Stolen: Mystery Suspense (Alaska Mysteries #4)

by S. C. King

  “How did your family accept your decision?”

  “With a smile... my people believe in the freedom of the spirit. Therefore, it was never their decision to make.”

  While they talked, Wood drove them through beautiful mountains and picturesque planes. The village was situated near one of the biggest Alaska rivers, and the road that led them there was long and sometimes dangerous to follow. Davis could see that the sergeant knew the way very well, and supposed that he came here often.

  The village came into view suddenly, after a particularly sharp turn of the road. It was composed of about twenty small wooden houses, all constructed around a round clearing in the middle of it. It was late in the afternoon when they arrived, and there was almost no one around to be seen.

  “It is usually like this here, peaceful and beautiful...” Wood explained, while leading the way towards the house in the middle. Davis could see that it was bigger than the rest of the others, and had a small pole rising in front of it. “This is the house of my grandmother...”

  Chapter 4

  Detective Davis followed Wood inside the house, feeling excited and a little scared of what will come next. The sergeant held the door of the living room for him, and Davis entered it to see an elderly Indian woman sitting near the window and petting a big gray wolf.

  “Welcome in my home, detective,” she greeted him with a smile. “Muraco had been telling me many good things about you.”

  Davis turned towards Wood surprised, and the young sergeant quickly explained the situation to him. “My Indian name is Muraco. It means White Moon.”

  “Oh,” Davis muttered, and turned towards the lady in the room. “I am also glad to be here, Mrs. Wood.”

  “My name is not Wood, detective. You can call me Wenona, which means First Born Daughter.” She smiled at him, and Davis prepared his excuse, but she didn’t let him speak. “Don’t worry, detective, I know that you didn’t mean to disrespect me.”

  “It is all my fault, I never asked Charlie about his family...”

  “Now you have the chance to learn everything about us, detective.” She smiled at him.

  “Unfortunately, the reasons we are here is not a good one,” the detective shook his head. “The Haida artifacts were stolen from the local museum.”

  “I was afraid of that...”

  “Grandmother,” Wood joined the conversation. “Everything that was stolen is designed to be used in a burial ceremony. They even stole the Totem Pole.”

  “Yes...”

  “Your grandson said that you can give us information about the robbery,” Davis said carefully. “Whoever stole the artifacts left no clues behind. We still have no idea how it happened.”

  “They used the animal spirits to guide them...” Wenona said seriously. “Our people know how to enter a place and leave it without being noticed. Muraco knows it too.” She added, smiling at her grandson. “You should look for recently deceased men.”

  “What?” Davis asked, still not sure about her.

  “My grandmother means that the robbers need the artifacts for a burial ceremony,” Wood explained. “Therefore, we should search for the families of recently deceased men.”

  “Why would someone steal those ancient objects? Isn’t it easier to make new ones?” Davis wondered.

  “The artifacts that were stolen are of special importance for us,” the old lady explained, shaking her white head. “There are some among us who believe that the artifacts belong here, and not in the museum.”

  “And their spiritual powers...” Wood added.

  Davis once again looked confused. He still found it hard to comprehend the way these people thought, but he could see that both Wood and his mother were taking the situation very seriously. As they continued to talk, Davis replayed the conversation in his head. They had finished talking about the artifacts by the time the night had fallen. The rest of the time, they just talked about everyday things. They had settled into an easy position, and the conversation was just the same.

  Wood was determined to impress Davis tomorrow. He was feeling like a teenager who was trying to get the popular kids in school to notice him. He wasn’t unsecure, but he also felt that their relationship should be based on more than just their work. And they had to start somewhere.

  This was the first time that Davis had visited the tribe’s sacred grounds and met with his family. Wood was aware that everything was new and unfamiliar to the detective, and wanted to make things easier for him. Even their names were different in here. His grandmother had received her name in the old days, when she was the first born daughter of the village’s chief. Her life had been a long and difficult walk, through which she had to find the middle ground between the past and the present.

  Wood was the son of her only son, and Wenona gave him his name when the little boy was born during a full moon night. Charlie knew that his grandmother was well aware of everything that happened in the clan, but he wasn’t sure if she would tell the police what she knew about the robbery. In fact, she pointed them in the right direction, but she refused to say anything else. Therefore, if the policemen wanted to know about who in the clan had someone recently deceased and most importantly, who would be willing to commit a crime in order to bury them, they needed to find the information by themselves.

  After saying their goodbyes, Davis and Wood drove most of the way home with a smile on their faces. They had really enjoyed talking with Wood’s grandmother. Davis had been sincere and interested in what Wenona had to say, even though he had sounded so undecided about her information. But he wasn’t sure what he would do or where he would go next. And he hoped and prayed that they would be able to solve the case quickly and without too many problems.

  Davis wasn’t oblivious to the things that were left unsaid, either. He only hoped that if there was something there, Wood would tell him before it was too late. The talk about animal spirits and magic abilities sounded crazy to him, but he didn’t comment on it, and let the Indians talk freely.

