by G. M. Moore
“What the hell is going on here?” he shouted. “You think this is funny? You think this is a game?”
Wes shrank back, his eyes darted warily left and right. Clyde should not be yelling like that, he thought, not here. Disturbing the peace of this place was not a good idea. He felt that in his core. He didn’t know what Clyde was talking about, unless of course, the man was on to him. But that just wasn’t possible. Wes remained quiet, stayed put, and waited.
Rifle held waist high, Clyde stormed across the meadow, closing the gap between the two quickly. Wes struggled to suppress the urge to grin. That would give him away for sure, and right now the man was doing exactly what Wes wanted. He forced his face into a cold stony stare. He didn’t want to ruin this. Clyde, all rage, was blindly charging forward, setting off booby-traps one by one. Instead of crippling someone, like the ones at the Stone Lake camp were rigged to do, Wes had set these to simply guide his father. The earth sank over there, and Clyde moved left. The grass rustled here, and he moved right. Rocks rolled, and he stumbled forward. Deadfall crumbled, and he jumped—
Clyde suddenly stopped short. Wes’s stomach dropped.
“Did you hear me, boy?” Clyde demanded. “Where’s Butch?”
“Butch?” Wes questioned, taken aback. He wondered if Butch been found because the last he had heard the man was still missing. “You mean Ben,” he replied.
“No, I mean Butch. Don’t act like you don’t know.”
“I—don’t—know,” Wes responded in staccato. “Look at me.” He pointed up to his bloodied face and then down his disheveled body. “Have you even looked at me? Do you even care?”
Confusion flickered across Clyde’s face, then he continued on as if his son had never spoken.
“I found the missing albino doe,” Clyde said, spewing sarcasm. “You remember it? The one I shot. It’s lying in the grass over there. You want to tell me how it got here?”
“No,” Wes said, forcing himself to remain stoic.
The veins on Clyde’s temples suddenly puffed up like fat earthworms. They pulsed steadily as he thrust the rifle at Wes. The young man tensed, but held his ground, watching Clyde bound over a rotting log toward him, one foot, and then the other. Wes heard the clank of metal and Clyde yelp like an injured animal. Fitting, he thought, allowing himself to finally smile. Clyde dropped awkwardly to the ground, the rifle he held flying forward. Wes walked straight to the firearm, ignoring his father’s cries and curses, and picked it up. He turned to face his father, reveling in the pain-stricken shock covering the man’s face.
“Looks like you’re going to have some explaining to do,” Wes said, dropping the rifle just out of his reach.
“Y-y-y-ou.” Clyde sputtered. Then his demeanor abruptly softened. “Son,” he said. “My leg, it’s broken.” He held his calf, looking to Wes with pleading eyes.
Nice try, Wes thought. He glanced at the foothold trap clamped tightly on his father’s bloody shin. “Could have been worse. Look at me.” Then he turned and limped away.
“Wes, wait.”
He kept walking.
“You can’t leave me here like this. Wes!”
He kept walking
“I’m warning you,” his father seethed. “You’ll pay for this.”
Without looking back, Wes called over his shoulder. “Already have, Dad. I already have.”
Chapter Eighteen
Red lights assaulted Cain’s eyes, forcing him to wake up. The lights flashed angrily through the dark motel room, and he could hear some sort of commotion going on outside. He groused under his breath, dragged himself out of bed and over to the window.
“What now?” he quietly grumbled, rubbing his tired eyes and pulling back the curtains just a little.
He and Tess had made it to the Black Bear Inn around 8:00 p.m., just before sunset. They got something to eat at the inn’s diner, took showers, and crashed into bed. It had been a very long day, and both teens were sound asleep by 9:30 p.m. As Flo had promised, she called and woke them both up a half hour later. Now, two police squad cars parked in the lot of the Black Bear Inn had done the same. Cain could see a small crowd gathering and more people were coming down the darkly wooded street. Four officers were addressing the crowd, moving them back and away from the strip of motel rooms. Cain noticed the squad cars flanked the door to their room and swore through gritted teeth.
