Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  I went to his side. “Honey? What’s up with the rocks?”

  He didn’t look at me, but kept stroking them. “All of nature’s elements have spirits, Marcella. These rocks have seen thousands of years pass. That tall spruce tree, put on this earth to shade us, provides shelter for the birds and animals, to warm us when his time is over, and to sustain his species by shedding pinecones and seeds to start new colonies of the same family, is alive.

  “The river has a life. Its power sustains the fish and crayfish and bugs and birds. It has a spirit. And these rocks here have power.” He touched a pinkish stone, larger than the others, perfectly smooth and round. “This is the one. It has the most energy. Plus those two small white ones.”

  I knew he did strange things up in the woods by our antique shop with a sweat lodge. Well, strange to me. I’m sure it was all very natural to someone who’d grown up in the shadow of shamans and who had attended all kinds of Seneca holy ceremonies during his lifetime. And to be honest, I was a tad jealous of all that.

  He’d never taken me back there, and just said it might be too hard for me to understand. I now realized that we’d never visited the reservation because he felt responsible for his mother’s death.

  I didn’t want to be that woman now, the one who scoffed at things she didn’t understand. So I touched it, stroking its cool surface. “It’s beautiful.”

  He slid a shy smile toward me. “Isn’t it?”

  From his pocket, he pulled a baggie of what looked like dried herbs. “From our garden,” he said. “Mostly sage, thyme, and dill. I took them from my stock at the cabin.”

  He picked up the three stones and I followed him to the spot on the grassy knoll farther down the hill near the lake where the group had just assembled. They’d built a small fire in a miniature version of the fire pit up at the main camp. Kitty sat atop her horse, facing the moon, eyes closed, with her arms on her thighs, hands palm up. Serenity flowed from her being, and her image—so familiar, for what reason I didn’t know—felt like a universal sign for connecting with the universe.

  Roberta beckoned us closer to the fire. “Quinn, please place your stones here, near the edge of the flames.”

  Quinn lowered them reverently into the fire.

  “Thank you.” She patted Quinn’s shoulder and turned to Sky. “It’s time for your oils now. What have you chosen?”

  Sky drew out a bottle of Sacred Frankincense, and mostly for Harrison’s sake, began to extol its virtues as he had in our cabin the other day. “I want each of you to take three drops, and spread it on the back of your neck and your forehead.” He walked up to Kitty and gently touched her hand, getting her attention. “I’m going to apply it to the bottoms of her feet, too.”

  I noticed she was barefoot, and quickly slid out of my boots. “Me, too, Sky. I really want to connect with her.”

  Sky rubbed the oil in soft circles on Kitty’s feet, and then mimed the action of dropping it in her hands and rubbing it on the back of her neck and forehead. She picked up on it immediately, applied the oil, handing the bottle back to Sky.

  When we had all rubbed in the frankincense, we stood and breathed in and out for a while, hands locked in a circle beside Kitty and her horse.

  At that very moment a whistling sound grew from the forest and hills around us. There was no breeze; the air seemed quite still. I squeezed Roberta’s and Quinn’s hands, looking around me. I saw no lights or evidence of others who might have made the eerie noise.

  It came again, this time louder, followed by an undulating moaning, almost like people chanting in lovely but strange harmonies. I shivered and a chill stole over me, but no one else seemed spooked.

  “No worries, my dears. These are friendly spirits.” Roberta guided us forward, her features composed, her steps measured. “It’s time. Now, Quinn. Please place the herbs on your stones.”

  Quinn walked forward as if in a spell, scattering the pungent herbs into the fire and over the stones. Spicy smoke whirled above us, seeming to rise and lift with a shape and life of its own. A sense of cleansing stole over me, and I imagined us rinsed with purity.

  My husband began to chant in a soft voice; the words were familiar and reminded me of Kitty’s song at the riverside.

  Roberta guided me closer to Kitty, placing my hand on the pink crystal in her bracelet. Quinn came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, laying his head on my shoulder. I felt his masculine certainty, his solid comforting presence as he leaned against me and enfolded me in his arms.

