Portrait of Vengeance

by Carrie Stuart Parks

  I was afraid my legs wouldn’t hold me. Sliding off the seat, I almost crumpled to the ground. Dan caught my elbow and pulled me upright. The moon had risen and I could clearly see his face.

  He stared into my eyes. “And now it’s time.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  WAS DAN GOING TO SHOOT ME? THROW MY BODY INTO the river? Or just push me into the raging rapids? I had no strength. I’d never be able to get to shore. “What do you mean ‘it’s time’?”

  “I didn’t think the initial bombs would breach the dam. I’d hoped. But it’s always good to have a backup plan. So I packed a bunch of explosives into the diversion tunnel.”

  “What?”

  “The tunnel is forty feet in diameter, used to divert the river when the dam was being built. The ripple effect will open up the cracks and fissures left over from the original construction.”

  I took another step backward.

  “It has water in it, crystal clear. They keep a small boat down there to check on things. I just filled the boat and sent it on its way.”

  “But why? Why have you gone back to your plans of over thirty years ago? Why now?”

  “I told you. I thought I’d defeated the enemy. Before, General Howard defeated the Nez Perce. This time, I defeated Howard. I didn’t need to destroy the dam.” He glanced at his watch. “The bomb should go off about . . .” He checked his watch again. “Now.”

  Boom!

  The ground shook under my feet. The klaxon wailed, much louder here downstream of the dam than when we were at the marina. “What have you done?”

  He tucked the pistol into his pocket and took out a knife.

  I turned to run, but he caught my hands. Before I could scream, he sliced the cuffs from my wrists.

  “There’s no place to run, Gwen. The water will reach this spot before you can get away.”

  I glanced around. Could I get to the car and drive?

  “Once and for all, I’ve defeated Howard.”

  The ground rumbled again under our feet.

  “How could you defeat Howard? He died over a hundred years ago! You’re crazy!”

  Dan cocked his head at me. “You don’t know, do you? Your father’s name was Howard.”

  I took a step backward, then shook my head and moved forward. “You never defeated him. My father died in an accident.” Sirens blared around and above us as law-enforcement vehicles raced into the doomed town.

  “That was not an accident. The plane crash that killed your family—I caused it.”

  The blood drained from my head. I swayed. Don’t you dare faint now!

  “I killed you, too, Gwen, or tried to. But your spirit was too strong.”

  I grabbed my cross.

  The earth vibrated. A sharp wind whipped my hair.

  Dan pulled out his gun. “This way, this time, no one wins. We all die. The land is washed clean. My wife, my child, my people are all avenged.”

  “This doesn’t change the past.”

  Dan moved to the front of his car and leaned against it, staring at the dam. “What should I have done?” He stared at my hand clutching the cross. “Turn the other cheek?” he asked sarcastically. “Forgive the people who killed my family? My people?”

  “This wasn’t the answer.”

  Cars and trucks, horns blaring, exited from the direction of the dam. The roads leading from town were clogged.

  “Would you forgive the person who killed your family?”

  My pulse raced. I stared at the pistol for a moment, then looked at Dan. “I would have to. I can’t go through life with that burden. As my friend Beth once told me, forgiveness isn’t for them, it’s for me.”

  “Prove it.” He leveled the gun at me.

  I licked my lips, then cleared my throat. I kept having to forgive Robert. He knew how to push my buttons, get under my skin, hurt me. And Robert didn’t care.

  But with Dan, I would have only this one chance. And Dan wanted absolution.

  On shaking legs, I walked over until I was nearly toe-to-toe with the man. “Dan Kus, I forgive you.”

  Silence. The howling klaxon ceased. Traffic stopped. I tore my gaze from Dan’s face, turned around, and looked at the dam. It stood strong.

  “You didn’t bring it down,” I whispered. My vision blurred. I blinked rapidly, then turned back to Dan. “You—”

  He put the pistol up to his head and pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  I’D MADE A PROMISE THAT I WOULD KEEP. PLACING ONE of the jackets over Dan’s face, I got into his SUV and turned around. The small lane Dan had driven us on appeared little used. Dan wasn’t going anywhere for a time.

