A Buried Body and Barkery Bites

by Aleksa Baxter

  "Fine. Turn around. Just because I have to do this doesn't mean you have to watch."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  As soon as he turned around I quickly stripped off my jeans and t-shirt and threw them in the trash bag and then settled myself into the passenger seat, one hand holding a dish towel across my chest, the other holding one across my lap. I swear, it was more humiliating than those stupid gowns you have to wear at the doctor's office.

  Before I could tell him I was ready, Matt turned back around, bundled the trash bag up, and put it at my feet.

  "I didn't tell you I was done."

  "No. I could see that you were in the reflection from the store window." He winked at me.

  "Matthew Allen Barnes! You peeked." If I hadn't been holding dish towels over the essentials I would've smacked him one.

  He just grinned at me and went back to the store for Fancy.

  I fumed as I waited for them to return. Although, it did tell me one thing—it seemed Matt wasn't always a rule-following, law-abiding saint. Maybe he had a bit of promise after all…

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Before he got into the van Matt took a call that had his face shadowed with worry.

  "Who was that?" I asked when he finally buckled up and started the van.

  "Officer Clark."

  "Everything okay?"

  He grimaced as he pulled onto the highway. "I can't talk to you about this, Maggie. I'm sorry."

  "Was it about Greta? Have they found her? Is she okay?"

  "Maggie…"

  "She's my friend, Matt."

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his lips pressed tight together. "Maybe you should reconsider that, Maggie."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, think about it. Her husband was bludgeoned to death last night. In the middle of the night. She's nowhere to be found. Who else is going to be there at that time of day? Not to mention her first husband was killed and dumped in a field right by your store."

  "But her dog was shot. You've seen them together. Do you honestly think she could do that?"

  "No, I don't. But I do think it's possible that Friedrich tried to defend himself and shot Hans instead of Greta." He glanced at me. "He had gunpowder on his hands, Maggie. He was the one who shot the gun."

  I sat back in my seat, stunned. Could it be? Could Greta have bludgeoned her husband to death because he'd found out about the painting and was never going to let her have it?

  "Who inherits?" I asked, not really wanting to know.

  "We don't know yet. Seems he was notorious for changing his will and he'd been in just yesterday to do so."

  Could she have found out and killed him because of it? Was she capable of that kind of rage?

  I shook my head. "I don't see it. She's not a rage killer, Matt. I'm telling you. She's my friend."

  "That's why I can't talk to you about this, Maggie. I have to see this objectively."

  I sighed. "Fine. Change of subject. How's Jack?"

  He shrugged one shoulder. "No idea. He didn't come home last night. I figure he made a new friend at the Inn and went home with her instead."

  "But he didn't go to the Inn last night."

  "What? What are you talking about?" He pulled the van to the side of the road and turned to stare at me.

  "Matt, what's wrong? Why did you just react like that?"

  "Because Friedrich VanVeldenstein was bludgeoned to death last night, but I figured Jack didn't have any part in it because he was at the Inn getting drunk with his buddies. Now you're telling me he wasn't?"

  "Not according to Evan and Abe. They said he never came in."

  He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. "Damn him. Why couldn't he have just stayed away?"

  He pulled out his phone and called Jack's number, but no one answered.

  I wanted to reach out and comfort him, but both of my hands were still busy holding those ridiculous towels in place. "Look. I'm sure it's fine. Maybe he met someone before he made it to the Inn. He hits on anything that walks. He could've stopped to get gas and started chatting up some girl at the pump and changed his plans. You can't go jumping to conclusions."

  "Yeah. Right."

  He hit the button to check his mail and his phone dinged a moment later. The silence in the car grew heavier and heavier as he thumbed open a message.

  And then it shattered as he started cussing his head off.

  Forgetting my modesty, I moved my hand from my lap and grabbed his arm. "Matt. What on earth is wrong?"

  He glanced at me. "We have to go. Now. I'm sorry. This can't wait."

