Forest of Shadows (21 page)

Even if only some of what he saw was true, shadow people whispering in the dark, it was a sign that things were stepping up, the bar being raised by some unseen hand. Their dream vacation could in fact bear more fruit than he could have hoped. 

“Something wrong with Judas?” Eve said as she descended the stairs. “He walked right past us without saying goodbye.”

“He’s a little freaked out right now. He pretty much said that he won’t be coming back to the house.”

John fingered the photo that Judas had eyed before he left. It was a picture of Jessica’s bedroom with a vague white blur down at the right corner of her bed. It sat atop a pile of about twenty pictures all showing off-white blurs or balls of light. He wasn’t about to claim them to be proof positive of a phantasm or ectoplasm. Shapeless anomalies caught on film were nothing to tout, so he kept them to himself. He had a couple of shoeboxes full of photos just like these back home from previous investigations or from people who had taken their own and sent them in. As far as he was concerned, they proved nothing, hence their home in unmarked Payless Shoe boxes. 

“Freaked out? Why?” Eve asked. 

John deposited the pictures in an envelope and tossed it into the open valise beside the desk that also contained his notes and an audio disk with the strange voice he’d recorded in the empty room upstairs. 

He repressed the consternation from his face and said, “How about we finish unpacking, have some dinner and put the kids to bed. Once they’re asleep, I’ll fill you in on everything.”

“Is it bad news?” Eve said warily. 

“Bad for Judas, yes. And maybe some validation for my bringing us up here.”

John made dinner while Eve unpacked and they both gave the kids a bath. Jessica was asleep before Liam for a change and they were both out by eight o’clock. Eve brought out a beer for each of them and five minutes later they were ready for a second round. While she went to the kitchen, he retrieved his valise from the basement and laid the photos out on the dining room table. 

While she studied the pictures, he recounted Judas’s initial story that caught his attention, then brought her up to date from his strange encounter with the ball of heat in the hallway to the sightings of the small boy, the shadow people in the front yard and the death of the librarian, though the last part in all likelihood had nothing to do with the rest but it did account for Judas’s current state of mind. When he was done, John leaned back and downed the last of his beer. Eve worked her female Houdini act and took off her bra without removing her shirt, pulling it from her right sleeve and tossing it onto the couch behind them. 

“That’s better,” she exhaled. 

He had expected some tension, maybe even apprehension, but she reacted like he’d just told her about a trip to the mall. 

“Okay, what do we do now? And please note I said
we
.”

John shook his head in amazement. 

Chapter Twenty-Four

This just wasn’t Muraco’s week. Sheriff High-Dick swung by his house to ask him some questions about the librarian that turned up dead in the library basement. Shida was a small town and word of her demise reached every ear within hours. And naturally the sheriff’s first suspect was him, even though he never had a history of murder or even assault with a weapon. Sure, he’d kicked a few asses in his time but never a chick. 

It was total bullshit. Now the word was out that he was a suspect and everyone in the town would stand up and say, “I told you so.”

Well screw them. 

Bunch of inbred, dumb ass, indigenous low-lives. Who were they to judge him? It’s not like he was living in a town of saints. The people of Shida had so many skeletons in their closets, they had to buy extra storage space just to keep it all under lock and key. Even his own father was once put away for—

“Hey dude. I got something to cheer you up.”

Wadi came waltzing up the trail waving a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a six pack in the other. His long hair was tied up in three braids and one of them had recently been dyed day-glo red. He tossed the bourbon Muraco’s way. 

“Thanks.”

Muraco flicked the cap off with his thumb into the grass and knocked back a giant shot. He winced, took a breath and went for a second. 

“Save some for me, man.”

“You’re not the one whose ass is on the line, again.”

“Oh yeah, I’m living a life of royalty,” Wadi replied with a game show flourish of his hands across his thrift store ensemble. 

Muraco leaned back against a graffiti-covered rock and sank down to the dirt. “When Sheriff High Bear comes knocking on your door and accuses you of some bullshit, then you can come crying to me. Right now all I want to do is get piss drunk.”

They each grabbed a beer and took turns taking pulls from the bourbon, chasing each shot with a mouthful of warm beer. It was the end of summer and the dark of the night was creeping back to its rightful place. There was a chill in the air that hadn’t been there just a couple of nights ago. Maybe winter was coming early, not that it much mattered. When you lived in the Alaskan interior, winter was just a state of mind. 

They were halfway through the bottle when Muraco asked, “Who did that shit to your hair?”

“This?” Wadi lifted the long red braid. “I was hanging around Erica Standish’s house yesterday, you know, just having a smoke and watching some TV. She got this idea to dye my hair, so I said what the hell. I was hoping maybe it would lead to her taking off some clothes but she passed out after our second joint.”

“On anyone else it would look stupid, but on you, man, it fits.” Muraco cracked his first smile in days. 

“You’ve seen Erica’s tits. You’d do it too if you thought you had a crack at them.”

“You know people are saying she’s High Bear’s girl.”

Wadi snorted. “Right. Like a hot piece like Erica’s gonna waste her time with an old fossil like him. I think he spread that rumor just to make people think he’s not an over the hill geezer.”

Something crashed in the brush behind them and they waited to see if Ahanu or Ciqala were making an appearance. Must have just been an animal.

“Hey, speaking of chicks, you talk to Mai lately?”

Muraco snapped the twig he’d been twirling in his fingers. “I haven’t seen that mess since I dumped her at the white guy’s place. She tried to call me a few times but I didn’t pick up. She wants a white man, she can have him.”

“I heard the guy drove her back to her place. She was telling my sister all about him for days. You know, shit like how good looking he was, how nice he was to her, how rich he must be to afford that place. You’d think he was a movie star or something they way she went on.”

