Chilling Effect (12 page)

across his lined face.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I will help you.”

“Don’t you want to know what I need?”

“No. It doesn’t matter, daughter. You are helping our people,

so I shall help you.”

She blinked at that and glanced behind her. Joe was ending his

call and putting his phone back in his pocket.

“Oh, okay. Th at’s great. What I need is for you to keep an eye

on Ruby and Lily Smith, just until I get back.”

It was his turn to blink.

“Ruby? You don’t—surely, she’s not involved in this mess?”

“No, nothing like that. She was friendly with Isaac. It seems

someone believes she knows something, and they’re trying to con-

vince her to keep it to herself.”

His face clouded. “Ruby’s been threatened?”

“And her daughter.”

“Your spirit guide was trying to warn you.”

“Maybe.” She didn’t want to think about the vision. “Right

now, though, we need to worry about whoever wrote the note, and

not an imaginary beaver.”

“Buckmount,” he spat, storms gathering in his black eyes.

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MELISSA F. MILLER

She took a half step back. “Maybe. He does seem to have spread

the story about Isaac being mixed up with white drug dealers. But

don’t assume it’s him. Th at would be dangerous. It could be anyone.”

“It could be, but it isn’t. Yes, I will do what I can to keep Ruby

Smith and her daughter safe. But I cannot protect Ruby while she’s

at work. Sadly, Lee and his armed security guards will have complete access to her at the casino.”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I know. We’ll

try to be back before her shift starts. Joe can go to the gaming fl oor and play the role of drunk white man while he watches out for her.”

Joe approached as she explained her idea. Even though she’d just

come up with it on the fl y, he nodded like it was a well-considered plan.

“Yup.”

Boom nodded as well. “Th at could work. Lily should be safe as

long as she’s at school. But to be sure, I’ll stop by. I teach a session on our traditional ways each semester. My presence there won’t draw any interest or surprise.”

“Does your seminar include dream catchers?” Aroostine asked

the question before she could stop herself. It was rude, but the

dream catcher seemed so out of place, she really wanted to know.

His eyes shifted to the feathered decoration hanging in his win-

dow. “Eh, that. It’s nothing—you know, before you were born, that

was a symbol of pan-Indian unity, Aroostine. A way for the tribes to reach across our diff erences. But now? It’s just tourist crap. Hanging it there was Lee’s bright idea. He treats me like some curiosity to display to his investors, but he also funds my cultural board generously, so I choose my battles.”

“Oh.” She felt a sudden wave of sympathy for the old man. She

waited a beat and then continued, “Speaking of the cultural board,

is it okay if we stay in the cottage for a few more nights? We’d be happy to make a donation to the board,” she asked.

“Nonsense. You’ll stay as long as you like, as our guests.”

88

CHILLING EFFECT

“Th ank you.”

Behind her, Joe shuffl ed his feet in the dust. “We should get

going, Roo, if you want to be back before six.”

Joe was right. Th ey had a good distance to cover.

“Th ank you, Boom.” She turned to leave.

“No, thank you, daughter. And Aroostine—?”

“Yes?”

She turned back, and he pierced her with a meaningful look. “Be

open to your spirit guide. You may get another message. Trust it.”

She nodded, trying to shake the feeling that Boom was himself

trying to give her a message, and fell into step next to Joe. Th ey headed toward the Jeep. She glanced over her shoulder. Boom stood

watching them from his doorway.

89

Joe unlocked the passenger door for her and held it open. Th en, as he did every time they’d gotten in a car since college, he leaned over and kissed her. It was part of their routine, as natural as breathing after all these years. She smiled, her lips parting against his warm mouth, and leaned in close to him.

Th en she sniff ed the air twice and pulled back.

“Jeez. I’ll grab a shower at the hotel,” he said in mock indignation.

She shook her head. “No. Do you smell that?”

He turned his nose toward the front of the car and inhaled.

“What?”

