Shadow Canyon (A Coyote Wells Mystery Book 2)

by Vickie McKeehan

  Callie was the expert on so-called tribal legends. Callie knew shamans. Gemma needed whatever expertise the wise old woman was willing to dish. Direction would not only be appreciated, but when shown the path celebrated.

  At ninety, the medicine woman seemed to have more energy than a thirty-something on four mocha lattes. Callie stood barely five feet in height, with white hair she wore in a braid down her back that almost reached her ankles. She reminded Gemma of a jovial pixie with a twinkle in her eye who was one step away from sprinkling fairy dust.

  Not that Callie would have ever deviated from her Native roots. Of that Gemma was certain. So when she stood in Callie’s living room, making her case, she did her best not to melt down and show how desperate she was. Since Callie was her best shot at figuring out psychic stuff, she needed a quick course on remote-controlling her visions.

  “I’ve always been level-headed and practical until Gram died. For the past three months I’ve been all about trying new things. So I’m really trying hard to understand how I got here. I seem to be at the mercy of three of the most powerful shamans who are confusing the hell out of me.”

  “You seek answers.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Gemma admitted, going into detail about the heist that killed two guards. She went on about the predicament she found herself in with little evidence to prove her case. “This has gone on for thirty-four years. It’s time the guilty parties are caught.”

  From this point, Gemma softened her approach. “Callie, you have to help me. I have to see beyond the robbery. I have to see who’s behind those masks. I need to see it play out. I need to see what they do after they get the money, where they go, what they drive, the make of their cars. It’s all essential to tracking all of them down. I need to see who they are with my own eyes.”

  “You’re asking an awful lot of your ability,” Callie grumbled. “It’s a gift, not an order form.”

  “But can you help me? Put me in some kind of trance, hypnotize me, or something---I don’t care---anything, as long as I can ask Aponivi for help. He said I needed to right a wrong. How can I do that if I don’t know the truth? You said Aponivi is the holder of truth. That’s what you said. If that’s true, then he needs to let me see the truth so I can spread it around.”

  “You spoke to Aponivi? You had a conversation?”

  “Me? Maybe a sentence. At the canyon. It was hard to get my mouth to work. Mostly, it was Aponivi who spoke to me. I heard his voice. It was there one minute and gone the next. I didn’t see him like I did Kamena. If I could only set eyes on him maybe we could connect, and he’d somehow help me get better at this. This quest to find all three of them was supposed to take my gift to a higher level. It hasn’t. Now I know how the tribes felt. I feel like I’ve been left on my own to figure this out. I feel abandoned.”

  “That is your weakness. You give up too easily. You’re too impatient.”

  “Do I have to be standing in Shadow Canyon for this to work?”

  Callie shook her head. “If you want to connect with Aponivi you don’t have to seek him out. With each vision, you’ve already proven that you don’t have to physically stand in Shadow Canyon to learn the truth. You had the first vision at your house, right around the corner from where we are now. The second played out for you near the cave. The third was out on the old logging road. It matters not where you are but how strong your heart is, how willing you are to open your soul to the truth.”

  “Okay, so what do I do to bring one on and make it last long enough to see the beginning and the end, all the way through?”

  “Are you certain you want to see what happened badly enough that you’re willing to transcend yourself into the past?”

  “Like an out of body experience? Is that the only way?”

  “It’s a ritual as ancient as the tribes. If you want profound clarity and the ability to see beyond the initial vision, it is the only way.”

  Gemma swallowed her fear. “Then let’s do it.”

  Callie headed into the kitchen to put on the kettle for tea and Gemma followed, her enthusiasm beginning to wane.

  “It would be better if your friends could be here to form a circle.”

  “If my friends were here they wouldn’t let me do this. If anything goes wrong, if I should have a bad reaction or something, could you call Lando’s brother Luke for me? He’s a doctor. Here’s his number,” she said, scrawling the information down on a pad on the counter.

