Hjak's cell phone rang before Keoman had driven even a block. The sheriff answered, listened for a few seconds, then muttered a thanks and ended the call. "Nodinens is at the funeral home to see if that little girl is her great-niece. Cal Whiting knows he's not supposed to let anyone near a body involved in a crime without a law official there."
Keoman turned left at the next corner and drove around the block to head in the opposite direction. The funeral home was on the outer edge of town. To break the heavy silence that had descended between him and Hjak for some reason — Keoman wasn't in the mood right now to try to figure out what he had done to piss off the sheriff — he said, "Wonder how Nodinens got into town? I hope she didn't try to drive herself. I had trouble traveling some of those back roads myself."
"The dispatcher didn't mention Nodinens' mode of travel," Hjak said in a grumpy voice. "But you know Nodinens. She'll ride her snowmobile for miles if she wants to go somewhere."
"I doubt she wanted to come in here. She probably assumed it was her duty, since she's the closest relative to her niece's clan around here."
Hjak shrugged, that grim look still on his face as Keoman pulled into the funeral home parking lot. "Wait here," he told Keoman as he slid out the passenger door and then slammed it shut.
Hjak could be troubled at the task ahead of him, Keoman realized as the sheriff trudged through the snow-covered parking lot. Even experienced lawmen tended to get emotional when there was a child involved. Yet Pete Hjak hadn't known about this side trip when they first left the office. He had, however, known what Gagewin wanted to talk to him about, and that would get to anyone.
Keoman hadn't missed the way Hjak looked at Channing Drury. If he was interested in Channing, Keoman didn't blame the sheriff. She was a beautiful woman with her glossy dark auburn hair, emerald eyes and that soft southern drawl. No, not always soft. He'd heard her the day before at the clinic, barking orders.
She didn't exactly fit the preconceived idea of a Southern Belle, even though she wasn't that tall, only about five-five. She wasn't tiny-boned or anorexic. Keoman guessed her weight at around one twenty, but none of it was fat. Well, only enough to give her the feminine curves men liked to feel between the sheets.
He smiled at that thought. At forty, he had never been married, although he came close twice. Neither of the women had made it to the altar with him, and it was definitely his own fault. Both were women he had met elsewhere, one white, one Native American. When it came right down to it, he couldn't bring himself to take that final step, even though he had asked one to marry him.
The engagement to the Native American lawyer, who had been considering returning to the area to set up her legal practice, dissolved when Keoman heard that his old childhood friend, Kymbria James, had been widowed. But it had been clear within days of her return that Kymbria had come back here for his Midé abilities, not to see if they could take their friendship to new heights. Keoman wasn't sure why that didn't hurt any longer. Maybe he had matured even more during the last few months. He'd heard Kymbria was dating the paranormal investigator, Caleb McCoy, who had been involved in the hunt for the windigo that wreaked havoc in the Northwood, and he'd felt satisfaction for Kymbria at the news, not jealousy.
He could easily allow himself to be interested in Channing Drury, M.D., who didn't wear a wedding ring. That could be because she washed her hands so often in her duties, and the strong soap might damage jewelry. However, he also hadn't seen any sign of a bare indentation on the pertinent finger, which would have indicated she wore a ring outside the office.
Even though she probably had a scientific mind that would dismiss his Midé beliefs as garbage, he would like to see if he could alleviate that dark sadness in the doctor's emerald eyes and make them sparkle with life again. He wondered if Hjak had noticed the hint of black circles, the layer of makeup attempting to hide them.
He had to focus on his people's needs right now, though. What the hell was going on here, with another monster appearing on the heels of the windigo? Had some demon portal opened due to the growing use of drugs among his people? The money from the casino should have made lives easier for the Native Americans, but instead it had given them cash to spend on pleasures they'd been without for a long time — alcohol and drugs. Pleasures that were a type of demon in disguise.
The passenger door opened, and Keoman jumped, startled. He had been so lost in thought he hadn't noticed Hjak return. The sheriff slid into the seat, and Keoman steeled himself for the news. The look on Hjak's face already hinted at what Nodinens had discovered.
"It's her great-niece," Hjak confirmed. "She brought a picture she got in her Christmas card."
Rather than replying, Keoman dropped his head and whispered a nagumowin that he hoped would soothe the child's odjib and help her cross into the land of their ancestors. Then he started the pickup's engine and said to Hjak, "Where now?"
"Back to the station," he replied grimly. "I have to notify the Ely police that we've identified the girl. I'll have to bring my own vehicle when I come out to talk to Gagewin. Where will the two of you be?"
"Probably in my madodoigin, if you get there within the next couple hours. We like to keep deep protection around us when we talk about this stuff."
"I'll be there well within two hours, unless something else hits the fan. So keep those stones in your sweat log heated up."
~~~~
Grateful to be outside in the cooler air, Channing exited the grocery store carrying her plastic bag of fruit and snacks. It seemed every person in town was shopping to replace what they'd used while shut in with the storm. Even when she had taken off her heavy jacket and laid it in the shopping cart, the heat had been stifling. These people up here did believe in combating the cold.
"You are the new doctor."
Channing halted and looked around to see who had spoken. The elderly, wizened Native American woman climbed down from the driver's side of a huge red pickup. How on earth that little woman could jockey such a gigantic truck down the road was beyond Channing's comprehension, but evidently she did. The woman shut the door and approached, her hand held out in greeting. Channing shifted her bag to her left hand and accepted the handshake.
