Chapter 6
When Issa opened her eyes again, the sharp agonizing pain was back. She moaned as she was gently straightened out, her shirt raised up to her neck, then cold hands poked and prodded her chilled skin. She cried out in pain.
“It’s all right. Take it easy. We’re checking your ribs. We need to make sure you haven’t broken anything.”
Issa gave a garbled laugh. If they only knew. Breaks upon breaks. Small ones, nasty ones, meant to extract information. Information she didn’t have. When she was twisted ever-so-slightly the wrong way, she cried out again, a scream of pain echoing around the room. She shuddered.
“Damn. Wished that had made her black out,” a gruff voice muttered.
Issa whimpered, wishing for the same. She opened her eyes to see a bright light overhead. Some weird machine was beside her. “What are you doing?” she asked fearfully.
“Taking X-rays,” the gruff woman said, but compassion was in her voice at odds with the harshness of her raspy tone. “Stay still. We need to see the extent of the damage.”
“It’s bad.”
“We’ll see. Just let me get all the pictures I need.”
In pain and too exhausted to do anything other than lie here, she let them do what they would. As soon as they were done with her shoulders, arms, hands and chest, her pants were removed, and her lower body was X-rayed. Finally she was redressed and tucked back under the blankets. She curled eagerly into the heat. She could feel the shakes starting all over again. “Roash?” she whispered, calling to him in her mind.
“I don’t know what that is. Eagle, do you know what she’s asking for?”
She made a tiny calling sound. She could hear Roash. There in the far reaches of her mind she could hear his response.
“Jesus Christ, those damn birds. Why did you let them in the house?” the woman asked.
“This one came with her,” the man said.
Roash landed on the bed, his beak gently stroking Issa’s cheek, an odd rumble once again coming up his throat. She rumbled back at him. Content, knowing at least he was safe with her, she let herself fall back asleep.
But her dreams weren’t pleasant, and her sleep wasn’t restful. She surfaced again and again, each time to see the room in shadows with nothing but the moonlight shining through the windows. It was the same room. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She didn’t dare try to run. The memory of the last time was enough to make her stomach start heaving. But she could still hear the raspy voice, only farther away now.
“I have to get my laptop out of the truck,” she said. “I should be able to transfer them to that. It’s a new system. I’m still learning how to use it.”
“And this is a good test subject.”
“Hell, no, it’s not.”
Isolated in her room, Issa heard the front door close; then, in the distance, a vehicle door opening and closing. Her mind catalogued the sounds. Footsteps as the woman returned.
“Give me a cup of coffee. This could take a bit.”
“Will do.”
“What the hell’s that I’m smelling?”
“Chicken soup.”
The woman snorted. “What? Your grandmother’s recipe?”
His tone neutral, he said, “Absolutely.”
“Well, she was a hell of a cook. So are you sharing?”
Even Issa had to smile at that—her movements difficult, awkward, as if rusty from lack of use. Maybe it was the mention of a grandmother that brought her own mother to mind. Whatever had happened to her apartment? She’d left it for Goodwill to come pick up the boxes. The manager knew what was happening. Had they shown up? How long ago had that been? And the ashes? She’d put them in her root cellar with the boxes. How pathetic was that. Her mother reduced to a spot in a root cellar, of all places.
A strong aroma wafted toward her. She lifted her head and sniffed. How long since she’d eaten? She had no answers. So much was a black hole. Yet so much else she couldn’t forget. The beatings. The systematic torture. The questions. Where is it? Tell us where you hid it all. Repeatedly. It hadn’t taken them long to expand their vocabulary to What did you do with it? We want what is owed us.
She frowned as that came into her mind. She lay here, wishing for a little bit of the warm broth. Roash flew off from her bed and headed to the kitchen.
“Goddamn that thing …” Eagle said. “Yet it never really leaves her side. He must have had a reason.”
Roash cried out suddenly, his wild call filling the room.
“Maybe the bird’s hungry,” the woman said.
There was an odd silence. Issa smiled, only to gasp in silent wonder as her rescuer made the connection. And said, “Maybe he’s telling us she’s hungry.”
The gruff voice snapped, “This is already past spooky. Let’s not go straight into the bizarre.”
The man laughed. “You have no idea how spooky and bizarre this is. Eerie even.”
“Eagle, you call me out of the blue to bring my brand-new machine over to check out the woman’s condition. A woman who’s already so badly broken she should be in the hospital, and yet you refuse to take her there. You are taking in broken animals, but even you know when to call a vet. Yet, when this woman needs so much more, you don’t give it to her.”
