No Mercy Part 40

I pulled off to the side of the road, expecting him to jump out and run like h.e.l.l.

He didn't. He fiddled with the straps on his backpack. "It was s.h.i.+tty, what I said to you. I know you're not any more responsible for Sue Anne getting killed than I am for bringing her into the group in the first place."

Seemed I wasn't the only one suffering from guilt.

"So I just wanted to say thanks for the ride. And I'm sorry about Levi. He was... cool."

I nodded.

Axel opened the door. He paused.

I held my breath. Please. Please help me.

His knuckles were white where he gripped the dash. "Know what? You're right. I'm sick of this s.h.i.+t. Out County Road Nineteen, about eight miles past that old ranch where them religious freaks took over, there's a National Gra.s.slands sign. Go about another half mile closer to the rez, where the land turns hilly and there's a deep ditch on the left side. Straight down that steep hill, along the bottom of a dried up creekbed, are some trees and stuff. Where the bushes end is a flat spot with a fire pit ringed with stones. That's where we're meeting tonight with the leaders. Just after dusk." He bailed out of the truck and took off across the field.

I spun a cookie in the road and headed home. I wasn't exactly sure of the area Axel had been talking about, but I knew someone who would be. "Hey, boss. I need your Indian tracking skills. Can you pick me up at my house in an hour?"

Rollie and I didn't talk much after I filled him in on what I'd learned from Axel. We both knew it wasn't my expert PI skills that'd gotten me to this point, but sheer dumb luck.

We b.u.mped along, seemed we were counting the miles by inches. The road curved sharply and the terrain went from level to hilly. Rollie slowed and parked in a pull-off in front of a set of grooved tracks, which disappeared over the edge of the hill. "I'm pretty sure it's down there."

"You coming?"

"Nope. I'm too d.a.m.n old to go traipsing around in the muck. I'll wait here and play lookout. If I honk the horn, stay put."

I hiked down the hillside to find a spot close enough to the action so I could hear and see what was going on tonight, but far enough away that I'd be part of the scenery.

At the bottom, in a flat area sc.r.a.ped clear of foliage, sat a fire pit ringed with the large flat stones Axel mentioned. Smaller white ones lined the inside. Were those the rocks Chet told me he'd seen the guys hauling? Is this where they performed all the rituals?

My gaze scanned the terrain. A couple of boulders had tumbled down and were imbedded in the rocky slope, but weren't big enough to hide behind. I homed in on the spa.r.s.e scrub oak bushes scattered along the back of the draw.

I could enter about two hundred yards down from the ridge. Seemed to be my best option. To test the theory, I crawled from the backside through the underbrush, pus.h.i.+ng aside decaying leaves and breaking off low-lying branches so I'd have an un.o.bstructed view. I mentally marked my spot and hiked up to my access point, leaving a clear set of footprints to Rollie's truck, in case the Warrior Society members were practicing Indian tracking skills.

"Well?" he demanded.

"I'll be shaving it close to keep them from seeing me, but I'm sure I can make it work. If not, and they do see the whites of my eyes... I doubt any of them can outrun me." None of them could outshoot me, but it probably wasn't smart to bring that up.

"Good." Rollie aimed the truck at the ditch and spun a U-turn. "Now, when you come out here tonight, make sure you don't drive past and miss it."

"You have a string or something I could use as a marker? Since I'll be coming from the other direction?"

"Check under the seat."

I unearthed a piece of white nylon rope. I jumped out intending to comb the ditch for a stick.

The driver door slammed. "Hang on, I've got a stake." Rollie rooted around in the truck bed, holding out a short chunk of metal as thick as a piece of rebar.

"This'll work." The parched earth had little give, but I screwed it in deep enough so the wind wouldn't blow it over. I tied the cord around the top. No one would see my flag unless they were specifically looking for it.

After we'd returned to the truck, Rollie said, "You gonna sneak in, using some of them stealth tactics Uncle Sam taught you, eh?"

"That's the plan."

He opened his mouth. Shut it. Fumbled for another cigarette. Still, he didn't speak his mind. He puffed away as we tooled down the gravel road in silence. It freaked me out a little because Rollie rarely curbed his tongue.

"Spit it out, Rollie."

"What are you gonna do? Especially if you hear something about them killing Levi? Pull out your Desert Eagle and mow 'em all down? Show 'em 'No Mercy' h.e.l.l-bent on vengeance?"

Feeling belligerent that he'd found a flaw in my plan, I retorted, "If I do, it's no less than what they deserve."

