Dakota (Ch 16)

My eyes finally came open. I seemed to remember waking up in this bed before. Holt was there. Or at least, I thought he had been. I didn't remember what we had talked about or if we had talked at all. I just remembered that he was there. It could have been a dream. I wasn't sure. My head was still sore. My arm ached. It more than ached. The pain was excruciating. I squeezed the button in my left hand. Medication began to flow into my system. I couldn't remember all the details. But I knew what had happened. I fell. I hurt my arm. Janie fought me. I was thrown down the stairs. I hurt my arm again; I hurt it much worse. And I was in County Med.

I wasn't sure what had happened to Janie though. I was concerned for her. Maybe Holt had decided to arrest her after all. Maybe she too got injured. Maybe she was sitting at home alone. Maybe she was gone. I had only doubts and suppositions. I felt around on my chest and lap. I wanted to call the nurse. I needed to know if my sister was alright.

I tried to lift my right arm. The pain grew exponentially. It shot up my arm, through my shoulder and neck. I grimaced.

"Ugghhh. What was I thinking? Just sit still."

I continued searching for the call button. My fingers traced the cord to the side of my body. It was beneath me. I was lying on it. I shifted my weight to the right side of my body, as much as I could anyway. I tugged at the cord. The device slowly slid out. I lifted it up and searched for the button that would summon the nurse. I pressed firmly. In a moment, a kind face entered the room.

"You're awake! We've been waiting for you to come around. Feeling comfortable?"

I opened my mouth and spoke. Whispers and grunts came out. My mouth was dry. She walked around the bed and picked up a cup of ice shavings. She placed a few between my lips.

"There you are. That'll help. Now try again. And take it slow."

"I just want to know where my sister is. My sister. Janie Samuels."

"Well, you're the only Samuels on this floor. Let me check in the computer. I'll be back. Did you need anything else while I'm here?"

Her smile helped. I could already tell she was good at her job. She cared for people. I knew that she was truly concerned for me.

"No. I'm fine. Just my sister."

"Sure thing. I'll be back in a minute. Don't go anywhere."

She chuckled to herself. I almost rolled my eyes. Instead, I countered back with my own witty remark.

"You better hurry then."

I could feel that the sheets were damp against my back. My head rested at an awkward angle. There was one too many pillows behind me. My right side and arm still ached. I could feel blood pulsing through my arm, healing the wound. I closed my eyes. The light coming through the blinds was too bright. The sound of the machine to my right was annoying. I just wanted silence. I heard soft footsteps enter the room.

"Mr. Samuels?"

My eyes flashed open. They searced the room again, for that kind face.

"Yes. Is she OK?"

"Sir it looks like she was treated in the ER. She was dehydrated and intoxicated, alcohol and narcotics. She was treated and released."

My mind raced. Where would she have gone? Why wasn't she here waiting for me? How could she have gone anywhere?

"Did you see the Sheriff here?"

"Yes. He was here just after I came on. He said that you could call him when you felt up to it."

"Can you get me the number for the Sheriff's department? And the phone?"

"Yes sir."

"You can call me Jake. I have a feeling I'm going to be here a while."

"Well, Jake, you can call me Karen then. I was worried about you."

She kept eye contact as she headed for the nurse's station. One last smile. Was she flirting? That was odd. Maybe she was just being nice. Maybe it was the drugs.

She returned with Sheriff Holt's card. She moved around the bed and picked up the phone. She punched in the number and placed the receiver in my left hand. It was ringing. He answered. We spoke only briefly. He was already on his way. He had hoped I would finally be awake. I extended my arm and she took the phone.

"Everything alright?"

"I'll know when he gets here. When was I brought into the ER? Yesterday?"

"Mmhmm."

"I never thought a broken arm would hurt so much."

"Well yours is a rather unusual case. It doesn't come to this very often."

"Come to what?"

"Extensive surgery."

"For a broken arm? Why was that necessary? I just fell down the stairs."

"Perhaps, but Jake, your forearm was broken before you landed. Impact fractured your wrist. Your forearm break compounded, punctured the skin and impaled your right side."

"How is that even possible?"

"It's a rare outcome, but clearly it can and does happen."

"That explains why the pain is so extreme."

"Your forearm was completely shattered. The doctors couldn't just put it in a cast and send you on your way. They had to insert a steel rod. And pins for your wrist. They had to sew up the wound to your abdomen as well."

"That's pretty intense. My arm is going to be fine though, right?"

"From what they tell me. You're going to need a good deal of physical therapy. Like I said, I was really worried when they brought you in last night. I was just about finished my shift when the bus rolled in."

"Why so worried? I'm just another patient. Part of your job."

"True, but I don't know all the patients."

"Know the patients? I'm sorry but I don't think we know each other."

"Don't you recognize me Jake?"

I studied her face. I hadn't been in Dakota for a long time. Nothing jumped out at me. I didn't know her. She was mistaken.

"I'm sorry. I don't."

"Jake, it's me, Karen. Karen Watts. Well, Karen Jamison now. Wessington High Class of '93."

My mind recharged. Synapses reconnected. My capacities restarted.

"Oh, Karen Watts. Karen Watts! How are you? I don't think I've seen you since a couple weeks after graduation. No wait, there was that class at
SD State. Freshman year. Before I left for Chicago."

"Yeah. I'm good. I mean, I'm divorced. That was a huge mistake. We were together for almost ten years. I woke up one morning and he was gone. Left me with his lousy dog and close to a hundred grand in debt. The only good thing was there were no children involved."

"I'm sorry to hear that Karen. Love sucks. Just end up getting screwed."

"I'm not quite that cynical. But yeah, he sucked. He was an ass. I should have known."

"Don't beat yourself up."

"Don't worry. I should really check on the other patients Jake. I'll stop around in a little while. Try to rest. The sheriff should be here soon anyway. But don't get too worked up. You need to keep that arm still. And I'll be back with breakfast in a bit if you are up for it."

"Alright, thanks Karen."

"Need anything before I go?"

"No. You're smile is enough."

She blushed and went on her way.

"That was stupid."

I muttered to myself. What was I thinking? I sighed and closed my eyes. I was energized. And I was hungry.

Dakota (Ch 15)

When Kahle arrived, he found Lyle Holt sitting outside room 104. Rebekah Dekolowitz was being discharged in the morning. She seemed fine. But she was still angry, not about the accident, or her car. No, she was angry that Jake hadn't welcomed her with open arms. Holt hadn't thought it appropriate to tell her about the incidents that had occurred after her departure. She shouldn't find out like this, from him. It wasn't his place.

He rose from the plastic chair. He was anxious. He wanted to know what Kahle had on Janie Samuels. It had to be big. Why else would he need to meet him at the hospital?

"Sheriff"

Kahle smiled. He never called Holt by his official title. They had known each other too long for that.

"Sorry, Lyle. Just feel you've earned your place around here lately."

"Ha. Yeah, thanks Donny. But cut to the chase. What do you have on the girl?"

"Not here. There's gotta be a room where we can talk."

"This way."

Holt directed Kahle to a small office behind him. It was the kind of room used for doctors to consult with families. It was generic, plain, empty. They grey walls met the white tile floor. The room contained only a table and three chairs. Two were black plastic. The other was an office chair. Kahle stepped to the other side of the table and sat in the nicer chair. Holt took a seat in the chair nearest the door. He closed the door and waited.

"So how much has Jake told you about this sister?"

"Basically nothing. I met her today. She came home drunk while I was there talking about the case with Jake."

"Well, there's a lot to tell. Not even sure where to start. You want the story chronologically or by severity of offenses?"

"Let's keep it simple. Timeline it for me."

"Sure thing. From what I gathered, which was difficult mind you-this girl only carried cash and never set up a permanent address in four years, she left home at sixteen. Stole her daddy's truck. She went west to Seattle. Then South, as least as far as Tijuana. From the start she was into trouble. I mean started before she even left home, but it began for sure when she set off on this journey."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Drugs. Alcohol. Men."

"Details, Kahle. Give me details."

"She was able to fly under the radar. Never really got busted for anything. She was always let go. Only charges are for misdemeanors. The substance is in who she spent the past four years with."

"And..."

"One loser after another. It started smaller. A druggy in Seattle. In San Francisco, they cited her for solicitation. Never officially charged her though. By the time she made it to L.A. she was working for a pimp. Had a regular corner. A pretty good one from what I understand. She up and took off for Mexico one day. That's when the liquor really took hold. She filed three rape reports in Mexican cities. None were ever substantiated and she later withdrew the charges each time. She shows up on the grid in Costa Rica and Panama too but I can't find any solid information about those."

"It's a sad story. I don't argue that. But I don't see how this is pertinent to my case, Kahle."

"That's because I didn't mention the worst part."

"Then spit it out Donny, dammit!"

"She left a wake of dead bodies behind her."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Everywhere she went. Every guy that screwed her over. Well, she got the last word."

"She killed them. All of them?"

"Not exactly. But she left her mark."

"Details, Donny, give me the details."

"First stop was the upper NW right?"

"Yeah"

"Alright so she was young, this was an adventure still. Only she was already jaded, angry; there was something wrong. It's clear it was the first time, but she was with this dealer. A trafficker too, uh, Max Poutekki. He roughed her up. Put her in the hospital. When she got out, she found him. Some sort of struggle ensued and they both ended up in the hospital. She was pretty badly beaten. But he - they pulled buckshot out of his torso. Damn girl shot him!"

"And yet she was let go?"

"She took off before they could arrest her. That's when she started going South."

"How were you able to find all of this out? She was still a minor. She's only 20 now. Any records that do exist, which apparently is not many, would be sealed."

"Lyle. Consider who you are talking to. C'mon. If it's on a digital document, I can access it. I know you and technology don't exactly gel, but God, watch an episode of CSI every now and again."

"Shut up Donny. Just tell me what happened next."

"Next thing I could find had her in San Fran. Like I said, she got picked up for working a corner. A guy took her back to his place. Things apparently got out of hand and she nearly cut off his ear. There's no name on that reco--"

"C'mon Kahle. Seriously. You expect me to believe this garbage?"

