Shadow Bones (16 page)

“N
ot much we can do tonight.” The sheriff peered through the darkness at the ground. “The shooter is gone, and so is Wilson. I'll see if I can track him down tomorrow.”

“He'll corroborate the fact we were shot at,” Jake said. He hoped the man wouldn't talk nonsense. If he started spouting about the Spider Woman, the sheriff wouldn't listen to a word he said.

“You're hurt!” Skye pointed to the dried blood on Jake's arm.

Reaching into her purse, she pulled out an ointment and took his arm in her hand. The touch of her fingers took the sting out of the wound. He smelled some woodsy scent in her hair from the herbal shampoo she used. Her ministrations were so typical of who she was—a nurturer through and through.

He loved her. The realization nearly rocked him on his heels. The emotion had crept up on him when he
least expected it. His life felt like it was spiraling out of control. Out of his control, at least.

That realization made him step back from her. “I'm fine. We can look at it later.”

Kimball fell into step beside them as they followed the sheriff's light out of the forest. Jake knew Skye had to be tired because he was exhausted himself. It was nearly three in the morning. Maybe these feelings he had were a result of his fatigue.

Glancing at Skye walking beside him, he knew he was kidding himself. He loved everything about her. Her intensity and courage, her caring for other people, the tiny lines between her eyes when she was determined.

But shackling himself to this island was another story. He realized it was all about control again. If he married Skye, he wouldn't be in control of his own life—he would have to take her needs and wants into consideration. Maybe he wasn't ready for that any more than he was ready to give control to God.

Skye stumbled, and Jake grabbed her arm and helped her through the underbrush. The moon was gone, and the woods were black and sinister. Good thing the sheriff had a flashlight. His own had given out.

Skye was visibly drooping by the time they found the road. Jake opened the SUV's passenger door for her, and she practically fell into the seat. The wound on his arm was beginning to throb.

He told Kimball he'd see him later and rounded the back of the SUV. “We're all worse for the wear,” he said,
slinging his rangy form under the wheel. “I'll have you home in no time. Your mom is going to kill me for putting you in danger.”

“I think it was the other way around.” She leaned her head back against the headrest. “Besides, she thinks you can do no wrong.”

“And what does her daughter think?” Jake would have grabbed back the words if he'd had the chance. He stared straight ahead at his headlights probing the darkness of the night. He'd never fished for a compliment before in his life.

“She thinks you're pretty wonderful, too,” Skye said after a long pause. “In fact, she'd like you to come to dinner tomorrow.”

His chest expanded, and he no longer felt the sting of the bullet wound on his arm. “Good, I'll be there.” He would have said more, but he glanced over to find her head lolling to the side and her eyes closed.

She was asleep. The tension eased in his muscles, and he smiled. They had time to explore this new relationship, or whatever this was.

Unless he turned tail and ran for his life.

 

Skye barely remembered stumbling into the house and into her bed. The noonday sun drove shards of light behind her lids by the time she awoke. The thought of what Wilson had said about her father came back to her mind. The rational part of her mind knew she was grasping at straws but she had to check it out.

She jumped into her clothes, then cleaned the house
and did the laundry. She'd talk to her mother over dinner. Her heart gave a flutter. Jake would be there for the meal. She didn't know how she had gotten up the nerve to invite him, but he'd seemed different last night.

Her smile broadening, Skye grabbed her keys and headed to her truck. “Mother?” Skye stepped into the house and sniffed the aroma from down the hall. Her mother bustled around the kitchen fixing dinner. The aroma of pot roast mingled with that of the apple pie cooling on the rack. Skye should be hungry, but her stomach was too tightly clenched to feel hunger pangs. She didn't want her mother to flip out when she heard the news.

“Oh, Skye.” Her mother glanced at her. “Dinner won't be ready for a bit. Are you hungry?”

Skye glanced at her watch. Five o'clock. “No, I got up late and didn't eat until two.”

