Читать книгу Double Blind - Hannah Alexander - Страница 10

S heila and Doc Cottonwood set her two suitcases in the bedroom just as the crunch of tires on gravel reached them from outside.

“That must be Canaan and Tanya now,” Doc said, leading the way back out the door. “Might as well start meeting the kids. Tanya’s probably going to be your first challenge.”

“Why is that?”

“She likes her way. She’s a drama queen. Her parents spoil her when they’re with her, and she’s good friends with the Hunt children, so she’s annoyingly emotional right now.”

In spite of the abrasiveness of his words, Sheila thought she picked up on some concern in his voice. “Is she having a lot of trouble with Tad and Wendy’s deaths?”

He nodded as he led the way back out of the apartment. “You’ll see what I mean when you meet her.”

Sheila took the sidewalk, curious about what Canaan York would look like all grown-up.

She recognized him immediately, of course. As a child, he’d been small for his age. Now, as he climbed from the van he’d parked beside her Jeep, he straightened to a height well over six feet, long and lean, dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt…and a green baseball cap.

He’d always worn a baseball cap.

His skin was well tanned, bare arms muscled, his eyes dark, watchful. He met Sheila’s gaze for a bare second before the young girl, Tanya, exploded from the passenger side of the van.

“It’s Moonlight, Doc! She’s dead!” The girl had long black hair and strong features that would one day lead to beauty. She was possibly in her early teens, with the developing contours of a woman. Tears streaked her cheeks as she flung herself into Doc’s arms. “She’s out on the highway. We’ve got to go get her!”

Sheila saw Doc’s expression harden, and his arms went rigid in the act of encircling Tanya. He raised his gaze to meet Canaan’s.

Canaan nodded as he walked toward them, his sober face pained as he flicked a quick glance at Sheila, then looked back at Doc. “Looks like someone hit her with a car. We’ll take the pickup out and load her.”

“No need. I’ll take care of it,” Doc said.

Canaan’s attention shifted again. “Hello, Sheila.” He took her hand and squeezed it. His hand engulfed hers. “I’m sorry this has happened on your first day.”

Sheila didn’t speak, didn’t return the pressure of Canaan’s hand. She stood perfectly still. That dog in the desert…

No. She hadn’t lost her mind.

But a whisper of foreboding settled on her.

Doc released Tanya and turned to Sheila, brows lowering with obvious puzzlement at her silence.

“Wh-what color was it?” Sheila asked Canaan. “What kind of…dog?”

“She was just a big white mutt,” Canaan said.

“Kind of like a German shepherd?” Sheila asked.

“So did you see the dog?” Canaan asked.

“Well, I thought I saw something in the desert as I drove in, but I didn’t see anything on the road.” She thought again about the blowout…and the big rock on the shoulder of the road. “I had some trouble with my Jeep, hit a rock or something, but—” She hesitated, then shook her head. “The animal I saw was out in the desert, not under the wheel of my car.”

Tanya turned narrowed eyes toward her in accusation.

Sheila shook her head, still thinking about that rock. It was white, shining in the sunlight. The dog had been white.

Canaan glanced toward the front of Sheila’s Jeep. Instinctively, she looked, as well. All she saw was the dent that had been there for several years. No blood, nothing to indicate impact with the hapless animal.

Tanya glared at Sheila. “You just got here, didn’t you?”

Sheila nodded.

“Moonlight was a fresh kill.” The words coming from the girl held an ominous quality. “I think you killed her.”

Sheila shook her head. Surely she’d have seen some evidence…would have seen the dog, if she’d hit it. But she’d been too busy fighting her steering wheel, then changing the tire in record time. The noise she’d heard couldn’t have been the sound of the tire hitting an animal…could it?

But she hadn’t actually walked down the road to make sure that what she had taken to be a big rock was, indeed, a rock and not the lifeless form of a dog. It hadn’t even occurred to her at the time. Why should it?

Tanya’s small fists flexed, her jaw jutting out as she gnashed her teeth. “It’s what we can expect from a biligaana! ”

“Hold it right there.” Doc put a hand on Tanya’s shoulder. “Enough of this. You know better.”

Tanya jerked free of Doc’s hand. “But look at her! She acts guilty.”