"Lyle, I'm telling you, Janie Samuels is violent. She's one scary bitch. Anyway, there's a pretty wide gap in time and then she shows up in the City of Angels. She did get busted on a couple of minor drug operations and once for underage drinking. Petty stuff. I think there was even a larceny arrest. This was still before her eighteenth."

"Get to the big stuff. Who'd she screw over?"

"Damon Artemis or "Snuff". He was her pimp. She was his whore. I don't know the details of what went down. But whatever happened, it left him dead. Shotgun. Close range. That's when she ran. She really ran. She made it to Mexico and decided she wanted to live a strung out life from bottle to bottle, man to man, high to high."

"I'm still finding all this a little hard to believe."

"Sheriff. Look at me."

Holt knew Kahle was serious. He wasn't playing games. There was no exaggeration.

"Sheriff, I am telling you. This is what happened. What I could find anyways. I'd bet there's more out there. I don't think that I've found it all."

"I trust you Donny. I do. If you say she did it, then she did. But even if she did kill some pimp, "Smurf" or whatever, I don't see her killing her own brother. And what about Murphy? Why would she kill him?"

"Lyle and I can't tell you how all the pieces fit together right now. The only thing I can tell you is that once you finish this puzzle, you are going to have picture of Janie Samuels. Bank on it. She did or she caused it. She is the crux."

"Maybe so Donny. But what do I do with her, arrest her?"

"It's not our case. We have no evidence and in all honesty we have no right to know what we know. Yeah, I found out, but I didn't exactly follow protocol. You can't just call up the Homicide desk in L.A. and say you have their girl. She was a minor. Your hands are tied. All you can do is keep both eyes open and don't turn your back."

"That's easier said than done. You've put me in a tough spot, Donny. I know why you did and I'm glad that you did. But if I were you, I'd keep digging. I want details of what went on in Mexico. What made her turn around and come back? From what Jake told me, she didn't know the parents and Jason were dead when she got home. She was clueless. Something drove her back to Dakota. Find it."

"Yessir. I'm on it."

Holt rose to his feet. He glared down at Kahle.

"And if you say she showed up on the grid in Panama and Costa Rica, I want to know why. I want to know why she was there, what she did, where she stayed."

"Done. I'll search harder."

"And Donny don't make a mistake. Don't get caught. I'll claim no prior knowledge of this virtual sleuthing."

"Don't worry Lyle. I don't leave a trail. No footprints in cyberspace. I'll get you what you want."

"Good. And Fast."

Dakota (Ch 14)

I had never felt so warm before. It was like a tight hug from someone you really cared about. And they just didn't let go. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to keep sleeping. I didn't want to wake up. I didn't want that feeling to end. I felt that warmth so long that I didn't remember a time apart from it. I was lying under the sun in a field of grasses knee-high. The sun washed over me. The sun was the warmth that covered me. The light was brilliant. It would have been blinding, but in that place-there it only made everything seem more alive.

The sun fell behind a mountain with the sound of a million shattering light bulbs. The warmth disappeared. Suddenly, I was cold. I was very cold. Colder than I could imagine. The field was gone. I was on a slab of ice afloat in the frigid waters of some distant ocean. My body shivered, shuttered. I convulsed.

Then came the pain. It travelled through my body from the inside out. It radiated from within me. I couldn't handle this. It was too much. My arm was on fire and yet so cold at the same time. My side ached. My head throbbed. I didn't know what was going on. I only knew that I wished the sun would rise again. I wanted that warmth. I wanted that radiant light.

"Jake."

I began to hear a voice, clouded and muddled. The voice called out to me. I didn't see anyone. I was alone on this floating frozen vessel.

"Jake. Can you hear me?"

The voice spoke again. The light of the sun had completely vanished. I lay in complete darkness. Nothing before me but the black. An empty black space. The pain grew worse.

"Jake. Jake."

I tried to respond. I tried to answer back. Nothing. I opened my mouth. Spoke. But nothing came out. I screamed at the top of my lungs. Still the voice did not hear me.

"Jake. Can you hear me?"

A single point of light broke through the darkness. It fluttered around, first on my left. It hung in mid air. I wanted to touch it. It jumped to my right side. I spoke to the light.

"I see you. I see the light."

"Jake, you can see me?"

"Who are you? What are you?"

"What am I? Jake, take your time. Focus."

The light rushed toward me, expanding. It grew faster, larger. It collided with my broken body. An instant of intense warmth followed by the return of the extreme cold and the pain. Oh, the pain.

The flashlight hung before my face. I felt the cool cloth on my face. I saw concern in his eyes, the sweat on his brow.

"Jake. Jake."

"Lyle."

The word barely trickled off my tongue. The pain intensified. It was excruciating. My back arched involuntarily. My right side was warm and wet. The rest of my body felt like ice. I tried to speak again.

"What...hap, happened?"

"Jake. Oh, thank God! Stay with me Jake. Stay with me. I need you to keep your eyes open. I need you to just relax and stay awake."

I nodded my head. That was a mistake.

"OK."

I uttered. I'm sure it sounded lazy, but it involved more effort than lifting a car over my head. Those two syllables carried an inexplicable weight.

"Janie is alright. She's passed out again, but she is going to be OK. The ambulance is on its way Jake. They'll be here soon."

"Mmhm."

That was all I could muster. I wanted to stay awake. I wanted to pay attention. But I couldn't. The pain was overwhelming. It was too much. The dark returned. The cold came back. The ice surrounded me.

"Dammit. I lost him again."

/ / /

It wasn't until I was somewhere between the house on Elk River Lane and County Medical Center that I awoke again. The faces before me were strange and unfamiliar. The voices spoke of my condition. They discussed me like I was a number, an object.

"I'm right here. I'm human! I'm still alive"

I wanted to scream. But I couldn't. My mouth was covered by an oxygen mask. I felt the needle puncture my left arm. They placed the IV bag on a stand by my head. I watched life drip back into my body. I tried to move my arm. It was stiff. My right side was completely numb. The pain, the pain was still there.

The ride was bumpy and unappreciated. I wanted out. Damn South Dakota. Is there one square tire on this thing? Why hadn't I just let Janie sleep it off on the couch. Memories of that afternoon began to filter in. They were brief and out of order. I tried to mentally piece together what I could remember. Where was Janie? Where was she now?

The point of light returned. I felt my eye being held open. Blink. Then the other. Blink.

"He's awake. He's conscious."

"Good. What about the bleeding?"

"No. I can't stop it. It's bad. It just keeps soaking through the wrap."

"He lost a lot of blood. Try tying off his upper arm."

"I did."

"Tie it tighter."

I heard the voices discussing my condition. I was bleeding. Why was I bleeding? Where was I bleeding? How much was 'a lot'? The darkness and cold rushed back.

/ / /

"What's his condition."

"Well, to be honest Sheriff, he is extremely lucky. He should be waking up. You can see him in a minute. As you know, the initial broken forearm was a pretty standard break from what we can tell. When his arm got kicked into the wall his forearm fracture compounded. His fall down the stairs accentuated his condition. His back is badly bruised from hitting the banister. The force and momentum of his fall placed all his weight on his shattered arm. On impact, his wrist broke as well. The angle and force with which his arm hit the ground caused the bone to break the skin and effectively left the lower portion of his right arm dangling, attached only by the muscles, nerves, and skin tissue."

"That's fairly extreme. Can you repair his arm?"

"We've done our best. He has a steel rod now instead of a forearm. His wrist is a mess of pins melding the new arm to his hand. It'll be a while before it's fully healed. Months. Thankfully, the nerves and muscles were not damaged extensively. There will be a fair amount of scar tissue in the arm but he'll be alright in time. Never one hundred percent again in that arm, but fully functioning nonetheless."

"Anything else?"

"Apart from the arm? Yes. He clearly suffered a concussion from his head hitting the floor. The paramedics reported that he threw up on himself in transit. That is quite typical of a head injury. He is only now regaining consciousness post-op so I am unsure if there will be any loss of memory. More than likely, things will be fuzzy at best. But more importantly Sheriff, I said that the bone in his forearm punctured the skin when it fractured. The force of his fall actually impaled him. The paramedics said the bone was still wedged into his right abdomen when they arrived on scene."

"I didn't move the body. I didn't want to make anything worse. I stepped outside with his sister once they arrived. I had no idea."

"Well, it's a damn good thing you didn't move the body. Had you done so, he would have bled out. He lost a lot of blood as it was. Had that puncture wound been left open for a prolonged period, like you had to wait, we wouldn't be having this discussion."

"Oh, God. Did the bone do any damage?"

"It had the effect of being stabbed. An inch higher and it would have missed the thicker abdomen muscles and more than likely punctured his right kidney. He got lucky. Like I said. But I really think he's going to be fine. He just needs time."

"Good. Good. What about the sister?"

"Well, the sister is still being detoxified. She has a long road to a full recovery. Her body, her system is so messed up. Her liver is practically destroyed. The heavy use of narcotics has ravaged her nervous system. I don't know. It could go either way. I mean, she is going to walk out of here fine essentially, but she is going to have to make some big decisions, take big steps in the right direction if she wants to get better."

"Thanks Dr. Danvers."

He turned toward Jake's room. He wanted him to know he wasn't alone.

"Oh, Julie..."

He caught her sleeve as she was rounding the corner

"There was someone else brought in that night, not sure if you caught her. Um, a Rebekah something."

"Let me check."

She stepped behind the nurse's station and typed in the name. She tapped her thumb on the space bar, waiting. She raised her finger to the screen aand scanned.

"Um. Rebekah Dekolowitz. Um, it looks like she was brought in after a traffic accident. She collided with a tr--"

"I know that. What's her condition? Is she still here?"

"She was treated for some minor burns, cuts, and scrapes and smoke inhalation. Uh. OK, here. She also suffered a broken left leg and cracked 2 ribs in the accident. Her head hit the windshield in the crash, causing a concussion. Anything else? Oh, she's in room 104."

