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The doe lay open and vulnerable on the table, its insides exposed to the world, much like how Rachel felt under the scrutiny of the sheriff's gaze.
Rachel shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like this world of metaphors and half-comments. She preferred a more direct form of honesty. She shook her head and said, "I'm working on the case."
"You've been working on it," Sarah pressed, her tone tense.
The last time they'd encountered each other, they'd devolved into an argument. Sarah still blamed Rachel for the stagnancy of the case. Rachel had since made some progress. But she didn't mention what she'd learned. Didn't mention the claims of criminals about her parents' involvement in a billion-dollar heist.
What would the point have been?
No... Rachel didn't need an outsider peering over her shoulder.
Aunt Sarah had also taken some of the offense found around her. No one on the reservation understood why she'd joined the Rangers instead of Dawes' station. But she'd often found that one made a difference on the outside.
At least... that's what she so often told herself.
But other times, like now, standing here on this desolate land with the scent of blood lingering on the air... She wondered if her decision had entailed more than that.
"Your mother would've wanted us to find the truth," Aunt Sarah murmured, more to herself than to Rachel.
Dawes held up his hands, cigarette still glowing. "I'm just here to help."
Rachel glanced between the two of them. Then she shrugged. "I know. I'll let you know if I need any."
"I asked for your help," Dawes pointed out.
She stared. And suddenly, her eyes widened.
"Holy shit," she said.
"Language!" Aunt Sarah snapped.
"That's what this is about?" Rachel pressed on, glancing between the two of them. "You invited me back home to help on this case... so I would be indebted to ask for your help?"
She stared, mouth unhinged.
She rounded on her aunt, "Was this your idea?"
The native woman's bloodied hands rested on her wide hips. Her face was round and tinged with sweat along her copper skin. Her white-streaked black braids were pulled back under a coonskin tassel. Her dark eyes met her niece's, quiet and watchful.
"Sometimes we all need help," Sarah said.
Rachel felt manipulated. Felt anger. Her aunt often tried to move pieces, controlling
the chessboard of their lives, but this was a move that Rachel hadn't anticipated. She took a step back, the weight of her mother's case crushing down on her shoulders.
"I've been doing what I can," Rachel said, her voice strained with frustration. "I didn't ask for your help, Aunt Sarah. I didn't ask for any of this."
Sarah's eyes flashed. And Ethan glanced up as if he sensed the sparks about to erupt. He held the bloody knife over the doe, and looked hesitantly between them.
But just seeing Ethan crouched there only further fueled her anger.
Her aunt had tried to manipulate him as well.
"The world doesn't bow to you," Rachel said sharply. And she wanted to add more. She would've if she hadn't bit her tongue, quite literally, drawing blood.
Aunt Sarah's breath caught in her throat as she watched her niece's eyes flash with the same intensity as the flames that flickered in the fire pit. Rachel's words hung heavy in the air, shattering the silence that had been a silent witness to their familial tension.
Sheriff Dawes, a seasoned veteran in these territories due to Kai, knew better than to intervene. He took a long pull from his cigarette, letting the smoke be a silent testament to his understanding. It was difficult to read the emotions that flashed across Ethan's face as Rachel's words sliced through the still night air.
