When they finished praying Quinn suggested, “Leroy, meet us at the top,” he called over his shoulder.
Leroy was stunned at how quickly they both moved out. He laughed as he started his ascent up the trail. At the halfway point, he had to stop to catch his breath. It took him another ten minutes to reach the parking area. He looked around but didn’t see Louisa or Quinn anywhere. He finally heard them laughing and realized they were sitting in the grass near the cruiser.
“Well, you two, I really need to know who finished first,” he said.
Louisa slowly stood and bowed in Quinn’s direction. Leroy was surprised because from what he had seen earlier, his money would have been on Louisa. Then Quinn stood, and Leroy immediately saw blood and gashes on his right arm and leg.
“I knew I had him beat when I looked up and saw the parking lot ahead of us. There were only two switchbacks left till the top. Well, my friend here charged on through the pucker bush thickets to take a turn out of play. Advantage, Quinn, and I learned another valuable lesson: This competitive beast will risk life and limb to finish first,” Louisa explained.
Quinn gave them both the aw, shucks look as he smiled the smile of someone who put it on the line to win. But he also had the look of one who knew his time to wallow in this victory was short and he’d better not rub it in.
Louisa teased, “Sure hope you don’t get any poison ivy from your little trip.” They all laughed.
“Hey, almost forgot,” Quinn said, “Leroy, please call the lab team and have them meet us at a spot we marked on Highway 52. We found tire tracks at the hidden trailhead on the highway. My bet is that they’ll get a match. This was good. I just knew we would find something.”
On the way back to Quinn’s house, they discussed what might have happened when Pete was taken to the cave. They were convinced it was the work of one person.
They had time to clean up; as it would be awhile before the lab team arrived from Wytheville. Quinn smarted when Louisa washed his arm and leg with witch hazel. She smiled as she slowly pulled the long thorns and burrs from his skin.
Payback was a bitch.
CHAPTER 28
The ride from the funeral home in Hillsville to the airport in Greensboro was an emotional roller coaster for the Prestons. Each county sent a police escort to lead them into the next county until they finally reached the Piedmont Triad International Airport.
The airport police opened the gate to the tarmac and escorted them to the jet that was parked at the gate. They parked next to the plane and walked out onto the tarmac. They saw the airport police officers, firefighters, and Delta ramp staff line up along the conveyor that would carry Pete’s coffin into the belly of the jet. Tim and Susan cried and thanked everyone there. The Delta station manager then escorted them up the stairs to the first-class cabin.
Tim looked at him and asked, “Who arranged for all of this?”
“The Carroll County Sheriff ’s Department made all of the arrangements,” he replied. The Prestons thanked him as they settled into their seats for their short, somber flight to Detroit. The pilots and flight attendants had offered their condolences before they took off. When they landed, the Captain asked the other passengers to stay seated as the Prestons were greeted by the ramp manager. He escorted them down the stairs to the conveyor that had been pulled up to the plane.
The funeral home staff, airport police officers, and officers from the Wayne County Sheriff ’s Department stood at attention when Pete’s coffin inched down the conveyor. Tim and Susan hugged each other and cried bitterly.
The deputies drove slowly through traffic as cars pulled over out of respect. They soon arrived at the funeral home in Grosse Pointe Farms. Their families greeted and consoled them while the coffin was taken inside. Father Phil, their pastor from St. Paul’s Catholic Church, spent time praying with them before they left for their home.
Tim’s cousin Shannon had driven over from Wisconsin to make the arrangements for the funeral and subsequent reception at the house. The funeral was scheduled for eight o’clock Friday morning, and only the immediate family was at the funeral home on Thursday night. Susan and Tim had a tight schedule to keep. They needed to fly back to Greensboro on the last flight out of Detroit at three o’clock on Friday afternoon.
Friday morning came soon enough. Shannon had prepared all of their clothing in advance and had breakfast ready by six. The car from the funeral home arrived at seven to pick them up. As they arrived at the funeral home, their relatives again greeted them. Hugs and tears were the order of the moment as the procession readied for the ride to St. Paul’s Church.
