Wilson followed the stick with his eyes while shifting in his chair. He seemed to consider for a moment, before continuing without speaking to my face. “My friend works in the sheriff’s office and has kept me up to date on the murders.”
“Murders? You mean murder, don’t you? Or is the sheriff not buying Appleton’s suicide?”
He seemed relieved when Fred tired of the stick game and went off to chase Chatter. Wilson now gave me his full attention when he spoke. “My source tells me you don’t believe Appleton killed himself, and you think those damn kids had something to do with it. So if you’re correct, it is murders with an S.”
Wilson was no longer playing defense, and knew it as he sat waiting for my response while stroking his goatee, and reading my face. Either he had been a psychologist at one time, or spent enough time with one, for it made me consider telling him everything I knew and suspected, but something made me hold back. It was like when a telemarketer calls unannounced and starts asking personal questions. I didn’t know this guy except from the book signing, and I didn’t feel comfortable.
“I don’t remember saying that to the Jeffco deputy. Your source must have got it from Deputy White over in Park County. Is that where your friend works?”
“No, she works in Golden. I can only guess that White and Jeffco are sharing info on the case. White must have reported your suspicions. So it’s true then?”
“So it is written, so it shall be,” I replied.
Wilson cracked a small smile. “You mean ‘So it shall be written. So it shall be done.’ don’t you? The Ten Commandments has got to be one of my favorite movies of all time.”
“Is that where I heard it? Sorry, I’m not as old as you. I think I’ve only seen that movie once or twice on television when I was a kid, but you got my point. If Appleton killed himself, then Moses loved BLT sandwiches.”
Wilson had to laugh. “You have a way with words, Jake. Have you ever considered writing as a career? I’ll have to tell my Jewish friends that one.”
I couldn’t decide whether to thank him or say something sarcastic. Doesn’t this guy know I am a writer?
Fred had returned without his stick or squirrel and lay down by my feet. Wilson didn’t seem as bothered by Fred as he was before. “So will you help me, Jake? I can pay you for your time.”
The mention of pay not only got my attention, it got Fred’s, too. He raised his head and stared at Wilson. It must have been the pleading in Wilson’s voice.
“I’d like to help you, Paul, but I’m a little busy at the moment.” I didn’t bother to confide I’d be busy committing another felony.
“Besides the money, which would be substantial, you might also recover that book Appleton stole from you.”
“My copy of Tom Sawyer? You think those kids had it?”
He knew he had me hooked, I could see it in his Hannibal Lecter smile. “According to my source, Cory’s backpack is still in the cave, and I think you will find both our books in it. That’s what I want you to get.”
“Hold on, pilgrim. Unless I’m losing all my marbles, you were asking me if White mentioned finding anything in the backpack the last time you were here. Now you’re telling me it’s still in the mine?”
“That was before my friend told me it wasn’t recovered. He only knew it existed.” His response was too quick for it to be a lie.
“How would your source know that?” I asked, noting that he was no longer salivating over the thought of fresh meat now that Fred was watching him. “I mean, wouldn’t the rescue team, or whoever pulled the kids out of the mine, have retrieved the backpack too?”
“The backpack wasn’t with the kids. It fell to a lower level. The mine shaft has several levels that were built out of wood and the wood rotted out years ago, making it too dangerous for the rescue team to go after the backpack.”
“But it’s not too dangerous for me?”
Wilson let out a short laugh that sounded more like a snort. “It’s the bureaucracy. They’re so afraid of OSHA and a thousand other rules, they couldn’t go after it without somebody higher up signing off, and that might take weeks. I’m sure someone as fit as you would have no trouble climbing down there on a rope and get the backpack before they do.”
He had trouble looking me in the eyes again, which made me wonder how much of his story was pure fiction. “Well, I suppose it won’t hurt to check it out.”
***
Wilson did all the talking after I accepted his retainer and told him what he needed to know about Cory and Jennifer, leaving out incriminating details like how Fred found Bonnie’s manicure kit in the kids’ trash, and the bloody shirt from Appleton’s cabin.
