Thunder Moon Read online

  She worked at the Watering Hole—a local tavern, located as far away from Center Street as it could get and still be in town—as a bartender. The place was rough. I’d been there half a dozen times in the last month on disturbance calls, and I usually worked the day shift.

  The door to Ian’s clinic opened and another woman stepped out, in her hand a similar jar, although the liquid inside held a greenish tint. I recognized Merry Gray, and I left Katrine behind without so much as a good-bye.

  “Well, ain’t that just like you, Grace McDaniel,” Katrine shouted after me. “You always did have the manners of a savage.”

  Since I didn’t particularly care if I did or I didn’t, and I certainly didn’t care if Katrine thought so, I kept walking.

  The clinic had improved since I’d been there last. The lower floor had been cleaned and painted a calming pale blue. Someone had thrown up drywall, creating a separation between the waiting room and the receptionist’s desk, although there wasn’t any receptionist. Past that, three exam rooms had been roughed in. A fourth appeared to be done, since Ian walked out of it wearing the traditional white coat over a pair of khaki slacks, a mint green shirt, and a tan tie.

  “How did you get all this done?” I blurted. He’d only been in town a few days, and a lot of that time had been spent with me.

  “You’d be amazed at what you can accomplish if you’re willing to pay for it.”

  “What did you give Mrs. Gray?”

  He stiffened as if I’d jabbed him in the butt with a stick, which wasn’t a half-bad idea. “That’s none of your business, Sheriff.”

  “It is if you’re selling her lime-flavored water and calling it a miracle. She’s dying.”

  “Then I doubt lime-flavored water would hurt her.” His voice and posture gentled.

  The entire town knew Merry Gray had endured every cure available to modern science in an attempt to kill the tumors raging inside of her. Instead of growing smaller, the cancer seemed to feed on the chemo and the radiation, multiplying out of control and making her sicker and sicker.

  “I don’t want her hopes up,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “You give her green water and tell her it’ll heal her, then it doesn’t? That’s criminal, Doctor.”

  “I’d say what’s happening to her is criminal. I’ve given her nothing that will hurt, and I have every reason to believe it could help. She’s exhausted all other avenues of treatment.”

  “I don’t want her disappointed.”

  “It’s been proven that a person’s attitude can mean as much or more to their health than the actual medicine.”

  “Did you give her a placebo?”

  “I’m not telling you what I gave her.”

  “What about Katrine? There’s nothing wrong with her.”

  “I know.” His lips quirked. I had a strong feeling that Katrine was the one with the placebo.

  “The way you do business doesn’t sit right with me.” The way he did a lot of things no longer sat quite right.

  “Let’s make an agreement. You don’t tell me how to deal with my patients, and I won’t tell you how to beat a confession out of a subject.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “And I wouldn’t give people anything I didn’t think could help them. When I take an oath, I live by it.”

  “ ‘Do no harm.’ “

  “Among others.” Ian stepped in, quick and close, startling me so much any questions I might have asked got caught in my throat.

  “The balm I gave you worked.” His long, slightly rough fingers brushed my cheek, and my eyelids fluttered closed.

  The scent of him brought back the feel of his body in mine. His breath stirred my temple. I wanted so badly to touch him, to have him touch me.

  “You should trust me,” he whispered.

  My eyes shot open; my chin came up. His face was so close our lips nearly brushed before I backed away. “You haven’t been trustworthy so far.”

  “You took me to see Quatie; you had to have trusted me then.”

  Which only made the loss of trust in him now hurt worse. “If you lie about one thing, you’ll lie about everything.”

  His mouth tightened, as if he were trying to hold his temper. But when he spoke his voice was so calm I wanted to shriek. “You’re not mad about my business; you’re mad about my wife.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m mad about both. I don’t trust you. For all I know you could be doling out poison.”

  A surprised bark of laughter escaped him, more convincing than any denial would have been. “Why would I do that?”

  “Why would you tell me your wife was dead when she’d disappeared?”

  “I never said she was dead.”

  “You never said she was alive, either.”

  He sighed. “This is getting us nowhere.”

  “Where did you want to go?”

  The look he sent me left no room for misunderstanding. He wanted to go back to bed—immediately.

  My body reacted as if he’d run his beautiful hands all over me. I longed for him, and I hated myself for it.

  “Put that right out of your head. We won’t be going there. Not ever again.”

  “You’re overreacting.”

  “Marriage means something, Ian.” I thought of my mother. “Or at least it should. And lying—” I stopped.

  Why did it bother me so much? Probably because so many men had told me what I wanted to hear, then walked out on me.

  You ‘re beautiful, Grace.

  I love you, Grace.

  I’ll never leave you, Grace.

  My wife is gone, Grace.

  So I’d started saying good-bye to them before they could say good-bye to me. It was the only way I could keep from getting hurt. I’d waited too long this time.

  “This was crazy from the beginning,” I said. “We met three nights ago. Two nights ago we went to the water and—”

  “Had sex,” he finished.

  “It was too much, too fast. I thought—” I broke off, unable to finish.