Tim looked out the window of the limousine on the short ride to the church. He couldn’t yet believe he was about to bury his first-born child. This stretched the power of his faith. He believed that God was all powerful and ever merciful. Yet the reason that his mother and now his son were gone was incomprehensible.
As if Susan knew what he was thinking, she took his hand and squeezed it with her rosary beads intertwined in her fingers. He smiled weakly as their eyes met. He knew that her faith would carry him through this ordeal. At least he prayed it would.
Father Phil met them on the steps of St. Paul’s, took their hands, and led them up the stairs into the church. Susan saw the pews filled with all manner of friends and neighbors. Not one seat was empty. Tim nodded to his boss and coworkers who wiped tears from their cheeks.
Father Phil spoke directly to Susan and Tim during his somber homily, which centered on the questions we all ask when such a young life is taken. He touched on the cornerstones of faith that bind the faithful to the Lord God, who sees all with a divine light. He also asked those gathered to continue their prayers for Katie’s safe return.
The rest of the service, as well as the ride to the grave site was a blur for the Prestons. Tim wanted it all to slow down. He didn’t want to see his son lowered into the ground for eternity. Yet suddenly, before his eyes, all the prayers ended and the coffin slowly disappeared into the earth. He cried as hard as he ever remembered and joined Susan as they painfully placed two roses on top of the coffin and said their last good-byes to Pete. They both wanted to stay there forever, but they knew that this moment had to pass into the next.
Tim was jolted into reality as the door to the front cabin of the Delta jet closed promptly at three o’clock. He hugged Susan as the jet thundered down the runway. Tim’s brain tried to process all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, and he knew that what might happen in the next twenty-four hours could have a far greater impact on their lives.
Susan held Tim’s hand tightly as they walked away from the Delta Gate 34 in the Greensboro airport. The first person they saw at the TSA security checkpoint was Mary, who already had tears in her eyes. They hugged and cried together.
“Any good news to report?” Susan asked.
Mary shook her head from side to side.
“I wish there was,” she said sadly.
CHAPTER 29
Sheriff Pierce awoke on Friday morning and sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the cobwebs out of his eyes. For some reason, he knew this would be a rotten day. He didn’t feel this way very often, but his stomach was already in knots. That was not a good sign.
He was halfway through breakfast when his BlackBerry rang. He looked at the screen and saw that it was Libby Thomas.
“Good morning, Libby. Hope you’re well,” he said.
“Good morning, Frank. I’m well, that is, as well as I possibly can be under the circumstances. Frank, I met all the supervisors last night at my farm. Needless to say, they’re not happy. Their constituents are quickly becoming alarmed that our beloved flea market is about to take the worst hit in history. We’re getting closer to Labor Day weekend, and we need to have our usual five hundred thousand visitors depositing money into our county coffers. The number of cancellations is frightening.
Frank, as you well know, if the regulars and any new vendors don’t rent booths, we’re
all screwed. The shithead media are still around the county in force. I swear they’re interviewing every dimwit who lives in the county.
The supervisors and I decided that they need to meet with you this afternoon to hear what you have to say about anything connected to the case. Does four o’clock work for you?” she asked.
The sheriff ’s first inclination was to tell Libby to kiss his ass. “Four o’clock works just fine. Will it be in your county office?” he asked.
“No, Frank, it’s going to be at my farm. We don’t want the media to be anywhere close to us. One other thing: I heard you’ve enlisted the help of some high-powered FBI woman, as well as the man she’s visiting. What’s up with that, Frank?”
“Libby, I was about to tell you about Louisa Hawke and Quinn McSpain.” He went on to tell her about their backgrounds and what had brought them to Fancy Gap. He also told her about the new evidence that Louisa, Quinn, and Leroy Jefferson had found at Devil’s Den.
“That’s great, Frank. Can you ask them to come with you to the meeting today?”