The five hundred dollar check he gave me would go a long way to catching up my bills and buying dog food. But little did he know I would have gone after the backpack anyway. He had no idea how much Julie’s copy of Tom Sawyer meant to me, so when he told me he wanted me to go back to the mine where the kids fell to their death, I didn’t argue. I did ask what was in the backpack besides books, but all he would say was it would prove he had nothing to do with the kids’ death.
Wilson finally left around noon, making it too late to head for Mosquito Pass. As badly as I wanted to get going, I also needed to put Wilson’s check in the bank before he changed his mind. We would start out early the next morning now that I no longer had to search Appleton’s cabin, but that plan would change later that night when my homemade alarm stopped working.
It was the silence that woke me at two in the morning. I had become used to the radio going on and off every few minutes, and fallen sound asleep, but woke with a start when my subconscious told me something was wrong. I went out to the kitchen where I had placed the radio, and saw the headlights of a car backing out of Bonnie’s drive.
With shotgun in hand, and attack dog at my side, I crept down to Bonnie’s house. I went up her back stairs while Fred ran around to the front. I knew the intruder was gone, so I didn’t worry about Fred not being armed. He probably knew it too, for he didn’t so much as growl on our trip down the hill.
I tried shining my flashlight into Bonnie’s kitchen, just to make sure we were alone, before joining Fred on the front porch. He was sniffing at the deck rail, where I had placed my camcorder, and turned to bark at me when he saw me. I couldn’t see much in the moonless night, but soon discovered why he greeted me that way. My camcorder was gone. Further investigation showed the extension cord had been unplugged, and Bonnie’s flower pot had been moved again.
We spent the next thirty minutes checking Bonnie’s house before locking everything up and heading home. Nothing was out of place and I didn’t see anything that wasn’t supposed to be there, so we went on home after plugging the extension cord back in. I could hear my radio immediately, and realized that must have been what alerted the would-be burglar.
***
“And he took your camcorder?” Bonnie asked when I called her to tell her about the failed burglary. She was staying with Margot in Cherry Creek since being released from the hospital, and had called me several times to ask about my progress, but each time I had nothing new to report–until now.
“If it is a he,” I answered. “Maybe it’s the gray haired lady again. We’ll never know now, will we? I wish I wasn’t so cheap and had bought a real surveillance system.”
“It’s not Patty, Jake.”
If only I could see her face, I’d know for sure if she was mad or joking. “I know, Bon, you already told me. Patty doesn’t drive.”
“Too bad he took your camcorder. Then we would know for sure.”
“Well, whoever it was, he or she is going to be in for a real shock next time they come snooping,” I wished she could see my face. I had just thought of a way to get even, and the expression on my face must have made me look like Batman’s Joker.
The pause on Bonnie’s end told me she didn’t understand. “I mean that literally, Bon, so don’t touch the doorknob until I deactivate my little surprise.�
�
“What?” she asked.
“I’m going to wire your door to the household current. Whoever touches it will be knocked flat.”
“Please don’t do that, Jake. It would be my luck the perpetrator will die of a heart attack and his family will sue me for everything I’ve got.” She did have a point; there were far too many instances lately where homeowners got in trouble for protecting their property.
In the end, I was able to reset my Rube Goldberg surveillance system with a camcorder Bonnie had that was even older than mine. This time I used my twenty-foot extension ladder to put the camera in a tree where it couldn’t be removed unless the intruder happened to be the offspring of Big Foot, or have a ladder of his own. I also hid the extension cord in the gutter so it wasn’t so obvious.
With my ladder locked up in my tool shed, Fred and I were finally on our way to Mosquito Pass.
By the time we passed Pine Junction, I knew we were not alone.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
This time I didn’t stop at the service station in Fairplay. I didn’t need the nosy owner calling his brother-in-law, Deputy White, to alert him of my presence. But I did need to check out who was following us, so I waited until I passed the station before pulling over to the side of the road.