"Thanks. She's my next stop."

"This related to the Samuels' cases?"

"Jake's ex. She was leaving the house when she hit the tree. She delayed his ambulance, blocked the road."

"Sounds like it was an eventful day up there in Wessington."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not used to this. I'll catch up with you later Doc."

"Yeah. See ya."

Holt stepped to the door of room 327. He saw Jake's eyes blinking, the bright light overhead blinding him. He raised his hand to push open the door. His mind shifted. Where was Donny Kahle? He released the handle and the let door come back towards him. He grabbed his phone and dialed.

"Kahle? Where are you? I thought you were going to meet me at the hospital."

"Holt. I'm sorry. I got called out to Spink County. They wanted me on a case."

"Right now?"

"You know those idiots, Lyle. Waste of my time. I'm just getting back now. I can be there in fifteen."

"Alright. I'm checking on Jake. Then I'm headed to check on the ex-girlfriend. We need to run a background on her. She's out there, crazy. I need to know her story."

"Ex-girlfriend?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it when you get here."

"Sit tight. I'll hurry."

"10-4. Out."

"Out."

Dakota (Ch 13)

"I don't know who he thinks he is. I drive all this way and he treats me like dirt. I'm not dirt. Look at me. Just look at me. I have guys crawling over each other to get at me. I have options. And he goes and treats me like this. I don't deserve this. But he needs me. He can't go on without me. He's such a jerk, acting like he doesn't need me. Who is he kidding?"

She gripped the steering wheel as if her body dangled helplessly over a cliff. Her vision was clouded with tears and vanity. She maneuvered the vehicle down the winding gravel road, with no precaution. Her emotions were unrelenting, inexplicable, irrational. She swerved, creating a cloud of dust in her wake.

"Screw you Jake. I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving this no man's land until I get what I came for. I'm taking my man back. We're leaving this place together. Things are gonna be like they used to be. They're gonna be better."

She heard the muffled sound of her phone ringing from her purse. She reached her right hand into the bottomless pit of a bag and searched for it. Where was it? Maybe it was him. Where was the phone? She turned her head to look into the sack that was her purse. When her eyes returned to the road, she had just enough time to right the trajectory of the car. A low hanging limb caught the antenna and passenger side mirror. She didn't seem to care. She kept digging for the phone.

"Ah, got it. Hello? Mom, hi, yeah I was going to call you. Mom, calm down, I'm fine. I know, I know. I should have told you I wouldn't be home. Where am I? Well...don't freak out. Promise? OK, well, I uh, I...I'm in South Dakota. You said you weren't going to freak out. Shut up. No shut up. This is my life. I'll damn well do what I want. Mom, I have to do this. I have to. Stop. Just stop. Mom..."

Her attention had faded from her driving. She paid no mind to the road that stretched before her. Her speed increased. Her steering became more erratic.

"No you listen to me. I'm a grown woman. I'm not losing him. I won't let it happen. He's not perfect either. I don't care; we're going to be together. He misses me, I know it. He still wants me. He does. Stop. Stop it. He does. Mom don't..."

/ / /

Holt's right hand instinctively moved to his right hip. He was ready, if he needed to be. He glanced to Janie. Her head had slumped forward. She had passed out again. The figure before him stood still at the door. It was then that he noticed how large the puddle of blood beneath Jake's body had become.

"Please state your name, Miss."

He rose to his feet.

"Carolyn Murphy. Sheriff we spoke on the phone. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

He relaxed but dropped to his knees again. The amount of blood concerned him.

"This probably isn't the best time, Mrs. Murphy.

"I really didn't expect to walk in on something like this. I mean, I've never met Jacob Samuels, but I didn't expect this."

"Well he's had an eventful day."

Her calm demeanor struck an odd chord. This woman had just lost her husband. And she had lost him quite unexpectedly. He was murdered and dumped in the woods. Yet now, she walked into a house she didn't know and saw the body of man sprawled across the living room floor and she offered no reaction. This was abnormal. This wasn't right.

"After burying my husband, I stayed in for a while. I didn't do much, go out. I drove up today to talk to Mr. Samuels. I wanted to talk to him about our situation. You know, since his brother was also killed."

She spoke as though this sort of thing happened everyday. There was an air of nonchalance. The words came easily; they rolled off her tongue like a familiar story.

"Ma'am I'm sorry. But Jake's hurt. He's hurt real bad. I can't talk about the case now and clearly he can't either."

"Will they be taking him to County? Perhaps I can follow the ambulance."

"I don't think that's appropriate. I don't think this is the time."

"Hmmm. You might be right. But I drove all the way out here, I'd hate for it to be for nothing."

Did she really not get it? Look at him. He's lying on the floor. There is a puddle of blood growing larger by the minute. He can't talk right now. What needed to be explained?

"Like I said, now just isn't the time. He's gonna need some time to recover. It might be a while. I've got my hands full here."

She stepped past Janie without acknowledgment and took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa. Somehow it still hadn't sunken in. He reached for his radio.

"What's the ETA on the medics? The bleeding is getting worse here."

The muffled response crackled and faded. Holt's head dropped. Ten more minutes. Janie still sat lifeless on the couch. Jake was unresponsive, but still breathing.

"Are you sure there is nothing we can discuss about the case while we wait, Sheriff?"

"Not now. Look around. This isn't the time."

His patience was wearing thin. If she pushed him much farther, he was going to start yelling. He didn't want to yell at her, but it was quickly coming to that. His phone chirped. He exhaled.

"Holt. Go 'head."

"Holt. Kahle here. I've got something for ya."

He really didn't want to talk about the investigation. Especially not with Murphy's widow sitting across the room staring at him.

"Really. Right now Kahle?"

"What's going on? You on a call?"

"I've got my hands full over here Donny."

"Where you at? You need a hand?"

"No, no. I've got it under control. Nothing else that can be done. Medics on its way. Comin' up to the Samuel's place."

"What happened?"

"There's a sister. She's a drunk. She sent Jake flying down the stairs. It's pretty bad. He's lucky that I was here when it happened."

"Yeah, well about that. We need to talk. Is she there with you right now?"

"She's passed out on the sofa. Why?"

"You bringing her in to County too?"

"Yeah, they're both coming in when the bus gets here."

"Good. I'll meet you there. Just keep her in your sights."

"Kinda freaking me out Kahle. But don't worry. I'm watching."

"Alright Sheriff. I'll see you in the ER."

"10-4 Donny. Out"

"Over n'out."

He returned his phone to its clip on his belt. He reached for the radio on his shoulder. His eyes met Carolyn's. There was an excitement now visible. She wanted to know what had developed with the case. He knew she wanted to ask. He hoped she wouldn't

"Dispatch."

He thought he saw Jake's eyes begin to open. He squeezed Jake's left hand. No response.

"Dispatch. I'm still waiting on an ambulance. I need a paramedic up here. Where're they at?"

He waited. There was only fuzzy reverb that emitted from his radio.

"Dispatch."

"Sheriff Holt. The ambulance is reporting that Elk River Lane is blocked 1 mile North of the main road."

"Blocked? By what?"

"The crew says a car drove into a tree. The accident had just occurred. They pulled the driver out. She's going to be OK. But they requested a fire truck. The vehicle is fully involved. They fear the pines could catch fire."

"God dammit. I need an ambulance up here. Can you send it down Elk River from the North end."

"Negative, Sheriff. The county tells me they haven't cleared the road north of the bridge."

"Tell 'em they gotta hurry. They gotta get that car out of the way. They have to move it."

"The fire department is now on site. When the blaze is under control, they'll pull the vehicle out of the way if they can. Sorry, Sheriff."

"Keep me posted."

"10-4."

It was Rebekah. What else could possibly go wrong. Wessington wasn't the place it had been before Jake Samuels returned.

"Jake, can you hear me?"

Dakota (Ch 12)

I led Janie up the stairs, more or less; I carried her. I didn't like seeing her like this. I needed her full story. I couldn't wait any longer. When she slept off this hangover, she was going to tell me everything. I wanted every detail. I needed to know what I was dealing with before she hurt herself, or someone else.

I was now indebted to Sheriff Holt. I knew that he had a soul and I was glad to see that he still listened to what his heart told him. He knew this was the right thing to do whether or not it was the legal thing to do.

I stumbled on the last step. Janie was completely out again and I hadn't been working out in the days since her arrival, I had felt weak. I caught myself from landing on top of her, unfortunately, she landed on my right arm. The awkward position between the rise of the step and the upstairs floor was enough to do the damage. I immediately knew. My forearm was broken.

If today hadn't been erratic enough, a broken bone was exactly what I needed. I winced from the pain. I held back the scream. I wanted to yell. I wanted to, but I couldn't. Janie was passed out, drunk in my arms. Sheriff Holt was most likely still working on getting Rebekah back to her car. And Rebekah, well she was crazy, I didn't doubt it.

I reached across my body with my left hand and gently rolled Janie off my right arm and onto the floor. I tapped her left cheek.

"Janie. Janie. Wake up. Janie, wake up. I need you to wake up Janie."

"Ughhh, no, I said no."

I shook her.

"Janie. Wake up. Please wake up Janie. Dammit, my arm."

I tried to keep still.

"No, don't hit me. Ahhhh! I said no! Stop! Let me go!"

She started sobbing. She was half awake. Still half asleep. Facing one of her demon's. And she wasn't winning. They were still very real to her. They still controlled her.

"NO! Get off me! Get off! I said no, you pervert. Get off!"

She was crying almost uncontrollably now. I tried to nudge her. I tried to wake her. But I couldn't move. My arm needed something to brace it. I crouched at the top of the stairs, her legs still under my body.

"NO! NO! Don't do it! No! I said no! You're supposed to stop. Please stop!"

She was full out screaming now. She was terrified. She was getting frantic.

"NO! NO! NO! Oh, please, please, just stop!"

She starting kicking, writhing around on the floor. I tried to hold her still. I tried to protect my already shattered wrist from being kicked. But I couldn't move it. With the smallest movement, the pain was excruciating.

