Ghost Canyon (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 7)

by Anthony M. Strong

  Luckily, Rossi was not the only one with friends in high places. Harlan might not have the DA or a district judge on his payroll, but there were people in town who owed him—like that stupid cop who got in over his head on the craps tables a few years back. He was a sergeant now. The five grand Harlan had written off back then, on the hunch that a grateful Vegas police officer was worth more than turning a quick profit, might just pay off. Harlan smiled. Then he muted the TV, searched his phone’s contacts, and placed a call.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The campsite was even worse than Tiffany had feared. It was nothing but a moderately flat patch of brown earth surrounded by sagebrush, nestled on a plateau beneath towering rock formations of limestone and dolomite. The ride up had been smooth enough until Darwin left the highway behind and took to the wilderness back trails to a spot he’d camped at the year before with friends. And judging by the remains of several fire pits, he wasn’t the only one who decided this spot was a great place to bed down.

  They pitched the tent, which Darwin assured her was big enough for two people but looked like a tight squeeze to Tiffany. After that, hot and sweating, they sat in the Jeep for a while with the air running and ate a light meal of turkey sandwiches from one of the twin coolers containing their provisions. They washed it down with bottles of water and then got back to work. It would be sundown soon, and Darwin wanted to light a fire.

  He dug a shallow hole and gathered stones into a circle around it, then retrieved a fire log from the back of the Jeep. He’d learned from a previous trip that this was easier than trying to gather firewood, especially in the arid desert.

  Tiffany sat on a rock a few feet away and watched him work. The temperature was dropping already from a high of seventy degrees. The forecast predicted it would drop as low as fifty-five overnight, and Tiffany was glad that she had packed several sweaters, not to mention her thickest flannel PJs, which might disappoint Darwin but would keep her toasty.

  After a few minutes, he got a roaring fire going and warmed his hands over the flames. That done, he got a blanket from the Jeep, which he spread over the ground.

  “Want to join me?” He asked, flopping down.

  “Sure.” Tiffany pushed herself up from the rock and joined him on the blanket, huddling close against the mounting breeze, which made the temperature feel a good five degrees colder than it actually was.

  “We should have brought marshmallows,” Tiffany said, enjoying the fire’s warmth and watching the flames leap and dance. “We could’ve made s’mores.”

  “Your wish is my command,” Darwin said, jumping up. He returned to the Jeep and fumbled around in one of the coolers, then came back with a Hershey’s family sized bar, a box of graham crackers, and a bag of white fluffy marshmallows. He held a pair of metal skewers in his other hand, one of which he offered to her. “Wouldn’t be a camping trip without s’mores.”

  Tiffany grinned. “Did you pack a guitar too, so that we can have a sing-along?”

  “Dang it,” Darwin said, laughing. “I knew I was forgetting something.”

  “That’s it, then. Might as well pack up and head home.” Tiffany tore open the marshmallows and pushed one on to her skewer. “I only came out here for the campfire songs.”

  “Trust me, if I brought a guitar out here and tried to play it, you would beg to go back. I took lessons in high school. It was not pretty. Talk about all thumbs.”

  “Sounds like my singing.” Tiffany held the marshmallow near the fire and watched it brown. “I actually got kicked out of choir in tenth grade. It was so embarrassing.”

  “Really?” Darwin chuckled. “Wish I was there to see that.”

  “How about I serenade you right now, then?” Tiffany grinned. “That will guarantee you don’t bring me camping again.”

  “I’m sure you sing like an angel,” Darwin replied.

  “Good answer.” Tiffany nodded. “Continue like that and I might keep you warm in the tent tonight.”

  “Looking forward to it already.” Darwin plucked a graham cracker from the box and broke it in half, piling it with chocolate and toasted marshmallow. He popped the creation into his mouth and chewed, then took a second marshmallow and skewered it.

