We wanted to stock up on food and medical supplies at our local Wegmans or Wal-Mart, but there were plenty of places closer to Tall Pines where we’d be safer. Aside from dog food and Ruby’s assorted goodies, I hadn’t brought anything to eat.
Quinn and I hadn’t discussed the phone call yet, and I had a feeling he didn’t want to. It was driving me crazy.
Folks who know me would understand my need to know…everything. I’m not a very patient woman.
My husband kept his eyes on the road. His sleek black hair hung over his shoulders; his back was ramrod straight. He wore an old pair of sweats, a blue tee shirt, his favorite denim shirt, and moccasins with no socks, which wasn’t too practical for Tall Pines in the fall.
Good thing I’d packed for him.
I watched him. He knew what was coming, because he started to fidget a little. He reached for the radio, but I tapped the back of his hand before he could twist the knob.
“Can we talk first?”
His dark-lashed eyes darted to mine. “Okay.”
“Honey? Who do you think called us about Kitty?”
“I’m not sure.” He clicked on the cruise and set it for sixty-nine.
I would have pushed it to seventy-two in a sixty-five mile per hour zone, but that was one argument I didn’t want to have this morning. “Well, who do you still keep in contact with back there at the reservation? I never even heard of Kitty. And how did this woman have your number?”
He frowned. “I’ve had this number since before I left the rez. My mother had it. And a few relatives. And…er…friends.”
“What relatives?”
A drop of perspiration popped on his temple. I’d never seen him quite so uptight. The way he was acting made me nervous.
“My mother’s sister.”
His mother had been given a Seneca name, meaning White Dawn. “Your aunt? What’s her name?”
“Poloma. Polly, for short.”
“Your mom’s sister?”
“Right.”
“So that would make her Kitty’s mother? Is that who just called us?”
“Maybe.”
“And what friends are you talking about? From high school?” My voice was starting to get tight, the resentment creeping into my throat.
“There are a few.”
“Like who?”
His voice grew quiet. “Uh. There’s Chilam.”
“Who?”
“My old girlfriend. Chilam means snowbird. We called her Birdie.”
Ruby shrieked from the back of the van. “Pretty birdie! Pretty birdie!”
I wondered how pretty Quinn’s first “birdie” had been. “Huh. You never told me much about her.” I decided to let that go—for now—and pursued the other angle. “Okay. So somehow Kitty’s mother has your address, and you haven’t talked to her since you left the rez? But you didn’t have this address before we got married. So, how’d she get it?”
“She must’ve looked it up on the Internet. We are listed, you know.”
That stopped me. I hadn’t pictured people on the reservation having computers and Internet. Then again, my view of the whole place was probably two hundred years behind the times. I still pictured Indian villages from the movies and young men riding gorgeous painted horses. I knew it was ridiculous, but that’s how I thought of it.
He lowered the visor and squinted in the morning sun. “Least it stopped raining.”
“Don’t try to change the subject, Quinn Black Eagle Hollister. We need to figure out what’s going on. Who are the jerks chasing Kitty? What could she possibly have done, or seen, to make them want her dead?”
“Can we please talk about something else? I need to focus on the road.”
Usually calm as a lake turtle, his reaction stunned me. I rummaged in my bag and brought out my case of essential oils. I wanted to say, what do you know about this, mister? Instead, I offered him my bottle of Young Living Tranquil oil blend. “Here. Try some of this.”
I handed him the slim lavender roll-on bottle of the Young Living Tranquil blend. Without skipping a beat, he uncapped it and rolled the oil on his neck and wrists. The van filled with the scent of lavender and cedarwood. I rolled some onto my own wrists, inhaled deeply, and felt the tight muscles in my chest start to relax.
We didn’t speak for a few minutes.
Finally, he started talking in a quiet voice. “I never told you the whole truth about why I left the reservation. I didn’t tell you, because I couldn’t face the truth myself.”
“What truth, hon? What are you talking about?”