  Wood threw his bag in the back seat, and slid in behind the wheel. He had decided to do his police work, and forget for now his responsibilities towards his tribe. He took them to his parents’ house and offered Davis his own room. Wood’s parents were out of the village for the month, and the policemen had the whole house to themselves.

  “What are you not telling me?” Davis asked before going to bed. “I can tell that there is something that you are hiding from me.”

  “My grandmother would do anything to help us, but she cannot tell us certain things,” Wood tried to explain. “Her position in the clan prevents her from talking about the clan members, and giving them to the police. I know that it is difficult to understand, but...”

  “I understand, but I hope that you think differently?” Davis asked him, wanting to hear it from him.

  “Yes, sir, I will do my work as best as I can.” Wood looked him straight in the eyes while he spoke, and Davis believed him, despite his previous doubts.

  Chapter 5

  Wood spent most of the next morning cleaning out his old notes, and thinking about what his grandmother had said the previous night. He had complained about her speaking in riddles, but he also knew that inside all those riddles there was more information that he could possibly imagine.

  Sergeant Charlie Wood, or Muraco, was part of the Haida tribe, which meant that he knew how the tribe members thought and acted. His grandmother was the head of their clan, and that automatically gave him a few benefits. The missing artifacts, the ancient totem pole, the canoe, and a number of smaller items (Chilkat weaving and ornate jewelry, and the weapons), were part of the clan’s history, and he was ready to do anything to bring them back.

  Davis woke up to the sound of singing, and walked to the window to see two young women walking towards the river and singing together. The song sounded very unusual, but it had some beauty about it that forced Davis to stand by the window and listen to it.

  Sergeant Wood was w
aiting for him downstairs, already eating his healthy breakfast. “Good morning,” Davis said, while sitting down at the table. “Did you hear the women singing?”

  “Good morning, sir,” Wood smiled at him, and offered him a plate full of eggs, sausages and freshly baked bread. “They are singing about our belief in reincarnation. The song reminds the child about his previous life as a woman.”

  “It is interesting, but I thought that Christianity changed things in here?” Davis asked, his mouth full of eggs.

  “It did and it didn’t,” Wood offered him a cup of coffee. “Many of us became Christians, or at least adopted some of the Christians dogmas, but there are also those who never abandoned our old ways. My grandmother, for example, continues to worship the spirits of the animals, and every day prays to the Great Spirit.”

  “Tell me more about your people,” Detective Davis asked.

  “The word Haida means the person,” Wood stated. “My people lived mostly on the island near the southeastern coast of Alaska, but now we are scattered all over the U.S.A. and Canada. Our language is endangered today, because the children are not learning it anymore. Most of us learn how to hunt and fish when we are still kids. In our culture, the role of the women is to take care of the children, gather herbs and other plants, weave cloth and baskets, and look after the house. The men hunt and fish, as well as fight to protect their families.

  “The chief of the clan is always a man, but the women also have important roles as the clan’s leaders. You already saw our homes, which in the past were bigger and housed as many as fifty people. Few Haida today live in similar houses, but we still build them for ceremonial purposes.”

  “What about the poles, what do you use them for?”

  “The one that was stolen from the museum is the usual mortuary pole, used for the commemoration of high-ranking men or women. Before the body is placed inside the pole, it is cremated. But today, only few practice these ancient rituals, and we mostly bury our dead ones underground. Therefore, today, very few true Totem Poles are being made.”

  “So, if someone needs a true Mortuary Pole to place inside the remains of someone, he or she would have to steal one?”

  “Probably, and you should notice that the Mortuary Poles have a rectangular box on the top. Many, however, insist that a human corpse was never actually placed into a Pole.”

  “What do you say, Wood?” Davis asked seriously.

  “We should look for the families of the most recently dead Haida people,” Wood answered in the same tone, but avoided the detective’s eyes. “I need to ask my grandmother something... I will be back soon.”

  Wood exited the house, leaving Davis to finish his breakfast alone. The detective found himself in the house alone. He was usually careful about what he ate, so the rich breakfast was too heavy for him, but he finished it anyway. That gave him the luxury of allowing for a few extra carbs. He took advantage of that and opened a beer.

  He hated eating this way, but, he just didn’t get enough exercise to support his regular eating habits. Even with his home equipment, he often had only enough time for a basic workout. After breakfast, he walked back to the car to find his bag. Once inside, Davis shut the door behind him. He wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to be alone and enjoy his well-deserved time off. But at the same time, he felt obligated to say something to Wood to make him feel better about the whole thing. That was what came of a strong work ethic.

  He sat in the car and checked his emails. He answered what he could, and filed away what he couldn’t. He returned a few phone calls, and then checked his watch. When Davis thought it was late enough, he grabbed his jacket and his bag. As he walked to the house in the middle of the village, he noticed the sun shining above the trees. That shouldn’t have been remarkable to him. It just proved that he was working too hard.

