What I feel is real enough that I want to marry you.”

  Had he really said he wanted to marry her? He’d shocked himself, but he wasn’t taking it back. They could work out their differences on the direction their dreams took.

  “Marriage?” Her voice trembled. Her steady gaze locked onto his. It felt as though she looked deep into his soul. “Are you sure you can be happy living here?” Her breath whispered across his face.

  He stiffened. “Can’t we compromise? Part of the year here and part of the year on a new dig?”

  Her face tightened. “What if my father comes back? I wouldn’t want to leave him.”

  “Skye, you can’t live your whole life waiting for your father.”

  She bit her lip. “I can’t leave here, Jake.”

  One of them would have to be willing to give up a dream, he thought, as darkness fell over the mountain. One of them would have to have enough love to take a step back from what they thought they wanted.

  He wasn’t sure if he could. He watched her in the shadows, and the love he felt seemed to grow until his chest felt like it would burst. Still, he couldn’t see staying here forever. He didn’t understand her fear of leaving the island.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” he said. She’d see reason. She had to.

  Skye wanted to sing, to jump to her feet and dance across the tops of the peaks around her. Jake loved her. How could that be? Surely, he could be happy here if he tried. And she thought he wanted to try. He hadn’t said he wouldn’t stay. She allowed the hope to squelch the cold, hard reason that lay in the pit of her stomach. He didn’t share her faith. They had to talk about that.