by Dana Mentink
Help me. Please.
She willed the passengers to board the plane, to get the machine off the ground and as far away as possible. Sunlight pouring through the round window caught her attention and she peered down on the tarmac below. Some orange-vested workers bustled around, driving small carts and talking into radios.
She peered closely at their faces. Was Oscar down there somewhere? Blended in with the employees? Would he decide to go after Bill in earnest after she was gone?
Nothing will stop this guy… .
Her hands began to shake and she had trouble breathing. Mother, Oscar, Bill. Her world was spiraling out of control and the only thing that would help was to leave this place immediately.
The flight attendant appeared at her side again. “Are you okay, ma’am? I notice you look upset. Are you afraid of flying?”
Yes. Afraid of flying back into the dark world she’d left. Afraid of being alone again, trapped by her own addiction.
“I’m fine, thank you. How much longer until takeoff?”
“About twenty minutes. Please let me know if I can get anything for you.” She drifted away.
Heather tried her father’s number again, but there was still no answer.
Twenty more minutes. She ground her teeth as time seemed to stand still.
Miami, Miami, she silently chanted. Things would be okay there. She’d find somewhere to stay, somewhere quiet, near the beach maybe. She and Choo Choo would make another life.
The realization hit her like a slap. In Miami, or South Dakota or some tropical island that was as far away as east from west, she would never escape the pain that assailed her at that moment.
Her mother’s betrayal.
Her father’s devotion to his wife.
Her ruined relationship with Bill.
The tatters of what had been a promising career.
There was only one escape.
Just as there had been only one way out of her alcoholism.
She had to trust Him.
And herself.
The only choice was suddenly clear in her mind as if it had been written in fluorescent paint on the cabin wall. It was a choice that would hurt deeply, she was certain, and she was not sure she could survive it.
Lord, help me to do it. Help me to be strong.
Standing on shaky legs, she squeezed by the stream of boarding passengers. The flight attendant looked up in surprise.
“Is there something you needed?” she asked.
“I need my dog. I’m getting off this plane.”
Bill pushed the truck so fast the movement rattled his teeth. On the way he phoned Crow and asked him to relay the situation to Rudley.
“Is it wired?” Crow asked breathlessly. “Should we get the bomb squad again?”
“She’s already moved it. I’ll be there in five more minutes and give you an update.”
He disconnected as he thundered onto reservation property, ignoring the curious glance from a mechanic at the small garage. Of course Oscar would switch targets when Heather was gone. The only other person close to him, the only soul who mattered, was Aunt Jean.
She’s strong, Bill. She can take care of herself.
It was true. A white woman who came to South Dakota as a twenty-year-old, doing research for a book, Aunt Jean had moved to the reservation when Bill was just a boy, shortly after his mother died. She fell in love with the place and the people and became an adopted aunt to himself, his sister and a score of other kids just as surely as if they were blood. She was strong from her endless efforts in the garden and easily commanded her pack of three dogs, leaving no room to wonder who was in charge. She was also as good a shot with a rifle as Bill. Except for the limp left by her recent fall, she was hale and hearty for her sixty-seven years.
It made him feel better to think of that as he tore off the main road down to the hollow where Aunt Jean’s trailer stood in the shade of a cluster of cottonwood trees. She was in the small fenced yard, tending the pumpkins in her garden, which glistened in the intense sunlight. As he got out of the truck, her three mixed-breed dogs barked at him until Aunt Jean corrected them. They settled on whipping their tails back and forth to express their excitement.
He let himself in through the gate and wrapped his aunt in a hug, relief flooding through him. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
She laughed, tanned skin wrinkling into a million creases. “Why wouldn’t I be okay? I’ve never been hurt by an envelope yet. Come in.”
“Where’s the envelope, Aunt Jean?”
She led him into the trailer, which was cool and filled with the smell of pickled watermelon rind. Jars of the stuff lined the counter.
“I’ll find it. Sit.” She handed him a glass of tea. “I saw the wanted posters the Tribal Rangers hung up. Oscar Birch the one who trashed your place?”
Bill looked at her. “How did you know about that?”
“Saw it on the Desert Blaze website.”
He groaned. “Heather wrote it.”
She smiled again. “I understand the Blaze wants to send someone to look at those fossils in my backyard. Seen Heather much?”
He tried to keep his tone calm. “She just flew out of town. Aunt Jean, I need to see the letter now. We can talk about Heather later.”
She pursed her lips. “You can send her to the moon, Billy, but until you’re honest with yourself about her she’ll always be tangled around your heart.”
He stood. “The envelope, Aunt Jean.”
“Never were a patient one, were you? How tired you look. I pray every day that God will send you peace.”
He resisted the urge to fire off a retort. God had sent him only grief by taking Leanne. And Johnny.
His heart added the other name.
And Heather.
He shook off the thought. “Are you going to give me that envelope or do I need to root around here and find it myself?”
She laughed. “You’re a terrible liar. You would never poke through my trailer.”