He shook his head, staring at me, his eyes bleak, his weathered red face wrinkled with concern.

"Jesus. What now?"

"If you are capable of ma.s.s execution, then you ain't no different than the terrorists you been fighting the last few years. Think about it before you do something you can't undo."

Rollie flipped on the radio. Conway Twitty's "Tight Fitting Jeans" effectively ended all conversation.

We didn't exchange another word until we said good-bye as he dropped me off at the top of the driveway.

Dog-tired, I trudged upstairs. I had a long night behind me and I might have a long night ahead of me. I crawled between the sheets, still tangled from my romp with Dawson, and conked out.

Around dusk I donned gray-and-black camouflage. Tied my hair in a ponytail and swirled greasepaint on my face. I loaded the pockets of my flack jacket: binoculars, Bowie knife, my Browning High Power, my Sig, and an extra clip for each just in case. Rollie's warning flashed in my mind. What would I do if I heard a confession?

Worry about it if and when it happened.

It weirded me out, dressing for recon in my frilly, floral bedroom. Seemed I'd performed this ritual in another lifetime. Last time I'd been in Iraq. Last time I'd been 100 percent.

The disjointed sensation lingered as I climbed into the truck. I didn't play the radio. My mind blanked, my sole concentration on breathing slow and deep so it would look like I wasn't breathing at all.

I cruised the edge of the road. The second my headlights caught the flash of white, I parked in the ditch and turned off the engine. Cut the interior light, slipped out the pa.s.senger door and eased down the steep incline.

The ground was mucky from the rain. My boots felt like cement blocks from the caked-on mud. When I reached the spot where I'd cleaned out the underbrush, I belly-crawled into position on my elbows.

Seven figures were crouched around the bonfire. I didn't recognize anyone with my naked eye so I pulled out my binoculars.

The attendees had coated their faces with red and white war paint, making it hard to tell who was who. Moser stood st.u.r.dy as a tree. The sunken chest belonged to Randall. Short one, Little Bear. Bulky guy... Bucky. Axel was tasked with dragging material for the fire from the outskirts of the group. A broad-shouldered man sat with his back to me. His face was aimed at the rocks, so I couldn't see it.

A strange feeling unfurled in my gut.

The guy standing, doing all the talking, seemed familiar, but I couldn't place him either. I listened.

"-making such a big deal about it."

"We're making a big deal because our friends are dead. And you can't give us no good reason why. This wasn't 'sposed to be part of it. Albert's accident-"

"Yeah," Moser interrupted. "We shoulda told the cops the truth about what happened. Now people are talking. Chasing us down and asking questions. Thinking we're killing people. Ain't gonna be long before-"

"Did your ancestors surrender when faced with adversity? Remember what happened to Lakota warriors when they practiced their religious rituals? They were slaughtered. If anyone knew, especially law enforcement, that a bunch of young Indian males were renewing some of those sacred rites, it wouldn't matter whether or not Albert's death was accidental. They'd arrest you." He pointed to each person. "All of you. You'd spend the rest of your lives in the penitentiary."

No one answered him.

I'd heard that voice before. Where?

Axel tossed the pile of tumbleweeds on the fire. A flash of eager yellow flames engulfed the desiccated plant, instantly burning it into red coals. As he poked the embers, he said, "We ain't talking about Albert. We're talking about the others. Did you kill them? Levi and Sue Anne?"

Everyone jabbered at once.

The big man stood, lifted his arm to the sky. Metal glinted in the fire's orange glow. He fired in the air. Twice.

Immediate silence.

My heart pounded like a tom-tom. Not many men that size in this county. Three I knew of off the top of my head. One was dead. One worked for the man who'd threatened me. One had woken in my bed this morning. The man started to turn-I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut-but I kept the binoculars trained on him. Even as my hands shook and the pitiful mantra of please don't let it be him began a loop in my head.

The brightness of the fire illuminated the man's wrinkled red face. Not Dawson, thank G.o.d.

Hiram Blacktower.

But my relief was short-lived when I realized the man Hiram was talking to, the man in charge, was Hope's boyfriend, Theo Murphy.

NINETEEN.

As soon as I swallowed the sourness rising up the back of my throat, I was d.a.m.n glad I hadn't brought my sniper rifle. I imagined Theo's face in the crosshairs of my scope. One trigger click and his head would explode like a watermelon.

Breathe.

