by Sylvia Nobel
To be on the safe side, I closed Fiona in the spare room until I could be present for the formal introduction. “Make yourself at home,” I said brightly, watching her explore her new surroundings. Being the inquisitive, perceptive creature she is, Marmalade eyed me with intense curiosity when I stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind me. After pinning me with a long, questioning stare, she settled onto the floor and stuck her nose under the door. She knew. I had a strong feeling that they’d be playing “paw” pat-a-cake long before my return. Supremely satisfied, I hopped in the Jeep and resumed my trip alone, guilt-free and relieved that I circumvented the dismal task of having to return Fiona to Daisy’s shelter. One less homeless cat for her to feed and care for, and a new friend for Marmalade.
Tooling along the freeway, I used the travel time to complete several phone calls. I filled Tugg in on yesterday’s events at the office and then informed him that this was my final trip to the Bumble Bee area for the foreseeable future. When I told him I’d be back at my desk in the morning, his enthusiastic response conveyed that he was pleased by my decision. I hung up and dialed Walter. The welcome news that he was making rapid progress and would probably leave the hospital by day’s end sent my spirits sky-high. Hooray! With Ginger back at the reception desk and Walter hopefully back to work by Friday, things were finally turning around in my direction again. For that I sent up a little prayer of thanks.
As I drew closer to the Bradshaw range, it was interesting to note that while the desert landscape was still awash in brilliant sunlight, billowy cathedrals of thunderheads pushed towards the majestic peaks. Would it soon be raining in Raven Creek? At least I wouldn’t have to tackle that harrowing road again today. I sighed with relief. One of the best things about living in Arizona was the diverse topography. When winter hit at home in Pennsylvania, it stayed cold and grey and miserable until late spring. Not in Arizona. In a matter of a few hours a person could drive north to ski or play in the snow, then jump back in the car and return to the warm sunshine all in the same day. Heaven!
I zoomed through Black Canyon City and was primed to call Marshall Turnbull when the car phone rang. I glanced at the Caller ID on the screen and tapped the CALL button. “Hey, Marshall, I was just getting ready to call you.”
“That so? How’re you doing today?”
“Okay. What did you think of the new information in my text?”
“I just hung up from talking to Marcelene about it.”
“Are you going to bring him in for more questioning?” I asked, accelerating up the hill past a slow-moving truck.
“We can certainly do that,” he intoned thoughtfully, “but like I told her, we have to be able to produce some kind of evidence, even circumstantial, in order to hold him and right now I don’t have it. I can’t arrest the guy for shooting off his mouth.”
“True, but now that you are aware of his background, it does throw a suspicious light on him, don’t you think?”
“It could. But, first thing I have to do is verify if he really is John Higglebottom and then we’ll go from there.”
Beep. Beep. I glanced over at the screen and saw that Brian was trying to reach me. That sparked my curiosity. “Marshall, I’ve got to take another call. Talk to you soon.”
“Sure thing.”
I touched the button again. “Brian, what’s up?” I asked, easing off the accelerator to turn onto the Bumble Bee exit.
“I got into the emails on her laptop.”
“Fantastic! Anything jump out at you?”
“Mmmm, no, but I’m not sure what you’re looking for. You want me to bring it by your office?”
“I’m not there right now. Did you check out her Photo folder?”
“Oh, yeah. Lots of ’em. Mostly animals, family, and just...I don’t know. Stuff. She took a ton of the black cat. There’s a shitload of photos of Nathan and a bunch of selfies of the two of them hiking, biking, riding ATVs…looks like they’re at a lake in a couple…uh…”
The pavement ended abruptly and the Jeep bounced along the washboard dirt road once again. “Well, thanks for doing that,” I murmured, disappointed. “I was hoping you might find something significant.”
“Nothing much interesting that I can see…whoa! This last one’s kinda weird.”
Senses on alert, I asked, “What do you mean?”
“There’s a picture of Nathan leaning against a humongous rock that someone painted white to look like a human skull.”
I frowned. A skull? It took a few seconds for it to come to me but when it did, Daisy’s words came rushing back to me. ‘I’m scared of the head. Big scary head.’
For no discernable reason, icy pinpricks of apprehension invaded my gut. “You’re sure that’s the last photo?”
“Positive. It was the last one uploaded from the Cloud.”
“Brian, would you do me a favor and text it to me? Cell service out here is sporadic at best, so, please do it right now. Include the date too.”
“Sure. On its way.”
I thanked him and searched for a place to pull over. The photo might or might not have any bearing on my investigation. Either way, I was eager to see it. There was no safe spot along the winding road, so I drove on, finally stopping in front of the old stone structure in Bumble Bee I’d passed by several times before.
I grabbed up my phone and swiftly checked my text messages. Nothing new yet. “Come on,” I whispered, unable to explain the anxious knot in my stomach. In reality it was only a minute but it seemed like thirty before I heard the familiar chime. I scrolled to the photo and a cold shiver brushed the nape of my neck. No wonder Daisy was scared. The ominous skeleton face painted on the skull-shaped rock was definitely unnerving, but more important was the date the photo was taken. If my calculations were correct, it had been taken the week before the young couple’s bodies had been discovered. And if Daisy was correct, the rock was located somewhere between Raven Creek and the McCracken Ranch on property adjacent to the closed road. I studied the photo again. Judging by the soft lighting and long shadows it appeared to have been taken in the late afternoon.