“Libby, I can ask, but don’t get your hopes up too high. I had to do some heavy convincing to even get them to help. A number of contributing factors came in to play that helped them make up their minds. I certainly don’t want to piss them off with too many demands on their time. I’m sure you understand, Libby.”
“Well, I certainly do, Frank, and I know you’ll do your best to have them with us at four o’clock. Good-bye, Frank.”
The sheriff looked at his cell phone after she hung up and frowned. This is going to be a shitty day, he thought. He immediately punched in Quinn’s number and hoped for the best.
“Good Friday morning, sheriff,” Quinn answered.
“Quinn, I just got off the phone with Libby Thomas, who is the chairperson of the county supervisors. She met with all the supervisors last night, and they want to meet with me at four this afternoon. She’s already heard through the grapevine that you and Louisa are helping us out. She thought it might comfort the supervisors if they could meet both of you. Let me be honest, Quinn: Having you there might keep them off my back and let me stick to police work. What do you think?”
“Well, sheriff, let me ask Louisa.” Quinn turned and ran the question by her. She gave him an indifferent shrug of her shoulders.
“Sheriff, she wants to know if the session will be tougher than when she testified in front of Congressional committees.”
The sheriff laughed. “Quinn, you tell Louisa that I will personally shoot any one of those supervisors who gets out of line. So can I count on you to be with us?”
“Not to worry, sheriff, we’ll be with you. Quick question: Have the CSI folks gotten back to you on what we found at Devil’s Den?”
“No, not yet, Quinn, but I asked them to call me as soon as they know something. Let me suggest that you both come to my office at three-thirty, and we’ll drive to Libby’s place together.”
“Perfect. We’ll see you at three-thirty.”
After Quinn hung up, Louisa said, “Let me guess—this place is no different than anywhere else. They’re lucky to have one big event that puts them on the map. Now something is threatening the very existence of it all, and they’re running scared. The political pressure is building, and those on the higher end of the food chain need to start looking for a scapegoat if all of this goes to hell in a hand basket.”
Quinn took a few steps back. “Wow, you’re real smart…for a girl,” he quipped.
They went for their morning run and returned to the house for breakfast. Quinn preferred to begin his day with a bowl full of yogurt and fruit topped off with wheat germ and covered with local honey. His daily regimen also called for an assortment of vitamins and a tall glass of orange juice.
Louisa watched him stirring the yogurt and asked, “Exactly how long have you been in the habit of having yogurt for breakfast, and do you have names for all those vitamins you’re taking?”
He smiled as he picked up his spoon, “All that you see standing before you didn’t happen by accident.” She kicked him under the table.
“Ah…, where do I begin? OK, let’s see, I’ve been having yogurt each morning for the past forty or so years. A long time ago, I read about the hardy Scandinavians who had yogurt every day and lived healthy lives until they were a hundred years old or so. It provides calcium for your bones. My six-foot-two-inch frame, which usually carries two hundred pounds or so, has been running hard for thirty plus years which equates to a lot pavement pounding.
I started running when Natalie was born. I was a nonathletic, Joe Six-Pack type who smoked two packs of cigarettes a day. You remember that I told you that she was a preemie who was in the hospital for thirty-five days before she came home? On that very day, I stopped smoking. I couldn’t pollute the air she would breathe. My personal struggle began that day, since I enjoyed smoking. The next day I walk-jogged half a mile. It about killed me. But I kept it up and convinced my neighbor at the time that he should join me. Eight months later we ran and finished the Marine Corps Marathon. It was awesome, and the rest is history. There are a grand total of fifty marathons, triathlons, and biking events in my athletic portfolio.
The point I’m making, Louisa, is that I have been blessed with strong bones that have carried me through all those miles. In short, all this yogurt and vitamins have been very good for me. The vitamins are simple. One multiple is the catchall; one thousand of C; a B fifty complex to fight off viruses; four hundred of E; and of course the glucosamine/chondroitin for tough joints. A long time ago, a good friend who is a nutritionist explained that whatever my body didn’t need would quite simply leave through my urine or I would sweat it out. Plus, an additional benefit is that I rarely get sick. When we exercise, we elevate our internal core temperature—sort of like having a fever. It burns all the bad germs and viruses away.”
