Crystal Creek

by Malmborg, William

  "Hey, look at this," Brian said.

  Alice walked over.

  "Someone was here and it looks like they grabbed something from the table."

  Alice studied the smear and said, "A book maybe?"

  "Or something similar in size."

  "You know what else was taken?" Alice said.

  "What?"

  "All the lanterns and candles."

  Brian looked around and realized she was right. "Why would someone take all that?"

  "I don't know, to light their own place? Didn't you say there were several abandoned homes around here? Maybe whoever is running around dressed as Bigfoot is living in one of them and likes to have light at night."

  "Makes sense," Brian said.

  "Of course, it makes you wonder, if they are working with Cheryl or someone who has something to gain in all this, why wouldn't that person just provide them with candles for light, or a place to stay? This entire thing is bizarre."

  Brian nodded in agreement.

  "And what in the world was on that side table? I keep thinking a book, but why would a book be snatched up?"

  "Maybe he kept a journal," Brian suggested.

  Alice didn't reply to that.

  "Or…oh shit, I know what it could have been!"

  "What?" she asked.

  "Whoever it was that screamed as if they were him also fired his rifle several times. To do that, they would need bullets. How much do you want to bet that someone like Marlon would keep bullets lying around, say in a box on the side table?" He needlessly pointed at the table.

  "Hm, that would explain why there is no dust starting to cover the smeared area—if they grabbed it yesterday before you got up here."

  "That has to be it," Brian said, the idea sticking in his mind in such a way that he simply knew it was correct. "Now the question is, who grabbed it and why did they want to stage the body in such a way?"

  "Good question." Alice paused for a second. "Let's go look at where the body was found."

  Brian led the way from the cabin into the trees.

  Alice followed, the two eventually emerging into the rocky clearing.

  Brian pointed to where the body had been.

  Rather than walk over to the area, Alice turned back to the trees and said, "It was from here going back to the house that got you two lost?"

  "Yeah."

  "How?"

  Brian shrugged.

  "Do you think she purposely got you lost?"

  "Why would she do that?"

  "I don't know, but going from the house to here and from here to the house shouldn't be enough to get someone lost. Is it?"

  "All I know is we ended up spending several hours walking down the mountain until we got to her house and then drove back up the mountain with the chief so we could show him the body."

  "Which was then gone when you got back."

  "Yep," he said, even though she wasn't really asking.

  "I wonder where it went," she said. "Where would you go with a body around here?"

  Brian lifted his hands and slowly twisted around. "Ten minutes in any direction."

  "Maybe to hide it for a few hours, but to actually make it so it wouldn't be found, I'm thinking it would take a bit more than that, and since you and Cheryl were only gone for what, like two hours, it had to be somewhere within that time frame from this point."

  "It was more like three to three and a half hours, and honestly, that would be a hell of a lot of ground to cover from here."

  "Yes, if you were aimlessly searching, but whoever did this had to have a spot in mind, some place that they were going to take the body, which means there should be some sort of area around here that would stand out once we came upon it."

  "I don't think we should start walking around the woods without any idea of where we're going. It might seem impossible to get lost between here and the car, but once we start venturing off into other directions, I think the odds of getting lost increase dramatically."

  Alice stared at the woods for a while, almost as if weighing the odds, and then said, "Yeah, you're probably right." She paused. "We should get someone who knows this area to guide us."

  "Who? The only person I can think of would be Chief Parker, but after yesterday I doubt he is in any condition to go on a trek through the woods."

  "What about Cheryl?"

  Brian blinked with disbelief.

  "We could make her think we still trust her despite what happened earlier and see what happens when she's back up here."

  "And if she lures us into a trap?"

  "I don't think that will happen. If they wanted you out of the way, I think they would have done something to you either here in the clearing or while you were lost. In fact, if it wasn't for the body and you seeing something resembling Bigfoot, I would say they were trying to keep you from learning what was going on, which is why they lied to you about Annie having a reservation."

  Brian thought about this.

  "We should talk to the chief. Find out what he thinks about all this. How badly was he hurt?"

  "He was knocked on the head pretty good. I think he lost consciousness for a bit and then was really out of it while we were driving back."

  "Then I think it is safe to say he is not a part of this, not if he was hit that hard."

  "But what about Cheryl? She was attacked and dragged into the woods and almost raped."

  "Yeah, but she wasn't actually hurt and managed to get away without any outside help. That could easily have been staged."

  "Maybe, but I'm almost certain her reaction to the lack of blood with Marlon Gibbs wasn't. She was shocked. No one can pull off a look like that without it being the real deal."

  Alice looked around and then asked, "Which way was she dragged?"

  Brian pointed to the trees at the bottom of the rocky slope.

  Alice started down that way.