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel as I absorbed the information. If this was in fact the last photo Jenessa had taken, it confirmed they had been somewhere in that area the last day or two of their lives. I thought about Jenessa’s voice message. The closest mine that I knew of located on private property was the old Thunderbolt Mine, now owned by the Raven Creek Gravel Company. My mind created a likely scenario. Nathan, who seemed to have little regard for rules, had ventured onto the property with plans to snoop around the old mine. He and Jenessa had been caught trespassing and chased off by…someone—someone creepy, she’d said. And then…what? How did knowing this make any difference in the scheme of things?
Totally frustrated, I returned the phone to my purse and sped towards the McCracken Ranch. Now that I felt fairly certain of their last whereabouts, what good did it do me? What did I really know? I could wish, I could hope, but there was still nothing solid to connect Jenessa’s photo, her voice message and all the other leads I’d gathered over the past few days to any of the four supposedly accidental deaths. And at this juncture, it was highly unlikely that Harvel Brickhouse could add anything to the disjointed mix, so I was probably wasting my time. Why not just turn around and go back to Castle Valley right now and be with my family? Torn, I struggled to make the right decision, but hard as I tried, I could not ignore the shadowy weight pressing down on me. I glanced up towards the charcoal clouds shrouding the mountaintops. The secret had to be up there somewhere. All I needed was one significant clue to break this story wide open.
CHAPTER
30
Powerful, intermittent wind gusts rocked my Jeep and stirred up massive dust devils alongside the dirt road as I resumed my trip towards the McCracken Ranch. Even with the inclement weather now imminent, the joyr
iders were still out in force. I pulled to the side to allow two couples on quads and a dirty, white Jeep that had been riding my tail zoom by, followed by a dune buggy and a shiny, black pickup that looked like it was traveling a hundred miles an hour. Left in a cloud of choking dust, I flinched with surprised recognition. What? The Hinkles were here again? I no longer believed it was coincidental that they seemed to show up everywhere I went. But I also had no logical explanation for their blatant and continuing attempts at intimidation.
Nerves on edge, I pushed ahead, but had to swerve suddenly when two dump trucks rounded a sharp curve and roared by only inches from me. Good God! Why did everyone feel compelled to drive like it was the Daytona 500 on this road? What was the hurry? I finally reached the cattle guard that marked the delineation between BLM and Forest Service land. Two vehicles facing opposite directions blocking the road caught my attention. Drawing closer, I realized it was Linda Tressick and Burton Carr seated in their respective trucks visiting through the driver’s side windows.
At the sound of my approach, Linda looked over her shoulder, while Burton lifted a hand in greeting. She backed her truck up and then, with a cordial wave in my direction, drove past me heading towards Bumble Bee. I returned her wave and then bumped over the cattle guard. As I passed by Burton Carr’s truck, he motioned for me to stop. I did so and powered my window down. “How are you today?”
“I’m good.” He inclined his head towards the thunderheads towering over the mountain. “I’m surprised you came back today with this big storm brewing. I’m going home now and if I were you…”
Grinning, I cut him off with, “I know. I know. I’m not going anywhere near Raven Creek today. Believe me, I trust your judgment.”
His round face flushed pink and he practically preened. “I appreciate that. More than you know.”
“You bet.”
“What brings you back here today? Still hunting for a headline?”
“This is probably my last trip for a while.”
“Did you ever find Harvel?” he inquired, tilting his head to one side.
“On my way to the McCracken Ranch now. I’m hoping to find him.”
“Well, good luck.” He started his engine. “You take care now.” He glanced up at the sky again. “It’s going to start snowing here soon. I’d make it a short visit.”
“That’s my plan.” He gave me a friendly salute and drove away. I continued on and, within two miles, first a row of mailboxes and then the first few houses in Cleator popped into sight. Cruising by the dilapidated bar, a cursory glance revealed an old white van, two pickups, a couple of quads and a dark, green Hummer parked in front. I frowned and did a double take, thinking that such an expensive vehicle seemed oddly out of place in this setting. Could it possibly be the same vehicle I’d seen cruising by after I’d been run off the road by the two dune buggies? The one which the driver didn’t have the courtesy to stop and see if I was all right?
I drove past the few remaining structures and within seconds the tiny community disappeared from sight. I gunned it along the uneven road towards the heart of the Bradshaw Mountains, anxious to reach the ranch, question Harvel and then get home before the storm front arrived with full force. The repeated chiming from my phone signaled incoming texts, so I finally pulled onto the shoulder. I grabbed an apple from the cooler and chewed as I read the messages. The first one from my dad made me smile. FANTASTIC TRIP! CAN’T THANK U ENOUGH! MONUMENT VALLEY IS AWE INSPIRING. BACK @ THE MOTEL. SEAN’S NAPPING. THINK WE’LL GRAB A FEW WINKS 2. DARN FOOT HURTS! SEE U THIS EVENING. LOVE, DAD
The joyous tingle running through me was tempered somewhat by a pang of disappointment. I felt badly that our phone communication had been nonexistent due to the sporadic cell service. I should have been with them on the trip to share in all the fun. Oh well, no use dwelling on it. I swiped to the second message, from Tally. ON THE ROAD 2 PHOENIX. HOSPITAL PLANS 2 RELEASE MA IN THE MORNING. WILL DO MY BEST 2 MEET U FOR DINNER LTR. LUV U.
