Spirit Lake

by Vickie McKeehan

  “Could we be that lucky?” Zeb declared.

  Luke was more skeptical. “Why do you think that right off? It could be anybody.”

  “Just a hunch. Hey, Jimmy, give me the location. Then start tailing Sam Wells. I don’t care if he knows you’re following him or not, just don’t get into a confrontation with the guy.”

  “You got it, Chief.”

  “Come on, guys. Let’s go take a look at these bones.”

  Inside Coyote Chocolate Company, Gemma had been listening to Lianne explain the depth of Sam’s shell companies. Taking a break, she brought over two iced mochas and set one down in front of Lianne. “I hate to throw a wet blanket on your enthusiasm, but I don’t think it’ll be all that easy to bring Sam down. He knows what he’s been doing is illegal. For all we know half his buddies are in on the con.”

  “Then what should we do?”

  While sipping her drink through a straw, Gemma sat back and let the wheels turn in her head. “He’s bound to suspect we’re getting closer, right? We keep backing him into a corner until he feels like there’s nowhere else to go.”

  “But won’t that make him lash out at you and Lando again? That sounds hazardous to your health.”

  Gemma made a face. “That’s the downside. But maybe he’ll get careless. I don’t like the prospect of putting Lydia through that kind of scare again. But hey, catching a serial killer comes with risks. And life goes on in the meantime. One of us needs to take the deposit to the bank.”

  “I’ll do it,” Lianne offered. “I can’t believe that rat has control of the town’s money. My savings account isn’t much, but I don’t want it used to fatten Sam’s portfolio. Could his shoddy business practices actually cause the bank to go under?”

  “Only if this gets around and there’s a run on the bank. Look, I need to run an errand.”

  “And do what?”

  Gemma gave her a faint smile. “Wedding stuff?”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m trying not to.”

  “Wherever you’re going you’ll need someone to watch your back.”

  “I appreciate it, I do, but I’ll be fine. I’ll drop off the deposit at the bank on my way…home. It’s almost two now, so if you could lock up for me that would be great. I doubt I’ll be back by closing.”

  “Why so mysterious? Three hours is a long time to spend taking care of wedding stuff at home.”

  “I have to do this by myself. It’s just the way it is.”

  “If you go out that door and get hurt, Lando will never forgive me for not coming with you.”

  Gemma put her friend in a hug and grabbed a backpack she’d already filled with the supplies she needed. “It’s nothing that will get me in trouble. I promise.”

  By the time she reached the bank, Gemma realized that since she’d been back in town, she had yet to establish a true routine. Life had been upside down since her grandmother’s death and showed no signs of letting up. Never a dull moment in Coyote Wells, she mused, as she stepped into the bank lobby.

  It wasn’t until after she’d left the teller window and folded her receipt that she noticed Jimmy sitting in one of the expensive leather chairs.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Jimmy got to his feet. “Since Lando and Zeb are checking out another body, I’m here keeping an eye on Mr. Big Shot.”

  “Another body? Where?”

  He rattled off the part of the highway that was closed. “The road crew was putting down new asphalt near that old section of Deadman’s Curve this morning and stumbled on bones.”

  “Wow. I wonder if that could be Sam’s main squeeze during the time she went missing. You know, Charlene Wofford?”

  “Nah, Lando thought it had something to do with the B Street Pier.”

  Gemma clutched her pendant and shook her head. “Nope. I don’t think so. See ya around, Jimmy. Things to do, places to see.”

  “See ya, Gemma.”

  She was tempted to head straight for Deadman’s Curve, but decided her time would be better spent taking care of an issue that had been nagging at her.

  Since mentioning it at the sleepover, she’d decided to try to increase her talent threefold. If one shaman held a certain kind of gift, then what would happen if all three came together in one place?

  She had to try to find out.