“Stop it, Tanya,” Canaan said. “Quit while you’re ahead and go to your dorm.”

The girl stared at Canaan, rebellion in every line of her face, anger dark in her eyes. She turned to Doc, as if for help.

“You heard Canaan,” he said, then turned to Sheila. “Of course, you wouldn’t have—”

“How do you know?” Tanya demanded.

“Okay, that does it.” Canaan stepped forward, took Tanya by the shoulders and aimed her in the direction of the dormitories. “You need a lesson in the value of silence.”

“I’ll take her.” Doc moved quickly. “She can help me take the tire to the shop and dispose of the dog. That’ll take some of the pepper out of her today.”

With a shrug, Canaan stepped aside. “Sure, but what about tomorrow? And the next day?”

Doc nodded grimly. “I’ll let you worry about that. You’re the principal now.”

Sheila braced herself once more. This was quickly developing into the horrible experience she had feared, though not for reasons she ever imagined.

Canaan listened to Doc’s footsteps echo around the curve of adobe buildings and mingle with Tanya’s low, urgent voice as she did her best to convince her mentor of who knew what.

And then Canaan turned to look at Sheila, who was also watching Doc and Tanya, her eyes troubled, confusion in every line of her face.

He hadn’t expected to remember her so well—hadn’t known that twenty-four years could seem like mere days in his memory. Yes, she was an adult now, but she was still Sheila…and he could still read her.

He hated to treat his old friend, whom he’d once loved like a sister, like a crime suspect, but he needed to know what was going on. And something was definitely going on.

“What do you mean, you didn’t see her?” he asked gently.

His question dragged her attention away from Doc and Tanya. “What?”

“You obviously saw the dog, and you haven’t out and out denied hitting her. Do you think it’s possible you hit her? Maybe didn’t see her in the road because of the glare?”

“I…uh…I told you I saw something.” Her face had grown pale. “Just not on the road.”

“I didn’t see any skid marks on the pavement,” he said, trying hard to keep any accusation out of his voice. “But I did see tire tracks in the sandy shoulder. I thought it looked as if someone went to extra lengths to make sure the animal was dead.”

That brought some color back to Sheila’s face. The bright sunlight also exposed tiny lines of worry around her eyes and accentuated the downward turn of her lips, making him further regret this line of questioning. He knew she would never intentionally run down an animal, but he needed to know what did happen, especially now.

She looked away and took a slow, deep breath. “Right. Guess I’ve not made myself clear, but do you mind if we continue this grilling inside? It’s been a long, hot trip from Missouri.” Without waiting for a reply, she stepped back into the apartment, stood by the door until he stepped in, then closed it. “Have a seat. I want something to drink. You?”

He shook his head and sat on the love seat. She was stalling, bumbling around in the small kitchen, searching for glasses, testing the tap.

He watched every nervous move, his concern deepening. “There’s cold water in the fridge,” he said at last.

She ignored him and filled her glass with tap water.

“It’s not an option.” He continued watching her, remembering her occasional stubbornness when they were children. “It’s the only drinking water you have. It’s brought in once a week. That’s never changed.”

With a sigh, Sheila emptied the glass into the sink, set it on the counter and strolled back into the living room, obviously trying hard to look unflustered. “Guess my memory isn’t what it used to be.”

He waited and watched as she sat across from him in a straight-backed chair. Wasn’t she going to explain about the dog? This was the friend he’d loved when they were children, a champion with a tender heart. How many times had he thought about calling her in Missouri, just to see how she was doing? But he never had. How many times, driving east during his medical training, had he considered stopping in Hideaway to look her up? Especially when his own marriage had gone so wrong, and he’d found himself longing for simpler times.

“The Sheila I knew would never have purposely hit a dog,” he said, hoping to reassure her.

She grew still, her glance stabbing at him quickly before sliding away again. “The Sheila I know wouldn’t, either,” she snapped.

It disappointed him that she had taken his statement wrong.

“I’m sorry, Sheila, I’m just having trouble understanding everything that’s happened this—”

“Join the club,” she snapped. Immediately, she looked chagrined, staring down at her hands, strands of her dark, windblown hair falling across her face. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, sighed.