  Tiffany ate her own s’mores and watched the sun drop below the mountains, the sky turning a fiery shade of red before fading to deep blue and finally black as night crept across the landscape. A million stars looked down upon them, bright points of light splashed across the heavens, a twinkling river in a never-ending cosmos. She looked up in awe, surprised by the intensity of the night sky.

  Darwin, sensing her wonder, took her hand in his. “Everything is so much more vibrant out here at night,” he said. “There’s no light pollution from the city to get in the way.”

  “It’s incredible,” Tiffany whispered. “I’ve never really paid much attention to it before. I can see why you like to camp out here.”

  “If you look long enough, you’ll see a shooting star.” Darwin was craning his neck upward. He pointed to the fast streak that arched over their heads before fading away. “There’s one now.”

  “That was pretty neat.”

  “Now you glad we came out?”

  “Absolutely.” Tiffany inched closer to Darwin and put her arm around him. She looked into his eyes and when they kissed it tasted like chocolate and marshmallow.

  She let out a contented sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. The air was crisp and clean. The fire cast an orange glow that made her feel sleepy. It crackled and popped while further away the breeze whistled through the rocks. And then, rising over it all, a shrill resonant howl that rose and ebbed as it bounced off the canyon walls.

  Tiffany let out a small cry and tensed. She looked around, wild-eyed, into the darkness beyond the campfire. “What was that?”

  “Don’t worry. Probably just a coyote.” Darwin hugged her tight. “It’s nowhere near us. We’re perfectly safe.”

  “Okay.” Tiffany took deep breaths to steady her jangled nerves, but it was no use. Instead, she pressed close to Darwin, and peered out into the darkness, praying that she wouldn’t see a pair of eyes looking back from the gloom.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Last Chance Saloon and Hotel was an oasis of comfort surrounded by a sea of dilapidation. Decker stood in the grand lobby and studied the ornate staircase winding up through the building to the second and third floors, and the carved double doors with inset etched glass leading into the saloon bar.

  “Quite a place, huh?” Special Agent Fowler said, noting the look of surprise on Decker’s face.

  “It’s nicer than I expected,” Decker replied. “Hard to believe it’s in such a run-down location.”

  “It needs to be nice,” a female voice said to Decker’s left. “Otherwise, it won’t be much of a wedding venue. The rest of the town might not be much to look at now but come back next year and you might be surprised.”

  Decker turned to find an attractive woman with dark brown eyes and even darker hair standing at the base of the stairs. She wore a white tee tucked into a pair of tight jeans.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” Decker said. “You’re the owner of this place, I assume.”

  “Part-owner. Sixty-six and a bit percent. The other thirty-three percent is probably polishing off a bottle of my good liquor in his cabin on the other end of the property. I’m sure you’ll have the displeasure of meeting him in due course, and for that I must apologize in advance.” The woman feigned a rueful look. “My name’s Robyn Miller.”

  “John Decker.”

  “Ah. The specialist.”

  “That’s a better description than I usually get,” Decker said with a smile. “Who exactly is the other owner?”

  Agent Barnes cleared his throat. “Carlton Miller. He’s a gem. I’d like to say something nice about him but haven’t found a suitable example yet.”

  “Although we haven’t been here very long,” Special Agent Fowler interject
ed quickly, no doubt worried about offending Robyn. “I’m sure we just caught him on a bad day.”

  Robyn smirked. “No, you didn’t. You might find this hard to believe, but he’s actually on his best behavior right now.”

  “He’s not well-liked, then?” Decker asked.

  “That’s an understatement,” Robyn replied. “Take a step outside, look around at the falling down buildings and old junk lying around. Pay particular attention to the no trespassing signs and rather dubious threats that he will shoot first and ask questions later posted wherever he doesn’t want people nosing around, and that should give you a clue about the old sot’s temperament.”

  “I see,” Decker said.

