Moving Star (eBook)

R.S. Scott (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2020 | 1. Auflage
314 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-0983-0660-1 (ISBN)

The second installment in the Steve Keller trilogy, Moving Star chronicles Officer Keller's quest for truth and justice while leading him down an ominous path that walks a fine line between traditional Native life and the expectations of a modern society imposed on an ancient culture.

When Officer Steve Keller finds himself adrift amidst the fallout of horrific events that change not only his cultural outlook but also his fragile grasp on reality, he also finds himself sinking deeper and deeper into the darkest Navajo mythology and mysticism rarely discussed among Navajos. Chasing a powerful Navajo witchman referred to as a Rainmaker, with Agent Thomas Ellington posted by his side, Officer Keller's emotional and mental stability begins to erode with each encounter of the supernatural. While Officer Keller and his FBI partner struggle to unravel a conspiracy steeped against a contrasting set of Navajo beliefs and cultural standards, Officer Keller finds his university education has taught him nothing about spiritual conduct and dark mysticism. Meanwhile, Officer Keller discovers that Tracy Monroe, a childhood friend, is also the bearer of his unborn son. Tracy, who is also endowed with magic abilities, forces the anxiety-ridden Officer Keller to be at odds with someone he mistrusts but is also obligated to protect. As Officer Keller's inner stability and tenacity falters, he fights on, hoisting his broken heart and swinging it like a melee weapon. As the battle between reality and supernatural abilities persists, Officer Keller finds he's actually able to believe in hope, choosing to heal and love again. The second installment in the trilogy chronicles Officer Keller's quest for truth and justice while leading him down an ominous path that walks a fine line between traditional Native life and the expectations of a modern society imposed on an ancient culture.

CHAPTER 2

My patrol SUV sits mournfully in a dirty corner behind a barbed gate. Dust and dried mud encapsulate my once mobile fortress.

“Shit, look at that. All Rezzed out. Mud and dirt every-where,” I inspect the exterior, two tires appear flat. “Tom, can you have him put some air in these tires, please? And check the battery.”

Tom disappears into a centrally-located trailer. Many used cars and auto parts litter the yard. A prostitute walks the sidewalk adjacent to the barbed fence, she sees me and waves. I offer a clear view of my Indian Police badge. She mocks me playfully and continues her walk.

“Steve, they say they don’t want to touch your truck,” Tom exits the trailer.

“Why not? My tires are flat. I’m not driving around with flat tires and we need to check the battery. Where are the keys?”

“They say your truck is evil,” Tom looks on sarcastically.

“What?”

“He’s a superstitious Vietnamese guy, he claims several of his mechanics fell ill after being near your truck,” Tom flings me my truck keys.

“An evil truck? My truck is evil? What a load of shit.” I open the driver’s side-door and climb in. I note my armament is gone as a strong odor of organic rot fills my nostrils. I hug my nose and climb out, “Wow. Tom, what the hell was in my truck?”

“Daren was in your truck. You and Jeremy did that if you recall. Then your truck was part of a cleansing of sorts, which involved the innards of an animal. I don’t know which animal, Karen would know.” Tom circles my vehicle, waving his arms as he talks.

We open the rear compartment of the SUV. Blood is smeared onto my spare tire. The smell of organic rot is strong.

“Shit. Does he know of an interior detailing place? Who the hell got into my truck?” I note the filthy interior.

“Your truck was stolen from Dilcon Police Station parking lot. Apparently, whoever stole it did the cleansing ceremony and dumped it in Black Canyon City. It was impounded recently with that mess in the back,” Tom pats my shoulder. “Cheer up, Keller. We’re just getting started. Drive it as it is out to the street. I’ll call a tow truck.”

“Shit,” I drive my truck out to Dunlap Avenue then onto an abandoned parking lot. “Damn, this stinks,” I pinch my nose.

My truck is towed to a local garage for some internal scrubbing. There are few Navajo clans that will deal in death, especially not directly in the dead and its organic rot. Being so close to lifelessness then used ceremonially, I am concerned. We walk to a local restaurant for tacos.

“Keller, it was necessary to remove you from the situation that was unfolding. Your cousin Anthony, or Tony, is a very dangerous individual. We don’t know half of what he’s up to but we do know he was tied to your father’s death by indirect means and he was pursuing you next.” Tom tries to be serious, his tone varies with each fact proclaimed.

I eye defeated tacos tearfully, “So, to pull that off, I get hauled in and driven all over California? You realize how stupid that sounds?”

“We had to lead Tony’s offensive away from what was transpiring in Dilcon and Tolani Lake. It had to be authentic, you had to be unaware.”

“Tom, I used to trust you. Used to,” I poke at my tacos. “How is Taylor?”

“Clarence Taylor is well. Or ‘Taylor’ as you call him.”

