Shadow Walker

by Tina Proffitt

  Shadow parked his pick-up truck in the driveway just as the black luxury sedan he recognized as belonging to President Bord was pulling out.

  As soon as Shadow walked through the front door dressed in his work boots, blue jeans, and white t-shirt, he knew that something was terribly wrong. Bethanie was curled up in one of the leather arm chairs with her legs tucked up beneath her chin and her arms wrapped around her legs. When she looked up at him, her cheeks and eyes glistened with tears.

  “What happened?” Shadow said, gently taking her by the shoulders. When she tried to look away, Shadow tipped her chin up with his index finger. “Look at me,” he said quietly. “What did my esteemed boss have to say to you that was so important that he made a house call?” He tried to sound lighthearted, but inside he felt murderous, protective, of his little owl girl.

  Bethanie sniffed, using the hem of her t-shirt to wipe a stray tear from her chin. She was not prepared to tell him the whole story, so she skipped over the part about President Bord making her an offer of... what? She did not know. “He said that if I'm involved with investigating the girls' disappearance,” she sniffed again, “I'll forfeit my scholarship. I'll have to leave school without graduating.” Her eyes filled with more tears. “Shadow, I'll lose everything I've worked for if I don't graduate.”

  He nodded, knowing how important her owls were to her. He knew as well that she had put all of her hopes on her one dream of moving to England to work with the owls. He cursed, scrubbing a hand down his face.

  Bethanie peered up at him expectantly.

  “He's getting nervous,” Shadow said. “It's as though he's covering up for someone. Someone he knows is guilty. I'm more convinced now that his son is responsible for those girls' disappearance.”

  “You think he knows it was his son, and that's why he's trying to keep you out of the picture?”

  “I don't just think. I know. He knows of the bad blood between me and his son. And just like he covered for his son ten years ago, he's doing it again now.” He stood up and went into his study. When he emerged moments later, he was sliding a knife in the leather sheath on his thigh. His voice was tight. “I'll be back.”

  “No,” Bethanie said desperately, latching onto his arm when he moved for the front door. “Don't leave me here alone again.”

  “Bethanie, I won't give President Bord any more reasons to harass you. I wouldn't put it past him to revoke your scholarship just to make a point. So I have to do this alone.”

  “No, Shadow. I don't care. Let him take it from me. But I'm coming with you.”

  Shadow knew that it was a lie, panic was speaking for her. But he knew there was no chance of convincing her of it at the moment. He reached for her hand, stroking it with his thumb. “Bethanie, I’m about to break into the condo belonging to the school president's son to look for evidence that will put him in jail. Poking at hornet's nests usually gets you stung. Are you prepared for that?”

  Bethanie took a deep breath. Only mere days ago, her answer would have been very different, her priorities had been so very different then. She had cared only about graduating, her owls, and her research. She had even cried when she thought about losing it all, but falling in love with Shadow had changed her. Her priorities were new and different. She did not know exactly when they had shifted, only that they had. And now, seeing this to the end, with Shadow, was all that mattered to her. She would think about the rest of her life when this was over, and she could breath again. She nodded her head, looking Shadow directly in the eyes. She had never been surer of anything in her life, except that she loved Shadow Walker. And she would do anything in the world for him. She would even go to jail.

  Chapter 10

  Shadow parked his pick-up in the pool parking lot so as to not attract attention in the gated community about ten miles outside of Ferra, Virginia. Luckily, a window at the back of the condominium was unlocked. Unfortunately, it was above the kitchen sink and required a frame as small as Bethanie's to enter it.

  “Once you're inside, go around and unlock the side door we just passed.” With both hands around her bottom, he pushed her up and into the open window until she let out a little yelp.

  “That's far enough! I'm in,” she yelled from inside the window as Shadow gave her another push. “Let me get my foot out of the sink.”

  A few seconds later, Bethanie stood face to face with a ten-point buck, hanging on the dining room wall. She swallowed hard as she opened the French doors off the kitchen that opened onto the brick patio where Shadow waited for her. “Looks like this girl wasn't the only one he was obsessed with.”

  The all-white decor of the kitchen and dining room was a stark contrast to the bizarre, ethnic art collections hanging on the walls. “A little too much of a coincidence. Don't you think?” she said, fingering the brown fur of a mythological animal mask that hung next to the china buffet. “What are the chances that two people in this town own the same mask?”

  “Not a problem as long as they’re not invited to the same party,” Shadow joked as he stuck his head in the hallway closet even though his mind was on the gravity of having his suspicions confirmed.

  “What's with all the Native American Indian decorations?” Bethanie scrunched up her face into a scowl as she stepped into the brightly lit living room with two large skylights in the vaulted ceiling. “It looks like he was either a very big fan or was a Native American in another life.”

  Shadow shook his head. “Once a Native, always a Native.”

  Bethanie did not know if he was kidding or not. She was just getting used to the idea that there was not a Hell. Live this life over again? she thought. Reincarnation was a whole other ball of wax, and one that frightened her just as much.

