Page 22 of Twice Missing
Ironwood leaned in, squinting slightly at the bracelet. "It's Mohawk jewelry. Where did you get that from?"
Noah chose his words carefully. "It's part of a case we're investigating. Can you tell me what that says?" He pointed to the words embroidered on the band: Niá:wen tsi wahsekhnié:non.
"It means 'Thank you for helping me,'" Ironwood translated. He reached for the bag, but Noah pulled it back instinctively. Ironwood raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't going to steal it, Mr. Sutherland. I just wanted to take a closer look. A lot of our people make these. I gather you are searching for whoever gave or made it."
"Something like that," Noah admitted.
Ironwood nodded thoughtfully. "Anything like that would likely be found on the Akwesasne reservation."
"St. Regis Mohawk Res?" Noah asked.
A flicker of annoyance crossed Ironwood's face. "We prefer to call it Akwesasne reservation. The other is the government's name." He paused, his expression softening slightly. "Though if you are planning to visit, might I advise that you be cautious. Our people are welcoming, but they don't take too kindly to outsiders, especially those in law enforcement. We haven't had the best of experiences with those who pretend to want to help."
Noah nodded, taking the warning to heart. "Note taken. Thank you for your time."
As Noah turned to leave, Ironwood spoke up again. "I see your brother is frequenting our establishment again."
Noah froze, then slowly turned back. Ray had promised not to return. "How much does he owe?"
"No need to fret," Ironwood said, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "We have set a limit on him. It's only a couple of hundred, but he said he would be in at the end of the week to clear it."
Noah felt a surge of frustration. "Next time he shows up, refuse service."
Ironwood's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "Turn away a customer? No, can't do that."
"You ban people all the time," Noah countered.
"Those who win too much," Ironwood replied with a smirk.
Noah shook his head, seeing the amusement in Ironwood's eyes at his reaction. Without another word, heturned and strode out of the casino, the festive atmosphere now feeling oppressive rather than cheerful.
As he reached his car, Noah pulled out his phone, ready to call Ray and tear into him. He still owed Noah thousands of dollars, and here he was, throwing more money away at the casino. Before he could dial, however, a hand slapped against his window, startling him badly.
Noah whipped around to see a frazzled-looking man standing outside his car. It took him a moment to recognize Carl McNeal, and even then, he could hardly believe his eyes. This wasn't the Carl he remembered — the clean-shaven, well-dressed, egotistical maniac who carried himself like he owned the town. This Carl had longer hair, a scraggly beard, and red-rimmed eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and desperate days.
Cautiously, Noah lowered his window just a crack. "Carl?" he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and wariness. "What's happened to you?"
Out of breath, Carl replied, "You're in danger. Your entire family is."
"What areyou talking about?" Noah asked, his heart racingat the unexpectedwarning.
"Look, I don't have much time. The best way to protect yourselves is to stop looking into the Ashfords."
"Slow down. Take a breath."
Carl lookedaway, his eyesdarting aroundas if he expectedsomeone to jumpout from behinda snowbank. "I think I've beenfollowed. Don't trust anyone. I will findyou later," hesaid before runningaway, his footstepscrunching inthe fresh snow.
Noah watched as Carl's frantic figure disappeared into the snowy landscape, his mind reeling from the bizarre encounter. The man's disheveled appearance and cryptic warning left Noah with a sense of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. Before he could fully process what had just happened, a sleek black Aston Martin rolled into the parking lot, its tinted windows reflecting the casino's twinkling lights.
As Natalie Ashford lowered her window, Noah couldn't help but notice how put together she looked compared to Carl's ragged state. Her perfectly styled hair and impeccable makeup seemed worlds apart from the wild-eyed man who had just fled.
"Was that Carl?" Natalie asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
Noah made his way over to her car, the snow crunching under his feet. "Yeah. It was a weird interaction."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Natalie replied, a hint of something — pity? amusement? — in her voice. "He didn't take the news very well."
"What news?" Noah asked, his detective instincts kicking in.
