CHAPTER TWELVE

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Lindsay woke about five-thirty in the morning. The house felt silent—no one had stirred yet. She checked on Ska, who was sleeping soundly. She stood and opened the door quietly, remembering that she’d have to walk across the living room to the bathroom. She tiptoed. The hard wood floor was cold—it sent a chill up her legs as she walked. As she passed Neha’s room, she heard the police band radio playing faintly. She probably had it on all night, listening for any scrap of news.

Rainhorse appeared to be sleeping soundly on the couch. Lindsay half expected that he’d find his way into Neha’s bed, but remembered the context of the situation. Neha’s daughter had been kidnapped. Rainhorse had always been the consummate gentleman.  Even if Neha had wanted to, he would not have allowed himself to have sex with her, not yet, not while she was in such a vulnerable state.

She made her way to the bathroom, closed the door, and sat on the toilet. As she sat, she checked her phone for texts for the first time.  Her mother had texted her three times, all with messages asking if she had arrived in California safely.

Good, she thought. Her mother suspected nothing . . . yet.  She texted back, ‘All good. Safe and sound. I have a big day ahead. Talk to you soon. Love you.’

She flushed the toilet and began to wash her hands. She smelled a faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Someone was up. When she opened the door, she saw Rainhorse, standing, bare-chested, pulling up his jeans.

“Ellie is pulling up the driveway,” he said. “Neha has coffee going.”

“How did it go last night after I went to bed?” she whispered.

“She hasn’t kick me to the curb . . . yet,” he said. “At some point, you and I are going to have to talk about how to describe the first time we met.”

“I know. It wasn’t my finest hour. I’ll fix it later today when it’s just me and her, ok?”

“No, please. Just leave it be. Promise me.”

“Ok, ok! I’ll put on some clothes and give Ellie and Ska the bedroom,” Lindsay said, remembering Neha’s offer to let her wear some of Lona’s clothes. In the bedroom, Lindsay thumbed through some of Lona’s clothes. They were all Native American fashion. The young teenager actually had quite beautiful taste, she thought. Lona’s shirts were a little larger than she normally wore, but the pants were perfect.

She picked a colorful top and slipped it on. She also found the most adorable overalls, embroidered in Native American-styled patches in the front and on the sides. She slipped them on and checked herself out in the full-length mirror fixed to the back of the bedroom door.  She loved what she saw.

She heard Rainhorse speaking to a woman out in the living room. Then there was a knock on the bedroom door. Lindsay opened the door and saw Ellie Limberhand for the first time.

“So, you are the young woman Rainhorse thought was worth dying for,” she said.

“Lindsay Vanderbilt,” came the reply. She extended her hand. Ellie shook it.

Ellie was tall and a little on the hefty side. She was dressed in a plain, oversized red top and jeans. She was large breasted and wide around the shoulder. Her hips and legs were thin, presenting a top-heavy contrast in stature. Her hair was black, but graying, short, parted down the middle. Her face was round, with dark freckles dotting her cheeks and nose.

“Where is our patient?” Ellie asked.

“She’s inside the bedroom.”

“I don’t know much, other than she is hooked on meth,” Ellie said. “What can you tell me about her?”

“Not much,” Lindsay said. “Her name is Ska Red Feather. I just met her yesterday. She is probably older than me but not by much. She is very thin and gaunt. She was really tired and having severe headaches as we drove here. I know she lives with her boyfriend, who is also a meth abuser.”

“Do you know if she shoots it or smokes it?” Ellie asked.

“Shoots it. There are track marks all over her arms,” Lindsay said. “Is there a difference between smoking and injecting?”

Ellie nodded, "Smoking meth is more addictive but shooting is more dangerous in many ways. Injecting drugs comes with its own unique risks. Many, perhaps most meth users end up reusing and sharing needles. Needle sharing puts users at a high risk for HIV and hepatitis C. Reuse of needles tends to cause infections and collapsed veins. The meth particles in the solution can cause blockages in and near the heart, brain, and liver, causing serious health problems. The substance can also cause infection of the heart tissue, which is a very dangerous condition.”

“Oh dear, that sounds awful,” Lindsay said.

“It is not a forgiving drug,” Ellie replied.

“Who’s there, Lindsay,” Ska asked, sitting up on her elbows. “I hear people out there.”

“I’m Ellie,” she replied, walking through the door. Lindsay followed her inside.

“Ellie is here to help you,” Lindsay said.

“I need some crank,” Ska pleaded. “That’s how she can help me.”

Ellie smiled at Lindsay, directing her out of the room with a quick nod toward the door.

Lindsay nodded and turned to Ska, “I’ll be out front if you need me.”

“Ok,” Ska replied.

Lindsay walked out of the bedroom to find an empty living room, “We’re in here,” Neha said, calling from the kitchen. “You want coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Lindsay said. Rainhorse was sitting at the kitchen table. Neha was at the counter of the small kitchen, pouring coffee.

Neha stopped and took in a breath when she saw Lindsay enter the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” Lindsay asked.

Neha exhaled deeply and shook her head, fighting off tears, “Nothing. It’s just seeing you . . . in Lona’s outfit. . . it is her favorite.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lindsay said. “I thought you said it was ok. I can change . . .”

“No, no, please,” Neha insisted. “You look beautiful in them. It’s just that seeing you dressed in her clothes . . . it reminded me so much of . . . I’m so sorry. I just miss Lona so much.”

“I understand,” Lindsay said, moving to Neha.  She hugged her. Neha took a moment to compose herself. She smiled at Lindsay and touched her cheeks with both hands.

