by Cara Charles
“Don’t move a fucking muscle. We were here two days ago, checking the pile up, smoking the weed he got me for my glaucoma. This log was solid as a rock.”
Dave inhaled slowly, trying to follow Chris’ fading aftershave. “Do you smell it?”
“I do and something else too.” Hal, Kane, and Dave both said out loud.
“Where are his foot prints?”
“Where are his ski tracks, his boot impressions from sitting?”
Hal stood frozen, while he examined the ground.
Their eyes followed.
They began to see evidence of something in the snow.
Kane picked up the fake snow and put it in Hal’s hand.
Hal opened his walkie. “Shit. Bob? Call all the surrounding County Sheriff’s chopper crews. We’ve got two bad guys loose in our mountains. Copy Bob? No time for chatter. Check Paul’s ETA. He’s got to fly in. Call all the private plane owners. Tell them, I think we could have two murderers on our hands. Get the fire crews to block all fire roads off and the roads out of town. No chatter, just copy me?”
“Yes Hal, I copy. This sucks.”
“Copy, that. These fucking sons-a-bitches can’t be far away.”
Because Mavra’s Mammoth Mountain team had short notice and orders to act fast, they’d found out Chris had O.C.D. The local pharmacy didn’t have a prescription for him. His mother could be the supplier. They’d wasted time looking for his meds for confirmation in his house, his car, his work locker, but found nothing. Chris kept meds hidden in the car in two magnetic key holders. But they found them empty, concluding they were for his keys. His O.C.D. had exposed them.
The whole mountain town had heard the S.O.S. They knew Chris, Howie, and Ben never deviated. They were anal about procedure. Because it was Chris, they never had to worry.
Howie walkied Ben. “Ben? The drivers had to be pretty far into the road to see it coming since they could honk that long. Maybe they tried to go off road. Let’s meet in the middle and start from there OK, buddy?”
Ben was so stressed, knowing he’d delegated their lives to an unknown guy, “Allen what’s his name, the new guy... he had to have let them in, Howie! It had to be that asshole. You know? I checked the road one last time to cover our ass and him, and then I headed down the hill. It was clear on my end, and closed, I swear. That bastard is no where to be found.”
“It’s not your fault, Ben. Bring the dogs. Meet me half way. Copy?”
Ben was chocking up and couldn’t talk, “Copy.”
Howie and Ben with the their avalanche dog teams both in their trucks, drove in as far as they could. Howie had gotten his snowmobile off the truck, looked out over the pile, which covered the road eight to ten feet high in places.
Ben reached his pile. Ben let his dogs out of the van and told them to sit and wait for him to off load his snowmobile.
Howie was putting on his gloves when he thought he had heard a snowmobile, again. It wasn’t Ben’s rig. It sounded like it was in front of him but down the hill. Then, there was a dogfight.
‘A dogfight?’
There was a scream, then a yelp. Now, silence. That damn ugly, deadly silence. But Howie knew to wait. Then it started up again and the sound of the snowmobile came closer then passed below him, then faded within twenty seconds, then nothing. He thought he heard a diesel truck start behind him.
“Ben? That you on the snowmobile?”
“No, We’re still unloading. I thought that was you!”
“Negative! Not me! Then someone is out here below me, I’m going after them.”
“Be careful, man. Don’t you dare get close to them.”
“Copy that. I’m packing. Gonna check it out.”
Howie thought for sure, the sound came from the old Forest Service logging road. It will take Ben’s team well over five minutes to get to the midway point on the road. Pulling the dogs in the sled was hard going over the rough snow pack.
“Jesus, Ben! Someone is getting away,” Howie called in.
“Don’t go after them Howie. Please! I don’t want another death on my conscience! You’re alone and you’ve got a wife and kid.”
Howie said into his walkie. “I’ll get as close as I can. I’ll be careful.”
“They can hear you coming, Howie! For God’s sake please wait for me!”
“They’re in a truck Ben.”
“They can still hear you! Howie! Wait for me. I’ve got my rifle.”
“Can’t.”
