In the Arms of Stone Angels (17 page)

What Joe said hit me like a jolt of electricity. It charged through my body and tingled shame down my fingers and toes before it shot out from every follicle of my hair. It never felt right that White Bird was capable of killing, but with him kneeling over Heather with that damned bloody knife in his hand, what was a kid to think? I was fourteen then. And I thought I'd done the right thing by calling 911. Now Joe made me doubt everything.

“I hadn't said anything before now because I didn't want you to second-guess yourself and get distracted.”

“But I was the one who turned him in, Joe. Did I do the wrong thing?” I stared at the tips of my sneaks and everything blurred. I heard Joe's voice, but not what he said. I couldn't get past what I'd done. “They arrested him…because of me. If he was a witness, why didn't he tell them what he saw?”

“He couldn't. But now, with you, I think he's strong enough. You both are.” Joe pulled at the tie hanging around his neck and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He looked tired.

“I've learned to stop questioning the tests that are put in my path,” he said. “I think folks are given what they can handle and are stronger for it. You and White Bird have an extraordinary journey in front of you. Keep your eyes set on the horizon and quit looking over your shoulder. Guilt and regrets are a waste of time.”

I shut my eyes tight and took what he said into my brain, letting his message roll around in the void. When I opened them again, I was still shaky.

“I'm scared, Joe.”

“Just trust your feelings and follow your instincts.”

“My instincts? You got a plan B?”

Joe ignored me.

“Above all, you must believe that your gift is real. If you falter or doubt yourself, you could lose him. And there are no promises that you'll have a next time. Do you understand what I'm telling you?”

“I've got one shot? That's it?” I heaved a sigh. “So…no pressure.”

“One shot is all any of us have. Make it count.”

I didn't think he was talking about vision tripping anymore. Joe put a strong hand on the back of my neck and lent me his strength.

“You're very strong, Brenna. That's why he can reach you. You're like a beacon. Use the strength you share and rely on each other.”

He pulled my chin toward him to make his point.

“And believe in your bond,” he said. “Trust me when I tell you that you have a very special gift. You have no idea how extraordinary you are.”

I stared at Joe and filtered what he said through my bullshit detector. The guy wasn't blowing smoke, but he'd given me the equivalent of keys to a priceless Maserati, with only a five-minute pep talk on how to drive a stick shift.

“The doctor is on his way.” Mom came back with a grin. “He'll be here any minute.”

“Great. Just…great.” I swallowed, hard. Even though Joe had delivered a last-minute bombshell, it needed to be said. And if I had dwelled on his message overnight, who knows what a basket case I would have been by now.

I'd never gotten very far trusting my own instincts before. Guess there was a first time for everything.

Shawano Sheriff's Office—Afternoon

With a half-eaten sandwich sitting on his desk, Sheriff Matt Logan had called his sister's work number at the bank and had
to leave a message. She was in a meeting that would take her through the lunch hour and then some.

He was looking for Derek.

If the school year were underway, he'd know where to find his nephew, either at school or the football field. But with summer here, he needed help from his little sister. When she finally called him back, he was eager to talk to her.

“Hey, bro. You calling about the barbecue this weekend?” Before he answered, she kept talking. “Just come over whenever. We'll be cooking all day. And bring beer. That way you won't have to hit the store. I know you always have brewski on hand.”

“You know me too well. Sounds good.” He forced a smile into his voice to sound casual. “Hey, I'm looking for Derek. You know where I can find him? I've got chores at the house. And I could use his strong young back.”

“Emphasis on
young.
” She laughed. “Normally I couldn't tell you, but it's your lucky day.”

Matt didn't feel lucky.

“I just got off the phone with him,” she said. “He's working out in the garage with one of his buddies. The only thing that boy has on his mind these days is next football season.”

That's not the only thing,
he thought.

“Thanks, sis. I'll talk to you later.”

After he ended the call, he dumped the sandwich that was still on his desk and headed out. He went to the evidence lockup and waited for the desk clerk to leave before he went behind the secured door without bothering to sign in. It didn't take him long to find the Madsen box. He knew it well. After he pulled out the plastic bag with the watch in it, he put it in his pocket and slipped out to find Derek, not telling anyone where he was going.

The fewer who saw him leave, the better.

It took fifteen minutes to get to his sister's place. And when he pulled into the drive, he saw the garage door open. Derek and his sidekick Justin were lifting weights. For a split second, he caught a surprised expression on his nephew's face. The kid looked worried.

Being a cop, Matt knew what that look meant. He'd seen it plenty.
Damn it!

