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Her breath caught and she started to shake her head, a litany of reasons why she was to blame came to her tongue but she swallowed the instant response and jerked a short nod. “I’ll try.”
He seemed satisfied with her answer and the rigid set of his shoulders softened just a little as if he’d been holding back a tremendous wind at his back, or shielding her from some terrible calamity. Moisture blurred her vision again and she realized tears would never be far from the surface when she dared to broach this subject with him or anyone.
“I’m going to find who did this to you,” he assured her in a quiet but hard voice and she didn’t doubt his sincerity. Sundance had always borne the weight of his responsibilities with stoic resolve. He was hard as granite, as unrelenting as a puma on the hunt. She held no illusions that he wouldn’t turn that focus on her when he felt it was time. And apparently he’d felt the time had come. “Iris, I need a formal statement from you about that night,” he said.
A shaky smile from suddenly numb lips formed as she shrugged. “Formal or informal, I’ve told you everything I remember, which isn’t a lot.” The memory of someone giving a god-awful rendition of Aerosmith’s “Dude Looks Like a Lady” banged around in her head for a moment. She could smell the alcohol that had splashed on the bar, the sour perspiration of too many bodies and the faint scent of something sharp and tangy—cologne perhaps—but then nothing. She cleared her throat when it felt as if something were stuck there. “I’m sorry…it’s just blank. The stuff I remember…it’s nothing of value.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
“Sundance, trust me, there’s nothing there unless bad singing can be considered a crime.”
His mouth firmed. “Whoever did this to you was in that bar. Someone was watching and waiting for the right person. Did you talk or dance with anyone?”
Sweat popped along her hairline and she wiped at it with shaking hands. Music throbbed in her head, the laughter and alcohol went hand in hand. She’d been having fun. She’d gone alone to The Dam Beaver, the only bar actually on the reservation, not the least bit apprehensive about being by herself for it would’ve been like being afraid of her local grocery store. “I…I don’t remember,” she stammered, feeling sick. “There were a lot of people that night. Karaoke. Singing. I was laughing at…someone.” She rubbed at her forehead, the nausea rising in her throat. “I was thirsty. It was so hot…I ordered a club soda with lime because I knew I’d have to drive home eventually.”
“So you’d stopped drinking at some point. How much had you drank at that point?”
“I was tipsy but not drunk,” she answered, trying to remember, though her head had begun to spin. “I can’t do this right now. I feel sick,” she said, dropping Saaski’s leash to run to the bathroom. She slammed the door and put her head in the toilet in just enough time to lose the little food she’d eaten from earlier.
As the heaving subsided, Iris shuddered and rested her forehead on the cold porcelain, devastated by her body’s knee-jerk reaction to the trauma she’d been through. She knew she suffered from post-traumatic stress. From a clinical viewpoint she recognized the signs but as the person soaking in her own sweat over a memory flash, she couldn’t remain in that detached, clinical state.
She dragged her hand over her mouth and rose on shaky legs to rinse the sour taste away. She stared at the door, knowing Sundance was still out there, waiting for her. Her eyes squeezed shut as she willed strength into her legs, prayed for some semblance of control, and when it didn’t happen, she cursed her weakness with all the bitterness she could muster because she was fairly certain she’d never be the same again.
Sundance winced as he heard her retch from behind the closed bathroom door. The reaction had been almost instantaneous. He felt helpless and useless, standing there with a dog leash in his hand while Iris barfed her guts out over a simple question. He muttered an expletive and Saaski cocked his head at him. Restless with the need to do something productive, he went about the business of filling a bowl of food and water for the dog. Then he went to the Durango and put the kennel in the small garage. As a habit, he did a perimeter check and double-checked the lock on the side door. Satisfied things were secure, he returned to the house to find Iris curled on the sofa, stroking Saaski’s fur. She didn’t immediately look at him when he walked in—embarrassment, he supposed. Mya was always telling him to be more sensitive.
“You feeling okay?” he asked.
She shook her head, her eyes and cheeks red and splotchy from retching. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disappear on you like that.”
“Don’t apologize. You’ve been through a major trauma. Nobody expects you to bounce back immediately. Least of all me.”
She looked at him, surprise in her gaze. “Really?”
“Of course.”
“Then what’s with the dragging me out of bed, bringing me a dog and suddenly caring about my mental health?”