Her mother put down the spoon and turned to face her. She ran a worried gaze over Skye's face and form. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. I was just out late with Jake.” She held up her hand when she saw her mother's countenance brighten. “Investigative work.”

Her mother's approving smile faded. “It must have been quite late.”

“After three this morning.” Skye perched on a bar stool and watched her mother turn back to her preparations. “Um, Mother, I heard something last night. I don't know if it's true or not.” She tried to keep the excitement out of her voice, but her mother stopped stir
ring the gravy and looked at her with a frown between her eyes.

“You look a little flushed. Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She looked down at the counter. “Maybe, er, I don't know.”

Her mother put down the spoon again. “What is it, Skye? You're scaring me.”

Just what she didn't want to do. Skye sighed. “Wilson says he saw my father.” She began breaking lettuce into salad bowls.

“Wilson New Moon?”

“Yes. He seemed to know what he was talking about, Mother. Do you know where Father might be hiding out?” It was all she could do to sit calmly on the stool when she wanted to be out searching for her father.

Her mother was shaking her head even before Skye stopped talking. “Skye, this is wishful thinking on your part. Your father is never coming back.”

“But what if it's him?” Skye pressed the question. “Wilson doesn't generally lie.”

“I know that, but he does get confused. There have been other times in the past where you thought you saw your father. For your sake, I wish Harry would come back and face all of us, but that's not going to happen.”

Skye clung to her hope. Her mother was wrong. This was real. “You don't know that.” But her heart sank anyway. She remembered Wilson's words. He wouldn't say he'd seen her father recently.

“I
do
know it and so do you, if you'd admit it.” Her mother came to Skye and put her palms on Skye's
cheeks. “Let it go, Skye. You can't live your life looking for your father every day. Put it behind you. We have a good life here, don't we?”

“Yes.” Skye tried to smile but her lips trembled.

“Peter has taken good care of us. Don't you realize how this hurts him—this continual and obsessive search for your father? Peter has done everything humanly possible to take Harry's place. You keep throwing Peter's love back in his face.”

“I don't mean to do that. Peter knows I love and honor him for all he's done for us.”

“He doesn't do it for thanks, I don't mean that. But it makes him feel he'll always be second best.”

“Mother, Peter came into our lives when I was eighteen. I grew up with a father I loved. No one can take his place. Peter knows that, and he knows he holds a special place in my life. Michael and James try, too, but no one can be a father to me now except my own.”

Her mother sighed and her hands dropped to her side. “You're so stubborn, Skye.”

Skye dropped her head. Maybe she
was
stubborn, but if there was even a chance…“So where might I look for my dad?”

Her mother spread out her hands. “I don't know. Maybe the reservation. His brother might have heard from him.”

Skye hadn't talked to her uncle Louis in months. He was a strange man, always going off for months at a time into the deep woods to “meditate and commune with the spirits of the forest” as he put it. She'd have to track him down and see if he'd seen her father.

And while she was at it, she'd see if this key she'd found was Michael's. If his father was at the reservation now, Michael was likely there as well. She pulled out the key. “This look familiar, Mom?”

Her mother picked up the key. “Not really. There are hundreds of them around town.”

“I think it might be Michael's. He paints his keys like that. I can check it out when I go out to the reservation.”

“Where did you find it?”

“In the meadow where I talked to Wilson.”

“You've got one too many salads prepared, Skye,” her mother said.

Skye looked down. “Um, didn't I mention I invited a guest for supper tonight?”

“No, you did not.” Her mother smiled, a sly grin that made Skye gulp and look away. “The handsome paleontologist, right?”

“Jake and I had strategy to plan on how to figure out who killed Cameron.”

Her mother's smile faded. “I wish you wouldn't get involved with that, Skye. It's too dangerous.”

“I live for danger.” She grinned to show she was kidding, but her mother's sober face didn't lighten.

“I'm not kidding, Daughter.”

