The Devil's Woods Page 4

  The aerial view of mountains and valleys took Jessica’s breath away. She snapped several photos. She couldn’t wait to post these on Facebook for all her friends to see. She turned the camera and snapped a few of her pilot.

  Again, Kyle flashed his boyish grin. “Am I going to end up on your travel blog?”

  “If that’s okay,” she said, suddenly feeling intrusive. “It’s not every day I get to be a copilot.”

  “Would you like a quick flying lesson?”

  “Seriously?”

  “I used to work as a flight instructor. I could show you the basics.”

  Jessica shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

  He explained the plane’s many instruments and gauges. Then he pointed above their heads to the engine and flap controls on the ceiling and called the steering wheel thingies in front of each of their seats “yokes”. He talked about flaps and rudders and finding tail winds. Jessica followed some of it, but mostly she found herself studying his face. He was handsome like Eric, but there was something gentle about Kyle that she really liked.

  After a twenty-minute lesson, he said, “Okay, ready to help me fly?”

  “No way. I don’t want to crash the plane.”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you.”

  Jessica took another deep breath. “What do I do?”

  “Take hold of the yoke, like this.”

  Mimicking Kyle, she gripped the copilot’s yoke. The exhilaration of flying sent a thrill through her whole body. “Oh, wow.”

  “Pretty wild, huh?” He held on to his yoke alongside her. For several minutes they flew the plane together, listening to one of Chopin’s piano concertos and cruising over a mountain town. Below, a flock of white birds flew in a V-shaped pattern.

  “This is surreal,” she said.

  “You’re doing great,” his soothing voice spoke through her headphones. “Hold her steady. Feel like you’ve got it under control?”

  She nodded.

  “Good,” Kyle said. “I’m going to let go now.”

  “Oh, no you don’t.”

  “Just for a second. Don’t worry, you’re safe. Keep holding her steady, like that.” He took his hands off the yoke, holding them an inch above it.

  Her heart rate soared. “Oh, my God.”

  Kyle laughed into the headset. “You’re flying.”

  Jessica giggled with excitement. Kyle let her fly solo for several thrilling minutes before he gripped the yoke again. “Nice job, copilot. You just earned your wings.”

  “That was so amazing.” She grinned and looked over her shoulder. Eric was glaring.

  * * *

  After Jessica returned to her seat, Kyle found a nice tailwind and flew high above the Canadian wilderness. The familiar Rocky Mountain vistas brought back memories of last summer’s trip to visit his father. After nearly twenty years of being estranged, Kyle and Jon Elkheart had begun the process of getting to know one another again. At the time, his father had sobered up and was seeing a new woman, Wynona, one of the locals of the town that neighbored the reservation. This week, Kyle planned to visit her and see if she knew where his father had gone.

  Shawna poked her head into the cockpit. “Hey, bro, how long ’til we land?”

  “We’ll be touching down within the hour. Why don’t you keep me company?”

  His sister climbed into the copilot’s seat. They spent the next half hour catching up. She told him about her growing success as a singer for the Black Mollies, a rock band that played in the Seattle area. Shawna had so much potential, if she could just stop destroying herself with drugs.

  Kyle studied his sister. With her arms covered in tattoos and her hair dyed blonde with blue streaks, she barely resembled the baby sister he’d grown up with. Since their mother’s death, Shawna had more or less raised herself. Their stepfather certainly didn’t deserve any credit. Blake Nelson had run their household like a tyrant, trying to discipline the three half-Cree kids into becoming good little Christians. He had whipped them with belts and hammered Jesus into their knuckles with a metal ruler. When that didn’t work, he gave them a hard slap to the face. Blake had liked Eric best because he was obedient and did everything he could to please his stepfather. The old man didn’t care much for Kyle or Shawna, who seemed to have “too much Indian in them” to follow the rules. Hating their home life, Kyle had escaped inward, writing horror novels, while Shawna rebelled through drug abuse and her angry music. Blake still invited them over for Christmas and Thanksgiving, but only Eric ever showed up. They were the picture-perfect dysfunctional family.

  As if reading his mind, Shawna gave him a look that said, We’ve been to hell and back together, big brother, but we’re still here.

  Despite all the bad choices Shawna had made in the past few years, Kyle loved her deeply. Every so often she landed on his doorstep homeless and crashed on his couch. He’d give her some money and then she would disappear again. Maybe this trip would give Kyle an opportunity to be the big brother that he couldn’t be in the past.

  The plane glided over another ridge, and Kyle spotted a belt of thick forest surrounding an emerald-green lake. “Down below is Lake Akwâkopiy,” he said over the intercom. “One of Canada’s hidden treasures.” As Kyle made the final descent, he circled the lake, checking the wind. The plane passed over a lumber mill where hundreds of logs floated on one section of the lake. Men in hardhats drove small motorboats and operated cranes that stacked logs onto the shore next to the mill. Several loggers looked up. “That’s Thorpe Timber’s lumber mill,” Kyle explained. “Almost everyone who lives around Lake Akwâkopiy works there.”

