The Healer

by Sharon Sala

  “Get up.”

  Ahern stood, but when he tried to run, all he managed to do was wet himself.

  “You’re coming with me,” Jonah said, and grabbed him by the arm.

  Ahern tried to say no. He tried to pull free. He tried everything he could think of to get away, but the only things that worked were his feet and legs, and they were moving at someone else’s whim.

  Jonah eyed the pad of blue paper and the pens Ahern had pulled out of his desk, then decided to leave them where they lay. Those were things for the sheriff to deal with. He headed for the door, taking Ahern with him. Moments later, they were outside, going down the sidewalk, then across the street, moving back toward town.

  The kid on the skateboard stopped to stare. Something was wrong with Mr. Ahern. Blood was running out of his nose, and it looked like he’d peed his pants. Startled, he ran into the house to tell his dad, who looked out the window, then quickly called the sheriff.

  Tom Mize was in his patrol car on the way back from Doc Bigelow’s office, relieved to know he had not suffered a stroke or a heart attack after all, when he got the call from Earl that an Indian had assaulted Mark Ahern and was dragging him down the street.

  He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but just the thought of facing that man again made him sick to his stomach.

  “I need assistance,” Mize told Earl. “Get yourself into a patrol car ASAP.”

  “But, Sheriff, there won’t be anybody to man the dispatch if I—”

  “Move it, Earl! Now!”

  Deputy Earl Farley keyed off the mike and grabbed his coat. He was on the way out the door when he realized that Harold Carter was waiting for him to come talk to Luce Andahar about her stalker. Well, she would just have to wait. He checked his handgun, making sure it was riding safe in the holster, then headed for his patrol car. He’d never shot at anything but paper targets and critters with fur or feathers, and he hoped this wasn’t the day that all changed.

  Ahern was only vaguely aware that people were coming out of their houses. Some even began following, calling out to know what was happening, but Jonah didn’t answer and Ahern couldn’t, so the crowd kept their distance.

  Someone called Shug Marten to share the gossip, and he dropped his half-eaten sandwich and grabbed the phone to call Harold Carter.

  Harold was heating up some soup for himself and Luce when the phone rang.

  “Hey Luce, get that, would you?”

  She picked up the receiver. “Carter residence.”

  Shug was surprised to hear a woman’s voice at Harold’s place, then realized it was Luce.

  “Luce, is that you?”

  “Yes…Shug?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. Something big is happening. I just got a call saying your Indian friend beat the hell out of Mark Ahern and is dragging him toward town. I just thought—”

  Luce dropped the phone and grabbed her coat.

  Harold caught her on the way out the door.

  “Whoa, there…where’s the fire?”

  “That was Shug. He said that Jonah is heading toward Main Street with Mark Ahern, who’s beat all to hell.” She shuddered. “That means Mark is the man who’s been stalking me.” Then she covered her face with her hands. “Why? Why would he do something so ugly? I thought he was a good person.”

  Harold patted her shoulder. “I don’t know what’s happening, but what say we both go find out? Let me get my coat.”

  Moments later they were down the stairs and hurrying out onto the sidewalk. A couple of cars drove past, and the barber shouted a hello to Harold as he locked up his business for the night.

  Harold waved without looking to see who it was, then pointed down the street to their right.

  “Down there! I see people running.”

  They started down the street together, but within moments, the crowd parted and Luce got a glimpse of a tall, dark-haired man dragging another man by the arm.

  Jonah.

  She began to run.

  She ran past the beauty shop and the bank, and then started to cross the intersection just as Earl Farley came flying around the corner in a patrol car.

  “Oh, Lord,” Luce muttered, and jumped back in fright.

  Jonah was oblivious to the crowd and their cries of alarm. When one man roared up in a four-wheel truck and jumped out with a rifle in his hand, Jonah never missed a step.

  “Stop right there!” the man yelled, and then lifted the rifle to his shoulder. “I’ll shoot you where you stand if you don’t turn him loose.”