My paranoia told me it was Craig Renfield. The car had been too far away to tell for sure, but I was pretty sure it was his beat-up Toyota. The driver pulled into the gas station but didn’t get out to pump gas. He must have been surprised when White’s brother-in-law came out to do it for him. I wasted no time in getting back on the road before he could follow us again.
***
I seemed to have lost the car by the time I turned onto Mosquito Gulch Road. Not that it would matter; the old Toyota couldn’t possibly make it up the pass.
Several ATVs and dirt bikes raced by me belching blue smoke from their two-cycle motors and spraying my windshield with rocks and dirt as I approached the spot where Bonnie and I had parked the last time we were here. There was some kind of off-road rally going on, or school must have let out for summer vacation. Either way, it was impossible to park on the road because of the traffic, so I put the old Wagoneer in four-wheel drive and left the road, heading for the mine.
Nobody seemed to notice our ascent up the side of the hill, for no one bothered to follow us. Perhaps the slope was too steep for them, but more likely they couldn’t see me past the clouds of dust they were creating.
The ground leveled off into what was once a mule trail just below the mine where a huge pile of tailings was created by some poor soul who had dug it out so many years ago. From there the trail went up the hill another hundred feet or so by cutting switchbacks into the side of the mountain until it wound its way to the top of the tailings. It was far too steep and narrow for my Jeep, so I parked, and would have to walk the rest of the way. Fred was out of the Jeep and sniffing the ground the minute I opened the door. The scent led him up the trail and out of my sight.
He couldn’t know the floor inside the mine had collapsed, sending Cory and Jennifer to their deaths. I didn’t want the same thing happening to my best friend, and ran after him.
I was gasping for air when I made it to the top, but found the breath to call him. “Fred! Get back here this instant.”
His head poked out of a dark hole in the side of the mountain.
“Come here, boy,” I pleaded, bending down to his level. To my relief, he ran toward me, and planted a big, wet kiss on my face.
“Can you be a good boy and stay out here while I check on that mine?” I asked, once I wiped off my face.
Fred sat on his haunches and barked. “Good, boy. Now, stay,” I said, and headed toward the entrance.
The yellow police tape stretched across the opening didn’t stop me; I was just glad it couldn’t be seen from the road where someone might see me breaking the law. I turned on my flashlight, stepped inside, and crept toward what used to be an old wood floor. Now it was just a hole in the ground with slivers of decaying wood around the perimeter that resembled rotten teeth waiting to devour their next victim. It looked like the mouth of the three-headed dog guarding the gates of Hell I had seen in a Greek Mythology class. I was trying to recall the creature’s name when Fred came up behind me, nearly making me drop my flashlight.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay outside?” I asked, grasping my chest. “Do I need to tie you to the Jeep?”
Fred barked, ran back toward the entrance, then turned around to look at me, and barked again. The hair along his spine looked like porcupine quills.
I hurried back to the entrance and grabbed his collar when he started to growl. “What is it, boy? Is someone out there?”
Fred acted like he’d seen a Yeti and wanted to eat him for lunch. I couldn’t see any snowmen or anyone else, so I went to the edge of the tailing pile for a better look. I began to wish I’d brought binoculars. Maybe Fred could see something I couldn’t. The four-wheelers had moved on, along with their dust, but there was someone parked on the road. A chill ran up my spine when I thought I recognized the car that had been following us earlier. It had to be my overactive imagination, for I knew there was no way a two-wheel-drive sedan with only inches of ground clearance could have come this far. It was probably a vehicle belonging to one of the off-roaders or some hikers. I finally convinced myself that was what Fred must have heard, and went back to the mine.
For some stupid reason, the name Cerberus popped into my head when I saw the splintered floor again. It was the name of the dog guarding Hades I couldn’t remember earlier. The shaft consisted of a series of platforms with a ladder between each level. The rescue workers didn’t risk the danger of going below the level where they found the kids. It was a wonder the second platform didn’t collapse from the impact of their fall.
