by Karen Harper
* * *
At the reception following the burial, Kate looked around the crowded Fellowship Hall for Grant. He’d been greeting people, helping Nadine. She wasn’t sure he’d gotten any food from the long buffet table. She hadn’t seen him for a while, surely longer than a men’s-room stop would take. She knew he was depressed. However, he’d put on a good show today, and she was worried about him.
She kept busy helping Amber with her three boys, as Todd, too, was mingling, and Amber’s parents had gone home because her mother had a bad summer cold. Like Grant and Todd, Brad had mixed with others—briefly—but now sat at a table in the corner, talking to several people she didn’t know. At least he was drinking only coffee. Lacey was here, not sitting with Brad but close to him.
“Nadine seems to be holding up okay,” Amber told Kate. “I’d be a basket case if I ever lost Todd.” Amber had brought crayons and paper for her boys. They were eating chocolate-chip cookies and scribbling away at pictures, sometimes proudly showing them to their mother and Kate. The younger boys, Aaron and Andy, were drawing trees with a man way up in them, but the oldest, Jason, had drawn a cowboy with a brimmed hat, two guns—and a big, yellow star on his chest.
“Oh, what’s that star for?” Kate asked him.
“He’s the sheriff. I named him Gabe. It’s a badge like Grandpa gave us, but I can’t find it, none of them.”
“So Grandpa gave you more than one star?”
“Three, ’cause there’s three of us.”
“Oh, Mary Ann, how are you?” Amber said and bounced up from her folding chair to greet a woman who’d approached with a very elderly man. Kate had noticed them at the funeral. “And it’s so nice to see your dad again,” Amber said, in a loud voice, shaking his hand. “Hello, Mr. Custer!”
“A nice turnout,” he said, nodding so hard that his white, shaggy mane bounced. “Sad occasion. I’ve seen many a passing, but that’s what you get when you’re old as the hills. I wanted to see this young lady here,” he said, indicating Kate. “I knew her daddy years ago.”
Kate stood and shook his hand. She still felt guilty over giving her father the cold shoulder when Tess and Char had been so glad to see him.
Amber introduced them all around. “Mr. Custer was a friend of Grant and Brad’s dad, too,” Amber told Kate in the awkward lull when Kate didn’t pursue the comment about her father.
“And, goin’ way back, knew their granddaddy,” the old man said in a loud voice. “We was hunting buddies when the Mason men weren’t working at their sawmill. Got us venison in the woods out back of their house, more’n once.”
“Kate’s a professor and explorer of Adena mounds like we have around here,” Amber told him, also speaking loudly, so Kate took the hint the old man was hard of hearing.
And when he repeated the information about being a hunting buddy of Grant’s grandfather, Kate realized he was forgetful at best, had dementia at worst.
“I’m hoping to get permission to excavate the Mason Mound behind their house,” she told him, raising her voice. “And maybe some others in the area.”
“Mason Mound? Why, the boys’ granddaddy looked into it. Let’s see—must have been in ’39, coupla years before a bunch of us got drafted and sent to the Pacific. I knew men who’d survived Pearl Harbor but was sent on a battleship to Iwo Jima, myself. Lived through that hell, you can live through anything, so I’m almost ninety-two now.”
The elderly man went on, while his daughter tried to shush him. The McCollum boys started to squabble, and Amber had to settle them down. But Kate’s mind had snagged on the fact the old man had said Grant’s grandfather had looked into Mason Mound. Did he mean he’d entered it or just studied about it? It surely must be the latter.
Kate wanted to ask about that. He did seem clear on things the further back he went, and 1939 was pretty far back. But Mary Ann was tugging her dad away. It touched Kate to see how devoted she was to him. It made her feel guilty again about how she had treated her own father. She should have asked Mr. Custer about his memories of her dad. His memories could be jumbled, warped information from an elderly, forgetful man, so she’d just ask Grant—if she could find him.
* * *
In the deserted sanctuary, Grant knelt next to Paul’s angel carving on the tree trunk. He’d tipped it over and looked at it from all sides, especially the bottom, wondering if there was a place Paul could have secreted a package with his Adena eagle pendant inside. If it was not in this carving, he’d try to check out others. Each crack intrigued him but nothing seemed to outline a hiding place.
“Grant. Are you okay?”
He jerked his head around. Kate, alone, walked down the center aisle.
“Yeah. Just wondering how Paul did this. I never really watched him work,” he told her, quickly tilting the heavy block of wood back on its base.
She came closer, her dress swishing against her bare legs. She leaned down and put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s strange how once someone’s gone you think of all kinds of things you wanted to say or ask.”
He nodded and stood, brushing bark off his hands. They sat in the front pew, silent at first.
“Grant, I met old Mr. Custer and his daughter.”
“Now, there’s one who goes way back. Sam’s ancestors probably knew the original Falls family that pioneered this area.”
“He said he knew your dad and grandfather. And he said a funny thing...that your grandpa once looked into Mason Mound. He even knew the year.”
