Page 36 of Twice Missing
One of the men stepped forward, his stance aggressive. "What's State Police doing on our reservation? You got no jurisdiction here."
Another chimed in, his voice thick with suspicion, "Yeah, and what's with that bracelet? Where'd you get it?"
Noah felt them starting to surround him, his cop instincts kicking into high alert. He was about to reach for his service weapon when suddenly, a young Native woman in running gear jogged up. Her arrival was like a splash of cold water on a hot griddle.
She said something in her native tongue, her tone sharp and authoritative despite her youth. The men reluctantly backed away, muttering under their breaths.
"I'm not sure what you said, but thanks," Noah said,relief evident in his voice. "For a moment there, I got a sense things were about to go south."
"They were," she said matter-of-factly, entering the store without elaborating. Noah watched through the window as she bought a drink, her movements quick and efficient.
When she exited, he approached her again, hoping to glean more information. "Still here, I see," she said, cracking open her drink and taking a long swig. Sweat glistened on her brow, and her breathing was slightly labored from her run.
"Hey, uh, do you think I could get a moment of your time?" Noah asked, trying to strike a balance between friendly and professional.
The young woman shook her head. "No. I still have a few miles to run, and if I were you, I'd leave too." Her tone wasn't unkind, but there was a clear warning in her words.
"Never thought I'd encounter such hostility," Noah mused, more to himself than to her.
She paused in her stretching, fixing him with a direct gaze. "Oh, this isn't hostility. This is just friendly advice. You're an outsider here, and a cop at that. It doesn't sit well with some folks."
Noah decided to take a chance. He pulled out the evidence bag again, holding it up for her to see. "Maybe then you can give me some other advice. Have you seen one of these before?"
Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. "Where did you get that?"
"So you have seen it," Noah pressed, sensing a potential breakthrough.
She stepped closer, examining the bracelet through the plastic. Her fingers traced the outline of the intricate beadwork. "Yeah. The Akwesasne Cultural Center gift shop carries them. It's made by one of the local artists. You buy it there?"
"No," Noah replied, his mind racing with the implications of this information. "You know where I can find that artist?"
She let go of the bag, her expression guarded once more. "They would have a record at the Cultural Center."
As she began to jog away, Noah called out, "Hey, I didn't get your name."
She turned, running backward with surprising grace. "I didn't get yours either," she replied, a hint of a grin on her face.
"Noah Sutherland," he offered, hoping the gesture might encourage her to reciprocate.
She nodded but didn't offer her name as she continued her run, soon disappearing around a bend in the road.
Noah made his way back to the car, where McKenzie was scrolling through his phone. "Not interrupting anything, am I?" Noah asked, sliding into the passenger seat.
McKenzie looked up, pocketing his device. "Oh, no, just checking on my stocks and investments. Buy, sell, you have to be on top of these things." He paused, noting Noah's expression. "Everything alright? You were in there a while."
Noah hesitated, deciding not to mention the encounterwith the hostile group, who were still eyeing him from their trucks. No need to escalate the situation. "Yeah, fine. Just got a potential lead on the bracelet."
As they pulled out of the gas station, Noah knew they were stepping into a complex web of community dynamics and long-held grievances. He realized the case was about much more than a single missing girl, it was about history, culture, and the delicate balance between justice and respect for a community's autonomy.
14
It was a sight to behold. As Noah and McKenzie approached the Akwesasne Cultural Center, they were struck by the building's unique architecture. It seamlessly blended modern design with traditional Mohawk elements, its facade adorned with intricate patterns reminiscent of ancient wampum belts. The large windows reflected the clear blue sky, while the entrance was flanked by two towering totem poles, their carved faces seeming to watch the detectives as they approached.
A group of young men lounged on the steps, their eyes following Noah and McKenzie with a mix of curiosity and wariness. The detectives could feel the weight of their gazes as they climbed the stairs, the tension palpable in the air.
As they pushed through the glass doors, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The interior was warm and inviting. The smell of sage and sweetgrass lingered in the air, creating a calming ambiance.
To their right, a spacious library beckoned with rows of books on Native American history, culture, and literature. To their left, an art gallery showcased vibrant paintings and sculptures by local artists, each piece telling a story of Mohawk heritage and contemporary life.