“Cleaning supplies.” She wrinkled her nose. “Or maybe pool

chemicals?”

He took another deep sniff .

“Nope, sorry. It’s probably just rental car detailing.” He dis-

missed it with a shrug.

“I guess.”

CHILLING EFFECT

She slid into the passenger seat, but unease had lodged itself in

the pit of her stomach. Joe walked around the front of the Jeep. Th e sunlight glinted off his blond hair turning it gold.

He settled into the seat beside her and put the key in the igni-

tion. She sniff ed again. Th e smell seemed even stronger. Her eyes were watering.

“Wait—you really don’t smell that?”

He gave her a careful look. “I really don’t. What are you think-

ing?”

Her mind fl ashed to Lee Buckmount standing beside the vehi-

cle when they’d walked back from their stargazing in the meadow.

“What if somebody tampered with the car?”

His blue eyes darkened. He removed the key from the ignition

without another word and popped the hood release.

He stepped out of the car and she followed. He lifted the hood

and stared down at the engine and at—whatever the other parts

were. As a nondriver, she wasn’t sure what they were looking for, but she trusted Joe would notice if anything seemed out of the ordinary.

He stuck his head into the engine compartment and poked around

with both hands for a few seconds. He straightened to standing and

slammed the lid shut with a solid
thunk
.

“Everything seems fi ne, babe.”

She forced a smile.

“Th at’s good. I guess I’m just spooked.”

“Understandably.” He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze and

then returned to the Jeep. He started the ignition and let it idle, waiting for her to join him. Apparently, the door-holding/kissing

ritual applied once per trip. She grinned at that notion and started back to the passenger seat.

As she reopened the door, the smell of chlorine wafted over her,

unmistakable this time.

“Wait,” she shouted into the front compartment of the Jeep.

91

MELISSA F. MILLER

She squatted beside the vehicle and twisted her neck to exam-

ine the undercarriage. It was oily and streaked with black dirt. She grabbed hold of the side with some reluctance. Her hands were

going to be fi lthy. But she pulled herself underneath and scanned

the length of the vehicle.

Th ere it was. Right under the gas tank, a fi lmy white plastic

soda bottle was affi xed to the underside of the Jeep with electrical tape. She reached for it, unthinkingly, and then stopped herself.

Her hands began to shake uncontrol ably, while her brain processed

what her eyes saw.

Plastic soda bottle. Chlorine. Improvised incendiary device.

Th e words scrolled across her mind. Jumping out at her from a

national security bulletin that Homeland Security had shared with

the Department of Justice about a year earlier. Apparently, terrorists had learned that fi lling a soda bottle with swimming pool tablets

and rubbing alcohol wasn’t just a juvenile delinquent prank. Add

some nails, strap the bottle to the bottom of a car, and you have

yourself a reasonably serviceable weapon.

She scrabbled out from the under the car, screaming Joe’s name.

“Get out! Hurry!”

He swiveled his head toward the sound of her voice. Th e wild

look on her face must have put off any thought of asking questions.

He jerked the car door open and dove out. She grabbed his hand,

and they half stumbled, half ran toward the meadow, the Jeep still

running.

As they cleared the fallen log, the Jeep exploded in a ball of

fl ame and twisted metal. Th e heat of the blast hit their backs. Aroostine glanced over her shoulder as she ran, but all she saw was a cloud of black smoke undulating through the waves of the fl ames. She

ran harder.

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CHILLING EFFECT

Th ey ran until they couldn’t run any further, then they collapsed, their legs shaking and spent, their lungs burning. Aroostine surveyed the wide open plain and the empty sky. Th ey were miles away

from any signs of civilization, unlikely to be spotted by a farmer

or hiker. But that wouldn’t matter if a drone fl ew overhead. Th ey needed to rest, but they had to stay out of sight. She gestured toward a canopy of low-hanging tree branches, just a few yards away.

“Under there.”