  “Carlton’s been living up here for decades and the isolation must’ve stripped away whatever social skills he once possessed. He wasn’t too happy when I showed up after inheriting majority ownership of the town,” Robyn said. “I haven’t been here long enough to do much except renovate the hotel so far, but this place will be unrecognizable by the time I’m finished. Not that Carlton’s going to like it.” She folded her arms defiantly. “But that’s just too bad. Of course, recent events might put a crimp in those plans, which I’m sure the old bastard will appreciate. We were all over the local news last night, and they’ve been milking it all day. It’s a disaster.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Decker said.

  “Meh. What are you going to do?” Robyn shrugged. “But enough about my troubles. I’m sure you want to settle in after your long trip. You flew in from Maine, correct?”

  “Yes.” Decker nodded. “My employer is there, although right now I’m living in Mississippi.”

  “I’ve never visited either place, although I’d love to visit New England in the fall. I’ve heard it’s spectacular.”

  “It is,” Decker agreed. “Cold though, especially when you’re used to southern climes.”

  “I’m a Chicago girl, myself, so the exact opposite. I’m always sweating. The heat here in high summer is intolerable.” Robyn motioned toward the stairs. “But enough talk of the weather. If you’d like to come with me, I’ll walk you to your room.”

  “That would be nice.” Decker realized he was still holding his bags. His arms were aching.

  Robyn motioned for him to follow and started up the stairs. At the top she turned left and stopped outside of a door halfway along a narrow corridor lit by wall fixtures that must once have been gas but were now converted to electricity. They looked original. Decker found it refreshing that Robyn had retained the building’s character rather than rip everything out and start anew.

  She removed a key from her pocket and unlocked the door, then stepped aside for him to enter. The bedroom was restored with as much love as the rest of the building. The furniture had been selected to mimic the Old West, and the attention to detail was exquisite. Decker felt like he had stepped back in time. The only item that looked out of place was the flatscreen TV mounted above the dresser, but even this had been artfully disguised, with an ornate gold frame placed around it to blend more fully into the surroundings. A mild odor of fresh paint and sawn wood hung in the air. The sheets on the bed looked crisp and new.

  Decker set his bags on the floor and turned back to Robyn. “This is better than I expected.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that,” Robyn replied. She offered Decker the room key. “Once you’ve freshened up, you can head down to the kitchen and I’ll make you something to eat, if you’d like.”

  “That would be fantastic,” Decker said. He’d eaten on the plane, but that was hours ago. He was getting hungry again. “I’ll be right down.”

  “Whenever you’re ready.” Robyn retreated to the doorway. “I’m a night owl, so I’ll be up late.”

  “Understood.”

  Robyn nodded toward a closed door to her left. “The en-suite is through there. Originally these rooms would’ve had chamber pots, but we thought we’d go a little more civilized.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Decker said.

  “Back in pioneer days, if you wanted an actual toilet, you would need to venture beyond the hotel to the outhouse.”

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t get too authentic,” Decker replied. “That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

  “Especially when you consider your toilet paper would be corn husks. Not the kind of feature a modern bride wants for her wedding.” Robyn smiled. “Anyway, I’ll see you downstairs soon.”

  Decker nodded and watched her leave. He closed the door and took another glance around the room before picking up his travel bag and putting it on the bed. As he unzipped it, a sound drifted from the darkness beyond the bedroom window. A lonely warbling howl. Probably a coyote. He went to the window and peered out but saw no sign of the animal. He could hear it yipping though, most likely up in the mountains. Something had agitated the beast. Decker wondered if it was responding to a mundane threat, like another alpha-male in its territory, or if it could sense the creature lurking in the dark mine tunnels beneath its feet, hungry for a new victim.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Harlan Biggs paced back and forth while he waited for the phone to connect. When it finally did, a gruff voice came on the line.

  “What do you want?”

  “Sergeant Lawson, it’s Harlan Biggs.”

  “I know who the hell it is. I have you listed in my contacts as never again.”

