Whispering Spirits (25 page)

Read Whispering Spirits Online

Authors: Rita Karnopp

Tags: #suspense, #mystery, #paranormal, #native american, #montana, #ancestors, #blackfeet, #books we love, #rita karnopp, #spirit visits

“No, I don’t. Joshua said he was at the mine
and I believe him. Whoever it is…has been here for a while.” He
flipped the switch and the entire porch light up.

The background drum beats increased and
became louder and louder. Summer rushed forward grabbed his arm.
“We need to get out of here now!” She opened the porch door and
they ran, reaching the back side of the car before the entire front
of the house exploded. The thunderous blast shook the ground,
sending them both sprawling.

“You’ve got to be flipping kidding me!”
Running Crane shouted above the horrendous noise of cracking wood
and fire engulfing Summer’s childhood home.

She flicked the tear from her cheek with the
back of her hand. Everything was burning…all their pictures,
mementos, childhood keepsakes, and all her native dancing clothes
and…she stopped…they were only things. What about the body the fire
would destroy? Was it
Inn
?
Nah’ah
? Bradley?

“We need to get out of here. Someone must
have called the fire station already, I hear the sirens.” Running
Crane opened the car door. “Wait, is that your dad’s car parked
over by that shed?”

“Yes, why?” Summer looked over at her dad’s
beloved red 1960 Pontiac GTO.

“That the car the two of you came back from
Missoula in?”

“Again, yes, why?” She nearly ran to keep up
with him as he headed toward the vehicle.

“Maybe your dad didn’t unload all your
stuff.”

“I guess it’s worth checking. I’m sure he’s
pretty ticked about that bullet chip in the windshield.” She hoped
the idle chatter would take her mind off the fire and the
encroaching vehicles.

“You check the front and I’ll check the back,
then let’s get the hell out of here. We stay too long and we’ll be
here hours answering questions. We just don’t have time for
it.”

Running Crane had a point. She felt under the
front seat and found nothing but a CD by Carrie Underwood. “Nothing
up front,” she said, then slammed the door shut.

“But look what we have here. A box with
pictures and such. Here’s your study lamp and a couple of blankets.
That’s it except for this box of shoes stuffed behind the driver’s
seat.” Running Crane pulled hard and set the box on the back seat.
“Well look what’s sandwiched under that box.” He lifted a black
duffle bag.

“That’s Jordan’s work-out bag,” she said.
“Grab it and let’s get out of here.” They ran to the car. Running
Crane spun gravel out in all directions as he raced down the dirt
road, heading in the opposite direction of the fire and police.

She waited only seconds before digging
through the bag. “Shoes, socks, gym shorts and jersey,” she said
before dropping them on the floorboard. “Towel, head and wrist
bands,” she said dropping them on top the already growing pile by
her feet. “Racket and a couple of balls, deodorant and
cologne.”

“Are there any side zippers?” Running Crane
asked.

She moved her palm across first one side,
then other. “Yep.” She pulled on the zipper and reached inside.
“Gum, sun glasses, and…a package of condoms. Nice. That’s it…wait,
there’s a zipper inside the zipper, she quickly opened it.”

“Well?”

She didn’t miss the impatience in his tone.
“It’s a key.”

“Anything on it?”

She popped on the overhead light and looked
it over. “It has twenty-four written on it, which is…was his lucky
number.”

“I’ll bet that’s his locker at the gym. Is
that everything…the bag’s empty?”

“Well, it’s empty but it still feels a little
heavy.” She felt all over the inside and it truly was empty. She
turned it over and examined the bottom, then upper rim and spotted
another zipper that had been cleverly disguised as rubber base. “I
think…wait a minute.” She located the inner zipper and slowly
unzipped it. In her lap lay Jordan’s laptop computer.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“I’d say yes, except it’s too light to be his
laptop. Could he have taken the guts out of it so he had a tight,
secure place to hid those papers? We need one of those tiny screw
drivers those IT guys use.”

“We’ll get some gas and I’ll pick up an
emergency eye glass kit. They always have those small screw
drivers.”

“Good idea.” She held the computer shell on
her lap as though it might break.