He knew the answer to his question.
Cain turned from the window to find Tess at his side, looking as tired and as groggy as he felt.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
He grabbed his hoodie off a nearby chair and pulled a piece of paper from its pocket. “This was at that convenience store near Butternut,” he said, handing her the missing person poster. He lowered his head, raising only his eyes to her. “I didn’t tell you because I thought you might want to leave.”
He watched for her reaction as she unfolded the paper. She looked surprised, then confused. “Kidnapped?” she blurted. “They think I was kidnapped?”
He opened his mouth to speak but a loud bang on the door stopped him. Tess jumped.
“This is the police. Tess O’Brien, are you in there?”
Tess’s fearful eyes searched his. He gave her a thin, pained smile, nodded reassuringly, and motioned to the door.
“Yes,” she answered in a quivering voice. “I’m here. I’m OK.” She took a step toward the door, stopped, and took a step back.
“Open the door,” the officer ordered.
“Go on,” Cain whispered.
Tess didn’t move and neither did he. Cain wondered if she was thinking what he was. He knew once that door opened, she would be gone and their adventure to Lost Creek would be over.
“By the count of three I need you to open the door. One.”
Cain reached for Tess’s hand and felt her squeeze his.
“Two.”
He released her hand and walked calmly to the door.
“Three.”
Cain opened the door and was immediately blinded by a flashlight and thrown backward. One officer charged into the room, lighting it up, while the other pushed his hand into Cain’s chest, holding him against the open door.
The flashlight’s glaring beam scanned the room before landing on Tess’s pale, panicked face. The need to protect her overwhelmed Cain, and he grabbed the officer’s arm, forcing it off him. He lunged toward Tess, felt his arm twist backward, and before he knew what had happened found himself slammed face first against the door.
Tess shrieked.
“I wouldn’t try that again, son,” the officer said coolly. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough here?”
“Me?” Cain mumbled through distorted lips. He struggled against the officer’s grip, trying to turn his head. “What did I—” It hit him then. These officers thought he was a kidnapper. When he had found the missing person poster, the idea of anyone thinking he kidnapped Tess had never crossed his mind.
“Nooooooo,” he moaned. “It’s not like that. Tess? Tess, tell them.”
She said something, but her voice was very soft and shaky, and he couldn’t make it out. He heard the rattle of handcuffs, felt cold metal on his wrists, and cringed.
“No,” Tess shouted. “Wait.”
“Hold up, Scray,” the other officer ordered. Then, in a much softer voice, he said “Go on, little lady.”
“He’s done nothing wrong. It was me. I ran away. It was all me. He’s done nothing.”
Cain felt the officer’s grip loosen. He didn’t realize he had been holding his breath and let it all out in one blast.
Officer Scray grunted. “None of that matters.”
“It does,” Gustman replied firmly. “No cuffs.”
“We’ve got bodies from here to Spooner. We’ve got to take him in.”
“No cuffs. N
ot now,” Gustman repeated. “And back off the kid.”
Scray reluctantly obeyed, hooking the handcuffs back on his belt and allowing the teen to step away from the door and turn around.
Cain finally got a good look at Tess. She seemed a little shaken, but that was all. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt proud of her just then. He gave her a reassuring smile, and she returned it.
Cain looked at the officers as innocently as he could. “You said bodies?” He was thinking of Mr. Lay Chilly. “What bodies?”
“That’s not for here,” Scray replied curtly. “That’s for the station.”
Gustman shook his head, raising a hand to the younger, more gung-ho officer. “We do have a lot to sort out here,” he said to Cain. “We’ve got a runaway.” He pointed to Tess, then turned his attention back to Cain. “And a kid with a record. We’ve got two alleged poachers dead, and one alleged poacher severely injured. Throw in two mauled mountain bikers, for kicks, and one slain albino doe to stir the pot.” He whistled. “The Ojibwe are in an uproar over that one. Scray is right. Sorry to say it, but you both need to come to the station.”