  Spirit Lake was the source of the original power. She figured that much out for herself. To seek out Kamena, Aponivi, and Salisaw as one, she had to think outside the box. Calling on them to help her seemed logical, even practical. But calling on them to appear together seemed risky…not to mention, a long shot.

  She had a spot in mind for the ceremony, or ritual, or whatever you wanted to call it. The clearing existed, she just had to locate it. She’d seen it enough times in her head.

  After leaving the Volvo in the parking lot, she headed off down the trail every local hiker used at one time or another to get from one side of the lake to the other. The Bonner cabin was located straight across the water. But that wasn’t her destination.

  Thirty minutes into her trek, she came across another path that took off in an easterly direction. She took out her phone from her pocket and a bottle of water from her backpack. Slugging back the liquid to rehydrate, she studied the app on her phone, a navigational tool she’d downloaded just that morning. Although it didn’t have a typical needle like a regular compass, she’d discovered her phone could act as a magnetometer, searching out the Earth’s magnetic field, and tap into the data for directional purposes.

  The app took her north and deeper into the forest until she came to a meadow ringed by towering redwoods. In the middle of the glade was a huge chunk of gray rock, flat and smooth at the top, five feet in diameter and about five feet above the ground. It was like a slab left over from something used in Native ceremonies. For all she knew, her ancestors might have gathered here to sing and dance and share their bounty with other villages.

  Even though this wasn’t quite a clearing, she scoped out the area before dropping her backpack on the ground. Convinced this was the spot she’d seen in her head, she began gathering rocks to form a circle.

  She’d brought dried, white ceremonial sage with her to cleanse the area. She lit the wand and began to smudge her way around the loop of rocks, calling to the ancient shaman for help. She took out braided sweetgrass from her pack and lit that, making her way around the circle a second time, chanting for her mystical spirit guides to make an appearance.

  To get closer to them, she scaled the stone, taking up a position as high as possible. Sitting cross-legged on the flat surface, she called out to Salisaw first.

  After several minutes of meditation and then chanting, nothing happening. More chanting, and she began to feel silly. Determined not to give up though, she tried Aponivi. After a full ten minutes of trying to summon him with no results, she called out to Kamena, pleading her case directly to the female part of the group. But that effort was met by the same stony silence.

  The only sound she heard was the breeze whipping through the tree tops around her. A few minutes went by and the gusts began to intensify, whirring and whistling toward her.

  She stood up and waved her arms in the air. “What gives with you guys? You want me to do this, you think I can, yet you refuse to help me out when I call for help? That’s cold.”

  The wind kicked up. This time the gale was so strong it knocked her back a step, lashing around her, bringing with it an eerie, midday fog. She clutched her pendant, wrapping her fist around each stone and stood her ground. She shouted into the wind, “Turquoise for protection. Moonstone for truth. Lapis for power.”

  “True power,” a warrior’s voice bellowed out from the sky. “You are the holder of power few have ever received and yet you dare ask for more?”

  A bright light appeared out of the fog. Gemma spotted Salisaw sitting astride his stallion, looking displeased.

  She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. In a strong
voice, she answered, “I’m trying to help people, my people, the ones I care about. I ask only to get better, not for myself or for personal gain. You once told me this land was sacred, but there are those who want it only for themselves. They want to take away from others, enriching themselves beyond measure. If I’m to bring this darkness out into the light, I need to be able to see more, do more, like my grandmother did before I came here. Marissa Sarrazin helped her town as Kamena instructed me to do. Marissa righted wrongs as Aponivi suggested. You said my grandmother had a true heart, and she did. But my grandmother is no longer here, gone because of greed and evil doers. The thing is her spirit remains in my heart. I try to do what’s right, but I’m finding the way not as easy as I thought.”

  “This one’s heart is true,” Kamena roared, her voice echoing out from the circle. “Her path is true. She merely seeks our guidance, nothing more, nothing ominous about her request.”

  Aponivi appeared on a gust of wind. “Truth is the greatest of all weapons. She must be allowed to see fully if she is to help her people.”

