A Grave Calling

by Wendy Roberts

  Since I figured there’d be hours to do this, I began to separate the emails as I read them and move them to different folders. I made a folder for the crazies and another for the requests for interviews. The majority of the messages could be moved into one of those two files. The third folder I made was dowsing-related requests. People wrote me for help finding lost relatives and some of those messages were from far away. A mom in Australia offered to pay for my travel to help locate the remains of her son. There was a man who wanted help finding the body of his dad who was an Alzheimer’s patient who’d wandered into a Colorado forest the year before. Some offered me huge sums of money. Others said they couldn’t afford to pay at all. I felt like I should reply to each and every one but I didn’t know how or what to say so I just moved their messages into a folder marked Jobs.

  Halfway through the couple hundred emails there was one I recognized. It was Jonas from work:

  Hey there, I tried texting and calling but never got a reply. I’m thinking either A) you lost your phone or B) there are so many crazies calling you stopped checking your phone or C) you just hate me. If it’s C then you don’t have to reply. I just wanted to say I heard about all the stuff and wow and holy cow you should’ve told me about that dowsing stuff if it’s true. I don’t know if it’s true because you never mentioned it and I try not to believe everything I see on the news. Anyway, I’d still like to go for coffee or something sometime if your answer isn’t C. By the way, I know you love how good I look in my glasses. I’m attaching a picture of my new ones. Chill, Jonas

  The attached picture was a silly shot of him wearing goofy nose glasses that had a mustache and made him look like Groucho Marx. I burst out laughing and replied immediately:

  Thanks for emailing and not giving up on getting hold of me! The reason is a cross between A and B and definitely not C. I would love to go for coffee sometime when things get less crazy. Hugs, Julie

  It was the best moment of a few lousy days. After I hit Send I went back to sorting the other messages. After a while I got up from the chair and stretched. The sun was streaming through a crack in the brown drapes. I opened them a smidgen wider and peered out into the parking lot. There were only a handful of cars. I wished that I had my Jeep so I could hop in and take off. Of course that would be breaking rule number two and Jill would have an absolute bovine. Then again for all I knew she might not ever come by again. She never said for sure and, for all I knew, this could all be over by tomorrow.

  I opened the phone she provided and looked through the contacts. Hers and Gramps were the only ones listed. When I called Gramps he was out of breath. He and Wookie had been out chasing rabbits.

  “He caught one, Julie,” Grams said excitedly. “He caught it in his mouth and ran back to show me and then you know what he did?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “He just dropped it at my feet and watched it run away!” Gramps howled with laughter and I joined him.

  “I guess he is not the great hunter you like to pretend he is,” I said.

  “That’s a fact. So what’s happening with you today?”

  “Nothing. A lot of nothing. I’m going to go crazy if I stay in this room much longer.” I ran my fingers through my hair and was reminded of how little hair I had left. “Are the reporters still bothering you?”

  “Not much. They put up one of those temporary fences at the end of our driveway. It’s a pain in the ass to move it if I want to drive out but you’ve put so much food in my freezer I don’t think I’ll need anything for a while.”

  “Have you heard from Agent Pierce again?” I asked, holding my breath and hoping there’d be a yes, but he said that he hadn’t heard from him since yesterday morning when he’d promised to send reinforcements.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have his phone number written down there anywhere, would you?”

  “I might have taken it down here somewhere. Hold on.”

  He put the phone down. I could visualize him shuffling around the kitchen where he always had a collection of junk mail, notes and flotsam. I worried my lip with my teeth while I waited for him to come back.

  “Found it,” he announced and rattled off the number.

  I jotted it down on the back of a receipt at the bottom of my purse and told Gramps to feel free to call me if he needed anything.

  “Your number doesn’t come up on call display. What is it?” he asked.

  I had to admit I didn’t know and then I just gave him Jill’s number and told him to contact her or Pierce if there was an emergency and, meantime, I’d call as often as I could.

  After I hung up I stared at that piece of paper and memorized Pierce’s number. Twice I started to send him a text and then stopped. Jill had said he would contact me if he needed me.

  “Ugh.”

  I blew out a breath and pushed the phone away. If I had a way of getting around and if I knew when Jill was coming, I’d sneak off for a few hours just to clear my head. Grabbing the phone again I fired off a text.

  Jill, do you plan on coming by?

  She replied almost instantly: Yes. Is there a problem?

  I considered my reply and then typed: It’s noisy here at night. Could you bring earplugs?

  She replied saying she would be here soon and not to open the door until she texted that she was on the other side.

  It was almost an hour later when I saw a shadow pass by the crack in the drapes and then the phone chimed with a text saying to open the door.

  “Earplugs, huh?” She tossed me a package of them as she walked in the door. “Most people ask for a ton of other stuff like junk food or pizza or clothes, and you ask for earplugs.”

  Damn. I should’ve asked for pizza and maybe socks.

  “Thanks,” I said, holding up the earplugs.

  “I brought you some more junk food and fruit.” She put down a bag and I thanked her again.

  “How goes the, you know, case?”

  “It’s puttering along.” She shrugged and looked around the room. “We’ll catch him. It’s just a matter of time before he screws up.”