Ben panicked, “Howie?” Ben watched his avalanche dogs with their noses in the air searching for the scent. Then all at once they all got it and started barking. Ben let Ripples, a Golden his number two out. Ripples knew to only go as fast as Ben and the other dogs in the sled could follow. Ripples barked at Ben to hurry up. He’d wait then carry on with the hunt. The other dogs were jumping up and down dying to get in on the hunt.
About 500 yards in minutes later, Ben let the dogs out of the sled. Another one hundred yards in, the dogs made a beeline for a tree stand with a broken tree, then they barked. Ben searched the trees with his scope. They’d found one of them, but first they all stopped waiting for the command to go ahead, as Ben caught up in the snowmobile.
Usually the dogs couldn’t find an enclosed scent like the victims in the SUV. Not like when a skier was caught in an avalanche. The scent the dogs had found belonged to the guy on the snowmobile. Now Ben heard other team members on snowmobiles were following Ben’s painted tracks to the scene.
Ben commanded the dogs to get back in the sled. Ben put squirts of pink paint on the bottoms of his boots to mark his footprints as he approached the SUV. He watched Ripples check out the far side of the SUV. When Ben came around Ripples was sitting. Not a good sign.
When Ripples saw Ben he jumped to his feet and took a few steps away from the SUV.
“Gotta a scent, Ripples?” He jumped in readiness, telling Ben the direction he wanted to go in. “Good girl! Go. Search. But be careful.”
Ripples took off down the hill, yelping with excitement. His buddies wanted to join him.
“Hello? First Aid is here. Hello? Hello? First aid is here.”
No answer. Ripples had sat down indicting he’d found dead bodies. Ben rounded the corner and saw Allen’s body just outside the open car doors.
“Allen? Allen? Allen? Shit!”
Ben tiptoed closer, staying out of the footprints he saw. Took his carotid over his shoulder. Nothing. Then saw lumps under fresh snow that someone had thrown on top of them. He saw the blond hair of a tail of a large dog. Ben wanted to rush, but followed procedure.
Ben took out his camera and snapped photos of the footprints on one side of the car and the snowmobile tracks leading to them, then away. He saw two sets of footprints beside the tracks, a lone small footprint, like a passenger mounting the snowmobile. The smaller set had stepped inside the larger set trying to confuse the CSI team. Ben knew this was a crime scene, he snapped pictures of boot marks and tracks before they got mucked up, glad now he’d kept the other dogs in the sled.
Ben took a breath, pulled snow off of them, reached inside and took the wrist pulses of the two bodies and the dog’s carotid and found nothing. Determined not to look in their faces, Ben reached higher and took their carotid pulses for a full minute. Nothing. He knew it was a young woman, a teenager perhaps her soft brown hair choked him up. Her dad had tried so hard to save them and so had their dog. There was a bit of a scrap of material in the snow and droplets of blood, a piece of someone’s jacket. Pretty material. Shiny gray. He took several photos of that. He looked at the victims’ jackets. No match. Ben picked it up with a branch and put it in a plastic evidence bag. Howie had been far too quiet too long. Ben was so spooked he was shaking.
“Howie?” Ben called on his walkie.
“Can’t talk,” Howie whispered. “Trying to read their plates on a white Ford diesel long bed with white camper shell, door in back, not a lift gate. Shit. No plates.”
“Damn
it, Howie. They’re not worth making Ann Marie a widow!”
“O.K. Ben. Tell Hal will ya?”
“O.K. I will. I’m at the car. We’ve got four dead. Allen. Two passengers. And their dog. And a blood trail in the snow. And snow mobile tracks leading away from the scene down the hill, your perp probably. Ripples is coming your way.”
Howie was taking pics with his cellphone, he’d stopped creeping toward them on foot, hoping he was in the truck’s blind spot. After the big one and the small one struggled to get the snowmobile into the back, they finally got the snowmobile loaded and Howie hated watching them go.
‘You fucking sons a bitches.’
He turned and ran to his snowmobile hidden behind a tree and gunned it and spun it around. He was so noisy, it didn’t register to Howie the truck had stopped.
A split second after he stepped on the gas, the tree next to him exploded. He ducked and weaved and floored it, keeping in the trees as another shot missed him and another tree shattered. Ben was yelling for him through the walkie. He had to make it to the small ridge up ahead. If one of their bullets got him, he’d be dead and Ben would be right. He moved his head and body as best as he could.
