In the Arms of Stone Angels (16 page)

“I think they're gone, Mom.” I got to my feet, even with her grabbing me.

“Don't go. They might still be in the house.” Panic had gripped her hard, but she got up with me. “Get some shoes
on. There's glass on the floor. And no lights. They could be down the street waiting to shoot whatever moves.”

I slipped into the unlaced boots I had tossed onto the floor by my bed. And I grabbed the only weapon I had in my room—a pen I had in my purse, the kind with a pointy fine line. I gripped the pen in my hand like a dagger. When I crept from my room, I was clinging to my mom's back and we moved together down the stairs. Her breaths came in pants, like mine. And I was shaking out of my skin. I peered through the dark and found monsters in every shadow. When we got to the front room, I saw broken glass everywhere. Windows had been shattered and rocks littered the floor. Maybe we'd only heard the pops of glass breaking, but I still didn't flip the lights on. If they were watching down the street, I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of knowing that they'd scared us.

Stupid, I know.

With a trembling hand, I peeked through the drapes of the bay window and stared onto the front lawn.

“Oh. My. God,” I gasped.

Grams's house had been trashed. Garbage was strewn on the lawn. And someone had spray painted our windows and torn apart all the planting I had done. They had tossed dirt and plants down the street and smashed flowerpots. And toilet paper hung from the trees. I could only imagine what Grams's old house would look like in daylight and it made me sick.

After a long silence, Mom finally said, “We've got to call the police.”

“Do we have to? You know what's gonna happen.”

I knew reporting what had happened would be a waste of time—especially if Derek Bast had played a part in the vandalism. He'd spent his entire life flying under the radar of his
cop uncle. And only Sheriff Logan knew how many times he'd looked the other way to cover for his nephew.

“I don't care.” Mom crossed her arms. “Matt Logan might have this whole town fooled, but it's time someone stood up to him. The next time I see him, he's gettin' a double shot of me.”

2:40 a.m.

Obscenity spray painted in black marred the outside of Grams's old Victorian. And the crude words were meant for me. I was ashamed and embarrassed. I'd never had sex, but if anyone looked at the huge letters sprawled on my grandmother's house, they'd think I was lying. It was bad enough that bad news traveled fast in Shawano, but soon everything would be on the internet. I wanted to run, but there'd be no real place to hide and I wouldn't leave Mom alone. Besides, with all four tires on the Subaru slashed, neither one of us could escape.

The police cruiser parked at the curb drew attention like flashing neon. The spiraling red-and-blue lights shone in neighbors' windows and cast eerie shadows on the front of our house, reflecting off the shattered glass. And the deputy's radio blurted codes in copspeak. None of this was low profile.

Even at this insane hour, neighbors got in line to watch the circus. They stood on their porches and sidewalks and stared
at us like we were freaks. I was used to gawkers, but Mom wasn't. I saw their dark faceless shadows, but none of them came over. We were outsiders. If anyone had witnessed what happened, I knew they wouldn't get involved.

We were totally screwed.

I stared up at the house and whispered, “I can't believe this.”

All we had done had been ripped to shreds or destroyed in minutes. The new paint, the flowers and plants, and the clean windows—all of it ruined. And at my feet was a little white petunia that had lumps of soil clinging to its tiny roots. I bent down and picked it up, cradling it in my hand.

“Ah, poor baby.”

It would cost time and money to fix things, but the pain of seeing Grams's house destroyed took a higher toll. Even if we fixed it, there were no guarantees that Jade and Derek wouldn't target us again.

Since I'd come back to Shawano, everything had come at me fast—like I was stalled on the tracks of an oncoming train and locked in my seat belt with no choice but to wait for the wreck. And I was sick and tired of just watching shit happen.

“You said you heard a car. Did you get a look at the vehicle? Or see a tag?” Deputy Sanford's voice carried on the muggy night air.

He went down his standard list of questions and did his best to finish his incident report, but we had little to say. Since the destruction looked like kids had done it, the deputy had tried to pull me aside earlier, but Mom had gotten real protective and took control. After that, he directed all his questions to her.

My mother knew what would rain down on us from all
directions if she accused the sheriff's nephew without any real proof. Our suspicions wouldn't be enough, especially in this town. We were in a no-win situation and we both knew it, so we stuck to the facts, even though it was killing us not to say more.

“No, like I said, we were asleep. We didn't see anything,” Mom repeated. “We only heard it.”

“We'll get statements from your neighbors and let you know if they saw or heard anything,” the deputy said as he looked at our house. “In the meantime, you should take photos for your insurance. That's always a good idea.”