He sighed deeply. “Give me another hit of that oil, and I’ll tell you how I killed my mother.”
Chapter Five
If I’d been driving, I would have pulled over and screeched to a halt. But Quinn just kept going. Sixty-nine miles an hour. Eyes on the road. Long-fingered, slim hands on the wheel.
“What the heck are you talking about? You didn’t kill your mother, she died of heart failure.” I waited for a minute, but he didn’t speak. “Didn’t she?”
“It was my fault.”
“How could you make your mother have a heart attack?”
“It’s a long story.”
I touched his arm and he glanced at me with pain-filled eyes.
“We have a four-hour drive ahead of us, Quinn. Why don’t you just start at the beginning?”
He loosed another long, shuddering sigh. “Okay.” Reaching for his sunglasses, he steadied them on his face and readjusted his grip on the wheel. “She’d never complained about chest pains. Until I got interested in Birdie.”
Birdie again. I braced myself. “Go on.”
“When I told her I was going on a date with Birdie, she flipped out. From the very first time, she’d grab her heart and say she was going to have a heart attack if I dated that girl.”
“Why? What was wrong with Birdie?”
He shrugged. “Nothing I could see. Except she was from the wrong clan.”
“What?”
“We were in the bear clan, and she was in the deer clan. My mother had a thing against the deer clan. It was something about her mother’s father and a murder long ago. She’d never tell me the details, but her hatred of that clan seemed ferocious. She would hardly speak to them.”
“Sounds a little like Hatfield and McCoy.”
“It was worse. I started to really like Birdie. She was smart, a great dancer. She liked the books I read, enjoyed the same music. I really thought she might be the one.”
“What? When you were all of seventeen?”
“Yeah. I should have known you were out there waiting for me.” He glanced my way with a half-smile. “But I wasn’t psychic. So I kept dating her on the sly. Eventually, my mother found out. Finally, after another huge argument, I told her I was sick of her old ways, and that I would date Birdie with or without her approval.”
“Was she your first?” I asked the question as if it didn’t matter, but I really wanted to know.
“No. It never went that far.”
I sighed with relief. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I didn’t want Birdie to have been his first. “So, what happened?”
“Those last few times I took Birdie out, my mother would grip her heart and say she was going to have a heart attack. She’d moan and groan and pretend to fall down on the couch.”
“That must’ve gotten old real fast.”
“It did.”
“Oh, no. I can see it coming now. You went on a date, your mom said she had heart pain, and when you came home, she had passed. Is that it?”
“Almost. Except the night she died, we had a fight. A bad one. It was about stupid things, of course. I started in on her about the feud; she told me it was against everything she believed in for me to date Birdie. We went back and forth for an hour.” Quinn pulled out to pass a slow truck, then smoothly merged back into the travel lane. “At the end of the fight, she started to grip her heart. She fell down, and I thought she was faking it.
Again. So I left.”
My breath hitched when I pictured it. “Oh, no.”
“Yeah. I came back an hour later, feeling bad about the fight, and there she was, still on the floor, unconscious. I called the ambulance, but she never came around. She died in the hospital that night. I never got to say I was sorry. I never got to say goodbye.”
This strange picture of White Dawn was very different from the soft-spoken images of Quinn’s mother I’d cultivated in my mind. “But honey, how could you have known? It wasn’t your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have fought with her. I shouldn’t have defied her. I should have listened to her when she said her chest hurt.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You had no way of knowing it was real after all her faking. ”
“I should have. I should have known.” His mouth tightened and his gaze grew steely. We drove in silence for the next half hour.
***
By the time we neared Utica and veered northeast on Route 8, I made a call to my aunt. From experience, I knew we’d lose service in the next ten minutes. There was no cell service near Tall Pines.
