Draw and Order

by Cheryl Hollon

  Sheriff Larson rubbed a hand across his chin. “Yeah. With two forensic experts on-site, they may want to take everything within ten feet of the remains.” He turned to Miranda. “You, however, can go on back. There’s no need for you to stay.”

  “I want to stay.” Miranda’s voice cracked. She cleared her throat and then stood up straight and tall as she spoke. “I may have the best reason to stay.”

  “Why?” asked Ranger Morgan. “What do you mean?”

  “The bones could belong to Howard Cable. He left early one morning for a hike in these hills exactly five years ago. He never returned.”

  Sheriff Larson and Ranger Morgan exchanged a glance.

  “I remember that search and rescue effort very well. But why would you need to stay?” asked Sheriff Larson.

  “I want to represent the interests of the family.” She stared at the remains. “Howard was the only son of my mom’s sister, Aunt Ora. He’s my first cousin.”

  Chapter 5

  Sunday Afternoon, Battleship Rock

  Range Morgan climbed down the Indian Staircase backward. Dr. DuPont had texted Felicia that she would be there in about ten more minutes and would need help with her gear.

  After Ranger Morgan had tied it to a sturdy rope, Sheriff Larson pulled up a black forensic-investigation case. They repeated the process for a backpack. Preceded by some serious on-the-spot rock climbing training, a sturdy woman with a bright shock of close-cropped purple hair arrived followed by a perspiring Ranger Austin. Sheriff Larson carried the equipment a handy distance from the remains and set it down.

  “Thanks, that’s considerate.” Dr. DuPont looked at the view to Battleship Rock. “This is the first time I’ve been up here.”

  “Barbara!” shouted Felicia, and gave her friend a giant hug.

  “Hi, Felicia. Sorry it took so long. I would have been here sooner if traffic wasn’t such a disaster in Lexington.”

  “Why is that?” asked Miranda. “It’s Sunday!”

  “Today’s the Bourbon Chase, that two-hundred-mile running relay that ties up the highways—it has checkpoints at five distilleries.” Dr. DuPont stuck out her hand. “Hi. I’m Barbara. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “No, we haven’t. I’m Miranda Trent. I discovered the bones.”

  Barbara grimaced, “Oh, I’m so sorry. That can be upsetting. Where are they?”

  Miranda pointed to the tree.

  Lifting her field case and backpack, Barbara made her way over to the site of the skeleton and stood for a moment. She stepped about six feet away and put her gear down. “You were right to call me, Felicia. This is definitely my specialty.” Barbara looked up and pointed to a log about ten feet away. “You guys get comfortable over there. I don’t want any more contamination than has already occurred.”

  Sheriff Larson smiled politely and led Felicia, Austin, and Miranda over to sit on the log. “Anybody got some water?” Sheriff Larson asked.

  “You didn’t bring any?” Felicia sounded exasperated and also tolerant. “Of course not. I did.”

  Miranda frowned. She thought it must be complicated to have a two-career law-enforcement marriage. Definitely something to think about if she continued to be involved with Austin.

  Felicia dived into her pack and pulled out a Yeti thermos. The tinging of ice cubes inside the container echoed across the clearing. “You would forget your head if it wasn’t attached.”

  She handed her husband the container and he took a long draft. “Thanks.” She turned and raised her eyebrows at Miranda and Austin. They both shook their heads no.

  Barbara had pulled on a white coverall and blue bootees and donned latex gloves. She was hovering over the leaf litter and carefully removing debris with a trowel. It looked like her favorite tool. The handle was worn and discolored and the point had been chipped. Her power of concentration was evident in her intense focus as she examined the bones. Miranda was convinced that an elephant could have walked by and Barbara wouldn’t have noticed.

  Felicia stared at her friend with increasing concern. “She’s taking a long time.” She turned to her husband. “Why do you think she’s taking such a long time?”

  “Honey, I have no clue. This is your bailiwick—not mine.”

