Dead Jealous (8 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It was nine before any police showed up at the campsite. Poppy followed the blue and white striped tape they’d used to cordon off the shore of the lake. DO NOT CROSS, it demanded. Someone had ignored it. There, on the grey and brown pebbles, at the place where Beth’s body had been dragged out of the water, was a homemade wreath of wild flowers; pink orchids and wilting cow parsley.

Poppy’s feet stopped moving.
She
should have thought of that. She should have asked Mum to drive her into the village to buy a bouquet. How could she have been so thoughtless? Beth deserved flowers.

The clouds parted, allowing the sun to poke its rays through. Her gaze was drawn to the sparkles of sunlight that skipped over the dancing waters of the lake like tiny diamonds being tumbled on the waves. When she was little, Mum had told her that those little lights were water sprites that lived in the deepest depths of the lakes. Theirs was a world so cold and dark that when they saw the first hint of sun, they would dash for the surface where they would dance and skip, trying to warm themselves. If you listened really closely, you could hear them singing until they would eventually sink back below. But if a little girl happened to step into the water as the sprites were sinking, they would drag her down to their kingdom where she would stay a prisoner forever. There was even a song that she was supposed to sing to the sprites so that they knew she meant them no harm.

Children of the lake and sea

Have nowt to fear from me

So leave me be and I’ll stay free

To live my life ’neath sky and tree.

It was a stupid song that tried too hard to rhyme, and she was pretty sure that it wasn’t an old folk tale at all, and that Mum had made the whole thing up just to stop her from going too near the lake. It had worked for a while. She would see those dancing lights and remember that although the lake was beautiful, it was a world of cold and darkness where children were captured by sprites and never seen again.

Those were her nightmares now. When she dreamed about drowning there were always hands dragging her through the water and she would hear the distorted sounds of the sprites singing.

If she listened too hard, she would hear them now, strange watery voices mixed up with the whispers of the breeze through the fir trees. Had Beth heard their song? Were there hands that dragged her down into the water and held her there until she stopped struggling? Were those hands human or did they sparkle and shine, beautiful but deadly in the moonlight?

‘Hiya Poppy, you wanted to see someone?’

Poppy was so caught up in her own imaginings that the interruption made her jump. It was the short sergeant. He was sipping coffee from a cardboard cup and rubbing his bloodshot eyes like he’d just that second got up.

‘Did you want something?’ he repeated.

Poppy swallowed. ‘The scarf around Beth’s neck,’ she said.

‘What about it?’

‘She
was
wearing a scarf? I didn’t dream it?’

DS Grant screwed his eyes shut. ‘
What?
’

‘She had on a pink scarf, right?’

‘Yeah? So what?’

‘She wasn’t wearing a scarf.’

‘What?’ He looked at her like she was talking in a different language.

‘When I saw her up on the bluff. She wasn’t wearing a scarf. My God, are you even awake? No wonder there’s so much unsolved crime.’

DS Grant scowled at her. ‘Maybe she put it on after you spoke to her.’

Poppy shook her head. ‘She wouldn’t wear a scarf like that.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Clearly it isn’t, otherwise I wouldn’t be asking.’

‘It’s pink! Do you really think Beth was the kind of girl who wore pink? Didn’t you see what she was wearing?’

‘So you think that because she was wearing a scarf that didn’t go with the ensemble she was...’

‘Murdered. And have you found Maya? You know she’s here?’

‘Maya?’

‘The girl Beth was looking for? The girl she was in love with? You are looking for her, aren’t you? People have seen her but she hasn’t registered for the festival. Don’t you think that’s a bit odd? A bit suspicious?’

‘Jesus, it’s too early for this. Poppy, thanks for telling me about the scarf. I’ll definitely pass on the information.’

And that was it. He lolloped away from her like a podgy Labrador retriever.

Poppy followed. ‘Is that it?’ she demanded.

The detective sighed. ‘What exactly do you expect me to do?’

‘I expect you to investigate! Isn’t that what the police do? Or is that only on the mornings you’re not nursing a hangover?’