  He took a step forward, and I narrowed my eyes, daring him to come any closer. His fingers curled against the legs of his slacks, the scritch of his fingernails loud in the sudden silence. “Thought what?”

  I’d thought it had meant something. I should have known better. Just because he was Cherokee didn’t make him any less of a man.

  Chapter 21

  I walked out, and Ian let me. I hadn’t really expected anything else. It wasn’t as if he loved me. It wasn’t as if I loved him.

  No time to weep and wail—as if I would. I had an appointment at the cemetery.

  Luckily, all of the churches still buried their dead outside of town. We’d have fewer gawkers that way. Not that word of what we were doing wouldn’t get around, but the longer it took, the better.

  I turned my car in the opposite direction of Lunar Lake. In the old days it was common practice to construct burial plots as far away from the populace as possible, mostly to keep the roving bands of wild animals from dragging a stray leg or arm under your porch. As time went on and Lake Bluff grew, there wasn’t room for a cemetery in the town proper, but there was plenty of space to expand out where the dead had already been established.

  I turned into the gate of Mountain View, saw Doc Bill’s car parked near what must be the grave we were interested in, and pulled up behind him.

  Doc was already giving instructions to the man standing next to the machinery. Since he’d only been buried yesterday, no grass covered the grave of Alec Renard, just dirt. According to his obituary, Alec had expired from a stroke. However, according to Alec’s granddaughter, whom I’d spoken with fourth on my happy hit parade of interrogation, Granddad had been as healthy as a horse.

  Until he died.

  Doc finished speaking with the worker and headed toward me across the lush green carpet that covered the majority of Mountain View.

  There truly was a mountain view here, not that any of the
residents would benefit by it. Or maybe they would. What did I know?

  This would have been a nice place for my father, except he’d been cremated per his instructions. I’d wanted to keep his ashes with me in the town and the home he’d loved, but he’d specified that all five of his children would take turns. You’d be amazed at some of the stuff people put in their last will and testament. Sheriff McDaniel, senior, had been no exception.

  Grandmother had been buried like a true Cherokee on the slope of a forest-clad mountain. Illegal as hell, but by the time I’d told Dad about it, the deed was done.

  He hadn’t been happy. My father was the law here, and even if he hadn’t disliked Grandmother with an intensity rivaled only by her dislike for him, he would have put a stop to her being buried as she’d wanted to be. To him, the law was the law and human remains were not to be put into the earth without observation of the required legalities.

  I glanced at the white stone markers. It would have been nice to have her closer, in a place like this where I could visit. Although, according to Quatie, Grandmother wasn’t available for visits since she was running around on great, big wolf paws trying to tell me something.

  I choked back inappropriate laughter as Doc Bill joined me.

  “You okay?” He thumped me between the shoulder blades, just in case.

  “Yes. Thanks.” I stepped out of his reach. He might be old, but he still packed quite a punch. “Everything set?”

  I indicated the grave, where the man fiddled with a machine as if he were dealing with a recalcitrant child. I even heard the distant sound of his voice, cajoling, praising. He started the engine, then patted the metal monstrosity gratefully.

  “He’s going to dig up the vault, remove the top, then leave it to us to open the casket.” Doc cast me a sidelong glance. “In case the thing’s empty.”

  Which would be a little hard to explain.

  “I doubt that’ll happen,” I said.

  “No?”

  “I’ve been interviewing the relatives.”

  “Do tell.”

  I motioned for Doc to follow me farther away from the gravesite, since talking for any length of time where we stood would have necessitated shouting over the sound of the machinery.

  I told him everything. When I was through, Doc asked, “Conclusions?”

  I pulled out the notebook I’d been scribbling in when I ran into Katrine. “The deceased were either old or ill. They were expected to die, though, in most cases, not quite yet. They all passed on in the night, seeming to gasp for breath in their last moments.”

  “But none of them died from asphyxiation. Or with any signs that they’d been deprived of oxygen or any bruises that would match strangulation.”

  He’d answered my next question before I’d even voiced it. I liked that in a doctor.

  “Those who could speak,” I continued, “and had a nurse or family member present to hear them, believed there was someone or something in the room, though no one else saw or heard anything.”

  “Could easily have been the presence of a loved one who’d gone before.”

  I lifted my eyebrows. “Seriously?”

  “You think only evil entities come back from beyond?”

  “I hadn’t thought of anything coming back from beyond. But now I will. Thanks.”

  He shrugged in lieu of apology. “I’ve been in attendance at enough deaths to know that there’s something waiting on the other side. Sometimes, the other side comes over and gets us.”

  His face took on an appearance of rapture at odds with the slightly cranky Doc Bill I knew and loved. I wasn’t sure how to deal with him, except to move on.

  “Since all of our victims died with an expression of surprise, perhaps shock, or even fear on their faces, maybe every one of them was visited by a loved one they’d hoped never to see again.”

  “Everyone I’ve ever observed in that situation dies at peace. It’s made me believe in the afterlife along with the ghosts and goblins, witches, warlocks, and werewolves.”