“That’s not true,” he protested. “I help every animal that comes across my path. She’s just another one.”
“Then why shouldn’t I call the sheriff?”
Issa strained to hear his answer. She didn’t want the authorities involved, yet couldn’t explain that instinctive response either. The men who kidnapped and tortured her should be stopped. They shouldn’t be allowed to get away with what they’d done to her. Yet she didn’t think they’d do this to another woman. She’d been their target for a long time. She just didn’t understand why.
His voice was hard when he finally answered the gruff woman. “Will you?”
After a heavy sigh, the harsh voice said, “Hell no. Where’s that damn soup?”
There was clang of dishes, and Issa could follow the sounds as the man served up a bowl followed by the clunk as he placed it on the table. Then she heard Roash’s cry in the dark.
The woman gave a crackle. “I can’t believe you have those two here. You should feed them. After all, you’re feeding me.”
“I planned on it.”
Moments later she heard footsteps approach. She didn’t know if she should pretend to be asleep or not. But, as the aroma drifted closer, she realized she was desperate to put something in her stomach other than acid and whatever blood might still be there.
A soft light was turned on at her side, and a bowl placed on the night table.
“I know you’re awake. You don’t need to be afraid.”
“Thank you for treating my wounds.” She shifted in the bed and turned to look up at him. “You’ve been very kind to me.”
He shook his head. “I might’ve killed you, not knowing how bad your injuries are.”
She glanced at the bowl. “I was hoping you would share.”
“It’s not in my nature to not share. Particularly with someone who’s hurting.”
She studied him and then her position. “I don’t know if I can sit up,” she confessed softly.
“I doubt you can, at least not easily,” said the gruff woman from behind him. “Let Eagle help you.”
Issa glanced out the doorway to see a large burly woman in a plaid overshirt, her grizzled hair gray and her face lined with wrinkles.
“I have some of the X-rays processing on my laptop now. What the hell happened to you?”
Issa let her gaze drift toward the gruff woman and saw such a sense of wholeness about her. Issa was determined to do the right thing but by her own honor code, not necessarily by the one others followed.
“I was held captive, but I don’t know for how long,” she tried to explain to the two tall silent people staring at her. “I don’t know by whom, and honestly I couldn’t even tell you where.”
The woman walked farther into the room. Issa could feel the compassion in her worldly eyes. She stopped beside the bed. “Well, lucky for you, you are here now.” She motioned to the man at her side. “This is Eagle, and I’m Annie.”
“My name is Issa.” She frowned as she searched for her last name. Then shook her head only to stop as pain slammed into her. She winced, half closing her eyes in response. When she could speak again, she whispered, “I’m not sure what my last name is though.”
“That’s the head injury,” Eagle said. “The memories will come back soon.”
“Maybe I don’t want them to,” she said, careful to not move her head.
“What can you tell us about yourself?”
“I have a PhD in biology, a masters in environmental science. Falconry is a hobby. Roash and Humbug and a few others are my passion.”
“Humbug?”
Talking was taking too much out of her, and Issa found it hard to keep her eyes open. “Humbug is my snowy owl. He lives with me at my cabin.”
“And where is your cabin?”
Her gaze flew open as she studied him, her mouth trying to form the words. She frowned and looked at him. “I’m not sure. I can see the driveway in my mind … and the road … and the cabin itself. But I …” She fell silent.
He shook his head. “Not to worry. It’ll come back.”
Annie walked out of the room.
“Humbug needs help,” Issa said quietly. “He can’t feed himself well. How did you find my falcon?”
“He showed up one day. I run a raptor center for birds. His wing was broken, and I tried to help him. But he stopped eating and ripped off the splint. He would cry, and then he would go silent.”
She nodded. “His crying was to find me. If he fell into a despondent state, it was the lack of communication with me.”
Eagle nodded, slowly walking closer. “I had him in my arms. He just lay like he was ready to die. And I thought maybe it would be a kindness to put him down.” He shook his head in wonder. “But he bolted from my arms as if he was just playing dead, and he flew into the sky. He shouldn’t have been able to fly with that wing. He shouldn’t have been able to do anything he did that day. He disappeared like an arrow in one direction. I looked for the rest the day. I came out several times later at night and in the morning calling for him. Later that day, when I found you, he was sitting on your shoulder.”
“How did you find me?” she asked curiously. She studied the man Roash trusted. “Did he call you?”
He frowned. “I don’t know what you mean by that. The other animals alerted me something was very wrong. My dogs led me toward you. And when I climbed over the fence and found you in the hollow, Rikker was sitting there.”