‘Now, eh!’ DS Grant said, spinning around and glaring at her. ‘That’s out of order! Do you have any idea how many cases we have open at any one time? It’s not like the telly, y’know! We’re short-staffed. I’ve got friends being made redundant and a tragic accident isn’t exactly my number one priority. Now I realise that you’re upset, but just let it go.’

‘You said they’d have the postmortem by now.’

‘Yeah, well guess what? They’re short-staffed as well. Accidents happen, Poppy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have actual crimes to deal with.’

With that, he screwed up the empty cardboard cup, chucked it at the ground and stormed away.

‘That’s an offence, you know – littering!’ she shouted at his retreating back.

Poppy didn’t know whether she was more angry or upset. She ran a hand through her tangled hair and sighed.

‘Poppy Sinclair berating cops? Bob
would
be proud,’ a voice said.

The woman standing at her side had appeared with all the stealth of the wolf she was named for. Mo Little Wolf’s dark eyes crinkled with held-in laughter.

‘Mo!’ Poppy threw her arms around the woman’s neck and hugged her tightly. ‘I didn’t know you were here. I thought someone else was coming.’

Mo gave her a quick hug and then pushed her away, holding her shoulders and looking her up and down. She wasn’t much older than Mum, but the years had etched her face like rock carved by water.

Mo nodded approvingly. ‘You’ve grown. And are those…
breasts?
’

‘Oh my God!
Mo!
’ Poppy gasped, and folded her arms over her chest.

A wicked grin flashed across the Lakota medicine woman’s face. ‘You English, you’re so squeamish. I love it. Hope you’ve drunk lots of water?’

‘Huh?’

‘You’re sixteen. After all the years of bugging me, you can finally sweat with us. I’ve just seen your mom and she said it was OK.’

‘Oh, wow…yeah, that’s…’ – the last thing she needed – ‘…great!’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The morning sun dipped in and out of clouds as Michael tried to avoid hitting any of the many craters and potholes in the track leading down to the festival site. His mum had already moaned to him about the mud splatters in the wheel arches. Thankfully she hadn’t noticed the small scrape on the bumper from when he’d got a bit too close to a dry-stone wall. What did she expect? Lake District driving was an adrenaline sport at the best of times: add a few sudden downpours and a lot of surface water and it became a cross between waterskiing and downhill slalom.

Further down the track, a big black four-by-four with monster wheels and blacked-out windows was parked up. Two blokes were standing beside it talking.

Michael’s foot slipped off the accelerator and the engine died.

‘Fuck!’ he hissed. ‘Bloody stupid car!’

His hand went to the ignition but something made him stop. One of the guys standing beside the four-by-four was Burger Boy, the guy who was into Poppy. The other guy was tall, about forty, and wearing a slick grey suit that wasn’t exactly suitable attire for a Pagan festival. Mister Slick opened the boot of the car and pulled out a black sports bag, the kind Michael used when he went to the gym, and handed it to Burger Boy. Burger Boy pulled a brown envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to Mister Slick, then the two shook hands. Mister Slick got into the car and Burger Boy strutted down the road like a guy who’d just won the lottery...or just done a very good deal.

Shit.

The black four-by-four sped towards Michael. Quickly he started the Prius and shot the car into gear. He hoped Mister Slick hadn’t noticed he’d been stationary, but as the monster truck passed, it slowed. The Prius’s engine died again. In the rear-view mirror, Michael saw the monster truck pull in behind him.

‘Shit. Shit. Shit,’ he murmured as the driver got out and walked towards the Prius. When he got to Michael’s door, the guy leaned down and knocked on the window.

What the hell was he supposed to do? Get out? Just sit there, what?

He rolled down the window.

‘You all right, mate?’ the guy asked. His cockney twang seemed friendly enough.

‘Yeah. Stupid thing keeps cutting out on me.’

‘Thought about one of these. Do my bit for the environment, y’know – be a responsible citizen.’

‘I think I’d prefer yours,’ Michael said.

The guy glanced back at his dealer-mobile. ‘Yeah, she’s a beauty. And doesn’t cut out.’ The guy laughed at his own very funny joke. Michael laughed too, just to be on the safe side. ‘You need a jump start?’

