Dark Spirits of the Forest

by Michael Weinberger

  Jett had heard the term before, but he had always thought it one reserved for a different ethnic background.

  Penchant caught himself in his words and he turned to Jett, “Sorry, no offense”.

  Jett simply nodded as the Chairman sighed and visibly tried to calm his thoughts, “Our own police here in Odanah only have a total of four officers, including the Chief of Police, which means there is only one officer on duty at any time. There’s no way they can handle the burden of what is coming this weekend. We need those extra officers, in addition to our own people working security, if the events are going to go off without major issues.” The chairman looked at Jett, “I’m sorry but nerves are generally frayed right now in the community.”

  Some more than others, Jett thought, but didn’t share those thoughts with the room.

  Penchant took a breath and then spoke as if making an official announcement to the entire room, “Anyone in favor of allowing our visiting Shaman to walk the grounds, with the expectation that he in no way interferes with the upcoming events, raise a hand.”

  All hands except the Chairman’s rose into the air.

  “Fine,” Penchant said with some exasperation, “but if you interfere in any way with what we are doing, I will demand you leave the property and our land, which you will then do without further complaint, agreed?”

  Jett didn’t think this was the time to tell the Chairman he would do whatever he felt he needed to do regardless of the Tribe’s wishes. He was here on Pinga’s behalf, not the Tribe’s, but agreeing would get more accomplished then otherwise.

  “Agreed.”

  Chapter 9:

  The police station in Ashland was twenty minutes away and it was absolutely bustling with activity when Jett and Ursula arrived. The Ashland police department boasted a minimum of nineteen police officers, and it looked as though most of them were currently at the station in a heightened state of apprehension. About six uniformed officers sat at desks, either filling out paperwork or answering phones, while the remainder all carried tactical shotguns and wore their Kevlar vests. Jett shook his head at the commotion, thinking it looked very much like a scene in a movie where the police were about to forcibly enter a bank filled with well-armed bank robbers.

  Jett turned to Ursula, “Do a little eavesdropping and see if you can find any word on where those hunters might be. I’ll try the direct approach.”

  Ursula nodded and moved gracefully into the waiting room where about a dozen or so civilians sat, marveling at the spectacle playing out within the station.

  Jett moved to the reception desk and greeted the female officer behind the desk, “Hello there. Looks like there’s a lot of activity tonight.”

  The officer didn’t look up from her computer as she responded in a tired and frustrated voice, “You can say that again. Give me one sec to enter this last thing.”

  Jett waited as she clicked a few more keys on the keyboard, hit “return” and then let out a steadying breath, “All right, thanks for that, now how can I…” The officer looked up from her computer screen and hesitated as she looked at Jett.

  “Problem officer?” Jett asked as the officer’s face, which had momentarily worn a helpful expression, dropped into something more akin to exasperation.

  “What do you want?” she asked him.

  “Excuse me?” Jett replied.

  The officer looked away, “The Rez police station is in Odanah. I suggest you take up your problems with your people. Besides,” she beckoned to the activity happening behind her, “we have our own issues tonight.”

  “Wow,” Jett was so bamboozled by the shift in demeanor and the underlying racism behind it that he couldn’t manage to say anything else. At least not for a couple seconds, “First of all, I’m not Ojibwe, so I have no affiliation with the Bad River tribe in Odanah.”

  The officer looked back to Jett’s face and held him in her gaze as if he were about to explode and give her a reason to draw her gun.

  “Second, let me speak to whoever is in charge.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” she accused.

  Jett‘s face lost all amiability, “Don’t I look serious enough for you?”

  The officer frowned and didn’t back down, “Or what? Are you threatening an…?”

  Jett let out an exasperated breath of his own, “Ashland survives on tourism these days, right? Tourism specifically surrounds outdoor activities, like camping, boating, hunting, fishing and now, perhaps gambling?”

  “What?” The officer’s eyes shifted a little bit in confusion regarding his change strange of topic.

  “Just a question, but let me expand on it. With the increase in tourism comes the increased need for a larger police force. This requires funding from the State, right?”

  A couple of the officers in the background stopped fiddling with their weapons and began paying attention to Jett.

  “Now how do you think it would look to the duly elected State representatives if the city of Ashland were refusing to serve the well-being of its tourists, based upon race? I believe the area is already under a State, if not Federal spotlight, for what is happening in Amnicon Bay?”

  The noise in the entire station dropped as Jett mentioned Amnicon Bay and almost every uniformed eye in the room began to regard him warily.

  An older officer, also clad in Kevlar, handed the shotgun he was holding to the man next to him and walked over to the desk.

  “There a problem here?”

  Jett waited a moment before taking his eyes off the officer he had been talking to, and then cordially addressed the new arrival.

  “Hello officer, I can see it’s a bad time, but I need to speak with whoever is in charge for a moment, even if it is just to introduce myself.”

  “Who are you?” the officer inquired.

  Jett knew it was way outside of his jurisdiction, but he pulled out his wallet and flashed his old California Fish and Game Badge. It wasn’t a complete deception as the department had put him on extended leave instead of letting him resign.

