Authors: Maggie Toussaint
Proud and noble. Sincere in her beliefs. I wished I had the same self-assurance.
I’d been a rebellious daughter and a compliant wife, and now I was a single mother adrift in the world. I didn’t feel proud or noble. I was embarrassed this situation had escalated out of control, upset that a friend of my parents was in jail, mortified that I was here watching the show.
This situation was wrong on so many levels. Charlotte wanted to know who was lying. I was. Jack Soaring Eagle was. The sheriff’s office was. The Ice Queen was. A better question might be who wasn’t lying.
Gentle Dove touched my arm. “Come. He needs you.”
Her words and her touch were infused with urgency, but I resisted the call. Stepping forward would put me on a collision course with Carolina Byrd, who I hoped would come to her senses once this was over and pay me. Stepping forward would parade my extrasensory differences before the Ice Queen once again. She already thought I was a cross between a lab rat and a party trick.
The wind gusted again. Poster boards sailed through the air, and Gentle Dove caught one in the head. The poster flipped over, upended my hat, and flapped across the parking lot.
As suddenly as it started, the gust ceased. In the unnatural silence that followed, Gentle Dove reverently touched my brand-new shock of white hair. “It is as he foretold.”
Charlotte snapped our picture. Too late, my hand shot up to block the shot. “If you print that, you are a dead woman.”
“Lying,” she said.
People stared at me. Their rapt fascination angered me. “Haven’t you ever had a bad hair day?” I yelled.
The imports paid me no heed, but the locals nudged each other and murmured. I cringed and felt a queasy sense of déjà vu. This was my childhood all over again. Those murmurs reminded me of the voices always hovering at the edges of my mind, voices that never dialed in clearly.
“Will you come with me?” Gentle Dove asked.
Going into the jail was not high on my list of priorities, but getting away from all those stares held great appeal. I nodded, then glanced over at my friend.
“Don’t mind me, y’all,” Charlotte said. “I’m going to hang out here until the news cameras show up.”
Gentle Dove linked arms with me, and we walked back up the sidewalk. Jack Soaring Eagle moved aside to let us pass. Questions burned in his eyes, but he didn’t ask them. I didn’t volunteer any answers.
The soda machine hummed, and the plastic chairs looked deserted in the lobby. Tamika buzzed us in.
“Hey, Baxley,” the dispatcher said. “Long time no see. Got a new doo going on?”
“Tamika.” I managed a curt nod. I’d never been much to chat about my hair with anyone, but I sensed that something was needed. “Bad hair day.”
Comprehension filled her eyes. “My cousin can take care of that for you. She’s a dying fool and can match any hair color.”
“Thanks.” I smiled as if I’d never considered dying my hair before. “I might take her up on that.”
Gentle Dove gave me an odd look, but before she said anything, the Ice Queen and the sheriff intercepted us.
“A word.” The sheriff marched me into his office. After he closed the door, he touched my hair. “New look, babe?”
I brushed his hand away. “Why am I here?”
“Running Wolf asked for you.” Wayne stopped and frowned. “Actually, he asked for the spiritwalker and sent his wife out to find whoever that was. What’s the deal?”
“The deal is Gentle Dove asked me to come in here with her. I don’t know why she singled me out.”
Wayne studied me. His eyes kept going back to my white shock of hair. “You sure about that?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Could this conversation get any more inane?
“Here’s the thing. We haven’t released the race of the first bodies you found. Gail wants to have the names and ethnicity of the people before we go public with that. I don’t want you to mention race to Running Wolf.”
“You could diffuse the mess outside if you went public with the information. Why the secrecy? It’s too late to keep this secret. I already told Charlotte.”
He got in my face. “Why the hell did you do that?”
“Because I didn’t want her to write some big sappy piece in the paper that would incite people to stand up and take notice. But I was too late to stop this circus. We should have come clean from the start.”
“That was my call. Just as this one is. If you want to work as a consultant for me, you will do as I say.”
Hope warred with my headache. “I still have a chance at a consultant’s job? Does this mean I’m not a murder suspect?”
“If it turns out you didn’t murder anyone, I’ll use you.” He stepped closer. “I’d love to use you.”