  The roads were still clogged with emergency vehicles and cars overloaded with families and possessions. Most had stopped in the middle of the street, gotten out of their vehicles, and were staring at the dam.

  No one tried to stop me.

  I debated telling one of the patrol officers about Dan’s body, but that would involve a lengthy explanation, perhaps a trip to the station, and a lot of paperwork.

  The road that veered off to the top of the dam was blocked but clear to the marina. I pulled up to the set of buildings holding the offices and apartment of the ranger. No sign of the children.

  Stepping from the SUV, I called out, “Children? I promised I’d return. Time to go.”

  Six bodies flew out of the darkness of the building.

  “Gwen!”

  “You came back!”

  I picked up a sobbing Beatrice. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  She threw her arms around my neck. “Mr. Teddy. I lost Mr. Teddy.”

  “I’ll come back and look for him. Let’s go now.” After loading up the children, making sure seat belts were buckled, and sliding in, I sat for a moment. Thank you, Lord.

  I drove directly to the Orofino medical hospital. Our arrival launched the staff into overdrive. The children disappeared into different emergency-room cubicles. I had my own curtained bed where a new set of doctors and nurses poked, prodded, took my temperature, tut-tutted, and brought me, finally, an Orofino patrol officer. The officer, a woman, politely started writing down my story as I explained who the children were and the location of Dan’s body. I could tell she didn’t believe me. “Look, you need to find Dan’s body. Then we’ll talk again.”

  She shook her head and left. I knew she, or a whole host of folks, would soon return.

  A nurse tucked me into bed. This time a real hospital bed. And I’d been given a real cotton gown, albeit open to the breezes in the back, and in an ugly pink floral pattern.

  I had no idea how long I slept, waking only when a nurse would visit on her rounds.

  A doctor—at least I assumed he was a doctor—looking to be about eighteen years old checked my vitals the next day. “If you’re up to it”—he prodded along my jawline, examined my fingers, and peered into my eyes—“there’s a crowd out in the hall waiting to talk to you.”

  “Okay, but first tell me about the children. Are they . . . okay?”

  He smiled briefly. “They tell me you’re an angel. Hospital rules prevent me from saying that all the children appear to be healthy and unharmed.”

  “Did any of them tell you . . . what happened to the little girl whose body we found?”

  “The oldest boy said a little girl was very sick when he . . . um . . . arrived. He said she disappeared one day. After that, the man put the new kids into isolation for a few weeks.”

  I relaxed into my pillow. Thanks again, Lord. “Do you think I should freshen up to talk to everyone?”

  “Nope. You need to look like you’ve twice suffered from hypothermia, spent a night in a plane crash fighting off a cougar, faced a madman, rescued six kids, and swam in the freezing reservoir.” At my expression, he grinned. “People talk.” He raised the head of the bed, stood, and opened the door.

  The first one in the room was Seth.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  Seth took a c
hair, sinking down into it as if his body could no longer hold up his weight. Face pale, eyes sunken and underscored with purple, cheeks more prominent, he looked like he’d aged ten years. “I spoke with the oldest boy. He told me much of what happened. And I saw . . . my dad. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, Seth. None of it was your fault.”

  “Dad used to say . . . the sins of the father passed on to the son. But he kept saying he could reverse the past.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

  “Your dad and I didn’t have the same philosophy.” I pushed the button to raise the bed even more. “He had a lot of demons haunting him.”

  “He didn’t share that much with me. All that happened with the AIM, Wounded Knee, my mom’s and sister’s murders.”

  Seth doesn’t know that Dan killed my parents. I would never tell him. Some burdens didn’t need to be shared.

  Seth looked at me. His eyebrows furrowed, his lips pulled down at the corners. “He tried to kill you.”

  “I forgave him. For everything.”

  “I don’t know that I can, though.” He stood and moved toward the door.

  “Seth.”

  He paused but didn’t turn around.

  “A much wiser person than I said there would be seasons in our lives. A season doesn’t last forever.”