  Sky stood nearby, his eyes closed and his fingers laced into the horse’s mane. He wrapped one arm around the beast’s neck and leaned against him.

  Quinn continued to softly chant, the whistling wind that-was-not-a-wind grew louder, and I felt myself begin to slip away.

  ***

  I sat in a barn, on top of a scratchy blanket on a bed of hay, peering through slats in the wall at something I did not understand.

  A woman was crying, backing away from a man. Her face raged against him, her eyes flared with fear and revulsion. She was beautiful. Long black hair, high cheekbones, full lips, strong jaw.

  Somehow I knew her. She seemed familiar. The slope of her shoulders. Her high brow.

  In a flash I knew.

  Birdie.

  I ached to go to her, but the big brute forcing his lips on hers was powerful. I knew I couldn’t stop him from hurting my friend. And who would listen to me, the girl who never spoke a word in fifteen years?

  It was late. Middle of the night. And I knew everyone on the reservation was asleep, just as I had been sleeping on my bed in the stall a few minutes earlier. But now my heart pounded like a tom-tom as I watched him force his great bulk on her. It fluttered so hard I thought it would burst from my chest. Fear raced through my veins, and I felt so powerless it seared me inside.

  He pushed Birdie up against the barn wall, ripping her shirt away from her in one cruel movement. She tried to cover her breasts, but the man roughly pulled her hands away, covering her flesh with his mouth. She cried out when he hurt her, and tears streamed from her eyes.

  NO! I screamed so loud, but no sound came out. I stood, and Birdie saw my horrified expression. Somehow I knew from her eyes and waving hands that she wanted me to hide. To stay in the dark.

  She was afraid he would do this to me, too.

  The man pulled her skirt up and yanked down her underclothes, stepping on them to get them away. He kicked them back with one booted foot, laughing with a deep sound that paralyzed me. He forced her onto the pile of hay, and amidst her sobs of pain and terror, I could only see his back, pumping up and down on top of her.

  I heard her cries. I still hear her cries in my mind. Oh, Birdie. I should have helped you. I should have done something, anything. How will I ever live with myself?

  ***

  With a whirl of sage smoke and the melodic whistling from the trees, I opened my eyes once, felt Quinn’s arms still around me, and then was drawn back into Kitty’s mind.

  ***

  I sat in my corner of the barn, trying to keep warm under the woolen blanket that scratched my arms and legs. I did not want to go into that house with him. He, who defiled and hurt my friend Birdie. He, who would do the same to anyone who challenged him.

  And yet, here he was tonight, in my barn, turning on the lights and smoking. Smoking! In a barn full of hay, straw, and horses. My blood boiled. How could he?

  A car stopped outside. Doors slammed. Footsteps approached. He walked in circles, as if nervous, but when the two men entered he greeted them like old friends, slapping their backs and guffawing.

  I watched from behind my stall wall. He counted out money on a table. Stacks and stacks of money. The bespectacled man in the gray suit put it in his briefcase, didn’t smile, and grimly shook his hand. The other man—who looked more like a prison guard than a businessman—hunkered near the door, his hand on the butt of a gun in a holster that reminded me of an old Western.

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sp; What was happening? And why was it going on in my barn?

  The answer came to me slowly. This is big. Very big. And he doesn’t want anyone to see him pay these men money. Money that must come from the reservation’s coffers. Money he had access to, money he controlled and managed.

  I slipped on my perch behind the stall wall, my faint intake of breath made a sudden noise.

  Great Spirit. Had he seen me?

  He thundered toward my hiding place, his face red with anger.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  I shrank from him, trying to avoid his clammy hands.

  “You little wench. If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

  He shook my shoulders so hard I thought they would be pulled out of joint, and his face pressed close to mine. I smelled his breath. Tobacco and onions. I thought I’d throw up.

  “You tell no one! No one! You hear me?”