The trouble with Wayne was that he couldn’t dial back the testosterone. Working with him would be an ongoing struggle. “Knock it off.”
His eyebrows waggled. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Yes, I can. As sheriff, you have a responsibility to uphold.”
“As sheriff I get to make the rules.”
“What century are you living in?”
His voice roughened. “You never should have left. Roland had no business spiriting you away from here.”
I huffed out a breath of air. “I wouldn’t change my past for anything. But I am hoping to improve my future economic outlook. Are you going to act like a grown-up or an oversexed teen?”
Wayne maintained silence for a few agonizing beats. In that time I was sure I’d stepped over the invisible line of power of his office.
“Message received,” he said.
I allowed myself another lungful of air.
He nodded toward the door. “You can talk with Running Wolf in the interrogation room. We’ll be listening.”
Oh goodie.
When I entered the interrogation room, Running Wolf, aka Bob Brown, started with recognition. Was he expecting my father? His gaze sharpened as he studied me, snagging on my white forelock. He rose, his hands cuffed before him.
My heart went out to this humble man. What was Wayne thinking to handcuff him? Running Wolf was probably embarrassed and humiliated. I walked to the side of the wooden table. “You sent for me?”
He reached up and awkwardly stroked the white stripe in my hair. “It is true? You are the spiritwalker now?”
I stepped back, motioned him back to his seat, and sat in the molded plastic chair across from him. “I’m
a
spiritwalker, and yes, I’m stepping into Daddy’s shoes. I wouldn’t say I am
the
spiritwalker. What can I do for you?”
“I need a voice in the spirit world,” he said solemnly.
My heart skipped a beat. My first dreamwalker request. Adrenaline surged in my veins, as did a generous shot of unease. I folded my hands on the table. “Tell me more.”
“There’s a woman in my dreams. She comes to me each night, but I only see her face. I need a go-between to communicate with her.”
Curious, I leaned forward. “Do you know her? What does she look like?”
“She is beautiful, but sad. She’s one of my people, but she isn’t.”
“Huh?”
“Can you help me?”
“Now?” I shivered. Dread danced across my nerves at the thought of performing for an audience. I was barely okay with dreamwalking in private. What should I do?
“Yes, now,” he said. “I need to ask her name; then we can help her find peace.”
What would Daddy do? Would he ask his friend to wait until it was convenient? No way. Daddy would help Running Wolf as soon as he asked, to help ease the man’s mind. Still. I wasn’t as skilled as my father. What if I screwed up?
I glanced around the small room, trying not to look at Running Wolf. “I don’t know if I can do it here. I haven’t had much experience with unassisted dreamwalks.”
He regarded me steadily, his dark eyes boring into my soul. “Not to worry. I can help you access the portal, but I can’t hear the voices.”
I shot another look at the mirror, knowing that the sheriff was there, wondering if Gail Bergeron was out there dissecting my behavior. The door didn’t open. It looked like everyone expected me to dreamwalk. I drew in a deep, centering breath.
“Okay.” I took off my moldavite necklace, removed the amethyst from my pocket. I placed them on the table off to the side.
Running Wolf covered my hand in his, the rough calluses of his work-thickened palms grazing my knuckles. I breathed in deeper, slower; I listened to the quiet of the room. When the moment presented itself, I crossed into the other world, Running Wolf at my side.
I shot him a happy grin, did a little pirouette on tiptoes. “That was great. I don’t even feel disoriented. It’s never been so smooth before.”
His smile was bittersweet. “We all have our gifts. I’m able to enter the portal easily. I have assisted your father on many spiritwalks.”
His voice sounded different. Older. Generations older. His Native American garb looked more rustic, less commercially perfect. His arms hung freely at his sides. I glanced down at my clothing. I had on a white cassock-like thing a priest might wear. A knotted rope snugged the outfit to my waist.
I held my hand in front of my face. It was both solid and an illusion. Interesting. Running Wolf took my arm and guided me down a narrow, dimly lit passageway. He paused before a closed door. We passed through the barrier as if it weren’t there.
Inside was a nighttime scene, a blazing campfire, several teepees, and a sky chock full of twinkling stars. I spun in a circle feeling so free, so uninhibited. Running Wolf sat cross-legged by the fire and motioned me over.