He supposed hers were valid questions. He was acting out of character. He couldn’t very well tell her that his head was a muddled mess about certain things. The woman had enough to deal with, she didn’t need his drama, too. But if he had the guts, he’d tell her that seeing her so broken made him want to break the law and nothing made him want to do that. He wanted to find that rotten SOB and make his life a living hell for what he’d done to her. All the things he prided himself on—being the responsible, dependable one with a cool head—went right out the window when he saw Iris hurt. But hell, no! He couldn’t say that because he didn’t know what to make of it himself. Looking away, he shrugged in answer. “Maybe I don’t like the idea of sparring with an unarmed person.”
Recognizing his attempt at a joke, she offered a faint smile. “You always were so competitive.”
“And so were you,” he countered, wishing her eyes would flare to life with that spark he was accustomed to seeing when she was seriously pissed off or determined to make a situation go her way. Instead they remained defeated and listless. And he didn’t know how to fix that. He rubbed at the back of his neck, the frustration getting to him. “Hey, make sure you eat something. Okay?” he said.
“I will,” she replied, but he didn’t believe her. She sighed in irritation and he welcomed the sound. “I have enough food to feed an army. I’ll pick something or else Mya will start an IV drip. Don’t laugh, she’s actually threatened me.”
“Good.” He approved of his sister’s threat. Iris was fading away and he didn’t like that at all. He walked to the door, turning as he let himself out, saying, “Make sure you lock this right after I leave. And if you take Saaski out, keep him on the leash so he doesn’t run. He’ll need a few days to get used to your place. Best to keep him in the house unless he’s needing to relieve himself.”
Iris nodded as she rose to follow his instructions. The door closed behind him and he heard the lock sliding into place. A short but wry smile fitted to his mouth. That right there—Iris doing as she was told—was a surefire sign that she wasn’t all there yet. Iris, as a rule, never did as she was told.
Especially when the instruction came from him.
Hard to believe he actually wanted the old Iris back.
Chapter 5
Sundance walked into The Dam Beaver, the place where Iris last remembered being, and after his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he approached the bartender and flashed his credentials.
He’d been here right after the incident with Iris, but he liked to remind people that he was still on the case even if everyone else had moved on in their interest level.
When it had first happened, the talk among the tribe had been about the unexpectedly violent attack but now, it was old news.
“You’re killing business,” Butch grumbled, leaning against the bar with a frown. A few patrons cast furtive glances Sundance’s way as they ambled away. He let them go but he made sure they knew he’d seen them. Butch sighed and grabbed a towel to sop up the wet spots left behind. “What can I do for you?”
“I want to talk to you again about the night one of your patrons was attacked.”
“Come on, Sundance,” he said, scowling, “how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t know anything about no woman getting attacked. Whatever happened to her, happened outside of my place.”
Sundance narrowed his stare at Butch. “That night was karaoke. What was the crowd like? Anyone stand out? Maybe someone who wasn’t local?”
Butch grumbled under his breath but made a show of searching his memory. Unfortunately, the surly bartender failed to pull anything of value from his brain. He shrugged. “Karaoke always brings in the numbers and it’s hard to separate the locals from the off-rez, you know? Besides, I’m too busy slinging drinks to ID every Tom, Dick and Harry who walks in.”
Frustration ate at Sundance. “You know it was Iris who was attacked. You’ve known her since she was a kid. Hell, you probably served her mother back in the day. Doesn’t it bother you that whoever did this was in your bar?”
Butch glowered then looked away, shamed. “I’m real sorry she got banged up. She’s a good girl. I never had no problems with her.”
“Yeah, well, show you care by giving me a bit more cooperation. I’m trying to catch whoever did this to her.”
“Can’t give you what I don’t got,” he maintained stubbornly, but when he realized Sundance wasn’t going anywhere until he left with something useful, he added, “I’ll keep my ear open for anything. People start to drinking, their mouths start to flapping. Maybe someone saw something. I’ll let you know if anything important comes up.”
Sundance handed him a card. “You do that.” He turned and surveyed the motley group huddled in small clusters. Given that it was midday, the place was nearly empty. He could imagine how quickly it filled at night. No doubt Butch Jones enjoyed the monopoly of having the only bar on the reservation. He’d have to return on a karaoke night to see what kind of crowd the bar attracted. He’d never been a fan of karaoke himself. Mya had tried to talk him into giving it a try, simply for the entertainment value, but Sundance didn’t believe in “letting his hair down” as Iris had put it one time when she’d accused him of being as rigid as an oak. He failed to see how listening to a bunch of tone-deaf drunks doing their best to murder their favorite songs was good fun. He’d rather spend the time fishing or camping. Alone.