  He glanced over. “And when that season is over?”

  “We’re friends. Call me.”

  He left, closing the door quietly behind him.

  I stared at the closed door for a long time.

  The hospital released me that afternoon, only so I could be whisked away by first the Lewiston police, then the Clearwater County Sheriff’s Department, then the Nez Perce Tribal Police. I was plied with greasy hamburgers, bad coffee, and soggy french fries. Midnight came and went before someone offered to drive me back to the motel. Someone had found my gear in the back of Dan’s SUV and unloaded everything into the room. I was too tired to see if anything was missing. I was too tired even to care.

  I woke to the bang of a nearby car door. My mouth felt like it had been stuffed with dirty socks, and I hadn’t bothered to undress from the night before. I found the same tiny coffeepot and heated up one bad cup.

  A quick check of my belongings showed everything intact. I found some clean clothes and put them in the bathroom to change into after my shower. Holly’s jewelry box went on the bedside table.

  Someone pounded on my door. I peered through the window. Beth spotted me and gave a small wave. Winston merely stared intently at the door. I let them in.

  “Oh, you look awful. Did you really save all those kids? You won’t believe all that’s happened. You’ll have to guess. You’ll never guess, though. And Winston’s much better.”

  Winston shoved me backward until my knees hit the bed, then he jumped up and lay across my stomach.

  “Thank you. Yes. I won’t. I don’t want to. You’re right. That’s good.”

  Beth gave a delighted laugh. “You’re fixed!”

  “I didn’t know I was broken. Can you get this dog off me?”

  Beth grabbed his collar and pulled. I slid from underneath him and stood. Winston stayed on the bed, eyeballing a pillow.

  “Seth called and said I could pick you up. But you simply won’t believe what’s happened. I can’t even believe it. It’s wonderful news.”

  I was fixed. I wanted to throw a pencil at her head. “Beth, just tell me.”

  “I will, but I almost forgot. Seth told me to bring you some food.”

  Before I could speak, she’d opened the door, flipped the metal security latch so it wouldn’t lock behind her, and left.

  Winston watched her exit from the bed, then flopped over onto the nearest pillow.

  “You’re a whole lot calmer than the last time I saw you,” I said to the dog. “Looks like you were fixed as well.”

  He lifted his head.

  “In a manner of speaking. Nothing personal, ol’ buddy.”

  Beth returned with a large cooler. “First course is black-olive tapenade with figs. Then tomato, cucumber, and sweet onion salad with cumin salt, and fried chicken with spicy raspberry honey.” She dumped the cooler on the desk, opened it, and pulled out a loaf of bread. “And artisan bread.”

  “No dessert?” I muttered as I filled the paper plate she brought. “So? What’s new?”

  “Well.” She moved Winston’s legs over so she could sit on the bed. “The guy who was the head of the Interagency Major Crimes Unit—”

  “Commander Gary James.” I took a second helping of salad and grabbed a hunk of bread.

  “Yes. He took a job as chief of police at some big department, and guess who is taking his place?”

  I was going to throw that pencil at her head just as soon as I finished eating. “Who?”

  “Dave Moore. Your buddy, Sheriff Dave! And he’s going to hire you as the forensic artist. And the best news of all?”

  I put down the chicken leg. I have a job? I have a job! “What’s the best news of all?”

  “Dave said I could work as support staff. Logistics, computer work, you name it!” She did an arm-waving jig around the room. “I get to wear a badge. We’ll officially be working together. Don’t you love it?”

  “I do. I can’t wait.” Placing the chicken leg on the paper plate, I wiped my fingers and gave Beth a hug. “Can I borrow your phone?”

  “Sure.” She handed me her cell.

  I dialed. “Hi, Robert? I’m coming home. My job is waiting for me. You can bring all of Aynslee’s things back to the house when you drop her off.”

  “But—”

  “And I’ll see you in court.” Click. I handed Beth her phone and grinned. “That felt really good.” She gave me a high five.

  Winston jumped off the bed and headed for my abandoned chicken leg, flipping the jewelry box off the table with his tail. It crashed against the floor and broke into two pieces.