  Finally, Barbara stood, pulled off her gloves, bootees, and coveralls, bundled them into a bag and stuffed the bag into her case. She walked over to the little group.

  “So far, I’ve confirmed that these are the remains of a male about twenty-five years old. There is no identification. There is evidence of unusual injuries to the hands and legs.”

  Sheriff Larson interrupted, “No identification? At all?”

  “That’s right. No identification and no sign of a backpack or any gear at all.” She paused for a moment. “I want the remains and the surrounding soil taken to my lab for a complete examination. We’re gonna need a helicopter to remove it.”

  “What?” Sheriff Larson’s voice rose to the level of a hawk screeching. “We can’t afford that.”

  “Calm down, Richard.” Felicia patted her husband on the arm. “The interest in this is going to be much wider than just Wolfe County. The state will have to cover this. Most search and rescue teams operate on volunteer staffs and sponsor donations. Stop worrying about your budget.”

  Sheriff Larson took a deep breath. “I have good reason to worry. Our new state comptroller has determined that the eastern mountain counties don’t need separate funds. He’s pooled all the money into one giant pot. I’ll have to request and receive approval for every exceptional expense.”

  “Ouch. That’s a shortsighted change.” Felicia pressed her lips together. “You’d better start filing requests. This is going to be a complicated case.”

  Austin pulled out his phone. “I’ll call down to the rescue center for their helicopter.” He looked up at the sky. “The wind is picking up, but they can be here in a few minutes.” He held his phone out front and walked nearer to the edge of the clearing to get the best signal.

  “The weather report was for rain this evening, but it could be coming in early.” Miranda looked at the site of the bones. “Do you think we should get everything ready now—just in case the helicopter gets here quickly?”

  “Good thinking.” Barbara dived into her case and pulled out a body bag compressed into a square the size of a package of printer paper. “Felicia, can you help me? Sorry, Miranda. Only officials should be involved. Lawyers and courts being what they are.”

  Felicia and Barbara spent a good half hour preparing the remains. The wind continued to rise and was playing havoc with the loose debris. With all the soil that Barbara wanted to accompany the bones, it must have weighed several times more than an injured hiker.

  Unconsciously everyone surrounded the body bag like pallbearers.

  Austin’s phone rang. Noting the origin, he put it on speaker. “Hello, Fred. What’s the situation?”

  Everyone was all ears.

  “We can’t get up there. In fact, you can’t come down at this point. A ripsnorter of a storm is going to hit you guys in about ten minutes. It’s big and powerful. Shelter up in that cavern up there. We’ll be in touch the first thing in the morning to get the remains.”

  Austin ended the call. “Did you hear that?”

  Silence.

  “We have to stay up here all night?” Sheriff Larson said. “We can’t do that.”

  Miranda pointed to her backpack. “Of course, we can. There’s a perfectly dry cavern over there, and I have a two-person emergency tent. What do you have Felicia?”

  Looking pleased with herself, she said, “I have a three-person emergency tent that I have been dragging around in my pack for years. Not luxurious, of course, but we can manage for the night.”

  “The first priority is to get dry wood before the storm hits,” said Austin. “Everyone spread out and get all sizes. We’ll need to keep a fire going all night.”

  The wind began picking up, and the group moved themselves into th
e cavern with plenty of firewood. Austin stacked it into the back of the cavern, then started a small fire in a spot that seemed to be perfect.

  “This is mostly likely exactly where the Native Americans built their cooking fire. See how the smoke goes up through a few crevasses in the ceiling?”

  Sheriff Larson was wearing a frown. “This is not going to be fun.”

  “Stop being so gloomy,” said Felicia.

  A bright flash of lighting signaled the start of a noisy downpour. The group stood at the entrance to the cavern and gave up all hope of leaving before morning.

  Miranda pulled her pack next to Felicia’s. “We’d better take an inventory of what we have to eat. I’ve got some leftover picnic supplies, a water bottle, and a pint of my lemonade moonshine cocktail. Let’s pile everything onto this napkin.”