  After pouring the tea into a pot, Callie lit an altar of aromatic candles, cleansing sage and sweetgrass. She put on music, lilting flutes and gentle drums.

  Gemma settled back on the sofa, her stomach beginning to flop before she ever let the tea pass her lips.

  Callie handed her a large mug, the eighteen-ounce variety filled with a substance that looked more like rusty water than tea. “Drink it all.”

  Gemma did as she was told, chugging the bitter, foul-tasting liquid until she could see the bottom of the cup. “What happens now?”

  “Shh. Focus. Concentrate. Meditate. Let the spirits know what you want to see. Let Aponivi know.”

  Gemma heard singing, tribal chanting, and saw dancing around a fire. She smelled the wood burning, flicker orange, and saw the flames reach out toward the sky.

  Gemma shifted, barely able to see Callie sitting across the room from her before she floated upward and into the sky. She hovered over the canyon until she ended up in a hut, sitting in a circle with other members of her tribe. The elders were rubbing sage and sweetgrass on their hands and offering the herbs to the fire. It flared and flickered, sending sparks out into the night.

  She looked up to see a blast of white light that formed a circle. She called to Aponivi. He came on the silvery wind and lifted her up into the glowing light. He carried her through a rainbow of fiery flames, brilliant colors that popped and whirled around the canyon like a lightning storm.

  When she finally got the courage to look down, she saw that she floated over the hairpin curve. The flashes of lightning stopped. The sea of wind ceased its stormy approach. Aponivi turned off a switch and it became summer, a beautiful clear day in July with hardly any clouds in the sky.

  She watched the traffic on the Interstate until finally she saw the armored car come into view with the Wells Fargo emblem on the side.

  It all happened fast. Two identical red pickups sped into view. At first the drivers of the trucks followed the armored car, and then stepped on the gas to pass. Once in position, both vehicles forced the larger armored car off the Interstate and onto an exit ramp where another red pickup waited.

  It was all possible because the driver of the armored car was part of the ruse. He knew what was about to happen and went along with the detour. As soon as the armored car pulled to a stop on the curve, the five men in masks jumped out with guns drawn.

  The scene played out in vivid color. Everything was so crystal clear she could stand in awe of the powerful weaponry involved. That is, until the two guards fell out of the back of the truck, bleeding and wounded, the wonder of it all vanished.

  She saw every detail. She saw every face. She knew what happened after it was all over.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  When her eyes fluttered open, the first thing she heard was a siren in the distance. Then mutterings from several people all trying to talk at once. The voices blended in her head, indistinct, imperceptible, more like white noise. People moved around her in blue and white blurs.

  She was in a hospital, a bed, that much she could tell, lying flat on her back, hooked up to an IV.

  Her head felt like someone had crushed her skull with a hammer.

  Her eyes finally focused on one face. Lando. He was holding her hand and had tears running down his cheeks. She’d never seen him cry before, not in all the years she’d known him, not even when he fell off his bike.

  When she tried to say something, she realized an oxygen mask covered her nose and mouth. Someone took her blood pr
essure and checked her pulse. A little box with a screen monitored her heart rate.

  “Is she gonna be okay?”

  “We pumped her stomach, flushed her system, which is probably why she’s coming around now. Gemma, can you hear me?”

  Gemma moved her head or tried to.

  Lando leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You couldn’t breathe. The EMTs said you lost consciousness and resorted to intubation to get you to the hospital.”

  That would explain the raw throat. “How long…have I been here?”

  “Six hours. Luke took you off the ventilator a few minutes ago when your lungs checked out and you did just fine.”

  “Good news.” She started to ramble. “I saw everything. The heist…they hid the money in the cave…our cave…at Shadow Canyon just like Elnora reported seeing. I stayed with it until I saw…what happened. I know who pulled it off, every single one of them. I saw them without the masks. I saw…details, the trucks they used, the reason the case…went cold. Now we just have to connect it all with...”