All right! My postponed vacation was about to begin. Feeling slightly more optimistic, I slid the phone back in my purse and shifted into drive. No sooner had I pulled onto the road than I heard the familiar roaring whine of an ATV behind me. I flicked a look in the rearview mirror and the shock of recognition made the half-eaten apple stick in my throat. It was the same young guy I’d already encountered three times before. Same hat on backwards, same kerchief covering his face. My stomach went hollow when he accelerated around the Jeep and came abreast of me. I fired him a startled look and sped up. He sped up. I slowed down. He slowed down. Then he swerved sharply towards the Jeep, forcing me to wrench the wheel to the right to avoid a collision. My adrenalin kicked into overdrive, catapulting my pulse rate skyward. What kind of an insane game was this idiot playing? Refusing to be intimidated, I powered the window down and shouted, “What the hell are you doing?” I jammed the brakes so hard I almost skidded off the road. He edged a glance over his shoulder at me, floored it and then flipped me off before he disappeared around the bend.
Breathing heavily, my heart thudding in my throat, I had to forcibly calm myself down before continuing the journey. Was this creep just another nut job, or was there something more sinister going on? Was there any question that the guy was keeping me under surveillance? Why? What was going on? Both perplexed and agitated, I reached over and felt around in my purse until my fingers curled around the holster of my .38. The likelihood of ever having to use it for self-defense had always seemed remote, but now it made me feel just a little safer knowing that I had it as a deterrent, if necessary. All the rules I’d learned in my concealed-carry course paraded through my head as I warily rounded a blind curve. The road ahead was clear, but the faint remains of a dust plume rising from a narrow trail snaking its way into the foothills signaled his whereabouts and afforded me only a temporary sense of relief. My stalker might be gone for the moment, but I had a strange feeling that I’d be seeing him again.
Lost in thought, I almost overshot the entrance to the McCracken Ranch. Slowing, I turned right onto a wide, well-maintained dirt road, and within a half a mile passed a corroded stock tank surrounded by at least a dozen head of skinny brown and white cattle. A quarter of a mile later, a low-slung ranch house came into view. I eased to a stop beside an incredibly mud-splattered red pickup and spotted a man seated on the front porch apparently asleep with a shotgun cradled in his lap. I knew I’d found the right person. Harvel Brickhouse fit Burton Carr’s description to a T—salt and pepper mutton chops and a ragged brown hat. A yellow Lab rose to its feet and barked. The man’s head jerked up and he surveyed me with a look of curiosity laced with suspicion. I slid out into the chill wind and approached the porch, taking note of three empty beer bottles on the chipped wooden table beside his chair. “Are you Harvel Brickhouse?”
“Who wants to know?” he countered slyly, brushing his hand along the barrel of the shotgun in a mildly threatening gesture.
“Kendall O’Dell. I’m a reporter with the Castle Valley Sun. How are you today?”
“Still on this side of the dirt,” came his laconic reply while he eyed me with skepticism.
I grinned. “That’s always a good thing.”
“Whatcha want?”
“To ask you a few questions about the young couple you found near Raven Creek last week,” I stated, gesturing westward towards the imposing heights.
“I only got a few minutes,” he grumbled, darting a look at his watch.
“That’s all I need.”
Apparently pondering my request, he sat in silent reflection for a few seconds before asking, “What do ya wanna know?”
The capricious wind whipped my hair into a frenzy as I walked up the four steps onto the creaky wooden porch, but I froze in my tracks when the dog issued a low warning growl. He rested a hand on the dog’s back. “It’s okay. Go lay down, Willie.”
Willie did as he was to
ld, but never took his deep brown eyes off me as I pulled out my phone, scrolled to a photo of Jenessa and Nathan and held it out to Harvel. “Ever seen either of these two people around here?”
He fished reading glasses from the pocket of his sheepskin coat and studied the photo for a long time before meeting my gaze. “I ain’t never seen that girl, but I sure seen this young fellah before,” he replied, pulling the reading glasses lower on the bridge of his blotchy nose. “I had to run him off after I caught him gettin’ ready to do a swan dive down a vertical mine on one of my claims.”
“When was that?”
He puckered his lips up until they met the end of his nose. “Mmmmm…about a month back, six weeks maybe?”
“Any other time?”
A shrug. “Seen him tearing around the hills on his quad a number of times.”
I tapped the screen. “Are you aware that these are the people you found in the camper last week?”
His jaw dropped. “No. They…uh…didn’t look like…that when I found ‘em,” he muttered, obviously shaken by my statement.
I relayed all the information I’d learned from Marshall and Burton Carr. “So, you just happened to be riding by on your snowmobile when you discovered the camper, is that correct?”