“Well, I’ve had enough sun for the day.” With her book and towel under one arm, Jessica headed into the cabin. Still shaken, she half expected the crazy witch to come charging through the front door.
* * *
“What the hell were you thinking, Eric?” Kyle shook his head in disgust as he drove the country road toward the reservation.
His brother sat in the passenger seat, holding a blood-soaked T-shirt to his battered face. “She seduced me. I was minding my own business.”
“It’s bad enough that you cheat on business trips. But you’re on vacation with her. Jesus!”
“Don’t mention this,” Eric pleaded. “It was a slip. It won’t happen again.”
“Just show her some respect.” He hated that Eric was cheating, but Kyle also honored the guy code: You don’t rat on your brother or your friends, no matter what stupid shit they get themselves into.
Up ahead, a gray Buick was speeding toward them. The woman driver honked as they passed.
“That was Wynona.” In his rearview mirror he saw her brake lights brighten. Her car screeched to a halt. Kyle stopped and hit reverse, backing down the road.
Wynona climbed out of her car, marching toward him, waving her hands. “Kyle!”
He jumped out and met up with her in the middle of the road. She was crying and stuttering, unable to get any words out.
He gripped her forearms. “Wynona, calm down. What is it?”
“You’re…all in danger…the demons are coming for you.”
“What?”
She pointed to the sky. “They warned me…you should leave.” Her breath stank of liquor.
“You’re not making any sense.”
“I have to get home.” She ripped loose, stumbling back to her car. “Leave, Kyle. Get far away from here.” She climbed into her car and tore down the road toward Hagen’s Cove.
* * *
Inspector Sam Zano felt the acids roiling in his stomach as he climbed out of his SUV and walked to where four Mounties stood examining the ground around a camper. The motor home that had belonged to Detective Carl Hanson lay on its side like a large slain animal. All the windows had been shattered and the roof was scratched up.
Zano peered into the camper through a missing skylight. White stuffing from a shredded mattress covered everything like dandelion. Pots and pans and clothing were scattered everywhere.
The inspector sighed. “Bjorn, what’s the report?”
The Mountie who had been first on the scene flipped open his notepad. “Sir, it appears that Carl Hanson and his daughter, Lindsey, were attacked sometime last night. We’ve found plenty of blood but no bodies. Just a man’s severed arm.”
Zano nodded. “Show me.”
The site of the attack was about fifty meters down the road at a campsite by the lake. A couple of Mounties stood near a large patch of crimson grass at the base of a tree that looked as if someone had splattered dark red paint on the bark. High above their heads some of the branches were broken. A piece of torn clothing clung to the pine needles.
“Somebody climb up there and get that,” Zano ordered.
“Inspector, we found this in the bushes near the water.” One of the men held up a baggie that contained Carl’s arm. By the deep scratches on the arm it was clear this had been an attack by a large predator. And Inspector Zano, having lived around Lake Akwâkopiy all his life, had a pretty good idea what that was. He got his confirmation when he saw what the thing had left behind in the ashes of the campfire—a monstrous footprint with pointed lines that speared from each toe print.
Shaking his head, Zano popped a few Tums into his mouth. “All right, men, let’s get to work.”
* * *
“I have to get out of this godforsaken town,” Wynona said as she drove down her driveway. On the frantic ride home, she’d come up with a plan of escape. First, fix a double brandy to calm her nerves. Next, pack clothes and her .38 Special. She hated guns, but she might need it. Her tank had plenty of gas, so she could drive right out of here, not stopping to say goodbye to anyone, leaving Hagen’s Cove and all its horrible memories behind her.
Wynona parked beside the hearse and left the engine running. She hurried past the caskets in the funeral parlor, past the mortuary, and walked the long hallway to the living quarters behind the funeral home. Dozens of black-and-white photos of lumberjacks and elders lined the walls. Their eyes followed Wynona as if they knew she was about to betray the town. She headed straight for the liquor cabinet, turned on the lamp, poured a heavy dose of Napoleon brandy into her flask, then took several large gulps. Turning around, she dropped the flask and yelped.
Hugo was leaning against a wall in the kitchen. “Hello, Mother. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Several men entered the room. All of them she’d known for thirty years. On the couch sat Mayor Thorpe, his hand patting the armrest. “We were wondering when you’d get home.”
“I…uh…” Wynona glanced toward the back door.
Mayor Thorpe stood. “Hugo says you’ve been gone all day.”
Her mind raced. “I-I was feeling under the weather, so I went for a drive.” She tried to smile. “I feel much better now.”
“Well, I don’t want to take any chances on you falling ill. I’m giving Hugo the evening off, so he can take care of you.”
Her son grinned. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight, Mother.”
Wynona faked a smile. “That really isn’t necessary. I feel okay, really. You need to earn your money.”