Officers Scray and Gustman escorted each teen out of the motel room and into the chaos of the night. An ambulance and a couple more police cars were in the parking lot now, and more people were milling about on the outskirts of it. Cain noticed a steady stream of gawkers driving by. This was obviously the most excitement the town had seen in a long time, he thought, amused.
“Looks like we’re the new Bonnie and Clyde,” he said, turning to Tess.
But she was gone.
Gustman had led her in the opposite direction, and Cain watched as she dashed over to a man he assumed to be her father. Scray brought him to a squad car and Cain hesitated by the door, staring after her. Tess and the man stayed huddled close together, seemingly sharing a secret, unfazed by the commotion around them. The man’s legs appeared to suddenly buckle, and he dropped to his knees before her. Cain looked on with a puzzled frown until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Turn around, son,” Officer Scray ordered and guided him against the car chest first. Cain felt the handcuffs then, and even with the uproar around him, heard them click shut.
“Has to be done,” Scray said, opening the car door and placing a hand on top of the teen’s head.
Cain turned quickly to look at Tess one more time.
“Don’t worry, son,” the officer said as he pushed down. His demeanor was almost tender. “Your folks are on the way. They’re meeting us at the station.”
Yay for me, Cain thought, giving the officer a wry smile before ducking into the backseat.
****
Siren lights flashed through the Indianhead Medical Center as Officer Gustman escorted Tess through the emergency ward. Even though paramedics had checked her over at the Black Bear Inn and said she was OK, her father insisted she be taken to the hospital. Tess quickly found herself the reluctant star of a high-speed convoy involving a Park Falls ambulance, a Spooner police car, and her father’s Chevy truck. When the convoy arrived at the medical center about thirty minutes later, the paramedics wheeled Tess out of the ambulance on a gurney. She felt like such a fool lying on it that as soon as she saw her father Tess convinced him to let her get off the silly thing and walk in. Now, with Officer Gustman at her side, she gawked as orderlies and nurses rushed passed her, scurrying this way and that in the red glare, and hoping she was not the cause of it all.
An empty gurney sped by and Tess flinched as it brushed against her leg. Gustman threw an arm out. “Hey! Watch it,” he ordered, pulling her aside. “Sorry about that miss. It’s—”
“Behind you!” an orderly yelled, causing Tess to jump and Gustman to pull her flat against a wall. He held an arm protectively in front of her as gurneys carrying two young men flew by, a blur of blood, bruises, and battered flesh. Paramedics raced in behind them. Tess saw one carrying a mangled bike helmet and turned wide-eyed to Gustman.
“Are those the mountain bikers?” she asked.
He nodded and slowly lowered his arm.
“What happened to them?”
“Cougar attack up near Powell. Sometime late afternoon. Lost Creek area.”
Tess’s mouth dropped open. “Lost Creek,” she mumbled.
“Uh-huh. Cat knocked one rider clean off his bike then dragged him off by the arm.”
A shiver rippled through Tess’s body as the officer talked.
“Cat went for the other guy’s leg. He was able to fight it off and make a run for it. They are both real, real lucky.”
Tess looked quizzically at the officer. They didn’t look so lucky to her.
“The Ojibwe found them,” he explained, “got them help and got them out.”
She trembled again as her thoughts drifted to Cain’s godfather and the secret sect of the Midewiwin.
“Oh,” Tess answered as flatly as her body would allow. She cast her gaze quickly to the floor. A strong hand fell on her shoulder, and she cringed.
“You weren’t near Lost Creek, were you little lady?” Gustman asked.
“No sir.”
The lie came out so quickly she was taken aback by it. A lot of weird, inexplicable things had happened in the last four days, but she had no reason to lie about them. Yet she just did. Her thoughts drifted again but this time to the fog, that strange creepy fog that seemed to plague every step of their journey to Lost Creek.
Something was out there. Something in the rolling fog.
