04 Last (22 page)

Outside, Eli watched us with narrowed eyes. I sensed him trying to understand what I had planned. He knew it was dangerous for me to be taken away without supervision. He had heard enough from the others to know about my months of torture. He knew I had a way of finding trouble. As Chuck maneuvered us back down the mountain, Eli disappeared in to the wilderness. I knew he would be watching.

The drive down the mountain was long. We passed familiar landscapes. The lake Daniel had taken me to after the fight with Cobb flashed by in a wave of color and light reflecting off the dark water. I heard roar of the waterfall and the memory of swimming with Daniel in the water came back. The memory made me focus on the oddity of seeing Chuck so near the bunker, at exactly the same time we had arrived.

I leaned forward to talk through the mesh separating me from him. I lowered the protective shield I had placed around my thoughts. The onslaught was better than walking in to a situation blind. I had to know if his allegiances went beyond being sheriff and arresting a wanted criminal. I had to know if he had ties to Marcus.

“How did you know where I was?” I asked Chuck.

Chuck’s eyes raked the rearview mirror again.

Girl thinks she’s smarter than a trained sheriff! Ha. She shoulda known better than to come back to the scene of the crime.

“I put hidden cameras near the bunker. I figured the killer might try to come back and erase evidence after we released information about finding Cobb’s body,” his voice mimicked his smug thoughts.

“You found Cobb?” I asked in as innocent a voice as I could manage. “Where was he? I thought he was lost during a hunting accident?”

An image of Cobb’s body, burned and buried under rubble came in to his mind at the question. It was an image he quickly suppressed. The thought forced me to repress a shudder.

“That game won’t work,” Chuck said. “We have evidence linking you to his murder.”

“Evidence?” I asked. “That’s impossible.”

Was it impossible? Had there been evidence? I had thought the fire had destroyed all traces of our fight. I knew it had burnt the Nightstalkers and Thomas, the Watcher, to ashes. So much had happened that night; I had forgotten that human bodies did not burn the same way as Watchers. They didn’t just dissolve to ash.

“You were smart to set the fire,” Chuck said. “But we were lucky. A large part of the ceiling fell on Sheriff Cobb. It protected him from the worst of the flames. Tissue remained intact.”

“So?” I asked.

“So, we found your fingerprints all over his neck and marks to suggest he was strangled…by you.”

“I strangled an old man?” I asked. “Why would I do that?”

That’s a question been on a lot of people’s minds. How you could save one person’s life and end another. Some people think all that traveling made you wild. Something about setting fires at schools and drugs, but I think it’s much simpler. Greed always gets ‘em in the end.

“Sheriff Cobb had documents that suggest your grandfather gave him some priceless artifacts. It’s likely you discovered the cost of these artifacts and confronted Sheriff Cobb. When he wouldn’t give up his property, you killed him,” Chuck said.

“What artifacts?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, but he couldn’t stop the visuals. I was surprised and more than a little annoyed when I saw the sword we had been hunting appear in his thoughts. It was perfect and clear, the coloring so vivid that I knew he had seen it first-hand, instead of in a book. He had touched the sword, held it in his hand. He didn’t know what it meant, but he had held it.

I tried to focus on keeping his thoughts focused on the sword. I had to know what he had done with the sword. Where was it now?

“Were the ‘artifacts’ destroyed in the fire?” I asked, trying to maintain my innocent tone around my burning curiosity. “I mean…why would I kill Cobb for those ‘artifacts’ and not take them afterwards, right?”

Chuck was bothered by my logic. He hadn’t considered that fact – he had thought he had figured me out. He pushed away his doubt and answered with a smug tone, as if he was validated by what he had to say next. The thoughts that preceded his words were a relief. As he spoke them aloud, I felt myself already plotting.

“We have the sword in evidence and the documents proving the legitimacy of his right to the antiques in question. They are at the station.”

Around my plotting, I was annoyed. We had done all the digging for nothing. The sweat and the backbreaking work had been nothing more than exercise. I was comforted only by the idea that he was taking me to the sword. The answer was closer than I thought.

“I don’t doubt it,” I said amicably. “How did you find him? Last time I was in town, nobody seemed to know what happened to him.”

“His daughter gave us various documents, including those that prove the sword is his. One of those documents mentioned the bunker he had bought four years ago. We followed the lead and found the cellar under the rubble.”

“Oh,” I said. “And instead of going on a manhunt for me, you put cameras on the bunker. That seems somewhat unlikely that it would have ever worked. I mean, what are the odds?”

Chuck’s mind worked to correct me, even though his face was impassive.

We did go on a manhunt. Three counties worth… and we put out word to be on the lookout, but you are a hard person to track down. It’s like you just…disappeared. You and Ellen both. No wonder Ellen took off as suddenly as she did. She probably heard about the murder and didn’t want to be a part of it…unless the girl murdered her, too.

“It was a lucky lead that paid off,” Chuck said. “We’re not a bunch of yokels, you know.”

“Of course not,” I said. “Problem is that things didn’t happen like you’re saying.”

The doubt in Chuck’s mind had increased with every logical thing I had said. It helped that he wasn’t used to thinking of young girls as murderers. I felt a pull to ignore the doubt, something in his brain that told him to forget what I was saying. The pull made me curious. It made me wonder if there was not an external mind at work on his actions. I knew that Marcus had a way with people’s minds. Was he controlling Chuck’s?

“That’s for the jury to decide,” Chuck said in a harsh voice.

“You do realize that I’m under age?” I asked. “You need to call Ellen before you can question me. You’ll also need to make sure there is a child’s advocate present. You also didn’t read me my rights…”

“How do you know all that?” Chuck asked.

