Double Blind

by Hannah Alexander

  Canaan listened with growing alarm. “What kind of trouble did he cause?”

  Eyotah sat down on the bench. “Other than temper tantrums and delusions of extreme self-importance, Kai nearly destroyed one freshman girl his senior year.”

  Before he could explain further, they were interrupted again. Canaan bit back his frustration and checked his messages once more. Nothing. He waited.

  Betsy Two Horses was a tough woman who seldom admitted to weakness. That concerned Sheila. She offered pain medication to help Betsy until her injection kicked in.

  Betsy turned it down. “What you’ve given me works well, and it won’t take long. I’m still curious about what you remember of your mother. Tell me more.”

  “Just because I remember my mother’s presence in the same place as the wolf doesn’t mean she had anything to do with him.”

  “A witch—usually a Navajo male—can find his power through many spirits,” Betsy said. “He can manipulate children. He controls their minds. He can also control the minds of adults if his witchcraft is powerful enough.”

  “I don’t believe anyone could have controlled my mother’s mind enough for her to allow someone to hurt me.”

  “What if she’d been convinced you weren’t being hurt? What actually was done to you?”

  Sheila didn’t know. “I remember great pain and fear, but nothing specific.”

  “And no memory of who this wolf was, or where the pain was in your body?”

  “None. Wouldn’t a mother know if her child was being hurt?”

  “Children can be frightened and in pain from things that adults understand and accept without a problem.”

  “Tell me more about my mother’s behavior at that time,” Sheila said. “Maybe that’s the key to understanding what happened.”

  “After you grew a little older, began making friends and weren’t so dependent on her, I think she needed something to occupy her free time.”

  “I remember she was gone a lot when I arrived home from school.”

  “You spent a lot of time with me in the cafeteria then.”

  “I remember. I went there a lot, because I didn’t want to go home to an empty house. Since we lived on campus, it was easy to walk over and talk to you.”

  “Evelyn kept busy in the clinic, but your father worked much longer hours than she did, often traveling to remote areas of the reservation for days at a time. She got lonely. I could tell.”

  “How lonely?”

  “I saw her spending time with some of the other men on campus.”

  Sheila winced at these words. “Please don’t tell me my mother had an affair.”

  Betsy hesitated. “There were rumors, but I never listened to those. Because we are so far from everything, and it’s hard to support a family on the wages here, a lot of our staff are single. There were a lot of single men working here at the school when you were here, too.”

  “So she might have had an affair without your knowledge?”

  “There were times when she was overly bright and a little too friendly, but I never saw anything that made me think she was doing something she shouldn’t be doing.”

  “You told me that my parents fought.”

  Betsy closed her eyes, grimacing.

  “Betsy? Are you feeling worse?”

  The older woman shook her head. “I had hoped I wouldn’t have to tell you all these things. I wish you wouldn’t ask.”

  “I’m asking. I need to know, if for no other reason than to understand my father better.”

  “She was unhappy in her marriage,” Betsy admitted at last.

  “She told you?”

  “Of course. We were friends. She talked to me a lot. She even talked about taking you and leaving Buster.”

  Sheila felt a pang of sympathy for her father. “Did he know?” Was that why he resisted talking about Mom?

  “Your mother was never one to hide her feelings.”

  “Poor Daddy.”

  Betsy’s dark eyes softened. She reached out and touched Sheila’s arm with awkward compassion. “Tell me again what you remember about your mother’s presence in the hogan.”

  Sheila closed her eyes as a memory of the dream flashed through her mind. Forcing herself to focus, she saw a few more details. “As always, I’m lying on a hard bed or a table in a hogan with a smoke hole in the middle. The hogan is smoky, and I always feel nauseated.”

  “Why nauseated?”

  Sheila shook her head. “I don’t know. I have a bitter taste in my mouth.”

  “You experience the sense of taste in your dreams?”

  “I don’t know if that’s actually in my dream, or if it’s just a memory. It’s as if I’ve eaten something foul…. That’s it, Betsy. I remember getting sick in my dream.”

  “But from what?”

  “Something I chewed and swallowed. It was bitter. And when I was sick, the wolf got angry, but he turned me over so I wouldn’t choke.”

  “Are you sure it’s the wolf who turns you over? Maybe it’s your mother.”

  Sheila thought about that, but the memory wouldn’t focus clearly.

  “Sheila, do you know anything about peyote?” Betsy asked.

  “It’s a cactus with hallucinogenic properties used in ancient rituals.”

  “Some still use it. What if the bitter taste was from peyote? It’s about the size of an overcoat button, and it’s bitter. It could have made you sick. It would also have made you hallucinate, so that later you wouldn’t remember what happened.”

  “But I remember a hypodermic needle, as well. What would that have been used for, if not to make me forget?”

  Betsy sighed and spread her hands across her lap. “Evelyn gave herself insulin shots.”

  “In last night’s dream, as I try to recall it, she isn’t the one holding the needle. Why would someone else be holding it?”

  Betsy winced. “For a lot of years, many have thought that Evelyn died of an insulin overdose. I never believed it, because she was always very careful with her medication. But what if that was how she died, only not by her own hand?”

