In the Arms of Stone Angels

chapter sixteen


When I held out my hand to him, I expected White Bird to swim toward me and grab it, but he just stared at me with a pained expression. Only his eyes moved. His arms and legs floated limp beneath the surface of the water. He showed no relief that I had found him, and looked more worried for me than about what was happening to him. That made no sense.

“Can you move?” I yelled. “Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

With a strained look on his face, he slowly blinked twice.

He was beyond my reach. And after I looked around, I didn’t see a lifeline that could help me haul him in. I thought about doing the whole lifeguard thing. I could pull him to shore, but maybe I’d get stuck alongside him. There were no guarantees of normal in bizarro world.

“We don’t have a lot of options.” I chewed the inside corner of my lip and considered my next move. And when I stared down at him, he looked even more worried.

“Are you tied down? Once yes, twice no,” I asked, but none of my game of twenty questions was getting us anywhere.

There was a very good reason I hated charades—because I was friggin’ bad at it. Besides, my thinking was wrong. The guy was submerged and still alive. The water where I’d waded into was cold, but not unbearable. But the deep chasm where White Bird floated, that was as frigid as glacier water. And in this strange place, he didn’t have to be anchored to anything. Nothing in this damned nightmare was like anything I’d ever seen. I had to think out of the box. And whatever I decided to do, I’d have to do it really fast.

What the hell! I sucked in a deep breath and jumped in.

Shawano Sheriff’s Office

Will Tate took an early shift break and spent it at his desk, checking the messages dispatch had told him about. He’d gotten a return phone call from the customer service department at TimeOnMyHands.com, an online seller of watches. A guy by the name of Jon Fischer had left his direct dial number.

“Hot damn.” He grinned.

Will had the urge to rush to his desk and play his end of phone tag, but it might be helpful to have the watch with him when he called the retailer back. Even at this hour, these East Coast businesses had twenty-four-hour customer service departments. Maybe Jon Fischer was a night shift guy like he was. Will headed to the evidence locker to retrieve the watch he’d found near the crime scene.

After placing a few earlier calls to Bulova, the manufacturer of the watch, he’d lucked out in learning that the timepiece was pricey enough to be unique. Its striking blue face was distinctive and it had a stainless steel band with a clasp, but the real identifier was etched inside. The watchmaker had told him how to retrieve a number etched on the back, inside the mechanism. That number could ID the specific watch and by backtracking transactions, they could isolate the retail seller. With any luck, eventually he’d find out who had bought it and where it had been shipped.

And Will had been able to speed up the process by telling the Bulova customer service guy that the watch would have been purchased longer than two years ago. Because his inquiry was part of a murder investigation, the manufacturer had fully cooperated and expedited their response. It hadn’t taken long to isolate the online seller as TimeOnMyHands.com.

Will was getting closer to finding out who owned the property that was now evidence in a murder investigation.

“Hey, Walter. How’s it going?” Will smiled at the evidence clerk as he signed the log to retrieve the watch. “I need the Madsen box.”

“Comin’ up.” The clerk flipped the sign-in sheet around and glanced at what Will had written. The guy was a stickler for rules. And that was a good thing.

After Walter pulled the box and shoved it over the counter, Will opened the lid and reached inside the case file. The watch would have been on top, where he’d left it. But it was missing.

“Did anyone check this box out today?” Will looked more carefully. Maybe the timepiece had slipped deeper into the box.

“Don’t know. I’m night shift, but I’ll have a look.” Walter read through the log and shook his head. “No. You’re the last signature I have for that case. You missing somethin’, Will?”

“Yeah. Most likely, my mind.” He narrowed his eyes and backtracked over what he’d done with the evidence, but came up with the same answer.

The watch was missing. And no one had signed out for it. What the hell was going on?

“You want me to leave a note for the morning crew?” the clerk asked.

“No. I’ll come in early tomorrow and look into it. No problem.”