  “He's not exactly a fan. But you could say he's obsessed,” Shadow said. “Obsessed with hate for one Native American in particular.”

  “You?” Bethanie looked his way. “You think he still hates you after all these years?”

  “He was in love with my girlfriend years ago. And things haven't been exactly friendly between us since.”

  “I still find it hard to believe he do such a thing to you.”

  Shadow glanced her way, opening then closing the pantry doors off the kitchen when all he found was one can of tuna and a box of crackers. “He boasted to his friends that he’d been the one who planted the drugs.”

  Bethanie shook her head, feeling sorry for the young man Shadow had been.

  “What do you make of this?” Shadow indicating the near empty pantry.

  “He lives on a strict budget?”

  “Or he doesn't spend much time here.” He motioned towards the refrigerator. “That thing's completely empty.”

  “I still don't understand this thing between the two of you. Why he would hold a grudge against you so long just because he wanted your girlfriend in highschool?”

  “Time is relative,” Shadow said, eyeing her slowly as he stood up from looking underneath the couch. “Grudges can not only withstand the passage of time, but of lifetimes.”

  Goosebumps ran all over Bethanie. The way Shadow spoke made her feel as though ice were in her veins. Even though she could not comprehend the full magnitude of what he said, she felt it. Because as she suspected, deep down inside, she knew the truth.

  She followed Shadow to a set of double doors that led to the bedroom. “What is it?” she said after he opened them.

  “Burial scaffolding,” Shadow replied flatly, giving away no indication that he was surprised by what he saw. “An old practice. Mostly South West tribes, but it did spread. Keeps animals away from the body while it also places them closer to the spirit world.”

  Bethanie could not believe what she was seeing. It was definitely handmade, a structure like she had never seen before. It looked like a crude table for a giant. Standing two feet taller than Shadow and nearly twice as long. Its four corner posts were in their natural state with bark still attached and each had forked ends onto which intersecting po
les were laid across forming a four-sided frame.

  “Now, this does beg the question, doesn't it? Who or what is he going to bury?” Shadow kept from her the fact that he recognized the wood as being the cherry tree he himself had been asked to cut down just days before the girls went missing. He stepped closer to the scaffold, touching the branches that contained the telltale black spots of a tree infected by fungus. This was definitely the tree he had cut, and squatting down beside it, with his back to Bethanie.

  “What is it, Shadow?”

  “Hatchet marks. About two weeks ago, I cut this tree down,” he said, fingering the scars left in the wood from the sharp blade. “After dropping the tree on the burn pile, I came back for my hatchet but it was gone.” He knew now that he was being set up, and most importantly, that he needed help, the help of his own people.

  On Wednesday afternoon the sun was still high as Shadow parked his pick-up truck in the parking spot marked visitor in front of the municipal office building.

  He needed the help of his tribe for the first time in his life. After living cut off from them for so many years, living his life in isolation, he discovered that it was impossible. Not only were his own happiness being threatened, but everyone he cared about. Most importantly, the woman he loved. He froze as the meaning of his words sank in. Yes, he loved her.

  The tribal elder was the only man who could now help him. Inside Chris' office, speaking to his older friend, he left Bethanie's name out of the story of finding the scaffolding in the condo. He told him about the medicine man mask he had found and described the burial scaffolding that he recognized as being made from the same cherry tree he had chopped down.

  “It's my pleasure to help you, son,” Chris said in his usual calm tone, his eyes sparkling with a mix of sympathy and wisdom.

  Shadow stared down at the floor, seeing nothing of the coffee stain that stood out on the carpet. His feelings were mixed about asking for this help, but something told him it was time to move on, to allow the past to die.

  “It was difficult for you, Shadow, growing up without your father,” Chris said, understanding what Shadow could not say. “Contemptuous relationships with your fellow tribesmen didn't help any I'm afraid.”

  Chris had Shadow’s attention now. He looked briefly into the older man's eyes that saw through the barriers Shadow had worked a lifetime building to protect himself.

  “Your mother came to see me many years ago. She was afraid for you at the time. You were having such trouble at school.”

  “She never told me that she came to you for help.”

  Chris nodded.

  “And now the past is back to haunt me,” Shadow said, meaning Henry Bord Jr. as anger flashed in his voice.

  Chris' expression softened even more. “You and I will do everything in our power to stop this situation from going any further. I'm going to tell you now the same thing I told your mother back then. There is no shame in asking for help. In fact, it makes the giver as well as the receiver stronger.”

  The two of them talked for another hour, hashing out their ideas as to the best way possible to deal with the skinwalker, what moves to make next and how best to go about them. They both agreed to involve the police as little as possible, only through Shadow's contact, Bobby Blue. Before shaking Chris' hand, Shadow agreed to keep him posted daily, if not hourly, on any new developments. The two parted on friendly terms, and for the first time, Shadow felt a spirit of cooperation between himself and his people. And that filled him with a great sense of hope.