“I don’t know about you folks out here,” she said, “but a suspect is innocent until—”

“We folks out here care about our animals as much as you hillbillies back in Missouri,” Canaan said. He’d intended for that to sound like his old, teasing sarcasm, but for some reason it came out a little more sharply than he’d expected. Her irritation with him, when he was only trying to get to the truth, was not helpful.

Sheila’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes narrowed at him.

Oops. He knew that look. It’d been a while, but it still wasn’t a look he’d wanted to invoke from her.

“And you’re in charge here?” she muttered.

He grimaced. “For lack of a better leader.” Granddad had warned him that there would be days his mouth would get him into trouble. This was one of them. Backpedal, fast. “Sorry, Sheila, that was uncalled for.”

“You bet it was. You got something against Missourians?”

“Nope.”

“Fine. I’ve got nothing against the Navajo, and most of the time I don’t even hold it against men for being men, but I’m not about to let one manhandle me. The Canaan York I knew would never have tried.”

Okay, this wasn’t the Sheila he’d known as a child. Where had this hard streak of bitterness come from? “People change, then, don’t they?” he said softly.

“Yeah, they do. You didn’t used to have this chip on your shoulder.”

He wondered if his eyes might bug out of his head. He had a chip? “You’re adept at changing the subject.”

“Did you come here to talk to me about my new job, or just harass me about a dog?”

“Neither.” He hesitated. His recent suspicions were affecting his manners. “I’m the welcoming committee.”

She grimaced. For a moment, they stared at each other, then Canaan realized the ugly irony of those words. He grimaced. “I tried to give it a personal touch.”

Sheila raised a dark brow. “I’ll consider myself welcomed.” Her voice dripped sarcasm in every word. “This isn’t exactly what I expected.” Though her tone suggested that it might have been what she’d feared.

“I’ll try to do better.”

She nodded, then her shoulders dropped slightly. “Canaan, I’m very, very sorry about the kids’ dog. I don’t know what happened, and I don’t know what I can do about it now.” She clasped her hands and looked down at them pensively. “The trip must have taken more out of me than I expected it to. I thought I was up to this, but maybe not.”

Canaan waited.

She continued to stare at her hands. She said no more.

From the Navajo side of his ancestry, Canaan had learned to be comfortable with long stretches of silence during conversation. Busy, useless chatter bothered him. Sheila, obviously, would not inflict that annoyance on him. She used to be quite a talker. Until her mother’s death.

When she finally raised her head, he saw tears in her eyes.

He suppressed a groan. What now? Two crying females in one day. He was not ready for more tears.

“Sheila, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said—”

“Oh, stop it.” She dashed the tears away with an impatient swipe of her fingers. “Please get a different welcoming committee next time.”

He stood up. Time for a quick and merciful departure. “Why don’t you take a rest, and I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready in the cafeteria.”

“That’s an improvement. Why couldn’t you have said that when you first got here?” She stood and walked him to the door. She even managed a tentative smile, a well-remembered smile. With the quick jolt of recognition also came the memory of the sense of loss he’d felt for so many long weeks after she’d left.

He returned her smile. “See you in an hour or so.”

“Right. Thanks for the warning.”

The scent of death…it has haunted me for weeks. Even as I stand in the bright sunlight and watch the life that teems in the children at this great school, I catch that scent. The spirit of the wolf is rumored to enjoy death, and when that spirit comes over me, I catch that passion.

But when that spirit does come over me, I am no longer myself. I am the wolf. My voice changes, my back bows. I walk less upright. The skins I use to cover myself fit me as if they are my own fur. These fools who say there is no other spirit but the precious Lord they serve at this school…they understand so little of the true realm of power.

Let them keep believing there is no such power. The children know. The adults never believe them. And when an adult happens on the truth, I see to it—the spirit of the wolf sees to it—that this adult is silenced forever, no matter the loss to me.

I miss my hogan today, where the smoke of the cedar fire engulfs me like a magical caress. The winds of change drive the heat of the sun through this school and bring a growing threat to me. I must be ever more vigilant, not only to the task before me, but to detection. That would ruin all I have worked for in my life—and the deaths of others would be in vain. As always, though I work with others who also crave the wealth and power we have labored for all these years, I am alone. No one else truly understands the soul-searing power of the spirit of the wolf.