  “The only other image I ever see in my dreams is the wolf.”

  Betsy watched her in silence.

  Sheila held her gaze. For a long moment, neither spoke.

  “Why would the wolf want to kill my mother?” Sheila asked.

  “There are all kinds of reasons for murder. Passion is one.”

  “Or fear. My mother might have seen something she wasn’t supposed to see.”

  “Such as what?” Betsy asked quietly.

  Sheila didn’t want to guess.

  “Find out who is practicing the wolf’s vile craft on this campus, Sheila, and you may find the person who killed your mother.”

  The clinic door opened, and both women started.

  “Hey, boss,” Blaze called in the outer room, “you here?”

  Sheila motioned for Betsy to stay where she was, but Betsy shook her head.

  “I’m going home.”

  Sheila sighed. “Okay, go on home. But be sure to rest.”

  Betsy saluted and walked out the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  H alfway between the administration building and my apartment a whisper brushes at me through the air. I stop. I listen. Silence.

  Is this the same little boy who taunted me before? I might suspect it to be Jamey, but this voice doesn’t hold a human quality.

  I walk on a few steps, hear the whisper again, this time more like a voice than the wind. Again I stop, and this time the whisper grows louder, becomes a childish chant:

  “Racing Deer is running, racing,

  Racing Deer is running far from here.”

  Shocked, I whirl around, but find the road deserted. The children have all gone to their dormitories.

  It’s the same taunt that dragged me from sleep several nights ago. A child calls to me, but what child? And why?

  I turn and continue to my apartment, the whisper echoing a
round me, mingling with the wind. “Racing Deer is running, Racing Deer is racing, Racing Deer…”

  The voice becomes the wind that grabs at my hair and clothes, that whistles across my ears, then turns to whispers again. It’s so often hard to tell if the spirit is wicked or benign.

  I force myself to ignore it, gritting my teeth as I walk faster. I refuse to give in this time. There is no need to be afraid. Unless spirits take a form, they cannot harm me. And a child is no match for the wolf.

  The voice stops abruptly when I enter my apartment.

  I gather food and water and place them in my jacket. I go to the chest beside my bed and pull supplies from my top drawer. I take the silver-and-turquoise knife from the hiding place where it has waited for so long. White Wolf’s knife, passed on to me from another. The power has waited within this knife all these years. Now it is time.

  I slide the knife from its leather sheath, caressing the bright pattern of worked silver where the five-inch-long blade joins with the handle. It is a good knife, beautiful, full of power. Tonight, if I must, I will use it to draw every drop of life from her body.

  But she mustn’t come for me here. I wouldn’t be safe. If she doesn’t find me here, she will know where to go. If she doesn’t know, then I will still be safe, and the knife will not be necessary.

  I hope the knife is not necessary.

  Eyotah rejoined Canaan. “I’m so sorry. This is a busy day for me, even though this is my free hour. Often it’s busier at this time of day than during class time.”

  “I understand,” Canaan said. “Black Mountain is not that far from Twin Mesas. I think I’ll drive there.”

  “You would most likely get much more information from Kai’s clan than I could ever get.”

  “I believe you’re right.”

  “Be forewarned that you will have faulty cell phone reception there, at best.”

  “I’m accustomed to that,” Canaan said. “It’s spotty in our area, as well. Please tell me more about what you know.”

  “Kai always displayed an interest in the occult, in mind control, in anything concerned with human emotions, which was why he was so interested in what I had to teach him. He became a member of the Native American Church for a while—drawn, I’m sure, by the sect’s use of peyote—but he had no interest in that brand of religion. He was seeking something, but I don’t think he found it there.”

  “And he used his newly acquired mind control methods on a young woman?”

  “Yes. From his studies with me he learned enough about hypnosis to guide this girl into a trance state. She thought she was in love with him, and she did anything he told her to do.” Eyotah shook his head sadly. “Really messed her up for a while. She attacked a teacher who had reprimanded Kai for talking during a lecture. This girl tried several times to kill herself after he lost interest in her. Kai didn’t know what he was doing. He had no right.”

  “Was all this in his file?”

  “In my files, yes, along with my suspicion that the poor girl might have been a victim of Kai’s practice of witchcraft. For a long time she spoke of the wolf within her, the wolf stalking her.”

  “Wolf…the witch. How did Kai get a job at our school? Surely my grandfather checked him out.”

  “As I said, Kai could be a charmer. He was intelligent, attractive, with plenty of charisma. Other professors on our staff didn’t agree with my opinions, nor did they believe in any of the customs of my people, or Kai’s.” The lines in Eyotah’s face deepened. “They were offended by my allegations against him, and since I had no proof, they ignored me.”

  “You mean he got away with what he did?” Canaan asked.

  “For me, it was even worse than that. I tried to help the girl, since no one would accept my theory about her problem. The dean found me practicing a private Hopi ceremony with her to try to repair the damage. The board members were outraged. I nearly lost my job. In spite of my pleas for them to help me stop Kai, they graduated him early to get him out of my way, then told me he had left the state.”