  With a laugh, threw his hands in the air as if he’d discovered a gem among the horse droppings. “Wait a minute.” He kicked the straw on the floor, pacing around me, too close for comfort. “You don’t talk. Ha! You can’t talk. But if you do, I will kill every horse in this barn before I squeeze the life out of you, you worthless piece of dung.”

  I nodded to let him know I understood.

  He took my face in one huge hand and shoved my jaw to the side. “Remember your promise. Or you know what will happen.”

  I knew he would make good on his threats.

  I would never tell.

  I crawled back to my bed of straw and wept until exhaustion overtook me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I woke on the ground with Quinn’s arms around me. The damp from the grass had soaked my pants and shirtsleeves. I struggled at first, unsure of who I was or where I lay.

  Quinn hugged me close, whispering soothing words. “It’s okay, babe. Just relax now.”

  When the world came clear again, I wasn’t sure if I’d freaked out when I’d seen Kitty’s visions, or if I’d just slumped to the ground when the cosmic connection broke.

  “What happened? Is Kitty okay?” I got up on shaky legs and stared at the girl, who leaned forward on her horse’s neck, her hands clutching his white and brown mane. Tears streamed down her face and she convulsed in silent sobs. I wanted to go to her, but my aunt made it there first.

  “Honey? Are you okay?” Roberta brushed Kitty’s hair from her face and dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief she pulled from her shirtsleeve. “It’s all over now. Everything’s going to be all right. You’re safe.”

  Kitty threw her arms around Roberta, slipping from the horse’s back.

  I turned to face Quinn, whose expression had grown tight. “Did you see?” I asked.

  He loosed a big sigh, then rubbed both temples and turned away from us, looking up at the moon as if it held answers. “I can’t believe he did that to her. It’s horrible. Poor Birdie.”

  “Did you know him?” I asked.

  “Oh, I know him all right. The Seneca man in both scenes was Kitty’s stepfather. Big Fred.”

  His words generated a fresh torrent of soft weeping from Kitty. The whispery sobs that came from her were almost sadder than if she’d cried out in anguish.

  I listened for a moment, trying to get my bearings. “I felt her pain. I heard her thoughts. It’s like I was right inside her head.”

  Callie slipped an arm around my shoulders and hugged me sideways. “Then it worked, Marcie. It worked!”

  Sky scanned the black woods lining the clearing. “The whistling stopped. I have a feeling that means we’re done.”

  Roberta touched my arm. “Come. Sky’s right. It’s time to bring Kitty back to the tent. She needs rest. And you two can tell us all about it in the morning.”

  I waited for Quinn, who put the fire out with a bucket of water. He approached me, turning me toward him with both arms.

  “You know what I have to do, right?” he said.

  My insides trembled. “No.”

  He inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. “I have to go back to the rez.”

  ***

  Quinn and I stayed back behind the group, meandering in the moonlight toward camp.

  “Where did you learn those chants, Quinn? And all that stuff about the rocks?”

  He stopped and looked up at the full moon, which still illuminated the ground. “My grandfather.”

  “Really? Was he like an elder of the tribe or something?”

  I was ashamed that I hadn’t asked Quinn more about his past, although to be honest, he never had seemed to want to talk about it.

  “He was a shaman. Very respected in our tribe. He was supposed to teach me the old ways.”

  “But you left when your mom died, right?”

  “Right.” His eyes hardened. “I failed him.”

  “Your grandfather?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he still alive?”

  “No. He died shortly after I moved to New York City.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.” I put my hands on either side of his face, turning his eyes toward me. “I’m sure he loved you very much. I’m certain he understood why you had to leave.”

  Quinn sighed and his face fell. “I’m not so certain.” He gave me a half-hearted hug.

  I leaned against his chest, slipping my arms around his waist. “I am. If he was so powerful and mystical and all that, he would have known why you had to leave. He would have seen what was in your heart. Your wonderful, great big heart”

  “And why did I leave? To escape my guilt? To forget I killed my mother?”

  I looked deep into his eyes, trying to help him heal. “No, silly. So you could fall in love and marry me.”