Grant fought not to react, but he was upset to hear that Sam Custer knew Grandpa had entered the mound. Dad had learned about it, since he was in the discussion Grant had overheard years ago. Grandpa had been so awed and scared by what he’d seen inside the mound that he hadn’t touched anything—unlike his grandsons years later.
He cleared his throat. “I wish my folks had lived into their nineties like Sam Custer. But Sam gets pretty mixed up on things.”
“He said it was 1939. He seems pretty clear when he gets that far back. His exact words were he looked into it.”
“He must mean Grandpa got information on it somehow—checked out what the mound was—might be. When he learned it could be a burial spot, he obviously decided to honor the dead and passed that idea on to Dad and me. After all, we wouldn’t go digging up graves where we buried Paul today, so the ancients deserve the same respect.”
“Sorry to bring it up today. Looked into could mean they studied it, of course. Did you ever come across any notes on it, something like that?”
“No. Kate, you’ve got to let up on this. If I were you, I’d spend my time trying to nail Bright Star for leaving his own relics on the mounds, see if you can rattle his cage and maybe pry your cousin’s family out of that cult, one that’s hurting modern people.”
“I intend to do that, too. I know you’re grieving and have a lot on your mind. I shouldn’t have brought this up now.”
“Thanks for understanding. Your support means a lot and—”
He saw a big shadow on the wall, turned and stood. It was his forklift operator from the mill, Keith Simons.
“Keith. What is it?”
“Sorry, boss. Just noticed you were gone awhile and wanted to check that you’re okay. But I see you’re well taken care of. Again, my regrets for the loss of your friend. See you at work tomorrow.”
And he was gone.
“He moves fast for such a big guy,” Kate observed. “And I’m glad you have someone watching out for you there, even if you are the big man on your own campus.”
“We’d better get back downstairs before everyone else looks for me or leaves, okay?” he said, trying to keep his voice light.
They stood. At least, she’d taken it well about his grandfather looking into the mound, but he felt rotten about deceiving her again. What was that old saying
about what tangled webs we weave when we deceive?
She put her arm through his as he escorted her toward the back of the church. They’d probably never walk a church aisle together as man and wife—too many differences and contrasting goals. He had to be careful he didn’t make another mistake like he had with Lacey.
That thought disturbed him, and he stepped away from Kate at the top of the stairs. He could hear the buzz of voices below. He wanted to say goodbye to Nadine, tell her he’d like to stop by to look at Paul’s carvings, choose one or two to buy—and, in the process, check them for the eagle pendant. If only they’d left the relics untouched that day!
“It’s a lovely old church,” Kate said, turning to glance back at the sanctuary. “But I like the way they’ve updated it, too—a good blend of honoring the past but with the modern.”
Was she subtly trying to work on him again to let her modern techniques study ancient Mason Mound? He turned back to look at the altar, the cross. And he felt doubly ashamed that not only had he lied to her again, but he’d done it in the heart of the church, too. What shook him more than that was, for a blurred moment, again in his mind’s eye, he saw the dark sanctuary of death in the mound, the ornaments of Adena worship laid out around the two main skeletons, circled by human sacrifices with their skulls smashed.
15
Kate was appalled she’d slept late the next morning, but she and Grant—Brad, too, sober—had stayed up late talking about everything except Mason Mound. She’d promised to get their breakfast, but they’d obviously been quiet and just let her sleep. The house was silent.
She got up, threw on her robe and padded into the kitchen. They’d left some coffee, so she poured a cup and stared out the window. The mound beckoned to her, just as it must have to generations of inhabitants here. Especially, it seemed, Grant’s grandfather.
She looked around for a local phone book and found a skinny, old one that covered the whole county. Amber had said Sam Custer’s daughter Mary Ann was unmarried. Kate was guessing the old man might live with her. Despite Grant’s smooth shift of topics and his comments that Sam was senile, which she’d seen for herself, she wanted another interview with the man.
She called the Custer number. Yes! Mary Ann lived in her parents’ home not far from here, and Kate was welcome to come over. “I meant to ask your father more about my father yesterday and didn’t get a chance,” she told Mary Ann. Kate had to admit to herself that if Grant was bending the truth, he wasn’t the only one. Yet she would be sure to make what she’d said true—she would ask Sam about her own father, too. Maybe it would be a first step to understanding not only Sam, but also her dad, at last.
* * *
Grant had spoken to Nadine about Paul’s carvings after the funeral. She’d told him to come by, and she’d give him first choice on the ones she was selling. She also told him Jace Miller said she could collect the one that had killed Paul.
“How about I stop by the police station and bring that back to you?” he’d asked her, so here he was, rolling the Adena carving up Nadine’s driveway in a wheelbarrow. When he’d loaded it on his truck, he’d carefully looked it over for a hiding place.
“Thanks so much, Grant,” Nadine said as she opened the garage door for him to roll the trunk into Paul’s workshop. Grant noticed the chaos had been straightened; order restored; things rearranged. Of all the places over the years Grant would picture his longtime friend, it would be here or up in the lost tree house, cut down just as prematurely as Paul had been.
“You know Kate wants to buy this,” he reminded her as he carefully tipped the wheelbarrow and slid the tree trunk to the floor where she indicated, among the others.
