by TM Simmons
Channing's stomach soured as she waited for Russ. Dealing with a situation where someone evil hurt children was something everyone on earth should be livid about. She had considered long and hard before she decided to go into family practice, including pediatrics. She had known even before she had Rose that it would be extremely hard to deal with a child who died from a medically untreatable disease. And it had been and was. However, she wanted her skills to be used in the best way possible, and she gave her all to the parents of those children.
Until she lost Rose, though, she hadn't even come close to realizing how deep those parents' grief went. What a huge hole the loss of a child left in a mother or father's heart
"Well," Russ said, drawing her attention back to their conversation. "The guy the FBI caught down in Missouri was a peewee football coach. He molested those tiny tots who wouldn't understand what was happening to them. Who would also be vulnerable to threats about what would happen if they told. He was one of those mild-mannered types, everybody's friend. You've seen the reports on TV. Neighbors swear they just can't believe this guy was a child molester or a serial killer. Whatever. Ted Bundy was everyone's friend, remember? The true crime writer, Ann Rule, admitted she was friends with Bundy. He was so likeable, she couldn't at first believe the signs that pointed to him being the serial killer."
"I remember," Channing said. She sensed someone else in the kitchen and looked around to see Keoman at the table, using the tongs to fill the salad bowls and Nodinens pulling down dinner plates from the cupboard.
"Russ," she said before he could give her any more information. "I'm far too new up here to have any idea whether what you're telling me fits someone or not. But Keoman and Nodinens are locals. Would you mind if I put you on speaker? And you can repeat what you've already said for them, too, if you will."
"Certainly," Russ agreed.
Channing pushed the phone's speaker button and asked Keoman and Nodinens to join her as Russ continued, "Hello, Keoman. And Nodinens, thanks for calling Grace's mother so I could get access to her. Well, I guess access isn't the right word, but you understand what I mean. Anything we can uncover to perhaps keep another child and family from suffering is what we're after."
"We understand, Doctor," Nodinens said. "What have you found out?"
Russ explained his background and repeated what he had already told Channing. Keoman and Nodinens exchanged glances as they shook their heads negatively. Evidently, neither of them could think of anyone who might fit Russ's description of the possible culprit.
"This man's probably never been married," Russ went on. "Or if he has, it didn't last long before she divorced him. Probably after they had a child of their own and she realized he had the capacity to hurt it. She may have disappeared for hers and the child's safety. He does publicly date women, even have affairs. The most important thing to remember about him — and I feel comfortable saying your pedophile is male — is that he's a sociopath. He has no conscious. He feels no remorse. He does what he does for his own personal satisfaction and enjoys hurting others."
"Have you ever treated anyone like that?" Keoman asked.
Russ laughed scornfully. "Trying to rehabilitate a sociopathic child molester is like trying to bring someone who's been dead for a year back to life. It's a useless quest. The only thing you can do with them is lock them up and throw away the key or give them the needle."
When he paused for a moment, Channing noticed the looks of shock on her friends' faces.
Russ sighed, a sound clearly distinguishable through the phone. "I'm sorry if I went overboard. But this touches a sore spot with me. Not that I've ever had anyone I love affected by a situation involving a sociopath's trail of destruction, but I've counseled patients who have had to deal with it. You try to keep your distance so you can rationally help your patients. However, sometimes the situation is just too horrible for them — and you —to deal with. I've had fair luck helping a few people get over their trauma from having to deal with these type of incidents. However, my success rate is far from a hundred percent."
"I'm sorry, Russ," Channing said. "Sometimes there's just no cogent reason for the evil we have to deal with in the world."
"So very true, Channing. Look, I wrote this up and emailed it to you. There might be some more information in my notes in addition to what I've said here. I tried hard to distance myself and write down all my thoughts and experiences that might help you identify this malicious bastard. I also copied Grant. Hope that was all right."
"That was a good idea. Grant will probably call me as soon as he can after he gets it. I haven't seen him since I was in Duluth. He probably thinks I'm back in Texas."
"You take care of yourself, Channing," Russ said. "And you, too, Keoman. I hope you'll keep me informed about yourself."
"I will," Keoman said. "And thanks for all your help. In both situations."
After Channing disconnected, Nodinens silently led them over to the table. For the most part, the delicious meal went uneaten, except by Dan Walking Eagle, who hadn't been privy to the conversation with Russ Densmore.
Chapter 38
Channing tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep without success. Grant hadn't called, and she hadn't felt like being involved in the discussion that Keoman and Nodinens began over coffee after dinner. She even forwent Nodinens' offer to drive her back to pack some of her own things. The dead dark outside made her hesitate, and she decided to use borrowed clothing for the one night.
Russ's explanation repulsed her. In her own practice, she'd reported two recent cases to the child protective agency. Now she wondered if the caseworkers had been hoodwinked by the men who hurt her tiny patients or if the abusers had been made to pay for their horrible acts. She'd been told she would have to testify and willingly agreed. However, neither case had been close to a court date the last time she checked. Instead, counseling was still ongoing. She swore to herself to monitor any cases like this more closely from now on, make sure anyone who hurt a child was incarcerated for their foul deeds. No longer would she trust someone else to handle that.