I refocused. Chaos ruled. Moser shouted accusations at Theo. Bucky and Little Bear were pointing and yelling at Hiram. Randall sat on a rock, rocking, his arms wrapped around his up-drawn knees. Axel watched the scene unfold with strangely wise eyes, stirring the coals out of reflex, not need.

Hiram raised his gun and fired again.

Silence fell.

Theo said, "Thank you, honored leader."

Axel snickered.

Theo whirled on him. "Have something to say, Axel?"

"To you? Yeah. This is bulls.h.i.+t. I don't know why you're in the Warrior Society anyway. You ain't Sioux." He spoke in Lakota to Hi.

Hiram shook his head.

Theo snapped, "In English."

Guess I wasn't the only one who didn't understand the language.

Axel didn't look at Theo. Nor did he miss a beat when he switched to English and addressed Moser. "Didja invite them 'cause they offered to buy us booze? Is that really what the Warrior Society is about? Getting drunk and letting anyone in as long as they bring us a suitcase of Coors? Shee. How's that make us different from the rez gangs, eh? Just 'cause we ain't selling meth don't mean what we been doing is right."

Moser twitched. Little Bear angled his head from the fire, leaving his face in shadow.

My rage festered in the surreal stillness.

"We were doing just fine on our own. For a while, I was even proud of the group we started. A place where we talked about our Lakota heritage, learned our traditions. Ever since Moser brought in this white motherf.u.c.ker"-he pointed at Theo-"and this half-baked half-breed"-he aimed his slender finger at Hiram-"they've taken over. Now they're dressing in buckskin and war paint? Telling us how to be Indian? How screwed up is that?

"Some of our kolas are dead and these guys are saying so what? Ain't that what we were trying to get away from on the rez and everywhere else? Adult white folks dismissing us as worthless thugs? Or savages?"

Bucky said, "Axel's right. That horse coulda thrown any of us. Why'd we hide the truth?"

"It's too late to make it right now. Who woulda been in trouble anyway? We'd be headed to juvie, not the pen. But didja ever wonder how he"-Randall gestured to Hiram again-"knew exactly where to dump Albert's body? It was like he already had a place all picked out."

All faces turned toward Hiram.

"We let Blacktower take advantage because we was all too drunk to realize both of them had other motives. White man motives. Makes me sick. Especially when I heard what you guys did to Lanae. There ain't nothing in our history, or any Lakota ritual, about raping a virgin as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit. These a.s.sholes just wanted a young piece of dark p.u.s.s.y, and they used us to get it."

Warning chills raced up my arms. Axel was playing fast and loose against a guy with a gun. Not smart.

"That's enough, Axel," Theo warned.

Axel paid no heed. "I ain't gonna listen to this bulls.h.i.+t. I sure as h.e.l.l ain't gonna take part in something that's gonna hurt anyone."

"I'll remind you that this sudden burst of conscience will not absolve you of your past actions in any of these situations, either in our eyes, or in the eyes of the law," Theo said.

Axel laughed. "You can do whatever you want, 'Great White Chieftain' or whatever dumb-a.s.s name you wanna be called. And you better let me do the same."

"Or what? What makes you think you're safe?"

Nothing thinly veiled about that threat.

"If anything happens to me, like what happened to Levi or Sue Anne, I got someone who'll spill everything that's been going on with this stupid group to the sheriff. And then he'll come after you."

"You wish," Theo sneered. "Sheriff Dawson won't do a d.a.m.n thing based on the scared ramblings of a fifteen-year-old kid when he hasn't done squat about two clear cases of murder." An arrogant expression crossed Theo's face. "He doesn't care about dead Indians. Only thing he cares about is getting elected sheriff. And since high school kids can't vote, and neither can the people on the rez, I don't think he'll be too concerned."

Part of me wanted to defend Dawson; a bigger part feared Theo had made the right a.s.sessment.

"Wrong. If I tell him that you-"

"I'll tell him that you failed my cla.s.s, which isn't a lie, and you'll make up all sorts of lies to cause problems for me."

Axel said, "You a.s.shole."

"And if any of the rest of you really want to push it, I'll inform the sheriff I suspect you guys"-he gestured to Little Bear and Moser-"killed Levi because he'd cozied up to your old girlfriend, Sue Anne. How long you think it'll take before he connects the dots to Sue Anne's murder?" He faced Randall. "You're not out of it either. Albert ran away from home and hid out in your bas.e.m.e.nt. Not to mention Bucky, here, stole the horse, that killed Albert out of his uncle's pasture. Don't forget you all partic.i.p.ated in the mating ritual, some of you several times. Not one of you here is without guilt."