The Watcher

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  The Watcher

  More Virtue Falls Books

  Who is Christina Dodd

  THE WATCHER

  A Virtue Falls Short Story

  By

  Christina Dodd

  THE WATCHER

  A Virture Falls Short Story

  First Edition

  Copyright 2017 by Christina Dodd

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may

  be reproduced in any fashion without the

  express written consent of the copyright holder.

  The Watcher is a work of fiction.

  All characters and events portrayed herein

  are fictitious and are not based on any real

  persons living or dead.

  Welcome to Virtue Falls

  Founded 1902

  Your Vacation Destination on the Washington Coast

  Home of the World Famous Virtue Falls Canyon

  Population 2487

  Every time Sheriff Kateri Kwinault drove past that sign, she grinned. If Virtue Falls was world famous for anything, it was for an earthquake, a tsunami, and some very messy, well-publicized murders.

  And if she was famous for anything, it was surviving the earthquake and tsunami and recovering enough to become interim sheriff. Even better, she was running for the office in a race so close she got lip from every old fart in town. Of course, the old guys in this town gave everybody lip, especially a female, half-Native American law officer. Apparently that was part of the Old Fart Code.

  Her cell phone rang; she glanced at the car screen and pulled over to the curb. In a town of eccentrics and loners, Rainbow Breezewing was the undisputed wise woman, and she always required all of Kateri's attention. "What's up, Rainbow?"

  Rainbow whispered, "I want you to come to the Oceanview Café and arrest the Rosen kids."

  "What did they do now?"

  "They're eating lunch."

  Kateri laughed. She remembered how much Becca Rosen had cried when she found out she was having triplets. Zeke Rosen had taken to staring vacantly into space rather than prepare for the impending onslaught of three infants. Once the babies arrived, the beleaguered parents had done their best, but no one could ever truly be prepared for changing that many diapers every day. Now Becca looked like she hadn’t slept in 8 years (and she probably hadn’t). “You can’t blame the parents on this one. Having triplets isn’t on anyone’s bucket list.”

  “It’s like those kids have never eaten in public before. Except they come in every. Single. Saturday." Rainbow spaced the words for maximum dramatic effect. "Watching them consume fries is better than watching a contraceptive commercial.”

  "Whatever works. You didn't really call me to complain about the Rosen kids, did you?"

  "No." Rainbow's voice got grim. "There's a situation at the camp on the reservation."

  "The boys' and girls' camp?"

  "It's the only one out there."

  "What kind of a situation?"

  "Come on over. You can help me clean melted Velveeta off the metal napkin holders and I'll fill you in."

  "How could I possibly resist an invitation like that?" Kateri hung up, put the car in gear and headed toward the heart of town and the Oceanview Café.

  As always during the summer months, the place was packed. Tourists came in for the pie. Locals came in … well, they came in for the pie, too. And the fresh made donuts. And the coffee. Dax owned the place and his cooking was the stuff of Northwest legend.

  Rainbow was the stuff of Northwest legend, too. She was the waitress at the Oceanview Café. She dressed with wild originality, she changed her hair color to match her mood, and she knew everything that happened in town. She knew everybody who wandered through. She made the old farts toe the line and the children of Virtue Falls adore her. Even the Rosen kids adored her. They didn't have any manners, but they adored her.

  Deputy Bergen sat at the old farts' table, listening to them complain and nodding as if he agreed with their every word. Maybe he did, but Kateri suspected he was trolling for votes; he was her opponent in the race for sheriff and while he did his job competently, he really wanted the job. He lifted a hand in greeting.

  Kateri gave him a wave back, then slid onto a stool at the counter and watched Rainbow wipe greasy fingerprints off two of the metal napkin holders.

  "Did you think I was kidding?" Rainbow demanded.

  "Not at all."

  "Be careful not to put your foot in the puddle of maple syrup."

  Kateri tried to lift her boot. It held, then released with a sticky sound. "Too late," she said.