  Ranger Morgan pulled two protein bars from his side pockets. He followed that with a tin of mints from his top pocket. Looking at the others, he said, “I talk to the public a lot.”

  Barbara dug into her enormous purse and pulled out two instant oatmeal packets, a moon pie, a large chocolate bar, and a bag of chips. She sat them down on the napkin.

  “Anyone else?”

  Sheriff Larson spread his empty hands. “I got nothing.”

  “You dolt,” said Felicia, who pulled out two emergency rations packets from her backpack, a large bag of nuts and raisins, a large bar of chocolate identical to Barbara’s, and a bottle of water.

  “I had the students leave their lunch baskets. I had a feeling we might be stuck up here for a few hours. I didn’t think it would be overnight. We brought a lot of food and I don’t think we can be fussy about leftovers. Let’s see what we have.”

  The picnic baskets contributed only three pieces of partially eaten chicken, five servings of green beans, three servings of the mustard potato salad, two hunks of corn bread, and a lot of pickled cabbage.

  Miranda started sorting the food into five piles. “Let’s leave the oatmeal and nuts for breakfast. I think we should eat everything else and clean up so that we don’t attract critters. It’s going to be hard enough to get any sleep without the sound of little scavengers searching for scraps.”

  Miranda edged closer to Barbara. “Do you know how long the body has been here?”

  “Let’s say”—she looked up at the sky—“for estimation purposes—you know, to help y’all search through the missing persons databases—somewheres between three and ten years. Why do you want to know?”

  Miranda looked at Felicia, then back at Barbara. “My cousin Howard Cable went missing five years ago today.”

  Chapter 6

  Sunday Evening, Battleship Rock

  It was a miserable night. They set up both tents with the openings facing the fire for what little reflected warmth it could provide. Everyone agreed to a rotating one-hour shift for tending to the fire.

  Miranda, Felicia, and Barbara took the larger tent and the men took the smaller, but getting any sleep was hopeless. It was damp. The ground was hard and smelled like soured modeling clay. The flashes of lightning found their way through tightly closed eyes. The howling winds and the creaking pine tree sounds of the woods fighting the storm kept them on edge. No one could settle, so the sound of rustling bodies was continuous.

  Felicia cleared her throat, then whispered, “I have a question for you, Miranda. It’s been tickling my mind since you demanded to stay up here. Why are you so sure these bones belong to your cousin?”

  Miranda kept her voice low, too. “That’s a good question.” She paused again for several minutes.

  Barbara started to speak but Felicia shouldered her quiet.

  “I think,” began Miranda, “I think it’s a clear memory for me because it was a time of big decisions. I was thinking about how I didn’t really fit in up in Dayton. My Appalachian landscape paintings had a small following, but not enough to support even my modest needs. My few artist friends had gone to either Asheville, Santa Fe, or had dropped out altogether and were bartending in the Oregon district near downtown. So—”

  “Why bartending?” Barbara interrupted.

  “Did you know that you can make more than a thousand dollars on a Friday or Saturday night in as little as six hours?”

  “Wow.”

  “I would have to sell four or five paintings all at once to do that well. Oh, and I spend about forty hours on each one.” Miranda’s voice sounded wistful, not bitter. “Anyway, I was planning to go big and move to New York City. One of my art buddies was already living up there and she was getting some recognition, so I decided to go.”

  Felicia shifted in a fruitless effort to get more comfortable. “You haven’t answered my question. Why do you think this is Howard?”

  “He called me the week before he disappeared.”

  “Why?”

  “My mom and his mom were discussing my situation, and he said he felt drawn to give me some advice.”

  “What about?”

  “He said that he understood how I was feeling about risking everything for a dream. He felt the same when he went to college. He said he was on the brink of another life-changing adventure, but he couldn’t share it with me right now. He gave me the confidence to move to New York City. Otherwise, I don’t think I would have done it. His encouragement was the tipping point.” Miranda paused and lowered her voice. “But he would never leave without letting his mother know.”