“Hey, Uncle Matt.” Derek waved as he walked toward his police cruiser. “What's up?”

The kid's face flushed red and his sudden color didn't appear to come from exertion.

Matt got out of his squad car and leaned on it with arms crossed. Justin had stayed in the garage pretending to be busy, but the kid kept eyeballing him. Normally Justin was real friendly. Not today.

Using his skills as a cop, he chatted his nephew up and got him feeling real comfortable. They talked about football and the family grill party on the weekend. And they even talked about girls. That's when he took a detour.

“Hey, what's up with that plastic watch? What happened to the one I bought you for Christmas a few years back?” He forced a smile. “I thought girls were into…bling.”

Derek looked down at his wrist and the red splotches on his face came back. The watch Matt had given his nephew had been a nice one. And the kid used to wear it all the time. A watch like that should have lasted him. But plain as day, the kid wore a cheap sports watch now.

“It's in my room. In my dresser.” He shrugged and laughed it off. “It's too nice to wear every day. You know, all the sweatin' and stuff.”

“Yeah, you're probably right.” Matt nodded. “Listen, your
mom has a phone number in her address book that I need to get. I know where it's at. I'll only be a minute.”

He headed through the garage door and into the house, without waiting for Derek to say anything. His nephew was probably exchanging nervous glances with Justin and whispering for him to keep his cool. Matt knew the drill.

Once he got inside his sister's house, he searched Derek's room looking for the watch. It wasn't in the dresser like he'd said, but Matt looked everywhere. The kid's room was a mess and smelled like feet. After ten minutes, he gave up his search. The watch he'd given his nephew was missing.

“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath and headed back to his cruiser.

On his way out, he decided not to confront his nephew. He had too much to consider. If Derek had been an official suspect, he would have pressed him harder. The kid was being evasive and his body language had given away telltale signs that the boy was hiding something. His gut instincts and experience told him that Derek had lied about the watch. But why?

Matt wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. And with his being responsible for the Madsen case, how far would he go to protect his own family?

Red Cliffs Hospital

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Dr. Ridgeway said.

Funny. He didn't look sorry.

The doctor led us behind the locked buzzer door to the detention unit and walked with a quick pace. His white coat whisked the air and I had a hard time keeping up. I never moved that fast.
Ever.

“An orderly is bringing him to an observation room. He
should be with us shortly.” The doc smiled over his shoulder as he walked, dangling White Bird as a carrot. “You'll be able to see him through a two-way mirror. He won't know you're there.”

“But—” When I opened my mouth, Joe raised a finger and took charge.

“We'll need to talk to him. Pray over him. If that's a problem, I'll take it up with the tribal council…and the media.”

“No need for threats, Mr. Sunne. You'll have time with him, but I'll be observing from the next room. And I'll step in if I determine it's necessary. Understood?” He didn't wait for an answer.

When the doctor opened a door and went into a small dark room off the hall, I took off my sunglasses and grabbed Joe's arm, mouthing the words, “What the hell?” And Mom did a silent double take. Although Joe and I hadn't worked out any signal, I was fairly sure he understood my WTF distress call.

The last time I touched White Bird, it had been powerful. Inside his hellish vision, it was pure torture. And I had no idea if my body mirrored what I was doing in that waking nightmare. I was afraid if I screamed or tumbled through the black void again, that I'd be fitted for a straitjacket. I'd look like I was having a fit.

Behind the doctor's back, Joe held up a hand, a signal for me to hold on. I knew he wanted me to trust him. And I did. It was the tall guy in white that I had problems with. I turned my back on the two men behind me and stared into the empty room next door, the one White Bird would be brought to. And with my nose pressed to the glass, I pictured him there.

I trusted Joe. I really did.

“Can you share what you've tried for treatments?” Joe asked the doc.

“That's confidential, I'm afraid.”

“Then what's his prognosis, Doctor? Surely you can answer that?” Joe insisted. “I've got to report back to the tribal council that White Bird is receiving the proper care.”

Joe had picked his words well. The word
proper
riled Dr. Ridgeway. It showed on his face. And the man definitely didn't like being second-guessed, especially by a Shaman.

“We've tried everything. The normal protocols have had no effect.” Dr. Ridgeway took a deep breath and let doubt show in his eyes. It made him look human. “Quite frankly, I'm at a loss. That's why when Ms. Nash got the boy to look at her, that was a real breakthrough.”

The doctor turned his attention to me.

“I don't know what your relationship is with this boy, but he really needs your help. If we can get his attention and keep it, we may see results finally. I'm not talking about a complete cure, just a first step toward recovery. What do you say?”

