Trumpet of the Dead (Raven Trilogy Book 2)

by Kurt B. Dowdle

  Kamp swung the door open and saw a dark, narrow room, empty except for a single wooden bed. He made out the figure of the kid, who wasn’t moving. More troubling, he wasn’t talking. He leaned in close to the kid’s face and saw that he’d been gagged. They’d stuck a wool sock in his mouth and secured it with a kerchief tied around his face. Kamp untied the kerchief and pulled out the sock.

  The kid took a gulp of air and then another. He turned to face Kamp and said, “Son, they ain’t whupped us. An’ they never will. Remember that.”

  “We need to move. Fast.”

  The kid said, “You ain’t gettin’ me out, not now anyhow. Look how they got me done up. Makes me feel honored in a strange kind of way.”

  Kamp pulled back the blanket. The kid had been shackled to the bed by both hands and both feet.

  “Guess they thought with Nyx Bauer lurkin’ out there an’ me with my proclivity for bustin’ out, they din’t wanna take no chances.”

  Kamp ran to the workbench to look for a tool that could break the chains. He found none and went back to the kid, who said, “Son, son, slow down. Listen.”

  “We don’t have much time.”

  “That’s why I need to tell you a few things now.”

  “Talk.”

  The kid licked his lips and began. “First off, I tol’ you I come here originally to help a friend, Mr. Jacob Bell. He sent me to protect another friend of mine, fella by the name of Tucks, Onesimus Tucks. Me an’ Tucks was breaker boys together when we was kids. An’ Mr. Bell owned him.”

  “Owned.”

  “Exactly. Tucks was a slave, in West Virginia. But Mr. Bell didn’t want him to be a slave no more. So he set him free. Decided there shouldn’t be no such thing as slaves in the first place, but there it is.”

  Kamp stepped out of the room to listen for footsteps again, then came back in and said, “Hurry up.”

  “Okay, so that’s first off. Second, another fella laid claim to Tucks, said he wasn’t Mr. Bell’s to begin with. Wanted him back.”

  “That’s why you had to protect him.”

  “Exactly. So, it wasn’t easy to find Tucks, on account of he had to hide ever’where he went. But I tracked him up this way an’ stayed in a seven-cent flop underneath a whorehouse whilst I looked for him, but that’s neither here nor there.”

  Kamp heard a commotion through the wall of the closet. “Anything else?”

  “No, ’cept that just when I found my ol’ friend Tucks, just when I was fixin’ to spirit him away, that’s when it happened, when they got me. Hit me at the back of my neck. Lights went out. I was dead.”

  The commotion grew louder, and Kamp could tell people were looking for him.

  He said, “Who hit you?”

  “God damn, son, that’s what I been askin’ you to help me with! Now, go figure it out. Git.”

  Kamp sprang out of the room and across the repair shop floor. He hit the back door at a dead run, tumbling onto the lawn of the hospital. He heard shouting behind him, but he made it to the tree line and saw that no one chased him.

  BY THE TIME THE MOUNTAINS CAME INTO VIEW, Nyx Bauer had lost feeling in her hands and feet. She’d left the dogs far behind. It had been hours since she’d heard their baying grow faint and then vanish. In order to make better time, Nyx dropped the potato sack full of food. The rifle she kept.

  But she still needed to make considerable distance between herself and her pursuers, and even then, she knew she needed to avoid anyone she didn’t know. In other words, Nyx Bauer intended to be invisible as she fled, and she succeeded. She crossed the landscape via forest, stepping onto the road only in the most secluded stretches. And now, as the sun slid behind the trees, she saw smoke curling from a chimney from a cabin way back in the woods. Nyx had reached her destination.

  She stepped heavily up the steps and onto the porch. The front door swung open, and the form of a man holding a shotgun appeared in the doorway.

  He scanned the woods and said, “Anyone else behind?”

  Nyx shook her head, and he put his arm around her, guided her into the cabin and locked the door.

  KAMP RAN by way of the railroad tracks. He ran because he wanted to lay eyes on his family and because he needed to feel the safety of home. He pushed down a fear, a fear that when his house came into view, it would be on fire. It wasn’t. When he saw a candle in the front window, he slowed to a walk and breathed a sigh. His family would be there, and he’d be able to relax.