"Janie, please wake up. It's OK, I'm right here. Janie, it's just a bad dream. It's not real. He's not here. Wake up Janie."

"NO! Stop, you're hurting me. Please stop, oww, it hurts..."

Her shouts trailed off into sobs.

I heard the door open. This isn't what I needed. There was no good option. It was either Holt or Rebekah. I didn't want either of them involved in this.

"Jake. Jake, what's going on in here?"

It was Holt. I tried to stay calm, stay still.

"I'm on the stairs Lyle. My wrist is broken. I can't move. Janie's passed out."

I yelled over her screaming. I wasn't sure if he could hear me.

"Why's she screaming? I could hear her outside. She's out of control. She needs help."

"I know that. I know that. I'm going to help her. She came home for help and I'm going to help her. But I'm in pain here Lyle. Please. Can you please move her before she kicks my arm. I can't move. It hurts too bad. Oh, God it kills."

"No! Get off me! Stop!"

"I'm coming up Jake. I'm behind you. Sit still. Dammit, she's made a mess of you. Alright, OK. Janie, Janie, it's Sheriff Holt. You're hallucinating. Janie. Janie can you hear me? Wake up Janie!"

His mistake? He shook her. He touched her.

"I SAID NO. STOP! GET OFF ME YOU BASTARD!"

She went ballistic. Her body contorted and shook, writhing with speed and force I hadn't expected from her small frame. I couldn't avoid it. I wasn't able to move fast enough. I tried, despite the pain, but I just couldn't. Janie's legs swung out from under my body and smashed my already throbbing arm into the wall. Had I not bit my tongue, I would have screamed. Holt tried to get control of her. He tried to hold her still. But her adrenaline made him no match to contain her fury. Her legs swung back and I collapsed upon them. She was screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Janie. Janie Samuels. Wake up miss. It's alright. You're OK. You're having a nightmare. You're safe."

"AAAhhhhhhh"

With one final grunt, she pulled her legs in and then thrust them forward. She sent me hurtling backwards down the stairs. My body slammed into the banister my father had carved from trees he hewed with his own hands. My body turned and I could now see my landing fast approaching. I tried to get my left arm in front of me, to brace my fall, but it was no use. There wasn't time. I threw my right arm out in front of me. I felt my wrist snap back. I dropped like a sack of potatoes. My head collided with the hardwood floor. The pain was too much. I felt the blood running down my arm. I felt it collecting against my body, my arm twisted beneath my torso. I felt the room spinning. My eyes rolled back. The pain overcame me.

"Jake! Dammit."

Holt grabbed Janie under the arms. She was still kicking, screaming out expletives to her nightmare attacker. He hoisted her into the bed in the room to the left of the stairs. He didn't want to leave her alone. But he had no choice. He had to go to Jake. He reached for his radio and called in the incident. He requested two ambulances.

He exited the room and hurried down the stairs.

"Jake, hang in there. Help is on the way. Help's coming. You're going to be alright. Hold on."

There was no response. No movement. He didn't want to move the body. Holt could tell that Jake was still breathing. He checked the pulse anyway. It was still there. Holt could do nothing but wait. He was helpless. He needed the paramedics. But response to this part of the forest was slow.

He turned to the kitchen and grabbed a rag from the counter. He soaked it in cold water and returned to Jake. He placed it on the lifeless forehead, then moved it to the back of his neck. He needed him to wake up. He wanted him awake.

He left him for a moment and sprinted up the wooden stairs to check on Janie. The window had been swung open and she hung onto the frame with one arm.

"I think I can fly. It's so pretty out here. I want to fly like the birdies. Hmhmhm. Just let go and let your wings do the work Janie. Just let go. I'll fly way up into that tree. I'll look down on all the dragons and pirates and mermaids."

Her laughter sent chills through him. She was more than drunk. She was high. He should have known. He should have noticed. He should have followed his instincts, taken her in. Why had he let Jake Samuels talk him out of it? He shook his head in frustration. He refocused on the girl in the window. She hadn't noticed Holt's presence. He crept along the wall, staying in the shadows. He didn't utter a sound.

"Hmhmhmhm. I'm a raven, no, no. I'm an eagle. Wait. I like pelicans. I'm a pelican. I eat fish. Hmhmhmhmhm. Hm fish."

Just as he lunged toward the window, he saw her letting go. He reached. He stretched to catch her. He closed his eyes. He could only hope he got there in time. He felt flesh meet his fingers. He sighed in relief and reopened his eyes.

"Thank God. Thank God."

He pulled her back towards the window by her arm. She suddenly seemed lucid.

"Oh, hello, officer. Thank you. It was getting chilly out there. I think I'll lie down and take a nap."

"Janie. Janie."

"Yessir?"

"Janie, I need you to come down stairs with me. You can rest on the sofa. You can wait there."

"Wait for what?"

"The ambulance. Your brother is hurt. He needs an ambulance."

"Oh my, Jake is hurt? Is he going to be OK? What did he do? What happened?"

Her voice had an eerily airy quality. It was as though she wasn't completely there.

"He needs a hospital, but I think he'll be fine. Let's go. I need to check on him. Come with me Janie. It's alright. Let's go downstairs."

Holt led Janie down the stairs. He assured her that it looked much worse than it probably was. He sat her on the couch and returned to Jake's side. He checked again for a pulse. It was still there. He moved the rag back to Jake's forehead.

"Jake. Jake. You're OK. The ambulance is on it's way. Hang in there. Janie's alright Jake. She's OK. You're going to be fine too. Just stay with me. Jake..."

As he tried to revive Jake, the Sheriff's eyes rose from the motionless body. In the frame of the open door with the sun behind her, he saw the outline of a woman.

"Miss? Can I help you? Who's there?"

The setting sun and the darkness of the room made it impossible to determine the identity of the mystery woman.

"Miss? Why are you here? Is there something wrong? Miss?"

Dakota (Ch 11)

I reached for the knob. Sheriff Holt needed to return to his office. I hoped he could find Jason's killer, but I just didn't know if I had the confidence that he would. This was a small town. He wasn't used to this kind of investigation. I didn't know if he could handle it. I don't think he knew if he could handle it either. That worried me more. I'm sure that there was more that could have been done in order to find the killer that had taken my brother's life. I had no control though. There was nothing that I could do. Sadly, I had to learn to be alright with that. I had to come to terms with the fact that Jason's killer may never be caught due to the inept abilities of the police force in my backwoods town. It was the nature of living in South Dakota.

Janie came falling through the door as I pulled it open. Sheriff Holt caught her before she hit the floor. It was in that moment I realized that he was still unaware of her return, or her existence for that matter.

"Sheriff this is my little sister, Janie. I don't believe you've met."

I shrugged my shoulders and tried to mask my feelings of uneasiness.

"Miss, you alright?"

"Me, oh yeah mista, I'm just fine. How you doin'?"

She rubbed against him and snapped the hat off of Holt's head and danced around the room. Stumbling. Tripping. Falling. But his hat broke her fall. She erupted in laughter as she rolled on the rug, wedged between the coffee table and sofa.

"Miss have you been drinking?"

"Ah ha ha ha, hmmmm, huh!"

Well if the ridiculous behavior didn't give her away, the drunken hiccup was sure to. I wasn't interested in being her savior. She was a big girl. She had to be responsible for her own acts. I was more than agitated that she was drunk in the middle of the day. I was ashamed that Sheriff Holt was meeting her for the first time, like this. It was a reflection on me. Wasn't it? Either way. It just looked bad.

"I don't know what to tell you Holt."

I didn't want to be remind myself that he was the Sheriff. I played the friend card.

"Jake this is serious. She just drove in this state. She's very visibly intoxicated. I can't have people getting piss-ass drunk and driving around up here. It's bad enough with the danger Mother Nature throws at us with storms and wild animals. Drunk drivers I don't tolerate. I can't just look the other way."

My plan failed. Janie lay curled up in the fetal position opposite the fireplace, still giggling, but drifting to sleep.

"I understand your concern and I completely agree with you. I don't want to deal with this, be her guardian, but I don't really have a choice here, and neither does she. I'm all she's got. She's had a lot of problems in the past few years. She just came home and got hit with the news that nearly every piece of a family that she thought she had, was dead. She needs a break. Just one, Lyle. I haven't asked you for much. I've let you do your thing with this investigation. I haven't bothered you. I've been patient, waited. Waited for news, an arrest. I'm not blaming you for the progress in the case, or lack thereof. But I am asking you now, as a friend, to have some compassion. This girl needs it. This girl deserves that much. Look at her. She needs a break. Cut her some slack. If she messes up again, fine, throw the book at her. But right now that's not what she needs, it's not what she can handle. Give me a chance. Give her a chance. That's all I can ask."

I threw it all out there. Well, except the part about her still being underage. There was no holding back. I changed my mind. This was my sister. My only sister. My only family. I wasn't going to let her get hauled away for this. I didn't know all of what she had done in the past four years, but from what I already knew, I knew there had to be at least one demon in her closet. I wasn't going to let it be unveiled like this, no not like this. She needed a break. I was going to ensure she got it.

"Jacob Samuels you are asking for a hell of a lot. You might not think so but, dammit, you are. This ain't loitering. This is big shit. I've got a job to do, people to answer to. I've got to keep order. I won't stand for it."

"Lyle."

"I'm not your friend in this Jake. I'm not. Stop throwing first names around like it's gonna make a difference. I'm not stupid. I get it, I get what you're trying to do, alright. Yeah, she's your sister. She's been through a lot. I get it. But you know, we've all been through a lot. There comes a time when I have to hold people accountable. I'm the law in this town."

Perhaps I went too far. I couldn't let him take her in. I wouldn't.

"Sheriff."

I shifted back to the respect for authority approach.

"I understand your position. I don't want you to think that I am trying to take advantage of you, or our situation. I just need you to look the other way. Just this once. I know, I know it's wrong. But, please, Sheriff. Look at her."