  “Shh. Shh. There’s plenty of time for that. Rest now. You took an awful risk drinking that stuff. It’s a hallucinogenic.”

  “Whatever it was it worked. Don’t blame Callie. She…and Aponivi…showed me the truth. That’s why I went there. We’d have never solved it if I hadn’t. When do I get to go home? When do we get back to work?”

  Lando turned to Luke. “Any chance she’ll get out of here today?”

  “Are you kidding? We’ll see how she feels over the next twelve hours. Right now, she’s stuck here until tomorrow morning at least.”

  “Hear that?” Lando said. “No complaining. Be glad Callie realized you were in trouble and called 911.”

  She tried to sit up on her elbows but fell back into the fluff and softness of the pillows. “Rufus. Someone needs to look after…”

  “I’ll take care of the dog. Listen to your doctor.”

  Luke sent Lando a brotherly look. “I’ll try not to make her worse. If only I had some of that prickly pear wonder juice on hand.”

  “It worked for me,” Lando reminded him.

  “Figures,” Gemma whispered. “Lando here drinks prickly pear juice and rises like Lazarus. I drink weird tasting tea and almost go comatose.”

  “You drank pure mescaline, a byproduct of peyote,” Lando stated.

  “Callie’s not in trouble, is she?”

  “As long as she sticks to her story that you were attending one of her church services, she has nothing to worry about.”

  “Church service? Sure. It’s true. Thanks to Callie, I might’ve seen the Great Spirit, talked to him, too. After what I saw, we should be on a first name basis.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Grab something to write with and a pad or get a recorder. I’ll tell you the best way to track them all down.”

  23

  Nothing like an overnight stay in the hospital to redefine a person’s priorities. Luke had let her go home but was adamant she had to stay in bed another day. She didn’t try to renegotiate the terms. Instead, she accepted her fate and took it easy. After all, she had her grandmother’s journals for reading material and Lando to baby her.

  He led her into the bedroom where she got undressed and crawled into her own bed. With Lando standing watch and tucking her in, she felt cared for and loved. He closed the drapes, blocking out the sunlight, and whispered, “Get some rest.”

  “It’s weird wearing my PJs in the middle of the day. I’m sorry I put a dent in your forty-eight-hour window.”

  He lifted her chin. “I’m sorry you thought you had to resort to drinking mescaline to recreate your vision.”

  “But it worked.”

  “Maybe. Zeb and Payce are still checking out everything you saw. It’s a slow process. But Zeb is as stoked as I’ve ever seen him. He’s convinced the heist will finally get solved and take the burden off the reservation.”

  “Lydia mentioned that the feds were sure the perpetrators were from the Rez. They weren’t.”

  “Zeb and the tribal council agree with you. They’ve always been convinced the killers were outsiders. Now they have a semblance of something to work with, something to back that up.”

  “You’ll see it was for the best.” Yawning, she slid under the covers and rolled over, falling into a peaceful slumber.

  Hours later, she woke to the sound of Lando’s voice, giving commands to Rufus. She got up and wandered out into the kitchen. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Rufus had gone through the doggie door and back again. Twice.

  “How did you get him to do that?” Gemma asked, dropping down on one knee to take the dog’s head in her hands. “Aren’t you a good boy?”

  “I downloaded a series of instructions off the Internet that claimed they were sure fire.”

  “Your only day off in weeks, and you spend it working with my dog.” Her arms went around his waist. “I think I love you. Get him to do it again.”

  “Come on, Rufus. Go outside. Go on. Show her what a smart boy you are.”

  Rufus complied by scooting through the opening.

  “Amazing. I’d given up.”

  “Are you hungry? I made you soup.”

  She glanced at the stove where a pot simmered. “You made soup? Are you sure Leia didn’t drop it off and then you dumped it in a pan to warm it up?”

  “Nope. It’s your favorite. I made it from scratch.”

  Sniffing the air, she took a guess. “Potato soup with chunks of bacon?”