  Salisaw drew his horse closer and looked down into Gemma’s face. “The others have spoken. So shall you have all that is necessary. But heed my warning. Do not abuse our gift to you. Do not abuse your power. There are no allowances for personal gain. You must do right by your people. Always. You must never turn your back on those who love you.”

  Salisaw came even closer, so near that Gemma could see the glint in his warm brown eyes. “Clear your mind of every doubt you’ve ever had about yourself. Open your heart even further to the possibilities of the future. Focus on all those who you’ve ever cared about helping. Let the spirit of Marissa grow within you, be as strong as she was. Go forth with as much love in your heart as she had for her village, her people, her family.”

  Gemma looked up to see each shaman standing together over her, more powerful than any mere stones she wore around her neck. In their light was truth and in that truth was empowerment, an inner strength she never knew she had. Until now.

  23

  Emboldened and enriched, maybe even inspired, Gemma drove back to town. Her first stop was across the street from her own Coyote Chocolate Company where Madame Renaud, her so-called competition, had set up shop.

  Ms. Renaud had put up several signs in the window. One read PSYCHIC in big, bold letters and “clairvoyant” in smaller type. On the other part of the glass the words “tarot cards read here” had been hand-painted in a vertical fashion. And on the opposite side, another claimed to read palms.

  Without knocking or ringing the bell, Gemma stepped inside. “Anyone here?”

  A woman of perhaps fifty stepped past a beaded curtain. “I wondered when you’d come calling.”

  “I saw your signs. Hard to miss. Looks like you have all the bases covered. But I should warn you right up front, that if you’re here to rip people off, you’ll have to go through me to do it.”

  “Ooh, tough little cookie, aren’t you?” the woman fired back. “Now I’m really scared. Like I haven’t seen your kind before. You think you’re too good to split the cut, but people like us, we know the score. There’s always enough to go around, especially when you’re just as phony as I am.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just what I said. If I tell you something about yourself that’s true, you’ll pack up and head back to wherever you came from.”

  “Bakersfield. But you couldn’t pay me to go back to that hellhole.”

  “Fine. Then keep heading north as long as it’s out of Coyote Wells. Deal?”

  Madame Renaud’s brow creased. “Let me get this straight. You’re gonna tell me something about myself that no one else knows? How do I know you didn’t find stuff about me online?”

  “I found plenty. Your real name is Twyla Miller. You were born in Oklahoma.” Gemma tossed out a month and the year, which made Twyla five years older than anyone would’ve guessed. She kept going with facts and arrest records, none very flattering to Twyla, and listed all the places Twyla had lived through the years. “But what no one knows about you is that you fell in love when you were fifteen and had a son that you were forced to give up. Your parents made you sign adoption papers right after he was born. You’ve been looking for him ever since you turned forty with no luck.”

  The snark went out of Twyla. “How do you know all that?”

  “Would you like to know where he ended up? I can tell you if you promise to leave, fold this carnival tent you’ve set up, and keep moving.”

  “How do I know you aren’t just stringing me along?”

  “Because I’m not.”

  Twyla dropped into the nearest chair. “How could you have found my son when I haven’t been able to? I’ve paid private investigators, scam artists if you ask me in their own right. I’ve gone to one of those genealogy professionals. They told me there was something not right about his adoption. It’s like my parents sold him and there’s no trace of him left, like he never existed.”

  “If it’s been that difficult to find him, do we have a deal then? Because I assure you he did exist and still does.”

  “Yeah, I guess we do. So, tell me. Where is he?”

  Gemma looked around for a notepad, settled for a sticky note instead, and wrote down an address, then handed it off to Twyla.

  “He’s in Canada? Those lousy SOBs. Are you sure about this?”

  “Positive. I’m also sure if you go back on your word, I’m calling the Austin authorities and telling them where you are.”

  “No problem. I’ll start packing tonight.”

