Wind Over Marshdale (25 page)

*****

Crash! Thomas bolted from his office chair and ran full tilt to the living room, from whence the sound had come. The picture window had imploded onto the floor, leaving crystalline splinters to glisten in the moonlight.

Thomas stopped in his tracks, not wanting to step on any glass in his stocking feet, and surveyed the damage. Shards of broken glass with a large rock right in their midst. The curtains flapped in the now exposed opening, letting in a rush of cold air.

“Daddy?” Thomas turned to his little daughter, standing in her nightgown, clutching a stuffed animal. Ryder was right behind her, hovering. “I'm scared, Daddy,” Whisper said.

He felt it rising in his chest. All the anger and frustration he'd been keeping inside for so long. Was any vision worth this?

“It's gonna be okay, Princess,” Thomas said, barely checking the anger in his voice, but trying for her sake to control himself. He gave her a quick hug then turned to his son. “Take her back to your room and lock the door. And stay away from the window. I'll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Ryder asked, his young voice sounding anxious now at the prospect of being left alone to protect his sister.

“Out. I won't be long,” Thomas replied briskly, striding toward the door.

“Dad, I'm scared,” Ryder admitted.

“I said take your sister to your room,” Thomas ordered again. “I won't be long.”

Ryder nodded mutely and Thomas watched as he shuffled his sister in front of him down the hall. She had started crying, and he knew he should probably stay to comfort her. But there was no time for that now. If those hooligans were outside he needed to find them while their trail was fresh. What he'd do if he did find them, he wasn't sure. One thing was certain, though. Nobody would put his family in danger and get away with it.

****

Guilt. Con decided to ignore it. It was overrated, definitely. He much preferred the memory of a sweet kiss as he'd left Rachel on her doorstep and the anticipation he felt at seeing her again.

He waved at a passing SUV. Thomas Lone Wolf. Wait a minute. Was Thomas trying to wave him down?

Con brought his pickup to a halt and put it in reverse, letting it roll backward several meters. “Thomas. What's up?” he greeted, rolling down his window.

“Have you seen the RCMP?” Thomas asked. “I thought they'd be around tonight.”

“There was a bit of an accident,” Con explained. “A kid got hurt. They might be busy with that.”

Thomas grunted in disgust. “Of course.”

Con peered at Thomas's tight features. “Hey, everything all right?”

“There's been an incident down our way,” Thomas replied, gesturing backward with his head.

“What kind of incident?” Con asked. “I'm still on patrol. I could come take a look.”

“A rock went through my living room window,” Thomas informed, his anger just barely in check.

Con narrowed his eyes. “Come on,” he said, not waiting for an affirmative. He put his own vehicle in gear and headed toward the outskirts of town. Thomas had little choice but to turn around and follow.

Con pulled into Thomas's driveway, letting the gravel fly as he came to a sudden stop. He felt almost as angry inside as he was sure Thomas did. “When did this happen?” he asked as soon as Thomas had joined him.

“Twenty minutes, tops,” Thomas said. “I searched around the entire area, looking for clues. Then I got in my car and I've been trying to find the cops. Seems they can't be found.”

“Man, this stinks,” Con breathed. “Hear anything?”

“Other than the crash itself, no. By the time I realized what had happened, they had plenty of time to get away.”

“Think it was just kids playing a prank?” Con asked.

“Do you?” Thomas asked pointedly.

Con narrowed his eyes. “Sometimes I don't know what to think any more. This used to be a nice, quiet town. A good place to raise a family.”

“If you're white,” Thomas quipped.

Con looked at the other man. He could see that he was on edge—that his emotions were raw, near the surface. “I wish I could disagree with that, but I know there's a fair bit of prejudice here. You just need to know that we aren't all that way.”

Thomas nodded his head. “I know. Thank you for reminding me. It's easy to forget sometimes.”

“You should go in with your family. They're probably scared. I'll find the police and be back.”

Thomas nodded again and they parted. Con watched until he was safely in the house, then backed out of the tiny drive and spun around in the direction of town.

****

The candles flickered low. The hour was almost up. She lifted the vial and let a dark, coagulating drip extinguish each flame, one by one. Acrid wisps of smoke ascended, filling the room with their pungency.

