“Good morning,” he said in a groggy voice.
“You’re just waking up?” Kruse asked.
“I’m in a different time zone. It’s earlier here.”
“It’s noon where you are.”
Quin pulled the phone from his ear and read the display. “Actually it’s only 11:50 a.m., don’t exaggerate. I’m not a total slacker.”
“You’re settled in?”
“How come you didn’t tell me the Phoenix office would assign an agent to shadow me?”
“You would’ve gone straight to Nogales. You had to check in, it’s office politics. But sometimes you have to play by the bureau’s rules. How is Agent Lopez?”
“She knows the area but so do I,” he said, without admitting that she’d revealed the tunnels. He opened the fridge. Inside were bottles of water and Diet Coke. No milk, eggs, or bagels. What do agents eat around here?
“We’ve been busy remote viewing this morning,” Kruse said. “Dillan and Rachel have some interesting leads to share with you.”
“What about Susan?”
“We’ve already covered this, Quin. She’s done.”
“I know, but how is she doing?” There was a long pause at the other end. “How’s her health?”
“Fine.”
“Well enough to go home?”
“Very soon,” he said. “Can we focus on the case?”
Quin reached for a bottle of water, closed the refrigerator door, and leaned against the center island. “What have you got?”
“Dillan, Rachel, and Dr. Hayden are here with me.” His voice was now on speakerphone. Everyone gave a quick hello.
“Good morning, or should I say ‘good afternoon,’ team?” Quin said with a yawn. “Ready when you are.”
“We’re coming up with a series of buildings. I’m e-mailing you the drawings as we speak,” Kruse said. Quin found the documents in his e-mail and opened them. “They could be warehouses. Do you see them?”
Quin scrolled and zoomed in on the sketches. “Very impressive warehouse-like buildings,” he said with a touch of sarcasm.
“I knew you’d appreciate my work!” Dillan shouted.
“Your shading and the way you captured the light is pure genius. And Rachel, might I say your detail is exquisite as well.”
Rachel burst into laughter. “Takes an artist to know an artist.”
“Can we move on from the ass-kissing?” Kruse said. “Quin, you have to trust the process.”
“These could be any of a hundred warehouses in and around Nogales,” he said. “This is a gateway to Mexico, with container trucks loading and unloading all the time. You really want me to start investigating warehouses?”
“Check your e-mail. I sent you more drawings,” Kruse said.
He opened the next document and it was a depiction of a woman. “Who is this?”
“I saw her there,” Rachel said.
The woman in Rachel’s sketch had shoulder-length hair. She was wearing a t-shirt, ripped jeans, and cowboy boots. She looked Indian, or at least a mix, and Quin couldn’t deny the resemblance to himself. Was this his sister?
“I’ve seen her near those buildings several times now. She’s walked right by me,” Rachel said.
“Walked by you?”
“In a deep state, a remote viewer can see the location as if he or she were actually there,” Kruse said. “I’m sending you another sketch, this one from Dillan’s separate viewing of the same location.”
Quin opened the document and zoomed in on the incredible details. The woman had a thin nose and a scar above her left eyebrow, possibly from a piercing. What stuck out the most was her earring: a dream catcher with a feather hanging from it.
Quin wore a similar earring to his sister’s. He might’ve told Dillan that in the past, but he wasn’t sure. There’s no way, though, that Dillan and Rachel would collaborate pulling a hoax on him, but he had to ask anyway. “How do we know they haven’t copied each other’s work?”
“They drew those from separate viewings,” Kruse said.
“I observed them,” Dr. Hayden said, speaking up for the first time.
“This might be Autumn or somebody who looks like her,” Quin said. “But again, there are warehouses all over this part of the country.”
“I just sent you the GPS location,” Kruse said.
“After twelve years of my sister missing, the three of you in a matter of a couple of days pinpointed her location? You’re shitting me.”
“No, we’re not,” Kruse said. “That’s the power of RV.”
Quin opened his e-mail and clicked on the GPS link, then launched his mapping software. The warehouses were across the border, roughly ten miles from the kitchen where he was standing. Was it possible Autumn was really only ten miles from home? Had she been there all along?
“I’ll call Agent Lopez and we’ll drive there to check it out this afternoon,” he said.
“Give us thirty minutes’ notice before you cross the border,” Kruse said. “And I want you wearing the glasses and earpiece we provided you. We want to see and hear everything as it happens.”
Quin couldn’t even remember where he’d packed that gear. He agreed and then asked, “Dr. Hayden, do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Sure, what’s on your mind?” she asked.
“It would be a private conversation, my weekly check-in with you.”
By the time Dr. Hayden called back, Quin was outside drinking another bottle of water. The sun felt warm on his back as he watched a scorpion run across the hot sand. He was reflecting on last night’s dream, how he would describe it to Dr. Hayden when she finally called.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “You alone?”
“Yes, I’m in my office,” she replied. “How are things?”
“Glad I’m here. I should’ve come sooner.”
“It’s not always easy to face one’s past.”