  He handed me his phone and then threw the van into a U-turn and headed back the way we'd just come while I read the message he'd received:

  Hey bro. In case things go south tonight, I've set this message to deliver to you tomorrow at noon. I'm meeting Wilhelm at the old hunting cabin at ten tonight. Seems that comment I made at the charity event shook him up. I don't know what he's hiding, but if I can get some cash from him to keep it hidden, why not, right?

  If you get this message, something went wrong. Come find me.

  "Oh no," I whispered, watching the way Matt's jaw clenched and unclenched as he nudged the van to ten over the speed limit, his eyes fixed on the road.

  I wanted to tell him it would be okay, but we'd just left a murder scene. I couldn't lie to him. He wouldn't believe me if I did anyway.

  He pulled off the highway onto a rutted road and gunned it. He was speeding so fast down the road I wondered if my shocks were going to survive the journey. Last thing we needed was to hit a particularly nasty hole and lose a tire or something.

  "Um, Matt. I understand that you want to get there as soon as possible and check this out, but maybe we should call backup? Or you could drop me and Fancy off first and run by the station?"

  "He could be dying. I have to get there. Now."

  "Okay. I appreciate that. But, um…" I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm not exactly dressed for a big outing here."

  He glanced my way and grimaced. "Sorry about that. You're just going to have to wait in the van."

  We wound our way up the side of a mountain, large evergreens blocking out the late day sun.

  "I am not going to sit in this van while you go into some remote hunting cabin looking for the body of your brother. That is not happening. I will put back on these bloody clothes before I do that."

  I reached towards the bag of bloody clothes at my feet, but as soon as I opened it Fancy started whining and crying her head off.

  (I'm sure I was flashing all kinds of interesting things Matt's way at that point, but he honestly did not notice. He was laser focused on the road and getting to his brother as soon as possible.)

  "Matt, seriously. Slow down. Call in backup. Handle this like the police officer you are."

  "He's my brother, Maggie. You want to call it in you call it in."

  "Fine." I grabbed his phone, but there was no signal. I pulled out mine. Same thing. "I can't call it in. There's no signal. Turn back around."

  "No."

  "Matt!"

  He spared me a quick glance. "Look. I'd rather know what I'm dealing with before I involve anyone else, okay? I mean…What if…What if it isn't Jack we find in that cabin? What if he didn't come home because he's on the run?"

  "Okay." I nodded. "But I'm going in there with you."

  "In your underwear?"

  I raised my chin. "If I have to. Maybe it'll cheer him up some, you know."

  He snorted. "Probably would."

  He whipped the van down an even more rutted narrow road and then pulled off in front of a small little cabin hidden against the side of the mountain. "My dad used to take us here as kids. Only thing we ever really did together," he said, never taking his eyes off the cabin as he stripped off his uniform shirt and then the t-shirt he had on underneath.

  I know it was a serious situation and we were maybe about to find yet another dead body, but…Well, when a very good-l
ooking man is shirtless and two feet away from you, it's a moment to savor.

  I got a little distracted.

  Matt didn't, though. While my mouth was hanging open and little bits of drool were finding their way down my chin (not really, but close), he tossed me the t-shirt, threw back on his uniform shirt, and rushed for the cabin.

  I scrambled into his t-shirt—which fortunately covered about as much as that little black dress of mine had at the party—leashed up Fancy, and followed as fast as I could.

  Matt had his gun out as he pushed the cabin door open and stepped inside, so I held back, waiting to see what would happen next. I figured Wilhelm wasn't going to be there, but if Jack was…

  Well, I could be there for Matt the way he'd been there for me earlier in the day. But if that wasn't the case, then I needed to stay back and let him do his job.

  He was back outside in a moment. "He's not here."

  "Does it look like he was?" I asked.

  He glanced around. "Yeah. See the tire tracks." He pointed at some tracks hidden by my van as well as another set of tracks. "Those are both recent. And it smells inside. Like bleach."