She smiled. “Thank you for bringing me home. His name is Roash, by the way.”
Just then Annie returned.
“I could do nothing else.” He glanced over at Annie. “Can we move her to sit up?”
Annie nodded. “I suggest you tape the ribs first. Just two fractures, one on both sides. The collarbone is cracked, right arm is cracked, several toes cracked.”
“Is that all?” Issa said, her voice full of pain. “I was pretty damn sure the men had broken more than that.”
“I’m still waiting for a couple more pictures to process,” Annie said quietly.
Eagle said, “I have an idea. At least for this time. Then, after you’ve eaten, I’ll find the tape and bind those ribs.”
“I don’t know that I can eat very much,” she whispered, adding, “but I would love to try. It smells delicious.”
Roash stepped forward as Eagle disappeared and then returned with a travel mug and a metal straw. He poured the broth from the soup into the cup, put the straw and the lid in place, and then gently lifted her head to take a few sips. The heat filled her stomach, sending waves of warmth through her.
When she drank what was in the cup, she lay her head back down again. “I presume all the injuries are small enough they don’t need to be reset or casted.”
“Yes, you’re correct,” he said quietly. “And you’re right, they were directed, very controlled.”
She gave a tiny nod. “That makes sense.”
“How does any of this make sense?” Eagle asked. “That somebody would deliberately do that to you is not normal.”
“No, but I think for those men it was very normal.” She closed her eyes, and now, with a warm tummy, she let herself fall back into the healing state of sleep.
*
“Wow,” Annie said. “When you pick a mystery, you really pick a doozy.”
He shook his head. “This is bizarre.” He lifted the bowl and cup, checked to make sure Issa was covered, and ushered Annie out. “But at least she’s eaten. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”
“Her stomach is not likely to handle much more than this.”
He nodded. “Agreed.”
“I’ll see what these last two X-rays bring up. I have tape here. The ribs are hairline fractures from very focused blows.”
“And that green spot on her back to the right?”
“Her right kidney. I’m not a medical doctor, but I’ve not seen anything in the X-rays that shows it’s bone related.”
“Great. I thought maybe her liver or spleen.”
“That she’s even alive is amazing.”
Annie turned to look at Roash, who was busy drinking some of the chicken soup broth. “He must be starving if he’s drinking soup?” she said, pointing to the bird.
“I think its survival. For him and for her.”
Eagle got up and grabbed a loaf of bread from the side and plucked a bunch of the seeds off the top. He put them down beside the bird and watched as he ate them. “He’s a raptor. I need to get him something from the pens. The next batch of eggs don’t come out of the incubator for two days.”
“I never did understand how you could do that. You raise a couple hundred chicks from the eggs so the birds can eat them.”
“Chicks are a natural food for raptors,” he said absentmindedly. “And I know the world would look at me in horror because I let one hundred chicks die every day, but they are much easier to look after than mice.”
“Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not against it. It’s survival of the fittest. Mother Nature’s food chain. In your case, those birds need sustenance as well as anybody.”
“Besides I have to supplement it with roadkill I get from neighbors. And from the town. That deer I was given last week helped.”
“You’re lucky you could get the birds to eat that. Most need to catch their prey live. Too bad they won’t work on the bones.”
He shot her a look. “No, but the dogs will.”
She laughed and nodded. “Isn’t that the truth?” She pushed her bowl off to the side. “I could use a second bowl.”
He got up and filled the bowl again for Annie, then got himself a bowlful. The entire time Roash continued to drink chicken broth and peck away at seeds. He needed food as much as Issa. Unfortunately Eagle didn’t have much for him here. He’d have to go out and do the chores soon and check on the security system for the night. Especially tonight. He had an electric fence on part of the cages. He wanted to make sure they were all charged. He didn’t have a clue what the night would bring, but he’d be ready no matter what.
“I checked the other X-rays. But I can’t see anything else. There could be some stuff I don’t know how to read as I deal in four-legged critters, but you got the gist of it.”
“I really appreciate this.”
“I’m sure you do. As far as breaking in the machine, you were right. This was a good one.” With the second bowl of soup in front of her, she set about eating, dipping her bread into the broth. When she was done, she said, “Now that was good.”
She picked up the bowl, walked over to the sink. She turned and stared at Roash. “I’m a vet and spend my life helping animals, but I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“I wish I knew more about the bond these two have,” he admitted. “I’ve never seen anything like it either.”
“Find out who she is, and then you’ll find where she was, where her cabin is.”
“I’ll do that.” He glanced out at the night. “I need to set up security and electrify the fence around all the raptors.”