  When he went in, however, he saw neither Shaw nor Autumn. Instead, the first person he saw was Margaret Hinsdale, standing arms crossed, eyes blazing.

  As soon as she saw Kamp, she said, “You must do something?”

  “Where are they?”

  “Who?”

  “My family.”

  “They’re upstairs. You know what’s happened, don’t you? They’ve taken him!” She produced a cigarette case and removed one with trembling hands. Kamp struck a match and lit her cigarette. He heard a door close on the second floor, and when Shaw came down the stairs a moment later, he looked at her with raised eyebrows. Her expression gave away nothing.

  Margaret Hinsdale inhaled deeply and focused back on Kamp. “Tell me what you know.”

  Shaw said, “I’m making some tea. May I offer you a cup, Mrs. Hinsdale?”

  “Yes, please. Thank you. Margaret.”

  Kamp removed his hat and massaged his forehead. “Margaret, what did your husband say?”

  “My husband?”

  “Yes, what did he tell you about what happened to your son?”

  “He said Becket’s under observation. At the hospital.”

  Shaw returned from the kitchen with a cup of tea and motioned for Margaret Hinsdale to sit down.

  Kamp said, “What else did he say?”

  “He said Becket’s in trouble and that he’s not well.” She took a sip of tea. “But I don’t believe him.”

  Shaw said, “Why not?”

  Margaret Hinsdale took another sip and then a drag on her cigarette. She stared out the window as she exhaled the smoke. “Raymond’s been acting strangely. Nervous. Secretive.”

  Kamp said, “Did Becket ever say anything to you about a Jacob Bell or an Onesimus Tucks?”

  Margaret Hinsdale erupted, “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Let’s focus on the present, the real world, shall we?” She looked unhinged, even to Kamp.

  “I visited your boy at the hospital. If you want to help him, I suggest going there immediately.”

  The color drained from her face. “They’re going to hurt him, aren’t they?”

  KAMP AND SHAW WATCHED Margaret Hinsdale storm down the path toward the road and turn back in the direction of her home.

  He said, “She didn’t ride here?”

  “Nope. She said she’d spent the afternoon searching in the woods for that boy. When her husband came home, he told her the story about the hospital. And then she ran here.” Shaw turned to him. “What does any of this have to do with you?”

  Kamp paused for a moment and then said, “How’s Autumn? How was her day?”

  “Her day was fine. She’s fine. Don’t change the subject.”

  “What about the bear?”

  “The bear looks tired, ready to hibernate.”

  Kamp went to her, put his arms around her waist. “You’re beautiful.”

  She laughed. “Answer my question.”

  “Question?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked in her eyes and then searched her face. He brushed the crescent-shaped scar above her eyebrow and then kissed it gently. “Tell me about how you got this. What happened?”

  Shaw looked him in the eye. “You really want to know?”

  “I do.”

  “Then answer my question. What does any of this, these people and their problems, have to do with you?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Honestly?”

  She grabbed his ear and twisted it hard.
“Yes.”

  “They need help.”

  “You can’t save them. You can’t save that boy.”

  “I know.”

  10

  ANGUS LED NYX to the bedroom, helped her lie down and covered her with a heavy blanket. He drew a pot of water from the well behind the cabin, put it on the stove and went back into the bedroom, unlaced Nyx’s boots and slid them off as gently as he could. He did the same with Nyx’s socks. He saw that all of her toes were badly frostbitten. Angus checked her hands as well. Same thing.

  Nyx said, “Is it bad?”

  “Naw, just a little frostnip. Rest now.”

  “I can’t feel anything.”

  “You will, girl, you will.”

  Angus gently massaged Nyx’s right foot and then her left. He pulled out a metal bathtub, set it in the middle of the bedroom floor and filled it with hot water.

  He said, “This will do the trick.” Angus took off the rest of her clothes and helped her into the tub.

  Nyx screamed, “It’s too hot! It’s too hot!”