He flushed. She was right. He would not rummage through her things any more than he’d paw through a woman’s purse, unless it was absolutely necessary. Even when he had to arrest female lawbreakers, he felt a flicker of unease at violating the sanctity of a woman’s belongings. He held out his hand. “The envelope.”
She pulled it from a cubbyhole next to the fridge. “Here you go.”
He tried to take it, but she held tight, her face suddenly grave. “You are not responsible for Johnny’s death. Catching Oscar won’t lift that burden of guilt. Leave it for the police, Billy.”
Knowing that there was probably no chance of getting any fingerprints off the envelope, before he opened it he nonetheless took it by the corner and slid on a pair of latex gloves he’d taken from the truck.
There was no message.
Only a phone number.
He looked up to find Aunt Jean watching him closely. “What does it mean?”
He sat back and tried to still the pounding in his heart.
“It means Oscar wants to talk.”
Heather waved to the owner of the Rockvale Laundromat, whom she was fortunate enough to run into at the airport where he was dropping off his daughter. He’d offered her and Choo Choo a ride back to town, which she’d gratefully accepted.
As they approached the cabin, the tension knotted her stomach. Her mother was in that house. Or at least the woman who had given birth to her.
She thanked her gracious driver again and helped Choo Choo out of the car. The walk to the front door seemed endless. She wasn’t certain if she should knock or unlock the door and let herself in. Who belonged there anyway? She didn’t know.
The sun beat down on her with typical afternoon ferocity.
Choo Choo pushed his wet nose into her thigh to urge a decision from her, but she felt rooted to the spot. Would her mother be inside, reading quietly in the old rocking chair with the tattered cushion? Or preparing a pot of tea?
Her mother was home. A drea
m come true.
So why did it feel like a nightmare?
Try as she might, she could not make herself walk through the door, to see the indifferent look on her mother’s face when she arrived.
She would take care of her mother to please her father.
But she didn’t have to like it.
She turned back, hopped into the Jeep, Choo Choo beside her. “I’ve got to go see Aunt Jean about those fossils anyway, Choo. Might as well be now.”
When she’d gotten off the plane, she’d resolved to face her problems instead of hiding … but there was no reason she had to face this one right away. Knowing she was taking the coward’s way out and feeling a surge of guilty relief anyway, she dialed Dr. Egan’s number and got his voice mail.
“Hello, Dr. Egan. I’m on my way to check out the fossil find I told you about.” She gave him the address and asked him to meet her there. “I’d really appreciate your expertise.” It was a long shot, but she hoped he might be interested enough to stop by or provide some quotes.
Deep down she knew from the moment she’d come face-to-face with her mother in the airport there had been no hope of a happy reunion. She felt the same about losing Bill. The only thing left was her career. Sitting up straighter, she picked up the pace.
What would she tell Bill about her return? For a fleeting moment she imagined him welcoming her, wrapping her in the kind of warm embrace he’d shared with her in better times. But those times were gone. She would stay out of his way, live carefully and not take any unnecessary risks until Oscar was caught. Remembering the intense anger in Bill’s eyes as he’d handed her the photos, she knew things would come to a head quickly. There was too much rage on both sides to keep under wraps for long. Suppressing a shudder, she drove onto the reservation and headed for Aunt Jean’s trailer.
As soon as she saw Bill’s truck, she braked and tried to turn around, but it was too late. Bill was just exiting the trailer and he stopped midstride when he saw her. His eyes widened.
Heart beating fast, she got out and faced him.
“I’m back.”
He glowered. “I see that. Why?”
“It didn’t feel right running away.”
He took a breath so deep it strained the front of his T-shirt. “You were supposed to get yourself to safety. You remember who is targeting you, right?”
“Of course. How could I forget it? I just … needed to come back.”
There was a long pause and she felt his eyes on hers, searching for the real answer.
“It’s because of your mother,” he said quietly.
She squared her shoulders. “Not her, my father. He asked me to take care of her and I will respect what he wants, just until he comes back.”
“Your father would want you to be safe.” The anger had drained from Bill’s tone, leaving an undercurrent of something softer, and the understanding there made her feel weak in the knees. She could not have sympathy now, or she’d break down. No sympathy, not from him. She did not deserve it.
“I’m here to talk to Aunt Jean about the fossils on her property.”
“I don’t want you near Aunt Jean. She got a note from Oscar.”
Heather’s mouth fell open. “Is he stalking her now, too?”
“It was a message for me.” He held up a note. “A phone number. The FBI is tracing it right now.”
Heather felt a chill. “He’s getting daring.”
“We’re way beyond daring. You need to go home now. I’ll talk to Rudley and see if we can make arrangements for your protection.”
Aunt Jean and the dogs emerged from the trailer. The dogs barked and sniffed joyfully at the new canine arrival from behind the low fence.
“Hello, Heather. It’s been a long time,” Jean called over the yapping.
Heather felt herself flush. The last time she’d seen Aunt Jean, the woman had cooked a lovely meal for her and Bill, obviously thrilled at their dating. She’d given her homemade jam and invited her to return anytime.
