Chapter 12
Jackie
2 weeks later
S ince I got home from Rapid City, I’d kept myself busy. There were hundreds of square miles to cover in the reservation, and ten days ago, after ducking phone calls and messages from Jagger, Cheyenne, and Granny, I decided I needed some peace and quiet to settle my mind.
Jagger had been typing these long messages. I never read them, but I didn’t delete them either. If I was going to stick to my resolve, I couldn’t listen to his explanations, but each new message was harder to ignore. Finally, I’d had enough from everyone, so I packed my car with a sleeping bag, food and water, some extra blankets for the colder nights, and my camera. After sending Cheyenne a message and letting Granny and my father know I was going into the back country, I got in my car and began to drive with no destination in mind.
I’d stopped in every little town, made sure to ask about issues in the area, and visited countless families who were slipping through the cracks. I wasn’t talking small cracks, but Grand Canyon sized cracks. Some households survived without running water and had to get their supply from a community well. Other houses had no plumbing and still used an outhouse. And there were some that didn’t have any food, relying on the generosity of others.
But I also saw houses that were nice and well maintained, with families that were flourishing, and it was the difference between the two that I wanted to showcase. I always made sure to speak with my father about what I saw, and he tried to divert resources to that area if it was within our borders. If it was another tribe, he spoke with their council. There were just too many who needed help and not enough to go around.
And I knew that was the way it was for every state in the country, but seeing my people struggling so hard made my heart heavy.
When I heard there was a big snowstorm moving into the area overnight and into the morning, I packed up my car and headed back to my house. My car did fine when the weather cooperated, but snow and ice would put me in a ditch, and possibly a grave. Once I got back into cell range, my phone chimed for close to fifteen seconds with all the missed messages.
I knew I couldn’t hide from my pain forever, and after the last ten days of witnessing people hurting worse than I could imagine, my broken heart seemed small in comparison. And more time had passed since that morning at the ranch than we were together to begin with, so it stood to reason that I was over him.
Deep down, I knew I really wasn’t, but on the surface, I looked like I was back to my old self.
Turning into my driveway, I saw something sitting on my front porch, and after parking and gathering my stuff, I walked up the steps. There was a box, and I looked to see who it was from as I unlocked the front door and tossed my stuff inside. Grabbing it from the porch, I carried it inside and took it to the kitchen before closing the front door and securing the locks.
It was then I noticed the first flakes of snow beginning to fall. There were still hours before the worst got here, but it looked like a dusting was about to happen.
“I timed that pretty good,” I said to the house as I carried my small backpack into the laundry room.
Dumping the dirty clothes from inside, I started the washer before going back to the kitchen. I glanced at the box as I started a cup of coffee, and when it was finished, I took a seat at the island and stared at it.
Something about it was off, but I didn’t know what it was. It was heavier than it looked like it should be, and there was a faint odor coming from it that wasn’t bad, nor was it good. Without any sender information or even a postmark, I began to wonder who it was from and what it could be.
My phone rang, and I picked it up to see Cheyenne calling. Exhaling, I plastered a smile on my face as I answered.
“Hello, cousin. How are you?”
“I’m worried about you, but that’s beside the point. Are you back at your house, or are you still in the back country?” she inquired.
“I got home fifteen minutes ago, but you beat me to letting you know I was home,” I returned, then asked, “Is everything okay?”
She sighed, and I heard a door close before she spoke again. “I think they have a lead on Blur, and Trent is worried he’s going to try and come after me again. I don’t think he’s that stupid, but what do I know?”
“You need to make sure you have a weapon on you until they catch him,” I reasoned and took a swallow of coffee. “Have you ever heard of a package being delivered without a sender, or even the shipping company.”
“No. Why?”
Maybe I was being paranoid, but the package was bothering me, so I explained. “When I got home, there was a box on the porch. It’s . . . heavier than it seems like it should be, and there isn’t any information on the sender or who delivered it.”
“What does it look like?” she asked.
“A foot, maybe eighteen inches square, standard brown box. All seams are wrapped in thick tape, and it has a weird odor,” I tacked on, realizing it was getting a little stronger since I brought it inside.
“Hold on for a minute,” she said, and I shrugged as I took a swallow of coffee. She came back, and I heard another voice in the background. Recognizing it was Trent, I exhaled the instant nervousness that overtook me, thinking she was putting Jagger on the phone. “Jackie, tell Trent what you just told me.”
I repeated the details, and when I was finished, Trent asked, “Can you send Cheyenne a picture of it?”
“Yep,” I remarked and put the phone on speaker while I opened the camera, took a couple pictures, and sent them to her in a text message. “Sent.”
A moment later, he said, “Open her message, please, babe.”
I could hear them speaking lower, and when Trent finally spoke, I grew a little more worried. “Don’t open the box, and if possible, take it back to your front porch. I’m going to head up that way and take a look.”