He walked across the property in his bare feet and stood next to the old swing. “I had a dream last night that I pushed Autumn on our swing and she flew away.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Responsible.”
“Because you pushed her?” Dr. Hayden suggested.
“She asked me to push her higher.”
“So you were only responding to what she asked you to do. You didn’t shove her out of the swing against her will?”
“No, she told me to push higher.”
“You complied with her request and for that you feel responsible?”
He looked at the house with a new understanding of his past. “The night my family was attacked, I told Autumn to go out the window,” he said. “I should’ve gone with her.”
“And you woke up with a false sense of guilt, Quin. Dreams are very powerful. They can evoke real emotions. But they are the mind’s way of dealing with the pain. You can’t blame yourself for what happened to Autumn.”
“After that, my dream became a vision.”
“How do you mean?”
“The ravens arrived and flew with me.”
“The ravens are your shadow-self, your darkest fears,” she said. “And medication has suppressed those fears.”
“You reduced my meds; the ravens are back.”
“Were you taking any recreational drugs?”
“Ayahuasca tea last night.”
“You know how I feel about that substance. It causes hallucinations.”
“Call it what you want. It was a vision.”
“I understand. What happened when you saw the ravens?”
“They led me to the end of earth and time, where waters separate the living from the dead,” he said, looking out onto the horizon that shimmered in a wave of heat, beads of sweat sliding down his back. He drank the last of his water and again spotted a lobo across the desert.
“What happened when you and the ravens reached the water?”
“The ravens showed me chindi.”
“I’m not familiar with th
at term, Quin.”
He explained to Dr. Hayden that chindi are evil spirits left behind from the dead. His mother had warned him to never approach a dead animal because good spirits depart while evil spirits remain on Earth. Evil spirits can make a person sick. When his parents were stabbed to death, Quin entered their bedroom and knelt over them to stop the bleeding. It was too late; their spirits had departed.
“Is it possible that on the night my parents died, their chindi entered my body?”
“In a metaphorical sense that would be a good way to describe a childhood trauma,” she said. “You’ve carried them with you all these years. You said they were on the other side of a river?”
“Yes, and the ravens chased them back into the spirit world.”
“Then possibly your parents’ chindi are gone now. You’ve set them free.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “I hope so.”
“Are the ravens gone too?”
“My ravens are not chindi,” he said. “They’re my spirit guides, protecting me.”
“Do you see the ravens now?”
He looked up into the sky at them circling high overhead. “They’re here.”
“Are you drinking tea now?”
“No, not since last night.”
He noticed her long pause—is she taking notes?
“Well, you seem to be making some progress. Now prepare yourself for what might happen when you learn the truth about Autumn. You must let go of any self-imposed responsibility you’re carrying.”
He heard the hum of a truck approaching. It was Agent Lopez in her FBI-issued SUV, bobbing and weaving the vehicle across the dunes. She honked twice and the wolf ran off, bounding and darting across the sand.
“I have to go,” he said. He didn’t want Lopez to hear any of this conversation.
“Good session,” she said. “We’ll talk again in a few days?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, hanging up on Dr. Hayden.
Lopez parked the truck and lowered the passenger-side window. “Did you see the coyote?”
He walked up to the truck and leaned through the window. “It’s a wolf, and it means we’re in luck.”
Her headache lifted as Candace gazed out at the northern desert sun in the distance. She had been up most of the previous night, shivering at the top of the mountain while Hawk and Jimmy slept motionless until dawn. Then they all packed up and started their jog down the trail. Her toes were bruised and her feet, swollen.
They had been driving for sixteen hours, pushing to arrive at Window Rock, Arizona, before dark. Hawk wanted to meet somebody there, somebody from the Navajo Nation who knew Quin. From the back seat she listened to their Native American music, flutes and pipes with the occasional drumbeat that soothed her as they rode along in silence until Jimmy said to Hawk, “We can go there, if you want.”
“Where?” Candace asked.
“Navajo Nation.” He turned his head to her.
“Quin’s home?”
“His mother’s home,” Hawk said. “Quin never lived on that rez.”
“How come?”
“Indian women who marry white guys move off the rez.”
“Why would we go there?” she asked.
“Number one rule in bounty hunting: You start with the family of the missing,” Hawk said. “I taught Quin that.”
“Family always knows something,” Jimmy added.
“Does Quin know we’re stopping there?” she asked.
“No,” Hawk said.
“Then how did you get this person’s name?”
“Joe knows of her,” he explained. “That’s why we stopped at his house. Joe knows lots of people, some Navajo, Hopi, Cocopah people.”
“We’re pretty tight these days,” Jimmy said to Candace. “Tribes meet, share ideas.”
Hawk slid a torn magazine page from his travel journal. It was a picture of a casino. “Can you find this?”
Jimmy read the address and with his free hand he tapped it into his phone. “It’s only two exits away.”
“Where are we?” Candace asked.
“Fire Rock,” Jimmy said.