  The new arrival scrutinized the I.D. and then said, “You’re a long way from home.”

  “Just looking for a little bit of cooperation, that’s all.” Jett said.

  The new arrival stared at Jett, as if studying his face would reveal secrets, or maybe provide answers. The silence persisted until the female officer who had been manning the reception desk said, “Chief?”

  Jett’s eyebrows raised at the title as the Chief of Ashland Police said, “I’ll handle this myself, Molly. Make sure the rest of the people in the waiting area are assigned an officer as soon as someone staying behind is available.”

  To Jett, the Chief said, “Come around and I’ll buzz you through.”

  Jett walked over toward a door off to his right. Glancing back at Ursula, Jett could see her make an attempt to rise from her chair to join him, but he waved her off. Ursula understood and resumed her conversation with the people in the waiting room, checking each of their stories for anything that might be related to why she and Jet were here.

  Jett waited for the buzz and then opened the door as the Chief met him in a hallway. “Everyone be ready to go in five!” he called back into the general area as he walked Jett to his office.

  The Chief opened the door for Jett and beckoned him to have a seat, “All right, I’m Lawrence Tull, Chief of Police here in Ashland, and in case you didn’t pick up on it I have about five minutes of time to spare for you.”

  “I appreciate that Chief.” Jett shook the outstretched hand that was offered to him, before the man moved behind his desk and sat in his own chair. “My name is Jethro Carle and I just wanted to touch base regarding the missing outfitter from Odanah.”

  The Chief nodded, “You see all the men and guns out there?” Jett nodded, “Well that’s the search party about to go out and try to find our missing outfitter.”

  Jett frowned, “Seems like a lot of guns for a search party.”

  “We have a tremendous a
mount of ground to cover, we could get spread pretty thin and we have brown bears in this part of the world.”

  “And the Kevlar?”

  The Chief laughed, “You ever seen a Grizzly attack?”

  Jett thought back six months ago and remembered the way Benjamin had ripped the enemy apart while in his bear form, but just shook his head in response.

  The Chief nodded and said, “Anything that can keep you alive for a few more seconds before the claws can rip you open you is a good thing.”

  “So, you think you’re dealing with a bear?”

  The Chief sat back heavily in his chair, “All I know is those three young men walked out of the woods terrified and telling some unbelievable story about what happened. Honestly, I don’t really know what is happening out there, I suppose we could be dealing with a bear, but…”

  “What?”

  The Chief waited, contemplating whether to speak, then seemed to come to some internal conclusion and began, “What I am about to say stays off the record and between you and me, okay?”

  Jett nodded, but the Chief wasn’t satisfied, “This stays off the unofficial books as well.”

  “Got it.”

  “All right. The real reason I was willing to speak with you, even with all that is about to happen is because I wanted to pick your Game Warden brain a bit about what you might have been experiencing in your neck of the woods. See if there might be any similarities.”

  “Similarities?”

  The Chief nodded, “We’ve got ourselves a Meth problem here.”

  “Methamphetamines? You mean users in town?”

  “No, manufacturers setting up cooking labs in the woods like the old-fashioned moonshiners used to do. It’s happening all over in the more rural areas of the country, but we have an additional difficulty here because the “bad guys” are making their product on Reservation land, which we can’t police. Now I can’t say the Tribe knows about this and is turning a blind eye, but even if they wanted to bust these men, the Rez doesn’t have the manpower to stop production. The result is the manufacturers can cook up their product pretty much undisturbed on the Reservation’s land, transport it here into Ashland and then divide it up amongst their dealers, who come to town acting like regular tourists, before disseminating it into Green Bay, Milwaukee, and the other larger cities. Do you see the problem?” the Chief asked.

  Jett nodded his head, “We had a few illegal pot farms that we discovered and turned over to the DEA, but nothing like what you are describing.”

  The Chief nodded sadly, “Dang, but I was hoping you’d have a little insight on how to deal with this. We’re still a really small town and police force.”

  “Why not call the DEA?” Jett said.

  “Well, you said it yourself. You found the pot farm. I haven’t found the cooking labs. I have to tread very lightly before I alert the Fed about something like that occurring on the Rez.”

  “And that’s because, if you’re wrong the whole thing will be seen as a racial issue, or worse.”

  “Exactly, and anyway I’m still only guessing here, but it seems the most likely situation. Between you and me, I think those boys ran into some disreputable individuals who felt the need to protect the secret of their meth lab and tried to kill the lot of them. The story the hunters told was pretty spectacular, but stress can make a person a little crazy.”

  The Chief looked at his watch, “The tracking dogs should be here any second so I need to literally ‘rally the troops’. Sorry to cut this short.”

  Jett stood, “I really appreciate you taking what time you could.” Then he added, “Sorry about the scene out front.”