“You may not want to talk about a cure today, but I do.” Joe narrowed his eyes at the man. I'd seen that look before. “Tell me, Doctor. Are you a betting man?”

“What?”

“Stacked up against all your science and this fancy hospital, would you bet money that a sixteen-year-old girl and one old Indian could completely cure this boy?”

“You mean, right here and now? Today?”

“Yes.” Joe nodded and his lip twitched. “Superstition against science.”

Joe had lured the man like catfish to stink bait.

He knew that stacked up against Dr. Ridgeway being in charge with a tight stranglehold on White Bird as a patient,
we wouldn't stand a chance at coloring outside the lines. But with his “superstition versus science” bet, the doc might give us more leeway. I held my breath waiting to see what Ridgeway would say.

“You want to place a wager on the boy's health?” Dr. Ridgeway grimaced and acted like he was above being goaded into a silly wager. But after Joe nodded, the doc said, “You're on. What's the bet?”

“Oh, brother.” I rolled my eyes at Mom. “No pressure.”

That's when I heard a door creak in the next room. I turned in time to see a Hispanic guy dressed in a white uniform rolling in a boy slumped in a wheelchair. The sight of White Bird made my heart lurch with every ounce of joy and every stab of pain I had ever felt for him. I wanted him to be that boy by the creek, the tall one with the gentle hands, the soft voice and the sad knowing eyes.

But he wasn't.
Not like this.

I pressed my forehead to the two-way mirror and touched my hand to the cold glass. It was impossible to forget he was trapped in the past—a past we shared. And now I had to have faith in something I'd never believed in before.
Me.

The gravity of what we were attempting hit me hard and I couldn't breathe. I had to save him.
I had to.

Red Cliffs Hospital

Dr. Ridgeway finished giving Joe last-minute instructions on what he expected from us—
his rules
—but all I heard was,
“Wa, wa, wah, waaah.”
My eyes were fixed on White Bird sitting alone in the next room until I forced myself to turn away and look for Joe.

When my eyes met his, words weren't necessary. And the nod of his head was subtle. I wasn't even sure I'd seen Joe move at all. His gesture drifted between us like a puff of smoke, there one minute and gone the next. With eyes the color of shiny obsidian, he held my attention like the first time we'd met, when I was afraid of him.

Only this time, I drew from his strength.

Mom was the one who needed words. “Are you ready, honey?” she asked.

Even though Mom had good intentions, her voice doused me with ice water. I loved her, but she wasn't part of this. She'd
always be an innocent bystander. And I hadn't realized how true that was until now. For her sake, I nodded and forced a smile, but I kept my eyes on Joe.

He was my gatekeeper.

He was the one I trusted to get me through this.

And he was the one who would save us both, if we weren't already too late.

I heard the white noise of the doctor talking again as he led Joe and me out the observation room door. We were about to join White Bird in the next room. I took a deep breath before the doctor opened that door and without thinking, I grabbed for the pinkie of Joe's hand. I clutched both hands around his finger as if it was the most natural thing to do. Joe didn't look as if he minded being my lifeline.

When the door opened with its annoying creak, the doctor let us in but didn't stay. Even though Mom and the doc would be listening in the next room, we were finally alone with White Bird and I saw him for real this time. His back was to me. And his head was slumped forward as he slouched in his wheelchair. I moved across that room, not knowing how I did it. I was just there, kneeling in front of him, too afraid to touch him—knowing what even the slightest contact would start.

Dressed in a pale blue robe with white pajamas and slippers, he smelled like soap, fresh laundry and the unforgettable aroma of boy. I breathed him in and held my breath to keep him inside. When my lungs burned, I let him out and went for seconds. His dark hair was still damp. It had grown and curled at his neck. Finger worthy. And his half-lidded brown eyes stared at the floor, a sweet gift that was wasted on hospital linoleum.

I fought the persistent lump of guilt wedged in my throat
and White Bird's face blurred with my tears. I wiped them away to see him.

“Hey, it's me.”

This time I didn't say my name and introduce myself as if we were strangers, like I'd done before. Too much had happened since then. He'd invaded my dreams too many times.

“Joe Sunne is here…but maybe you know that.”

I whispered the last part, so the doctor in the next room wouldn't hear me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Joe take off his jacket and tie and toss them onto the only table in the room. When he rolled up his sleeves, Joe looked ready, but I sure wasn't. I wanted White Bird to lift his head and see me, without needing the intimacy of my touch to know I was there, but that didn't happen. And it scared me that I didn't feel him like I did when I dreamed.