She trudged toward the trees. Joe trailed her. Once she reached

the copse, she ducked under some branches and slid down to rest

against a tangle of trunk and roots. Joe sat across from her, his long legs stretched out toward hers so that the soles of their feet touched.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead with a grimy hand and

took a long look at her husband by the light fi ltering through the leaves. His face was gray, his eyes clouded, and his mouth set in a hard line.

“You okay?”

He nodded. “Th at was close.”

Joe Jackman, master of understatement.

“Yeah.”

“Th ank God you have the nose of a bloodhound.”

She managed a wan smile, unwilling to imagine what would

have happened if they’d pulled out and started to drive away with

the chlorine bomb unnoticed under the gas tank.

He tried to smile back, but his lips tugged down into a sudden

frown. “Our phones were in the car.”

She nodded. Another habit. As soon as they’d entered the Jeep,

they’d both plugged in their smartphones to charge.

Panic fl ooded his eyes.

“It’s better, anyway,” she told him. “We need to stay off the grid.”

She tried to keep her tone casual, but her stomach was jumping and

jerking like a colt on unsteady legs.

93

MELISSA F. MILLER

“What? Like hide?”

“Run and hide.” As she said the words, their rightness resonated.

Someone on the reservation wanted them dead. Sid was thousands

of miles away and limited by rules, regulations, and committee oversight in how much help he could provide. Th ey had to stay alive—

and keep Ruby and Lily alive. Th e way to do that was to disappear.

“You think it’s Buckmount, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t much matter at the moment. Who-

ever set that bomb wants us out of the picture. By now, I’m sure the EMTs have responded to the scene and ascertained that there are no

bodies. Someone’s going to be looking for us—whether it’s Buck-

mount, drug dealers from Eugene, or someone else, we have to lay

low. But, yeah, I think it’s someone from the reservation. Don’t you?”

He chewed on his lower lip and answered with a question of his

own. “What about Ruby?”

What about

What

R

about ub

R y?

ub A

y? nd

A L

nd ily?

L

ily?
Th eir names had run through her

brain like a mantra as she and Joe had hauled themselves through

the fi elds. She’d made a promise to Ruby. But their going back to

the reservation with targets painted on their backs wasn’t going to help either mother or daughter.

She wet her dry lips. “We’ll have to count on Boom to take care

of them until we can get our feet under us again. We need to neu-

tralize the threat against them, and we can’t do that if we’re dead.

We have to disappear at least until Sid comes through with plane

tickets for them.”

“You have a plan, don’t you?”

Her heart ached at his optimistic tone. She evaded the question,

unwilling to destroy his hope.

“Right now, the plan is to fi nd us some drinking water. Maybe

some edible plants, berries if we’re lucky. We’ll stay here just long enough to rest and then push on until nightfall, fi nd a spot where we can make a fi re and get some sleep.”

94

CHILLING EFFECT

“Ahh, water. Th at sounds amazing.”

“Okay, water’s easy. You want to stay and rest or come with me?”

She pushed herself to her feet, crouching to avoid the branches

overhead.

He groaned but hoisted himself to standing. “I’m not letting

you out of my sight.”

Despite her aching body and parched throat, a warm tingle

started in her chest and spread through her entire body at his words.

She smiled. “Good. Come on.”

He laced his fi ngers through hers and let her lead him out from

under the trees.

95

Aroostine thrashed through the tall weeds as if she had a destination in mind. Joe knew that was impossible, though, because they didn’t

have the faintest idea where they were.

Or at least he didn’t.

He picked up his pace, trotting a little to catch up to her.

“Where are you heading? Not back to the reservation?”

“Defi nitely not,” she muttered, her head down as she scanned

the ground below her feet.

He tried to picture the GPS map he’d followed from their

resort to the reservation. Th e closest town to White Springs was

Boylestown, but that had to be a good forty-fi ve miles to the west of the western edge of the reservation.