I looked back to Janie, her body was splayed over the arm of the sofa, she had passed out. She was already drooling. She already smelled of vomit. She was a mess. I shook my head. I couldn't believe it and yet I wasn't surprised. What was she thinking? What was I thinking? What was I doing?

"Jake. Get that girl upstairs and keep a God damn short leash on her. I'll be watching out for her. If I see it again, I'll throw the book at her, don't you doubt it. I mean it Jacob Samuels. She's yours now. You own her behavior. You just became her daddy. I hope you're happy."

"Yessir Sheriff. It won't happen again. You have my word."

"Yeah well it better not. Dammit, I'm serious here."

Holt turned in defeat, trying to hold on to his stern declaration. I followed him back to the door. I shook his hand with another affirmation of my responisbility for Janie's well-being.

"What the hell is going on?"

We turned to look into the woods beyond the door.

"Is Jake okay?"

A young woman came running down the walk and into the room. She caught me in a wild embrace. I stood emotionless, pushing her away.

"Jake, who is this?"

She finally let go of me and stepped back into the room, facing the fireplace.

"Who am I? Who am I? Who the hell is she? What did you do to her Jake? What did you do?"

She collapsed at my feet in a torrent of tears. She beat at my legs with her fists.

"What did you do you sick freak!"

"Rebekah. Get off me. Get your hands off me. Why the hell are you here. Get out. I told you when I left Chicago. It's over. There's nothing else to say. Dammit, get out of my house!"

"Jake, I'm sorry but what's going on here?"

I had forgotten about the Sheriff for a moment.

"I'm sorry Sheriff. This is my ex. My crazy ex, Rebekah. She's delusional, as you can see."

"I'm not delusional you bastard."

"She took the break up a little rough. It's ironic though since she was the one sleeping with half of Chicago!"

"Oh really, come on Jake! You know that's not true. I made a mistake. Yes, I repeated that mistake, but it was still only one guy. I'm sorry. I realize what I lost. I miss you."

"Rebekah it's not going to happen. And you're not staying here. So, goodbye. You need to leave now."

"Jake, I drove here from Chicago. For you. Jake, please."

She had yet to regain any sense of composure. I guided her to the porch and stepped back inside, closing the door.

"Goodbye Rebekah."

I turned back to the Sheriff who was standing in a stupified state next to the stairs.

"I'm sorry Sheriff. This has been an eventful day. I'm sorry. I need to take care of Janie now."

"Jake. This place is a circus. Take the tent down, send the animals home and get it under control."

"Yeah, I got it Sheriff. I'm sorry. And if she's still out there, could you escort her off my property. I don't want to deal with her."

"Sure Jake. If that's what you want."

"Oh it's what I want."

Dakota (Ch 10)

Christmas had come and gone. A new year had dawned. Things were slowly changing. Every step she took was new, small. Rebekah was reentering the world. She got a job, got out of the house, and stopped calling him. She was getting over him. She didn't understand why it was so hard for her, why it was taking so long. She didn't seem to appreciate what she had at the time.

She liked working at Macy's. Sure, she was just a sales associate, but it was refreshing. She felt valued. She felt she could make something of herself. Most days she worked in the Misses department but today was different. Everyone seemed to get shifted around because of people being out with the flu. Rebekah wound up on the third floor, menswear. She hated working on that floor. She hated seeing the men browsing for new jeans, dress shirts, underwear. She wasn't fond of helping them either. Today was no different.

It was just after lunch when things really went down hill. That's when he walked in. He brushed by her as she was folding cashmere sweaters. She threw her hair up over her shoulder and caught his eye just as he turned to offer an apology. Her stomach pushed into the bottom of her throat. She swallowed and returned to folding. She placed the soft blue sweater on the table and moved to the other side. She wanted to watch where he went. She couldn't believe he hadn't recognized her. Or maybe he had? No. No. He hadn't. He couldn't have. If he had, he would have talked to her. He would have stopped, not kept going. Right? Right. She folded another sweater.

He had moved to the business attire and was browsing the selection silk ties. He fingered each one, lifting it to the collar of his shirt and contemplating its appeal. The corner of his mouth tilted upwards as he considered his options. He carefully returned each one to the table and moved left to the dress shirts. She couldn't see him. A group of mannequins blocked her view.

Maybe it wasn't him. Maybe it was just a look-a-like. She needed a closer look. He continued to browse the dress shirts. This was her opportunity. She moved from the sweaters and walked directly towards him. She stepped next to him and spoke.

"Excuse me sir, would you like me to measure you?"

He didn't move. His eyes met hers. Brown. They were brown. It wasn't him. She was wrong. Once again, her mind played a game at her expense.

"Actually, if you could measure my neck. I've been working out a lot, I think I might need to start wearing a larger size."

She tried to focus. He was talking. She wasn't listening. She saw his mouth moving, but her mind was elsewhere. Blink. Blink, blink. She cleared her mind.

"I'm sorry, my mind was somewhere else. Yes or no to the measure?"

"Just the neck, please."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her tape measure. She unrolled it and stepped behind him.

"Like I said, been to the gym a lot, doing a lot of lifting. I think I might need a larger neck size."

"Maybe, let me see here. 17 inches. It'd be best to go with a 17 1/2 neck for you. You need the arm length?"

She hoped he didn't. She tried to ignore his paltry attempts to flirt. He didn't look like he'd been to the gym, ever. How did she confuse him with him. The more she looked at this creeper the more she realized how different he looked from Jake. Jake's eyes were blue, piercing blue. Jake was fit. Jake hadn't worn a tie in all the years she'd known him. She had to stop doing this to herself. She needed to move on.

"Miss, Miss."

"Sorry, yes Sir."

Her mind flashed back to the present.

"I said, 'I'm fine.' But are you OK?"

"Yes, sir, sorry, it's been a long day. Let me know if you need anything else."

She turned briskly and hurriedly walked to her counter. She kept her back turned and dropped her head. She rubbed her eyes and then her neck. She reached for the back of her ankle. She still wasn't comfortable wearing heels all day. What was she doing? She was never going to get over him. She wasn't. She needed to see him. Calling wasn't an option. He was never going to answer. He had moved on. But maybe seeing her would make a difference.

"I have to do it. I have to."

She spoke to herself with a confidence and conviction she hadn't felt since that day he left her on the shoulder of the road. Her mind seemed clearer. She held an optimism she didn't believe she could still muster. Her shift was almost over. It was decided. She was going to him. She was going to Dakota. She had no choice.

/ / /

Life for Janie and I was day to day. Some were better than others. Some were complete disasters. Janie's return had brought all the emotions back to the surface for me. It was like starting over again. Then there was Janie's story. I had yet to hear it. I don't know if she will ever tell me everything. And honestly, I don't know if I want to hear everything. I don't know if I can handle hearing what those monsters did to my little sister. It might just be better this way.

Financially, I was good for a while. But Janie, well, Janie came home because she ran out of money. She needed a job. I couldn't provide for us forever. I wasn't exactly working. The problem? Janie had never held a job for more than a few weeks. Wessington wasn't like the places she'd been. There weren't a lot of options. She couldn't just bail. But I was proud of her for trying.

As for her drinking, I pretended not to notice at first. I mean, we all have our vices. I have mine. I write. Yeah, it's a little less harmful, I know. But I didn't want her to think I was turning against her. I gave her some time. Unfortunately, I think it may have actually been getting worse with time. The empty bottles piled up in the plastic bin on the back porch. That Thursday when I walked the bin to the end of the lane, the clinking, clanking of the bottles spoke to me. I realized I needed to tell her. I needed to intervene. She couldn't just go on like this forever. Eventually, she would self destruct. It would be ugly. I had to make sure that didn't happen. She was still my little sister. But I had to wait until the time was right. I didn't want to push her away.

I walked back down the lane and started up the car. I needed a new snow shovel. I broke the other one shoveling out the front walk on Christmas morning. I had waited too long as it was. I needed to go now.

I was avoiding crowds. I wasn't interested in driving to the other side of town. I pulled into a spot along the curb and fed the meter. I ran into the hardware store, got my shovel and grabbed a newspaper on the way out the door. I needed some news. I had no idea what was going on in the world around me. I'd been locked up in my house in the woods for almost three weeks.

I put the shovel in the back seat and tossed the paper on the seat beside me. I was ready to sit by the fire with a hot cup of coffee and read the news. Janie would be at work for a few more hours. I pulled down the lane just as Sheriff Holt was returning to his truck. I shut the car off the moved swiftly to his window. My heart began to race. My breathing became labored.

"Sheriff. Is there news?"

"Hi Jake. Didn't think anyone was home. I was hoping to come in for a chat."

"Absolutely Sheriff. Are there new developments? Do you know who did it?"

"Let's just have a seat first, Jake."

"Yessir"

I didn't like his tone. Something was wrong. I opened the door and directed him in and to the armchair by the fire. I sat opposite him.

"What is it? What's happened? What's wrong?"

"Take a deep breath Jake. I'm gonna tell you."

"Sorry Sheriff. I just didn't expect to see you. It's been a while. I started to lose hope, give up."

"Well don't give up, I'm not going to, ever. I told you. I'm going to find the guy that did this. We'll get him. We will."

"I hope so. Jay deserves that much."

"Jake, I'm here because, well, I don't know if you've heard the news. Guessing by the fact that you haven't called me, you don't."

"News? I haven't heard anything. Today was the first I was out in three weeks. They don't plow this dirt road, it's the last road the county clears. The Christmas storm had me trapped for a while. I don't have reason to go out that much."

"Yeah. You're pretty isolated back here. Anyway, uh, I'm just gonna come right out with it. There's been another murder. It's related. It's the same guy."

"Who was it? You think this is just random. It's not random. This guy new my brother. He knew his target. Jay wouldn't have let a stranger in. He wouldn't have let someone get that close."

"I know that Jake. No, I don't think it was random. The victim also knew your brother. In fact, you knew him too. Bobby Murphy."

"Bobby? I don't understand. What's this guy after? Why's he doing this?"