“She said she’d stop by soon, but I suppose she’ll need you to haul it. I’ll be glad to get it out of here,” she admitted, throwing a canvas work apron over it. He saw her shudder. “That squat, strange Adena shaman he carved always gave me the creeps anyway, like he was guarding something with a curse on it. It’s almost like it came to life and struck Paul down.”
Grant felt a chill slither up his spine, too. That was all he needed—Nadine as well as Kate obsessing that the ancient Adena could come to life and haunt humans who disturbed their resting places. In a way, that was what had killed his grandma Ada.
“Grant,” Nadine rushed on, turning toward him before he could find something comforting to say. “Paul’s death had to be either an accident or—or worse. As soon as Gabe gets back from his honeymoon, I’m going to talk to him about making a full investigation. I can’t stand being here alone at night anymore, so my sister’s coming to stay for a while—to help me get over...over Paul’s loss.”
“That’s a good idea, Nadine. I’m sure she’ll be a big help.”
Grant recalled Jace had told him Nadine refused to use the word murder, but that she thought that was what it was. And she’d been doubly upset, he’d said, when Jace checked with her sister and the gas-station attendant in town to be sure the time frame she’d given him for her whereabouts the day of the murder matched what she’d said, so that she could be ruled out of being a person of interest.
A person of interest. Nadine was that to him partly because she was battling an illness and needed support and money, partly because she might have an idea about where Paul would hide something priceless. Grant figured Paul hadn’t told Nadine about the eagle pendant or she wouldn’t be hurting for money—unless she’d promised to keep her husband’s secret, keep his precious boyhood find hidden.
“Everything all right with Paul’s will?” Grant asked. “Do you need any help with moving stuff out or cleaning the house before you sell it?”
“You Mason men are so supportive,” she said. “I’ll let you both know when I’m ready to take you up on it, because Brad’s insisted he’ll help me go through Paul’s things.”
* * *
“Your daddy was sure a handsome man, good salesman, too,” Sam Custer told Kate as she sat with him in the old farmhouse his family had lived in for years. Mary Ann still referred to this front room as the parlor. “Like all of us, he done some wrong in his days, but at heart he was a good man—a man’s man.”
Kate nodded, though she disagreed with most of that. Her father had not acted like a good man. He was a woman’s man, and not just one woman. She listened attentively to Sam’s renditions of times Dad stopped by to see him.
“Course, I understand what a tragedy it was when he left you girls. He hated hisself for that part of it, but it always takes two to tango—two to break up a marriage, too.”
She bit down the instinct to come to her mother’s defense; maybe there were things she didn’t know. Besides, she wanted to get on the subject that had really brought her here, before Sam went off on another World War II tangent.
“I found it interesting that you recalled Grant’s grandfather looking into the mound behind their house—your old hunting grounds,” she said when she finally got a word in, remembering to talk loudly. “But did you mean he just looked into information on the Adena or did he manage to actually look inside the mound?”
“Oh, sure, that’s it. Don’t think many knew. Cleared hisself out a real narrow passage in, so he said. Had to move stones, dirt, coupla fallen beams—solid, old wood, oak, he thought. Took him years to clear away the debris from that, saw the pile of it more’n once when we was after deer over there. Whatever he seen in that mound scairt him bad. You know, I swear deer was thick as mayflies round their woodlot sometimes. Shot me a big buck there right after the war, twelve pointer. Venison’s a far cry from what we ate in C-rations during the war, you know....”
Kate nodded but she was hardly listening. Grant’s grandfather had entered the mound. That meant Grant was either ignorant of that or lying to her. Talk about going to war... If the latter were true, that made Grant her enemy. And that changed all the rules.
* * *
>
“Hi, Carson,” Kate said into her phone the minute she got his voice mail. She didn’t bother to identify herself. She was sitting in Grant’s driveway, hadn’t even gone into the house, as if it might have ears.
“I need a favor—for our cause,” she said, talking fast. “I know you’re teaching a class, but when you get a chance, can you send a grad student to research something for me in the university library archives? In the stacks on Kenny Road last year, when I was home from England for Christmas, I found some mid-twentieth-century reports from this area about mound entries and finds, which were recorded by hand, of course, and filed under Falls County reports about crops, no less. I copied some stuff about the Cold Creek Mound, but maybe I missed something in there about Mason Mound. I’ve heard a rumor—even have a fairly reliable secondary witness—who says the mound might have been entered in the late thirties. So if you can—”
His recording beeped. Out of time, but she’d said what she’d needed to. She knew how much Grant had loved his grandfather, that the lost tree house had revived many memories and how much he’d love to have him back. Now Kate wished his grandfather was back, too, because she had a lot of questions.
* * *
Late that afternoon, not having heard from Carson, Kate drove to Todd and Amber’s place to see Todd demonstrate his climbing techniques.
“Brad and Grant are coming, too,” Amber told her as she let her in. “The boys and I will go along with you all. It’s good for them to hear their father’s lectures about safety now and then, but they’re much too young to go up with him. I don’t even want them standing under the tree just looking up. If something gets dropped from that height, it’s going fast and hard when it hits the ground.”
