Dark Witness (11 page)

The old woman walked out of the lodge and then the mile and some feet back to her house. When she had put away her
amaut
and good moccasins, hung up her good sweater and put on her apron, Mama Cecilia sat on her bed with the letter in her lap. She closed her eyes and considered that the girl might be no better than her father because she asked only for money and not after Mama Cecilia. Then she thought that perhaps Priscilla Wolf Skin might be wiser than Mama gave her credit for. Perhaps a journey together would be good for her son. They would know one another again. If he was walking with her then he could not drink.

She would go tell him. She would smile and help put things in a case for him. She would do everything that needed to be done, and all he would need to do would be to put his feet on the ground and hold her hand.

Mama got off the bed. She went down the short hall to tell her son of these plans, but even before she went into the room Mama Cecilia saw that things were different. The door to her son's room was open wide. Mama looked in and saw that the clothes that had been there were gone.

She made no exclamation of surprise. Instead, she went to look in the wallet that she kept beside her bed in the drawer. Her money was gone. Her son was gone. Mama sat on the bed again because the weight of her heavy heart was too much and she could not remain upright.

After a minute, Mama Cecilia raised her legs and lay down on her neatly made bed. She stared up at the ceiling, crossed her hands over her chest and clasped the letter from her granddaughter beneath them. She listened in case her son should come back and have a cheap present bought with her own money instead of running away to nowhere.

The door did not open.

He did not bring her a present.

He was gone.

Mama Cecilia closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. Soon it looked as if she were dead. But she was only waiting for her good spirits to guide her. When they did her good moccasins would take her where she needed to go.

CHAPTER 9

Andre Guillard sat up in bed, the sheets and blankets falling away to reveal his wondrously naked body. Nell's house was chilly, but for a man used to sleeping out in the open it felt downright toasty. The fire in the potbellied stove in the corner of the room was still burning and Nell was giving off a goodly amount of body heat herself.

She rolled over, opened her eyes, and pushed herself up. She wore a t-shirt, more out of habit than necessity she told Andre the first time she suggested that they indulge in a little 'chatting' when he was in the neighborhood. Andre thought colleagues-with-benefits was not a bad idea; benefits with Nell were special, indeed. Of all the women he had ever met, it was Nell he admired most. She was older than he but that was part of her charm. She was funny, not frivolous; she was thoughtful never overbearing; she could fix a plane or please a man; she knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to ask for it. He would trust her with his back out in the wild, and he treasured her affection within these walls.

The only annoyance between them was the way they looked. Nell was far too aware of her age and far too clueless about her true beauty. He had never really seen what all the fuss was about. His face and his body were what they were. It wasn't like he'd done anything to earn them so he couldn't take credit. For her part, Nell just wanted to make sure he had an out – which he never seemed to want. She loved Andre Guillard because he was simply Andre, and she assumed he must love her a little just because she was plain old Nell.

"Morning." Nell touched him lightly, somewhere between his last rib and his hip. He put his hand on her head and mused her hair.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he said.

"What time are you taking off?"

"An hour. Maybe two."

"I'll get you some breakfast." Nell pushed off her side of the sheets, swinging around to kiss him and then back the other way so she could get out of bed. She said: "You are welcome."

Andre laughed as she took her robe and left the room. He showered but his mind was still unsettled. He had been restless in the night, and he still was when he sat down to bacon, eggs, and toast.

"You shouldn't have used 'em up on me, Nell," Andre said even though the scrambled eggs were just what he needed.

"Next time you're out bring me some or you'll be on the powdered stuff."

"I'm not picky," Andre answered.

"I could take that the wrong way, my friend," Nell said.

"Don't." He closed his eyes as the first forkful went into his mouth and gave her a 'yum'. She laughed, which pleased Andre to no end.

"By the way, thanks for the nuts. I found them after you left. Didn't save you even one." She got up and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee, leaned her hip on the counter, and looked out the window. "It's a good thing I got you out when I did. It's going to be brutal in a while. I can't remember the last time we had weather like this so early."

