“I think you were right,” Kate said.
“Most people would be pleased at that kind of acknowledgement, but I’ve often found that being right is pretty painful,” I said, already looking back at Wilson’s schedule.
“Well, that might be the case here, too. So I found something, carved, er painted, or I don’t know, but the rock here is marked.”
I looked back at my screen, and she focused her camera on the bedrock. “Can you see it?”
I squinted at it. “Looks a little like a pinwheel, or a vortex, or something.”
“That’s what I thought. I can kind of feel something from it.”
“Pressure, and then not. It’s not constant. Makes me think of the wind.”
“Well, that’s it, then.”
“The dingus, the whatsit, the thing.”
I looked back down at Wilson’s schedule. “Yup.”
“So you know what this is?” Her voice got louder from pointing the camera back at herself. “You can fix Reilly and Jack.”
Peripheral vision caught her smile of relief.
Really hate to kill that. She’s going to be mad at me.
“Nope? What the fuck do you mean nope? If you can identify it, you should know what it is!”
“Not a clue. I’m not an encyclopedia of everything supernatural.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“Nope. I don’t know what it is, but I know who it belongs to. It’s Sioux.”
“Sue? Who is Sue?”
“Not Sue as in short for Susan. Sioux as in the Native American nations. You’re in South Dakota. That’s their land you’re in.”
“The Sioux Nation?”
“Yup. Well, reasonable guess. There are other tribes in the area, but they’re the biggest. So what you want to do is go talk to some members of the tribe. Chances are that symbol belongs to a weather spirit or something. Probably sacred ground, and knowing Storm Riders, Reilly probably offended something. There’s probably a ritual, maybe an apology. But that’s the move. Talk to the Sioux. There. I’ve earned my fee.”
I disconnected the call and went back to the Wilson schedule.
There it is, racquetball, Wednesday night.