His attempt at being thorough and helpful fell on stunned, numb ears. Not much was getting through. I couldn't stand seeing my grandmother's home trashed, a place filled with memories. I knew Mom probably didn't blame me, but everything I had done since I got back to Shawano had brought this down on her. Was she sorry that she'd brought me…or sorry that she got stuck with me as her kid?

Maybe I'm an alien.

“I know what you're thinking,” Mom said.

“I doubt it.”

“This wasn't your fault. Whoever did this will pay, in this life or the next.”

Mom didn't go to church much, but she always got religion when she couldn't explain really bad stuff. And when the situation called for it, she made God out to be a really angry guy who got revenge in the afterlife—like he was a badass hall monitor with a whack sense of timing. I wanted to tell her that God would get a whole lot more satisfaction if he took care of business now and bitch slapped anyone who got out of line.

Me being an alien made more sense.

Shawano Sheriff's Office

Sheriff Matt Logan wasn't surprised to see his deputy, Will Tate, in the office this early before his shift. Most guys his age valued downtime, but Tate was real dedicated. This wasn't the first time he'd come in early.

Matt was working on his fifth cup of coffee when he saw Tate sitting at his desk in the bull pen, looking at a silver watch in a plastic bag. It had a striking blue watch face on it. Even from a distance, something clicked with him. And a slow gnaw in his belly started working.

“What's that?” Matt asked. “Mind if I take a look?”

“No, go ahead. We found it in a fire pit, covered in mud and ash. The wristband's broken, but the lab got it cleaned up. No usable fingerprints, but I'm still working it. We could get lucky.” He hesitated a minute before he added, “It's new evidence in the Heather Madsen case.”

Hearing Heather's name caused Matt to tense. That case was a black mark on his career, the one investigation that still plagued him. Heather had been a close friend to his nephew, Derek. A girlfriend, in fact. The investigation would have turned uglier if he had to put Derek on a suspect list. Boyfriends always hit that list, but the Nash girl and that Indian kid made things real simple.

Until now.

As Matt stared down at the silver watch in plastic, the walls closed in on him. He recognized the timepiece, especially the unique colored face. He'd ordered it special, online.

For Derek. It had been a special gift, for his nephew's thirteenth birthday, a rite of passage for a boy turning into a man.

“You said you found this. Where?” Matt tried to sound
casual. After Tate told him about the location of the crime scene, he asked, “And it's part of the Madsen case, you say?”

When Tate confirmed his worst nightmare, Matt pursed his lips and nodded.

“You got a minute, Will?”

He waved his deputy into his office. When Tate came in, he closed his door and offered his deputy a seat.

“I hear you've been asking questions about what happened to Brenna Nash at the Seaver party.” His question was a smoke screen to get his mind off the watch, but he also wanted his deputy to know that nothing got by him. He had ways of keeping tabs.

“Yeah, I have been. You got a problem with that?”

“No. Just keep me in the loop. That's all.” He rocked in his chair and steepled his fingers as he stared at his deputy. “Tell me about that sweat lodge you found, the one that the Henry kid might have built.”

“No maybe about it. Joe Sunne ID'd the knife that kid stole from his place. And some of his other stuff was there, too.” Tate nodded. “That was the boy's sweat lodge all right.”

His deputy filled him in on what he'd found. And he told him about the second knife at the lodge. The question of why the kid would've needed two knives was a valid one. And it had always been a mystery why Heather had been in the woods that night, but none of this was enough for him to reopen a case that would have the whole town up in arms. No, sir.

Will Tate was a good young cop. He had an easy way about him that Matt liked. And despite the fact Will had not heeded his advice on Brenna Nash—that the kid was trouble—he respected his deputy's instincts to pursue his own investigation. At his age, he might have done the same.

“I saw that Kate Nash filed a complaint last night. Vandals
hit her mother's old place,” he said. He hoped his deputy would see the connection. The Nashes were magnets for trouble, both of them.

“Yeah, someone did a lot of damage, Sanford said. From what he told me, it sounded like kids. Maybe it's linked to the incident with the Nash girl, after the Seaver party.” Will shook his head. “That woman and her daughter have had more than their share of crap to deal with.”

Matt's natural instinct was to lecture his deputy on believing a mother with parenting issues. Kate's little darling was never responsible. But after seeing Derek's watch in that evidence bag, he didn't feel up to it. His sister was a single mom who had survived a really rocky divorce. He'd wondered about his nephew after seeing uncomfortable signs that the kid gave his mother regular snow jobs about what he was up to. But kids were kids.

Kate Nash's girl was another story. She'd been involved with a half-breed kid who had killed a real promising young woman. Heather Madsen had been an upstanding girl from Shawano who had a bright future taken away from her and her family.