The third shot went through his jacket, just under the armpit.
“Fuckers.”
“Hold still you idiot,” Mavra said firing, missing time and time again. But she was getting used to the moving target, the next shot would get him. She was going for the kill shot.
The ridge was up ahead. If he could get over it crouching to be as small a target as he could, he’d be home free. Howie had to pick his way through the rocks. The snow mobile climbed and as Howie gunned it to jump the ridge, and crouched down, Mavra got him in the thigh as he jumped the snowmobile.
He felt this horrible burn. He didn’t know exactly where he was going but toward Ben if he could. Ah yes the broken tree! He hoped they didn’t get his artery. Howie dropped below the ridge then hoping they couldn’t shoot him in the back, stopped, relieved to be alive and looked at his leg. Ripples was barking in the distance. He heard them speeding away, gravel flying.
“Ripples!” Howie shouted. Ripples!”
Blood was seeping out two sides. He tore off his belt, put a tourniquet on. He looked behind him, in case they left someone behind to finish him off.
“Ben? Where are you? I’m OK,” Howie called on his walkie.
“Are you hit? They were shooting at you. Ripples will find you. Look for the snapped pine tree about 100 yards south of the road.”
“O.K.” ‘Best not to let him know I’m shot ‘til I get there. As long as the adrenalin stays kicked in, I’ll be fine. As long as they didn’t have someone waiting.’ While Howie took his pulse and stood on his wounded leg to test it, he listened for the hunter, heard nothing. He heard the truck in the distance. Howie took his chances, turned and went back down to the road.
On the road, it wasn’t hard to follow the tire tracks. He saw where the snowmobile had turned around, where it was offloaded and reloaded. Ripples found him, and sniffed his leg.
“Good Ripples! Load up!”
Ripples hopped on the back, she and Howie followed the snowmobile tracks up the hill. It was rough going with the avalanche snow to climb. Howie looked at his leg. Bleeding had slowed but it was a timing thing now.
Howie was coming back, thank God. Ben went toward Howie’s sound and Howie stopped close to him.
“Good girl, Ripples! Howie! Thank God. They’re in there. I don’t want to look again.” Then Ben saw the belt tourniquet and blood stained pant leg.
“Yes, the fuckers shot me.” Howie limped over to Ben.
“And you didn’t tell me. Really damn stupid of you. Sit down over here. Now!”
Ben helped him to the crown of the snapped tree far enough from the crime scene and helped him to sit.
“Put pressure on it. While I get the stuff ready. You are one lucky s.o.b. But damn stupid not to tell me! What if you’d passed out?" Ben looked at the grazing flesh wound. He got out his space blanket and supplies. “It’s just a graze. You’ll be OK.” Ben laid Howie down on the blanket and cocoon wrapped him to keep him warm. Ripples lay beside him. Then Ben got medical supplies out of his backpack.
“Did you walkie Hal?” Howie asked.
“Didn’t have a chance.” Ben was concentrating on him now.
“Here. Let me call them while you doctor. Hal? Howie here. The fuckers shot me. I’m O.K. Got Ben here giving me first aid. We’ve found car one. Three DB’s and a dead dog. Hal?”
“Howie! For God’s sake.” Hal answered.
“They’re in a white one ton, long bed Ford diesel truck with camper that has doors not a lift gate, no plates. Going west on the fire road.”
“Copy that. Your first aid team will be there any second. Keep your head covered. And warm. I don’t want you to go into shock. Is Ben OK?”
Ben nodded working on applying the pressure bandage, pulled the hood of Howie’s parka onto his head, then he slowly released his belt after the dressing was firmly in place. Best not to remove any clot.
“Yes sir. I’m too mad for that. We’re here at the car. Ben says there are four dead. Includes their dog, too. Jesus! This was a hit Hal. I heard the dog fighting and from here, I see blood in the snow.” Howie looked at the scene.
Ben added, “And someone grabbed armfuls of snow covering the bodies. Allen’s one of the dead, Hal.”
“Jesus a hit? Why for God sake?” Hal felt the nausea rising, he was sure he was going to puke. Chris had comforted the killers who set the avalanche.
Other members of the team now arrived.
