Henry Meloux and Prophet left before Sheriff Marsha Dross and the legion of agents from the FBI and BCA arrived at Paavola’s cabin. Because of his past, Prophet needed law enforcement to remain ignorant of his presence in Tamarack County, and Meloux had done nothing but gently guide Waaboo. So everyone had agreed not to mention their involvement. As the Crime Scene Team from BCA went carefully over everything, all the others who’d been there when Olivia Hamilton’s body was discovered had been moved away from the cabin, separated, and interviewed. While this was going on, the body of Olivia Hamilton was taken away.
Sheriff Marsha Dross stood back, observing, relegated for the moment to the level of simple bystander. Another woman stood with her, and she and Dross talked quietly until the interviews with Cork and Jenny and Waaboo had been completed. Then Dross and the woman approached them.
“This is Agent Danette Shirley,” Dross said in introduction. “She’s from the Bureau of Indian Affairs. She’s with their Missing and Murdered Unit.”
Cork knew about BIA-MMU. Jurisdictional complications, poor interagency communication, and complaints about the lack of due diligence from local law enforcement when it came to investigation of missing Indigenous people had led to the creation of this relatively new unit of the bureau. Dross explained that as soon as it was clear that the body buried in the blueberry patch was Native, she’d made a call to MMU.
Agent Shirley was different from the BCA and FBI agents. Older, for one thing, maybe around fifty, Cork speculated. But she was also Native. She had long graying hair done in a single braid that hung down her back. She wore beaded earrings and on her wrist a silver bracelet set with turquoise. And she had a comforting smile when she looked upon Waaboo.
“I have five grandkids,” she told him. “One about your age. They call me Yaya.”
Waaboo grinned and pointed at Cork. “I used to call him Baa-baa.”
Cork could see that she’d immediately put his grandson at ease.
“I understand that you saw Olivia Hamilton. Is that right?” she asked gently.
“I didn’t see her. I just kind of felt things when I was in the cabin.”
“What exactly did you feel?”
Waaboo thought a moment. “Scared. Mad. Sad.”
“So you didn’t really see her or speak to her?”
Waaboo shook his head.
“But the woman buried in the blueberry patch, you saw her, is that right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And she talked to you?”
“Not like you and me are talking. I just sort of heard it in my head.”
“What did you hear?”
“That she was lost. She wanted to walk the Path of Souls.”
“The Path of Souls?”
“The way to the next world,” Cork clarified. “An Ojibwe belief.”
“Ah,” Agent Shirley said and nodded. “I’m Lakota. We say they ‘walk on.’ Did she mention Olivia Hamilton, Waaboo?”
“We just went over this with the other agents,” Jenny said. “It was clear what they thought of Waaboo and his visions. I’d like to take my son home.”
“As I said, I’m Lakota. Believe me, I understand about visions.” Agent Shirley smiled again at Waaboo in that grandmotherly way. “Just a few more questions. Okay?”
He nodded.
“Did you hear the woman in the blueberry patch mention Olivia Hamilton?”
“Unh-uh. Just that there was another lost spirit.”
“In the cabin?”
“She didn’t say.”
“So, how did you know where Olivia Hamilton was?”
“I didn’t. I just felt maji-manidoog here.”
“Maji—?”
“It’s an Ojibwe word,” Cork said. “Evil spirits. Devils. After Waaboo told us he sensed something evil, we went inside to check.”
She nodded, then smiled encouragingly at Waaboo. “What did you sense in the cabin?”
“Someone was lost in the dark. And someone else was really mad. And scared. And mean.”
“Another person?”
“It was kind of confusing. It was like a lot of noises everywhere.”
“Would you be willing to go back into the cabin and see if you sense anything more?”
“No,” Jenny said. “Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m going to let my son set foot in that place again.”
“I understand,” Agent Shirley said with what struck Cork as sincerity. “But it might help us know who put that poor girl down in that dark place.”
“You believe Waaboo, Agent Shirley?” Cork said.
“Please, call me Danette. And I’ve seen stranger things.”
“I’ll go,” Waaboo said.
Agent Shirley looked at Jenny. “All right?”
Jenny’s face was stone, but she said, “Not without me. And I’d like my husband there, too.”
“That’s fine,” Agent Shirley said.
“I’ll get him,” Cork said.
He walked to where Daniel was still being questioned by a couple of agents, one from BCA and one from the FBI, both of whom looked to Cork as if they’d only just turned old enough to shave.
“Excuse me,” he said. “Agent Shirley needs Officer English.”
“Shirley?” the FBI agent said.