  “Same here. Molly’s a good officer, but she’s had more than a few run-ins with the Tribe. In truth, they all have. Tensions have been running high for a long time out here, and with the city loaning our people out to the Tribe as a glorified security detail for their little party this coming weekend… Well, let’s just say it didn’t mend any fences. I don’t know if it makes a difference or not, but what you experienced out there was more a result of a kind of distrust between the people of the town and those on the Reservation. It’s a distrust that goes both ways, yet I’d hesitate to consider it racism.”

  Jett knew the Chief was trying to mend fences, but he seemed sincere and had enough to deal with so Jett extended his hand, “Did you want another couple of bodies out there? My partner and I are pretty good in the woods.”

  “Nah, let us do our thing first, but leave me your contact info. If we come up empty, then I’ll take you up on your offer and I can better explain why I brought in some non-local help.” He said.

  “All right then, good hunting.”

  “Appreciate that,” the Chief responded as he guided Jett out of his office and was about to rejoin his men when Jett stopped as a final question came to him.

  “Chief, if I wanted to speak to the hunters, where would I find them?”

  “They’re staying at that newfangled modern art cabin called the Blue Wave Inn. It’s right on the shore of Lake Superior and it’s supposed to be pretty nice. We’ve asked them to extend their stay for a couple days, in case we needed to ask them any additional questions. City is paying for it, so they obliged, but do me a favor and let one of my officers arrange the meet and be present if you’re going to be inclined to speak with them?”

  “Fair enough,” Jett agreed.

  “Good, I’ll let Molly know it’s okay.”

  Chapter 10:

  Three hours after their visit to the Ashland Police Station Jett and Ursula were looking out of the window at the beautiful view from one of the rooms at the Blue Wave Inn. The sun was setting and reflecting its myriad colors off the surface of Lake Superior’s waters as John Abramson, the hunter who had been with Stephen LaRose the night of his disappearance, returned with three Styrofoam cups of coffee. The rooms at the Blue Wave Inn all had complimentary Keurig coffee machines with an assortment of K-cups, a complementary perk advertised by the Inn and one in which Ursula, comfortable in caffeine being her addiction of choice, thought was particularly exciting. Jett could see the man’s hands shaking as he carried the cups, but he doubted the jitters were as a result of too much coffee. One look at the dark circles under his eyes was enough to tell he was still obviously shaken from his ordeal in the woods despite his lack of any apparent physical injuries.

  “Are you feeling up to this?” Jett asked, as Ursula quietly stirred her coffee.

  “I’ve gone over it so many times now, what’s once more?” John muttered.

  “Well, you might find Ursula and I are more… open minded than anyone you have spoken with before.”

  The young man looked up suspiciously at Jett, “You’ve heard?”

  “That your side of the story was something more like a fairy tale than an eyewitness account? Yes, but I have a feeling the version you’ve told so far may have been…” Jett paused to consider the most polite way to phrase the next word, “…tame.”

  “Tame?”

  Jett nodded, “I think you knew how impossible your story was going to sound, so you edited some of the really wild stuff out because you were afraid everyone would think you completely crazy.”

  “Or guilty,” Ursula added.

  The hunter immediately looked worried, “Guilty?! I was assured I was not a suspect and that I…”

  “You’re not,” Jett confirmed, “but I want you to tell me your version, and no matter how unbelievable you think it might be, I want to know everything.”

  The hunter appeared worried, but Jett added, “Please, tell me everything. I don’t want you to hold anything back.”

  The young man thought for a moment before stating, “As long as you promise anything I say is not going to get me in trouble.”

  Jett and Ursula looked uncomfortably at each other before Ursula advised, “If you tell us anything that would implicate you in a crime, then we can’t…”

  “No,” the young man interrupted, “not a crime.�
��

  “Then what?” she wondered.

  “Promise me that this discussion, and anything I say, is not some kind of test of my psychological well-being in order to commit me, or some other such thing.”

  Jett let out a breath, “That, I can promise.”

  The young man then seemed to relax a little, slumping forward in his chair before taking a sip of coffee and finally setting his cup down on the dining table.

  “We were just moving through the woods. Having fun, probably making too much noise to catch anything more than a cold, but it was the first time the three of us had been able to get together since college, and we were just excited to be together and out in the woods again.”

  Jett sat back in his chair, sipping his own coffee as the young man talked about how the guide had become spooked by something and actually drew his sidearm. They all had become really nervous when they saw the gun, because its purpose was for protection against bears, but everybody relaxed when the guide gave an all clear sign. They had thought the moment was over and were talking about going back to the truck when their guide spooked again. Suddenly he was shooting into the treetops and when they looked up to see what he was shooting at…well, that was when they saw the ghost.

  “A ghost?” Jett had said out loud before he realized it.

  The young man just raised his shoulders, “I don’t really know what it was, but that is the best name I can come up with for it.”

  Ursula asked, with interest now evident in her voice, “What makes you think it was a ghost?”

  “At first I thought it was a man hiding up in a tree. Then as I stared at it I could see that it wasn’t standing on a branch but it was actually floating a couple of feet in front of the tree, and about twenty to twenty-five feet off the ground.”