  “Great. Good.” Having finished what she’d come to do, Gemma turned to head for the door, but thought of something else. “And Twyla, it wouldn’t hurt to try another line of work. You’re really lousy at this particular con. You like to cook. Why not turn that into an honest job? You could use your grandmother’s old recipes right off the farm and write a cookbook. That stuff is so trendy nowadays you’d probably have a best seller on your hands in no time.”

  Twyla looked downright impressed. “How do you know all this stuff?”

  Gemma winked. “Never mess with someone who can see the real you, the inner you. You aren’t a horrible person, Twyla. Not yet. You should think about finding an alternate path before you end up spending five to ten in an overcrowded prison cell, though. Because that’s where you’re headed if you don’t change your ways.”

  Gemma’s last stop before heading home was Van and Nova’s little storybook house not far from Paloma’s. It was almost an exact replica of Leia’s Tudor home except for the old-world village charm⸻where fairy tale met up with English country cottage. The pointed roofline had a whimsical appearance, touting deeply sloping gables, wavy timbering, and a chimney made of clinker brick. The cobblestone front steps led to an archway and then to a batten-type, boldly-painted, blue front door.

  She knocked and waited, musing that their house looked like it might belong to Dopey, Bashful, or Sneezy, or any of the other Seven Dwarfs.

  When Allie answered, the little girl started jumping up and down. “The bride’s here! The bride’s here! I’m gonna be your flower girl.”

  “So I hear.”

  “I got a new purple dress and a bow for my hair.”

  “Lavender,” Nova corrected from behind her daughter. “It’s lavender to go with the lilac bridesmaids’ dresses. Come on in and take a look. I promise the outfit won’t clash.”

  “I trust you and the color. I’m not worried about it.”

  Nova sent her a puzzled look. “A bride that isn’t going off the deep end if something doesn’t match? What gives?”

  “It’s just a dress. I’m sure Allie will make an absolutely perfect flower girl. Look, is Van here? I’m in kind of a hurry and there’s something I need to ask him.”

  “He’s in the garage putzing around with his woodworking stuff. Do you know that man is seriously planning on trying to fix up that old VW bus?�
��

  Gemma chuckled. “I got that a couple of weeks ago. Lando can’t wait to help him do it.”

  “It’s ridiculous because it’ll probably end up costing a fortune.” Nova let out a sigh. “But if it makes Van happy and keeps him out of my hair at times...what’s the harm, right? The garage is detached. Go on around back. Don’t sneak up on him though. He hates that.”

  Gemma flashed her a smile. “Thanks.”

  She followed the narrow driveway to a one-car garage and heard some type of electrical tool blasting from the interior along with rock music soaring out of a set of ancient speakers.

  Van wore a pair of torn jeans, a filthy T-shirt that had once been white and a pair of goggles with noise-blocking earmuffs. He stood in front of a table saw sending a piece of lumber through a sharp, toothy blade.

  She tried knocking but that was useless. She doubted he could hear a bomb go off. Waving her arms toward him, she attempted to get his attention. “Van! I need to talk to you! Van! Hey, Van!”

  He finally caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and cocked his head to listen. It was only then that he looked up and spotted her. Reaching underneath the table, he switched off the machinery and removed his ear protection. When he tried to talk, he realized the music was deafening and reached over to lower the volume. “I thought I heard someone sneaking up.”

  “How is it you haven’t gone totally deaf already?”

  He flipped up his goggles and pointed to the headgear. “These babies are pro-grade. They’ll even keep out Black Sabbath. What’s up?”

  “I’d like you to give me away.” The stunned look on his face told her the idea had never even crossed his mind. “You know, when I get married…in ten days. I know this is short notice but…”

  “You want me to give you away?” Baffled, Van stared at his younger half-sister as if he’d just met her. “Why me?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be you? You’re my brother. We share blood. You’re the logical choice. So, will you?”