“I’m letting him stay on the clock,” the mayor said. “It’s important that my head mortician keep in good health. Call it insurance.”
The group of men chuckled.
Mayor Thorpe gave her a stern look. “We want you to sleep well tonight. Doc has brought a tranquilizer to help you relax.”
The old doctor held up a syringe. He moved toward her, needle stabbing the air, yellow liquid squirting upward.
Wynona made a break for the back door. Hugo cut her off and pinned her against the wall, while Doc jammed the needle into her arm.
The faces of all the men went fuzzy.
She felt them lifting her, carrying her down the hallway like pallbearers. They’re going to cremate me in the oven. Make me disappear. Wynona panicked, giving the men one last fight, but then the drug took over, pulling down a drape of shadows over her awareness, their ominous voices her last sounds as she escaped into darkness.
Part Five
Lust and Lucidity
I felt guilty for desiring her, this new woman in my life. Part of me felt like it was time to move on, that I was young and could still create a happy life with someone. But an angry voice spoke cold whispers in my head, “You deserve no such happiness.” And that’s when my late wife’s ghost started haunting me.
—Detective Winterbone
Chapter Fourteen
At twilight, the forest began to turn gray as the sun dipped behind the mountains. On the back porch Jessica swabbed a cut above Eric’s swollen eye. He sat in a chair with his shirt off. She frowned at the bruises that covered his face and upper body. He looked like a boxer who had taken a beating for twelve rounds.
“How did this happen?” Jessica asked.
“Kyle dropped me off at the tavern to have a drink. I was just sitting at the bar, minding my own business, when a couple of lumberjacks picked a fight with me. It hurts like fucking hell.”
“I’m sorry, love. I should have gone with you today.”
“I wish you had. This might not have happened.” He gave her his wounded puppy face.
“Are you feeling neglected?”
“I’m wondering where my girlfriend went. The last couple of days you’ve been a different person.”
“I’m sorry.” Jessica stroked his hair. “Next time I’ll go with you.”
“Tonight the others are going off to do a ceremony with Ray and Grandfather.” Eric rubbed her leg. “I thought maybe you and I’d hang back here.
I’ve got a surprise for you that I think you’re going to like.”
* * *
Kyle and Shawna followed Ray Roamingbear down the road that wound through the Cree village. Tonight they were going to receive the gift that Ray had promised them before coming on the trip. Whatever their elders had in store, it required them bringing backpacks and bedrolls for a sleepover.
“Are we camping out in the woods?” Shawna asked.
Ray grinned. “You’ll see.”
A continuous pum-pum-pum of drumbeats echoed in the distance.
The wind made the vacated cabins creak. A large bird that might have been an owl flew into a hole in one of the rooftops. The stars were visible tonight, which made Kyle imagine Jessica on the balcony looking through her telescope. He hated that she would probably be stargazing with Eric tonight. The moon was full again, a bright cratered face reflecting silvery-blue light onto the surrounding forest. The silhouetted pines seemed to watch him as he walked. Kyle tightened his grip on the straps of his backpack. He hoped Ray wasn’t taking them into the woods.
At the center of the village, they entered a long rectangular building called the Great House. It was made up of one large room where the tribe used to gather for meetings, talk story and celebrations. The community building felt hollow now without all the tables and chairs and other tribe members. Several windows were broken and sections of the roof were missing, letting in scattered moonbeams. A gray gloom shrouded most of the room, except for the center, where a campfire glowed in a circular pit. Smoke billowed up to an opening in the ceiling.
Grandfather Two Hawks was seated on the floor, beating a tom-tom and singing an ancient Cree song. The old chief wore a headband full of colorful feathers. In front of him was a rabbit-fur blanket topped with numerous ceremonial objects: bowls of herbs, fur pouches, a crow’s wing and a small animal skull. An oyster shell of smoking incense filled the sacred area with the scent of burning sage.
Kyle and Shawna sat down with their elders and placed tobacco offerings in a bowl.
Ray joined in on the drumming and singing.
Kyle had forgotten how much he used to enjoy the tribe’s drum circles. As children they had danced around a campfire while the grownups drummed and sang. Afterward, Grandfather told stories that held all the children captivated. Those nights were always filled with the smells of tobacco and barbecued meat and corn cobs cooking on a grill. In one memory he saw himself and Eric as innocent boys not yet jaded by life and loss…Shawna as a toddler in diapers crawling around and playing with bugs…Elkheart sitting with his arms around their mother, moving with the music—happier times that were long gone.
Tonight, Grandfather sang with a mix of fiery passion and haunting sadness. The drumming and singing rose to a crescendo then abruptly stopped. The Great House fell silent except for the sounds of insects chirping in the forest. The flames flickered in Grandfather’s thick glasses. Kyle and Shawna watched as the old medicine man spoke in Cree.