  “It just feels that way on account of you’re so cold. Give it time.”

  He took a washcloth and washed the dirt from Nyx’s face. “Now tilt your head back.” He rubbed a bar of soap with both hands and then started working the lather into her hair.

  Nyx said, “I didn’t know anywhere else to go. Kamp told me I could always come here.”

  “Just relax once. You’re safe.”

  Nyx let herself slide deeper into the steaming water. “It’s good to see you again,” she said.

  The bath complete, Nyx stepped unsteadily from the tub. Angus toweled her off and handed her the bedclothes he’d worn in a previous life.

  He fed her the stew he’d made himself for dinner and put her to bed. After a few restless moments, Nyx grew quiet. When he was sure that she was fully asleep, Angus took another look at Nyx’s frostbitten toes, which had all turned an angry purple-black color. Maybe, he thought, a few can be saved.

  KAMP DIDN’T FALL ASLEEP until the first faint grey of dawn appeared on the horizon. It took him that long to convince himself that there was nothing he could do to save either the kid or Nyx Bauer from their respective fates. But when he awoke to the gold morning light an hour later, he found himself somehow resolved again to do just that.

  He went to the courthouse to find the Judge and wring as many details out of him regarding the kid as he could. But the Judge wasn’t there. He checked the courtroom as well as the rest of the building and couldn’t find the man. He pulled the brim of his slouch hat low, held his jacket closed and leaned into a cold gale as he left the courthouse.

  Before he even reached the top step, a man blocked his path and pressed two fingers into Kamp’s sternum to stop him. Kamp noticed the man’s expensive black leather shoes, polished to a bright shine and his grey wool three-piece suit, complete with watch and chain. He looked at the man’s face and recognized the prosecutor, Grigg.

  He felt the fire sparking to life at the base of his skull. “Stop touching me.”

  Grigg pulled his hand back and said, “Good morning, Kamp.”

  “Where’s the Judge?”

  “I haven’t seen him, but perhaps I can answer your questions.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Grigg pulled in a breath. “In any case we need to talk.”’

  “Then talk.”

  The prosecutor scanned the sidewalk, the street and the windows of neighboring buildings. “In my office.”

  Kamp set his jaw. “Say it here.”

  Grigg lowered his voice. “I have information regarding the child, Becket Hinsdale. And Nyx Bauer. Now, if you’ll follow me.”

  The two men walked back into the courthouse and up a flight of stairs to the office previously inhabited by the late district attorney, Philander Crow. Kamp had often met with Crow in this office during his short tenure, and at the time Kamp had noted the lack of decoration or personal effects of any kind. The same was true now, as the room had bare walls and no pictures, no indication of any kind that an individual worked there.

  Grigg took a seat behind the large, oaken desk and gestured for Kamp to sit. He remained standing and kept an eye on the door.

  “If you think you’re under surveillance or in danger of any kind,” Grigg said, “let me assure you that’s not the case.”

  Kamp watched the door for another moment and then looked back at Grigg. “Say what you’re going to say.”

  Grigg picked up a pencil and spun it between his fingers. “People are afraid of her. They’re nervous about when she’ll appear again, and about what she intends to do.”

  “You know what happened to her parents.”

  “Of course.”

  “And maybe you can imagine the consequences for Nyx and her sisters. It changed her, is changing her.”

  Grigg shook his head slightly. “That’s not the point.” He set the pencil down.

  Kamp felt heat spreading across his forehead. “Very few people have demonstrated kindness or compassion to that girl. Many believe she’s cursed.”

  The prosecutor stiffened his gaze. “There are rumors about her. Rumors that she killed a man with a rifle.”

  “When?”

  “Last autumn.”

  “But you’re not certain.”

  “It’s a rumor.”

  “Did someone find the victim?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know what her motive may have been?”

  “I do not.” While he spoke, Grigg stared calmly at Kamp.

  “No motive, no victim and no facts.”

  “I believe you wrote that the murders of Jonas and Rachel Bauer weren’t committed by the fellow who was executed for the crimes but that they were killed by another man, called Hugh Arndt, in the service of a larger plan.”