Michael tried the ignition. The car purred into action. ‘Think I’ll be OK. But thanks.’

‘No problem.’ The guy thumped his hand on the roof. ‘Hope you’ve got recovery. Wouldn’t wanna get stuck around here. Arse end of nowhere.’

Michael laughed along. ‘I’m covered. Thanks for stopping.’

‘Take it easy,’ the guy said, and sauntered back to the dealer-mobile.

Michael sighed. ‘Poppy, what the hell have you got yourself into now?’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The sweat lodge was no longer a skeleton of tree branches. It was a dome covered in animal skins and striped blankets that looked like they’d been stripped off a kid’s bed. Between the dome and the lake, a group of women in shorts were collecting around the fire, rubbing their hands together and hopping from one foot to the other like it was cold. It was twenty-four degrees! What was that about?

Poppy sighed. She should have said no. Mo was cool, she wouldn’t have held it against her, but after all that the woman had put up with from her over the years – all the begging to be let in on the ceremony – it would have seemed ungrateful. She tugged at the sarong that Mum had lent her, feeling this was like the worst sort of fancy dress party; one you were invited to by mistake.

A guy strolled across the grass towards the fire with long easy strides. The shorts and loose T-shirt looked so normal it was a shock to see the tuft of green hair. Kane.
Kane was sweating too?

Poppy’s whole body tensed.

‘Hey, kid. What’s up? You look like a scorpion stung your ass.’ Mo winked.

‘I thought sweats were single-sex. Isn’t that the tradition?’ Poppy said, before she could stop herself.

‘Normally they are. The guy leading the men’s sweat is sick. They cancelled it. This guy asked if he could join the sisters. I told him to go jump in the lake, but he’s persistent – a bit like you. I prayed about it and Spirit told me his need was genuine so I made an exception…so long as everyone agrees. But say the word, sister, and he’s gone.’

The thought of sitting in a dark, confined, steamy space with Kane made Poppy want to turn and run. But from everything she knew about lodges and how they worked, people normally talked...told secrets. And Kane was keeping secrets she wanted to know.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. But Mo? Don’t put him next to me.’

Mo nudged her with her elbow. ‘Kid, this is your first sweat. You’re going to be right by my side.’

Poppy followed Mo over to the fire. When Kane saw her his jaw tightened and he looked away.

Death card. Ha! How about the pain in your ass card?

Litre bottles of water were passed out and they were all encouraged to drink as much as they could before entering the lodge. Mo gave out safety instructions. If you feel faint, you leave. If you have palpitations, you leave. If you feel claustrophobic, you leave.

‘This isn’t an endurance sport, people!’ she barked. ‘In this lodge we pray for Mother Earth, we pray for the brothers and sisters, and we pray for ourselves and give thanks to the Creator. Stuff’ll come up. It’s meant to. We all take baggage in there. Some of us take hand luggage; most of us take whole suitcases. Get it out and offer it to Spirit. But if at any time you need to leave, all you have to say is ‘all my relations’, and you can go.’

Kane was staring at his bare feet. It was weird seeing him without the combats and Doc Martens – like she was seeing him without his skin. He raised his head, caught her eye and quickly looked away.

The participants lined up outside the lodge. Some of the women crawled in backwards. When it was Kane’s turn, he got down onto his knees and crawled in backwards too. Just as he was disappearing into the gloom, he glanced up. His bright green eyes connected with hers and for a second he stared at her. ‘Have fun, Sceptic,’ he said.

Poppy rolled her eyes and folded her arms.

Another woman followed him in and soon it was Poppy’s turn. She forced a smile for Mo and crawled into the gloom of the lodge. Mo followed her in and settled herself between Poppy and the open flaps. Kane was almost directly opposite her, on the other side of the central pit dug into the earth. He looped his arms around his knees and stared at the ground.

Mo said a prayer and in came the first of the lava rocks that had been heated in the fire. Seven rocks in all were placed into the pit, then the flaps of the lodge were shut and they were plunged into almost complete darkness.

