The dream catcherstheyre supposed to keep bad dreams away or something like that, right?
She smiled and the beauty of that gesture shot an unexpected heat through Cole. It had been years since hed allowed himself to feel anything for any woman, and the fact that a little lick of lust stirred in him for this woman didnt improve his mood at all.
The legend is that the dream catcher was used by the Woodland Indians to catch all dreams, both good and bad. The bad dreams get caught in the webbing and burn off with the morning sun. The good dreams are caught and make their way to the hole in the center, where they filter down the feathers and are dreamed.
He looked back at the victim and the dream catcher hanging over her head. So, our perp wants to make sure our victims have only good dreams in death?
Or he wants you to believe that hes of Native American descent, she replied.
But you dont think he is, he countered.
She frowned thoughtfully. At this point, theres no way of really knowing. Certainly most Native Americans I know who own dream catchers have the real thing made with their own hands with either soaked willow or grapevine. Theyre usually very personal and made with lots of love. She flashed him another quick smile. But of course, thats the old way.
He wondered if the FBI powers-that-be had specifically chosen her for this
job because of her Native American background.
They fell quiet as the men continued their jobs, and the victim was eventually taken away. It was growing dark when the last of the work was done at the scene of the crime, and Agent Nightsong followed Cole to the sheriffs office.
Hed found her an irritant all evening. It wasnt anything shed said. For the most part, shed been silent. It had been the way shed watched them with those intelligent, enigmatic eyes.
Cole had found himself snapping at his men, feeling as if both he and all of them were on display and Agent Nightsong was just waiting for errors to occur so she could step in and take over.
As he drove toward the office, with her in her own car just behind him, he drew in a deep breath to ease the tension that had crackled through him since the moment shed arrived on scene.
He wasnt arrogant enough to believe he didnt need some kind of help. This latest murder had definitely shaken him up. Not only did he lack the manpower for the kind of investigation these murders required, but he also lacked resources. Mystic Lake was a small town with very little crime, and it had been years since Cole had done the kind of police work that was now required of him.
He probably would have asked for help, but it ticked him off that the mayor hadnt even discussed the issue with him and instead had just gone behind Coles back and then told him hed called the feds.
As far as Cole was concerned, it had shown a lack of respect, which heated his insides along with the other feeling that fired inside him each time his gaze landed on Amberly Nightsong.
Hed give her the copies of the files of the other murders, and then shed be on her way back to Kansas City. She wasnt officially a part of the case. She was just here as a consultant of sorts. Shed read the files, call him with her thoughts, and that would be the end of it.
His hands relaxed on the steering wheel as he turned into the parking lot behind his office. Funny that his lust hormones hadnt been active for eight long years and now had suddenly decided to awaken for the one woman he wanted absolutely nothing to do with.
She parked beside his car and joined him at the back door of the building. It should take about twenty minutes or so to get copies of those files ready for you, he said as he used his key to unlock the back door of the building.
He gestured her into the hallway. A door on the left led to a conference room, a second to a small break room, and to the right was his private office. There was also an interrogation room. Ahead were the reception area and the deputy desks, with the jail in the basement of the building.
He took her into the conference room, where the old wall-size bulletin board was covered with crime photos of the two previous murders. It had become their war room, devoted specifically to the murders since the second one had occurred.
If youll wait here, Ill be back with copies of the files, he said.
She nodded absently, already engrossed in the photos on the board.
She was still standing in front of the board when he reentered the room fifteen minutes later. She appeared to be so deep in thought she didnt hear his return.
He took a brief moment to admire the curve of her butt in her tight jeans, the waist-length braided rope of thick hair that seemed to beg to be released from its binding. He cleared his throat, not liking the drift of his thoughts.
She whirled around to face him. I cant help but wonder if there isnt some sort of a mercy-killing element to these. He killed them and then tried to assure that they would have happy dreams through eternity. Were any of the women sick? Maybe terminally ill?