  Flying into the wind now, Kyle powered back and added flaps. The seaplane’s shadow glided across the placid lake. Sparkling with sequins of sunlight, the water along the cove was completely empty of boats. The plane descended with a dip that caused Shawna to laugh. The group cheered as the pontoons skidded across the water toward Hagen’s Cove—a Danish logging town nestled in the pines and protected by a backdrop of granite bluffs. A white church with a high steeple loomed at the center of town. Along the water’s edge stretched the docks of a marina packed with boats. Up the hill stood the Beowulf Lodge and Tavern, a rustic log-and-rock structure that overlooked the lake.

  Kyle said over the intercom, “Welcome to paradise, everyone.”

  Below them on the dock, Ray Roamingbear walked with the aid of a wooden staff. He waved as the plane taxied up to the marina. A man in coveralls tossed a rope around one of the pontoons and pulled the plane to the dock. Kyle cut the engine and Eric opened the hatch. The group climbed out, stretching and taking in the scenery.

  It was a hot summer day, and Shawna wasn’t off the plane two seconds before she stripped down to her bikini top. Zack pulled out his video camera and chased her down the pier. Shawna vogued for the camera. Her antics captured the attention of a handful of locals climbing out of a fishing boat.

  Ray Roamingbear approached wearing a broad smile. “It’s about time you kids came back for a visit. It only took you twenty years. Kyle, it’s been over a year since you last visited.”

  “Sorry,” Kyle said, feeling guilty. “I intended to come back sooner, but life kept getting in the way.”

  Eric shook their cousin’s hand. “We appreciate you inviting us.”

  “Anytime. You guys are family.” Nearing fifty now, Ray had silver streaks in his long black hair. He stood well over six feet and was built strong from his years working as a logger. Most of his muscle had softened since he had retired from the mill. Now he managed the marina and the Beowulf Lodge and Tavern.

  “HHow have you been, Ray?” Kyle asked.

  “Pretty good, I guess. Can’t complain.” He tapped his bum leg. “Except when the weather gets moody.” Ray eyed each of the Elkheart siblings. “Can’t believe you kids are all grown up.” He hobbled with his wooden staff toward Shawna. “When I last saw you, young lady, you were just a tyke in diapers. How old are you now?”

 
“Twenty-two,” she said, suddenly bashful.

  Kyle put an arm around his sister. “Shawna’s the singer for a rock band. Zack here is the drummer. They just signed with a label.”

  Ray raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  Shawna nodded. “We start recording next month. I plan to write a couple songs while I’m here.”

  Ray grinned. “Well, you’ve come to the right place for inspiration. Your grandfather and I sing and play a bit ourselves.”

  Eric said, “I can’t believe we’re actually back in Hagen’s Cove. Ray, you look the same as I remember.”

  “My hair’s turning white and I’ve put on a few pounds.” He let out a husky laugh and looked at Jessica. “Eric, you didn’t say you were bringing such a pretty lady.” Then to Jessica, he said, “The loggers may riot if they get a look at you.”

  She smiled. “I like you already.” Then she gave the big man a hug.

  Ray clapped his hands. “I want you kids to feel at home. You’re welcome to have lunch at the tavern, and I’ve got boats and Seadoos if you want to spend the day out on the lake.”

  “Now, you’re talking.” Eric threw his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder. “It’s time we got this vacation rolling. Let’s get beer and snacks and take a boat out. What do you say, babe?”

  “Whatever the gang wants to do,” Jessica said.

  “Let’s hit the lake!” Shawna said.

  “Hell yeah!” said Zack.

  “All right, then,” Ray said, grinning. As the group followed him down to the marina, Eric, still arm in arm with Jessica, looked back at Kyle. “You coming, bro?”

  “Go on. I’ll catch up.” Kyle watched his brother and Jessica walk away, her head resting on Eric’s shoulder, and tried not to think of his brother’s roster of out-of-town girlfriends. This one was different, special. Kyle thought she deserved better, but it was none of his business.

  After making sure his plane was securely tied to the docks, Kyle stood and inhaled the fresh pine air. The reeds along the banks were alive with croaking frogs and mating dragonflies. He took in the vista of forest and mountains that surrounded Hagen’s Cove. The logging community neighbored their reservation. When Kyle and Eric were boys, they used to ride their bikes through town, checking out the latest comic books at the marina’s general store while Elkheart and Ray put down a few beers at the tavern.

  Hagen’s Cove looked exactly the same as it did when Kyle was ten years old, before his whole world shattered. Since leaving the reservation, his life had been a series of tragedies—growing up with an abusive stepfather, losing his mother to cancer and then his wife to a car accident. Kyle was returning to his Cree roots with many wounds in need of healing. While he was thinking this, an eagle flew overhead. According to legend, eagles were divine messengers, able to commune with the gods. Kyle smiled as the creature’s shadow passed over him. He could use a little divine intervention. Perhaps retreating to the land of his ancestors would help him in a way that psychotherapy could not.

  Chapter Three

  Kendra Meacham gripped her passenger door’s armrest when the semi-truck she’d hitched a ride on turned off Trans-Canada Highway and onto a narrow backwoods road.