“She say if he made a move on her or not?” Wadi had Muraco’s full attention now. 

Wadi shook his head. “No man. I could always have my sister ask her, if you really wanna know. What difference does it make anyhow? She’s a hosebag. Who hasn’t she done around here?”

Muraco rose on unsteady legs. His eyes rolled back in his head as he tried to establish some form of equilibrium. 

“Hey!” he shouted. “She may be a slut but she’s our slut. I didn’t give her permission to mess around outside her kind.”

“But you dumped her off at his place.”

Wadi winced as Muraco swiped his knuckles across his head. 

“I did that to scare her, not so she could sleep with some white devil.”

Wadi chuckled. “White devil. That’s funny. Maybe we should all start calling you Muraco X from now on.”

Wadi laughed until he collapsed on the floor, unfazed by the cold that had settled into the earth. 

“You think it’s funny? We’ll see how funny it is.”

Muraco fumbled in his leather jacket for his car keys and marched off down the path, rustling past branches and high grass like a charging bear, while Wadi feebly called after him to come back. 

It was dark and cold and Erica Standish was tired after spending over twelve hours on her feet waiting tables at the diner. Working at Cheryl’s Diner five days a week was a sure-fire example of why it was so important to graduate high school and get your diploma. 

Hubert hit the lights, locked the front door and joined her outside. 

“You want a ride home?” he asked. Oh, he sounded innocent enough, but she was well-versed in Hubert’s rides home. They usually entailed a quick stop at the bar for a few drinks, an hour or so of leering (once the booze got his guard down), followed by a treacherous ride home and a clumsy attempt at a good night kiss. 

“I got a ride coming,” she said, hoping she was right. 

Her car was in the shop yet again, this time probably for good. No sense throwing more money at a bad investment. She figured if she saved all of her tip money and used her wage to get by, she could have a used car in about sixty years. Things were not looking up. 

“Suit yourself,” Hubert said, zipping up his coat. “Looks like summer’s over. See you tomorrow.” 

Erica watched him amble off behind the diner, heard the roar of his old Buick as he drove away, rejected yet again. 

Her breath came out in wispy white clouds between exhalations of cigarette smoke. By the time she was down to her second Marlboro, she had the feeling she’d been stood up. The main street was dark save for two old street lamps that cast off just about enough light to illuminate the poles that held them aloft and the red glow coming from the small window of Phil’s Bar across the way. It was almost midnight and Phil’s would be closing soon. For all intents and purposes, downtown Shida would be utterly devoid of life in less than an hour. 

Where the hell was he?

It’s not as if she wasn’t understanding. Oh, she knew there were rumors about her and Sheriff High Bear, but they didn’t come from anything she said or did. And she was fully aware that the murder of that poor girl was taking up a lot of Gary’s time. But was it so much to ask for him to swing by the diner, a mere four blocks from the police station, and pick her up?

Ever since she heard about Millie she’d been understandably scared. The poor girl. And she was one of the lucky ones who had gotten away, only to come back. She always ordered a grilled cheese sandwich on wheat when she came by for lunch, never quite looking comfortable in her own skin. Poor, poor girl. 

Erica thought what everyone was thinking, all those people in the diner who filled their gullets with bad food and left crappy tips if any, though they were all afraid to say it aloud. 

Millie had been murdered. Brutally. Worst part of all, it was probably done by someone in the town, possibly even someone she’d served pancakes to today. For all she knew he was sitting in Phil’s, nursing a beer, waiting for last call where he would stumble out, spy her standing alone in the near dark, victim number two.

For something so brutal and so out of character for the town, the entire population of Shida was showing remarkable calm. She couldn’t figure it out. Were they so afraid that they dare not talk about it? She wished her parents were still alive and living in the big house she’d inherited after their death. She could use their comfort and security and maybe, just maybe, they’d talk about it with her. 

Or maybe Gary had found out about her afternoon with Wadi. It wasn’t like she slept with him or anything. He had weed and she had the need. Besides, she wasn’t Gary’s possession, and Wadi did have his charm. Gary didn’t even have the balls to tell anyone he was seeing her, so why should she forego her own life for him? No matter what the reason, he still wasn’t here and she was still alone. 

She thought she saw something move in the shadows across the street. Whatever it was, it was big and fast. She squinted into the darkness but could see nothing. 

There it was again, out of the corner of her eye, a tall, amorphous patch of night blacker than the surrounding darkness. 

She rubbed her eyes and looked away, eager to dispel it as nothing more than exhaustion.

“Screw this.”

Erica, alone and just a block away from where Millie had been murdered, decided enough was enough. What started out as a purposeful walk towards the police station escalated into something between a jog and a flat-out run. The clack of her shoes against the pavement echoed between the stores on Main Street and followed her all the way to the station, sounding like an extra pair of footsteps creeping up just behind her, so close, and getting closer. 

It was a miracle that Muraco was able to keep the car on the road. The booze had hit him hard tonight, thanks to his skipping lunch and dinner. Now that the night time light of summer was gone, the streets were as dark as the interior of a deep, unexplored cave. It didn’t matter, though. He’d lived in Shida all his life and it would take more than alcohol and a little darkness to make him lose his way. 

As he made the final turn to the rich man’s house, a raccoon the size of a dog darted out into what passed for a street. He slammed on the brakes, narrowly missing the frightened animal. He was many things, all things bad to most of the people around here. One thing he was not was an animal killer. He respected all wild, living creatures, even envied them. When he turned thirteen his grandfather had visited from Arizona and took him on his first spiritual journey. He was old enough now to realize the old man just took him outside to get stoned, but at the time he was enthralled by his tales of the animal spirits and dream guides. It was one of the few times in his life he actually felt like a true Native. His parents could care less for the old ways. They were both drunks anyway, going on their own vision quests night after night.