Miss Hyde smiled to herself. It was a powerful charm. Whenever blood was let, great power was released…

 

“I'm more than just a little concerned by what took place last night at Lone Wolf's place.” Con leaned back in his customary chair in Pastor Todd's office, and waited expectantly for an answer.

“And I'm still not sure what you expect the church to do about it,” Todd replied. “It's really out of our jurisdiction.”

“I thought that's what a church family does,” Con said. “Help each other out in times of crisis. We could send some people over to help fix the damage. Maybe pay for it, too.”

“Well, if you want to go over…” Todd shrugged.

“I was planning on it,” Con replied tightly. “As a friend. I just thought you might like to join me. Show them that the church is behind them. Give some moral support.”

“Um.” Todd frowned as he flipped through his day-timer. “I might be free in a couple of days' time.”

“Forget it,” Con bit out. He rose abruptly from his seat. “I'm heading over there now.”

“Give my regards—”

“No,” Con cut him off.

“Pardon?” Todd asked in surprise, his eyebrows rising.

“I'll show you my faith by my actions. Didn't you just preach on that a few weeks ago?”

Todd nodded. “Yes.”

“I'm not making excuses for anybody. Even you,” Con said. “Come if you want to, or don't. Just quit letting hacks like Marni Hyde intimidate you.”

Todd watched the other man stride from his office. With Marni Hyde on one side and now Con McKinley on the other, he was strapped to an instrument of torture designed to tear him apart. A chill along his spine made Todd shiver involuntarily. The icy fingers of fear had begun to penetrate even the safe confines of his office.

****

Ryder shut his locker and reattached the combination lock with a click. As he turned he almost bumped headlong into another student.

“Watch it, chug,” the other boy sneered, eyes narrowing. He brushed past.

Ryder mumbled an apology, keeping his gaze focused on the floor.

The other boy, whose name was Trent, made a less than complimentary remark under his breath. It brought a pelt of laughter from two of his friends.

Ryder kept his eyes on the double doors at the far end of the hall and started walking.

“Hey, chug,” Trent called out to Ryder's retreating figure. “Watch out for flying rocks.”

The light streaming in through the door panes flared with the brightness of a searchlight, matching the white hot rage that erupted within Ryder's being. Instinct took over. The thud of his books hitting the floor reverberated in his brain as, in slow motion, he charged, tackled, swung, connected.

Reality came back into focus with alarming clarity. His own heavy breath roared in his ears as he felt Billy Chang pulling him backward. Ryder looked around, bewildered. From nowhere, a crowd had gathered. One of Trent's friends was helping him to his feet. Mr. Roust was marching double time down the hall.

“Crazy Indian!” Trent bellowed.

“Trent!” Principal Roust barked. “Language!”

“But this…this…he jumped me!” Trent defended, his voice loud.

“Save your explanations for the office,” Mr. Roust ordered. “Both of you boys are coming with me.”

The fight had gone out of Ryder now. He acquiesced willingly, shoulders slumped as he followed a few steps behind the principal. Trent was a few steps ahead, beside Mr. Roust. He glanced back angrily at Ryder several times.

“Sit here and wait,” Mr. Roust ordered, pointing to the vinyl sofa in the outer office. Ryder did as he was told, watching through hooded lids as Mr. Roust ushered Trent into the inner sanctum. He glanced at the secretary, Mrs. Miller. She barely even nodded in his direction, but kept right on typing away at her computer.

Ryder slouched farther down on the sofa. The minutes crawled forward. What had come over him? It wasn't the first time he'd had to endure racial slurs. He'd almost grown used to it—expected it, even. But that comment about the rock. Now that had triggered something. A protective instinct. Just the thought of Whisper's frightened crying from the night before brought a sense of justification.

“Mr. Lone Wolf,” Mr. Roust called from the doorway of his office. Ryder rose from the sofa, apprehension clenching in his stomach. Trent glared daggers as he stalked past. This time, Ryder kept his own gaze steady. Nobody threatened his family.

****

“Thanks for your help,” Thomas said. Con had come back late the previous night to help board up the gaping hole in the front room and today he stopped by to take measurements for the new window. “The landlord says he'll pay me back for whatever it costs, but I won't get my damage deposit back.”

