Chapter1

Chapter 1

Kat Tenney walked the lake’s shoreline, trying to make sense of the strange turn her life had taken.
 
A top priority on her to-do list always kept in the back of her mind had been to mend the rift with her parents.
 
Now that would never happen.
 
  

Autopsy reports stated the cause of death was a .44 caliber bullet to their brains.
 
Convinced they’d been killed by a would-be robber, Maine State Troopers refused to actively seek the murderer.
 
The trooper’s words still rang in her ears.
 
“Robbery is the only viable motive for this crime.
 
There’s nothing more to investigate.
 
The forensics team spent two days at the lodge and found no clues.
 
If we get any fresh leads, we’ll reopen the investigation.”

“There’s nothing missing, Officer,” she’d argued.

“And how do you know that?”
 
His patronizing tone had ticked her off.
 
She’d been tempted to punch him in the jaw.
 
“You’ve been in
Iraq
for the past year and away from home for three years before that.”

Unable to argue with that fact, she’d given up.
 
To her eyes, the inside of the lodge looked the same as it had her entire life.
 
More important, her gut screamed that robbery hadn’t been the motive.

Kat trekked on.
 
“Robbery, bullshit!”
 
She shouted at the top of her lungs.
 
The words traveled across the lake and bounced back at her from the surrounding mountains.
 
Get a grip, Kat.
 
After a number of sleepless nights, her emotions ran high.
 

When the dog at her side whimpered, she knelt on the ground and hugged him.
 
“Ah, Red, I’m not mad at you.
 
I’m mad at life.”
 
The simplicity of the dog’s love warmed her as nothing else had since she arrived home.
 

“Here you go.”
 
She heaved a piece of driftwood into the crystal clear water.
 
The Chesapeake’s enthusiasm as he bounded in the water and swam to retrieve the wood lifted her spirits.

“Come on, boy.
 
Let’s go.”
 
With the dog hugging her side, she jogged along the rocky shore, paying little attention to the drone of a plane in the distance.
 
Seaplanes occasionally flew over the area during the summer months.

After a while she slowed her pace to watch the loons diving under water to feed.
 
Red danced around her legs, pleading for more play time.
 
The zest in his eyes brought a smile to her face.
 
“You know a sucker when you see one.”
 
She picked up another piece of wood and threw it.
 

Kat lifted her face toward the east, closed her eyes and soaked up the warmth of the fast-rising sun.
 
Hot rays penetrated her skin, reminding her of the lazy summer days during childhood.
 
Memories of the smell of wildflowers that she and her grandmother often picked in the dewy mornings tickled her nose.
 
Recollections of balmy evenings, toasting marshmallows over an open fire swamped her senses.
 
She could almost smell the pungent smoke from the wood fire and taste the sweet, gooey centers of marshmallows covered with crusty brown exteriors.
 

Kat shook away the cobwebs and forced her mind back to the present.
 
Two days ago she’d been fighting insurgents in
Iraq
.
 
Today she stood in her backyard, trying to come up with a plan to find her parents’ murderer.
 
She threw another stick for Red and pushed on.

The plane flew closer now, its altitude low.
 
Curious, she stopped and watched it bank, turn, and follow the shoreline, flying toward her.
 
Was the pilot planning to land?
 
She brought her hand to her eyes to shield the bright sun.
  

A black shadow moved across the rocky shore.
 
She glanced up to see a lone raven soaring above the trees.
 
How odd.
 
As a rule, ravens flew in pairs or groups of three.
 
This one flew alone.
 

A quick flash of polished metal grabbed her attention right before the staccato of gunfire shattered the silence.
 
Pebbles, rocks and sand flew in all directions hitting her bare legs and arms.
 
An Uzi?
 
Jesus.
 
Military training kicked in.
 
She dropped to the ground and crawled low for the cover of some low-hanging spruce branches.
 
Her left shoulder throbbed.
 
Had she been hit?
 

Red scrambled to safety right behind her.
 
He whimpered a few times, but laid quietly, his eyes glued to her face, trusting her to protect him.

Kat remained motionless, not allowing even a muscle to twitch.
 
Her ears buzzed from the gunfire.
 
The noise of the plane’s engine had faded.
 
Had it moved on or landed on the lake?

Then the whup, whup, whup of a helicopter came from the west.
 
Red growled deep in his throat.
 
A simple “sshh” quieted him.
 
What the hell was going on?
 
Why would anyone want to harm her?
 

She peered through the branches of the spruce, her eyes widening in disbelief.
 
About several hundred feet down the lake a helicopter hovered over the water close to shore.
 
Two men dressed in military fatigues emerged from the woods and waded in the water to waist level.

Who were these guys?
 
Her parents’ killers?
 
A ladder descended from the aircraft.
 
Immediately after the men climbed it and vanished inside, the helicopter lifted and disappeared behind the trees.

Several minutes passed before Kat straightened her body.
 
Her choice of clothes that morning, shorts and a tank top, didn’t provide the best protection from flying debris.
 
A trail of blood trickled down her arm.
 
She examined her shoulder and found a gouge the size of a quarter.
 
The lingering smell of aircraft fuel and gunpowder in the air irritated her nose. She felt as if she was back in a war zone, not her own backyard.
 

Marunga, my special little Rainbow.
 
Remember you’re a Penobscot warrior
.
  

Kat froze, the hair rising on her arms at the sound of the familiar, gentle voice.
 
“Grandmother?”
 
She looked to her left, then right, before peering into the thick forest.
 
God, had she hit her head?
 
Was she hearing voices?
 
She threaded her fingers through her hair searching for lumps, relieved to find none.
 
What about the voice?
 
Real or imagined?
 

She jogged toward the lodge, slipping into the woods instead of running the shoreline.
 
No sense making herself an easier target.
 

Memories of her grandmother flooded her thoughts.
 
They’d shared a special relationship; her grandmother being the one constant source of love and approval throughout her childhood.
 
But even that closeness hadn’t lessened the unconscious pain inflicted by her parents.
 
As she jogged along, she recalled a frequent conversation she’d had with her grandmother.

“Why don’t Mommy and Daddy love me as much as they love
Elizabeth
?”

Her grandmother’s answer always had been the same.
 
“Marunga, of course they love you.
 
You’re different from your sister.
 
People often fear what they don’t understand.”

“But I’m only a little girl, Grandmother.”

“A little girl with the heart of a warrior.”
 
Then her grandmother would hug her close. “Whenever you need me, I’ll be there for you, child.”
 

Could her grandmother be keeping that promise made so long ago?
 
Like many of her ancestors, Kat believed in the spirit world.
 

A rustling noise above in the spruce branches caught her attention.
 
She tilted her head and saw a raven perched in the tree.
 
The black bird’s beady eyes stared at her intently before taking off to disappear in the forest.
 
Her grandmother’s totem had been the raven.
 
Could it be?
 

Heavy silence saturated the forest, giving it an eerie, surreal feel.
 
Soft, green moss muffled the sound of her feet as she ran.
 
Red loped at her side, his paws hardly stirring the few dried leaves settled on the forest floor.