  Jonah turned and looked at him. Without raising his voice, he fixed the man with a steady stare.

  “Get in your truck and go home. Now.”

  The man turned pale. His hands began to shake, and despite every instinct he had to shoot the stranger who’d beat up their mailman, he put down his rifle, got in his truck and drove away.

  All that did for the crowd was add to the mystery of what was going on. By the time Jonah got to Main Street, at least forty people were behind him, shouting and talking and calling out to Ahern in concern.

  He felt their fear and distress, but he also knew they wouldn’t act. Then he heard an approaching siren. Finally he could turn Ahern over to the authorities.

  At that moment Tom Mize came flying out of an alley in his patrol car, running hot, with lights and siren blasting. At the same time, Earl Farley, in the other patrol car, turned the corner by the bank.

  Jonah sighed, then braced himself for the impact he saw coming. Damn it all to hell, this was going to make turning the stalker over to the sheriff even more difficult than it already would have been.

  Earl screamed out in shock as Sheriff Mize shot out of the alley right in front of him.

  Mize caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye, and turned to look just as Earl hit the brakes and turned left. Cursing the world and everyone in it, Mize hit the brakes and turned right. Both cars began to spin out. The ensuing crash was like something out of a Hollywood movie.

  Mize sailed past Earl on the first spin, as Earl’s car began to slide, leaving wide streaks of black on the concrete. The scent of burning rubber filled the air. Then, somehow, they managed to miss each other on the first spin. Just when the onlookers were about to breathe a sigh of relief, the separate vehicles slid sideways, and again, collision was imminent.

  Still cursing, Mize did the only thing he could think of and jammed his car into Park. The roar and clank that followed from the engine was the sound of every gear in the box shearing off to the hub. His car shuddered and jerked as Earl’s car sailed on past, coming to a stop up on the curb only a few inches from the plate-glass windows of the jewelry store.

  The crowd was silent, waiting to see what happened next.

  Both sheriff and deputy sat for a moment, then, in unison, got out of their cars, and turned and looked at each other.

  Jonah took that moment to drag Mark Ahern out into the street, then dump him at Mize’s feet.

  Sheriff Mize looked at Ahern, then at Gray Wolf. He could still remember the helpless feeling of being unable to speak or move, and was almost afraid to open his mouth. Still, with so many witnesses, he felt safe in giving it a try.

  “What have you done?” he asked.

  “Talk,” Jonah said, pointing to Ahern.

  Mark rolled over onto his back, then opened his mouth.

  “I’m the one who’s been stalking Luce Andahar. I’ve been leaving her notes for months. I set a trap and tried to kill her dog so she wouldn’t have any protection. It didn’t work. Then I left a note in her coat pocket when I was at the diner this morning.”

  He covered his face with his hands, unable to believe what had just come out of his mouth.

  To a man, the crowd was silent, stunned by what they were hearing.

  Then Jonah looked up and saw Luce. She was coming toward him. Her steps were staggering, and her face was pale. He could tell she was in shock. He couldn’t blame her. The damned mailman. Who would ha
ve guessed?

  She walked into his arms and hid her face against his chest as he held her close.

  “You did it,” she whispered, and then looked up at him. “Is it over…really over?”

  “It will be if Sheriff Mize can find the time to arrest the bastard,” Jonah muttered.

  Mize was staring at Ahern as if he’d never seen him before.

  “Is this true, Mark? Why would you do such a thing?”

  Ahern started to hedge, then Jonah kicked the sole of his shoe and said, “Don’t lie.”

  Ahern’s nose was so swollen he could barely see, and his mind was in a panic, trying to find a way to shut up. But like before, he began spilling his guts without reserve.

  “I’ve been doing it for years. It’s what I do. Luce was only one of many. I pick out the ones who are alone. They’re the easiest.”

  Mize felt like he was going to throw up.

  “What are you saying? That you’ve been stalking and torturing women for years?”