Will had taken photos of the watch, but without the real deal those digitals might not hold up in court and be difficult to place in the context of the investigation or the crime scene. Will grabbed one of the photos and headed back to his desk. When he called Fischer, he got good news and bad news. The good news was that the guy worked night shift, but the bad news was that he was taking a dinner break. And he hadn’t left word on the watch with anyone else. Will had to leave a message.

Although he was disappointed that he’d have to wait, Will had hopes that he was onto something. Soon he’d know the name of the person who’d purchased the watch and where it had been shipped.

With any luck, he’d still hit pay dirt—with or without the damned watch.



The water was friggin’ cold. Freezing!

When I hit a wall of ice, I almost lost consciousness. And I sank like a rock. The extreme cold made me gasp and the air in my lungs erupted in a burst of bubbles. I watched the last of my air race to the surface. Gulps of air lost. My muscles had instantly constricted and I got hit with uncontrollable shivers.

My body felt sluggish and too heavy to move. I floundered in the deep water, flailing my arms and legs in a desperate attempt to pull White Bird to the surface. My lungs felt like they were about to burst. The more I struggled, the worse I hurt. He was too heavy or I wasn’t strong enough. It didn’t matter which. My body was working against me and my brain was shutting down. In minutes it would be too late to save either of us.

I don’t know exactly when it was that I gave up, but when I did, I turned my head to look for him.

White Bird’s body had rolled under mine. When I reached for him, I held on and we sank into the depths. I felt everything in me shut down and I was numb from the cold. To survive, my body had shifted any heat I had left to my chest. And when my thinking became muddled, I knew it was only a matter of time before my brain would stop, too. And being in a no-win struggle to live, thrashing around in sheer panic wasn’t the way I wanted to spend my last minutes.

My mother’s voice filled my head and I saw Grams smiling at me. It was my way of saying goodbye.

And with the last bit of awareness I had, I held on to White Bird as we spiraled into the deep. When I looked into his eyes one last time, he had never looked more beautiful than at that moment. He had a peaceful look on his sweet face and his long dark hair drifted in the current. I felt my heart slow to a crawl as we drifted down. Both of us were swallowed in billows of cobalt blue, as the shimmering light from the surface grew dim.

I kissed him for the last time. And when his arms wrapped around me, I felt whatever heat remained in my body slowly leave me. I closed my eyes and fell asleep in his arms. I didn’t want to die, but I wasn’t afraid.

Everything went dark and as my body went limp, White Bird and I drifted apart. In the quiet of the deep, I heard my mother’s voice again.

“Stay with me, Brenna. Honey?”

She sounded so real, I wanted to tell her how much I loved her, but my mouth wouldn’t open.

“Brenna, can you hear me?” This time she yelled. And she shook my face.

When I opened my eyes, the stark white was back. And a bright light spun over my head in circles until it stopped. It took me a while to recognize that I was staring into a light fixture and I was lying on a floor, shivering. In the water, my body had been numb, but now I ached all over. And when a sudden rush of noise hit my ears, it scared me. I reached out my hands and someone grabbed hold.

It was Mom.

“Honey, are you all right?” She had tears in her eyes and she kissed my forehead, like a million-gazillion times. “Oh, my God. She’s awake. She’s gonna be okay, isn’t she?”

When my mother spoke to someone else in the room, I gazed around to see the shadows of several others. Two faces emerged from the haze. Joe Sunne came into focus. He looked tired but damned good. Seeing him made me smile, I think. And Dr. Ridgeway had tubes in his ears and was checking my heart. I knew that I was back at the hospital, ’cause it smelled like one.

After I realized where I was, my heart lurched and I scrambled to sit up.

“White…Bird.” I choked on his name. “Where is…he?”

I looked to my right and saw Dr. Ridgeway hunched over his body. Instead of being dressed in jeans, like I’d last seen him in the vision, White Bird was again dressed in pajamas and a robe, with slippers on his feet.

“What happened?” I sat up and ran a hand through my hair. It was dry. And my mind grappled with what I remembered, but how much of it had been real? “Is he going to be okay?”