"Those are questions we're trying to answer right now. I don't have much more I can share with you. But I did want to ask you if your brother had mentioned anything about people giving him trouble over what he had been writing for The Telegraph?"

"No. Like I told you before. My brother never said anything about any trouble. For all I knew, he was living a peaceful life up here in the woods. I didn't know anything. I don't think he knew anything either, Sheriff. I think the killer surprised him."

"I'm inclined to agree with you Jake. Also, it looks like your brother was not attacked in the house. Evidence is pointing towards his being transported here. They left him here for dead. Trouble is, you showed up. You scared them off before they could make sure he was dead."

"What about Bobby?"

"Same thing. They killed him somewhere else and then dumped him in the woods down by the dam. Some guy found him when he was out hunting, literally tripped over the body."

"What now?"

"Well, we're trying to determine a motive. The only thing I've got right now is the link between your brother and Murphy's store, the op-ed pieces. Maybe someone didn't like that Murphy's was being saved. I don't know. It doesn't make much sense. It's a stretch."

"Yeah that doesn't seem very likely."

"I'll keep at it. I'm telling ya, I won't let you down. I'm going to get justice for Jason Samuels. And for Robert Murphy."

"Thank you Sheriff. Keep me posted if anything comes up."

"'Course Mr. Samuels."

We rose from our places by the fire and moved towards the door.

Dakota (Ch 9)

I couldn't sleep. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I stumbled down the stairs, crawled into my haven beneath them and reached for my pen. I lacked coherence. But I wrote anyway. It wasn't important. It was just for me. I was onto my fourth or fifth page when I heard clatterings and rattlings coming from the kitchen. Janie. I found her, naked, on a step stool searching in a cupboard. She hadn't told me the full extent of her story yet, but I didn't really need the details after this encounter. Her body was covered in bruises, many old and still some fresh. I turned my head and called to her.

"Janie. What are you looking for?"

"Oh God, Jake. I'm sorry. I uh--"

"Janie its fine."

I reached around the corner and grabbed a blanket from the back of the chair. I tossed it to her.

"Here."

"Thanks."

"Now what are you doing?"

"I need caffeine. Something."

"Coffee?"

"It'll do."

"Are you alright? I mean, is everything okay."

"I'm fine. Just thirsty--and, bad dreams. They'll follow you anywhere. I can outrun the men but not the memories, I guess."

"I'm sorry Janie. I didn't realize how bad it was. Not til I saw--"

"Yeah well, I created it, enabled it, allowed it, endured it. I could've run a long time ago. I could've home a long time ago. I should've come home a long time ago. Maybe things would be different then."

"Don't tell yourself that. It'll just tear you apart, you can't."

"I know. But you can't help but wonder."

"Yeah, I know. Ten minutes might've made the difference for Jason. If that trooper hadn't stopped me about my tail light--"

"No, you're right. Don't. Don't do it to yourself. You can't. I can't. I have to accept that my circumstance is the result of my own action. I have to start taking responsibility. I need to grow up, change. This is my chance, right here, with you, to start over, to begin anew, fresh. Dakota might be my saving grace, Jake. This might be what saves my life."

"It looks like you've been close to the edge before. I'm not going to pretend to understand. I'm not going to ask why. I don't need to know. You don't need to feel obligated to share anything. You're the only family I have left. You're all I've got."

She looked down at the floor and curled her toes. She bit her bottom lip. Should she tell him? Could she trust him? Was this the right time? Would there ever be a right time? She raised her head.

"So, how 'bout that coffee."

/ / /

A week had passed and Lyle Holt was getting restless. He picked up the phone and called his investigator. He hoped there were answers.

"Donny Kahle, please."

The photos taunted him from his desk.

"Kahle. Please tell me you can tell me something. Anything."

"What I've got right now is promising. I was about to call you."

"Let's hear it."

"Brace yourself Sheriff. You're about to have media frenzy on your hands."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your John Doe is Robert Murphy IV. Robert Murphy, Bobby, owns Murphy's General."

"Dammit Kahle. I know who he is. He dated my baby sister through high school. I haven't seen him in years, never recognized him. If he's been dead over a week, why no missing persons report?"

"Apparently his wife and kids went to Boise to visit her family for the holidays. He had to say behind 'cause of the store. I haven't notified them yet."

"Good. I'll make the call. You got more for me than an ID I hope."

Holt shifted in his seat. He wrote the name Robert Murphy on his pad next to Jason Samuels. He drew a line between them with a question mark. He knew they were around the same age. He spun his chair around and grabbed an old newspaper off the top of the filing cabinet. He remembered. Samuels had written some pieces for the paper. They were about Murphy's. That's one connection. But that didn't really make sense. There had to be more.

"Kahle. C'mon. Wow me."

"Well there were no shells found at either scene. I can't match a specific weapon. To me, they were done by the same gun, but I can't make that stick. Not with what I've got."

"So?"

"So, I looked at some other things about the cases. The knives, for instance. Manufactured in China. They are only sold at large chain retailers. In Wessington, Walmart's the only place to find them."

"Huh."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just coincidence probably. I mean how many people shop there?"

"Still, what's your thought?"

"Well, Murphy's was struggling. Samuels spawned a grassroots effort to save the store by writing op-ed pieces in The Telegraph. Just interesting that the knives should come from the store that was driving him under."

"Huh. Yeah. Might be something. Might be nothing. I'd keep it in the back of your mind. But I've got more."

"Good. That's why we pay ya."

"Well I deliver Holt, you know that."

"Alright smartass."

"Anyway, I went back out and looked at how our guy could have accessed the drop site at the dam. I mean he, or more likely they, couldn't have lugged that body far through the woods without leaving some sort of a trail. Murphy wasn't huge but he wasn't exactly a lightweight. I found some unusual fibers in his hair and on his clothes, double-checked myself and found the same ones on Samuels. Looks like they were most likely wrapped up in some sort of rug to transport."

"But Samuels' brother found his brother. He was still breathing."

"Maybe he showed up during the drop. Spooked 'em."

"Why would they drop him before he was dead.?"

"Don't know. All I know is there is a piece of rug out there that has blood on it. Murphy's blood and Samuels' blood. Find that rug and you find your killer. And I can match the fibers, even if they cleaned it, not that it's likely they could get all that blood out anyway."

"Well it's something to run with. I mean I get how they could have run. But how did they get him Samuels there? They had to have a vehicle, a van, a truck."

"Yeah, Lyle, I almost forgot. I said I went back out to the dam--"

"What'd you turn up?"

"Well there's an access road for maintenance purposes, runs right up to the dam, its dirt, but its there. Anyway, I called to find out when was the last time someone was out there for an inspection, maintenance, anything."

"And?"

"Dakota Hydro said not since early in the fall, September maybe, at the latest. The gate to the road had been bumped open, well gently rammed. I was able to pull a small sample of paint off it. Black. I might be able to match it for a trial. But if nothing else, you've got a color to go with your phantom machine."

"Yeah. Thanks Kahle. You're right. You do always bring the goods."

"Ha, yeah Lyle. I know what I'm doing. Only been doing it for twenty-three years. I've learned a thing or two along the way."

"Well, 'n case I didn't say it recently, I appreciate it Donny."

"I know you do Lyle. And hey, don't worry. You'll get this guy."

"I hope. People are looking for answers. Alright I gotta go. I gotta notify Murphy's family. Oh, Kahle--"

"Yeah Lyle?"

"I'm trusting none of this is gonna show up in morning paper."

"Of course not. We all make mistakes Lyle Holt, even you Sheriff. I learned my lesson."

"Good to hear."

"I'll keep you posted should anything else come up."

"Thanks Kahle."

"Glad to help. Just get the guy."

"That's my aim."

He returned the receiver to its cradle. It was more than he expected. He needed to the number for Murphy's wife in Boise. What would he say?

'Merry Christmas Mrs. Murphy. Your husband has been murdered. And a Happy New Year to you as well.'

Dakota (Ch 8)

Janie kept her composure for all of five minutes. She disintegrated into a mess of tears, sobs, and sniffles. She had built a stern facade, but it crumbled quickly. And I mean crumbled. I stopped after every other sentence for her reassurance that she wanted me to continue. I expected this to be tough on her, but after seeing the demeanor with which she now carried herself, I did not expect a reaction of this magnitude. She still had a heart. She still had hope.

I held nothing back. I didn't sugar-coat the story. It was only fair. Yeah, the truth hurts. Janie knew that, though. I recounted Jason's return to the Dakota Woods, Dad's rapid decline and eventual death. I stressed the notion that he didn't even remember how many kids he had by the end. He didn't know Janie was gone. He didn't know that I didn't bother coming home at his demise. He didn't know. Still, I felt my own guilt building given the circumstance. I knew Janie felt it ten fold.

Here, the story shifted. Janie continued to listen, in shambles. She had not regained any composure. She needed to know what brought me back too. She was sobering up. The tears were starting to dry. I bared my soul to her--but I remained apprehensive about what I was about to share.

"Janie."

Her hands were folded neatly in her lap. I reached out and wrapped my hands over hers. I looked into her eyes. She immediately knew that what was to follow was much worse than what she had already been told. She inhaled deeply and swallowed hard. Blink.

"Jake. Whatever it is. You need to tell me. I'm ready. I can handle it. What happened to Jason?"

I broke her gaze and stared into the fire. The flicker of red and yellow took me back to that night. My first night in Dakota. The night Jason met his end. I squeezed her hands tighter. I felt the tears welling up in me. I shifter in my chair, pulling closer to her. And then in one simple sentence. I said it.

"Jason was murdered."

The words stung as they scraped between my lips and pushed their way out into the space between us. I sat, unmoving as they floated through the air and fell on Janie like a ton of bricks. If I thought she had crumbled before, I couldn't describe her existence now. I waited in silence. The gravity of the situation needed a few moments. I wanted her to have a chance to realize what those words meant.

I watched as what was left of her being began to fall apart. I pulled her close to me and held her tight, like a child. I don't know how long we sat like that. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Time seemed stagnant. In that moment, it was just her and I. Brother and sister--as she realized that I was now all she had left in this world, and as I began to accept the same notion.