  I let Fancy tug me towards a nearby juniper bush. I don't know why, but she loves to pee on the pokiest, most uncomfortable plants—rose bushes, cactus, pfitzers…

  "So two men came up here last night and now they're both gone and there are signs someone cleaned up after. Where's the other vehicle? If Wilhelm did something to Jack, what did he do with Jack's truck? And if Jack did something to Wilhelm, then where's Wilhelm's Mercedes? I can't picture either one bringing along an accomplice. And Wilhelm at least doesn't strike me as the type to have a friend who'd bury a dead body for him."

  Matt nodded. "You're right. If it was me, I'd dump the vehicle somewhere nearby before I left." He glanced up the road. "The road dead ends a little ways further. I'll check it out. You stay here."

  I was going to listen to him, but as soon as he started walking up the road, Fancy decided she was going, too, and dragged me along after.

  Matt glared at us, but instead of lecturing me or telling me to turn back he just shook his head and kept walking, his strides so fast I could barely keep up.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  He slowed as we reached the end of the road. We were pretty high up the mountain at that point and I figured the drop off ahead was a pretty big one.

  Neither one of us knew what we were going to find. Was it going to be a fancy Mercedes crushed to bits? Or a pretty nice truck?

  Given the message Matt had received, I was pretty sure it was going to be Jack's truck, but only one way to know.

  "I can check for you," I told him as he paused about five feet from the edge.

  He shook his head. "No. I can do this."

  We both stepped to the edge at the same time. It was the truck, flipped over on its side a couple hundred feet down a steep drop.

  Matt looked ready to scramble down to it, but I grabbed his arm.

  "We need to call for help now, Matt. You can't do this alone. If he's down there and he's alive, he's injured. And you're not going to do him a darned bit of good if you get injured trying to reach him. He needs someone who can get him out of there and get him the medical attention he needs. That's not you."

  He glared at me. "You go back for help. I'm staying here."

  "Promise me you'll stay up here until help arrives."

  He set his jaw, but he nodded.

  "Okay, then. I'll drive the van back down and call 9-1-1 as soon as I have a signal. Where are we?"

  He gave me the information I needed and I jogged Fancy back to the van. (Not an easy feat, by the way. Fancy is NOT a jogger. Not for more than about five feet.)

  I didn't get signal until I was almost back to the highway. I'm sure the operator was not thrilled to hear from me for the second time in one day, but she hid it well. She was a consummate professional as always. I figured after this day I was going to owe her a fruit basket or something. Or a beer. Given the number of times we'd chatted at that point, maybe we were meant to become besties.

  At least she took me seriously and told me an ambulance, fire truck, and police were on the way. I figured that had as much to do with Matt as anything, though. I wasn't above using his name to get the best emergency response I could for him.

  If we were lucky, there'd just be a truck at the bottom of that drop and not Jack. Because I didn't know how someone could've survived that.

  It took about ten minutes for the fire truck to arrive. They were the first ones there. I flashed my lights as soon as I saw them and pointed up the road. They drove past without stopping. Same with the ambulance. But the police car that came after, pulled up next to the van and waved for me to come over.

  Only when I approached the car window and Officer Clark eyed me up and down with an openly astonished look did I remember that I still wasn't wearing any pants. As he opened his mouth to say something suitably obnoxious, I held up my hand to stop him. "Leave it. I don't have time for it right now. Matt's brother, Jack, went missing last night. Their hunting cabin was his last known location. He's not there, but his truck was driven off the road about a quarter mile past the cabin. I left Matt back there and came down to call it in. He needs you there. Now."

  To his credit, Officer Clark nodded and took off towards the cabin immediately.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  After I'd directed everyone towards the cabin, I wasn't really sure what to do. I had Fancy to deal with and no pants on, but Matt was back there and had maybe found his brother's body and I still had his phone and…

  Finally, I decided that whatever was down there it was going to take a bit of time to find it. With Matt on scene there was no one around to pull me over, so I sped home, dropped off Fancy, threw on some pants and a different shirt, gave my grandpa a quick kiss on the cheek and a promise to explain later, and then raced back.