About halfway through the night, her thoughts turned to Nenegean. More and more she believed the entity had returned to exact vengeance, and probably death, on the man hurting the children in the Northwood. She wished she could contact Nenegean, talk to her … help her. Channing hadn't ever considered herself a vengeful person, but should she come face to face with the man Nenegean sought, she wasn't sure she could bring herself to just turn him over to the authorities. According to Russ, he couldn't ever be rehabilitated.
Giving up her quest for sleep, she went to the small desk in her room. She carried her billfold and credit cards in her laptop case, so she had her computer with her. It booted up quickly, and she sighed when she found the information she sought. Minnesota didn't have a death penalty. The most a killer could get would be life in prison. She didn't know about Minnesota prisons, but word in Texas was that a pedophile would be lucky to last a month inside the walls. The other prisoners, even as disreputable as they were, didn't tolerate someone who had hurt a child.
Someone tapped on Channing's bedroom door, and she didn't have to think twice about who it was. She was wearing the warm flannel pajamas she found in a drawer, and she walked over to allow Keoman in rather than call out and perhaps disturb someone else in the house.
"I wanted to make sure you weren't angry about something," Keoman said. "You didn't say much to me this evening."
She led him over to the bed, and he sat beside her. "Not angry at you. I understand how worried you are about Nenegean. I admit, I hate having the bodyguard following me everywhere, and so does Nodinens. But I can see where you menfolk —" She shot him a teasing glance. "Where you think it's necessary."
"I hear a 'but' in there."
"But you need to understand that, at some point, I'm going to have to contact the entity again." Even in the dim light cast from the computer monitor, she saw his stony look. She hurried on before he could interrupt with
the same warning he had given her more than once.
"Face it, Keoman. Although you found the cavern, you haven't had any luck tracking Nenegean. And I'm not going to sit around any longer, waiting for another child to be taken so Nenegean can misguidedly protect him or her."
"Misguidedly?" he asked.
"She's thinking somewhat clearly," Channing explained. "However, I don't believe her mind is anywhere near lucid. There's no guarantee she'll take the next child she seeks to protect directly to the cavern, where he or she will be safe until your men get there."
"If she goes to the cavern," he said, "we'll get her immediately. There are men camped out inside and out of it right now."
"And what after that?" Channing stood to pace, his asinine comment irritating her. "She'll be dead … or back in her own dimension, which she might not be able to return from again. And this sick bastard will still be hunting down little kids! We can stop this, if we work with Nenegean rather than destroying her!"
"Channing, you don't have any idea what you're saying."
She whirled on him, forgetting to keep her voice down. "What? I'm just talking out of my ass, because I'm a poor little southern belle who doesn't know anything about dealing with the supernatural? Who needs protecting from the big bad wolf? At this point, Nenegean has shown that despite her lack of intelligence — at least, intelligence on the level we think someone should have — she's still smarter than the hundreds of men trying to hunt her down."
Keoman blew out a frustrated breath. "Just what the hell do you think we could learn from her, if we did contact her? She obviously doesn't know who this molester is either. Otherwise, she'd have killed him by now. It wasn't Yancy or even Annalise. She killed Alan, but it wasn't him, either. Another child was hurt after they were all dead."
"Alan was killed because he was trying to kill Nenegean. I hate to say this, but it was self-defense on her part. No one knows what happened between Nenegean and Annalise. There could be some reason we're not aware of."
Keoman glared at her. "When you talk like this, it confirms my intentions to keep you under guard until we find Nenegean. Just because she came close to you once and didn't kill you doesn’t mean she won't the next time. There were protections around you during the search."
Channing laughed sarcastically. "Protections the entity has shown time after time she can bypass, even at my cabin!"
A movement beside the bedroom door caught Channing's attention, and she looked over at Nodinens. When the elderly woman realized she had been noticed, she walked over to stand with Channing and face Keoman.
"How long have you been listening, Grandmother?" Keoman asked, his voice now more respectful than angry.
"Long enough," Nodinens said. "I have not been to bed myself, so I heard you come down the hall. My ears are still very good. You did not close the door, and I took that to mean you came in here to talk to Channing, not anything else."
Channing chuckled. She didn't care that others might have picked up on the fact she and Keoman had spent a night together. But when she turned on the bedside lamp, she noticed a hint of flush receding from his cheeks.
"I came to tell you that I am still doing my own type of hunting for a way to halt what is happening around here," Nodinens said. "I have been trying to see if there is some connection between the children who have been taken and also those who have been hurt or murdered. The problem is, there are numerous connections between them and their parents. Our children interact all the time. Even the small ones who are not in school are taken to birthday parties, as well as various other gatherings."
"That's one of the things the FBI looks for," Channing said. "Not the branch Grant's in now, but all agents have training in different areas of their work."
"He is the one who gave me that idea," Nodinens admitted. "He said I knew the people here and would be the best one to check this trail out. He also had seen me use a computer, so he understood I was proficient. Still, it has been a disappointing quest on my part."