Aunt Jean, though she’d never had children, was what Heather imagined a mother should be. Warm and welcoming, supportive of Bill and interested in his world. After the visit Heather had felt the same swirl of despair and sought to ease the pain with a drink. One had led to two and then more as it always did, only this time she’d decided in her impaired condition to drive to the nearest store. A couple of wrong turns had brought her onto Eagle Rock reservation territory.
She’d remembered none of it until the flashing red lights in her rearview mirror had compelled her to stop, and then the pinnacle of humiliation had occurred when Bill pulled her over.
She cleared her throat.
“Hello, Aunt Jean. My editor said you found some fossils in your backyard.”
Bill stepped forward. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to write that story now.”
“It isn’t a story about her—just a couple paragraphs about the find.”
Jean nodded and beckoned her. “Come in for some tea and we’ll talk about it.”
“She can’t come in right now, Aunt Jean,” Bill said, taking Heather by the arm and moving her swiftly away until they were out of earshot. His hand moved from her arm to wrap around her waist and she found herself pressed close to his warm chest.
She tried to squirm away. “You’re being a bully.”
“Listen to me, would you?” he hissed. “This is not a game.”
She willed herself to be still and ignore the way his arms circled the small of her back, the dark eyes that filled with emotion. “I’m going to stay. I have to earn a living.”
He let go with one hand and slid his fingers up her arm until he cupped her chin and gently forced it up. “Heather, please …”
His face was filled with desperation and longing. She found herself unable to breathe, so she pulled away and he let her go. Insides trembling, she tried to control the spinning in her head. “I’m not here to hurt you, or make your life harder, truly I’m not. I know … I know I already did both those things and I won’t let it happen again, but if I don’t stay here I will be abandoning my mother and that would mean I’m the same as her.” Heather was surprised that the thoughts tumbled out before she’d even realized she was thinking them, along with hot tears.
Bill drew close again and brushed the hair from her face, tracing one finger down her damp cheek. His touch was warm and gentle. “I’ve only known your mother for a few hours, and I know you’re not your mother.”
But maybe she was. She’d run after he’d arrested her, ignored him and the tenderness they’d shared. She’d run . . just like her mother, coming back to South Dakota only when she’d heard Bill was gone. And before that, she’d spent years running to a bottle whenever she felt she couldn’t face her problems.
A sudden paralyzing guilt hit her that made her want to turn and run again. Balling her fists and silently begging God, she lifted her face to his. “I’m not going to leave this time.”
It might have been her imagination, but she saw the glimmer of a smile on his lips until his phone rang.
EIGHT
The hair on the back of Bill’s neck rose as he recognized the voice on the line.
“Taking your time returning my call, Cloudman. Didn’t you get the message I left with your aunt?”
Bill gripped the phone and turned away from Heather but she followed him, her face etched with concern.
“It’s a matter of time before you’re caught and sent back to jail, Oscar.”
Oscar laughed into the phone. “Now, that’s the tough lawman speaking. Only, you are not a lawman anymore, are you? You are a regular guy who lost his best friend and his strung-out sister.”
“What do you know about my sister?” Bill spat the words.
“More than you think.”
While Bill fought against a tide of anger, Heather touched his arm. The sensation brought his spinning rage down a notch and he took a breath. The man was baiting him, prodding at his most vulnerable parts. “Why d
on’t you and I meet and settle this?” He ignored Heather’s suddenly tightened grip. “This is between you and me, man-to-man.”
“You’re right about that, but it’s so much fun to make you squirm. Watch the big tough guy cringe knowing I can get to his loved ones any time, any day. You deserve to twist in the wind.” His tone was suddenly flat, seething with rage. “After all, you are responsible for taking away Autie and his mother.”
Bill shook his head. It was like trying to reason with a stubborn child. “You killed your wife, Oscar, if that’s what you mean. Remember?”
“I had no choice,” Oscar shouted, the polite veneer gone.
“What are you talking about?”
“And you killed my son, Autie, my boy.”
Bill snapped into the phone, “Your boy killed a woman. He was a murderer just like his father. I helped bring him in and he tried to escape custody. The officers were doing their job and Autie gave them no other choice.”
He heard only the sound of heavy breathing until Oscar spoke again. “You are responsible, no one else. My wife, my boy, they’re gone because of you and now you are going to feel what it’s like to lose.”
A chill cut through Bill’s body. “It’s between you and me. Don’t drag anyone else into this.” Especially not Heather.
More laughter. “Now I’ve got you worried, don’t I? You should be. I have total power over your life, Cloudman. You’re a puppet and I hold the strings. I could kill you anytime.” He whispered, “Maybe even right now. Maybe I’ve got a bead on you this very moment.”
Bill pulled Heather into the circle of his arm, moving her toward the shelter of Aunt Jean’s trailer. He wanted both women inside, and fast.
Oscar wasn’t done. “But don’t worry, Cloudman. When I kill you, it will be face-to-face. I want to look into your ugly mug and know that I’ve won. Be seeing you soon.” The phone disconnected.
Bill pushed Heather and Aunt Jean into the trailer as he dialed the Tribal Ranger office. They patched him through to Crow and Rudley, who were already on their way with some information on the phone number.