Paul Wilson said the pack had fallen to a lower level. Only a fool would have gone any further, and while I never claimed to be a genius, I had a trump card most fools didn’t. My Jeep had a winch with two hundred feet of cable I could use to lower myself into the pit. There was no question in my mind about retrieving the backpack. All I had to do was get the Jeep up to the mine without killing myself.
I let Fred play sentry, watching for Yeti, while I climbed back down to my Jeep and prepared to climb the pile of tailings. Going up the mule trail was out of the question because of the narrow switchbacks. The Jeep could never make those turns without tumbling sideways. The only option was to make it climb straight up the tailing pile and over the top. The ancient Jeep had manual lock-out hubs and a little switch in the glove compartment that would make all four wheels spin when needed. Unlike modern four-by-fours, where only one wheel per axle worked, the old Quadra-track’s used all their wheels.
No sooner had I started my ascent than I felt the Jeep going sideways. I began to wish I had used the winch to pull it to the top instead, but it was too late. Rocks and gravel were flying everywhere, and I was within seconds of the Jeep rolling down the hill and squashing me like the bug this place was named for.
My first instinct was to let up on the gas, but I knew that would be suicide, so I turned the wheel in the opposite direction of the slide, and floored the gas pedal. The tires bit into the gravel and propelled the Jeep to the top, like I knew what I was doing. Fred was a lot smarter than his master and had stayed behind to watch the show from a safe distance.
All of a sudden I heard hooting, horns, and whistling. The off-road riders had returned and stopped to watch the idiot in his old Jeep try to kill himself. The last thing I needed now was for one of them to leave the road and come up to join us. I didn’t worry about another four-wheeler trying it, but motorcycles were something else. I knew if we stayed here, it would be only minutes before one of the dirt-bike riders came to see if we needed help, so I summoned Fred into the Jeep, and pretended to leave.
The mule trail lead away from the mine and on toward Leadville, so I put the Jeep back into regular four-wheel drive, and acted like climbing the
tailing had simply been to gain access to the trail. I didn’t have to go far before we were out of sight from the riders below where I stopped the Jeep and waited.
Fred jumped out and ran over to some rocks. The trail had been cut through an ancient landslide and there were rocks and boulders on both sides of it. I saw a creature scoot from under one pile and run for cover under another. It looked like a marmot, but Fred must have thought it was Chatter. I was so intent on watching the show that I nearly jumped out of my skin when my cell phone went off.
“Jake?” It was a voice I knew well.
“Bonnie! How are you?”
“Where have you been, Jake? I’ve been trying to get you all day.”
“I’m up on Mosquito Pass. Reception up here is pretty bad. I’m surprised you got me now.”
“What are you doing up there?”
“Enjoying the view while Fred chases Chatter’s cousin. You should see it, Bon. I found a little mule trail that must have been cut into the mountain by whoever dug the mine. I can see all the way to Leadville from here.”
“Are you crazy, Jake? Two people already lost their lives in there. Please don’t make it three.”
“It’s already three, don’t forget Drake. He was the first.”
When she didn’t respond quickly enough, I knew without the benefit of seeing her face that she didn’t like my wise-aleck reply. “Sorry, Bon Bon. I appreciate your concern, but Wilson thinks the kids had Julie’s copy of Tom Sawyer and I’ve got to get it back.”
“Please don’t go in there, Jake.”
“It okay, I’ll lower myself with my winch so there’s no danger of falling. Now tell me why you called. Are you okay?”
“I called to see if you wouldn’t mind coming to get me. Margot is driving me crazy. She won’t let me smoke, and doesn’t have a drop of booze anywhere.”
I laughed. “Is she there, Bon? I’d like to talk to her.”
Bonnie hesitated. Was I that transparent? “She’s not my mother, Jake. You don’t need her permission.”
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