“I see.” Con nodded. “It could take weeks if the hardware store has to special order the window, so I'll make a few calls and next time I go into the city I'll pick it up for you.”

“You don't have to do that,” Thomas stated.

Con shrugged. “What are friends for?”

Con gathered up the remainder of his tools while Thomas wound the vacuum cleaner cord into place. “Have you got time for coffee?” Thomas asked.

“Sure,” Con nodded.

“It's already on, so help yourself. Cups are in the cupboard right above. I'll just go put this thing away.”

Thomas lugged the heavy shop-vac into the adjacent porch while Con poured himself a cup of coffee. He moved near the table and stood sipping as he glanced out the dining room window, straight across to Mirna Hyde's ramshackle house. He could see her face framed plainly in the opposite window, making no bones about staring directly at him through the distance and the glass. He looked away uncomfortably. Thomas had returned. “I know it's not very Christian, but that woman gives me the creeps.”

Thomas laughed. “She is a queer one,” he agreed.

Con glanced her way again, just in time to see her jerk the drapes closed. “You've got to wonder what she's up to,” he mused, sitting down at the table with Thomas.

“No good?” Thomas suggested, and laughed.

“There are lots of rumors, that's for sure. About her being a witch and all that. I try not to judge, but sometimes I am curious,” Con admitted. “You ever see anything strange?”

Thomas shifted in his seat. “She's up and about at the strangest hours, if that means anything.”

“And you know that because…?”

“Trouble sleeping sometimes.”

Con nodded. “Oh right. The dreams.”

“Yeah,” Thomas cleared his throat. “How long has she been here in Marshdale?” he asked.

“Six, maybe seven years,” Con estimated. He surveyed his friend for a moment. The other man was clearly uncomfortable. Like he was hiding something. “The Hyde sisters were from Marshdale originally but moved away after they left school. Marni came back first about ten years ago and then Mirna followed. Even Marni seemed upset by her sister's occultish ways, but now people ignore her mostly. She's become a fixture—an oddity.”

Thomas nodded his head, taking another gulp of coffee. “People don't understand the power of the spirit realm.”

“Is there something bothering you?” Con asked. “Other than the obvious,” he clarified, gesturing at the living room. “I've been thinking about that conversation we had a while back. About repenting on behalf of your ancestors. Have you done that yet? ‘Cause the offer is still open if you want me to come alongside.”

Thomas hesitated. Just when it looked as if he might speak, an unexpected knock sounded on the outer door. “Wonder who that could be?” Thomas asked, pushing back from the table and going to the door.

Pastor Todd Bryant was on the other side. “Hello, Pastor,” Thomas greeted.

“May I come in?” Todd asked.

“Certainly,” Thomas said, waving him indoors. “Coffee?”

At Todd's nod, Thomas went to pour the coffee. Con offered a stiff hello.

“Hope I'm not too late to help out,” Todd said.

“The window's on order,” Con said. “We could use a hand when it's time to install it, though.”

“Certainly, certainly.” Todd's head bobbed up and down. He took the mug Thomas offered and glanced around the small room. “Um… this is cozy,” he offered.

Thomas just sat down when the telephone rang. “Excuse me,” he said, rising again.

“This place is like Grand Central,” Con joked.

He felt bad about the argument he and Todd had earlier. Pastor Todd was still his pastor and that fact alone made him worthy of his respect. Con tried to engage him in small talk about the weather in an effort to not listen in on the conversation Thomas was having on the phone. It was mostly monosyllables on Thomas's part anyway, and Con didn't have much to say to his pastor at the moment. What could he say? Sorry would be a start.

“Okay. Thank you. I'll be there right away,” Thomas finished, hanging up the receiver.

“Trouble?” Con asked.

“I just have to run over to the school for a minute,” Thomas replied. “Sorry.”

“I need to get going anyway,” Con said, gulping down the rest of his coffee and standing.

“Yes, me too,” Todd echoed. He had barely touched his.

“Um, sorry about earlier,” Con offered once they'd hit the sidewalk.

Todd grunted his acknowledgement, but the cold look in his eyes sent shivers up Con's spine.
I suppose even men of God ha
ve
trouble forgiving sometimes.