  Brian followed, his pace slower as he focused on each foot placement while atop the boulders, all while Alice seemed to simply glide effortlessly from one surface to the next.

  "Looks much steeper from down here," she noted as he finally joined her alongside the trees, her eyes directed back toward where they had started.

  "Yeah, but then it levels out once you're in the trees."

  "What do you think happened here? Rockslide? Maybe from all the deforestation above this area. From what I read, that can really destabilize an area."

  He studied the landscape and looked at the baselines of the boulders near where they stood, and said, "You could be right, but it must have been quite some time ago because look at how entrenched the rocks are. It's like they're coming out of the ground, and stuff is growing up all around them."

  "Yeah, but it makes you wonder, how destabilized is the land above us on the mountain and how many slides like this or boulders have come down without anyone knowing?"

  "Sort of an 'if a tree falls in the woods' type of thing," he noted, unsure of where she was going with this.

  "Exactly."

  He waited for more, but nothing followed.

  Instead, she asked, "So, she was dragged into the woods here and then what?"

  "I headed in after Chief Parker pointed me this way, but only made it about fifteen to twenty feet before I saw her crunched up between two trees. She had her pistol out and shot at me."

  "At you or near you as like a warning?"

  He shrugged.

  "Do you think she was really taken against her will, or was it all staged?"

  "It all seemed genuine to me. Her clothes were ripped, she was shaking, and like we said earlier, that blow to the back of Chief Parker's head wasn't a simple love tap. He could have been killed."

  "Okay, so if it wasn't staged, that means that he was taking her somewhere—unless of course he simply wanted to rape her right then and there. And even if the latter, just the fact that he was around this area, dragging around a body and attacking people, makes me think he has to be at home in this area."

&nb
sp; Brian shook his head. "I know what you're thinking, but I really don't think we should go wandering around the woods. Too easy to get lost."

  "We won't go far, just a quick peek into the trees down here."

  "Alice, no. That's how people get lost. A quick step off the trail to pee and suddenly they can't find their way back. Remember that show I Shouldn't Be Alive that we used to watch?"

  "I just want to look around a bit. We'll use the buddy system. You stay here in the clearing and I will go look around. If I can't find my way back, I will shout to you and you will shout back, guiding me with your voice."

  "And if you go so far that you can't hear my voice?"

  She shook her head. "Relax, we'll be fine. You just wait here."

  "No, Alice, this is dangerous."

  She smiled and stepped into the trees.

  Jesus Christ! his mind snapped. Out loud, he said, "As soon as I can't see you, I'm going to shout. Please respond. If you don't, I'm going to think something happened."

  "I will."

  He nodded.

  With that, she started walking, visible for quite some time before she was suddenly gone.

  "Alice!" he shouted.

  "I'm fine!" she called back.

  23

  Cheryl wasn't sure what she was supposed to be looking for within Quinn Parker's house and was growing more and more uncomfortable with every second that she spent inside.

  Maybe just wait for Beverly?

  Just sit on the couch and relax until she comes back.

  The trouble with that was Beverly would know she hadn't made any effort and might get upset. Furthermore, she might decide that Cheryl wasn't pulling her own weight in their quest to find the source of the gems, and cut her out.

  Your cut is bigger now with Brendon gone…

  Unless…

  Had Beverly even been planning on giving Brendon a cut?

  He didn't seem to care about money. In fact, he didn't care about anything beyond stalking and fucking women while wearing his Bigfoot costume, so…

  Memories of him attacking her in the woods threatened to appear once again.

  She pushed the thoughts away.

  They were replaced with memories of all the great times she had had with Beverly.

  The two would never have gotten together if it weren't for him.

  She had always hated this aspect of their relationship. It was a dark spot that would never go away—a stain that could not be removed, much like the stain that darkened the potential fortune that would soon be in their hands. Brendon had stalked, raped, and tortured that girl before killing her, and rather than report it, Beverly had covered it up so that they could find the rest of the treasure she had found.

  At the time, Cheryl had been fine with this since dead was dead. They hadn't killed Margaret themselves, and if they could profit from the unfortunate situation, why shouldn't they?

  But then Annie had gotten involved.

  And then Brian and his wife.

  And Marlon Gibbs was killed, along with Chief Parker.

  She didn't like where this was going at all.

  But there was nothing she could do about it. If she decided to call it quits, she would simply be out of the fortune that Beverly would still pursue, and if she decided to talk about what was going on, they would both end up in jail.

  I might still end up in jail, she noted to herself, an image of Chief Parker on the ground, his lifeless eyes looking up at her, filling her mind.

  Why did Beverly have to shoot him?

  Had he really posed a threat?

  And why did she have to use my gun?

  The questions went on and on.

  And if there really is something here that points in my direction…

  She needed to find it.

  But nothing was jumping out at her.

  All the ground-floor rooms seemed normal.

