Black Sheep

by CJ Lyons

  Finally she opened the book, began to flip through the pictures. Her house, their house, the house her father had built with his own hands. She barely remembered how it looked when she was a child, but she had visited it every time she returned to Evergreen, examining every joint and crevice, seeking the man her father was.

  She knew every inch of that house as well as she knew the lines that crossed her own palm. She traced her fingers along the cornice Eli had built in the dining room, the lines of the octagonal window he’d hung above the front door, the curve of the banister.

  Then she stopped. Puzzled.

  “This isn’t from our house.” She looked up at Caitlyn, holding the book open to the unfamiliar drawings. “Why would my father spend so much time drawing these, leave them here?”

  * * *

  Caitlyn stared at Lena. “Let me see.”

  She sat down beside the girl and took the book from her hand. The pages were in the last third of the book, mixed in with detail sketches of a stair railing and kitchen cabinets. She’d missed them when she went through the book last night—she’d been looking for written clues, not visual ones.

  “Look.” Lena pointed. “This one of the fireplace mantel. And here where he does a detail. And this one looks like it’s zooming in on some kind of carved medallion. None of this is in our house.”

  Caitlyn remembered the Hales’ fireplace: brick from ceiling to floor with a nice thick plank of heart of pine for the mantel, matching the floors. Nothing like the drawings here.

  “What was he drawing?” Lena asked. “And why?”

  It was Caitlyn’s turn to tremble. She held the book so tight her fingerprints smeared the edge of the page. “I know where this is.”

  “Where?”

  Caitlyn didn’t answer. Because Lena’s second question was more important. She handed the book back to Lena and stood to move about the room, checking the windows. Her plan had to work. They had to get out of here.

  Because now she knew why Eli Hale and her father had really died.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Caitlyn returned to Lena. If things went wrong, it was best that they both knew as many of the facts—and suspicions—as possible.

  “We were all looking at whether your dad was guilty or innocent. None of us could understand why he’d confess and go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit.” She took Lena’s hand in hers. “You, Lena. He did it to protect you and Vonnie and your mom. He did it to save you.”

  “How do you know that?” Lena looked up at her, confused.

  “It’s the truth, Lena. I’m certain of it.”

  “My father did what he did to save his family?” Lena was crying, slow, silent tears that she didn’t even seem to be aware of. “I wish he could have told me. I was so angry at him for so many years. The last time I saw him—” She buried her face in her hands.

  Caitlyn stared, unsure if she should tell Lena the whole truth or if it would upset her more. How could she comfort the girl? Bernie came to her rescue, holding Lena tight against his chest while she wept. A few minutes later Lena sniffed hard, swallowing her tears, and looked up. “If my father didn’t kill that man, then who did?”

  “Good question, but not the right one. The who doesn’t matter as much as the why.” Caitlyn paused as she spotted movement at the edge of the yard. She stared into the darkness but couldn’t make out anything solid. But they were out there. They’d be coming. Soon. She had to give Lena the info she needed and get her and Bernie to safety.

  “Then why was Tommy Shadwick killed?” Lena asked.

  “Everyone thought it was because he opposed your father’s request that the Hale family be reinstated to the tribal rolls as freedmen. Then I thought it was really because Tommy opposed the casino and your dad was just a fall guy. But I think he died for the same reason your father was kept alive all those years.”

  “Kept alive?” Lena sounded angry. Good, she’d need that strength to get through this. “My father was kept in a cage with men who were animals for the past twenty-five years for a crime he didn’t commit. You’re talking like it was all some game he was there.”

  “Think about it, Lena. Once Eli was convicted, why not have him killed as soon as he got to prison? Why risk him saying the wrong thing to the wrong person all those years?”

  “But you said he went to save us. They had what they wanted, a fall guy for their crime. Why not just leave him alone?”

  “No. He was a risk. They gave him what he wanted: his family’s safety. But he had some kind of leverage on them. And it all had to do with Tommy Shadwick.”