  By the end of the second hour, the men had migrated over into the larger tent. That raised the temperature inside from painfully frigid up to merely bitter cold.

  Barbara complained in detail about each discomfort in a running stream of scientific detail. At first, Miranda appeased her by placing her in the coveted spot closest to the fire, giving her a drawing tablet to sit on. Then Miranda even handed over the extra pair of socks she was wearing. She gave up after realizing that nothing stemmed the relentless whining.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Risking frostbite, but getting relief from Barbara’s endless barrage of unpleasantness, Miranda stepped out of the tent and phoned her closest neighbors, Roy and Elsie Kash. She explained the situation and asked them to run over to her farmhouse to feed Sandy. As she expected, they said they would take him in until she got home. Sandy adored Elsie, who was so softhearted that a sad puppy face would be rewarded with a treat—many treats.

  Ranger Morgan kept a check-in text chain going with the rescue crew every thirty minutes. Each time they texted, he touched his phone and it would light up the tent and he would step outside to have a few words with the mountain rescue organization. The contact calls stopped when the signal suddenly dropped to zero. “I think the tower is down. It might have been struck by lightning. They know we’re up here and waiting for them to take the remains down off the mountain. We just have to wait.”

  The storm claimed all their attention as it grew in strength and intensity. The lightning flashed across the sky lighting the cave and the faces of the stranded. The tent surrounded them like a mother protecting a frightened child.

  At dawn, everyone was huddled in a drowsy pile and the fire had burned down to a few glowing embers. Ranger Morgan carefully untangled himself from the heap and quietly rebuilt the fire. He left the cavern and stood by the gate to assess the weather.

  He smiled and turned back to the group. “Hey, guys, the storm has passed and everything’s gorgeous. You can tell it was really bad last night from the looks of things up here. Branches have fallen and are hanging from everywhere. Give me a chance to check for widow-makers before we start moving around.”

  Miranda crawled out of the tent, stood up, and stretched her aching muscles. “Wait. What’s a widow-maker? I’ve never heard that one before.”

  “Good morning,” said Austin. “You have no right to look as if you spent the night at a five-star resort.”

  Miranda felt a flush bloom in her cheeks. She covered her face with one hand then said softly, “Thank you.”

 
He cleared his throat. “A widow-maker is a large branch that is precariously positioned to drop with the next puff of wind. Like that one.” He pointed to a six-foot branch snagged by a twig on a bobbling tree branch. “I’m gonna fix it right now.” Austin grabbed the branch and tugged with his body weight. It crashed with a resounding thump. “That could have killed someone.”

  After rubbing her hands together to warm them up, Miranda pulled out her phone. “Still no signal. We have no idea if they’re coming for us. No signal could mean damage to the helicopter.”

  “They’ll be here,” said Sheriff Larson. “They have the resources to reach out to other volunteer organizations throughout the state. Don’t worry. A stranded group of state officers is a priority matter.”

  Felicia got up and out of the tent, stretched herself tall, and groaned. “I used to be able to sleep on the ground without even dreaming. Boy, those days are gone.” She turned to Sheriff Larson. “Look at that.” She pointed to the bank of thick clouds that loomed over the cliff in cotton-like silence. “That’s where the rescue should be coming from. We’re fogged in and I’ll bet the helicopter is grounded. It’s that time of year.”

  “I know,” Austin grumped. “I was hoping for a clear day.”

  “There’s no chance of that,” said Miranda.

  “I agree,” said Barbara, crawling out of the tent on all fours. “I want some coffee and I want to go to my lab. I desperately crave a completely boring day.” Barbara stood beside Ranger Morgan with her hands on her hips. “I’m certainly glad I prepared the body so well last night. I’ll check to make sure it’s still safe.”

  “Hang on a second.” Felicia popped up as fresh and bright as a Girl Scout—not as if she’d slept rough on a cold, hard cavern floor. “I’ll go with you.”