The temperature in the lodge began to creep up. Poppy could just pick out the outlines of bodies in the circle of darkness. At the centre, the seven rocks glowed orange, like they had been turned back into the lava that had formed them.

Something was thrown into the pit. Sparks jumped and danced, forming little fizzing lights between glowing rocks, and the air was filled with a bitter smoke that stung her nostrils and made her chest go tight. She began to cough and splutter.

Sage for purification – clearing the air...and apparently her lungs! Poppy slapped her chest to try and stop the coughing. A shadowy figure rose up and Poppy heard a splash of water. The hiss was so loud she thought the rocks were going to explode. Immediately the heat leapt up from comfortably warm to hot. Really hot.

Sweat prickled her armpits and she felt her brain begin to melt. She took a deep breath of muggy air. It didn’t seem to want to go in her lungs. She felt dizzy, panicky. She wasn’t going to be able to stand this for long.

Somewhere in the circle of shadows, someone began beating a drum in a heartbeat rhythm. And then Mo sang. It would never be a hit, and Mo’s voice wasn’t up to much, but the tuneless melody and occasional yips and shouts were strangely hypnotic, like Mo was transporting them all deeper into the earth. Poppy felt herself begin to relax. Maybe she could do this.

‘For all the brothers and sisters!’ Mo’s deep voice rang through the darkness.

Poppy concentrated on breathing slowly. The heat in the lodge was choking. But despite the heavy hot air trying to squash them – or maybe because of it – the women talked. They talked about relationships that had gone wrong, men who they’d divorced, loves they’d lost.

Poppy stared out over the glowing rocks, waiting for Kane.

When he spoke, his voice quiet and strained. ‘I loved someone. She – she’s gone now. Except she isn’t. Everywhere I look she’s there. In crowds. Here, she’s even here—’ His words were choked off by what sounded like a sob.

Maya was here? Poppy thought back to when they were outside. Kane hadn’t spoken to anyone. She assumed that all of the women in the lodge were just as much strangers to him as they were to her. He didn’t mean the lodge then...he meant at the festival. So he had lied. Maya was here and he was hiding her.

Water splashed, rocks hissed and sizzled; and the air in the lodge went from hot to volcanic. Poppy’s skin tingled like she was getting sunburn. It was unbearable. She sucked at the air but it scorched her throat and her lungs. She might be about to die – or at least faint – but that wasn’t important. So many questions: Why was Kane hiding Maya? Was he protecting her? Could Maya have killed Beth? Did they do it together?

‘She won’t leave me alone,’ Kane continued, his voice steadier. ‘I wanted her so much...but I want her to go now. She has to go...before I—’

Before he what?!
She wanted to leap over there and shake him. Before he killed her, like he killed Beth? What?

‘Closing our hearts to people is one of the hardest things to do,’ Mo said, gently. ‘We’re made to love, but sometimes it’s not good for us. Lovin’ people who’ll never love us back is like throwin’ our hearts on hot rocks over and over again.’

Poppy stared at the glowing rocks. In the faults and cracks she could see shapes and patterns. The heat from them burnt her eyes, but she couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink back the blur of tears. Each rock was like a tiny sun that was dying right in front of her. She remembered Beth staring at the burnt-orange sunset – the pain and hopelessness of loving someone she knew would never love her back.

Poppy threw her head back. She was gasped, trying to find cooler air. And she did. She wasn’t in the lodge any more, she was on the bluff beneath spinning stars that streaked the sky with glitter. Beth smiled at her, reached out a hand and trailed icy-cold water down Poppy’s cheek.

‘Love is like fire,’ she whispered. ‘Unless it’s channelled it destroys everything. She wants to destroy you, Kane.’

Poppy blinked away the scene. It was a few seconds before she realised she’d said Beth’s words out loud. She gasped. ‘I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to—’

There was the noise of movement.

‘Ow!’ someone cried.

‘All my relations!’ Mo shouted and the flaps were flung open just in time for Kane to stumble out of the lodge.

Poppy got to her knees, but Mo held her arm.

‘Sisters, we’ll resume this round in a moment. Take a minute to get some air.’

‘I’m really sorry, Mo,’ Poppy said, as the others made for fresh air.