  Since I knew he wasn’t kidding about the werewolves, I had to figure he wasn’t kidding about the other entities, either, but right now I really didn’t want to know.

  “You think our victims aren’t getting a glimpse of the great beyond, they’re getting a glimpse of their killer—invisible as he or she might be?”

  “Perhaps,” Doc said. “Don’t forget, the lack of a heart has made us conclude that the victims themselves could be supernatural.”

  “That doesn’t preclude them being frightened of whatever’s killing them.”

  Doc frowned.

  “What?”

  “I was just imagining what might frighten a being that has no heart. I don’t think I want to meet it.”

  I didn’t, either, but I had a hunch I was going to.

  The sudden cessation of sound had us both glancing toward the gravesite. A coffin-shaped vault now rested aboveground rather than below. The worker indicated with a wave of one gloved hand that Doc and I could return.

  “One more thing,” I said as we headed across the grass in that direction. “In several of my interviews, relatives or friends who were either with or near the deceased reported hearing an unearthly shrieking right before the victim began to gasp for breath.”

  “Shrieking from the victim?”

  “Some didn’t know, but the ones who did said it definitely didn’t come from the victim. The scream was so loud it seemed to come from the air itself. A few saw bright sparkling lights as well.”

  “The killer, whatever it is, announces itself with a shriek and some sparks?” Doc contemplated my face. “What else?”

  “I heard a shriek and saw a trail of sparks fall from the sky on the night of the Thunder Moon.”

  “The what?”

  “The full moon in July is known as the Thunder Moon. Then people started to die.”

  “That was the night of the big storm.”

  “According to Cherokee legend, when thunder arrives on such a night, magic happens.”

  We reached the gravesite. The worker strolled off to have a cigarette under a tree at the edge of the last line of stones. The top of the vault rested against the side, leaving the rectangular container open.

  “You think we’ve got an alien?” Doc asked.

  I gaped. “What?”

  “Falls from the sky in a shower of sparks, then invisibly starts to kill people—or perhaps unpeople— definitely heartless people, literally, which cannot by any stretch of the anatomy be people. What do you think?”

  “I think you’ve been watching a little too much Predator, pal.”

  Although now that I thought about it, there had been that weird crater Cal and I had found after those sparks tumbled from the sky.

  “Predator?” Doc asked. “Is that some new reality show?”

  “Arnold, Doc. He commandos in to some bizarre jungle and fights a monster from another planet.” At his continued blank stare, I gave him one more clue. “Schwarzenegger?”

  “The governator? I never much cared for him. Too puffy.” He made a fierce face and brought his scrawny arms into a muscleman pose in front of his body. “Errrr!”

  I had to laugh, though I sobered quickly enough as I stared at the vault in front of us. “You really think we’ve got aliens in Lake Bluff?”

  “We had werewolves.”

  The man made an excellent point.

  “What if we have aliens in town, then an alien hunter arrives on a sparkling trail of stars?” Doc suggested. “And when he—she—it kills the aliens he—she—it screeches, like a battle cry.”

  “If that’s the case,” I said, “then where did the original aliens come from?”

  “Pods?” Doc slid a glance my way. “Invasion of the Body Snatchers. That one I know.” He jerked a thumb toward the vault. “Shall we?”

  We stepped forward until we could see the casket ensconced within. A lot of people don’t know that you need to purchase not only a casket for the dece
ased but also a vault for both to go into before the burial. Even if the loved one is cremated, a casket is still required. The item is just burned with them. Death is both a huge and a strange business.

  Doc leaned over and went to work removing the top of the casket. Of its own accord, my hand went to the butt of my gun. Unfortunately, a bullet, silver or lead, could do nothing to eliminate the smell.

  “Why is the smell so bad so soon?” I asked, putting my other palm to my nose.

  “No embalming, Sheriff, and it’s July in Georgia. What did you expect?”

  I wasn’t sure. More action from the corpse, less smell than we had. Wrong on both counts.

  “Although...” Doc paused. “For an alien, this corpse is behaving pretty human.”

  “Whatever he is,” I said, “he’s here.” Which took care of any vampire, zombie, ghoul theories, not that I’d been all that wild about them. “Now what?”

  “Now I open him up and see what made him tick, unless he didn’t tick, which seems to be the case with everyone I’ve opened up lately.”

  Doc lifted hand, and I turned. A hearse bounced toward us over the rutted dirt path.

  “What’s that for?”

  “You didn’t think I was going to crack his chest right here in front of God and the cemetery guy, did you?”

  I hadn’t really thought of it at all.

  I was trying not to.

  Chapter 22

  After making Doc promise to call me as soon as he had news, as if he wouldn’t, I left him to deal with the hearse and the body. I went to meet Claire and Mal.

  As I drove back to Lake Bluff, I considered Doc’s “alien” theory. I didn’t buy it; however, if it were true, then these people had to have become “other” sometime in their lifetime. They couldn’t have been born that way.

  Lack of a heart would have been revealed, if not when they were babies, then somewhere along the line. People didn’t go through an entire lifetime without having a chest X-ray.