  Ahern nodded.

  Jonah held Luce a little tighter as he glared at Ahern, who quickly shut up.

  “Mize…before you search his house, you might want to get a warrant, just so everything is proper. Because besides the notepad and pens on his desk, which match the notes he was leaving for Lucia, there’s a trunk in his office with trophies from his other kills.”

  Luce gasped as her legs went weak. Kills?

  Tom Mize swayed as if Jonah had punched him. “Kills? He kills them?”

  “Said he’d been doing it for years. He keeps mementos of his victims in that trunk. You may be solving a lot of cold cases with this arrest, so do it right.”

  Then Jonah squatted down in front of Ahern. “Don’t lie. Don’t leave out a thing, or I’ll know it, and I’ll make you sorry.”

  Ahern glared. “You can’t—”

  “I can, and I will,” Jonah said, then leaned closer to Ahern until his lips were against his ear. “And they’ll never find your body. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

  Something slid through Ahern’s mind—something darker and more frightening than the thoughts that already lived in him—and he knew, without understanding how, that the Indian could do what he said.

  He blinked. When he looked again, the Indian was gone.

  Jonah moved past the crowd without looking at any of them. His focus was on Lucia. She was trembling and crying, and it was making him sick. He couldn’t stand it any longer.

  He picked her up in his arms and cradled her against his chest, carrying her as he would have a child. She shuddered on a sob, then laid her head in the crook of his neck and closed her eyes.

  Shock rippled through every facet of her body. She couldn’t quit thinking of all the times she’d served that man food, laughed with him, been alone with him as he’d stop to visit when he delivered her mail. It was nothing short of a miracle that she was still alive.

  “You’re going to be all right,” Jonah said softly, as he carried her toward Bridie’s old truck.

  Harold had fallen into step behind them without talking, but once they reached the diner, he called out to Jonah.

  “She left her purse upstairs. Hang on a minute and I’ll go get it.”

  Jonah eased Lucia into the truck seat, then laid his hand against her cheek.

  She could feel the warmth of his hand and hear the deep timbre of his voice close to her face, but she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes open.

  Jonah kissed the side of her face, then whispered softly, “It’s over, Lucia. You have nothing left to fear. You are strong. You are safe. Rest. We’ll be home soon.”

  Lucia sighed as his voice swept through her, wiping her mind clean of everything except peace.

  She remembered leaning back; then, within seconds, she was asleep.

  Jonah stepped forward and took the purse from Harold at the bottom of the stairs and had started toward the truck when Harold called him back.

  “I just want to shake your hand, son,” Harold said gruffly. “You did a fine thing, taking care of her like you did. I don’t rightly understand how it all happened, but I’m sure grateful she doesn’t have to live in any more fear.”

  “So am I,” Jonah said, as he shook the man’s hand. “We’ll see you tomorrow,” he added.

  Harold cleared his throat nervously. “Listen…if she isn’t up to—”

  “She’ll be fine,” Jonah said. “You’ll see.”

  And then they drove away.

  He carried Lucia into the cabin, then laid her on her bed.

  Hobo whined anxiously as he followed Jonah into the bedroom.

  “She’ll be fine,” he said gently. “But if you feel like staying with her, I know she’d like that.”

  Hobo sniffed at her hand hanging off the side of the mattress, licked the ends of her fingers, then lay down on the rag rug beside her bed and put his chin on his paws.

  “I’ll leave the door open,” Jonah said. “Let me know when you want to go out.”

  Hobo blinked.

  It was enough. Jonah got the message.

  Outside, night was upon them. For the first time in months, all was well in Lucia’s world.

  And Jonah’s was about to come undone.