  “He had proof that he was innocent?”

  “No. He had proof about why Tommy had to die. He had the Freedmen Pact. The original. And he hid it for you to find after he died.”

  “Wait. The pact burned with Tommy’s house.”

  “No. That’s why they torched Tommy’s house. They couldn’t find it—but a few slips of paper, it’d take days to properly search a house. They knew Tommy was the last person who had it, so they took a chance and burned the house down thinking they’d destroyed the pact along with any evidence they were there. Except of course your dad’s hammer. They planted that in his truck since everyone knew he and Tommy’d had been arguing earlier that evening. Your dad was the perfect patsy.”

  “But why is the pact so important? All it would prove is that my family signed away their right to ever be full tribal members. It has nothing in it that anyone would kill for.”

  “The version you have has nothing in it that anyone would kill for. It says that the freedmen’s land is in the northeast edge of the reservation.”

  “Yeah. Right across from here,” Bernie put in. “My dad said that’s why the Teddy Roosevelt never got off the ground—no place to expand to with the res boundary and the park boundary sandwiching it in.”

  “That’s what everyone thought. And who would tell them otherwise? No freedmen have actually lived on that land since after the Civil War when they moved down into town to make a living at the lumber mills or moved out of the area altogether. It was a new era; they could live where they wanted. Why stay on a ragged piece of mountain, right?”

  They both nodded, still confused.

  “Wrong. The real freedmen land deeded to them in perpetuity by the pact was in the southeast corner of the reservation. Not the northeast. Best I can tell the change was made in the existing copies of the pact—the ones you got from Raleigh and from Mr. Bearmeat, Lena—in the mid- to late 1980s.”

  Bernie still looked puzzled, but Lena’s eyes grew wide as she realized the implications. “The casino. That’s where the VistaView is. And the Indian Gaming Act was passed in—”

  “Nineteen eighty-eight.”

  Lena left Bernie on the bed and sprang to her feet with fresh energy. “They knew the act was going to pass, and they knew the tribal council wanted the casino as far from Cherokee as possible. Putting it on the eastern boundary put it closer to the interstate and tourists and…” She swung her head to stare at Caitlyn.

  “And Evergreen. Where my uncle Jimmy happened to own all that worthless real estate, just sitting there, waiting for something to come along and make it worth developing. Something like a huge resort and casino. I’m sorry, Lena. I think Jimmy might be involved.”

  “He killed Tommy?”

  Bernie fell back against the pillows, looking paler. He met Caitlyn’s gaze, and she gave him a sorrowful nod. The two fathers in his life—Jimmy and Poppy—were killers. Lena didn’t realize it yet, the role Bernie’s family played in all this. He turned his face away, buried it in the pillow.

  “I think Jimmy and Poppy were in it together. Poppy provided the muscle, Jimmy provided the land and relationship with the council. All they needed was to get rid of the one opposing voice on the council and it was smooth sailing. After all, who else would the council appoint as their managing director but the man who put the deal together for them and who was getting them all that money?”
>
  “But why bring my dad into it? Why him?”

  Caitlyn continued. The best thing for everyone was to get the truth out. “Tommy opposed the reinstating the freedmen into the tribe, but he was a reasonable man, he did due diligence and researched your father’s claim. While he was searching the archives for the old tribal rolls to see if the Hale family was listed, he must have come across an original copy of the Freedmen Pact.”

  “One that wasn’t altered.”

  “Right. Since Tommy could read the original Cherokee, he realized that although it supported his contention that the freedmen not be allowed full tribal membership, it also meant that the land the casino was going to be built on actually belonged to your family and the descendants of the other freedmen families. It’s still reservation land, but the freedmen descendants would control whether or not the casino was built there—and at what price. He must have told Eli and given him the pact for safekeeping.”

  “So where is it?”