“Ellen is dating Sam,” I said. “He happens to be a lawyer. A very good one. You do remember Sam, right? Or is he a suspect, too?”

“No…” Chuck said.

We pulled off the dirt road and on to a narrow two-lane road. Chuck didn’t say anything else to me as we drove, though his accusing thoughts were loud enough. I didn’t cut them out in fear that he would think more relevant things I needed to know in order to get the sword back. He didn’t. His thoughts switched to more mundane matters, his personal life – a wife that was good at giving him grief, and a daughter who was starting to rebel against him. Thinking of the daughter made him look at me more than once. He couldn’t understand how any girl my age could rebel enough to kill an old man.

It took close to thirty minutes to make it to the police station. The brick and the overhanging trees had not changed at all since the last time I had seen the structure. The only difference was the amount of vehicles in the parking lot. Only three other vehicles were in front of the building. One of the vehicles was a Forest Ranger truck.

Chuck parked his car and, with a sigh at having to move his bulk, got out to help me out. He was firm but not rough as he maneuvered me out of the back seat and toward the door of the station. He was professional, despite considering Cobb a mentor. He was worried that being rough with me would somehow ruin the case he had built against me.

As we walked across the lot, I felt the feeling of eyes on my neck. I could sense someone watching me. It was impossible to tell if the watcher was friendly or not, but I hoped it was one of my friends. I had to hope that Eli had told them I had been taken.

Chuck held the door for me as I entered the station. The two deputies, who were inside, stopped what they were doing to stare at me. One had been on the phone. His mouth fell open when he saw me. I heard the other person on the line.

“Are you there? Son? Hello?”

The second person stopped in the middle of the room. He had been walking from one desk to the other; he had paused mid-step. I stared back at them, feeling amused by their thoughts, which were surprised and completely terrified. They thought I was a ruthless killer. They only had it half right.

“Howdy,” I said. “Wet day, huh?”

Both of them kept staring.

“Greene, close your mouth. You look like a fish out of water,” Chuck said as he let the door swing shut behind us.

The first deputy closed his mouth and went back to his telephone call. “I’m here, Mom. Sorry. Yeah, I’ll be there for dinner…”

The second deputy continued his path to his desk.

Chuck took me over to Cobb’s old desk and made me sit in a chair. Sitting was awkward while wearing handcuffs, but I took the opportunity to look around for the sword. I could not see it, but then it probably was not a good idea for them to keep such a valuable lying around for just anyone to take. I wondered how I would get my hands on it without there being a fight. It bothered me more than the idea that I had been arrested. Worst-case scenario was that I used my newfound talent of ‘walking.’ I could leave and then break back in to the building later with the others. But without knowing where the sword was located we would run the risk of getting discovered…a second time.

As I looked around the simple, homey office, another person came out from a hallway on the opposite side of the room from the front door. This person was different from the deputies. She had long black hair and brown eyes. Her skin and bone structure suggested strong Native American heritage. She was wearing a green jacket and tan pants. Her face melted from a smile of welcome at seeing Chuck, to surprise at seeing me. I thought I also saw fear in the depths of her eyes. Her thoughts were a scrambled mess of memories, thoughts and questions. I didn’t need the nametag on her jacket to know who she was. I had seen Susan before. I had rescued her from the woods. It was the first time I had been chased by a Nightstalker. It was the first time I had seen a Nightstalker’s brutal nature up close.

Susan’s hands started to tremble. She looked at Chuck for a brief second, a curious mistrust forming in her mind, and she stuck her trembling hands in to her coat pocket.

“You caught the girl?” Susan asked in a carefully neutral voice.

“Saw her there about an hour ago,” Chuck said.

“Lucky you had that idea,” Susan said.

Chuck nodded. “I’ve got some paperwork to fill out. I’m afraid I can’t talk to you about your problem on the reservation right now…come by tomorrow, and we’ll get it figured out.”

“Sure. I understand,” Susan said. “Do you mind if I hang around for a bit? I have an old friend who was going to meet me here for lunch.”

“Not a problem,” Chuck said.

He readjusted his belt over his belly, so he could sit comfortably. Then, he sat down on his small chair and moved the computer mouse to wake up his ancient computer.

Susan, her eyes lingering on me, went back to the break room.

The dream was true…she has to be a spirit helper. Why else would she save me? Why else would I see her coming? But why now? Why here?

I was intrigued by her thoughts. Dream? I knew enough of dreams to know that not all of them were our subconscious. Some of them were actual messages. Some were not the kind of messages that should be listened to and followed. I wondered what dreams had been sent her way.

Chuck adjusted himself again, grunting until he found the perfect position in his chair. He moved a keyboard closer to his dangling belly and brought up a screen on the monitor. He looked away from the screen to me.

“Name?”

I rolled my eyes at the question. He knew my name – he had known Ellen and the Michaels family his entire life. He was just being difficult.

“Raspberry Jam,” I said. “My friends call me Raz. You can call me Jam.”

He looked at me sternly. “You are under arrest for murder. It’s best to cooperate.”

“And you know my name. Speaking of that...shouldn’t be informing Ellen of my whereabouts before you process me?”

Chuck looked annoyed. He pushed the keyboard away and grunted as he reached for the phone.

“What’s her number?” he asked.

I told him the number and waited patiently as he dialed. As he did, I heard strange sounds coming from the break room. It was the sound of metal scraping against metal. It was a sound the others did not seem to hear.

I refocused on Chuck as I heard Ellen pick up on the other line. Her voice was excited – she thought it was me calling. I was the only one outside of Alex and Daniel who knew her number.

“Ms. Michaels. This is Sheriff Chuck, from King’s Cross.”

Ellen’s tone immediately switched to cautious.

“Hi, Chuck. How do you have this number?” she asked.