  All told, it took about thirty minutes.

  I found Matt standing at the end of the road watching the fire crew working around the truck. He didn't even flinch as I approached him, his entire attention focused on whatever they'd found.

  "Matt? You okay?" I touched his arm softly and he twitched like I'd brought him back from some other world.

  He eyed me from head to toe. "You went home."

  "Yeah, sorry. I figured there wasn't much I could do here until they got the truck sorted and it would be easier if I had some pants on, you know?"

  "You took off my shirt."

  "Yeah. I…" I blushed. "I figured that would cut off some questions as well."

  He glanced back down the road to where I'd had to park the van. "Did you bring it back with you?"

  I shook my head. I wasn't about to tell him that I'd wanted to keep it because it smelled like his cologne or aftershave or whatever it was. "I forgot. I'm sorry. I'll wash it and get it back to you later."

  He turned away to watch as they flipped the truck over. "That's okay, you can keep it."

  I stepped closer and rested a hand on his shoulder. "So what did they find down there? Was it Jack?"

  "No. Just the truck."

  I frowned. "That doesn't make sense, does it? I mean, if Wilhelm did something to your brother and then ditched the truck, why wouldn't he put your brother inside? That would at least give some chance that someone would think it was a tragic accident. Your brother drives up here at night looking for his old hunting cabin, drives a little too far, and goes over the edge."

  He crossed his arms, but he didn't shrug me off. "You're right. I don't know what happened here. None of it makes sense."

  "Matt, why don't you let me take you home? There's nothing you can do here right now. They'll get the truck out, but if he's not there, then he's still missing. Standing here watching isn't going to help us find him."

  He hesitated a moment but then let me pull him away.

  "Where is he?" he muttered as we walked back to the van, kicking at a large rock that had the misfortune to be in
the middle of the road.

  "Well, what do we know? We're pretty sure he came out here last night to meet Wilhelm who thought he knew something he didn't. Something worth paying to keep quiet from what that email said."

  "Right."

  "But it looks like it was something worth killing for instead."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "The ditched truck. You don't do that if you expect the person to walk away later."

  We reached the van and he leaned against the passenger door, glaring in the direction of the cabin. "But maybe that wasn't the original intent. Maybe Wilhelm was going to pay Jack to keep it quiet."

  "He cleaned the place up. That requires some forethought, don't you think?"

  Matt rubbed his hands through his hair in frustration. "Okay. Fine. Let's assume Wilhelm arranged the meet not to pay off Jack, but to kill him. He brought the supplies to clean up after himself. He figured he'd ditch the truck and Jack and no one would be the wiser. Jack's a drifter, maybe he just took off again."

  "And if he hadn't sent you that email, that's probably exactly what would've happened. Right?"

  He nodded.

  "But there's no body in that truck. Wilhelm cleaned something up, but he didn't ditch the body. Why?"

  Matt stood up straight and looked around, his body suddenly tense. "Because Jack ran. Maybe Wilhelm got in a blow or a shot, but he didn't kill him. Jack's alive. Or at least he was last night."

  "Good. Okay. So Wilhelm hits him or shoots him and he runs. Where does he go? Why doesn't he take the truck?"

  "Can't afford to get into the truck and get it started and back it out. Can't risk having Wilhelm shoot him again." He turned and stared up the mountain. "So he flees into the forest. Wilhelm's not going to follow. He's not a hunter. He's not an outdoorsman. He was probably wearing thousand-dollar loafers and a cashmere coat."

  I smiled slightly at the way his description echoed my own personal disdain for people who dress for the city when they're in the mountains. "Okay. So he runs into the woods. Where? Does he go for the road? Does he hide out? What would you do?"