  Caitlyn pointed to the book. “Eli gave us everything we needed to find it. In his drawings. That fireplace with the carved medallion? It’s not in your house. It’s in mine.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Goose had never met a woman trucker before. But the one who’d almost run him over then stopped and helped him, letting him use her WiFi to Skype Wilson, reminded him of his aunt Tilley. All blushes and flirts but really she was a tough cookie who liked living on her own and wasn’t about to take up with any man for long.

  With her help, he’d made it back to the cabin before any of the cops. Not just the trucker’s help—good old-fashioned fear had pushed him up the trail and through the woods back to Bernie’s. Fear of what he’d find … and fear of what he wouldn’t find.

  The curtains were all drawn in Bernie’s cabin but the lights were on. That meant at least someone had to be left alive. Especially as the Reapers still congregated out front, although there were twice as many as before. What the hell were they waiting for?

  A rumbling sound punctuated by a spotlight came from the sky and he had his answer. Couldn’t be SWAT; they’d never risk a helicopter, not with the firepower in the hands of the Reapers. A few of the Reapers did raise rifles and pistols at the helicopter, then quickly lowered them as the door to the cabin opened and Caitlyn appeared, holding a gun to Poppy’s head. Poppy’s mouth was duct-taped, his wrists bound behind his back, and he looked angry enough to spark a fire with just a look.

  The Reapers swiveled their attention from Poppy to the helicopter and back. Then the helicopter landed and a man with a camera on his shoulder hopped out, followed by a petite blonde in a skirt and a velvet coat that fluttered in the rotor wash.

  “Smile, boys, you’re all on candid camera,” Caitlyn yelled.

  * * *

  Caitlyn let the camera crew catch a few shots of her as well as all the faces in the crowd. Amazing how fast the guns vanished with a camera in the midst. She almost regretted calling the staties for assistance—a pretty blonde with a microphone might be all she needed to clear the Reapers off the mountain.

  Paul beckoned to her from inside the room. Shit. No time to celebrate. “Is Bernie worse?” she asked.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said. “In private.”

  She closed the door and hauled Poppy back to the closet, shut him inside.

  “What is it?”

  “He’s back,” Paul whispered, jerking his head toward the bathroom in the rear of the cabin. “Your loser friend.”

  Goose? Her heart gave a kick of joy. “Watch the doors,” she told Paul and Lena. “Don’t let anyone in.”

  “You’re not going in there alone,” Paul protested.

  “I don’t have time to explain everything. Just do as I say.” She hated the wounded expression that crossed his face, but it was the truth. She didn’t have time. And she couldn’t expose Goose’s cover. “Please, Paul.”

  He stomped off to the front door. She ran to the bathroom, gave a knock, and burst inside.

  Goose grinned up at her from the toilet seat. “Hey there, Red. Will you still talk to me now that you’re a TV star?”

  “Best way I could see to keep the Reapers from rushing the cabin.” She shrugged. “Not exactly SOP, but when you’re outgunned and outmanned, you’ve got to make do.”

  “You up for one more acting job?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I need you to take me hostage,” he whispered earnestly. “Throw me in with Poppy.”

  “Why? To protect your cover?” The hungry gleam in his eye gave her her answer. “That’s why you came back? You really believe there’s a chance in hell Caruso is going through with it? If the man has any brains, he’ll bury the money and come back for it next century.”

  “I’ve met the man—hubris is his middle name. Hell, he probably thinks he has less chance of getting caught now with this all going down, drawing attention away from him. He can blame it all on Poppy and the Mountain Men going rogue. He knows there’s no way Poppy can talk, not without earning the same fate as Eli Hale once he’s behind bars. All I need is for you to throw me in there with Poppy. The cops have nothing on me, they’ll have to let me go. Caruso will think I was trying to protect Poppy as club enforcer, and it will buy me time to get to the money.”

  “You’re insane. You really think Poppy and Caruso will buy it?”