Her skin suddenly crawled with goose pimples, and she stuffed her hands deep into the pouch pocket of the green hoodie her father had brought for her. She felt a neck scarf there and at the touch of it she sniveled. Oh Dad. I’m so sorry.
Officer Gustman removed his hand and gently draped his arm over her shoulder. “This way, little lady,” he said, concern filling his voice. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Gustman guided her down a hallway where he turned her over to a portly nurse.
“Nurse Gretchen will take good care of you,” he said. “I’ll be around. Just going to check up on your dad. See how he’s doing with the paperwork and tell him what’s going on, OK?”
Tess looked meekly up and down the hall. “What is going on? Is Cain here, too?”
The nurse eyed Gustman with raised eyebrows. The officer gave her a prodding nod.
“A doctor is going to look you over. Make sure all’s well,” the nurse said as she took Tess by the arm and began to lead the girl away.
Tess took a few hesitant steps forward, then shuffled her feet to a stop. “Where’s Cain?” she asked.
Nurse Gretchen smiled with soothing empathy. “Just come with me. Everything will be fine.”
Tess pulled back slightly, her hands still stuffed in the hoodie’s front pocket holding the scarf. She turned to the officer. “What happened to Cain?”
Out of the corner of her eye Tess saw an orderly appear down the hallway. He started to head in the opposite direction but looked their way and moved toward them instead.
“Just go with the nurse,” Gustman said.
Tess felt Nurse Gretchen’s pudgy arm wrap around hers. She took Tess’s hand and squeezed. “Come on, darlin’.”
Tess stood her ground, staring at the officer as the orderly closed in.
Gustman held up a hand. “I am getting your dad. You and I will talk later. OK?”
Tess’s gaze moved from the officer to the muscular orderly. Her dad had been through enough tonight, she decided. His daughter making a scene was the last thing he needed to deal with right now. Tess nodded, easing her stance and letting the nurse guide her away.
Forty minutes later, she sat in a chair covered in pink vinyl upholstery watching her father and Officer Gustman huddled in the corner of a small waiting room. They spoke in soft, hushed tones and glanced over at her in a way that made the teen
feel like a mental patient. She fidgeted in her seat, poking at the vinyl padding covering the armrests. Gustman nodded to her father and she heard him say, “Got it,” before stepping away. Tess caught her father’s eye. He looked haggard and worn with ashen skin and puffy red eyes. That’s all my doing, she thought. What have I done?
When Tess saw her father in the parking lot of the Black Bear Inn, she had raced to him. The strange dreams she had had and all she had remembered about the car accident came out of her in a mad rush. She couldn’t help it. She had to tell him. When he crumpled to the ground before her, she wished she had been able to stop herself. Now, looking at him here just a ghost in the corner, she knew she should have. I’m going to make this up to him, she silently promised. Somehow I will. I swear.
Gustman pulled a chair up to the one Tess sat in and leaned toward her, elbows resting on his knees, manila folder in one hand.
“Just a few questions, then you and your dad can go, OK?”
Tess nodded.
“So, we’ve established what didn’t happen with Cain Mathews. How ’bout you tell me what did?”
Tess’s eyes moved to her father. “I ran away.”
“You mean you ran away with Cain Mathews?” It was more of a statement than a question. “Where were you two headed?”
Her eyes shifted to the officer. “I didn’t run away with Cain.”
Gustman tapped the folder. “Well, we have multiple sightings of the two of you—in the woods, on the Chippewa.”
“I ran into him in the woods. That’s all.”
“What was he doing in the woods?”
“He— I—” Tess bit her lip, hesitating, unsure if she should mention the albino fawn. She wondered if Gustman even knew about the animal. If people reported seeing Cain and Tess together, they must have reported seeing them with a ghost white fawn. But yet the officer hadn’t mentioned the animal or asked about him. In fact, no one had. A knowing smile surfaced briefly on her lips.
The Midewiwin.
They must have worked some sort of magic, and she was not about to be the one to upset it or them. What she decided to tell the officer wasn’t the full-blown truth, but still the words slipped effortlessly off her tongue.