“She’s BIA-MMU,” the BCA agent told him. “We’re pretty much finished here anyway. Go ahead, English.”
Agent Shirley introduced herself to Daniel and explained what they were about to do. Daniel gave his okay.
“Are you ready, Waaboo?” Agent Shirley asked.
The little boy nodded.
Jenny took her son’s hand and they stepped inside.
Rainy, Annie, and Maria sat under an umbrella on the deck of the Four Seasons hotel, which overlooked Iron Lake. The surface of the lake was mirror-still, reflecting a sky that was a soft cornflower blue. The day was already warm and on the humid side.
“This reminds me of a lake in Guatemala,” Maria said.
“Atitlán?” Annie said. “But we need a few volcanoes.”
“The water is so blue, so inviting.”
“The air reminds me of Guatemala, too,” Annie said. “I’ll be sweating bullets pretty soon.”
“Will you go back right after the wedding?” Rainy asked.
Annie caught Maria’s eye and looked away quickly, studying the lake. “I’m not sure exactly what I’ll do.”
“We’d love to have you stay as long as you’d like,” Rainy said. “Both of you.”
“Thank you,” Maria said. But Annie was silent.
“I would like to go back to that place,” Maria said. “Where we were yesterday? What do you call it?”
“Spirit Crossing,” Rainy said.
“Yes. I would like to help there, if I can.”
“I’m sure any help you give would be welcome. I’ve been there many times with Belle and Stephen. Things have turned ugly more than once.”
“Maria knows what it’s like to fight the tyranny of bullies,” Annie said, smiling.
Maria put a hand over Annie’s. “In my experience, we stand firm against the bullies only if we link arms. The more arms, the better.”
The waiter brought them the coffees and scones they’d ordered. Annie and Maria were on an outing to find a suitable gift for Stephen and Belle’s upcoming wedding. They’d brought with them from Guatemala a brightly embroidered huipil blouse for Belle and a traditional shirt of handwoven corte fabric for Stephen. But they wanted to find something to give as a combined wedding present—a serving dish or piece of pottery, perhaps. Also, Cork had called and filled them in on what was going on at Paavola’s cabin and they’d hoped to distract themselves from dwelling too much on that tragic situation.
Still, like a powerful magnet, the discovery of Olivia Hamilton’s body at the cabin pulled their talk in that direction eventually.
“It is a terrible thing,” Maria said. “I am sorry for the grief of her parents.”
“I can’t help thinking that although it’s terrible, to know nothing forever may be worse,” Annie said. “I think about all those still missing in Guatemala.”
“Or the family of Crystal Two Knives here,” Rainy said.
Annie felt a prickle on her neck, the sense that someone was standing behind her. She turned, but no one was there.
“What is it?” Maria said.
Annie dismissed it. “Nothing.”
When they’d finished their coffee, Rainy said, “I’ll let you two go on with your shopping. I want to browse the bookstore. Text me when you’re ready and we’ll meet back at my car.”
As they rose to leave, Annie turned and saw a man sitting at a table some distance away. Despite the heat, he wore a stocking cap pulled low down over his head. He looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place him. He appeared to have been watching them, but when she looked at him, he turned away and seemed intent on studying the cornflower blue reflection on the surface of Iron Lake.
Inside the cabin, Cork felt cold even though the day outside was already warming so that it augured a scorcher. He wasn’t sensitive in the way that Stephen and Waaboo were, but he was sure the cold wasn’t a physical thing.
The agents of the FBI and BCA were about their work, mostly climbing into and out of the lower room. Agent Shirley herded her group to a corner where they wouldn’t interfere with any evidence collection.
“Are you okay?” Jenny asked Waaboo. She stood with a protective arm around her son.
“Uh-huh,” he said with a nod.
“Would you like us to be quiet, Waaboo?” Agent Shirley asked.
“It’s okay.”
“Do you feel anything?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What do you feel?”
“They’re worried.”
“They? Do you know who they are?”
Waaboo shook his head.
“Is it Olivia?”
“I don’t feel the dark anymore. I think she’s gone now.”
“Can you focus on them, Waaboo? These others?” Agent Shirley was eager, Cork could tell, but trying to be gentle with the little boy.
“Okay.” Waaboo closed his eyes. After a moment, his little face squeezed up as if he was in pain.
Jenny dropped to her knees and hugged him to her. “It’s okay, Waaboo. I’m here.”
Daniel knelt, too, and spoke quietly to his son. “What is it, Waaboo?”
Cork’s grandson opened his eyes. “They’re really mad and afraid. And they still have murder in their hearts.” He looked up at his father. In a voice filled with fear, he asked, “What if they know about me, Daddy?”