  Rainbow whisked away to rinse the towel in hot water.

  Deputy Bergen came over and sat next to Kateri. Before the election, they'd been friends and sometimes still were; like now, when in a low voice, he asked, "Is Rainbow dressed like a hobbit? Or Han Solo from the first Star Wars trilogy? I can't tell."

  "Best not to ask," she murmured back.

  Rainbow returned and bore down on the steaming towel, using elbow grease to remove dried ketchup spots on the counter.

  "I thought you were headed for home," Bergen said to Kateri.

  "Rainbow called. There's a crisis."

  "I've been sitting right here the whole time." Bergen glared balefully at Rainbow. "I'm capable of handling the same stuff Kateri is."

  Rainbow threw the towel into the sink behind the counter. "It's not your kind of crisis."

  He got very still and unbending; offense radiated from him. "What does that mean?"

  Rainbow leaned forward and rested her ample cleavage on the counter.

  He lost all that starchy affront, cleared his throat and looked at the ceiling.

  Rainbow grinned at Kateri. Making men uncomfortable always gave her an alarming amount of pleasure. “Marie came in earlier. She needed to get away from the camp.”

  Bergen stopped staring at the ceiling long enough to say “Marie? Camp?” He looked at Kateri to see if she was following along.

  “You know Marie Cardinal," Rainbow said. "She lives on the rez, she's married to Nathan, the camp director, and she comes into town whenever she can’t deal with his long-winded stories or the kids running and shrieking. Two weeks of camp is a long time."

  "Right. I know her. And I know the camp. I went there as a kid." At the memory, Bergen hitched himself forward and grinned. "I had a great time!”

  “It helps that you can pee standing up,” Rainbow said sarcastically.

  Bergen blushed. The man was so modest. "Sandra and I were talking about sending the girls out next summer. Is the camp having problems?"

  “You could say that. Marie said that the kids are scared. They keep telling Nathan that there’s a guy out in the woods watching them.”

  "A man? Stalking the kids?" Bergen put his hand to his service pistol and stood. "I'll go."

  Kateri put her hand on his arm. "Wait. Rainbow, is this a real man, or…?"

  Rainbow straightened up and got serious. "He comes at night. He can't get past the protective circle. They catch glimpses of him pacing, back and forth, back and forth."

  "So he's a spirit," Kateri said.

  Bergen sat back down. "Right."

  “That’s creepy." And not at all what Kateri was expecting. “Does Marie think it’s true?”

  Rainbow shrugged. “Marie doesn't believe in the magic of the ancient gods, but she was tense. Uneasy. She said that teens don’t usually want to act like wussies in front of each other, and she can’t think of a good reason why they would — or could — invent this tale."

  "Maybe the older kids are trying to scare the younger ones." Bergen had no imagination.

/>   "They're all scared," Rainbow said. "The older girls are petrified and the older guys are jumpy."

  “Do you want me to head out there and investigate?” Bergen made the offer, but it was at most half-hearted.

  “This really isn’t your area of expertise," Kateri told him.

  Rainbow nodded sagely. “That’s true. Kateri knows a lot more about woo-woo than all the rest of us put together.” She straightened her hobbit vest. “I think Kateri’s connection to the tribe might get them to open up more anyway.”

  Bergen let out his held breath. What a relief to not get wrapped up in the inexplicable. He liked rational, reasonable issues, like traffic tickets and drug cases.

  “I’ll stay on duty tonight, then," Bergen said.

  Kateri had no doubt he would make himself very visible to the Virtue Falls citizens, and if he got the chance mention that she was out on the reservation. That made him look so much more responsible. But she needed him tonight, so she said, “Good plan. I’ll head out to the reservation. Thanks for the tip, Rainbow.”

  “You’ll let me know how it goes?” It wasn’t really a question. Rainbow loved a good story.

  "Sure."

  Dax slapped his hand on the bell. "Order up!"

