Открыть фик целиком в отдельном окне
Finally the movements of the baby inside her made Lindsay make her mind: she put on the warm coat and shoes and headed for the stairs, having locked the room.
The small town was still sleeping: no pedestrians, no cars, and no noises at all, just a crunching of snow under Lindsay's boots. She looked back at the track she left in the fresh fallen snow and felt light hearted. Snow flakes always made her remember childhood when everything was so different: big and bright and so colorful. There was magic for her in every Christmas, the childish wish to see a wonder. Of course she was too much of a scientist to laugh at her own superstitions but now, lost in the little town covered with snow, she felt like childhood returning. And she loved the feeling.
She looked up at the sky: now it was clearing up a bit, perhaps sun was just about to rise. She must be walking for hours. Lindsay checked her watch and in the dim light she could see that she left the hotel an hour ago. She was breathless and hot after so much exercise and stopped for a moment to take a look around. Now that she watched her surroundings, she could see that she wasn't in the town any more.
She was walking down a rather wide road, fields to the left and the forest to the right.
Lindsay searched in her pockets and cursed under the breath: of course she has forgotten the map of the town and the surroundings! It could be just the right time to take a look at the Indian settlement but it looked like she had to turn home.
Just at the moment as Lindsay turned to go, she caught a movement in the forests not far from her.
"Anybody's here?" she asked, her voice unusually loud and echoing in the crispy air. The figure stopped.
"Please, come out there, I won't hurt you, promise, it's just that I can't run, my baby wouldn't like it," coaxed Lindsay.
Perhaps the baby - part did the job, because whoever it was, it approached her.
Now, in the faint light of dawn, Lindsay could see it was an Indian girl, dressed in a parka, long dark hair falling over her shoulders like a cloak.
"Where's the baby?" the girl asked in a good English.
Lindsay smiled and patted her belly: "Here. The doctors told me it's due in a fortnight or so."
"Then what are you doing here?"
"Well, I was having a rest from the big city and then a friend of mine told me about an accident with her friend and I thought I could as well try to figure out what happened to this boy."
"And what happened to him?" the Indian asked, fearing worst.
"He died from a heart attack. A boy of seventeen."
The girl turned away. Then faced Lindsay again and Donner could see unshed tear in her eyes: "You know, my friend died as well. Of a heart attack."
"Really? Was it an Indian?"
"No, it was a white. His name was Steve."
The name rang a bell. Then Lindsay remembered: of course, that's what the first victim was called!
"And you were right there as it happened?" she asked.
"Not quite," the Indian again looked at the forest, "but tell you what? I'm going to talk to you about everything what happened and it's a long story. Let's meet somewhere else, right? It's too freezing standing here in the wind."
"Ok," Lindsay agreed, a bit bewildered, "you could come along at mine at the hotel."
"No, thanks but no. You know, people would talk what an Indian is doing in their hotel of the Whites," the girl didn't sound bitter, just casual. "Have you got a car?"
"Surely," Donner replied.
"Done then, just come here round three in the afternoon and I'll tell you where we could drive. Then I'll tell you my story."
"Fine," smiled Lindsay, still a bit put out, "see you later then."
"Bye," and the girl was gone, disappearing in the forest, dark hair blowing in the wind as she made her way through the trees.
Lindsay shrugged: the case was getting stranger with each minute but wasn't it always like this in all O.S.I.R. cases? Now she was pretty sure it was one.
The following afternoon Lindsay was sitting in her rented car at the spot where the Indian girl agreed to meet her and listened to the radio. She has talked to Peter after she had returned to the hotel this morning and told him that she thought it was the case for O.S.I.R. Pete's answer was some humming and Lindsay understood that she wouldn't get any help in this investigation.
"It's all right," she told him then, "I'll cope well on my own."
Pete had another opinion but he didn't dare tell her to get out of the town because it was too dangerous for her. Firstly, they would have quarreled and secondly Lindsay would have stayed anyway. Thirdly, she hated any fussing over her. And of course he wouldn't have liked her to break the connection. She could do something like this - once she got angry - therefore he decided better to have at least some calls and try to get the nagging worry out of his mind.
Lindsay looked out the window. The picture was still the same: the forest, frozen ground covered with snow, empty road and leaden sky, bearing no doubt a new snow fall. She sighed and threw a glance at her watch. It was already quarter past three and the Indian girl was still not there. Lindsay thought that perhaps it was wrong to agree to meet her but it was too late to turn back anyway. Was it better to sit in the hotel or at Tony's? Lindsay doubted that, the whole atmosphere was somehow tense, no matter where she went. It had something to do with the deaths of the two teenagers but she believed there was more. And her job was to find out what.
"I'm sorry, couldn't break away," the Indian materialized from somewhere just as Lindsay was about to throw another impatient glance at her watch.
"Well, hi," greeted Donner and switched on the engine. "Where do we go now?"
"Just follow the track," the girl replied, leaning back, "we'll be right there."
Where this "there" was remained unclear to Lindsay but she accelerated and directed the roaring car down the road.
The girl resumed speaking only when they were sitting in McDonald's where Lindsay bought her a meal and a cup of cocoa for herself. Before they got in, she looked around, as if expecting someone. Lindsay shrugged: the teens nowadays could be a bit strange.
"Steve was my friend, you know," the Indian said suddenly.
Lindsay waited.
"You don't wanna ask me how the things were between us and such?" she was perplexed.
"Why should I?" Donner asked. "You've made clear you don't want to be forced to speak and after all the relations with Steve are your private matter. Not my business anyway."
"I grow to like you more and more," the girl suddenly smiled. "I'm Little Moon but Steve called me Moni."
"Lindsay Donner," introduced herself Lindsay.
"Well, Lindsay - you let me call you Lindsay, don't you? - As I've already said, Steve was a good friend of mine. We usually met at night: fewer people around and easier to sneak out from under the Elders' noses. They look after everyone in the reservation," Little Moon explained, noticing Donner's questioning look. "So this night I went to meet Steve but he didn't come though I've been waiting for him for ages. Finally I was quite angry with him and decided to live. It was then I turned around and saw an old man."
"An old man?" Lindsay asked, remembering that Silvia used exactly the same words.
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