Jeb, another lead man of the rescue team took over, seeing Howie down and Ben busy with him. Jeb reported to Hal as he did his work. Jeb finished taking their pulses, he dusted their faces with a glove, and felt their carotids. Jeb confirmed the Golden was dead, too. As the team members consoled Howie, and others assisted Ben, Jeb gently continued the dusting. Until they were all exposed and he took more pictures.
They all saw the girl and the dog were not smothered or crushed by snow, and photographed that. Sadly they looked peaceful, like they were sleeping. The large branch from the tree had crushed the roof and killed the father.
“Look at her hand, Jeb.” Ben said.
Jeb noticed each had one glove off. You could see the pea sized bruise injection site between their third and fourth fingers. More pictures and close ups of their hands.
They checked out Allen and saw the neck bruise.
“Shit, looks like an injection site here too, doesn’t it? Why would someone go to all this trouble? Someone really wanted to make sure this family was dead. Let’s get away from them now. Call L.A. Mobile CSI. There’s nothing we can do, but love our own hard tonight. You guys tarp the scene. We’ll go find the other car now.” Jeb said.
They tied two tarps over the car to preserve the scene as much as possible.
The snow clouds were building again.
Ben motioned for someone to take over. Ben walked away from the crash site, fell to his knees, and cried as they cordoned off the crime scene with yellow tape.
Jeb put his arm around him.
Howie felt for him.
Ben’s other buddies gathered around him, patting him on the back, him saying, “it’s not your fault man. It is not your fault. Ben? This was a set-up, man. Allen was in on it. They took him out ‘cuz he could I.D. them. You had nothing to do with it. If you’d been on the front gate they’d have taken you out right there.”
That sobered Ben more than anything.
Howie took a breath for courage and got up on his feet and hobbled closer then looked at the victims. He saw Lara, then Boogey. And shook his head. He hobbled back to his blanket and laid back down.
“Holy God. I skied with her yesterday. We shared the lift. Her name is Lara. My God! She was so beautiful and nice. Are you sure she’s...”
Ben and Jeb nodded yes.
Howie yelled at the top of his lungs, �
��Fucking bastards!”
On Keith’s computer screen all the Avalanche Patrol’s GPSs were activated. Chris’ primary was up on the mountain. His spare, close by in China Grove.
“Hal? Chris’ GPSs are transmitting signals for the dogs. Deedee and Dogs. E.T.A., five plus minutes. Chris’ primary is up on the ridge. His spare is in your locale. Turn yours on, please. And Hal. Ben and Howie found the family caught on the road. And Allen is dead at the scene. They’re all dead. It was a hit team. No sign of car two yet. But Jeb’s looking.”
“Ya I heard,” Hal said.
Desiree was numb as she contacted Sid.
Sid had just walked in his house, petted Stanley curled up by the heater, as they talked. He too felt her remorse, and his own. He immediately turned around and went back to the airport. She asked him to fly over the avalanche if he could. Sid had known. His gut never lied.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE — UNCOVERED
“HOWIE’S TRANSPORT en route. L.A. Mobile, inbound. ETA five zero minutes.” Bob said.
“Copy. We’ve got no way to track these fuckers. Compare his spare to my locale,” Hal said as Dave looked at him.
“Walk away from the spot you’re on. Now back. Wow! You’re on top of each other! Same co-ordinates, his GPS is right there. Did he drop it? Deedee will find him Hal,” Keith said.
DEEDEE HAD BEEN the first out of the truck. She sniffed the air, and immediately ran to Chris’s pee spot as her pack followed. She barked at them. She stopped held her nose in the air, and barked at them. They copied her. She was the Alpha female. She turned around several times as did the other dogs and followed the scent to Chris’s gondola. Hal had known to send it back down for the dogs and team.
Many minutes later up on the mountain Deedee jumped out of the sled and ran to Tokin Tree Grove. She ran right to the GPS, dug it up in two swipes then dug up Chris’ phone. The men were stunned and Hal put them in his pocket.
Deedee went right to the log, jumped on it, and barked at Hal and Dave who were horrified. The other dogs ran after the skiers and half the human team followed.
Kane shouting after them, “Be careful. Not much left of the ridge.”