  Twelve

  D. J. Caufield had been in West Virginia for several days, flashing Gray Wolf’s picture around in small towns along the way, but with no success. Disgusted and cold, D.J. finally stopped for lunch at a little café in a small town just inside the Monongahela National Forest. Local programming was showing on the television hanging over the counter while D.J. was chowing down on a BLT, when they began flashing a news bulletin. Caufield listened absently as the journalist began his report from a town called Little Top, where a serial killer had been jailed days earlier. According to the reporter, the man who’d committed the murders, Mark William Ahern, would not be moved from where he was now incarcerated until jurisdiction for his crimes could be determined. And also, according to the reporter, the FBI would be taking over the case, since there were many deaths and they crossed several state lines.

  None of this story was of much interest to Caufield, until the name Jonah Gray Wolf was mentioned as the person who’d brought him in. At that point, the sandwich was forgotten.

  Caufield pulled out a map and began looking to see how far Little Top, West Virginia, was from this current location. At best guess, it was about a half-day’s drive. The town had better have a decent motel, because that was going to be the first order of business. It was too damned cold for stakeouts.

  Luce felt like the weight of the world was gone from her shoulders. She went through the days with a permanent smile on her face. All the regulars at Harold’s diner had their say about what she’d endured, then added their own choices for meting out justice to Mark Ahern.

  Luce kept reminding them that it was only thanks to Jonah that she was still alive, unlike the earlier victims, who’d been reduced to nothing but trophies in Mark Ahern’s steamer trunk.

  But Jonah’s heart was heavy, although he did a good job hiding his concerns. He hadn’t known that a national news crew had descended on Little Top until he’d gone to pick Luce up from work the day after Ahern’s arrest. But the moment he’d seen them and learned that Sheriff Mize was giving out interviews right and left about how he’d come to be in possession of a serial killer, his heart had almost stopped.

  It was no longer a case of whether Bourdain found him again so much as when the next hunter would arrive. He wanted to grab Lucia and run, but he’d already made up his mind not to drag her into the kind of life he was forced to live. And yet, leaving her behind was equally impossible, even though everyone in town knew about them, which not only meant Lucia’s life was in danger again, but that he’d been the one to put it there.

  The small mountain town was still full of news crews, and would be until Ahern was moved to another location for incarceration until trial. There were many—too many—unfamiliar faces, which kept Jonah on constan
t alert. He had no way of knowing who was legitimate and who might be hunting bounty. He was sick to his stomach about the mess he’d put her in. Even worse, he didn’t know how to tell her.

  But there was one thing he had done right in the past few days. He’d brought Bridie into town to spend the day with her old friend, Ida Mae. Bridie was over the moon with excitement, already dressed and waiting for her ride when Jonah arrived to do chores.

  Jonah saw the light on in the kitchen and stopped at the back of the house to check on Bridie before he went to do chores.

  She met him at the door, pink-cheeked, her eyes sparkling. “Good morning, Jonah. Have you had your breakfast?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I have.” He eyed the clothes she was wearing and realized she was already ready to go.

  “Have you talked to Ida Mae?”

  Bridie nodded. “Oh, yes. We talked on the phone last night for almost an hour. She’s been piecing a quilt for a Christmas present for one of her granddaughters, and I told her I’d help her set the batting. That’s quite a job for one person, you know…trying to get the backing and the quilt top in proper perspective with the batting in between.”

  Jonah smiled. “I hope you’re not planning on working all day?”

  “Oh, no…we’re going to go to Harold’s for lunch. Land sakes, it’s been ages since we’ve done that. And Ida Mae says she’ll run me by the library before the day is over. I can’t remember the last time I checked out something to read. They’ve probably got all kinds of new books since I was there.”

  “That’s good,” Jonah said. “Remember, Luce or I can always return them for you, and whenever you want to check out some more, or go into town for another lunch with Ida Mae, all you have to do is say so.”

  Bridie patted Jonah on the cheek as if he were a child.

  “You’re a good boy, Jonah. I don’t know what set you to thinking about me this way, but I’m sure glad you did. Ever since I quit driving, I’ve just turned myself into a hermit. Franklin would have had a fit at the way I’ve been acting.”