  "Gotta go do my job." Rainbow chucked Bergen under the chin and headed back for pick up. "Good night, sweetheart."

  Bergen blushed again.

  Kateri stood. She checked her service pistol, adjusted her bullet-proof vest, made sure she was ready for a fire fight in case the "spirit" turned out to be all too human. In a conversational tone, she said, "You know, Bergen, Rainbow only shows off because it makes you uncomfortable. If you turned the tables, she'd run scared."

  "Really?" Bergen's eyes narrowed on the waitress as she served hamburgers to a group of hungry hikers.

  "Really."

  Rainbow headed back toward the kitchen, eying Bergen and smiling flirtatiously.

  Bergen intercepted her, clasped her in his arms, bent her backwards and pressed kisses all over her horrified face.

  The noise in the Oceanview Café dropped to zero.

  He planted a sloppy kiss right on her astonished mouth, stood her up, leaned close and in a deep, sexy voice said, "Later, darling." Hitching up his belt, he strode out of the café.

  Whistles and shouts followed him out the door.

  Rainbow stood, eyes wide, staring after him. "Wow," she whispered.

  "Wait until Sandra hears about this," Kateri told her.

  Rainbow looked at Kateri in alarm. "She'll kill me."

  "Pretty much." Kateri chortled all the way to her cruiser. She might just have helped Bergen win the election, but damn — that was funny.

  Kateri gathered her supplies and waited until early evening to drive out to the camp. As she passed through the gates, she saw that the basketball court was showing its age. Weeds were creeping through the concrete, especially through the enormous crack left by the earthquake. The basketball net was hanging by only a few of the hooks on the rim, and the pole was leaning slightly.

  She doubted the basketball court would be fixed any time soon. The reservation wasn’t rolling in the wealth. To a certain extent, the rez had been lucky. The land faced an inlet away from Virtue Falls Harbor, while the earthquake had caused damage — most of their homes had suffered — the tsunami didn’t directly hit tribal lands.

  Well, of course. Native Americans legend had warned of disaster if land-hungry Americans built Virtue Falls where they did, but did those folks listen? Nooo. It was all, "Those silly, superstitious Indians…" right up until that tsunami came ripping through the harbor. No one had believed in the Frog God, either, until Kateri…

  No one believed in the Frog God even now, except Kateri. He'd made the earth move and he'd made the ocean rise. He had taken her. She had seen him, and he was a fearsome god, and she feared him and the powers he had given her. But those powers were the real reason she'd chosen to come rather than send Bergen. Once you've been killed and resurrected by an ancient deity, not much surprised you.

  To her right, Kateri could see the red cedar longhouse, its planks tilted to ventilate the interior after a warm afternoon. Nathan was proud of the longhouse; building it had been his idea and the tribe used it as a meeting hall, community center and as the campers’ lodging.

  All seemed quiet. Normal. Until she crossed the line drawn deeply in the dirt road, the line meant to protect the camp. Here she could smell a change in the air, hear the distant voices of the ancestors, feel her connection to the People. The age of the earth inside the circle was different. Its memories held the knowledge of the old ones, the long ago bear hunts, the campfire rituals.

  The elders had drawn it around the longhouse, the campfires and the canoes made of hollowed out cedars. But who, or what, would want to bother a bunch of kids and a few Native American camp counselors?

  She pulled up to the longhouse and parked, and waved at Nathan.

  Nathan was one of the reservation leaders and an enthusiastic camp counselor. Marie always said the summer was his favorite time of year because the kids came from the cities without their phones and their TVs. They went on hikes, they learned how to tie knots and paddle a canoe, to tell poison oak from the ferns and, for the first time in their lives, they got to see the stars. Best of all, they had no choice but to listen to his stories. For him, a high school history project had blossomed into a love of his tribe and their memories. Now he was the resident historian and expert on traditions for the tribe, and every night, he regaled the campers with tales of the ancient ones, the Native Americans that settled the land centuries ago. By the end of the first week, most were high-fiving Nathan on their way to their sleeping bags in the longhouse.