When no one answered, I yelled, “White Bird?” and struggled to stand, but Mom held me in her arms. Her warmth felt good.

“He’s awake, honey,” she said as she grinned at me. And when she leaned closer, she whispered in my ear, “You did it. You brought him back. I don’t know how, but you did.”

I heard my long-lost—very lost—friend cough. And when Dr. Ridgeway helped him into his wheelchair, White Bird saw me for the first time. He was so totally exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open, but his blank stare turned into a warm smile that was contagious.

“What took you so long?” was all he said.

I grinned back. And for a change, I had nothing to say.

In that moment, I believed he had sensed me the first time I had touched him. And he’d sent up the equivalent of a mental flare for help that he knew I’d “feel” when he came to me in my dreams. I also knew the vision that we’d both shared had really happened, at least to us.

“We need to examine him, but that won’t take long.” Dr. Ridgeway sucked all the joy from the room. “I’ll come get you when we’re done. And you’ll have plenty of time to visit. How’s that?”

The doc didn’t wait for anyone to answer. He never did. He swept from the room, pushing White Bird on wheels. And I felt like someone had stolen my best friend.

No, wait, that’s exactly what happened.

Mom helped me to my feet and pulled a chair under my butt so I could sit at the only table in the room. Behind me, she straddled the chair and hugged my neck. But when Joe plopped down across from me, I knew he had something more on his mind than a pat on the back and giving me a big “Atta girl.” He had beads of sweat on his forehead and I swear to God, he looked older. Seriously older.

“Your job ain’t over yet.” He winked and slid a small notebook and pen across the table, things he had stashed in his sport coat. He had come prepared. “Write down everything. In order, if you can. And don’t leave anything out.”

My brain was fried, but thankfully I considered that fairly normal. I knew what Joe wanted. I still didn’t know why making the list was such a big deal, but I got to work. Joe wasn’t an easy guy to say no to.

And the sooner I got the list done, the sooner I’d see White Bird. I couldn’t believe he was back from the virtually dead. And I didn’t care how it happened. Soon we’d have real time together. And after the past two years of hell, that was as good as eating dessert first.

Red Cliffs Hospital—An Hour Later

This time it was me who paced the floor, wringing my hands, with Mom sitting patiently watching me. And Joe was looking over the notes I’d written. He’d promised to give me his insights and interpret whatever I saw. And since I hadn’t held anything back, his job wouldn’t be quick or easy.

I should have been more patient, especially after coming back from a virtual trip that seemed like it had lasted days, when it had only taken less time than Dr. Ridgeway was spending examining White Bird.

“What time is it, Mom?”

“Five minutes from the last time you asked.” Normally she would have sounded annoyed, but Mom had this goofy smirk on her face. She looked really happy for a change, but I sure wasn’t.

Ridgeway still had us waiting outside the locked door of the detention unit. After all that had happened, I felt like I was back at square one, wondering if any of what I remembered had actually taken place. Seeing White Bird awake and being able to talk to him would make things real for me.

“You think he’s okay?” I didn’t wait for anyone to answer. “What could be taking them so long?”

“Bren?”

When Mom called my name, I turned and she nudged her head behind me. Dr. Ridgeway had buzzed through the locked door, but he wasn’t smiling.

“How is he, Doc? Can I see him?” I swallowed, hard.

“He’s lucky. And it’s a miracle how lucid he is.” The doctor shook his head. “I don’t know what happened in there. And if you have time, I’d like to talk to you about…”

“Yeah, I’m sure. But I’m a little fuzzy, you know. Maybe it’ll come to me.” I stepped closer and fixed my eyes on his. “You promised. Can I see him?”

“Yes, you can. Follow me.” He turned to escort me, but when he saw Joe and Mom stand, he said, “He’s a little weak. It would be best if only Brenna came with me. I hope you understand.”

The doc sounded almost human. Almost.

Mom looked disappointed, but she shrugged and said, “Sure. We’ll be here when you’re done, honey.”

And Joe only nodded.