  The kitchen had old dishes in it, some in the sink, some on the counter, the smells of burnt coffee oozing from the leftover brew that filled the bottom quarter of the percolator. Used mugs sat next to it, as did a stirring spoon in a tiny tray. The glass sugar container would need to be refilled soon.

  The family room had a reclining chair with an unfolded blanket on it, a water glass and pill bottle sitting next to it. The pills were Vicodin, the prescription date from the day before.

  No TV clicker.

  That was kind of odd.

  She did a quick sweep of the room but couldn't find it, eventually deciding that he must have carried it with him at some point, maybe while on the phone, and set it down while talking. Later he would have probably been as clueless as she was as to where it would be, a frantic search taking place in an effort to find it before some TV show came on.

  Did he have favorite shows that he watched?

  Was he a Game of Thrones fan waiting to see if Daenerys would ever sit on the Iron Throne?

  Did he get upset when he overheard Walking Dead spoilers before being able to watch the latest episode?

  Or was he more of a reality show “who will be voted off the island this week?” junkie?

  A sudden sense of sadness arrived, catching her off guard.

  She then tried to push it away, the statements from Beverly on how he had evidence against her working their way back to the forefront of her mind.

  She headed upstairs.

  The house had an office and three bedrooms, one being a master bedroom with a bath, the others being rooms for kids. Like most in town, Chief Parker had inherited the place from his parents, who had inherited it as well, the vast majority of the grander homes having been built during the heyday of the lumber industry and passed down through families.

  This one would not be passed down.

  Hers wouldn't be either.

  None of them would be.

  The town was dead.

  Cheryl momentarily wondered if she would stay in hers once they found the rest of the treasure.

  It was a question she had bounced around with no real answer for the last several weeks, her mind completely torn. On the one hand, despite everything that had happened while growing up, she did love the house and the woods. On the other, moving to a place like New York City or San Francisco might introduce her to more like-minded people, and she could probably find someone who would actually stay the night when they were together, holding her and making breakfast together in the morning.

  Did Margaret and Annie have that type of relationship?

  If so, why didn’t Annie come with her on her research trip?

  These thoughts stuck with her as she entered the office, her mind momentarily halting with its questions as she took in the view from the large bay windows that dominated the far wall.

  She could see the town—well, the church steeple and the top of the municipal building.

  It was impressive and somewhat commanding, the desk chair almost like a throne from which one could survey his lands.

  Did he think of the town as his?

  Did he often sit at the desk and look upon it?

  To her, Quinn had never seemed the type who would let his position as chief go to his head, but then she hadn't really known him all that well, and initial impressions could be deceiving. Hell, longtime impressions could be as well.

  The bag of weed and rolling papers she found inside a trinket on the corner of the desk a second later was a perfect example of this.

  She doubted those close to the chief would have known that he partook in a drug that his own department had vehemently battled against during her teenage years. Even now, the town frowned upon the legalization of the drug, a stance that was evident in the survey she had conducted last year for the paper.

  From the surface of the desk, she started looking through the drawers, one revealing that the chief was nearly $50,000 in debt, thanks to several credit cards that he had done cash advances against. What exactly he would need such large sums of cash for was a mystery, one that she was curious about but couldn't
focus on at the moment.

  Another drawer had legal papers as well as information for an attorney he was working with.

  Again, Cheryl was interested in this but knew she didn't have time to focus on it.

  The bottom drawer was locked.

  She stared at it for several seconds, dumbfounded.

  Why lock this drawer while tons of personal banking information was available in the drawer above it?

  And then there was the dope that was easily accessible on the surface.

  It didn't make sense.

  What could possibly be in the drawer that warranted locking when the other stuff did not?

  More important, where was the key?

  She searched the ring she had from the chief, but none of the keys worked in the drawer.

  She then searched the desk but didn't find one anywhere.

  Stumped, she took hold of a letter opener that was designed like a miniature cavalry saber and slipped it between the edge of the drawer and the desk.

  The lock did not pop, but she did manage to bend the sword in two different places, making it almost impossible to pull free once she had given up on popping the lock with it.

  You need a hammer or something.

  But then it will be obvious that someone was here.

  Evidence of a break-in by an unknown person was better than evidence that incorrectly pointed at her being involved in the deaths that had occurred.

  She had to see what was in the drawer.

  Decision made, she headed downstairs and into the cellar, her hope being that the chief had a workbench with tools somewhere within. Or at least a hammer or even a saw that she could cut into the drawer with, the former more preferable to the latter.

  As luck would have it, the chief did have a work area, one that didn't just have a hammer, but a two-foot-long pry bar.

  If she couldn't get the drawer open with that, she wouldn't be able to get it open with anything but the key.

  Pry bar in hand, she started toward the stairs, but then came to a sudden stop as a floorboard above creaked.