  “Oh no!” I picked up the top and bottom.

  Beth took the pieces from my hands. “Why don’t you take a shower and get dressed. I’ll see if I can put the box together.”

  “Thank you. And thanks for the great food.”

  A half hour later, showered and fluffed, with a hint of perfume and fresh makeup, I exited the bathroom. Beth had replaced the food into the cooler and was in the only chair, holding something. She looked up as I entered. “You clean up well.”

  “What do you have?” I indicated her hand.

  “It was in the box’s lining. Some photos.” She handed me the top one, a faded photograph of a far younger Holly.

  I had a funny, hollow feeling in my stomach.

  “What are you thinking, Gwen?”

  “I don’t know what to think just yet. I need time to process all that happened.”

  She handed me a second photo. I was standing in front of a white picket fence in what was probably an Easter outfit. I looked about five. The third photo, the most faded, was of a man and woman. They appeared to be in their thirties. I turned it over. Someone had written in faded blue ink John and Mary Evelyn Howard. Moving to the window, I tilted it until I could more clearly see the faces. “Mom and Dad,” I whispered.

  Beth moved over to see. “Your parents?” She took the photograph and read the back. “You’re Gwen Howard Marcey!”

  I grinned at her through my tears. “So I am. My season of searching is over.”

  “I’ll start looking for their graves. Oh, that reminds me of a couple of things. They finally recovered Phil’s body.” She picked up her purse and pulled out my cell. “And Officer Attao’s had your phone since he located it in the saddlebags of Phil’s horses. Seth said everyone kept forgetting to give it back to you.”

  She handed the cell to me. It showed eleven messages, all from Blake. I clicked on the first message.

  “Hi, Gwen. I’ve been a jerk. I realize a missing child can’t wait, but I can. Please call me. I’d . . . I’d like to try again.”

  Beth touc
hed me on the shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

  I grinned. “Oh yeah.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  THIS STORY, LIKE SEVERAL OF MY PREVIOUS BOOKS, came from a simple comment by my husband, Rick. “I find the Nez Perce tribe fascinating. Why don’t you write about them?” I, too, found the story of the Nez Perce, Chief Joseph, Lewis and Clark, and Sacajawea formed a rich tapestry backdrop for a novel. As in all my books, I threaded actual cases and history into the story line. Rick’s FBI former boss, hero, and mentor, Horace Hefner, worked on the Leonard Peltier, Pine Ridge case. In addition, I used a murder I’d worked on for the details of the homicides.

  Much of the legwork and research came from Marcus and Molly Smith, dear friends who lived in the north central part of Idaho for many years. Marcus and Rick, banjo-picking buddies, drove around the various locations, took photos, and made notes. They met with Matt Young and toured the visitor center at the dam. They also ate their weight in pork products. Molly provided much feedback both as a beta reader and with her lyrical notes on the Clearwater valley.

  Dave Pfieffer provided a lovely description of a plane crash . . . well, okay, maybe “lovely” isn’t the right word. Karen Fisher, Dreamer Horse Farm on Lopez Island, Washington, provided insight on Nez Perce and Akhal Teke horses. Thank you to Jordyn Redwood, author and editor. My gratitude goes to David Turk at the US Marshals Service.

  Richness and depth came from a brainstorming retreat at the home of bestselling author Colleen Coble, along with Robin Caroll, Ronie Kendig, and Michelle Lim. I thank them so much for a wonderful experience.

  My beta readers, Kerry Woods, Lorrie Jenicek, and Michelle Garlock, are greatly appreciated blessings.

  A special thank you to Phil Cicero, Tennessee Bureau of Investigations, for telling me that dying in my book was a bucket list item for him. I hope it was sufficiently gruesome.

  My awesome agent, Karen Solem, provided me with inspiration, advice, and guidance. I am indebted to her for so much.

  Amanda Bostic, editor extraordinaire, is a rock! And she rocks! Her insight encourages me to do more and better. My first experience working with author and editor Erin Healy was fantastic. I hope to work with her again in the future. A lot.