  “Right the first time. You didn’t eat much in the hospital.”

  “Having your stomach pumped tends to put you off food.”

  “You sit down, and I’ll grab a bowl.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Do you ever get the feeling that we could use some major alone time?” Gemma wondered. “Without people always dropping by.”

  “Definitely.” The ringing became pounding. “Alone by ourselves with no one around to interrupt meals or bedtime sounds too good to be true.” Lando threw back the front door. “What?”

  The mayor stood there nervous and impatient. “You said forty-eight hours. You gotta keep Louise from telling my wife about Mallory. You gotta do something.”

  “Shut up, Fleet. Quit your whining. Gemma needs peace and quiet right now. Haven’t you heard, she just got out of the hospital.”

  “Oh. Sorry. But you said…”

  “I know what I said. If finding a killer was that easy, you’d be doing it. Now go home and make it up to Madison. You’re a politician. Keep stalling Louise and give me time to do my job.”

  “But you’re not even in the office.”

  “Working from home today, Fleet.” With that, Lando shut the door in his face and headed back into the kitchen.

  “Lando, your cell phone’s ringing. The number comes up as the county medical examiner.” She handed him the phone.

  “Bonner here. What did you find? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. Thanks, Jeff.”

  “What was that all about?”

  “Mallory’s lab results. Alcohol content came back to .08. That’s legally impaired. Tuttle says she wasn’t sexually assaulted after all. But the fact that she was almost drunk could’ve been the reason she was taken down so easily. Plus, the DNA under her fingernails came back as female.”

  “Drunk and fighting with another female? That’s the Mallory I knew,” Gemma declared, sending him a wide smile. “How does it feel to be right?”

  “It’ll feel even better when I obtain a sample to compare it to.” He keyed in a number on his phone. “Judge Hartwell, I hate to interrupt your lunch, but I need a warrant to obtain DNA.”

  Nothing that came out of his mouth could’ve surprised her more. “You’re sure about this?”

  “I’ve never been surer of anything. I’ll be gone a few hours. Eat your soup and get some rest. The next couple of days could be a wild ride. I’ll need you at the top of your game.”

  “I’m not sorry I
took that stuff. But I wouldn’t do it again.” She threw her arms around his neck. “We make a good team.”

  “Keep that line of thought open until I get back. Should I call Lianne to sit with you?”

  “I’ve already fluffed off enough of the work on Lianne that she can handle. I’ll be fine. Go do your job. Don’t worry about me.”

  After he left, she faded in and out, sleepy and tired until she woke hours later to find Lando sitting next to the bed, strumming his guitar. A bubble filled with pure love swelled inside her. “This reminds me of that time I had the flu and you came here to sing to me.”

  “You were fifteen and sick as a dog, nose as red as Rudolph, barfing up a lung every time you coughed.”

  “Don’t remind me. I thought for sure I’d lose you to Rowena Hartwell, who had the audacity to be as healthy as a horse that day.”

  “Nah, not me. Zeb was always the one hung up on Rowena.”

  “Really? Cause I thought you used to follow her around on the playground and push her on the swings.”

  “I was seven and gullible. Zeb, on the other hand, stalked her plain as day until he was fifteen. Judge Hartwell came close to taking out a restraining order.”

  “Good to know. How’d collecting the DNA go?”

  “Let me tell you, she was not a happy camper. I thought Zeb would have to sit on her while I swabbed her mouth. I dropped the sample directly off at the lab. Tuttle said he’d put a rush on it. We should know if it’s a match very soon.”

  “This town will never be the same again, will it?”

  “Maybe it’s for the best. With you solving the heist and me finding Mallory’s killer, things have to turn around for both of us.”

  “Public opinion is a fickle creature. When it shifts to our side, I like it. I’m getting my appetite back. How does Chinese sound for dinner? Happy Wok delivers.”

  “Or we could eat in. I could throw some eggs and bacon together and then put on some music or we could watch a movie.”