December 29th

 

THE CAR HUGGED the curves of the road as we sped up the interstate on our way to Cherokee. Lara sat next to me, scrolling on her phone, researching rules and regulations with Native American reservations. She was completely one hundred percent focused on this case while my mind continued to focus on Grace. Over the years, I’d had plenty of friends who were girls, but not one of them had ever looked at me the same way as Grace did. Even Megan, who I’d been sleeping with for two years, didn’t look at me like that. Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe I was misinterpreting every look, every touch, and every smile. I kept telling myself that’s all it was, but there was always a nagging suspicion I was just lying to myself. I loved her. I couldn’t deny it or hide it anymore. But how could I replace my best friend? Chloe had told me I couldn’t, and she was absolutely correct, but she also told me I made her mom happy; that somewhere under all those layers, Grace loved me too. Could I take that risk? If I was wrong, I could lose her forever. How could I lose her forever? Hope and guilt split me in two.

“So, how do we go about this?” I asked Lara, trying to get out of my head. “Are we allowed to question him on the reservation?”

“Well,” Lara dragged out the word. “He won’t technically be on the reservation when we question him. He’ll be in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. Also, we’re only going to see him to inform him of the death of his niece. He is the only living relative after all. It’s not as if we’re interrogating him. We’re just asking a few random questions. We can’t arrest him though. That has to go through the Tribal Counsel or the FBI. I highly doubt it will come to that.”

“In your gut, do you think he did it?”

“Nope,” she said without hesitation. “Not one bit.”

“What makes you say that? I mean, I don’t think he did either, but how did you jump to that conclusion?”

“The Cherokees are a strong family oriented tribe. Most active tribes are still that way. That’s why they’re still around. Kind of like, for example, the wolves in Twilight.”

“Do what?”

Is she serious right now?

“The wolves in Twilight. They were a part of a Native American tribe.”

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Did you not see the movie?”

“No. I don’t do sparkly things.”

“How do you know about Edward sparkling?”

“I’m around an eleven-year-old enough to know that much.”

“Did you at least read the book?”

I stared at her and cocked my eyebrow.

She shrugged. “I just figured everyone knew Twilight.”

“I know a little about it.”

“Like what?”

“Like asking questions about what team you’re on.”

“Oh, Team Jacob all the way.”

“Why Jacob?”

“I don’t do sparkly things either.”

I laughed. “So, are we going to run into any wolves while we’re up here?”

“No. I think we should be fine, but my point here is that I just don’t see the Cherokee having any form of hatred toward their own blood, for money or any other reason.” She paused and added, “I think this is the exit we take to get to his store.”

I jerked the wheel to the left and swerved into the exit lane, pulling quickly off the interstate. I turned onto a two-way street lined with trees. The tips of the trees, like the peaks of the distant mountains, were dusted with snow.

“The store should be right up here.”

I slowed the car through the turn and pulled into a gravel parking lot alongside an outpost. The gravel slowly popped under the tires as I rolled to a stop. We stepped out of the car and walked toward a small store that was basically a cabin in the middle of nowhere. The wrap around front porch held several rocking chairs that continued around the side of the cabin. I followed the porch until it opened up, looking out over the mountain range. In the summer, the view would be obscured behind all of the leaves on the trees, but in winter, the barren trees gave way to a breathtaking view. I had seen these mountains all my life, but I never tired from the wonder of this snow-capped range.

“Wyatt,” Lara called from the front of the outpost. I blinked myself alert and turned to walk back to the front. An open sign hung on a screen door. Lara pulled the handle, the squeak of the hinges announcing our arrival. The smell of wood and earth surrounded me. I breathed in and felt instantly calm. It was the first time I’d felt calm all week. The store was filled with nostalgic candy, dream catchers, local maps, an old drink vending machine, and paintings depicting spectacular landscapes and Cherokee heritage.

We heard a door being pulled closed at the back of the cabin. Lara and I stepped toward the counter as a man came toward us. He stopped about ten feet from us and stared at us. His skin was darkly tanned and he kept his jet-black hair pulled back in a ponytail. He wore a simple button-down shirt and jeans.

“Can I help you?” he asked slowly and quietly as if not to disturb the world that surrounded us.             

“Are you Dakotah Gunter?” Lara asked.

“I am.” He came a few steps closer and placed his hands on the counter. His scrutinizing gaze shifted from Lara to me as he asked, “What’s this about?”

“Do you have a niece by the name of Erica Gunter?”

He stilled. “Is something wrong?”

“Mr. Gunter,” Lara started. “I’m sorry to inform you, but your niece was found murdered the morning of the twenty-seventh.”