  “Hopefully soon before another girl dies,” I said.

  “That would be good,” she admitted.

  She stood there in the doorway looking around and then stepped over to close the drapes so that even that tiny sliver of light would not shine through.

  “I know you’re probably going stir-crazy here so I appreciate your patience.” She looked at her phone and frowned. “Jesus, they expect me to drive down to Olympia now.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I was in Olympia once. It’s pretty there.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll be in the inside of a motel like this.” She pointed a finger at me. “Nothing to do with this case though.” She put her phone back in her pocket and her hand on the door. “Gotta run. If you think of anything else you need, let me know. I might make it back later today or I might not.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  Then she hastily added, “But don’t leave here, though, no matter what. I mean that. If I get tied up I might just send another agent to check on you so you’d better be around.”

  I nodded but I could tell she was just bluffing. She didn’t want me leaving but I doubted she’d send anyone else. The second she was gone I went to the window and watched through the drapes as her car peeled out of the lot. Then I opened my laptop and checked to see how long the drive was from here to Olympia. Almost two hours so it would be at least four before she could make it there and then back. I closed the laptop and heard the roll of the laundry cart going by outside my room. I jumped up and opened the door a crack.

  “You want your room cleaned?” the lady asked.

  “No, but maybe I could just have more coffee?”

  She grabbed a couple of pouches of the horrible coffee and handed them ove
r.

  “And more of those little shampoos and soaps?”

  She handed me a fistful of toiletries and I thanked her.

  “Do you know if there’s a car rental place nearby?” I asked.

  “In town I’m sure.” She pointed down the highway in the direction of the town a couple miles away. “Also, the guy who runs the garage next door.” She hooked her thumb to indicate a business on the other side of the parking lot. “His name is Sid. Sometimes he has old cars he will loan you for twenty bucks for a day.”

  “Really? Thanks so much,” I replied and meant it.

  In a whirl I showered and dressed. I pulled on my blue-framed glasses and ball cap and, after a swift look right and left down the outside corridor, left the motel room. The air was cool but the sun felt glorious on the back of my neck as I jogged across the lot.

  When I walked into the garage office, a heavyset man with Sid embroidered across filthy mechanic coveralls gave me a cursory glance.

  “Yeah?”

  “I was wondering if you had a car I could borrow.”

  “Twenty a day. I’ve got one left if you can drive a stick. Otherwise you’re shit outta luck.”

  “Yeah, I can,” I said.

  He wiped meaty palms across his stomach and pulled out a piece of paper.

  “Write down your name, address, phone number and driver’s license number.”

  I hesitated and then filled out the form under my seldom used name, Delma Arsenault, and gave my home address and Gramps’s phone number because I didn’t want him calling my old cell since Jill had that. He took the paper back and asked for a credit card.

  “I thought I’d just pay you cash.”

  “You sure will pay me cash, darlin’, but the credit card is in case you don’t bring it back.”

  Opening my wallet I found my Visa and handed it to him hoping he wouldn’t notice it wasn’t in the same name as I’d written on the form. If he did see the difference, he didn’t mention it. He handed back the card and asked for the money.

  He stuck the twenty in the pocket of his coveralls and reached in a drawer for some keys.

  “Garage closes at six. Have it back by then or I have to charge you another day.” He handed me the keys. “It’s the green Camry out back. Fill up the tank before you bring it back.”

  The Camry was late nineties, jade green with some old front-end damage but it ran just fine. I got on the highway and headed north. With lack of a better plan I figured I’d drive an hour north and return to Dakota Creek where we’d had no luck finding the body of Kari Burke. My purse was on the passenger seat and my dowsing rods fit snugly inside. I blasted the radio and sang along, glad to be free of the confines of that small motel room and enjoying the bit of rebel freedom. The feeling was short-lived when I exited the highway and tried to head in the direction where Pierce and I had stopped. There was a barrier up and a flag person directing people down a detour.

  I pulled off to the shoulder, climbed out and lowered the brim of my ball cap to cover a lot of my face and shield my eyes from the sun.

  “You can’t go that way,” the flag person told me. “You gotta take Enterprise farther on or turn onto Delta Line Road.”

  “How come it’s closed?”

  I could just make out a cluster of vehicles in the distance. Dark sedans that made me wonder if Agent Pierce was there.

  “Who knows?” She shrugged and then walked over to me. “I think they’re looking for one of those girls. You know, the missing ones.”

  “Oh really.” I lowered my face. “They find one?”

  “I doubt it because they’ve been at it for two days now. They brought out the dogs and everything.”

  “Well, shit, I was hoping to do some fishing in Dakota Creek.”

  “Yeah, well that’s not the best spot anyway. You wanna go back that way.” She pointed back the way I came, then leaned in and whispered even though there was nobody else around, “Take Custer north and you’ll see an old red barn on your right. Once you see that, you’re close to where the South Fork of Dakota Creek meets up with the North Fork. That’s where you’ll find the sweet spot. Right there on the muddy banks.”