‘Take it easy, kid. What did you see?’

‘Nothing! That’s not it. Beth, the girl who died, it’s what she said to me. I was just remembering it.’ It must have been a memory. Her mind was playing games with her in the dark. ‘I didn’t realise I’d said it out loud.’

Mo grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewed the top and handed it to her. Poppy tried to take it but her hands were shaking. Mo steadied the bottle while Poppy took a deep gulp of warm, plasticky water.

‘I should go.’

‘No. You need to stay.’

Poppy stared up at the walls of the lodge. The fir branches that lined the walls were moving closer, pressing in on her. ‘It’s too hot. I’m – I’m going to be sick.’

‘You walk out now and you take this with you. You stay, you leave it here. Understand?’

Poppy shook her head. She wanted to be outside. Hell, even the lake looked good to her right now.

Mo unhooked something from around her neck and put it over Poppy’s head. She looked down and grabbed the pendant. In the shaft of light coming in through the open flaps, she could only make out what looked like a smooth black stone.

‘What is it?’

‘Apache’s tear. It’ll protect you.’

‘Protect me from what?’

Mo reached into a bowl and then threw a handful of dried sage onto the rocks. Smoke filled Poppy’s lungs.

‘Mo! Protect me from what?’ she gasped, amid coughs and splutters.

Mo shook her head and muttered something in her native tongue as her hands made a sign over Poppy.

Before Poppy could ask again what the hell was going on, an approaching body blocked out the light coming from the open flaps. Kane kneeled down and crawled back in. He took up his place without so much as looking at her.

The rest of the participants followed him in.

Poppy wanted out. But Mo was between her and the flap and the woman looked like she might rugby-tackle her to the ground if she tried an escape.

‘The ancestors have deemed that we move forward to our last round. This time we give thanks to the creator for the blessings in our life, and we pray for ourselves, we pray for understanding.’ All the time, Mo’s dark eyes stayed trained on Poppy. ‘And we will pray that our ancestors will keep us from harm.’

One at a time, seven more hot lava rocks were borne into the lodge on a long-handled shovel. Poppy watched hopelessly as the flaps fell closed and all the light in the world was shut out.

Mo threw more sage onto the rocks and then several cups full of water that bubbled and sizzled. The steam and smoke rose into the sweltering heat. Poppy’s T-shirt was soaked through and the sarong clung to her legs. She was as wet as when she’d been pulled from the lake. The water that fizzed and hissed on the stones came from the lake. The same water that Beth had drowned in.

She tried not to think about it. She tried to listen to the women as they talked and prayed about their hopes and dreams, but all she could think about was Beth in the water all alone. No Michael to pull her out. Just hands holding her down until water filled her lungs. Hands that might have been Kane’s. Or Maya’s?

As hard as she tried not to, in her imagination she saw Beth on the bluff, looking out over the lake. Moonlight painted her face in shades of blue and silver.

‘The thing about shit is, eventually it floats.’ Beth turned to her and laughed. ‘Get it?’

‘No,’ Poppy whispered. ‘I don’t get it.’

Beth stepped closer. So close that Poppy could smell the Jack Daniel’s on her warm, tickling breath.

‘This isn’t real,’ Poppy said. ‘You’re not here.’

Beth smiled her red lipstick smile. ‘Watch your back, Poppy. He’s on to you.’ She leaned forward and brushed her lips against Poppy’s cheek. Her kiss wasn’t warm. It was icy, wet. And she no longer smelled of Jack Daniel’s but of rotting flesh. Beth stepped back, except it wasn’t Beth, it was a corpse with long strawberry blonde hair. Poppy was looking at herself – dead.

She screamed.

‘Shhhhh…’ a voice hushed her, throaty and low. ‘It’s OK, kid. Breathe.’

Poppy’s eyes flew open. The cold wet thing on her cheek was the wet towel that Mo was dabbing over her face. Mo’s smile was one of relief. ‘Welcome back.’

‘Is she all right?’ someone asked.

Poppy pushed herself up to a sitting position and saw that the person asking was Kane.

He’s on to you
, a voice whispered.