"HazMat won't be able to get that stuff any time soon, then." Andre glanced toward the window.

"No one else will be able to either, so at least you don't have to worry about it." Nell turned away and mumbled into her coffee. "I'm going to be grounded all week. If you don't get your rear in gear, you're going to be stuck here with me."

"There are worse places to be snowed in." Andre picked up his plate and put it in the sink. He filled his cup. "Unfortunately, my team could get me home no matter what, much as I wouldn't mind telling the boss I was stuck."

"You're a sweet talker, Andre. You should think about writing poetry," she chuckled.

Andre set his cup aside, took her around the waist and pulled her close. Nell held her cup high, and he flashed her a bright white smile.

"Roses are red, violets are blue, if I'm stuck in the snow, it better be with you."

Andre nuzzled her neck and Nell's throaty laugh dissolved into giggles as his beard tickled her skin. For a guy who didn't care much for people, he sure had a way with them. She threw her arm around his neck, pulled back, and grinned.

"It's a good thing we've got you tucked away out here. Unleashing your charm on the rest of the world would cause riots."

Andre let her go, took his coffee, and sat down at the table again. "I'd be in the loony bin if I still lived out there."

"Are you all packed up?"

"Yep."

They made lazy conversation before it petered out completely. The small talk never lasted more than a few minutes so Andre's silence was nothing new to Nell, but this time his quiet was telling.

"What's on your mind? You didn't sleep well."

"I keep thinking about the back of that truck and the dried blood. And the duffle; that duffle doesn't make a whole lot of sense. What do you make of that?"

Nell shrugged. "Could be the driver's bag and he threw it in the back, but it's got women's clothes in it. Maybe that was for his wife or girlfriend."

"Could be, but there were some guy's shirts, too," Andre answered.

"Half the time I wear men's clothes. I don't even own a dress." Nell sat down with him. Her robe was wearing thin. He made a note to pick one up for her next time he got into Fairbanks.

"I'd like to see you in a dress," Andre said. "You'd look great."

"Maybe in my next life," Nell answered. "Still, if someone was hitching why toss her stuff in the back? There was plenty of room up front. And if she had the duffle, why toss her in the back? And, if that's where she was, where is she now?"

"I think she was a passenger. The passenger window was open. She could have survived the fall and crawled out that way," Andre speculated.

"Any blood in the cab?" Nell asked.

Andre shook his head. "Only in the container."

"I don't know what to tell you." Nell twirled her cup on the saucer and played along. "Somebody was around because that padlock didn't open itself. I didn't see anything from the air. I suppose someone could have picked her up – if she exists. It's a mystery for sure"

"River's not too far away. Still, you'd have to know that. Someone who didn't could get lost real easy. Far as I know, there's not even a hermit out there to help. There isn't a lot of boat traffic now, so even if she made it to the river who would pick her up?"

They both thought about that for a while and the silence between them was still lopsided. Nell wasn't curious and Andre was bothered. As far as she was concerned, there were things on heaven and earth she would never figure out. It seemed like a waste of energy to try. She didn't think about why she'd been born or how she'd die, she was more curious about why things happened over and over again. Why the human race didn't learn from the past was beyond her. Why a duffle bag with clothes in it was in the back of a container truck was not a real worry.

"You're right. It all probably adds up to nothing." Andre pushed his cup aside. "Do you want me to leave it here? Maybe there's something in that bag that you can use."

She shook her head. "You should take it back with you. It's logged, and you have to turn in your report. Given the stuff you found in those boxes, that duffle might be some kind of material evidence." There was a beat and Nell asked, "Did you go through the whole thing?"

"Not really," Andre finished off the last of his toast.

"Maybe there's some I.D. If he was carrying a passenger, there might be family who would be awfully grateful to hear what you've found."