She was first to break the embrace--and the silence.

"Tell me the story. I need to hear it. I need to know it all. Everything you know."

"Janie, are you sure that now is the time--"

"Yes, Jake, I need to know. He was my brother. I need to know."

"Alright. I can only tell you what I know, which unfortunately, isn't all that much. But I can tell you that I was here. Well, I was on my way here. But he wasn't alone. Jay wasn't alone--he died in my arms."

She braced herself. I saw the semblance of a wall being rebuilt.

"As I said, I had left Rebekah and was driving home to Dakota..."

/ / /

Sheriff Holt approached the area with hesitance. He knew there was a dead body on the ground just east of the dam head. He knew as much as Marcus Bingham had shared with him. The corpse looked like it had been dropped. It wasn't natural. The body had been staged there. Holt observed the wounds on the torso and immediately drew a conclusion. Shotgun. Close range. Perhaps the most startling discovery he made at the dam rested in the deceased's left hand. A knife. If the body had been dumped in the Dakota Woods, the knife had been specifically placed there. But why? Was the same person responsible for this murder and that of Jason Samuels?

Holt leaned against a tree and analyzed his two cases while the crimes scene was cordoned off. The deaths were clearly related. Questions spewed from his mind like vomit from a drunk. He wrote quickly, intently. Who was John Doe? Why was his body dumped, staged? Why here? Was Jason Samuels' body staged as well? Why were they killed? Could this be random? Could there be more targets? Could this be a copy-cat? What had been shared about the original crime scene? What should he tell Jake Samuels? He had no answers.

This was quiet country. This wasn't typical. He had two dead bodies in three months. That's more than he'd seen in the past three years.

"Lyle. Lyle."

"Yeah, what is it Kahle?"

"Sheriff we need you over here."

"What've you got for me. I need some answers boys. I need answers real bad."

"As I'm sure you've already guessed, 2 rounds from a shotgun, close range. No shells. The body was placed here, pretty neatly too. There's little disturbance to the underbrush and leaves. Couldn't have been brought here by one person. Not like this."

"I need something to go on. I already know all this. I can see that for myself. Tell me you've got something more."

"Calm down Lyle. There's more. 'Course we got more. From my recollection, the knife is the same brand as the one found in Jason Samuels left hand. I don't remember sharing that there was a knife, and I sure as hell know that we never disclosed a brand name."

"Alright good. I'll track down where they're sold locally."

"One distinct difference here though, doesn't appear to be any broken bones here. Samuels had a broken right leg. But that was probably caused during a struggle. He definitely fought back. Somehow the killer still got off two round of the shotgun at close range though. This one here. No struggle. None apparent anyway. My feeling is they both knew their killer."

"Any idea on an ID? I haven't seen any missing persons reports. At least not in this county."

"No. No ID, no wallet, no tattoos, no distinguishable features. We'll have to run the prints--and dental if we need too."

"That all?"

"Yeah, for now. I'll know more once I get him to a lab. I don't know how soon that will be. We don't have the capacity for this type of thing here."

"Well make it happen. I can't have this dragging on. I need answers. I need to know what kind of threat we've got on our hands. This creep is still out there. I don't like that, Kahle, not one bit."

"Sheriff, I'll do my best. But I just don't know. I don't think there's gonna be hell of a lot more on this one."

"Find it. Whatever it takes. I need something. I'm leaning on you for this, Kahle. Just get it done."

"Yessir."

Dakota (Ch 7)

She reached for the phone. No. She shouldn't do it. She couldn't do it. She wouldn't do it. She wasn't going to make that call. No. Blink. She pulled her hand back and turned back to the window. She had barely moved in the past eight weeks. She had planted herself in that spot on the sofa. She wasn't moving. She was waiting, just waiting. Time passed. Nothing changed. She sat, waiting.

Her mother tried to encourage her, inspire her but in time it turned to a repeated chatisement.

"Get off the damn sofa, Beka. Get up and do something. Get a job. He's not going to call. He's not coming back."

She never responded. Her mother's nagging tone only cued the her to allow her eyes to glaze over. She stared at the window, not beyond it, just stared at the twelve panes of glass that separated her from the world. She wanted to make a change, do something. But she just couldn't. She didn't know where to go from here. Her life as an adult did not exist apart from him. He was all she knew. She had depended on him. She needed him. Maybe she should call him. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe he would answer. Maybe things could change.

She reached for the phone and dialed before allowing herself to doubt the irrationalities that floated about her head. She heard it ringing. She waited. She heard the familiar sound of his voice. She missed that voice. She missed hearing it as he whispered to her in bed. She missed hearing it as he called out, 'Goodbye, hun, love you,' on his way out the door each morning. She missed hearing in as he called, 'Just to talk,' on his lunch break. Beep.

"Um, hey Jake, it's me. Just wanted to see how you were--I miss you. I'm sorry--"

She hung up. She had expended her energy for the day. Her head fell back on the cushion behind her head. Her eyes closed.

/ / /

The investigation was not going well. Many unanswered questions remained. The autopsy and medical investigation didn't turn up much new information. The crime scene unit was not able to gather much from the house, or the woods for that matter. There was little left undisturbed. There was nothing missing. They found nothing in Jason's background or personal items to indicate that he had any real enemies. Essentially, Holt and his team had nothing. Nothing more than a dead body and a weapon that may or may not have been used in self-defense. No one had turned up at local hospitals in need of treatment from knife wounds. The killer was seemingly a ghost, a phantom of the night.

Sheriff Holt sat at his desk. He rubbed his eyes and leaned back. Reaching into the drawer at his right he pulled out a file. It had been a slow day. He flipped open the cover of the folder, there before him were the photos. Jason Samuels dead body lay covered in blood on the floor of his kitchen. The knife lay in the palm of his open hand, one leg bent back, broken, the medical examiner had determined.

There was a shot of the kitchen. Nothing seemed to be disturbed, missing. The back door, still secured, locked. The photos of the woods had been taken the next day, in the day light. Nothing was extraordinary. It was the woods. There were leaves, trees, limbs.

"Sheriff--"

Blink. He rubbed his eyes again, took a deep breath and stretched his arms out to the side.

"Yeah Marge."

"Sheriff, I've a man here to see you."

"Alright, well don't keep 'im, send 'im back."

"Yessir."

He closed the file and returned it to its place in the drawer. He pulled out his pad and pencil.

"Sheriff this is Mr. Bingham. Says he found something. Says he needs to take you and the boys to see it."

"Alright, thank you Marge. I'll let the man speak for 'imself."

"Yessir. Sorry sir."

Marge dropped her head and swiveled on her heals turning back to her desk at the front of the office.

"Have a seat Mr. Bingham. What's this about now? What've you found?"

"Well, er, uh, Mista I is down at da dam. Minin' my business, waiting on this ere buck to get up from 'is rest in da brambles. Waiting. Ya know, crouchin' about real quiet like. Well then I did tripped on and let off a round of my rifle. Didn't hit nothin' but done did sceared me. Nearly pissed myself. I pulled myself up on a limb, lookin' down at my feet. There he was."

"He?"

"Yeah, this ere dead guy layin in the leaves, barely covered over. Couldnta been there too long, anemals ould got 'im. That's when I a'mos messed my drawers--"

"You remember specifically where this was? You can take me there?"

Sheriff Holt stood reaching for his coat.

"Yep, I done remember."

/ / /

I trembled in a heap on the steps. Janie dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around me.

"Jake, oh Jake, I'm sorry. Jake I had no idea. I didn't know. It's alright. It'll be alright. I'm here Jake. I'm here for you now. I'm sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry--"

"You couldn't have stopped it. You couldn't have changed things. It's just the way things are."

"Let me help you up. C'mon let's go inside. I want to hear the story. C'mon."

She put her arms under his shoulders and heaved.

"C'mon, Jake. Get up. I'm sorry I pushed you. I should have listened to you."

"You didn't know. It's not your fault. You couldn't have known. You weren't here."

"I know Jake. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't here. But I'm here now. So let's go in and you can tell me what happened."

He leaned on her as they trudged to the door. She took the bags to the kitchen and he slumped into the chair by the fire. He was in that place again. He sat and recounted the night in his mind. He had to tell her.

She took her place in the chair opposite him.

"Ok, let's have it then Jake."

"Let me start with mom. I'll work my way to what brought me here, to where we're at now."

"Take your time. It's alright. I'm right here."

Dakota (Ch 6)

My initial thought couldn't have been more wrong. Janie hadn't heard the news. She didn't know that Jason had been brutally murdered. And from what she had said so far, I don't think she even knew that Mom or Dad had died. I was about to tell her that most of her family was dead. I was all she had left. She was all I had left.

Why was she back in Wessington? Something must have brought her back. Something brought her home.

Murphy's was inundated with last minutes shoppers. It was expected. Christmas was a day away, the impending snowstorm, and the grassroots movement to save the store. It had been all over the papers in the past weeks. Murphy's was the essence of Wessington. In fact, it was in existence before the town was even founded, before a single home was built. In 1873, Murphy's was established as a trading post on the road that led west into Montana. In time it evolved into a market and general store. It was the core of Wessington's economy for decades. Then came the age of the low cost superstore. Walmart. People were wooed with cheap promises. That was until, the news of Murphy's financial troubles hit the Western Dakota Telegraph. Jason grew up with Robert Murphy IV. They had remained friends even after Jason moved to Chicago. When Jason learned that Bobby, who now ran the store, was feeling the pinch from Walmart, he took action. He started writing op-ed pieces for the paper. At first he urged people to support the store because it was the reason the town existed at all. But it transformed into a dialogue between people all over the county, each and everyone with story to tell about Murphy's, and a reason to save the store. It didn't happen overnight. But as the days turned into months, Murphy's saw customers come back. Customers who were willing to pay more for the same goods. For Murphy's.

I shared their nostalgia. Murphy's was Wessington. And Wessington wasn't home without Murphy's. I made my loop through the store, leaving out some things, adding others, given the turn of events that had transpired. I just wanted to get home. I wanted to talk to my sister. I had to tell her the horrible news.