Fire Rock Casino is off Route 66, nestled in Red Rock State Park. Unlike Vegas-style casinos that tower above busy streets, Fire Rock is more of a boutique establishment. To Candace, it looked like an expensive restaurant with stone pillars and a drive-up valet service.
“Tell me we’re not here to gamble,” she said.
“This is where we meet Quin’s relative,” Hawk said.
“He works at the casino?”
“Not he, she, and she’s one of the owners,” Hawk said.
Jimmy set the truck in park and stretched his back, waiting for the valet. “I’ll play a couple hands of black jack while you talk to her.”
“Don’t go broke,” Hawk said.
“What about me?” she asked as they all stepped out of the truck and Jimmy handed the keys to a valet.
“You play cards?” Hawk asked.
“A little, but I don’t gamble. I’d rather go with you to meet Quin’s family.”
Jimmy shook his head with a laugh and walked off to the casino by himself. She looked toward Hawk, who must have been debating whether or not he should let her into this meeting.
“You want me to write this story?” she said. “I have to have access to meetings like this.”
“Let me do the talking,” Hawk said as he turned and followed his grandson.
She caught up with Hawk as he shuffled past tourists leaving the casino. “I appreciate that you trust me enough to be in this meeting. It could be helpful background information—”
“I do the talking.”
“Of course. I’ll observe, and then we can discuss the meeting afterwards—”
“Stop talking.”
“We’re not inside yet.”
“I gotta think about what I’m gonna say.”
They entered the casino through revolving doors and she was overwhelmed by the cold air and darkness inside the building. It was as if they had stepped out of the desert heat into a cave, except this cave had slot machines, music, and waitresses carrying drinks on trays high above their heads. She and Hawk walked to an information desk where he asked a young man for a woman named Nizhoni. The man made a phone call and then told Hawk to wait.
“How is she related to Quin?” Candace asked.
“She’s his mother’s cousin.”
“Second aunt?”
“Family,” Hawk said.
“What did Joe say about her?” she asked.
“She was married to one of the Lighthorns. Now divorced.”
“And she’s agreed to meet you?”
“Nope.”
“So you showed up anyway.”
“Yep.”
“What will you say to her?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“Hawk, she’ll be here any minute. What’s the purpose of this meeting?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Not sure?”
“I’ll know as soon as I see her.”
They waited in silence as casino tourists walked by with drinks and plastic cups filled with coins from slot machines. An elevator opened to their right and Candace saw a slender woman in her early sixties with gray hair pulled back in braids. She walked quickly toward them, scanning faces, smiling, and waving at the staff as she walked.
“That’s her,” Hawk said.
“How do you know?”
“Walks like she owns the place. Now stop talking.”
The woman approached with a confused expression on her face. “Hawk?”
“That’s me,” he said, shaking her hand with both of his. “This is Candace.”
“Hello, I’m Nizhoni,” she said, shaking Candace’s hand. “How can I help you?”
He looked up at her. She was a good four inches taller. Clearing his throat he said, “I’m from the Prairie Sun Casino in Shakopee, Minnesota.”
“Joe had great things to say about y
ou. Welcome.”
“I’m not here about business,” he said. “I’m here about family.”
“Whose family?” Nizhoni asked.
“The Lighthorns.”
“I’m not a member of that family now,” she said, looking away across the casino. Candace wondered if she was searching for security, or some other excuse to exit this conversation.
“But you know them,” Hawk said.
“Not anymore. They’ve all left.”
“Was it because of the murders?”
“Why do you ask?”
“The information might be helpful to Quin,” Hawk said.
Nizhoni seemed suddenly more interested. “You know Quin?”
“He lived with me in Minnesota.”
Nizhoni turned to Candace. “Are you a friend of Quin’s?”
“Yes,” she said, unsure of how else to put it.
“He’s back in Nogales searching for Autumn,” Hawk said.
“The feds gave up on that case years ago,” Nizhoni said.
“That’s why I wanted to meet with you,” Hawk replied. “What happened?”
“I already told tribal police and the FBI what little I knew.”
“Can you tell us? It might help Quin in the long run,” Candace asked.
The woman sighed. “The FBI took over the investigation from tribal police and focused on Jack, her real husband.”
“How do you mean?” Hawk said.
“Quin’s mother, Lina, married a man here on the reservation but they had troubles right away. After a couple of years of not conceiving children, he blamed her. She said he’d become abusive, so she left the clan and the reservation. She was gone for five or six years, nobody knew where she went. One day she returned with a white man named Derek to visit her parents and he had two children with her. And it’s as plain as day that her children are not just Navajo but also white. Turns out she could conceive after all. I was happy for her and that she’d returned.”
“But her husband was angry?” Candace asked.
“Jack? He didn’t care at all,” she said. “He liked the single life and was no threat to her or the children. It was her father who was disgraced, who couldn’t allow her back. So they left, went back to Nogales where her husband worked in trucking. He tried stopping here during his travels to mend the rift between his wife and her father, but her father only argued with Derek.”
In The Company of Wolves_Follow The Raven Page 12