  “Cute. If you’d kept your gambling habit under control in the first place, I wouldn’t be in your contacts at all.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s a little late for that now. Still doesn’t mean I want to talk to you.”

  “Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”

  “If you’re calling for a favor, forget it. I made that speeding ticket go away back in February, and I smoothed it over when your pit boss got a little handsy with one of the customers.”

  “That guy was counting cards. My floormen had every right to ask him to leave. Wasn’t our fault he got belligerent.”

  “Harlan, your boy was heavy-handed, and you know it. Besides, there was no proof the guy was cheating outside of the fact that he’d won a butt load of money and you didn’t like it. You’re lucky he didn’t sue your ass.”

  “Hasn’t happened since, has it?” Harlan was growing impatient. “Can we get down to business?”

  “I’ve already told you, there is no business. I’m done doing favors for you. Go find someone else to bother.”

  “Okay. I can do that,” Harlan said. “Just a quick question, though, are Internal Affairs still on the same number?”

  “Dammit, Harlan. You don’t want to do that. It will only draw attention to you.”

  “Never said I was going to give them my name. What is their stance on cops being indebted to casinos, anyway? I can’t imagine they look favorably upon it.”

  “All right, you win.” There was an audible sigh on the other end of the line. “Tell me what this is about so I can get rid of you.”

  “That’s more like it.” Harlan stopped pacing and went to the window. The air conditioner unit was chugging away loudly. The noise was distracting, but he liked to stand close to the unit anyway when he was doing shady business. It was unlikely that he was under surveillance, but you could never tell, and the sound would make it harder for bugs to record him. At least, that was what he hoped. “I need some information from you about an incident up at the Ghost Canyon Mine yesterday.”

  “Yeah, I heard about it. Caused quite a stir.”

  “Tell me,” Harlan said. "I'm listening."

  “Well, I’m not part of the investigation and I haven’t seen the report, but apparently three people went and got themselves killed inside the mine. We had two of our own up there, and one of them witnessed the third death. The rest of the search team barely escaped with their lives. Then a couple of Feds showed up and closed us down.”

  “FBI?”

  “Yeah. Pair of stiffs from the Vegas field office. Took charge and sent everyon
e away. Didn’t care that they were stepping on toes.”

  “Tell me more.” Harlan felt a tingle of anticipation. “How did the victims die?”

  “Some kind of animal attack by all accounts. Beyond that, everyone’s keeping it pretty close to the vest.”

  “Dammit,” Harlan cursed. “You haven’t told me much more than I got from the local news.”

  “That’s all I know. I wasn’t at the scene. Sorry.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “It’ll have to be. Like I said, I haven’t seen the report.”

  “Okay. Fine, I believe you.” Harlan let out a frustrated sigh. “Can you find out more?”

  “Maybe. But if I do, we’re even. Deal?”

  “I’ll decide when we’re even. But if you get me that report, it will go a long way toward it.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  “And you might hear it again,” Harlan replied. “Or you might not, if you help me out on this.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” Lawson didn’t sound happy.

  “Perfect.” Harlan stared out the window. He looked down toward the neighboring building, a burger restaurant. He could smell the meat grilling and it made him hungry. “Can you get it to me by morning?”

  “Mercy, Harlan. You don’t want much, do you? I’m not even working right now. My shift ended two hours ago.”

  “Like I care about that,” Harlan said. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

  “Fine. Lawson sounded like he wanted to reach through the phone and throttle Harlan. “Give me until ten am. My shift starts then, but I’ll go in early.”

  “Doesn’t sound like I have much choice.” Harlan stepped away from the window. “Email it to me. You know where.”

  “Yeah, I know where,” Lawson said. “Is that it? We done?”

  “For now.”

  “Great. I’d love to say it was a pleasure talking to you, Harlan, but I don’t like to lie.”

  “Just get the damn report.” Harlan jabbed a finger at the screen and cut the call off without waiting for Lawson to reply.