  “They lied to you, then,” Canaan said.

  Eyotah nodded.

  Canaan was amazed that such an educated man could be so duped.

  “When I went to Black Mountain to verify what I’d been told, no one would speak to me about Kai. It was as if he were dead.”

  “Perhaps no one would talk to a Hopi about him,” Canaan suggested.

  “That’s likely.”

  “That doesn’t explain everything,” Canaan said. “My grandfather is an astute man. He does background checks on every applicant.”

  “As I said, what I’ve told you isn’t in his school records.”

  “But Kai’s behavior all these years has not been anything like what you’re describing,” Canaan said. “Many years have passed without incident, until recently. I’m at a loss to understand why.”

  Doctor Whitter studied his hands for a moment. “Does Kai still have an aggressive personality? Does he like to be in control?”

  “Yes, but it isn’t as if he runs the school.” What Canaan was hearing did not ring quite true about the Kai who had been known and loved at the school for so many years. Was it possible that Kai could have been able to fool so many for so long?

  “What about your school directors?” Eyotah asked. “Have you had a large turnover?”

  “Yes. No principal seems interested in staying for long.”

  “Maybe Kai did a good job with the children as long as he was allowed to dominate—and with a new principal, that’s easier to do. It could be that as long as he got his way, he didn’t feel the need to strike out. You see, Canaan, it has to do with power. There are people who dry up and die inside when they lose their ability to manipulate others.”

  “You’re saying our former principals may have left because Kai never allowed them to do their jobs?”

  “Did you have complaints about him?”

  “Not many. Most of the complaints lodged with my grandfather over the years were not about Kai specifically.”

  “What were the complaints?” the professor asked.

  “In several exit interviews with principals, my grandfather heard that they felt unable to make changes, even in small matters.”

  “Who directs the school now?” Eyotah asked.

  “Our principal died recently from an unexplained illness. He was a good man, and he had a strong hand in everything.”

  “Then perhaps Kai’s need to control was displayed in his interaction with his students. Maybe you can find something out at Black Mountain after all these years.” Eyotah leaned forward and held Canaan’s gaze intently with his deep black eyes. “Canaan, if he’s influencing the children, I think you should get him away by any means possible. If he’s the same Kai Begay I remember, he could be stirring trouble you don’t even know about.”

  “I’ll get him out of there, no matter what it takes, as soon as I get back from Black Mountain.” Canaan helped Doctor Whitter with his coat. “I want to know what I’m dealing with first.”

  “I don’t believe you’ve had time for lunch. Our cafeteria is very close, and I would be glad to treat you.”

  “Thank you, Eyotah, but perhaps another time. You’ve been most helpful to me.” Canaan said his farewell and rushed from the campus. There would be time for food after this ordeal was over.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  I replace the knife in its sheath and put it with the other things, then wrap my jacket around it in a secure bundle. I must hurry. There is no time to get another jacket to protect me against the coolness after the sun sets tonight. I will be able to run back and stay warm.

  I am slinging the bundle over my shoulder as I jerk open the front door. I nearly collide with Steve Hunt.

  “What the—” Instinctively, I take a step backward. “Steve, what are you doing here?” I hope I’m keeping the panic from my voice.

  Steve doesn’t speak, but crosses his arms, dark eyes burning with such hostility that I feel
forced to take another step backward.

  I swallow and force my breathing to slow, returning glare for glare. “Something bothering you, Steve?” I keep my voice cool and low. Could the earlier visitation by the young chanter have been warning me about this?

  Steve’s eyes narrow further. “Going somewhere? Maybe to your haunted hogan down in the valley?”

  My skin pricks with sharp needles of foreboding. A faint whisper reaches me, blown by the breeze…. “Racing Deer is running…”

  Steve steps forward. “You thought I didn’t know?” Anger infects his voice as heavily as onions from lunch infect his breath. “You kill my mother and father and you try to seduce my little brother, and you think I’m going to watch from my safe job in the cafeteria and let you get away with it?”

  I finger the bundle of my jacket.

  “Why did you kill my parents?” Steve demanded.

  “I am sorry about your parents,” I tell him, admitting nothing. Killing is not why I do what I do.

  “How can you say that!” he shouts, pressing closer to me. “You’re not sorry, or you wouldn’t have—”

  “You’re upset, and you need someone to blame. I don’t know why you’ve decided to blame me so long after the—”

  “Because I know. My father knew. My mother knew. I heard them talking. I heard my mother tell my father about sending blood samples to the CDC, and somehow you knew, and you killed her.”

  I am so stunned I can only stare at him. This can’t be happening. What if the Centers for Disease Control has received those samples? What if they know?

  “What did my mother see that made you kill her?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.

  “You know, all right. You know.”

  I can honestly say that I do not, but I realize that Steve will not believe me. I think quickly. If Wendy sent blood samples to the CDC, the results would be back, and the Feds would be crawling all over this region of the country by now. Her death must have stopped her from following up on her plan.

  Racing Deer…

  The voice calls to me, distracting me when I dare not be distracted.