“That’s not necessary,” I reasoned and said, “I’ll just open it and let you know what’s inside.”
“No,” Trent yelled, and I dropped the phone from his sudden outburst. I couldn’t hear what he was saying until I grabbed the phone from the floor. “... any problems.”
“Repeat everything after you yelled at me.”
“I said not to open it until one of us can get up there. We’ve been hunting Blur across the country and the last sighting was in Sioux Falls a few days ago. I wouldn’t put it past him to harass the ladies of the club, and I don’t want you to have any problems.”
“There isn’t a problem. I’m not a lady of the club, and there’s no way he knows who I am,” I replied as I stood from my seat and grabbed a sharp knife from the block. “So, unless you have something better than a possibility, I’m going to save you the drive and gas money and open it now.”
“Please, little warrior, don’t open it without us,” I heard Jagger say, and a knot formed in my throat at his use of my pet name.
Gripping the knife harder, I closed my eyes and simply said, “Low blow, guys.”
Reaching over, I disconnected the call and stared at the ominous box sitting on my kitchen island. When I looked closely at the taped seams, I saw something seeping at the edges. Realizing something was deeply wrong here, I picked up the box and carried it to the front door. Balancing it on my leg, I unlocked the door and set the box out under the overhang on the front porch before quickly glancing around and walking back inside.
I locked the door and kept the knife in my hand as I returned to the kitchen. The faint smell was gone, but there was something on the counter, so when I grabbed a paper towel and wiped the spot, I nearly threw up when I saw what was on it.
Blood. It looked to be a small spot, but instantly, tremors took over my body. On instinct, I dialed Cheyenne’s number again and put the phone on speaker as I began to check the house, making sure every window and door was locked and secured.
“Why did you hang up?” she asked.
“Cheyenne, Trent was right, and I need help.”
The sound of shuffling came through the phone, and it was Jagger who began to speak. “Tell me what’s going on, darlin’.”
“The box is bleeding,” I whispered as I continued to walk through my house, opening closets and checking under beds.
“I’m on my way, baby. Lock yourself inside and don’t open the door for anyone but a Sinner,” Jagger instructed.
“O-o-okay,” I returned.
“I’m on my way, baby.”
The call disconnected, and I shoved the phone into my back pocket as I walked back into the kitchen. There was only one room left to inspect, and it was the basement. This far north, basements were almost required to survive the winter, but after turning the light on and carefully walking down the stairs, I realized I was being crazy.
There were no windows or doors down here, and after checking every corner, I walked back upstairs, securing the door behind me. It was usually a three-and-a-half-hour or so drive from the ranch to my house, but an hour later, my phone beeped with a message from Jagger saying they were an hour and a half out from my house.
That meant they were practically flying down the road, and I worried someone was going to get hurt. And what if I was wrong and it wasn’t blood? But what else could it be?
I typed out a message to Cheyenne.
Me: Should I be worried?
A minute later, the phone rang, and I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hey. If you’re secure in your house, I don’t think worrying will help,” Cheyenne said.
“What if I’m wrong and it’s a jar of jelly that busted? They’re going to drive all the way up here for nothing,” I reasoned.
“Your instincts aren’t wrong. You said something was off about it, and if you think it was blood, then it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“I’m sorry to drag Trent away from you.”
“Trent’s here with me. Jagger is on the way, and I think Animal is coming down from his friends house in North Dakota, so he may get there faster than Jagger.”
“Why . . . I don’t understand why he’s coming alone.”
“I think he wants to be able to apologize and make sure you’re okay. If someone sent you a bleeding box, then you’re not safe up there until they can figure out who and why. So, if he says you need to come back here to Rapid, please don’t fight him.” She choked up as she added, “I wouldn’t survive if something happened to you.”
Being independent is all I’ve ever known, but if Jagger thought I was in danger, then I’d follow whatever he suggested. After Cheyenne was kidnapped last year, I saw how much it affected her life and I became more cautious too.
The sound of a motorcycle echoed into the kitchen, and I stood from my seat and walked to the front window. A blacked-out bike was parked behind my car, and I recognized Animal.
“Animal’s here, so I guess we’ll know soon enough,” I remarked. “I’ll have them call you after . . .”
“Be safe, Jackie.”
“I’ll try,” I returned and disconnected the call as I walked toward the front door.
A knock sounded into the living room, and I asked, “Who is it?”
“Jackie, it’s Animal. Jagger asked me to wait with you until he gets here.”
I opened the door, and he looked down at the box sitting to the side. There was a small line of red outlining it, and as he stepped into the house, he closed and locked the door behind him.
I guessed we were waiting for Jagger to arrive before inspecting the box. And the more minutes that ticked by while Animal and I had coffee in the kitchen, the more nervous I became. A part of me knew that once I saw him and he began his apologies, I was going to fold like a cheap suit and forgive him.
And that terrified me more than the bloody box outside taunting me.