  “Why not?” He stood and stared down at her. “Tell me you’d do anything less if it was your op.”

  She sighed and sank onto the edge of the tub, rolling her shoulders. “Maybe Paul was right, I should quit.”

  “Why? Because you didn’t recognize that Poppy was a step ahead of us? Hell, neither did I and I’ve practically lived with the man for the past year.”

  She shook her head. He didn’t get it—how could he? “People have died because of me. Good people.”

  He sat beside her, his hand over hers, and waited.

  “Six months ago. I was following a lead. No official case, but I knew there was something. I was right. Found a psychopath getting ready to slaughter an entire town.”

  “Good instincts. Told ya.”

  “The local officer working with me got killed.” She blinked hard, talking to the floor because it was just too damn hard to find the energy to raise her head and face him. “He died saving my life.”

  “Was it your fault he died?”

  “No.”

  “And how many lives did you go on to save?”

  She shrugged. That was beside the point. “I couldn’t save him.”

  “Are you God? Do you think you can save everyone?” His voice had an edge even as his fingers gripped hers. “Because if you do, tell me now. That’s not the kind of partner I want to have watching my back.”

  “You’d rather have a screwup?”

  “I’d rather have someone who knows we all screw up and who will do their damnedest to prevent it from happening. I’d rather have someone who thinks with their head instead of their gun and who sees the possibilities, isn’t afraid to make the tough choices. Someone like you.” He stood, pulling her back to her feet. “Face it, Caitlyn. We’re both screwups in our own way. But you gotta admit, we make a helluva team.”

  She didn’t try to stop her smile. “What can I say, Carver. When you’re right, you’re right.” She dropped his hand, took a step toward the door. He surprised her by not following. “You ready to do this or what?”

  “Just so you know, the money isn’t the only reason I came back.” He grabbed her by the elbows, pulling her tight to his chest, and kissed her so deeply her vision went wobbly before she remembered to breathe again. Then he released her. “Okay. Now I’m ready.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Caitlyn yanked open the door to the closet. Poppy scowled up at her, a death wish in his eyes, making her thankful for the duct tape over his mouth.

  “I have a present for you.” She reached behind her and yanked Goose off his feet, hurling him
into the room so hard he bounced off one wall before landing on the floor. Like Poppy, his arms were bound behind him and his mouth duct-taped. “You didn’t really think I’m stupid enough to let this doofus get the drop on me, did you, Poppy?”

  She slammed the door shut again, leaving them in the dark. The less said, the more Goose would have to play with later. If there was a later.

  The satellite phone chimed. She grabbed it. “We’re in position,” the state police SWAT leader told her. “Just need a diversion out front to focus their attention away from the perimeter.”

  “Give me two minutes.” She turned to Paul and Lena. “Get ready to move. Lena, it will be safer for Smokey if she’s back in the bathroom.” Last thing they needed was a chimp going nuts in a crowd of Reapers who were itching for a fight.

  She called the news crew, made sure they were in position and out of harm’s way. Paul and Lena helped Bernie to his feet. His eyes rolled back for a moment, but then he steadied himself. Together they shuffled toward the front door.

  “You guys ready?”

  They nodded. Caitlyn shoved the phone into her pocket, keeping an open line to the SWAT leader, grabbed her gun, and went to get Poppy.

  He didn’t fight her as she hauled him to the front door. She gave Paul a nod and he opened it, keeping himself, Lena, and Bernie behind it, waiting for her signal. The Reapers out front were getting agitated again, like a bunch of sheep who couldn’t remember where home was.

  “You want me to shoot him now?” she yelled. That got their attention real fast. She pushed Poppy in front of her onto the porch, holding her gun to his head. “No? Well, here’s how it’s going to work.”

  Most of them had holstered their weapons, but a few still carried long guns. “First,” she told them, “everyone put their weapons on the ground. Then you’re going to let the civilians walk over to that news crew. Then you get Poppy.”