Roberta Mendoza was my stepfather’s sister, proud, tall, and a true mountain woman in every sense of the word. She ran Mountain Memories, an eclectic and delightful gift shop and café in Wells, a tiny town on Route 30 in the Adirondack Park between Speculator and Northville. Roberta had been our savior several times in the past year. I had a feeling we’d need her again.
Because it was nearing lunchtime, her shop would be in full swing gearing up for locals who stopped in to sample her homemade soups and gourmet sandwiches. I took a chance and dialed, hoping she’d be able to talk for a few minutes.
“Mountain Memories, how may I help you?”
My throat tightened when I heard her warm voice. Everything about her reminded me of my recently deceased stepfather, who’d been the only dad I’d ever known and loved. “Roberta? It’s Marcella.”
“Marcella! It’s so good to hear from you, honey. How are you?”
“Um, we’re good. It’s so good to hear your voice, too, Roberta.” I tried not to let my words quaver, but they did in spite of my efforts.
“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
“Kind of.” I laughed nervously; she was so perceptive. “We’ve got someone with us who’s injured and we’re almost to Tall Pines. I was hoping you could take a look at her.”
Roberta had helped her former long-time lover with his veterinary practice for years. Between that and some volunteer stints in the local emergency service with Park Rangers, she’d assisted with plenty of medical procedures. I could almost hear her brain whirring in the background as she planned the timing of it all.
“Okay. Um. Let me see. I’ll call in my backup girl and get through the lunch rush. I’ll head down to Tall Pines after that, probably around two. Will that work?”
A sense of relief washed through me. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“All right, honey. Try not to worry.”
“I’ll try. And Roberta?”
“Yes?”
“Please don’t tell anyone about this. There are people after the girl. Really bad people.”
A long, low sigh escaped her. “Oh, Marcella. What have you gotten yourself into this time?”
I glanced back at Kitty, wondering the same thing. “It’ll be okay. We just have to be careful.”
“Okay, sweetie. See you soon.”
We hung up and I made the next call. Callie answered on the first ring.
“Marcie?” It sounded like she covered the receiver and whispered to the side. “Oh my gosh. Sky, it’s Marcie!”
My excitable best friend had moved north to be with her big brother in Speculator, where they worked hard side by side to reconstruct a research center and distillery co-owned by Young Living Essential Oils and Outsourcers, a coalition of heroic researchers and doctors. The place had been burned down last summer by thugs owned by MedicuRX, with ties to the federal government. The public outcry had been phenomenal, especially when it came out that the big drug company—in cahoots with a high-up official in the White House—had been trying to destroy all evidence of a cure for leukemia distilled from a common, pesky lake weed. Greedy for the big money in cancer drugs, they’d almost succeeded in killing everyone involved with the potential cure. Because of the scandal, donations had been pouring in, and Project Hope was well underway.
“Callie? Honey, we’re coming up. Almost there, actually.”
“What? Why didn’t you warn me? I would’ve stocked your fridge.”
“Um. It was kind of a sudden decision.”
“Marcie. What’s wrong? You sound really tired.”
She knew me even better than Roberta. My voice must’ve betrayed me again. “Um. Yeah. I was up most of the night. I’ll tell you about it later. But we’d like you and Sky to come over tonight. We could really use your help. Tell Sky to bring his oils.”
I pictured her brother, Sky Lissoneau. Tall, rugged, blond, with clear green eyes that used to send thrills down my back. He’d been my first love, and when he reappeared last summer after being MIA for eighteen years, he had taken my breath away. Although I had since resolved my feelings for him, I couldn’t help but think about him in that capacity from time to time. Of course, I kept it secret. I loved Quinn deeply, and would never hurt him.
“Okay. How about we bring supper?”
“That’d be great, honey.”
“Around six?”
“Perfect. See you soon. And don’t forget to bring Beau. Dak needs a playmate.”
She emitted a pretty, loon-like giggle. “Deal. See you soon.”
Quinn frowned at the road.
I knew why, but pretended to be surprised. “What?”
His scowl deepened. “Him again? We’re not even there, and you’re inviting him?”