The line at lane 5 was long. But it was the shortest line. There was no express at Murphy's. And everyone knew everyone. Checkout was a social event. Given the holiday, it was even moreso. I leaned on the cart, tapped my foot. My eyes wandered. I saw Janie's truck parked next to my car. I could barely make out her shadow as she sat and waited. But without a doubt, I saw the bottle. She was anyone but the kid I remembered. A few flakes began to whip through the brisk air. I stepped forward, one customer close to the exit. The minutes crawled by.

/ / /

"What's taking him so damn long. I can't just sit here all day."

She pressed the bottle to her lips and threw her head back.

"I'm losing it. I'm losing it, here. Dammit Jake hurry up!"

Her fingers tapped the wheel. Her legs trembled. A twinge ran up her spine. She couldn't just sit and wait. What was taking so long. It was getting harder to see the door of the store across the parking lot. The snow was heavier now. She tried to calm herself. Another swig pacified her for a few moments. Then another.

"Janie, what's your problem? Act like a normal person. Push your issues aside. Pull yourself together for God's sake."

She slapped herself, first gently then harder. She pulled the visor down and stared back at her reflection. She looked into her past. She slapped herself again. She saw them all. The men who had hit her, beat her. She had tried to forget. Blink. Now that the memories had surfaced, she couldn't suppress them. She wanted to. She tried. But she could only see their faces. She tried to look away. She covered her eyes. They just stared back at her. All of them. They were all there, staring, judging. She knew what she had done. But she didn't deserve what she got. She had immersed herself in a lifestyle that led to one abusive relationship after another. If you could call them relationships. It was the life she knew. One face in particular was especially familiar. She looked back at the exit of Murphy's.

"I don't think Jake even knows. I never told him. I never told anyone."

Her only reprieve from the peering eyes of her past was the bottle. As she pulled the bottle from her mouth, tequila ran down her chin. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her flannel shirt.

"Ah. There's no glory in drinking away your problems. But it feels good going down."

She reached behind her seat, searching. She felt the cold steel. It was still there. She picked it up somewhere between L.A. and the border. Lifted it from a trucker after he'd passed out from too much weed and booze. She'd slipped out of the cab while he slept off his indiscretion. It was luckily she did too. It proved to be her savior, more than once. No one argues with a shotgun. No one. And when the carrier knows how to shoot. Well, there wasn't the faintest hint of a protest. She got what she wanted. Or she shot. And she didn't miss. Just ask, the silence of her victims was proof enough.

She just needed to feel that it was still there.

"Just checking. I can't do this without you."

/ / /

I took my receipt, pushed my cart to the door, grabbed the bags and practically ran to the the car. It had been too long. I should have skipped the store. I should have just taken Janie home. I put the bags on the back seat and leaned down to Janie's window.

"Alright. I know that took forever. I'm sorry. It was crazy in there and of course, no one was in a hurry."

"It's okay. Let's just go."

"So just follow me. It'll seem like forever. It did the first time I drove into town."

I turned and hopped in the car. The snow was still falling. I cleared the windshield with the wipers. Still pretty wet. I pulled back onto North Avenue and then onto Main Street. It still felt like such a long drive to the house. I didn't remember that from growing up. Not a minute went by that I didn't check my mirror. She was still back there. I didn't want to lose her.

We pulled down the gravel road and then the lane. It was mostly dirt now. I drifted past the house and stopped under the cover of some pines. Janie turned and drove in front of the house. I could see her as she gazed at the home she once knew, coming to a stop in front of the collapsing garage where she had begun her journey for years earlier.

This is where it got hard. How was I supposed to tell her that her family was dead? 'Oh yeah Janie, by the way, everyone else died while you were gone. So what have you been up to.' She was going to know. She was going to know the minute she opened that door. She'd see that no one was there. She'd wonder why I was here. She would know. But I'd have to explain. She'd have questions.

I made my way up the walk, fumbling with the bags, searching for the right key. She crossed from the opposite side of the drive, her head cocked, eyes squinted.

"This place is falling apart. It's only been four years. It didn't look like this when I left. I know that much."

"Yeah, well a lot can happen in four years. I have a hell of a lot to tell you Janie. Let's just get inside, get the groceries away and I'll tell you the whole story. What I know anyway."

"Where's Mom? Dad? Isn't anyone else here?"

"I'll tell you the whole story. But not like this. We need to sit. You need to sit."

"Jake, I can handle whatever the hell happened up here. Trust me. I told you, I've got a story of my own, alright."

"No. Not yet. Just get inside."

"Stop being so flipping dramatic."

"Janie, please. Listen--"

"No Jake, you listen! Just tell me where everyone is at. I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

"I don't want to do it this way."

"Jake, c'mon"

She pushed me too far. The emotions of that night were still fresh in my mind, right at the surface. I had myself fooled. I wasn't over it. I'd never be over it. But this was too much. I couldn't take the pushing. It reminded me of Rebekah. That only made it worse.

"YOUR FAMILY IS DEAD!"

Janie didn't move. There was no reaction. I lurched forward as if I had just been stabbed. I collapsed into a pile of plastic bags, fallen leaves, and fresh snow. And I felt. The body was in front of me again. I was ten minutes late.

Dakota (Ch 5)

Seattle was nice. San Fransisco was okay. Los Angeles was dreadful. Tijuana was an experience. A pretty awesome experience. From there the journey got fuzzy. Perhaps it was the tequila. Or the marijuana. Memories were like floating feathers in her mind. They never quite rested on a solid surface. They left no lasting impression. They alighted for a moment, a flicker, an instant, and the flash of coherence was gone. She only knew that her truck had taken her there. And she knew now that it had brought her back. She didn't want to be here again. She hated Dakota. She had waited until that piece of plastic freedom was in her hand. Then she ran. She ran. Her dad's truck sat dormant in the garage. Used only on occassion throughout the woods, moving firewood, hauling trash, but then it was hers. She gripped the wheel, pressed the gas, and never looked back. Until now. She had no choice. The money was gone. The men. There were a lot of men. She gave herself to them for a dollar, a meal, a place to stay. But it was better then Dakota. In her eyes, it was.

She was the baby. She came along much later than Jason and Jake. Janie always rebelled. She never followed the rules. At eight, she dyed her hair pink and pierced her own eyebrow. That was the year that Jay had moved to Chicago. Jake followed. She was stuck. She lost it. That's what they said. Her parents, they were afraid. They didn't know what to do. She liked playing the part. She wanted to alienate herself. It wasn't difficult in Wessington. But her parents loved her.

That spring day. It was unseasonably warm. Warm for Dakota. She remembered not needing a jacket. She remembered how many steps it took her to get to the side of the truck. She remembered where her mom was. She remembered hearing the sound of the chainsaw coming from behind the house. Dad was clearing a fallen tree. It had come down during a winter storm. It lay covered in snow for months. She grabbed her bag. She grabbed her keys. She got in the truck and said goodbye to Dakota. It was a final goodbye. She never intended to come back.

Four years. It had only been four years. And here she was. Wessington. She cringed when she drove past the sign. She didn't feel welcomed.

"I hope it's not just Mom and Dad."

She glanced in the mirror, rubbed her lips together, the shine spread from top to bottom. She was different. She wasn't the scared girl that had run. She knew what men wanted. She had given it to them. The only evidence that remained of who she was was the piercing over her left eye, and the same dirty red truck that had taken her over thousands of miles.

"I hope Jay and Jake are home again. I hope they are done with Chicago--but they had jobs. They did it right. They got out of here. I've gotta face this. They'll all just be happy I'm home. It's OK. I need a drink."

She longed for the bottle. Was there still one under the seat. She held the wheel in one hand and searched desperately. Whiskey. Empty. She reached further, completely ignoring the road in front of her. Gin. Empty. There was more. If she could reach. She strained, looked up for a minute. She jerked the wheel back to the left, swerving out of the gravel, avoiding the pines approaching with rapid speed, and returned to the pavement. She kept reaching. She felt the narrow top of the bottle. She had it between her fingers. But she just couldn't quite, she couldn't quite--there. Got it. Tequila.

"Hello, my friend."

She drank liberally.

"You see, Mexico is good for something."

She took another swig from the bottle. Replaced the cap and tossed it on the seat beside her. Now she was ready. Now she could do this.

It had been so long. She didn't quite remember anything about Wessington. Again, floating feathers. She grasped at them without success. She wanted to remember. For the first time. Pain made her cringe. She flicked on her signal and pulled into a parking lot, into a space and left the truck running. Her head fell to the wheel. She rubbed her neck. Deep breath. Deep breath.

"I'm almost there."

A tap resounded on the glass at her left. She sat up abruptly, turning to look out the window. It took a moment. It wasn't instantaneous. But then a single feather came to rest.

"Jake!"

She screamed, throwing her arms around him. She hugged him. She didn't want to let go.

"Janie. Janie, what are you doing here? I'm so glad to see you. I mean recognized the truck. I knew. I knew it was you. I'm so glad that you've finally come home."

"Jake. I've missed you. I missed you the most. You're the only one I really missed. How long have you been back in Wessington?"

"Why don't we do this at home. I'd much rather talk about this in front of a warm fire. It'll be snowing soon. I need to grab a few things at the store, in case it turns to something more, but I'm so glad to have you back for Christmas! Follow me over to Murphy's. I'll run in and then you can follow me home."

"Alright. Thanks. To be honest, I don't really remember how to get there."

"You don't remember Wessington, where we lived."

Over her shoulder I saw the bottle on the seat. I understood.

"Um, well, Jake--I've got a story to tell too."

"Save it. Just follow me. I've missed you!"

She dropped her head. Half of a smile crept across her face. She kicked at a stone at her feet. I put my hand on her shoulder. Lifted her chin with the other.

"Janie. We've all made mistakes. We all have a past. There are things we remember. Things we forget. And things we wish we could. You'll always be my little sister."

"Jake--"

"Just follow me, Janie."