“I know, Mother. I'm just joking. I'll be fine.” She jumped at a knock at the door. “That's probably Jake. I'll get it.” She hopped down from the stool and hurried to the door. She swung it open and smiled at Jake.

She was kidding herself to say her heart didn't leap like a deer at the sight of him. His dark hair was still
wet from his shower, and his freshly shaven chin made him look especially appealing. Dressed in khakis and a black shirt that deepened the darkness of his eyes and hair, he brought a surge of excitement to the room.

“Am I too early?”

“Nope, you're right on time.” She stood aside to allow him to enter. “Peter isn't home from the bank yet, but supper will be ready in about half an hour. We can plan strategy until then.”

He held out a bouquet of flowers, and her chest squeezed.

“I brought something for your mother,” he said.

The flowers were for her mother. Her pulse settled down a slow blip again. She should have known better. Jake had made it clear he thought of her only as a friend, even if he'd taken a step in her direction last night. It was foolish for her to wish for something more.

“I'll get a vase for them. Mother loves flowers.”

He followed her to the kitchen. “Something smells good.”

“Jake brought you flowers, Mother.” Skye grabbed a vase from the shelf and filled it with water than put the flowers in it.

“How sweet of you, Jake! I hope you're hungry.”

“Starved, especially after smelling it.” He sniffed, and a slow grin spread across his face. “How about you ditch Peter and marry me?”

“Do I hear you making time with my woman?” Peter entered the kitchen. He shook hands with Jake. “You seem to be holding up well. Any news from the sheriff?”

Skye smiled at her stepfather. He never knew a stranger and could put anyone at ease. His presence had added a warmth to the group. She wondered if Peter really liked Jake or if he was pretending for her sake.

She glanced at Jake out of the corner of her eye. What was not to like? Handsome, personable, he exuded a confidence that was compelling.

At least to her. She glanced at her mother and noticed the doting smile on her face. Maybe Jake had that effect on all women.

Jake kept up a steady stream of easygoing conversation, and Skye noticed Peter and her mother relaxing as they all ate. She showed the key to Peter, but he said lots of people did that and he didn't think it meant anything. Jake ate two pieces of apple pie and downed three cups of black coffee before Peter offered to help her mother with dishes.

Skye took Jake to the family room. Minx, the black cat she'd had since she was fifteen, took one look at Jake and proceeded to climb his pant leg.

He stroked the cat's fur as he settled back against the overstuffed cushions on the sofa. “The sheriff hasn't come looking for me, has he?”

“Nope. Maybe the gun casings were enough to convince him.”

Jake nodded. “It's about time.” He leaned toward her. “I had an idea.”

The suppressed excitement in his voice startled her. “Oh?”

“What if I leave some less valuable eggs out and have
Joe off duty so they're unguarded? You could drop me off so there's no vehicle around, and maybe the culprit will take the bait.”

Skye didn't like the sound of that. “I don't want you doing it alone though. How about if we park the SUV in a secret spot I know?”

“Okay.”

She hadn't thought he would agree. “When do you want to do it?”

“How about tomorrow night? Things will have died down a little. Could you start a rumor around town that I've found something even more exciting? Maybe Joe could tell a few people that he's sick or something.”

“News travels fast in a small place like Turtle Town,” she agreed. “It might work. Maybe we should draw the sheriff in on it.”

“Okay. Before it gets dark so our shooter doesn't see the headlights.”

“About six?”

“Great. Meet me at Windigo Manor.”

 

The next morning, Skye parked her old truck in front of the reservation's general store. The building's weathered gray facade looked like it could have been plunked down in a John Wayne Western. She skirted the missing board in the walk and went inside.

Michindoh, the big Ojibwa who ran the store, looked up from arranging pots of thimbleberry jam on the counter. “Hey, Skye. What brings you to the rez?”

“Looking for my uncle Louis, Michindoh. Have you seen him lately?”

“Sure, he just came in from a trip to the wilderness a couple of days ago. I think I saw him going into the casino.”