“Well, now, Mister Smarty Pants, that explains something that I’ve noticed. I must admit that the benefits of your nutrition, vitamins, and exercise are ever so evident. You run almost as fast as I do, you look good biking behind me, and you do look ever so good in profile in the mirror if I’m standing beside you.
But, regardless of all of that, what I’m really impressed with are your nails. I guess that vitamin E must be really working its magic on those nails of yours. Very impressive indeed. Do you think I can apply a little nail polish on those macho nails of yours?”
Quinn held his fingers up and looked at his nails. He had never paid any attention to them other than to cut them when needed. His fingernails had never had the attention of a manicurist.
“Hey, let’s just see what attention they need after we get back from rock climbing this morning. I sure wouldn’t want the county supervisors to get the wrong impression if I show up with bad nails. I might just take you up on that offer,” he said.
They laughed as they packed their rock-climbing gear in the back seat of the Ram. The trip to Hanging Rock State Park just over the border in North Carolina. He had climbed Cook’s Wall and Moore’s Wall, a series of cliffs up to four hundred feet high, which were great for seasoned climbers and novices alike.
Louisa had never climbed, but she was eager to learn. He knew she would quickly understand the basics. Their morning passed quickly, and they stopped to eat lunch in the early afternoon. Louisa was visibly excited about what she had accomplished on the walls already.
“OK, Quinn, two things are now clear to me. The first is this climbing stuff is a real rush. I love it. The second is that you’re an excellent climber. Thanks for being such a good teacher for the past four hours.”
Quinn noticed a new glow to Louisa as they drove back to the Chateau. She was quite pleased with her new-found rock-climbing skills. They quickly showered and dressed before they left for the sheriff ’s office. The sheriff was waiting for them when they arrived in the parking lot. He smiled as they got out of Quinn’s truck.
“I just saw a sign as we pulled in to the parking lot that
points to a Beaver Dam Trail. Exactly where is that trail?”
The sheriff pointed to the back of the parking lot. “It actually starts on the other side of the street, circles behind the Government Center, and goes right behind our parking lot before it goes into the woods. The trail goes straight down as it twists and turns through the woods before it comes out in front of the Carroll Wellness Center. It’s a pretty challenging trail. But I suspect it would be just a warm-up for you two.”
Quinn looked at Louisa and smiled.
“So, sheriff, tell us about the wonderful folks we’re about to meet,” urged Quinn.
“Well, Quinn, all six of them will be there. Five represent the magisterial districts, and one is an at-large member. Libby Thomas is the chairperson and will undoubtedly do all the talking. Libby’s a no-nonsense businesswoman whose family owns a great deal of the farmland in the county. They also own the local bank, which competes rather nicely with the big banks here in Hillsville. They also own the franchises to several of the larger chain motels along the interstate highway. Let there be no doubt that her family makes a ton of money from the Labor Day flea market and gun show. Her family has invested a lot of money to help the event grow and be successful. Officially it’s the VFW that puts on the Labor Day weekend festivities, but everyone knows that the Thomas family rules the Carroll County roost.
Libby has competed in equestrian shows and competitions here in the Virginia horse country, as well as in England, I think. The woman is serious about her horses. I understand she owns more than twenty thoroughbreds. Kentucky horse people come to her barn to see her horses and talk business. And, oh, yeah, she’s gone through two husbands. Both died of heart attacks.”
They pulled in to a long driveway lined with tall, majestic oaks. Quinn could see the main residence, perched atop the highest knoll at the end of the road. The house was a large Victorian, with huge top and bottom porches. The American flag flew from the left top porch; the Confederate flag from the right. An enormous barn complex stood off in the distance, where horses grazed in multiple pastures surrounded by white fences. The land stretched as far as the eye could see. It was an immaculately maintained property.
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