  I thanked her and climbed back into the Camry. As I turned around I reached inside my purse, took out my rods and lay them on my lap. I turned onto Custer and started looking for the red barn she mentioned. I kept telling myself there was a reason there was a crowd of sedans at the other location of Dakota Creek. Pierce had said he’d received a tip about that area. Then again, I remembered him also receiving information about Luna Quinn and I stomped all over that field for half the day and then we’d found her body in a different area on our way back.

  The red barn cropped up on my right just as the flag person said and I slowed. The road was narrow with no shoulder where I could safely stop, but I rounded a bend and there was a wide pull-out. I grabbed my rods and phone then locked my purse in the trunk and started walking.

  From where I parked there was a path leading into the bush and you could hear rushing water. It was as good a place as any to start. I glanced at the time on the phone and realized to be safe I shouldn’t stay out here more than an hour in order to make it back, return the car and high-tail it back up to my room in case Jill did decide to return promptly after her drive to Olympia.

  The path was smooth and barely muddy since we’d had a couple dry days. I asked myself if I was carrying a dead body would this be too far to come. The path was downhill and not at all treacherous. You could drag a heavy load down this way and you’d be invisible from the road. The air was so crisp it stung my nose a little when I breathed in deep the scent of cedar and the musty smell of a nearby dogwood tree. I kept my rods out front but they didn’t flinch or tremble.

  After a half hour, I gave up on the area and walked back to the car. I wish I’d thought to bring a water bottle and a snack but I’d stop at a store if I found one. I’d only driven another hundred yards when I realized I was in a ritzy residential neighborhood. No wonder I didn’t find a body where I’d been, it was a high-traffic location. I pulled over at a small corner store and grabbed some chips and a Coke. When I climbed back in the car, I pulled out my map.

  “Think. Think.”

  The old map didn’t include the new development but I traced my finger along the expanse of Dakota Creek as I sipped the Coke. A vague sickly memory tickled the back of my mind. After her birthday party Katie had given me the chain and the crystal. She said it was junk and I could have it. The next morning before school Grandma walked into my room and caught me with the crystal poised over a piece of paper that said yes on one side and no on the other. She was furious about my “witching ways” and slammed me against the wall and tugged the chain around my neck. It would’ve strangled me but it was cheap and broke, which infuriated her even more. Over and over she slammed my head into the wall until Gramps walked in and quietly told Grandma he was taking me fishing. It was the only time he’d ever interfered in one of her rages. We’d made our way to Dakota Creek and I watched him reel in salmon. I would clap and laugh with glee whenever he caught another. He’d tried to show me how to cast but my arm hurt. After a while he took a look at my wrist and sighed. It was broken. We went to the small local hospital and Gramps told them I tripped while fishing. He wouldn’t look me in the eye afterward and wouldn’t sign my cast.

  I closed my eyes and thought about that location. He’d called it his secret fishing spot. It was under an old trestle bridge and near a gravel pit. The phone they gave me did not allow me to do a search. I walked back inside the corner store and asked the old guy working there if there was still an old trestle bridge nearby.

  “The bridge is still there but the road doesn’t go over it anymore,” he said.

  “Oh.” I sighed. “I was just going for a drive and remembered it was an old fishing spot
where my grandpa took me.”

  “I know the spot well.” He gave me a gap-toothed grin. “Caught a huge steelhead there one time. You follow the road back to the highway about a quarter mile and you’ll see the turnoff for the old road. It’s got a concrete barrier there now but after the block, the old road still leads to that bridge.”

  I thanked him and walked back to my car. I opened the bag of salty chips and nibbled as I drove with the rods resting on my lap. I didn’t have my hopes up about that area. It was ten years ago and with all the construction there was a good chance I’d miss it even if I knew where to look. Plus, if the road was no longer accessible it wouldn’t exactly be the easiest way to bring a body, even if you were a messed-up killer hell-bent on tossing a ribbon-clad girl over a bridge. I shuddered at the thought.

  Almost immediately I saw a sign showing the road back to the interstate. Only a quarter mile later the new road I was on carried on straight while parallel you could see an older road swallowed by trees. The road I was on passed a briefly forested area and curved over a small bridge. The rods twitched in my lap and I slammed on my brakes. A pickup truck driver behind me leaned on his horn and accelerated around my car as I pulled off to the side.

  Licking my lips, I looked over my shoulder and slowly backed up over the bridge. Again, the rods twitched to the right. A few yards before the bridge I’d completely missed the pull out with the concrete barriers just like the guy in the store said. The bush was thick around the area, and if the rods hadn’t twitched I would’ve continued on by. Now I backed into that drive until the bumper of the Camry touched the concrete barrier.

  My hands shook a little as I picked up the rods and climbed out of the car.

  “You got this,” I told myself.

  I stepped around the three-foot-high concrete barrier and headed down what used to be the old road. Only a few feet in and the old road curved just enough that I was hidden from view of anyone passing by. Hundred-foot cedar trees rustled in the slight breeze, and my rods vibrated with unleashed energy as if pulling me forward. The old road went up the trellis bridge but there was a chain fence in front of the entrance and a huge white sign with red lettering stating Bridge Closed.