“What about Karen? And Holden? And Jeremy?”

“Karen, your commanding sergeant, is still coming to terms with the state of things as they are, she was incredibly irate initially, but you know how stubborn she can be when she doesn’t get what she wants. And, yes, she does carry your child. She’s up for maternity leave shortly. I don’t think your Chief will allow a pregnant sergeant in the field considering how things unfolded.”

I sit eating rice and beans. “And Holden?”

“The steadfast Sergeant Holden McCabe has been less than forthcoming with field information. He’s become a vigilante of sorts. We had to post an agent by his side temporarily to ensure absolute cooperation. Same with Jeremy Bennett from Tolani Lake. From their comments, it would appear we are making a mess of things as a federal department. With your cousin William Keller at the helm, they see themselves as middlemen whom will fall by the wayside while we, as a governmental entity, get what we need. Or deem as what we need. Which is a false notion but they cannot be convinced otherwise.” Tom babbles in between scoops of enchiladas.

“Tell me, Tom. What business does the government have in matters of the spiritual nature in our little corner of the Navajo Rez?”

“What do you mean, Keller?”

“Prior to things going to shit, Taylor told me your department had asked for a pouch of his corn pollen and grave dirt concoction. Then you all show up after Tony harasses Pastor at the church, after the Chapter Vice President cobwebs his ass out of Teesto chapter house. Not just you but a whole mess of you, dark suits and navy field jackets stormed the chapter house, after the fact, after things happened.”

“Yes, Keller?”

“You capture one of Simon’s goons and use Tracy to force him to do whatever you wanted him to do until he decides to just die in your jails. There is a lot you’re not telling me here.”

Tom sits fidgeting.

“Tom, I understand if you can’t say or can’t disclose, but don’t insult me like this. As you can see, I’m slowly falling or drifting into Holden’s camp of being unruly and disobedient.”

“Keller, listen. I know they are doing experiments, I’m not sure what or to what degree, but they are and who exactly is initiating these requests is something I don’t know. That’s all I know. I have orders, and I follow my orders.”

“Orders, you follow orders. Like a blind bastard, you just do what you’re told,” I glare at Tom. “Just orders.”

“Yes, I do, Keller. When you’re in the service you follow orders.”

“You sound like a Marine Corporal. ‘Just following orders.’ Damn it, I’ve heard that far too many times,” I bury my face into my hands. “So, you’re not going to tell me then, is that right?”

“Keller,” Tom finishes his coffee, “you probably know more than I do, trust me on that.”

We arrive at the massive, glistening resort casino on the Salt River reservation. We take a familiar route through the casino floor and to the banquet halls in the rear. A service elevator takes us beneath the massive concrete structure. The air is moist with an earthy quality, like the desert after a summer storm the air lingers with a moist weight. The elevator noisily creeps and then grounds with a thud. The earthy smell seems genuine, like a freshly dug, wet grave.

Through surveillance cameras Tracy Monroe sits on a couch watching a big screen TV. She waves at the camera. Tom signs paperwork for her release while I stand a fidgeting nervous wreck.

“Keller, what’s the matter with you?” Tom notices my apprehension.

“Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Tom waves his pen at me. “Your history with Tracy aside, she was instrumental regarding our last encounter with your skinwalkers.”

“Tom, she’s a dangerous woman working serious black magic.” I lower my voice, “Nothing good can ever come of that. Nothing.”

“She carries your child, does she not?” Tom puts his pen back in his pocket.

“Tom,” I glare intently, “can you go a week without mentioning that?”

“Well you two are close, otherwise she would have never agreed to leave this reservation,” Tom smiles. “The locals respect her, but want her gone.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I continue fidgeting.

Suited men lead Tom and I into Tracy’s room. She sees me and smiles widely.

“Shyboy. I knew you’d be back,” she rises and reaches to embrace me. I lean away.

“Tracy,” I eye Tom. “Wait please.”

“Come on, Shyboy. I won’t hurt you,” she hugs and holds me.

I eye Tom as he looks on. I note the corner camera has moved its view in our direction. Tracy kisses my cheek, strawberry scented shampoo fills my nostrils.

“I knew you’d come back,” she smiles widely.

Tom glances away awkwardly.

“Tracy, you look good,” I glance down and rest my palm on her stomach. I stand filled with anxiety, not knowing what to say next, searching blindly for the right words.

“It’s a boy, I know it,” she encloses her hand over mine. “We need to come up with a name. A good masculine name, like Maximus, or Luther, or even Michael.”

“No, not Michael,” I shake my...

Erscheint lt. Verlag	21.4.2020
Sprache	englisch
Themenwelt	Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror
ISBN-10	1-0983-0660-0 / 1098306600
ISBN-13	978-1-0983-0660-1 / 9781098306601

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