Walking from the waiting area to White Bird’s hospital room was a total blur. Ridgeway said stuff, but I didn’t listen. Nothing became real until the doctor opened the door and I saw him lying in a hospital bed.

When he looked up at me, the room closed in. And stupid stuff went through my mind. Things like—

Why didn’t I look in a mirror while I was friggin’ waiting? My face was still battered and my lip was cut. What was I thinking? And I’d grown real breasts since he’d last seen me. Would he notice? And my damned hair was cut off. Would he like it? I dragged a hand through my hair and fidgeted with my clothes. I had changed ten times and I could’ve changed twenty more and it wouldn’t have mattered. I’d never feel right about seeing him after all this time—especially after what I’d done.

But the biggest question in my arsenal was could he ever forgive me?

All of that swirled in my head, pulling a three-sixty like a flushing toilet. And the most genius thing I came up with to say was, “Hey.”

“Brenna? It is you. I thought I dreamed you.” His gentle voice was exactly as I remembered it. It always sent chills over my skin.

I walked closer to the bed. And to keep my hands busy, I twisted his bed linens. It was all I could do not to touch him.

“They cut your hair.” I said. “It looks…good.”

Good? It looked frickin’ great. The boy could totally be bald and look amazing, but I felt heat rush to my face. The last thing I wanted to do was call his attention to hair. My hair was sort of a disaster.

“Did they?” He ran a hand through his short dark hair. “Yeah, guess so, but you’re one to talk. You’ve got short hair, too.”

“Oh, yeah. Long story, but it’s growing on me, literally.” I smiled as I touched the hair on the back of my neck.

A comfortable silence filled the room. And White Bird stared at me the way he used to. With any other boy, I would have turned bright red. But seeing him look at me felt…right. And when I stared back, he didn’t look away.

“I’m not sure about what happened to me, but I’m sure that I’ve missed you, a lot.”

“Yeah. And I’ve missed you, too.”

He had the same soft brown eyes, colored with flecks of gold and green that reminded me of wheat blowing gently in the breeze. And with his skin darker than mine—the color of sweet caramel—I liked how we looked together. Like a two-scoop vanilla sundae with nuts on top…me being the nuts.

“You’ve grown up, Brenna.” He smiled and reached for my cheek. I noticed his fingers shook, but I pretended not to see it. “And you look…beautiful. More…beautiful.”

When his fingers touched my cheek, I reached for his hand and held it, with his warm skin pressed against my face. And I kissed his palm as a tear slid down my cheek. I wanted to talk with him forever, just the two of us. I had a new school in North Carolina that I wanted to tell him about. And he didn’t know my grandmother had died and how sad that made me. And his sweat lodge…I wanted to tell him how proud I was of him, but all of that would have to wait.

I had to clear the air about what I’d done, mostly because I didn’t feel worthy to talk to him unless I told him. And a guy like White Bird deserved to know the truth. He’d always been honest with me. If I’d learned anything in the past two years, it was to face my fear head-on. Ignoring shit didn’t make it go away and demons only got stronger. I was tired of hiding. And if I didn’t tell him, I’d be a hypocrite to pretend I was his friend.

“White Bird, I’ve got something to say. Promise me you’ll listen.”

“What’s the matter, Bren? Are you crying?” He wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Talk to me. I’m listening.”

The tears came harder now. And I choked on my sobs to get out what I needed to say.

“Two years ago, I was the one who turned you in to the sheriff.”

“What?” He grimaced as he stared at me. And I saw his body stiffen, but he didn’t pull away.

“You promised that you’d listen,” I cried. “I didn’t see anything except you kneeling over Heather’s body. What was I supposed to think?”

I should have rehearsed what I would say to him. Words were spilling from my mouth like puke, each one more rank than the last. I was grasping at anything to say. And everything came out wrong.

“I should have believed in you. You were my friend.”

“Were?” This time he pulled his hand away and crossed his arms. “You mean I’m not now? From what the doctor said, it’s been two years, Brenna. Guess a lot of stuff has happened since then.”