I put on my best smile. “Sweetheart. He was in the war, remember? Eight years. He knows a thing or two about medicine and trauma.”
“I guess.”
“We need him, honey. And he’s got some new oils that aren’t available to the public yet. Maybe they can help us heal her.”
His frown melted and he seemed to relax. “Yeah. You’re right. Sorry, I’m still just a little jealous of your history.”
I patted his thigh. “I know, baby. It’s okay. But you know you’re the only man for me.”
He flashed a brilliant smile. In that one moment, like many in the past, I pictured him sitting bareback atop a big pinto horse, a turkey feather woven into his long black hair, his eyes gazing upon the mountainous horizon. Strong features, brave heart, pure goodness inside. That was my Quinn.
Chapter Six
When we reached our turnoff in Hope, New York, I was more than ready to get out of the van. I’d driven for the last hour. My neck was stiff, my back was sore, and I really needed to get out and stretch.
Quinn sat in the back with Kitty, stroking her forehead and holding her hand. I watched him in the rearview mirror. He was so gentle it made my heart squeeze with pride. He would have made a great father, if I’d been able to give him children.
I pushed aside the ever-present sadness that came with the whole being infertile thing. I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself right now. We were bumping along the dirt track that would bring us to my favorite place in the world.
The Tall Pines property stretched for seven acres along the broad Sacandaga River, thickly populated with pines, as you would expect from its very unoriginal name. The rustic red cabin faced the river, sitting square on its plot on a ledge overlooking the wide, shallow water and facing gentle mountains across the way. Except for one perpetually empty cabin that we could barely see, there was no one for miles.
I pulled the van into the pine needle-covered driveway and backed toward the porch. Quinn planned to carry Kitty inside, and I wanted to get as close to the door as possible.
He jumped out and guided me with his voice. “A little further. A few more inches. T
hat’s good, honey. Stop right there.”
I thought I heard Kitty say something, but it might have been wishful thinking. Was she waking up? Could the proximity of the Sacandaga have reached her spirit and started to heal her already?
I know it sounds crazy, but I really believe the river makes everything and everyone better. It restores one’s faith and health with its rushing amber currents, and its steadfast, wise presence always makes my heart sing.
I let Dak out first. He bounded around me in circles, nose to the ground, then hurried to a tree to lift his leg. He was such a good dog, I was proud of how quickly he’d been housebroken.
I unlocked the back door and turned on the electric baseboard heaters to warm the cabin, then carried Ruby in her cage into the living room and set her on her stand. I left the cover on her cage to keep her warmer, but she still fussed inside.
“You da man! Feed Ruby!”
The bird was always hungry. “Ruby, be a good girl now. Your daddy’s outside, and he’ll be in soon. Just be a good girl.”
“Pretty girl! Feed Ruby!”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, young lady. Now just hush.”
I walked back outside to find Quinn in the van fussing over Kitty, whispering in his native language and smoothing the girl’s hair from her forehead.
“Ruby’s all set,” I said.
“Good,” he said. “Hold on just a minute and you can help me slide the gurney out of the van.”
I stood in the cool fresh air, listening to the murmur of the river. It called to me, and it was all I could do to stop myself from running over to the ledge to let the soothing sounds wash over me. I ached to sit beside it and receive its comforting aura.
But not now.
I peeked inside the van. “Honey? Are you ready for me?”
I admired our new conversion van—bought especially for our antique business—and was thankful for the circumstances that had allowed us to buy it. The money hadn’t been exactly ours, but legally it had worked out, and we went right ahead and kept it.
Quinn leapt lightly to the ground. “Yep. Let’s do this.”
We carefully pulled the gurney toward us, and when it was more than halfway out, Quinn held it up while I jumped inside and pushed. When it almost tipped down to the ground, I angled it so I could get out and help him. He laid the foot of the bed on the ground, then ran up to help me with the head.
Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set Page 51