“Forget about around the raptors. You need to make sure you got something set up around her.” And she nodded at the bedroom. “Call me in the night if you need to.”
Eagle smiled gratefully at the woman with a heart of gold. “Thanks.”
When she walked out, he stood at the front door and waited until she turned on her truck and took the battle-beaten old brown Ford out of his drive. She and Gray should get together. They had at one point, but they were both too damn stubborn to make it work. And yet they were two of a kind. And both damn good people.
As soon as he saw the headlights heading down the road, he turned around and walked to the gate and locked it. With the dogs at his heels, he did a quick walk around the property checking on the inner security system. He turned on the electric fence near the raptors. Annie was right. He should have something around the house. It never occurred to him that he’d be in a situation where that would be necessary in his own home. He thought he’d left all that behind when he was honorably discharged from the military. He’d hated having to watch his back day and night in the navy, but that’s where he was all over again.
He returned to the kitchen, turned on the lights to finish cleaning the guns, laid one by every window on the main floor, took three more upstairs where his bedroom was, and stepped into his big room.
He didn’t feel comfortable being a floor away from her. He grabbed his bedding and went down to the living room couch to make himself comfortable. No way to know what the night would bring. He just wanted to make sure he was ready.
*
Stefan walked into his studio. He hadn’t had the urge to paint in several days. The break had actually been kind of nice. He’d come off a difficult case—a serial killer in Maine, of all places. Stefan had connected with the killer through his painting. Stefan had shut down his art for a few days afterward, needing the break to heal.
The case had ended successfully, but it had left Stefan feeling worn and weary. As he walked through his studio, he opened up windows, pulling back the blinds to let in the sunshine. Something knocked at the back of his head, telling him to pick up a pen. He could ignore that a lot of times.
But sometimes there was no help for it. He was forced to comply. He picked up his sketchbook and then dropped it immediately.
No, apparently he wasn’t supposed to sketch. He shrugged and walked to an easel, randomly chose a canvas, and put it up. One of the most difficult processes in his life had been to learn to trust his psychic process. To trust that what was coming through needed to come through.
If it meant destroying the canvas or making something completely not saleable, then that was okay too. As he reached for his paints, his hands stayed in the air, and he realized, no, this image had to be charcoal. Something he hadn’t worked with in months.
At the sideboard he found a long piece of charcoal with a sharpened end and came back to the white canvas. He stood in front of it.
“Who are you, and what can I do to help?”
And then, in the process that had taken him years to perfect, he surrendered. Seconds later he watched as his hand lifted—his hand still attached to his arm, attached to his shoulder, and then to his body—but a hand following directions from some other soul.
He watched the black lines show up. And they made no sense, and he realized this was one of those times where either he wasn’t meant to see what was coming or a message wasn’t coming through clearly. He closed his eyes and sent out a message of hope and love to whatever desperate soul was screaming at him.
Mentally he kept getting a garbled sound of screeches and cries. Not the same as the woman he had contacted several days ago. But similar in an odd way. With his head bowed, he let his hand do what it needed to do.
When he finally stepped back, his arm dropping to his side, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. And stared. He’d done this many times, and often the results were shocking. Sometimes they were brilliant. Sometimes they were horrifying. And sometimes they were just childish blotches that meant nothing.
But this, … this was exquisite.
The door opened behind him, and Celina walked in. She stopped and gasped. “My goodness, that’s beautiful.” She raced to his side. She slipped her fingers into his hand, and the two stared at the beautiful snowy owl on the canvas. “Who is it?”
The name when it came out made no sense. But even as he tried to make it into another name it refused to comply.
“Humbug,” Stefan said. “That’s the only name I get. Humbug.”
“That’s not a name,” Celina argued. “That’s more like an expression of disgust, like Scrooge saying, ‘Bah humbug.’”
Stefan gave her a crooked grin and said, “This isn’t about Scrooge. But what I can tell you is, this owl is called Humbug. And he belongs to somebody, and somebody belongs to him. And he’s missing that person.”
“They’ve been separated?” Celina whispered, her fingers stretching out as if to stroke the downy feathers on the canvas. “Wow, poor thing.”
He wondered if the charcoal would smear, but he didn’t need to worry. Her fingers actually never touched, just wafted across the air above the canvas. “Yes, they’ve been separated.”
She turned to him with a smile and said, “I think I like this new direction of your talents.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know that there is anything new about it.”
“You’re connecting with animals. Animals in need. That will never be a wrong thing.” She turned back to the painting. “How can we help Humbug?”
Stefan put down the charcoal, picked up a rag, and wiped his hand. “I have no idea.”