Silence fell as Running Crane took the back
streets to the outskirts of Browning. Her thoughts lingered on the
fire; worrying about everything her father owned going up in smoke
and uneasy over whose body was on that porch. Would the fireman
find the remains and attempt to blame his or her death on her
father?

Running Crane stopped at the last station and
stepped out to gas-up the car.

Summer ran inside the convenience store and
grabbed some cheese, crackers, water, wine, and a few snacks, plus
a glasses kit without calling any attention to herself or the
groceries. She wasn’t even recognized by the young girl working the
register.

She struggled with the tiny screws on the
computer and finally looked up at Running Crane, exasperated. Other
than their headlights, darkness surrounded them. “You have any idea
where we’re going?”

“You’re talking to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She gave him a sideways
glanced, more than confused by his comment.

“I’ve asked you about three questions and you
haven’t bothered to answer me once. I figured I must have done or
said something to piss you off.”

“I’m sorry…I guess I’ve been a
bit…preoccupied. I never heard you. I’m not getting very far on
opening this thing. I got one screw out and it seems the rest are
stripped. I’d like to toss it out the window!”

“Maybe he stripped them on purpose. Up ahead
and a bit off the road is a nice private spot under a tree to stop
and get some sleep. Maybe I can get that thing open and we’ll
finally understand what’s really going on.”

“You have no idea how much I’m looking
forward to learning the truth. I’m tired of being afraid and I’m
more than tired of people getting killed. I wouldn’t make a very
good outlaw. I don’t know how you do this kind of thing every day,
Running Crane.”

“The past few days have been more than
intense, and it’s not always like this. When all is said and done,
this will have been the most demanding and complex case I’ve
worked. If that computer holds the proof we need, it just might
earn me an impressive promotion.”

Summer smiled. “Maybe they’ll offer you a job
in New York or even Chicago in homicide. Somehow I just can’t
imagine either place.”

“That’s not going to happen. Before my father
died, I promised him I’d continue to bring truth and justice to our
people. I love the ways of our people. I love our heritage. I want
our young to see there is good in law and order. I want them to
realize there are opportunities for the red man. They can do or
become whatever they choose. If no one is there to teach them these
things, they will not have ambition and will do nothing but drink
or do drugs. I want better for our people.”

“I know what you mean. I…have forgotten your
way of thinking. There was a time I wanted nothing more than to
prove an Indian girl could leave the reservation and make a good
life. I believed they had to leave in order to succeed and be
happy. This whole ordeal has changed me…somewhere along the way
I’ve felt a reconnection to our people and our ancestors. It’s like
the spirits of the old ones have been guiding me…and helping me. I
don’t think either of us would be alive if I hadn’t learned to
listen to them. I suppose that sounds beyond strange?”

Running Crane eased the car under the heavy
cover of several cottonwood trees and turned off the ignition.
“That doesn’t sound strange at all. I’ve listened to the spirits of
our ancestors since I was old enough to understand them. I knew I’d
never stray far from our people. There are times my work takes me
away, but I always return. Did you know I bought some land just
north of Browning and have started building a massive log house
facing Chief Mountain? It’s located on the border between
Glacier National Park and the Reservation near the
northeast corner of the Park. The sale of the Reservation land
is straight east of my place.” He flipped on the overhead
light.

Summer looked at him and smiled. “James Welch
wrote about the Chief Mountains…or what Fools Crow said about them
years ago. I might not remember it word for word, but the
description did stay in my mind because I’ve often stared at Chief
Mountain and found myself captivated by it. He said White Man's Dog
raised his eyes to the west and followed the Backbone of
the World from north to south until he picked out Chief Mountain.
It stood apart from the other mountains, not because it was taller
than most but because it was strong with its square face. It became
a landmark for all who passed by. He said it was more than a
landmark to our
Pikunis, Kainahs
and
Siksikas
, the
three tribes of the Blackfeet, because it was on top of Chief
Mountain that the black horn skull pillows of the great warriors
still lay. On those skulls Eagle Head and Iron Breast received
their visions and their animal helpers who made them
strong in spirit and fortunate in war.”

“What else?”

