The Forest of Forever (The Soren Chase Series, Book One) by Blackwell Rob

Author:Blackwell, Rob [Blackwell, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2015-03-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

The puzzle in Soren’s mind had shattered to pieces again.

For one brief, shining moment, it had all made sense. Everything had fit in place. He saw all the faces from the forest—Jeremiah Coakley, Owen Leggett, Samuel Mitchell, Evan Turner, and even the Native Americans—circling the word “pretenders.”

But Annika’s cold, hard logic had blown that idea apart. The solution had been no solution at all. Despair crept over him, the gnawing feeling that he was near the answer but it was going to escape him. It would all slip through his fingers. The puzzle would never be complete.

He could feel Annika staring at him, watching him with some unreadable expression. Perhaps she thought he was cracking up. Maybe he was. The image of Evan Turner seeing himself in the forest weighed on him. It didn’t fit with what he thought he knew.

His mind turned over questions he couldn’t answer. What was the commonality between all the figures in Reapoke Forest? Other than geography, was there anything that connected these disparate people?

More perplexing was what a group like the Association was up to. Yes, the forest was cursed, a malady of negative psychic power. So what? How was that of any value to a man—or thing—like Randolph Chastain?

When he got home, he would have to look up the rest of the cases, the other people mentioned in Annika’s file. There must be something he was overlooking.

“We’re here,” Annika said.

Soren looked up to see the car pull into a parking lot in front of a large building. A sign nearby identified it as Samaria Baptist Church.

“I don’t need a religious intervention, Annika,” Soren said in confusion.

“No, but you wanted to see the Chickahominy people,” she said. “Here they are.”

Soren tried to shake off the sluggishness of his brain.

“At a church?” he asked.

“The tribe was Christianized hundreds of years ago, Soren,” she said. “It’s not that strange. Did you expect they would still be living in longhouses or something?”

“I don’t even know what a longhouse is,” he said. “I was thinking more of a teepee.”

“Wrong Indians,” she said.

Now that they were here, Soren realized how flawed his plan was. They needed information, but he didn’t know who to contact or how. In his head it had all been so simple. He would arrive at the tribe, find the chief, and demand to know what happened in the haunted forest four hundred years ago. Now that strategy seemed incredibly stupid.

“Come on,” Annika said, and she hopped out of the car.

He opened the door and followed after her as she strolled confidently toward the church.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“You said you wanted to talk,” Annika answered. “I got us a meeting with the tribe historian.”

Soren looked at her in wonder.

“When the hell did you do that?” he asked.

“In the car, when you were off in la-la land,” she said. “You seem like you’re feeling a little better at any rate.”

Soren nodded. The cobwebs around his brain were starting to clear.

“We’re in luck,” she said. “Wallace gives tons of money to lots of people.

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