“No. That can’t be.” His face paled as he absorbed the news.

“When was the last time you saw Erica?” I asked.

“It was here in this shop … on the twenty-sixth.” A tear rolled down his cheek.

“Mr. Gunter, where were you the night of the twenty-sixth?” Lara asked.

He hung his head and slowly shook it back and forth. “That can’t be. I just saw her.”

“Mr. Gunter, did Erica visit you often?”

“All the time. We were the only family we had left.”

Lara and I exchanged glances.

“She wanted to go to nursing school. We were working through the forms to apply for one of those Native American scholarships. The inheritance her grandmother left her could help to provide for her, but it wasn’t enough to pay for school.”

“Were you bitter she received the inheritance?” Lara asked.

He was taken back. “What? No. I told my mother to give it to her. She had no one else. Why would I be bitter? I gave her money too. She’s all I’ve got left and that asgina who called himself her father wasn’t much of a man. I wanted a better life for her. She got angry with me for wanting her to marry within the tribe, said she was interested in some bartender. A bartender!” He shook his head, wiped his eyes and stared into nothing. “I loved her like my own daughter. I only wanted what was best for her. I asked her to come and live with me on the reservation to save the money so she wouldn’t have to struggle so hard, but she refused. After my mother died, I tried so hard to be everything she needed.” His lip quivered and he couldn’t hold back the tears. “And now she’s gone. Everything she went through … How? How did she die?”

Lara and I looked at each other, a silent debate over who was going to tell him the truth.

“Her throat was slit,” I told him. I didn’t go into the details of how she was found, knowing it would be too much for the grieving Mr. Gunter to deal with at that moment.

He uttered a string of words in his native language. I couldn’t decipher anything he said.

“Mr. Gunter, where were you the night of the twenty-sixth?” Lara repeated her initial question, reeling him back to the task at hand.

“I was here having drinks with a few of my people. Since it’s illegal on the reservation, we meet here sometimes to partake.” He shook his head again in disbelief. “She was the light in my life. After my wife died, Erica was the only thing that kept me going.” He breathed out, calmed himself, and then eyed us closely. “You don’t look like Federal agents. Am I a suspect?”

“No, sir. You’re not a suspect,” Lara answered. “We just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

He met our stares, nodded, and pushed himself away from the counter. We watched him walk back toward the door he’d entered through. The door opened with a slight creak and closed softly behind him.

Lara spun on her heel and headed for the front door. I lingered a while longer, waiting to see if the man returned. Once I felt positive he was never coming back, I made a quick exit and met up with Lara at the car. We pulled out of the gravel parking lot, our brains in overdrive. The tires met the pavement and smoothly moved along an eerie, cold road.

“If Erica and her uncle were so close, why wouldn’t she mention him to anyone?” Lara pondered, drawing me in to share her puzzlement.

“So, the errand Erica told Camille she was running that morning was a discreet trip up the mountain to see her uncle. Why would she keep their relationship a secret? Do you think she was ashamed of her heritage in some way?”

“Maybe it was the opposite and she didn’t know how to share it with people,” Lara replied. “We’re white people, Wyatt. We don’t exactly know anything about Native familial politics, or what it’s like to actually live on a reservation. We live in a world where if someone doesn’t look or act the same as everyone else, they’re automatically labeled outsiders and are treated like second-class citizens. You only have to mention the term Native American to people and inevitably someone will mention casinos or some old cowboy western.”

“I understand what you’re saying, but don’t hate on cowboys.”

She ignored me as she typed on her phone. “What did he call her father? Asgina? Was that it?”

“Maybe? I didn’t understand what he said. Do you know what it means?”

“I’m searching for that now. Oh …” She paused and glanced up from her phone. I looked between her and the road, eagerly waiting for her to fill me in..

“What?” I asked.

“This site says asgina means evil ghost.”

I considered it for a moment. “You know, Erica’s skin complexion was quite a bit lighter than her uncle’s.”

“Are you saying you think her father is white?”

“If they weren’t living on the reservation, and if Dakotah Gunter holds so much hate for him, it’s might be fair to assume he’s white.”

“Dakotah Gunter struck me as a man undeniably proud of his heritage,” Lara reasoned. “As I said before, the Cherokee are very family oriented, which would explain why he’d want to keep his niece on the reservation, but it feels like there’s something more to it.”

“Something like a man not being responsible enough to raise his daughter?”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.

“I’m thinking we need to track down her father right away.”

She smiled. “Glad to see that we’re in synch. Maybe this is the beginning of a glorious partnership.”