“How about you, Jackson?” Lindsay said. “You don’t look very happy to see me in these clothes.”

“I like it,” he said.

“You don’t look like you like it.”

Rainhorse looked at her straight-faced, “This is how I look when I am happy.”

“I was just telling Rainy that I’ve been up for a while, listening to the police band chatter and checking the radio and television for news,” Neha said. “It’s very early but the police are still spinning their wheels at this point. No one has been able to identify the mystery white girl who was at the diner. The media are debating whether the white girl was abducted by the murder suspect or was part of some plan to kill Apollo and HRT.”

“That is good news for us,” Rainhorse said.

“What’s the plan?” Lindsay asked.

Rainhorse took a sip of his coffee, “When I first met Vern Gill, he told me about the regular Thursday meeting at the diner between Apollo and Hank Rattling Thunder. He also told me that Apollo has an office in Plentywood in a double-wide trailer behind an auto-body shop. I am going to stake out the trailer and see if I can capture Apollo.”

“Won’t he be on high alert after yesterday?” Lindsay asked.

“It is possible,” Rainhorse said. “However, I think it is more likely that he believes I am on the run. He and HRT very likely have an organized search effort to find me. I doubt very much that he thinks I will attack him at his home base. Perhaps I can reclaim my element of surprise.”

“That’s so dangerous, Jackson,” Lindsay argued.

“I agree,” Neha said. “The police already think you are off the reservation. You don’t want to be seen in Plentywood.”

“There will be some risk, no doubt,” Rainhorse admitted, “but I have few other options. With every day that passes, our chances of finding Lona get smaller and smaller. Right now, Apollo has no idea who I am or what I was after yesterday but make no mistake—he is not a stupid man. If he catches on that I am trying to disrupt his sex trade, Lona will disappear forever and very quickly.”

“I can help you,” Lindsay said.

“I can’t chance it,” Rainhorse responded.

 “You said you wanted to help,” Neha said. “We have a job for you that will help us.”

Lindsay looked at her suspiciously, “A job? What is it?”

Neha sipped her coffee and sat the cup on the table, “Rainy tells me that Ska told him about a man named Joey Takoda, as someone who is a known associate of Hank Rattling Thunder.”

“That’s right,” Lindsay replied.

“I know of this man, too,” Neha said.

“You do?”

She nodded, “He is the uncle of two Sioux teenagers, twins—friends of Lona.”

“Are you sure?” Lindsay asked.

“Positive,” Neha answered. “I’ve heard Lona talking about him in the past. She described him as ‘creepy.’ He apparently shows up at odd times around the twins when they have a get together with other girls from school. Lona said he frequently buys them pizza and soft drinks but is a bit too . . . familiar . . . with their friends.”

“It’s very possible that Takoda may be one of the ones who identifies and targets the girls for Rattling Thunder to kidnap for Apollo,” Rainhorse noted. “He may be the link to Lona’s kidnapping.”

“He does sound creepy,” Lindsay said. “Who are these twins?”

“Their names are Chumani and Chapa,” Neha said. “They go to school with Lona. I have their pictures on Lona’s phone. The police found Lona’s phone in a trash can the day she was kidnapped. They gave it back to me after they studied its contents.”

“How can I help?” Lindsay asked.

“Today is Friday. On Fridays, after school, Lona used to meet Chumani and Chapa at the soda shop at Wolf Point mall.”

“This was near the spot where she was kidnapped?”

Neha nodded, “That’s right. I want you to pose as Lona’s cousin, Rani, from Wyoming. The twins know about Lona’s cousin but they’ve never met her.”

“I don’t get it,” Lindsay said. “Other than the clothes, I don’t look Sioux.”

“If you’re willing to let me dye and straighten your hair and apply some makeup, I can fix that,” Neha said. “It won’t be perfect, but it will be enough to pass for half.  Half white, half Indian girls and boys are very common here.  I don’t think it will be a problem.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“You are eighteen,” Neha said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you could pass for younger. Rani is sixteen, same as Lona and the twins. If you approached them at the mall and introduced yourself to the twins as her cousin, they might open up to you about Takoda. We might be able to find him.”

“Have you ever asked the twins about him yourself?” Lindsay asked.

“I have,” she said. “When Lona told me about the dirty old man that sometimes shows up at their get togethers, I asked the twins about him. They clammed up, as if they were afraid. I never once associated him with Lona's disappearance, though—not until Ska mentioned Takoda was a friend of HRT. I just thought he was one of the hundreds of dirty old men running around the res. Now that I know he’s an associate of Rattling Thunder, it all fits. Joey Takoda was involved in Lona’s abduction—I’m sure of it.”

“So, you think the girls might open up to me about Takoda?” Lindsay asked.

“I think it's possible. Lona has come home with many stories that the twins shared with her—they love to gossip.”

“Lindsay,” Rainhorse interjected, “we need to find Rattling Thunder’s location. If I can find Joey Takoda, he might lead me to HRT. Do you think you can do this?”

“But the twins don’t know me,” Lindsay objected.

“Lindsay, you are personable and friendly,” Neha said. “You can win them over—I know it.”

“Would I be going alone?” she asked.

“No,” Neha said. “I will go with you after school lets out today.  I’ll hang back and keep an eye on you from a distance while you approach them.  Don’t worry, you won’t be alone. You’ll have two very good friends watching over you.”

“Who’s the second?” Lindsay asked.

“What?” Neha asked.

“The second friend. You said there’d be you and another friend. Who’s the second?”

Neha turned behind her and opened a drawer, pulling a revolver from it. She sat it on the table, “Lindsay, I’d like you to meet my very good friend, Mr. Sam Colt.”