“Well, it’s a bit of a story, Mr. Kanasket. I wonder if I could come in and sit down and tell it to you?”
Earl studied her a moment. Then he nodded, just a small dip of his chin. “I think you’d better,” he said, tugging on the wheels so his chair rolled backward. The dog also retreated with effort. Tracy shut the door and followed Earl into a tired but clean room just to the right of the entry. The air was stale and held the odor of a recent fire in the hearth. The furnishings were functional—a couch and two chairs for sitting, an oval-shaped throw rug over a hardwood floor for warmth, a flat-screen television for entertainment, and a lamp for light.
As Earl positioned his chair so that his back was to the window facing the field of kale, Tracy stepped to a chair near the fireplace. Rust-colored dog hair on the arms and seat indicated that this was the dog’s preferred spot, but for now he remained content to be at his master’s side. Tracy sat. She’d given some thought on the drive about how to begin. “I graduated from the police academy with a woman named Jenny Almond. Her father was Buzz Almond, the sheriff of Klickitat County.”
“I know that name,” Earl said. “But he wasn’t sheriff. Not yet, anyway. He was a deputy. He came when Kimi went missing.”
According to the Accurint records, the Kanaskets moved to the Yakama Reservation not long after the recovery of Kimi’s body from the White Salmon River.
“That’s right,” she said.
“He said he’d find Kimi. I think he meant it.”
“Did he tell you what happened to Kimi?”
Kanasket took his time, seeming to ponder each question, as if age and wisdom had taught him patience before opening his mouth to speak. “They said she threw herself into the river.”
“Is that what Buzz Almond told you?”
“I don’t remember who said it, just that it was said. Didn’t believe it then. Don’t believe it now.”
“Well,” Tracy said. “I’m not certain Buzz Almond believed it either. He kept a file, Mr. Kanasket.” She reached into her briefcase and pulled out the file, then stood and handed it to Earl Kanasket. He took it tentatively, as if uncertain he wanted to hold it, and Tracy didn’t blame him for that. The file documented the worst memories of his life, memories she was certain he’d take to his grave.
“It appears Buzz Almond continued to investigate what happened to your daughter, which wouldn’t have been the usual way things were done in the sheriff’s office. The usual way would have been for him to turn his file over to a detective. So the fact that he kept the file indicates, perhaps, that he didn’t agree with the conclusion reached by others.”
“What does he have to say about it?”
“He’s dead. He died of cancer a few weeks ago. His daughter found the file in his desk at home and asked me to take a look. I came here to let you know, and hopefully to get your approval.”
Earl’s eyes narrowed, and his gaze bore into Tracy with such intensity she was certain this time that he would ask her to leave. “My approval?”
“Yes, to look further into Buzz Almond’s investigation.”
Earl turned his head and looked at the only framed photograph in the room, a picture of Kimi with a woman Tracy assumed to be his wife. After a moment he redirected his attention to Tracy. “Tell me what’s in the file.”
Tracy retook her seat and explained the contents. She said she was having the coroner’s report reviewed in Seattle and had also sent several dozen photographs to be studied by an expert. While she spoke, Earl Kanasket sat motionless, hands resting on the file in his lap. His bony fingers never moved to open it.
“Photographs of what?”
“A path in the woods leading to a clearing.”
“I know it.”
“You do?”
Earl nodded, though again it was a barely perceptible tilt. “It holds bad spirits.”
“Bad spirits?”
“Dead who are not at rest.”
When Sarah died and her father took his own life, Tracy lost what remained of her faith, never having been much of a believer in things like heaven or life after death. But she couldn’t reconcile the moment in the mine above Cedar Grove when she’d felt Sarah’s presence as strongly as if Sarah had been physically present. After that, Tracy didn’t dismiss talk of spirits. “Why there?” she asked.
“What do you know of it?”
“Nothing.”
Earl shut his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them. “Many years ago they hung an innocent man in the clearing. They said he committed murder, and they brought him to an old oak tree so everyone in the town could witness the hanging. When they asked him for his final words, he said he was innocent, and if they hung him he would rise from his grave and burn the town to the ground. A month after the hanging, a fire burned most of the buildings in downtown Stoneridge, but the cause of the fire was never determined. When they finally opened the man’s grave, they found it empty. Shortly after those events, the oak tree died. Since then, nothing grows in the clearing.”
The dog sat up and barked, causing Tracy to flinch. Earl Kanasket never moved, never shifted his gaze from her face. Seconds later she heard the sound of heavy boots climbing the front porch and felt the house shudder as the front door popped inward.
“Dad? Whose truck is in the—?”
A man carrying a brown grocery bag stepped into the room. His eyes shifted between Tracy and his father before settling on her. “Who are you?”
élan bore a passing resemblance to his father. His hair, more gray than black, extended past his shoulders, and he had the same dark eyes, though where his father’s eyes engaged, élan’s repelled, in an intense, challenging gaze.
Tracy stood. “My name is Tracy Crosswhite. I’m a detective from Seattle.”
“What do you want? Why are you talking to my father?”
“She’s here about Kimi,” Earl said.
“Kimi?” élan scoffed. He set the groceries on an end table and walked farther into the room. “Is this some sort of a joke?”
“No,” Tracy said. “It’s not.”
“What could you possibly want to know about Kimi?”
“She doesn’t believe Kimi killed herself,” Earl said.
élan glanced at his father, then back to Tracy. “The former sheriff kept a file on your sister’s death,” she said.
But the more she tried to explain, the more agitated élan looked, like a man with bugs crawling up his back. He cut her off. “What possible good do you think will come of this, huh? Are you going to bring Kimi back?”
“No,” Tracy said. “But if your sister didn’t kill herself—”
“What? What are you going to do? Arrest someone? They didn’t arrest anyone then, and they haven’t arrested anyone in forty years. They . . . didn’t . . . care. Kimi was just another dead Indian.”
“We have technology now that wasn’t available back in 1976—technology that might reveal evidence that your sister’s death wasn’t a suicide.”