  When Nathan wasn’t around Marie would also tell the tribal women that it broke her heart a little to see him with the kids. They weren’t able to have children of their own, and she knew he wanted to pass on the verbal history of the tribe.

  As Kateri approached the longhouse, the smell of cedar made her feel nostalgic, and she smiled at Nathan as he came out to meet her.

  “Kateri! Welcome! What brings you to our humble dwelling?” Nathan was a kind man, quick to smile and joke around. Even if the camp kids rarely admitted it, they loved his jovial nature. And Marie loved his sun-darkened skin and the way his bark brown eyes danced whenever he told stories by the campfire.

  Right now, Kateri thought the cheeriness seemed forced. Nathan was usually the friendliest of men, but tonight the smile didn't reach his eyes. “Just thought I’d come out and see if you’ve bored any of the kids to death.”

  “Marie keeps me in check more after one of the kids dramatically snored at me two summers ago." Nathan chuckled. "That punk.”

  Kateri smiled, then sobered and got to the point. “Well then, I’m here to check up on a report of a creepy guy in the woods, watching the kids.”

  Nathan hid his surprise well. “That’s not really police business, is it?"

  Kateri raised her brows at his thinly veiled hostility. He was right. She wasn’t tribal police — she didn’t have a great argument for jurisdiction in the camp. “It’s not strictly law enforcement business, but no one likes to hear about a bunch of scared teenagers. Besides, Nathan, a creepy guy watching the kids…that's something to worry about.”

  Nathan shrugged.

  “Have you seen a guy hanging out in the woods? Or is this kids spinning tales because your stories of the ancient whale hunt traditions are so boring?”

  “It’s true that their attention spans aren’t what they once were. Kids now are expecting every story to be four minutes or less, like a music video.” He sighed. “But, no. They’re not making it up.”

  “That’s why you drew the circle.”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, I asked the elders to help. We let the kids watch us and they even listened to the extra protections we put on the camp. Although I suppose they couldn’t understand anything we
were saying, they did seem to relax a bit after we finished the ritual."

  Kateri heard the hesitation in his tone. "But?"

  "But that night, one of the girls, Lily, said he was out there again, watching.” He lifted his hands and let them fall. “I’ve tried to figure out how to calm her, calm them, but if this doesn’t let up, we’re going to have to contact their parents. I can’t have a huge group of kids dealing with nightmares and jumping at every sound from the woods. This camp is supposed to be about teaching them wilderness skills, but they’re too scared to do the nighttime woods walk or the canoeing.”

  “Because the canoes would have to go outside of the protective circle?” Kateri guessed.

  “Exactly. I can’t protect them from the water. No one can.”

  “The water has always had a power beyond our people's control."

  Marie came out of the longhouse and joined them. "Kateri, you're looking good. How are your injuries?"

  The scars from the Frog God’s claiming still crossed Kateri's body, marking her as his own, and she flexed her hands, once so broken, and rotated her tense shoulders. "When I crossed the border into the rez, my scars started burning." As soon as she articulated her discomfort, it grew worse.

  He was near. He was watching.

  "That's … not normal?" Nathan asked.

  “No. And I don't like it." Understatement. "Do you mind if I talk to the kids?”

  “Don’t you think that’ll just scare them more, knowing the sheriff takes their reports so seriously she comes out with her badge and her gun?" Nathan was such a guy. He didn't want to admit he couldn't handle the situation. But what she suspected was happening … he couldn't. Maybe no one could.

  But she had to try. “You might not like that I come out with my badge and my gun" — relations between law enforcement and Native Americans were traditionally fraught with tension — "but I think knowing that someone with the power to protect them has come out to hear their reports will make them feel better."

  “Nathan, I agree with Kateri. They aren’t responding to our attempts to protect them, so perhaps their urban version of the law,” Marie nodded towards Kateri’s police uniform, “will calm them down.”