  He checked his watch again. It was just about ten o’clock, and he knew that they were losing precious time. As if sensing his distress, Wood came out of the house and walked his way. “I know where to start,” the young man offered, and Davis simply shook his head in agreement.

  Chapter 6

  Davis watched the old Indian woman shuffle her herbs with gnarled, arthritic hands, and decided that he must have lost his mind. It was the only explanation he could think of for why he hadn’t grabbed Wood yet and dragged him out of there. Or better yet, not come at all.

  It was all his fault!

  It had been a long ride out here, so high in the mountain and away from the civilization as Davis knew it. That very morning, Wood had told him about a recently deceased man, whose children had taken him on higher grounds, where they could perform the ancient burial rites. They had followed the almost invisible path through the woods, pretending that they were not both worried, and thinking that it was better not to talk about it.

  It took them almost four hours to arrive at a clearing in the middle of the forest, where a few wooden houses were rising. There were three Totem Poles erected in the middle of it, and a few people, dressed in traditional Indian clothes were standing near them. As soon as they saw it was Wood who was approaching, everybody greeted him with a smile and a few words in their language. Davis was glad for the distraction, because it allowed him to look around and notice everyone’s reaction.

  Most of the people were men, but there were also a few women. One of them stood out of the rest, and Davis was able to observe the moment she noticed them and saw Wood. Her face showed a number of emotions, the stronger of which was anger. She was a very beautiful woman, with long black hair and a round face. Her eyes were the most remarkable pair Davis had ever seen, and her whole behavior spoke of determination and inner strength.

  The young woman approached them slowly, allowing the rest of the people to greet Wood first. Davis could see that Wood still had to notice her, but that was going to happen soon. “Hi,” she spoke in a soft, but deep voice.

  “Chenoa,” Wood exclaimed, obviously surprised to see her in here.

  Davis watched the tension spiking up between them, and immediately knew that there was history going on here. This was the first time he was seeing Wood lost for words and the beautiful woman was looking at him almost possessively. For long minutes no one spoke, but no one looked uncomfortable.

  “Detective Davis,” Wood finally broke the silence. “This is Chenoa, which means Dove...”

  “Nice to meet you,” Davis offered, smiling gently at her.

  After all the introductions were over, Wood asked Chenoa and her two brothers to speak in private. Davis had already heard something about the death of their father. The detective hated it when business and personal matters got mixed together, and here they were having just that.

  “We are investigating the robbery of a few Haida artifacts from the museum in Stronghill,” Davis let Wood explain the reason why they were in here. “Among the stolen things was a Mortuary Pole. Do you know anything about it?”

  “Why would we know about a missing Mortuary Pole?” Jacob, the biggest of the Chenoa brothers asked. “We have been up here since our father passed away.”

  “We are conducting an investigation, and according to what we found so far, the pole was stolen to be used in the traditional Haida funeral.”

  “Sorry, Charlie, but we know nothing about it,” Chenoa quickly said. “And one more thing, whoever took those artifacts didn’t steal them from the museum. No, he stole them from us, because they are part of our history and culture and should stay among us.”

  “I know how you feel about the way Haida people live today, Chenoa, but a crime was committed when the artifacts were taken from the museum.”

  The woman smiled sarcastically at his last comment, and stood up, “You can stay here the night, but you will find nothing about your case.”

  “Thank you,” Wood said, not returning the smile. “We will continue to look around anyway.”

  Without another look back, Wood headed towards the house at the end of the village, and Davis fo
llowed him. “They know something,” the sergeant muttered, when they were far enough. “Chenoa and her family have always wanted to bring back the old ways of life of the Haida people, but there are too few of us who want to go back.”

  “Where did they bury the father’s body?”

  “It is too early for the real burial. He died only one week ago. I suppose one or all of them stole the artifacts in preparation for it.”

  “Do you know where they could be hiding the pole?”

  “Maybe, I used to play in these woods as a kid, but Chenoa and her brothers rarely leave the place, so they are well ahead of me.”

  “What do you think we should do?” Davis asked, admitting to himself that Wood was his best shot at finding the missing artifacts.

  “Wait till the morning and then take a hike into the woods. No one can stop us from doing that, and we will be able to scare them and maybe force them to make a wrong step.”

  Davis agreed with him, although the whole situation was new to him. According to the law, the Indian grounds were out of his jurisdiction, but they still could arrest a criminal if they had proof of their guilt.

  Chapter 7

  Later that same night, Davis heard Sergeant Wood go out of the house, and thought that he was probably going to meet Chenoa. The older man sighed heavily, thinking that this would only complicate things, but also knowing that there is nothing he could do to stop it from happening. The tension between the two of them had been tangible when they met, and even the detective could see that there was history between them.

  Wood walked straight into Chenoa’s bedroom, and climbed into her bed. She moved against him, and turned around, “It took you long enough,” she murmured against his skin.

  “Yes…” was all Wood could say, before settling down to sleep. The situation wasn’t new to them. In the past, they used to spend many nights together, sleeping or making love, but it was all in the past…