"So you can see why it would be useless for you to contact Nenegean," Keoman said. "She's obviously still trying to find this man, just like the rest of us are trying to find both her and him."
Nodinens looked up at Channing. "It is hard to admit, but I am afraid he is right. At least at this point in time."
"And what about when the next child goes missing?" Channing asked, her tone fearful rather than confrontational. "I can't stand to think of it."
Nodinens took Channing's hand between both of hers. The comfort flowing from the tiny woman soothed Channing more than she had expected.
"We all feel just as you do, Channing," Nodinens said. "And I will not disparage our quest by saying that some things are foreordained, because I do not necessarily believe that. We must do all we can to counteract the evil in the world. But I have to agree that I do not see any purpose right now in talking to Nenegean. However, if you wish to do so, I will go with you to translate what she says."
"I don't know that she will talk to me with you there —"
Keoman surged to his feet. "No! I'll talk to Gagewin and have him forbid this."
She and Nodinens stared at him, only for a brief moment. Then Channing ignored him and said to the other woman, "Would you like me to look at what you've found? Maybe some fresh eyes might help."
Nodinens nodded, and without another word to Keoman, they both walked out. Nodinens led her into the room next door to the one Channing had been assigned. It was obviously the master bedroom, but a different design than most. The area they entered was a sitting room used as an office. A wide set of bi-fold doors opened to the large bedroom beyond.
Nodinens sat at a much larger desk than the one in Channing's room and wiggled the mouse to wake up her computer. In here, she had a desktop, a large monitor attached.
"Pull up that chair over there and get comfortable," Nodinens said.
Finally sleepy two hours later, Channing wandered down the hallway and into her room. She crawled into bed and pulled the rumpled sheet and bedspread over her.
Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to come up with anything more than Nodinens had. Where one child went, it seemed numerous others gathered. Plus, there were the two children from the far northern part of the state. The only connection they had to this area was that they were related to people here. The child Channing hadn't been able to save was Nodinens' great-niece, but the other two were distant cousins to local families.
There were birthday parties at the tribal headquarters, and sometimes people's houses. The hard winter months didn't keep the local people indoors. They dressed for the weather and enjoyed their land year round. Ice fishing, snowmobiling, and even dogsledding activities abounded, and the children were wrapped in layers of protective clothing and accompanied their parents.
The children weren't just tolerated; they were treated as special gifts and included wherever possible.
Except by the man who did evil to them.
Channing sighed and closed her eyes. She was so tired, it took an effort to turn over and snuggle the pillow. She glanced at the digital clock: two a.m. When she closed her eyes and then opened them again, an entire ten minutes had passed. She was more wide awake than when she had left Nodinens' room.
She had to get some rest. She wasn't a person who could navigate the next day on only a couple hours sleep. Not only would she be physically tired, but her mind would be groggy. She needed sharp perceptions to treat patients.
There were some mild sleeping pills in her medical bag — back at the resort. It still wasn't too late to take half a dose of something like that, if she'd had it with her. She rose and walked into the attached bathroom. There were plenty of things in the medicine cabinet for guests, but no over-the-counter sleeping aids.
Maybe Nodinens kept chamomile tea. She grabbed the borrowed robe and walked downstairs to the kitchen. Nightlights shone conveniently in various low plugs, and the stove light burned brightly enough to see even into the cabinets. Channing
found a box of tea above the coffeepot.
The microwave's loud 'ready' beep might wake the others. Therefore, she heated water on the stove, prepared her cup, and decided to carry it into the family room and the wall of windows. On the way, she passed a bar and paused. The lower shelves revealed a large selection of bottles. Southern Comfort would taste good in the tea, and Channing helped herself to a jigger.
Settled on the couch, Channing drank the tea and gazed out at the backyard. Security lights burned low, solar ones, since they topped metal poles. She grew drowsy again and decided not to risk the walk back to her bedroom waking her up. She placed her cup on the end table and pulled a dark afghan from the back of the couch as she curled up. Welcome darkness descended, and she sank down the tunnel leading to restful sleep.
Before total unconsciousness descended, the temperature plummeted. Some instinct warned Channing not to jump up from the couch to search out the problem. Through barely slit eyes, she saw a door she hadn't noticed on the far side of the windows open. She remained as still as possible, her sense of danger heightening as the seconds crawled by.
Chapter 39
The man wore a dark snowmobile suit, a black mask completely covering his face. He closed the door behind him, removed one of his gloves, and unzipped the top of his suit to reach inside. When his hand emerged, he held a pistol. Channing smothered a gasp.
The bastard must have disabled Nodinens' alarm system. The elderly woman had turned on what she explained protected the outside premises before she went to bed. She gave Channing, Keoman and Walking Eagle the code in case they needed it, assuring them she changed the code every two days or so.
Walking Eagle! Channing hadn't seen him when she came downstairs. As the intruder silently stole across the family room, Channing tried to stem her terror. The man hadn't come armed without a purpose. He meant to kill someone.
Damn, she wished she had her cell phone. But she hadn't planned on calling anyone, only finding something to help her sleep.