Nell got up. Her slippers flapped on the hard wood floor, went silent on the rug, and gave one last slap as she stopped at the desk, reached underneath, and grabbed the bag she had stashed near Andre's gear. She unzipped it as she brought it back to the table, pulling things out as she went.

"Whoever these belong to must never eat. What is this?" She laughed and fumbled with the shirt she had pulled out as the bag landed on the table. "A size two? Who in the hell is a two?"

She tossed the t-shirt on a chair and brought out a blue sweater, another t-shirt, and underwear. The latter she held up for Andre to see.

"Expensive even if they aren't fancy and about five sizes too small for me. I think your driver was taking this stuff back to a little sweetie somewhere. Nell tossed out a man's t-shirt. It was worn and faded but the logo of a surf shop was still visible. She added a pair of boxer shorts, a brush, and a thin blanket to the pile.

"What have we here?" Nell held up a sleek and expensive cell phone.

"Is it charged?" Andre pushed back his chair. Nell poked at the buttons.

"It's charged. No passcode." She tapped the phone a few more times. "Hannah's phone. No last name."

"Does she have any messages?" Andre asked.

Nell tapped the screen. "Three from the same number. The most recent was a month ago. Shall I call it?"

Andre motioned for her to go ahead, and Nell's eyes sparkled as if she was doing something naughty. She hit redial, put the phone to her ear, and listened.

"It's ringing."

She held it toward Andre. On the other end a woman picked up. She said:

"Hannah?"

Andre Guillard, Alaska State Trooper said:

"To whom am I speaking?"

***

"Robert, give it to me. Seriously. Right now. Nobody can stand looking at you in it anymore."

Melody tapped her foot as she waited outside Robert's room, calling through the closed door. The arrival of Hannah and Billy had been so exciting a few days ago, but the excitement had worn thin. Duncan's directive that those two be catered to did not seem exactly right to her. She had no problem caring for them, but Duncan had spent their community
Hours
preaching about their angelic nature. Even though Melody had bowed and raised her voice in praise, she knew that this time he was wrong. Those two weren't angels. They were very hurt people and would heal on their own unlike the rest of the congregation.

Not that Duncan was untruthful, he could never be that, but he had been led astray. Pea had led him astray, or he had not heard her correctly, or something. And Duncan had not spoken of the healing since Hannah and Billy had been found. They had been promised healing when the weather turned. Well, it had turned and now there wasn't a peep about when she – they – would be made whole.

Melody couldn't think about it anymore. She had chores to do. Regular chores and more chores for the two 'angels.' It all just made her so darn angry and that was the last thing she wanted to be.

"Robert! Robert!" she called and pounded on the door until it was flung open. There he was in all his gigantic glory wearing a sweater pulled out of shape and still too small for him; a sweater soiled from food droppings.

"Don't call so loud, Melody. I'm in
Hours
."

"You're never in
Hours
," she scoffed. "You think I don't know what you do when you're supposed to be in
Hours
? I've seen you through the window. You make faces at your reflection. You don't pray."

Robert looked behind at the small window in his very small room. Desperately he tried to deduce what he might have been doing in front of that window, and exactly when Melody had been outside to see him do it. He whipped his head back to her.

"I didn't mean to, Melody. I didn't. I just try to see what I would look like," Robert insisted, near tears as he pleaded. He hated when Melody was upset because her voice wasn't so pretty anymore. She sounded like she hated him. She sounded like his mother, and that made things so very difficult. He just wanted to smash her face in when she sounded like that. Instead, he said: "Don't tell Duncan. He won't believe you, anyway. I found the angels and brought them here, so he won't believe you. He said I was blessed."

"Be quiet. Be quiet," Melody snapped. "I won't tell, but give me your jacket. I have to try to clean it. Give it to me now."

"I'm supposed to go to work after
Hours
. Can't you do tonight?" Robert whined.

"No. I don't want to work all day and all night."

Seeing that fighting with her was useless, he lumbered over to the one chair in the room. He picked up his jacket, came back, and shoved it at her.