I heard a haunting melody, a hummed tune that seemed ageless and familiar. A lullaby perhaps. A mother with an infant emerged from a teepee. The woman’s long black hair was braided into two plaits, her cheekbones high and proud. With her gaze fixed on the baby, I couldn’t see her eyes, but I assumed they were dark brown. The drowsy babe in her arms was tiny, no more than a few months old.
Could Running Wolf hear the music through me?
The answer came into my thoughts at once, “Yes.”
I shot him another question. “Is this the woman you seek?”
“Yes. She is deeply troubled.”
“How should we approach her?”
“We wait. She comes to us.”
Sure enough the woman and baby circled the fire, the woman’s hips gently swaying to her music, the child’s eyes drifting shut. She looked younger than me. Something about her was familiar, but I couldn’t place her.
Running Wolf spoke through me, “Daughter.”
She faced Running Wolf. “Yes?”
“I brought the spiritwalker. How can we ease your mind?”
“My baby.” She cradled the babe close to her chest. “She knows about the baby. My son isn’t safe.”
“Who knows?” I asked.
The woman peered into the licking flames of the fire. “The evil one.”
I shivered at the hard edge to her voice. The evil one was not a nice person. “You want us to protect the baby? Where is it?”
“The child is with my mother. But they aren’t safe.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “What are we supposed to do?”
“Save my baby. Don’t let the evil one get her.”
My companion stirred. “Daughter, your name?”
Her gaze connected with Running Wolf. “I am called Angel.”
I blinked in recognition. “Wait. Angel? Are you the woman from my dreams?”
Before my eyes, the scene changed from campfire to mussed boudoir. Running Wolf stood at my side. Angel morphed from chaste Indian maiden to grieving sex kitten.
I recognized this scene from my dreams. Angel was the same woman who grieved for her lost lover. I searched my memory for details. “Is this about Jay? Is the babe Jay’s child?”
She nodded, her gaze glassy, sobs in her throat. “He made me so happy. He was going to leave her. But his death changed everything. I lost my place and my job, and I almost lost the babe.”
“But the baby is with your mother?” I asked.
The spirit woman wavered. “My son is in trouble. The evil one has found him.”
“Where is your mother? What’s her name?”
“Alabama. Mother lives in Alabama.”
She started fading. “Wait!” I stepped toward the woman with the unusual violet eyes. “What’s her name?”
“Dyani.”
I shot a worried glance at Running Wolf as she faded. He shrugged. “She’s gone, and we must return.” With that, he guided me back through the portal.
Awareness of my body gradually returned, as did the musty smell of the jailhouse. Energy thrummed through me, and for once I didn’t have an after-burn headache. I blinked against the bright fluorescent lights and stretched my arms. “That was wild. Your dream woman walks through my dreams, too.”
He nodded. “It is often that way.”
I jumped to my feet and paced the small room. “What now?”
“Now you find Little Deer.”
I paused, holding onto the back of the plastic chair. “You lost me.”
“The woman in Alabama, Dyani. Her name means Little Deer in our language.”
“And she’s important because— ?”
Running Wolf clasped his handcuffed hands together on the table. “Because Angel came to us in this place and time.”
“Is she related to the graves at Mallow?”
“The wheels of fate continue to turn.”
Puzzling. Enigmatic. Absolutely no help at all.
The sheriff and the Ice Queen nabbed me as I stepped into the corridor. Somehow I’d known Gail wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to see me in action. I didn’t know what she planned to do about me, but her interest couldn’t be good for my anonymity in the long run.
“Well?” Wayne stepped in front of me, blocking my way. “What did you learn? What was that part about Diane in Alabama?”
With my senses still jacked up, his woodsy cologne took my breath away. Gail’s fake smile seemed twice as brittle as usual. I backed up so that I wouldn’t inadvertently come in contact with either one of them in the tiled corridor. Fluorescent lights hummed loudly in the suspended ceiling overhead.
My fingers closed around the amethyst in my pocket. I took a deep breath. “We encountered a Native American woman, about my age. She wants us to contact her mother regarding her child.”
“A young Native American woman?” Gail’s voice carried a sharp edge.