He left the bar and headed for the cramped building he called an office that also served as a detainment center/jail for anyone on the reservation who got caught breaking the law. Since the reservation was so small, he was a one-man army as far as law enforcement went and he took that responsibility seriously. He knew the troublemakers and the ones who were harmless nuisances. He also knew who to keep a firm hand on to keep from going bad. And not having a clue as to who had nearly killed Iris in such a brutal attack kept him up at night.
He pulled up and saw Chad Brown waiting for him. Chad hailed him with a wave and a friendly smile, that he returned. “I figured if I waited long enough you’d come along eventually,” he said. “Just thought I’d stop by and say hello. I had a few free minutes in between running errands.”
“You settling in okay? Not getting lost or anything, are you?” he teased his friend.
Chad chuckled. “It’s good to see some things don’t change. It feels good to prowl around the old stomping grounds. Weird, but good. I’d have thought there’d been some things that were different but, nope, everything looks the same. Down to the cracked wallpaper in the men’s bathroom of The Dam Beaver. Damn, doesn’t Butch know that’s unsanitary?”
Sundance laughed. “I try not to frequent the bar if I can help it. You might try it.”
“Quite possibly excellent advice, but I think drinking at home alone says something about you, doesn’t it?” Chad winked.
Sundance laughed and gestured to the station. “Come on in, I’ll show you around, not that the tour is extensive or anything. It’ll take all of five minutes and that’s if I draw it out and show you the backyard.”
“Hey, at least that’s five minutes not spent being my dad’s errand boy, so I’m game.”
Sundance chuckled. He didn’t know the Director of Indian Affairs well—he was just a kid when they’d lived on the reservation—but he’d heard through other channels he was a bit of a bear most times. He supposed working for him—family or not—was probably a major pain in the butt. Sundance went to his minifridge and offered Chad a soda. “Root beer or cola. Sorry no alcohol. Pick your poison.”
“I’m a root beer man,” Chad answered with good humor, accepting the cold beverage. He cracked it and took a good slug. “So, what’s it like being the law here?”
Sundance shrugged, cracking his own soda. “It’s honest work. So, what can I do for you?” he asked.
Chad smiled. “Still, the same old Sundance…to the point. Well, here goes…as you know, my father has given me the title of reservation liaison, that means absolutely nothing in terms of pay grade but means he gets to stay hobnobbing with the bigwigs and I get to do all the travel. I wondered if you might help me get to know the community again so that I’m not a total outsider. I don’t think anyone but you remembers me from when I was a kid.”
“You’d be surprised. Memories are long here,” Sundance said, adding with mock seriousness. “That, for you, might not be a good thing. Remember that time you shaved Miss Mamie’s cat? Yeah, well, she’s still alive and there’s nothing wrong with her memory.”
Chad shuddered. “Damn, she must be a fossil by now. All right, I’ll just take my chances on my own then. Some friend you are,” he said with a snort.
“Hey, don’t blame me. I told you not to shave that cat. You didn’t listen. That’s your cross to bear.”
“Well, if that’s the least of my crimes around here, I’m a lucky son of a bitch.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.” Sundance smiled, their banter reminding him of when he’d visited Chad in their wild days after high school. They’d lost track of each other for a while but they’d found each other again and it felt the same as before. That was the mark of a true friendship in Sundance’s opinion. “All right, getting back to your original request, nothing is going to make the tribe budge faster than good, honest work.”
“Bring it on,” Chad said. “My back is strong and my hands able.”
“Good to know, but in the meantime, let’s see how well you take notes. There’s an issue that’s been shoved under the carpet for too long and it’s coming to a head. It’d be nice to know the tribe had a voice at the Bureau of Indian Affairs.”
“I’m your man,” Chad said. “What’s going on?”
“There’s going to be a meeting tonight over at the Tribal Center about the flood situation facing some of our tribal members. Their ancestral land is being eaten up by the encroaching waters of the Hoh River. We’ve been asking for federal funds to relocate some of the homes in the worst areas of the flood plain.”
“And let me guess, you’re getting stonewalled…”
“You got it.”
Chad rubbed his hands together. “I love a project. Count me in.”
Sundance grinned. The man had enthusiasm. That counted for something in his book. “See you at six o’clock then?”
“You bet.”
His radio went off and CeCe, his dispatcher, said, “Sonny, you’d better head over to Bunny’s place. Sounds like things are getting heated and you know how he gets when he’s had too much drink.”