Maybe Joe was right—it was too late.

Doubts were killing me and poisoning my mind. My gut instinct told me to focus and shove the negativity aside. And when I looked at Joe, he nodded at me again, as if he'd read my mind. But this time when the man opened his mouth, he mesmerized me when he spoke.

He chanted the nearly forgotten Euchee language and it sounded like an ancient prayer. With each word, I heard the distant thunder again and I felt a spark of energy surge through me. I knew that strong sensation came from Joe. Spirit Walker was his Indian name. When the Shaman eased around White Bird, he waved his dark hands over him with his eyes closed.

But when I felt this incredible urge to touch White Bird, the room blurred to an intense brilliant white. I gasped and squinted, raising my hand to shield my eyes. Still sitting head down and slumped in his chair, he was the center of the light.
I couldn't tell if he'd caused it to appear or if Joe had summoned it. The boy in the wheelchair was all I saw, until he slowly ebbed away like low tide.

The intense light was feeding on his edges and sucking him into the milky void. I had to make it stop. I had to keep him from disappearing. I reached for his hand and pulled with all my strength, like a treacherous game of tug-of-war.

But when we touched, everything went black. And deathly still. I didn't feel White Bird anymore.

I'd lost him.

 

Dr. Ridgeway watched the Native Shaman and the girl react to seeing Isaac Henry. He knew in an instant that the girl was in love. Maybe that was all this visit was—a girl who wanted to see her first love before he got sent to jail for the rest of his life.

It was a good thing he hadn't called the sheriff about the kid's visitors today. His old friend Matt Logan would have given him hell if he'd made a trip to the hospital for no good reason. Matt didn't like calling attention to the fact that Isaac Henry was confined to a mental ward with criminal charges still pending.

“Something's happening in there. I can see it, sort of.” The girl's mother stepped closer to the observation window and put her fingers on the glass. “Is it hot in there? Joe's got sweat on his forehead. What's happening to them?”

Although Kate Nash had a better view, Ridgeway did a double take into the observation room and looked closer. Sunne had blocked his view with raised arms and his back darkened the two-way mirror. The man's body was rigid and his head shook with strain. And the girl was kneeling in front
of the Indian boy. Her hands gripped his so tightly that her knuckles were blanched.

But something much more interesting was happening to the boy.

Once again, Isaac Henry had straightened his head and stared into the eyes of Brenna Nash. With eyes wide, the kid looked fully aware, except for the fact that he hadn't moved. His face was ghostly white and his mouth was gaped open. Whatever he saw in the girl had terrified him.

“I gotta make a call.” Ridgeway yanked his cell phone off his belt. “I'll be right outside. Come get me if anything changes.”

Kate Nash yelled as he left the room. “What are you doing? You can't leave now.”

As the door shut behind him, he hit speed dial for Sheriff Logan. When the man answered, he didn't bother to identify himself. “Matt, you gotta get out here. Now! That Nash girl is in with Isaac Henry. And I think he's coming out of it.”

Ridgeway didn't wait to hear what his friend would say. He ended the call to the sheriff and went back inside the room, joining Mrs. Nash by the two-way mirror. His mind catapulted into the future and he envisioned writing a book on what he was witnessing. He had to know more.

And with Sunne making a bet with him, the Euchee Shaman knew this would happen. How could he have been so sure? Ridgeway had way too many questions to break this up now. He had to see it through.

“This is…amazing,” he gasped.

The Indian kid had never reacted this way in any of his treatments. His head now lolled from side to side and his breathing had escalated, but Isaac Henry looked as if he was
on the verge of waking up. He was coming out of a stupor he'd endured for the past two years.

Whatever this was, it was truly remarkable.

“Shouldn't you do something?” Kate Nash kept her eyes fixed on her daughter.

Ridgeway had no idea what to tell her. The woman had no appreciation for what was happening. They were witnessing a major breakthrough that could mean a boost to his career. What was going on in the next room was beyond the medicine he'd studied. And being a man of science, he had to know more.

He wasn't about to stop it now.

 

After White Bird vanished before my eyes, I lost track of time. I saw nothing and an aching emptiness filled me up. I wondered if this was what death felt like—a vast barren abyss where time meant nothing—where a soul in limbo waited for something to happen, only vaguely aware of its existence. Wherever I was felt like a one-way trip. I was a lab rat in a maze with only one way out. I had focused so much on helping White Bird that I never imagined that touching him would blow up in my face. What if I never found him and got stuck here?

