Magic Hour

“Sure. It’s a dreamcatcher,” Peanut said, pulling a Baggie full of carrot sticks out of her purse. “My son used to have one hanging from his bed. I think he bought it on a field trip up to Neah Bay. They’re a Native American tradition. The idea is that they protect a sleeping child from nightmares. The bad dreams get caught in the web, while the good ones slip quietly through that hole in the middle.” She grinned. “Discovery Channel. Native American History Week.”

“Why?” Ellie asked Julia.

“Alice had a severe emotional response to this thing. Snorting, scratching herself, screaming. It seemed to scare the crap out of her.”

Ellie reached over and picked up the dreamcatcher, examining it. “You think it’s the bad dream thing?”

“No. I think it’s more personal. Maybe she was hurt in a room that had one, or by a person who made them. Or perhaps the string reminded her of the rope that was used to tie her ankle. I’m not sure yet. But there’s something about it that set her off.”

“I’ll check it out,” Ellie said. “Clues are damn few and far between. I’ll send Earl up to the reservation. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“It’s about time for some luck,” Julia agreed, picking her purse up off the sofa. “Where could I find a bunch of them for sale?”

“Swain’s General Store,” Peanut answered. “They have a local souvenir aisle.”

“Great. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Better wear a mask,” Peanut muttered. She and Ellie exchanged worried glances.

Julia frowned. “What’s going on?”

“You remember Mort Elzik?” Ellie asked.

So it was small-town gossip. She should have known. “No.” Julia glanced at her watch. She wanted to be back—with the dreamcatchers—when Alice woke from her nap. “I really don’t have time for this now. I don’t know how long Alice will sleep.” She headed for the door.

“He published a photo of Alice in the Rain Valley Gazette.”

“The headline called her ‘wolf girl,’” Peanut said, chewing loudly.

Julia stopped. All at once she remembered Mort from high school . . . and from that night at the hospital. He’d bumped into her in the hallway. Of course. The bag he’d dropped held camera equipment. That was why he hadn’t been at the meeting in the church; he’d used that time to sneak into the hospital. Slowly, she turned. “Any mention of me?”

Both women shook their heads. “The town is protecting you,” Ellie added. “He knows you’re here but no one will confirm that you’re helping Alice.”

“I knew there’d be a leak. There always is. We’re fine if—”

Peanut and Ellie exchanged another worried look.

“What? There’s more?” Julia demanded.

“Some of the reporters are leaving town. They think the whole thing is a hoax.”

Julia cursed under her breath. That was the one thing they couldn’t afford. If the media withdrew now, they might never find out who Alice really was. “The new photos—mine, I mean—should help. Also release some bit of information. Something scientific. Put someone in uniform on camera to talk about the search. Use lots of missing kids’ statistics. Make every word sound official. That should buy us some time.”

“You need to get her talking, Jules.”

“No kidding.” In the old days her word would have been enough to convince the media. Now, it would mean nothing.

“You want me to go get you the dreamcatchers?” Peanut said gently.

Julia hated to bend to pressure, but she had no choice. She couldn’t let Mort get a photo of her. She tossed her purse back onto the sofa. “Thanks, Pea. I’d appreciate that.”

THIRTEEN

AN HOUR LATER ELLIE AND PEANUT WERE BACK IN THE CRUISER, heading for town.

“We need her to talk,” Ellie said quietly. No matter how much evidence they accumulated, the truth always boiled down to that.

“Julia is doing her best, but . . .”