  Goodbye civilization. Hello new life in the sticks.

  Calgary was far behind and Kendra almost cried tears of relief that she was going somewhere Jake couldn’t find her. She pulled down her sunglasses and examined her black eye in the side mirror. It hurt every time she blinked. She needed to touch it up with makeup, but didn’t want the truck driver to start asking a bunch of questions.

  Some country song was playing on the radio. Jorgen, the trucker who had been so generous to give her a lift, hummed along, his deep voice way off rhythm.

  Kendra smiled to herself. She felt powerful riding so high up as the eighteen-wheeler carved a swath through a dense evergreen forest.

  “So what takes you to Hagen’s Cove?” Jorgen said with a thick Danish accent.

  “A new job.”

  “Let me guess. Ray Roamingbear hired you to waitress at Beowulf Tavern.”

  “Yeah, how’d you know?”

  “Most girls who move to Hagen’s Cove start off at the tavern.”

  “Oh.” The way he worded it made Kendra think of the last strip club she’d worked at. Most girls start out as cocktail waitresses, her oily-haired manager had said. Then you work your way up to the stage where you can make some serious cash. And if you do special favors for me, I’ll give you special treatment. She had hoped to be done with working for slimeballs. The Beowulf Tavern that she’d found on the Internet wasn’t a strip joint. An old-fashioned bar and grill that overlooked a lake. The photos had made it look like an oasis hidden away from the modern world. The man who ran the tavern had seemed nice enough on the phone, but Kendra had a pattern of gravitating toward the wrong men. For the first time, she felt apprehensive about leaving the city for some backwoods town. “How does Ray Roamingbear treat the waitresses?”

  “Like his own kin,” the truck driver said.

  “Does he have a high turnover rate?”

  “Only when the seasons change. Summer kids go back to college. Locals work the off season.” Jorgen looked over at her. “You sure are starting late in the summer. Is this a permanent stop for you?”

  “I don’t know, maybe. Have any of the women ever complained about Ray?”

  “Nah. Don’t worry. He’s a good man. A well-respected Cree First Nation. You’ll see.”

  They rode in silence for a while. The eighteen-wheeler trundled along, the chains rattling on its long flatbed trailer. She was amazed how there was nothing for miles along this road except endless walls of trees broken up by the occasional rise of a rocky cliff. They passed a moose crossing sign, and then a few kilometers later, a bear crossing sign. I’m not in Kansas anymore, she mused. The road narrowed, as if the forest on either side were trying to twine back together. Overgrown branches scraped the tops and sides of the truck. Kendra caught herself squeezing her armrest.

  “You got a place to live?” Jorgen asked.

  “Not yet. Ray’s putting me up at the lodge until I find a place to rent.”

  “I can ask around town for you. I know a good many folks.”

  “Thanks. That would be nice.”

  “Nothing to it. In these parts, we help our own. I scratch your back and you scratch mine, if you know what I mean.”

  Kendra slid over against the door and looked out her side window. “How much farther?”

  “About fifteen kilometers.” Jorgen hummed along with another country song.

  She pulled out her cell phone. She had no bars, not that she had anyone to call. There were a dozen text messages from Jake. She didn’t dare read them.

  The truck suddenly came to a stop at a junction. The brakes made a hissing sound.

  Kendra looked at the trucker with the heavy sideburns. “Something wrong?”

  “I’ve reached my destination.” Jorgen pointed to a sign: Thorpe Timber Mill and Logging Company. A dirt road led into another part of the forest. “I’m gonna have to let you off here.”

  Kendra’s heart dropped. “But this is the middle of nowhere. Can’t you take me all the way into town?”

  “Sorry, miss, I got a shipment to pick up. Can’t be late. You’ll have to hitch another ride.”

  She hadn’t seen any other cars since they turned off the highway. She stared at the narrow paved road that snaked into a dark patch of woods. “Please, I’ll pay you to drive me into town. I can give you twenty bucks.”

  “I don’t want your money. But I can think of another way you can pay me.” Jorgen grinned at her. “How ’bout a ride for a ride?” He nodded toward the bed area behind their seats. The twisted sheets smelled of sweat and cigarettes.

  “I’d rather walk.” Kendra picked up her backpack and opened the passenger door.

  Jorgen grabbed her wrist. “Then how ’bout a blow job, you little whore?” He forced her head down to the bulge o
f his crotch.

  Kendra clawed his arm and ripped loose from his hold. She scrambled for the door.

  “Oh, don’t leave.” Jorgen’s hands grabbed her from behind, squeezing her breasts. “We’re just getting started.”

  “Let go of me!” Kendra pulled a taser out of her purse and zapped his ribs with five thousand volts of don’t fuck with me. His eyes rolled back. He flopped against the seat, gibbering.

  She leaped out of the truck, landing hard on her ankle. “Damn it!” She limped down the road, backpack and purse slung over one shoulder, taser gripped in her fist. She reached the junction of the dirt road and considered walking toward the timber mill. Maybe a lumberjack would give her a ride into town. But there was no mill in sight, just a lonely dirt road that stretched about a hundred yards before the forest swallowed it.