The Nash woman was no comparison to his sister.

“Is that all, sir?” Tate's voice yanked him from his doubts. “I've got paperwork to do.”

“Yeah, that's all.” He nodded. “And good work on uncovering the new evidence in the Madsen case. The D.A. will need it when the time comes.”

For his sake and for the town's, he hoped that time would come sooner rather than later. With the Nashes in town, things had come to a boil real fast. All he wanted now was a quick trial to put that Henry kid behind bars where he belonged.
The Madsen family needed closure. And he'd breathe easier when the case was officially closed.

Red Cliffs Hospital

After we got a tow truck to pick up Mom's car to fix the tires, we hitched a ride with Joe, and we got to the hospital half an hour early, but that didn't do us any good. Dr. Ridgeway kept us waiting outside the detention unit.
Forever!
He was making a point that he was in charge. But after what had happened last night—and with all the things on my mother's mind—she looked antsy and a little pissed. Her show of attitude covered up her jangling nerves.

Mom sat next to me, but Joe kept moving. With hands clasped behind his back, he paced the hall like he was a shark in open water. His eyes took everything in the way a predator looked at the world. His face was always calm. Only his eyes hinted at the coiled spring of tension inside him. The man knew how to keep his emotions in check.

Until today, I wouldn't have bet a dime that Joe owned a tie much less a sport coat. His jeans and boots offset his adult gear, enough to avoid the whole “Look at me! I'm a good Christian heading to church” thing. Mom wore a blue sundress and sandals. And I had on jeans, my best vintage sneaks, a T-shirt and vest, with a short brimmed straw hat pulled down around my ears. And I wore my biggest aviator shades that made me look like a fly.

I'd changed ten times.

“No matter how this goes, you're a tough, gutsy kid, Bren,” Mom said. “And I'm proud of you.”

“I'm an idiot.”

“You get that from your father's side of the family.”

I couldn't help it. I snorted a laugh. Sometimes Mom cracked me up.

“Okay, this waiting is driving me insane.” Mom sighed.

“I wouldn't say that too loud. Not in this place.”

She didn't hear me. Mom jumped off the couch like it was on fire and said, “I'm gonna find out what's going on.” She zeroed in on the nurse behind the desk.

After she left, Joe came over and stood in front of me with his hands stuffed into his jeans.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

“A little.” I wrung my hands and my knee got fidgety all by itself.

I didn't bother to hide my twisty nerves from a guy who knew exactly what it took to survive a hellish vision that probably had felt like being gutted like a fish.

“Tell me what will happen, Joe. I need to know.” I thudded the back of my head against a column and kept my eyes fixed on him from behind my dark glasses. “Mainly, I just need to hear your voice.”

He smiled. A real smile and not just a lip twitch. When it lit up his dark eyes, I could totally see him being married.

“Every journey is different.” The rich tone of his voice rumbled like distant thunder. I leaned my head back and shut my eyes to listen, until he said, “I hope he's strong enough to reach out to you one more time.”

My eyes popped open and I jerked my head straight. The thought of White Bird being too weak had me picturing him hanging off a cliff. And the only thing holding him there was me.

“I wish you hadn't said that.” I grimaced. “Positive thoughts, okay?”

The man nodded and sat next to me.

In a low voice, only loud enough for me to hear, he said, “You've already seen the inside of a vision. It's like a string of illusions, symbols meant as a message. Everything is important.”

“Wait a minute. What about him? I don't care about road signs in hell. I just want to find him and break him out of wherever he's at.”

When Joe hesitated, I got worried.

“You're hiding something. What is it?” I pressed.

“Remember when you first came to me and I said that I knew who you were?”

“Yeah.” I figured he'd heard the town rumors or seen something in the papers from two years ago.

“I knew you were coming,” he said, fixing his dark eyes on me, “because I'd seen you in a vision.”

“You're scaring me, Joe.” I glanced over to Mom. She was still talking to the nurse at the desk. “What did you see?”

“White Bird is locked in his mind, but even if you reach him and show him the way out of his torment, he still won't be free.” Joe reached for my hand. “Inside the memories you share with him is the key. That's why you're the only one who can truly free him.”

“What does that mean? I don't understand.”

“That's why I want you to remember everything you see after you connect with him. Nothing is too small. The dream signs could come from you or from him, but all of them will be important.”

“Why? I don't get it.”

“Everyone assumed he killed that girl. Maybe even…you did, too.” Joe took a deep breath. “But what if he was only a witness, Brenna? What if the real killer still lives in Shawano?”