  While Shadow was away for the afternoon, Bethanie decided a quick check on her owls would be safe enough. She was full of positive energy now that they were getting so close to solving the skinwalker mystery. She wore the eagle feather in her hair, the same feather she had found in the woods with Shadow who had secured it to a leather band for her to wear as a headband. As she headed out the door, crossbow in hand for protection, a white Cadillac came bouncing up the long gravel drive towards the cabin.

  All of her brightness faded the moment she realized that it was her brother. How had he known where to find her? Then immediately the answer hit her. The letters she had written to her sister, Moriah, must have somehow found their way into his hands. They had certainly not been intended for his eyes, especially considering the details of her then burgeoning feelings for Shadow. She could not help the feeling of betrayal at the thought that her sister had sold her out. If anything, he had most likely snooped and found her letters to Moriah.

  Fear gripped her. She was sure her brother would see right through her as soon as she opened her mouth to speak. He had always had the disturbing power to unnerve her. He would know somehow that she had fallen in love with Shadow and that she was no longer a virgin, she thought. And as absurd as it sounded, she believed it.

  “Well now,” he said, stepping slowly from the luxury sedan and scanning the area as if appraising it. “Why are you dressed like that, Beth? You look like an Indian in that stupid headband.”

  “Hello, Peter,” she said, unflinching, not giving away a hint of the dread she felt.

  “Moriah said the school was shut down. And you were upset cause you had to live here. But you kinda like it here with him, don't you?” Peter looked at her with a contemptuous gleam in his eye full of accusation. “She said you were real upset,” he said, daring her to contradict him. “But you don't look very upset to me.”

  “I've got no complaints. I'm able to care for my owls from here. And if it hadn't been for Shadow, I would've had to leave all of my research behind me here.”

  “So, he's earned your gratitude.” His eyes narrowed to beady little slits, staring at her. “It that all he's earned?”

  Bethanie's face burned as his meaning struck her. All of the things she wanted to say to him stuck in her throat, humiliation preventing her from sticking up for herself.

  “He must've grown on you. Your panties ain't in a wad anymore over havin' to live with him.” Again his words struck the blow they were intended to. And there was a question implied in his statement that she knew better than to answer. “My panties in a wad?” Bethanie repeated sharply. “Is that what Moriah said?”

  He nodded. “Her words.”

  To hear that Moriah had spoken so flippantly of her feelings was a physical pain and told her that her youngest sister must have been influenced by her older siblings in her absence. She had always considered Moriah an ally, and she would give her the benefit of the doubt.

  Peter narrowed his eyes at her. “She said you were unhappy, but I don't see it.”

  “I was.” She tried not to sound as though she were trying to convince him. The two of them had never liked each other. So why did his opinion of her matter to her anyway?

  “And you're not now.” His words were a statement not a question. “Listen, you're a grown woman,” he said, stepping closer to her and dropping his voice, sounding all the more menacing, “capable of making your own mistakes. And I can't stop you.” He pointed to himself. “But I don't understand it, Bethanie. I just don't understand how you turned out this way. Mother and Daddy did everything they could to give us everything we needed.” Close enough now to strike her, he ground out each word. “I don't like it. You're throwing it all back in Momma's face.”

  Bethanie shook her head at him, unable to speak. As he stared at the feather decorating the back of her head, she could see very well that this situation was eating him up. He was angry that she had flown the nest, that he could not exert his power over her the way he did her siblings. She would not give him any more ammunition to use against her, so she kept her mouth shut.

  “You were always an ingrate,” he hissed.

  She stepped back away from him, bowing her head as a single tear ran down her cheek despite her determination no to let him get to her.

  “You're tearing the family apart!” he screamed. “What's left of it anyway since you turned in your own mother.” He dropped his voice now, sounding almost rational. “Tha
t's why I'm here. To offer you a ride home. I don't want to see anymore harm come to the rest of my family. And if you do decide to come back home with me, you'll be welcome. As long as you first apologize to my congregation for becoming a stumbling block.”

  Inside Bethanie recoiled at his repeated insult. She felt ready to strike. All the years of wishing for her family's acceptance, hoping that just once she would receive a simple birthday card in the mail; all that time had finally come to a head. “I'll never come home with you!” she railed, fists clenched by her side. “There's nothing you could ever say to make me want to either! You've hated me. You've treated me like the lowest form of scum. And now, you want to humiliate me some more in front of all of our friends? No way!”

  His face contorted with rage at her daring. “You're nothin' but an ungrateful whore!” he snarled, grabbing her by her chin, his fingers pressing hard into her cheeks. The smell of car grease from his hands filled her nostrils, and she quickly twisted away from him as horrible memories came back to her. That smell. She recognized it from the night their father was killed. The engine grease. It had been on his hands, not her father's. The memory flooded back to her at once. She saw herself lying in bed, alone in her room.

  Peter's voice broke into her mind, barely penetrating her ears over the sound of her own heart beating.