“Yeah, but Joe thinks you might’ve been a witness.”

I told him about Joe’s theory, that under the influence of peyote, he might have gotten separated from his spirit guide and lost his way in his quest. And that Joe believed he might have been a witness to what had happened to Heather.

“Joe thinks that? So what do you think, Brenna? Do you think I killed her?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Guess so. You were the one who called the cops.”

“But you don’t know what’s happened since I came back. Lots of stuff. All you have to do is tell us what happened that night. And maybe all this will be over.”

“Oh, is that all?” He raised his voice and pressed fingers to the side of his head. “I can’t remember anything. And I’ve got a headache the size of Oklahoma. Now probably isn’t the best time for us to be talking about this.”

He was right, but I wasn’t sure I’d get another chance, especially when the hospital door opened and Sheriff Logan walked in.

“Time for you to leave, Brenna. I’m placing Isaac Henry under arrest for the murder of Heather Madsen. And it’s about time he gets his day in court.” The sheriff pulled his handcuffs and grabbed White Bird by the wrist. “One of my deputies will be posted at his door until Dr. Ridgeway releases him.”

After Sheriff Logan cuffed him to the bed, White Bird got really mad and he yelled terrible things. He didn’t understand. And I’d run out of time to explain it, even if I knew how.

“Were you working with the sheriff, Brenna? Is that why you’re here?” He yanked his arm and the handcuff clanged on the metal bed rail. “I thought we were…friends. Why are you doing this to me?”

When he wouldn’t settle down, Dr. Ridgeway came back with an orderly and a nurse. Through a sea of white uniforms, I saw White Bird staring at me. He was mad—really mad at me—for the first time. The doctor ordered a nurse to give him a shot. It must have been strong, because he dropped like a rock and stopped struggling.

And all of this had been my fault.

I pressed my back to the wall of the hospital room and sank to my knees, crying. And when the sheriff knelt by me and put a hand on my shoulder, I pleaded, “Why are you doing this? Why couldn’t you have waited?”

With a pained expression on his face, Sheriff Logan said, “Murder charges don’t just go away. He’s got to face up to what he’s done. And Heather’s parents need closure. You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”

I choked back a sob and asked, “So what’s going to happen to him now?”

“Two years have gone by since the murder. The District Attorney will probably want to try him as an adult now. Juvenile detention is out.”

“What? But that’s not fair.” I grabbed his arm. “He was a kid when Heather died.”

“She didn’t die, Brenna. She was murdered,” Sheriff Logan argued. “And for the record, what happened to that girl and her family, that’s unfair. You better get your priorities straight.”

The sheriff pulled me to my feet, but he was done talking. He sent a nurse to get Joe and my mom. And when they came, I collapsed into my mother’s arms and cried for real this time. I walked from White Bird’s hospital room, feeling totally beat up. But when I looked at Joe, he had something to say.

“I know you’re sad, Brenna, but we don’t have time for tears.” He walked down the hospital corridor with Mom and me, his hands clasped behind his back. “We’ve got work to do.”

I stopped in the hall and stared at him for a long moment, drilling through my memory of what he’d told me when he talked about dream symbols and what they meant. Joe had believed that White Bird might have been a witness to Heather’s murder. And if that were so, then the answer might lie in the notes I’d written down.

And before I had entered the vision, Joe had tried to warn me when he said, “White Bird is locked in his mind, but even if you reach him and show him the way out of his torment, he still won’t be free.”

“You knew this would happen, didn’t you, Joe?” I asked. “You tried to warn me.”

The Euchee Shaman didn’t answer. The look in his eyes was enough for me.

“Warn you about what?” But Mom was clueless. She looked at both Joe and me, waiting for one of us to answer her.

“I’ll explain it to you later, Mom. But now, I think Joe and me have work to do.”