That he did. William “Bunny” Roberts, like about half the population of the reservation, was out of a job and he self-medicated his depression with plenty of alcohol. Sundance often had to take Bunny in on domestic charges because the man wasn’t exactly soft and cuddly when he was in this kind of state. “Copy that,” he answered into the radio. He returned to Chad. “Duty calls. See you tonight?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Chad followed him outside the building and Sundance locked up. He didn’t wait to see where Chad went from there, he had more important things to do. Like keeping Bunny from pissing off his wife so much that she blew his head from his shoulders with that 12-gauge shotgun Sundance wasn’t supposed to know about.
Iris wasn’t surprised when Mya showed up on her doorstep later that evening after the clinic had closed. She suspected Mya had been after Sundance for details and now that Iris was no longer petrified to leave her bed, she probably figured it was safe to visit.
She opened the front door and found Mya bearing food—as usual—however, this time, Iris offered a genuine smile and invited her in to stay for a while. She’d missed Mya but she hadn’t realized just how much until she read the relief in her best friend’s eyes.
“You look better,” Mya said, trailing behind Iris as they walked to the kitchen so Iris could dish up the casserole Mya had brought. “How are you feeling?”
Ever the doctor, Iris mused silently. She smiled. “Healing, I guess,” she answered.
It’d been almost four weeks since the attack. The worst of the bruising had faded to a pale and sickly yellow but at least the swelling had gone away. There remained one thing she needed to fully put the situation behind her and she wouldn’t get that for a few more days. Mya surmised the direction of her thoughts and said quietly, “The morning-after pill should have prevented…anything from…”
Iris risked a tremulous smile. Great Spirit forgive her, but she hoped and prayed every day that whoever had attacked her hadn’t planted a baby in her womb. She wanted babies someday but not like this. “I know. It’s okay.” She choked down a lump and forced the tears from her eyes. Iris wasn’t going to waste her visit with Mya on crap like this. For heaven’s sake she just wanted to feel normal again. And that included indulging in conversation that wasn’t weighted by sadness and grief. She wiped at her eyes and handed Mya a plate that she almost refused but Iris wasn’t about to eat alone. She’d had enough of that. “Come on now, you brought enough food to feed the entire tribe. The least you could do is sit with me and enjoy it.”
Mya’s smile widened with joy. “I’d be happy to.”
They spent the next hour eating and enjoying each other’s company in a basic bid to reconnect after a horrible tragedy.
Iris hugged Mya and held her tight. “Thank you,” she whispered, tears leaking down her face. “I’m sorry for locking you out.”
“Don’t apologize,” Mya said fiercely. “I wasn’t going anywhere. I was just waiting until you were ready.”
They broke the embrace and Iris wiped at her eyes. She had Sundance to thank for dragging her into the present. Saaski wandered in from her bedroom to settle at her feet. Mya’s eyes widened at the sight of the dark, dangerous-looking dog. “Oh, my, is that…?”
Iris laughed and leaned down to scratch between Saaski’s ears. “Yes, my new personal security system. Isn’t he beautiful?”
“Beautiful, yes. Scary, absolutely,” Mya said, eyeing Saaski with a bit of fear. “Wherever did Sundance find such a dog?”
Iris shrugged. “I don’t know. He said he knew the breeder.”
“A regular dog wouldn’t have done the trick?” Mya asked.
“Sundance must’ve known I needed something with bite. He’s perfect,” she said with admiration, suddenly clarifying, “the dog, not Sundance.”
“I know what you meant.” Mya pushed her plate away and rose to clear the dishes. There was more than her mild concern over Iris’s new dog reflecting in her eyes, and Iris had a feeling it wasn’t good news.
“Out with it, Jonson. You’re terrible at keeping secrets,” Iris said, half joking. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”
Mya flashed a pained smile and Iris loved her all the more for her desire to shield her from whatever was weighing on her mind. “The toxicology results came in right as I was leaving the office.” Iris held her breath and waited. Mya sighed unhappily, continuing, “Your blood tested positive for ketamine.”
“That accounts for the memory loss,” Iris murmured, her dinner sitting like lead in her stomach. “What else did you find?”
Mya shook her head. “Not much. DNA analysis came back negative for matches.”
“So basically, aside from the drug he used, we’ve got nothing useful to catch this person?” At Mya’s nod, Iris swore softly but otherwise tried to keep a level head, which was near impossible when inside she was screaming. “Well, that’s the way it goes, I guess.”
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