  He relaxed after that, and he hugged me for real this time.

  ***

  Back in the tent, Roberta had her arms around Kitty, who rocked and wept in her lap. Callie knelt beside them, stroking Kitty’s hair and murmuring soft words.

  I hurried inside to join them. “Oh, no. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

  Roberta shushed me. “No. It’s all good. She needed to remember, whatever it was.” Her eyes searched mine, hungry for the truth.

  I looked at her. “Oh, right. I didn’t tell you what I saw yet, did I?”

  Callie looked at me with shining eyes. “What did you see, Marcella? Did it really work?”

  “Let’s get Kitty to sleep first. Then I’ll tell you what she showed me.”

  It took another half hour to calm the distraught girl. I used my Stress Away roll-on, an essential oil blend that always calmed me when I was upset. I rubbed it on her hands and feet until the tent filled with the fragrance of lime and vanilla.

  When she finally lay back down and closed her eyes, she uttered one small sob, and said “Birdie.” She whimpered once more and promptly fell asleep.

  Roberta and Callie’s eyes widened, but I put my finger to my lips and urged them outside.

  Chapter Twenty

  The fire still glowed as Roberta, Callie and I huddled around it. Everyone else was in their tents, and the sound of shifting horses’ hooves and the occasional lonely hoot of an owl played against the rhythmic background of the crickets and peepers.

  Callie rubbed her hands to warm them in front of the fire. “So, tell us everything, Marcie.”

  I zipped my sweatshirt and pulled up my hood. “It felt so real. I can’t begin to explain it.”

  Roberta pulled on some deerskin gloves and wrapped her silky scarf tighter around her neck. Her eyes hungered for the truth. “Try, honey.”

  The winds started to whistle through the trees again. I glanced toward the trees, wondering if the mountain was encouraging me. “It was like I actually was Kitty, experiencing scenes from inside her body. I thought her thoughts. I heard and felt everything—tactile stuff, smells, emotions. It was unbelievable.”

  Callie leaned toward me, her violet eyes sparkling in the reflection of the fire. “What scenes? Go on, Marcie.”

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sp; I leaned forward to poke at the fire with a long hickory stick. “I saw something horrible.” I set the stick aside and hugged myself, rocking back and forth for a minute.

  Callie and Roberta sat patiently by my side, murmuring comforting words.

  After a few minutes of trying to figure out how to say it without upsetting Callie, who had been sexually assaulted in college by two fierce attackers, I finally realized there was no easy way, so I just blurted it out. “I saw Birdie get raped by Kitty’s stepfather, Big Fred.”

  Callie gasped and tears formed in her eyes. “What?”

  Roberta’s mouth tightened. “My Lord, how horrible.”

  I grabbed their hands. “I know. I couldn’t believe it. Kitty was in the horse barn in the little sleeping room she’d made from an old stall, peering through the slats in the wall. She watched, grew horrified, stood up, and was warned back down by Birdie.”

  “Why?” Callie asked.

  “She thinks Birdie was afraid Fred would rape her, too, if he saw her.”

  Roberta grimaced. “My God. What a monster. No wonder she moved out into the barn, poor little chickadee.”

  Callie teared up again. “Poor Birdie. Oh my God.”

  I knew the story would upset Callie, since she’d suffered the same fate at the hands of those two thugs in college. I squeezed her fingers. “I know, honey. I know.”

  Roberta asked, “Could you tell when this happened? Was it recent, or a long ago memory?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t really know. Birdie looked like she could’ve been in her later thirties or early forties. Around my age.”

  Callie looked off into the distance, speaking in a shaky voice. “So it probably happened recently. Maybe just before Kitty ran away? Maybe that’s why she ran, he knew she saw and threatened to hurt her if she told?”

  I nodded. “Maybe.”

  Roberta slid her feet back and forth in the dirt, frowning. “Did you see anything else?”

  “There was another vision that followed the awful rape scene. Fred met with some guy in a suit, handed over a briefcase full of money, and they shook hands. It was a payoff of some kind, I think.”