With his squad car pulled over onto the shoulder of a road on the north side of Shawano, Will Tate had just finished issuing a warning to a speeder in an SUV. His spiraling red-and-blue lights had attracted gawkers and traffic around him had slowed to a crawl, even though the violator had already merged into the nearest lane. He had his vehicle door open and was finishing his warning citation when he got the return call from Jon Fischer at TimeOnMyHands.com. Fischer had called his cell phone and Will recognized the area code on his caller ID.

“Yeah, this is Deputy Tate. Thanks for returning my call so quickly.”

“Always glad to cooperate with law enforcement.” Fischer had a real thick accent—Brooklyn or New Jersey maybe—and he talked a little too fast. “I don’t get calls like this every day, you know. To tell you the truth, this breaks up the job for me. What I do ain’t exactly rocket science, if you know what I mean.” The guy laughed, then got down to business. “You said you needed a name and shipping address for a specific transaction.” The guy rattled off the etched number inside the watch.

“Just a minute. Let me confirm that number.” Will had brought a digital photo of the watch and had it in a manila folder on his passenger seat. After he checked the number, he said, “Yeah that’s the one. You got that name and address for me?”

Will grabbed a notepad to take down the information, but when Fischer read off Matt Logan’s name and address, he stopped writing.

“What? Are you sure about that name?”

“Hey, buddy, I’m not exactly makin’ this stuff up over here. You want the name, or what?”

“Yeah, read it to me again.”

This time Will didn’t write anything down. He already knew the name and address too well. After he ended the call, he stared out his windshield and watched his lightbar cut its red-and-blue beams through the dark. Sheriff Logan had seen the watch earlier and didn’t make a big deal about it. He acted like he’d never seen it before. Will wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but how did the sheriff’s watch end up at that sweat lodge campfire? That site had never been part of the original crime scene where Heather’s body had been found.

And whoever took the watch from the evidence locker had done it without following procedure by signing for it. That made Will even more suspicious of a man he respected. Matt Logan had the experience and the opportunity to mess with the Madsen murder investigation.

And maybe he even had motive.

“Damn it, Matt. What the hell did you do?” He heaved a sigh, blocking out all the terrible thoughts he had in his head as reasons Matt might have been involved in Heather’s killing. Each thought was uglier than the last, but he couldn’t get his head wrapped around any of it. Though he had a few blind spots, Matt Logan was one of the finest men he knew. And he deserved a chance to explain his actions.

When Will contacted dispatch to locate the sheriff, they gave him Red Cliffs Hospital as his last known location. He shut off his emergency lights and headed for the hospital. He needed to talk with Logan, one-on-one. And this time, there’d be no p-ssyfootin’ around who was doin’ what with the Madsen case. As far as Will knew, the sheriff had tampered with evidence and who knew what else. He needed answers and pronto.

It took him a half hour or more to get to the hospital, but by the time he got there, the sheriff was gone. His cruiser wasn’t in the parking lot and hospital staff told him Sheriff Logan had already left. The man worked long hours on a normal basis, but at this time of day, the sheriff could have called it quits and gone home. To make sure, Will called dispatch again, but this time he contacted the on-duty operator on his cell phone. He didn’t want anyone listening in to his radio frequency.

“I’m still trying to locate the sheriff, Jolene. He’s not at Red Cliffs. You got his twenty?”

“No, Will. I’ve got nothing. And that’s not like him. You want me to check around?”

Jolene had been a dispatch operator since God had invented Oklahoma red dirt. And when she told him that the sheriff normally told her where he was and when he was off duty, Will knew something was up. Until today, Logan had taken pride in doing everything by the book. And lately he’d seemed distracted, especially after the Nashes had come back to town and the Madsen case had new evidence.

“No, ma’am. It’s no big deal. It’ll wait till morning,” he said. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anything for you, doll.”

He could have waited until morning, like he’d told Jolene, but Will had no intention of doing that. He got back into his cruiser and headed out, looking for Matt Logan. And when he found him, he wasn’t sure how it would go down, but he was determined to set things right. He suspected the sheriff had tampered with evidence—or worse.

And no one was above the law. No one.