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I headed directly for the Internet. I could rationalize all that I wanted to, but deep down I knew that the discovery of a swastika-bearing chunk of wood could not be good. I needed to find out what it meant. I had to protect this town and its people at all costs. They'd put their trust in me, and I wouldn't let them down.
I found out all sorts of things I really didn't want to know about the Nazis. Was there anything good to know about them?
However, under "Origin of the Swastika" I discovered something else. The sign dated from prehistoric times and was an Icelandic symbol of both protection and rebirth.
My search for totems, charms, and amulets made of wood caused thousands of sites to spill onto my screen. The first ones referenced Native American tribes - Inuit and Ojibwe specifically, but nothing on the Cherokee.
The second set referenced Wicca. Spells, natural cures, good luck, bad luck, and anything in between.
I rubbed my forehead. This wasn't going anywhere.
My phone rang, the shrill brring slicing through the lovely quiet of my office. I shot a glare at Joyce through the glass.
She motioned furiously for me to answer, and I remembered that I'd told her to interrupt only in the case of an emergency. I snatched up the phone. "Claire Kennedy. "
"Get your butt to the hospital. "
"Grace?" I asked, but she'd already hung up.
Chapter 13
I wasn't sure what I expected to find at the Lake Bluff Community Hospital. Certainly not Grace sitting quietly in an empty room, staring at her hands.
"Where's the fire?" I asked.
She glanced up. "He's gone. "
"He, who?"
"Ryan Freestone. " At my blank expression she elaborated. "The tourist who was attacked by the wolf. "
"So?"
"Gone as in disappeared and can't find a trace of him anywhere. "
I sat, too. "You'd better start from the beginning. "
Grace spread her hands. In one she held the swastika-marred slice of wood. "I came here to ask him about this. He was gone. No one's seen him since last night. "
"He got sick of the place and left. I know I would. "
"He didn't return to his hotel. His car's still in the lot. "
"He's enjoying the festival. "
"Maybe. I have my people keeping an eye out. But so far no one's seen him. "
"He'll show up. "
"Maybe," she repeated, turning the wood over and over in her hand like a worry stone.
"What's the matter with you?"
"I watched the security tape. "
A prickle of unease washed over me. "And?"
She picked up the controller for the VCR and pointed it at the television mounted on the wall opposite the bed. A low thunk and flickering images appeared.