Suddenly, I missed Mom. And I wanted my crappy life back.

So I got down to the business of survival. I had to focus on something. The sooner I found him, the sooner we could put our heads together and find our way out. Joe had said to rely on the bond we had and I believed him.

And when I heard the steady beat of my heart, I knew I'd been wrong about being dead. I felt better already. But even with me hearing the blood rushing through my veins,
everything else was oddly still. And with sounds muffled in the dense vacuum, I resisted the urge to call out White Bird's name. I didn't think he'd hear me. I sensed he was too far away.

But not so far that I couldn't draw him from my memory and imagine him.

An image of him flashed in my mind. I saw his face wavering in front of me like a ripple on water, but he disappeared as fast as he came. I wasn't strong enough to hold him. Was that how White Bird had done it? Had he just imagined me asleep in my room and linked to me that way? Maybe he'd been too weak to hold me long enough to find his way home.

When my head filled with memories of him, a warm feeling welled inside me and I felt his presence—really felt him—all around me and through me. I'd never experienced such peace. And the rich smell of the earth and a faint aroma of pine bark and wildflowers reminded me of the shelter he'd made by the creek, even though I couldn't see anything but a bleak white. I wanted to believe these triggers were meant to calm me, that they were a message from him to let me know he was with me, but maybe that was only wishful thinking.

Where are you?

I concentrated on finding him, trusting my senses to point me in a direction. But when I peered through the brilliant white, I felt a growing tension behind my eyes that sent shards of pain shooting through my head. I'd never experienced snow blindness, but that's how I imagined it would start.

Or maybe my throbbing discomfort was a warning that I was not welcome here.

I hovered like a weightless mass of molecules, connected and yet not. I felt the confines of my body and yet I was connected to everything, as far as I could see. Even the vast expanse of
time didn't feel like a barrier. I wasn't a kid in this place. I was a sentient being without age, linked to the past yet driven toward the future.

And I didn't think like the girl that I used to be, not exactly. I was the same, yet different. Like I understood the word
sentient
without having to look it up on Wikipedia, but I also totally knew all the lyrics to Kimya Dawson's “I Like Giants” song. A real crowd-pleaser for someone who hung out with weirdos like me. The way I felt reminded me of what White Bird had described years before when he first told me about keeping an open mind to the messages of the universe and about being connected to the past and present.

Had his obsession with his tribe and mystical dream symbols created the illusion that trapped him here now? Or had he truly found his way here because it existed like an alternate universe?

I picked a direction without a point of reference in the stark white. I moved as straight as I could and hoped I wouldn't be traveling in circles. After what felt like an eternity, I came across something of substance.

It knocked me on my ass.

My face smashed into an invisible barrier that felt like I'd run into closed sliding glass doors. The impact messed me up so bad that when I fell down I stayed down. I lay there in shock, wondering. If I was so hooked into the past
and
the future in this place, why hadn't I seen
that
coming?
Shit!
I rubbed my nose and waited for the Fourth of July sparklers to stop spinning over my head.

When I finally got up, I placed both hands in front of me to feel what I'd hit. Everywhere I turned, my fingers found a solid surface that mirrored the bleak dreamscape. I had run out
of places to go and stood on the edge of White Bird's vision, getting mad.

What was the point of imagining a dreamworld with boundaries? I'd had enough of peace and tranquility. I balled my fists and pounded the invisible wall. And when that felt good, I kicked it, too. Mom always said that when I was in her belly, I had mad skills with my feet. So I got after it, kicking and hitting that damned wall until I felt it give way and a burst of color shot through. It streaked in like a laser beam.

“Holy shit!” I squinted and tried to peek through the crack, but that wasn't happening. I'd have to do more.

I pushed my way through the white serenity wall. And when I climbed in, a rush of heat swept over me. It was muggy hot, but I felt White Bird here, more than ever. I had to be in the right place. That was a good thing, because when I looked back the way I'd come, the stark white was gone. One door had opened and another one had slammed shut in my face. There was no going back, even if I wanted to.

But this new dreamscape really got my attention.

“Oh, wow,” I gasped as I looked around.

Everything was in vivid 3-D and insanely cool. I stood in the middle of a beautiful yet eerie forest. And the colors were intense, like I'd had a black-and-white TV my whole life and now I saw everything through a color plasma screen. But with the serene world of white gone, I knew there had been a barrier for a reason. On this side of White Bird's vision, there was evil. And it lurked beyond where I could see. I don't know how I knew this, but I did. I tasted danger and it seeped through my pores.