“What do you mean, what else?”

“Do you know anything more about Chief
Mountain?” He took the computer case and mini-screw driver from
Summer.

“Chief Mountain consists mainly of
Precambrian limestone which thrusts over the top of Cretaceous
shale. It results in the anomaly of having some of the oldest rocks
on earth sitting on top of some of the youngest. I actually find
that fascinating.” Summer rested her elbow on her thigh and pressed
her chin into her palm.

“Didn’t Meriwether Lewis call it Tower
Mountain on the Lewis and Clark Expedition?”

“Yes. It’s actually one of the earliest
mountains in the area ever to be placed on a map, which
happened in England around 1795 as King Mountain. In 1854, a state
survey referred to the mountain as The Chief or King Mountain. And
years ago a German geographer dubbed it as Kaiser Peak. The good
news is today it’s appropriately named after our Blackfeet Indian
names of Old Chief or The Mountain-of-the-Chief.” This was the
first time Summer realized she loved talking about the land and
history of her people. How could she not have felt the pride and
need to share it before?

Running Crane pulled the final screw loose
and the laptop back dropped. Papers flew in all directions. “I’ll
be damned!”

“We did it, Running Crane. Grabbed them,” she
said. Summer picked several pieces up from the floorboard and
glanced up at him. “I’m almost afraid to read them.”

Chapter Thirteen

 

Running Crane gathered the papers and
pictures and tapped the bottoms against his leg. “I don’t believe
it, look at this picture.” He stared at Winter Timber Wolf and
Germaine Worthington holding an infant and smiling for the
photographer. He held the picture up toward Summer.

“My mother and Worthington have a baby
together…could that be—”

“Domonique is your half-sister? She must be
about ten years older than you. How did your parents meet?” He
studied a rather quiet Summer.

“I…uh…some land development company was
looking for Montana oil way back in the day and my father was part
of a group that rallied against oil companies. His group was at a
meeting in Vegas and met my mother. They were drinking some and
dancing. He woke up married and didn’t remember a thing. He tried
getting out of it by annulment, but she didn’t want to. He said he
was embarrassed and didn’t tell a soul. He got an attorney and was
prepared to prove it was a setup or scam when she said she was
pregnant. Of course that was me.”

“Are you kidding? Really?”

“You have to swear never to tell anyone.
There aren’t many people who know that story. Obviously the
marriage was bad from the start. They had nothing in common and
after I was born it just got worse. Strangest thing is she’s never
remarried, just goes from relationship to relationship. I’ve always
thought there was a reason, but it’s never made sense.”

“You think she tricked your father into
marrying her to get away from Worthington?”

“She can’t be that afraid of him if she
recently got information on him for Borden. Unless he didn’t know
she was collecting information on him. She tricked him into
believing she was coming back and once she got the…information she
needed…she could blackmail—”

“Get revenge is more like it. What did he do
to her that she needed to trick your father into marriage—”

“And move half way across the country? Good
question. Maybe we’ll find the answer in all these papers.”

Running Crane flipped past several other
pictures and stopped…nearly choked…then handed it over to Summer.
“There are several others from different angles. I think we just
answered all our questions regarding Worthington.”

“Is this what I think it is?”

“Domonique looks barely ten and that knife in
her hand is specific with the intricate design carved in the side.
It’d be easy to identify the owner—”

Summer cleared her throat. “And she’s
definitely covered in her baby brother’s blood. Who would have
taken this picture? That’s about the same time she met my father
and married him.”

“Maybe the infant isn’t Worthington’s kid and
he staged this to control her?”

“No, look at the mirror in the background. My
mother is taking that picture. These pictures are her ace. I’ll bet
she could put Worthington away for murder with these pictures. I
wonder why she didn’t take Domonique with her.”

“Because she isn’t your mother’s child. The
only way to get free of him was to get your father drunk and marry
him. She didn’t take Domonique because she isn’t her daughter.
Those pictures will not only destroy him…they’ll also destroy his
daughter. Domonique was too young to know what was going on at the
time of the murder, but you can be sure the stigma of these
pictures would damage her emotionally and in the eyes of everyone
who knows her.”

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