Ray translated. “The ceremonies of our people are becoming lost. It is up to younger generations to carry on our traditions or our culture will die out.”
Grandfather directed his piercing stare toward the two initiates, speaking with a power that Kyle felt resonating in his chest.
“Kyle, Shawna,” Ray said, looking at both of them intently. “You two and Eric are the last descendants of the Lake Akwâkopiy Cree Band. Grandfather hopes that you will take an interest in your heritage and keep our traditions alive. He has much to teach. Since you all grew up in the city, you missed out on the opportunity to do a rite of passage from childhood into adulthood. Tonight we offer you a chance to do a vision quest to connect with our ancestors and the power of Kisemanito, Great Spirit.” Ray put his hands on his knees, smiling. “I did my first vision quest with your father when I turned sixteen. It was a pivotal moment. I’ve done several since.”
Kyle felt a surge of adrenaline, unsure of what trials they were going to put him through.
Grandfather picked up two halves of a peace pipe adorned with feathers and held them above his head.
Ray said, “The sacred pipe symbolizes the joining of the masculine and feminine energies. It is only when these two parts of ourselves are bonded that we are whole.”
Speaking another blessing, Grandfather joined the two halves of the pipe. He tapped one end of it on an animal skull then circled the pipe over his head.
Ray said, “We call in the spirits of the four directions.”
Grandfather stuffed tobacco into the buffalo head bowl, lit a flame over it, and puffed. The tobacco glowed orange and gray tendrils drifted up toward the ceiling. He said something in Cree.
Ray translated, “The smoke represents our prayers that we send to the spirit world. So as the pipe comes around be thinking about an issue you’d like to give away and a dream you’d like to manifest. Call on the guidance of Great Spirit.”
Grandfather drew on the pipe, blew out circular rings, then passed it to Ray. As the pipe made its way around the circle, Kyle tried to think of something to wish for. He had all the money he could ever want, a successful career, good health, yet for the past two years he had felt hollow, lonely and depressed. His most intimate relationship had been with his shrink. What could he wish for that could bring joy back to his life? When Shawna’s turn was done, Kyle held the pipe to his chest and closed his eyes.
Great Spirit, what I give away is my loneliness and depression. What I wish for is to be able to love a woman again. If not Jessica, then someone just as special.
He inhaled the tobacco-flavored smoke, felt his throat tingle and then blew it back out. As Kyle thought of his third wish, he was struck with a pang of guilt, remembering the pact he had made with himself at his wife’s grave. And now as the smoke swirled above, he thought it formed into her angry face.
* * *
Up in the loft, Eric lay on the air mattress with an icepack on his face. Tonight wasn’t going as good as he’d hoped. He hadn’t planned on being in so much pain. He felt jealous that his brother and sister were receiving their gift without him, but then decided with Kyle away for the night, maybe this was a blessing in disguise.
Jessica came upstairs with a glass of water and some vitamin capsules. “Here, take some Valerian root. This’ll help you sleep.”
Eric sat up halfway and she put the herbal capsules into his mouth and tilted the glass of water for him to sip. “Thanks.” He had more strength than he let on, but he loved it when she nursed him. He sank back into the mattress. She turned off the lamp.
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” she asked.
“I’d love one of your famous foot massages.”
“Coming right up.” She lit a lavender candle and turned on some soft music. She got on her knees the way Eric liked and began rubbing his feet. “How does that feel?”
“Good, babe. Keep doing what you’re doing.”
Eric thought of the strange turn of events that had gotten his face and stomach beaten. He felt like an idiot for allowing that redheaded slut to seduce him. Kissing Celeste Thorpe had been stupid and reckless. If there was a way to erase his mistake he would, but his brief infidelity was in the past and as long as Kyle kept his mouth shut, Jessica never had to know about it.
Despite the attention Eric was getting on his feet, Jessica still seemed distant, which made her a challenge suddenly.
“Babe, you’re making me horny.” He patted his hips. “Climb on top.”
Jessica laughed. “You’re in no condition for that tonight. Your lips are so swollen I can’t even kiss you.”
“The lower half of my body still works. See?” He pointed to the bulge in his boxers.
“Maybe tomorrow. Besides, Zack’s downstairs.”
Eric sighed. He had to come up with a better plan. Jessica was in a volatile place and Eric didn’t want to lose her to Kyle. “Hey, can you bring me my duffle bag?”
“Sure.” She brought it over and set it on the b
ed beside him.
“I know it’s not our anniversary until tomorrow, but I wanted to go ahead and give you this.” He pulled out a small white box with a red ribbon.
She lit up. “You got me a present?”
“Of course. I know how much our anniversary means to you.”
The Devil's Woods Page 20