  “That’s right,” Kamp said.

  “So Miss Bauer killed Mr. Arndt. No proof but not hard to imagine, right?”

  “Would you blame her?”

  Grigg set down the report on the desk. “Of course not. But there’s another rumor as well.”

  Kamp let out a long sigh.

  “The rumor is that she’s not done, that she intends to punish all of them.”

  “That’s her business.”

  “They won’t leave her alone, Kamp. That’s why the police were following her, why she was arrested on phony charges and why she would have been in prison for a long time.”

  Kamp inhaled slowly through his nostrils. “Mr. Grigg, the last time I saw you, you were in my front yard, threatening me, frightening my family.”

  The prosecutor, who’d been leaning forward, sat straight up in his chair. “That was for your protection, of course, and for the public good. Please do extend my apologies to your family.”

  Kamp raised his eyebrows. “You’re the prosecutor. If she’d been put away, you’d have been the one to put her there.”

  “Nyx Bauer a secondary concern, although you’re right.” Grigg pulled the watch from his pocket and looked at it. “I bring it up because I know she’s a primary concern of yours. And you also want to help the boy, Becket Hinsdale.”

  Kamp rubbed his left temple and looked at the floor. Grigg stood up and went to the window. He looked out at the stacks of Native Iron, blasting smoke high into the clouds, and then at the crowded street below.

  Grigg said, “My sense is that you envision yourself as something of a countervailing force against the harmful influences in the community. A moral agent.”

  “Make your point.”

  The prosecutor turned away from the window to look at Kamp. “Since you’re not employed by the city anymore, you can act with relative impunity. You have the freedom to do things I can’t.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  Grigg sharpened his focus. “We want the same thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “To expose the Fraternal Order of the Raven. And to destroy it.”

  “It’s in the past.”


  The prosecutor sat on the edge of the desk in front of Kamp. He said, “You’re highly intelligent and courageous, although at the moment, not very convincing. In everything you’re doing, you’re acting alone. A man alone, attempting what you’re trying to do, cannot succeed.”

  He walked behind the desk, opened a drawer and pulled out the copy of the report that Kamp had submitted to the Pennsylvania Attorney General’s office a year before.

  Grigg said, “It’s a masterpiece, produced at dire risk of life and limb, as I understand it. Scandalous and powerful, but ultimately meaningless.”

  Kamp stared over the prosecutor’s shoulder and out the window.

  He continued, “I believe that we can work together and bring justice.”

  “That’s what your predecessor thought.”

  Grigg tilted his head to one side. “Philander Crow wasn’t my predecessor, per se. He was a county district attorney, and a disgraced one, at that. I work for the commonwealth. We’re committed to smashing the Order of the Raven, starting with Black Feather Consolidated, which is nothing more than a murderous cabal.”

  Kamp breathed a sigh. “I don’t believe you.”

  The prosecutor held up a silver eight-sided coin that gleamed in the mid-morning sun that slanted in through the window. “Remember this? I know all about it. I know even more than you do.”

  “I said I don’t believe you. And I don’t trust you. Goodbye.” Kamp turned to leave and grabbed the doorknob.

  “Becket Hinsdale will be transported to Grace Lutheran Church later this morning. His mother is attempting to have the boy’s troubles characterized as a religious matter. You might want to stop by, if you intend to help him.”

  Kamp said, “All right, I have a request.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I need to see police files for every murder going back twelve years. Can you get them?”

  “Of course. And one more item. Apparently, after Miss Bauer killed the man, Hugh Arndt, she buried the body and the head she kept.”

  “Kept?”

  “Indeed. It’s been said that she preserved the skull. Although I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.”

  KAMP HADN’T HEARD ANY OF THE RUMORS. He’d assiduously avoided a ceaseless stream of community gossip during the past year, and Nyx herself had never mentioned going after Arndt. As he hustled from the south side of Bethlehem to the north, though, Kamp reflected on the day Shaw’s father, Joe, had conducted the naming ceremony for their daughter on the mountainside. As Joe held the baby aloft, a single shot had rung out, the source of which he’d never discerned. Perhaps now he knew.