"Yes, I'm Channing Drury," she said, feeling as if she'd introduced herself dozens of times since she arrived in town.
"Nodinens," the woman replied. "I am the great-aunt of the little girl."
She didn't have to say which little girl. Channing knew immediately she was talking about the child at the clinic. Nodinens' pain-shadowed eyes corroborated that.
"I'm so sorry for your and your family's loss," Channing said, truly meaning the inane, consoling comment.
"Can we talk?" Nodinens asked. "There is one of those new coffee machines at the bakery right here. They have that latte stuff, and I admit, I have grown fond of it."
"A latte sounds delicious right now," Channing agreed. As did some companionship, although she was sure this woman wanted to discuss the child's death.
Nodinens surprised Channing, though. After they picked up their lattes and sat at a small table isolated in the corner, Nodinens said, "You will be good for our town."
Channing removed the cover on her cup and dipped a plastic spoon into the melting whipped cream with dribbles of caramel. "I haven't made my final decision yet."
Nodinens chuckled, albeit a little sadly. "You will get used to those of us who live by the Old Ways and use our instincts."
"Old Ways?" Channing asked with a quirked eyebrow. "I'm sorry, and I know it's not politically correct. But when you say something like that, I conjure up Native Americans riding horses or using dog sleds to move their belongings from campsite to campsite. Then I see you climb out of that beautiful but huge truck you were driving…."
A true laugh erupted from Nodinens. "You are good for me, Doctor. And anytime you wish to drive my huge truck, you can. However, when I allude to the Old Ways, I mean the beliefs that we live by, not the material things we acquire. Those material things are conveniences we can afford due to the casino money." A different type of cloud shadowed her eyes this time, and Channing realized how expressive the elderly woman's face was as Nodinens continued, "Money that can do as much bad as good. But…."
Nodinens sipped her own coffee, then said, "You believed that I wanted to talk about Shaylanda, my great-niece."
"Shaylanda," Channing murmured.
"Yes. And that will be the last time I speak her name. Our beliefs say we do not speak the name of the dead."
"Why is that?" Channing asked with both interest and to sidetrack the conversation from thoughts of the tiny body, now lifeless.
"The odjitcags, their spirits, or some call them their souls, must make the trip to the land of our ancestors without hindrance. We believe that if we speak their names, it creates a hold that might interrupt their journey. There can be a time when it is truly necessary, but we do our best to avoid that, if possible."
"I see." She bit back the resultant question, but Nodinens eyed her sagely.
"The person who did this will not escape justice," Nodinens said. "However, our Elders and I fear there is more sorrow ahead first."
Channing frowned, and this time she went ahead with the query in her mind. "And you know this how?"
"From the smoke that confirmed the vision," Nodinens said without a hint of hesitation. "We met before I drove over to identify the daughter of my niece, and Gagewin told us of what he saw in his vision quest."
Channing sipped her latte without responding. She was aware of the various beliefs of many different societies, as well as the power of the mind. As a doctor, she had seen so-called miracles over and over again. However, she drew the line at the idea of foretelling future events, despite how intriguing the interpretations of Nostradamus' predictions were. She'd been pulled into the fascination of mystic and new age spiritualism herself for a while, especially after one patient she had given only a month to live recovered without a trace of the horrible cancer ravaging her body.
Were it possible to know of, or even have a hint as to, an approaching disaster or triumph, Rose wouldn't be dead. She would never have left her daughter's side that day.
But you didn't, her mind said. Grant was the one who wouldn't accept his mother's decline.
Still, I saw the signs, she told herself for the hundredth time. I should have reinforced my diagnosis to Grant.
It's your guilt that makes you feel that way, not the truth.
"What the hell?" Channing said aloud. She nearly jumped out of her chair as she spoke, barely catching her latte cup before it tumbled. The liquid that spilled on her had cooled, but it still smarted on the tender skin between her thumb and forefinger. She almost threw the cup aside in reaction, but the elderly lady across from her reached over and took it from her.
Instead of thanking Nodinens, Channing sat back in her chair and stared around the room. Who the hell had said that? The comment about her guilt had rung as clear as a bell in her mind; everyone should have heard it. But no one else in the room appeared to have reacted.
Channing's gaze settled on Nodinens. The tiny woman shrugged.
"I do not know what you heard," Nodinens said. "However, it was evidently something you need to pay attention to."
"How…?" Channing licked her dry lips and reached for her coffee. Nodinens relinquished the cup, but before Channing took a drink, she went on, "How did you know I heard something?"
"Your reaction was quite revealing to one versed in spiritual ways," Nodinens answered as Channing took a welcome swallow of latte. "You may or may not believe the truth about those of us who see and communicate beyond this world. Many times it is only that we are very good at reading people and their reactions. Their body language. Not always, though."
Channing nodded without voicing any of her own beliefs. There was no need to explain Grant's occupation to a woman she might never talk to after today.
Nodinens continued, "I am well aware you have strong convictions suiting your scientific, doctor's mind. But you need to know you are a part of what is to come."
Channing froze, then shook her head. "You've just helped me make up my mind. I have two other places that need a doctor to look at. I'm going to check those out as soon as I can get on the road."
"You may do that," Nodinens agreed, "but you will be back."
Channing left the rest of her coffee on the table as she stood. "It's been nice meeting you, but I need to go see the mechanic. Have a good day."
Channing strode to the door, for some reason expecting Nodinens to call something after her. She even halted and looked back. However, the tiny woman appeared engrossed in her coffee.