Hazardous Homecoming

by Dana Mentink

  She nodded. “All right, but I’ll be back.”

  He waited until they were gone before he set a match to the dry wood and blew on the tiny flame until the wood caught. The warmth seemed infinitesimal to dispel the cold that gripped him.

  Jazz. He needed some jazz. Thinking music. He thumbed through his iPod to find some Charlie Parker tunes that would sooth him into a place where he could make some decisions.

  * * *

  It was a good two hours later when the door swung open to admit his brother.

  “Coop,” Peter said, arms full of paper bags. “I’m home.”

  Cooper performed the first action automatically, scanning his brother’s face, checking for the slack look, the bleary eyes, the aroma of alcohol as his brother put down the bags and grabbed him in a bear hug. When there were no indications that Peter had been drinking, Cooper felt the wash of guilt for his lack of trust. Would it always be like that? Distrust, guilt, disappointment? False hope? A real chance of healing? He let it go and returned his brother’s embrace.

  “I was expecting you yesterday.”

  Peter nodded, the dark blond hair grown long enough to touch his shoulders, deep creases on his tanned face. “Been working extra shifts at the café. Got dishpan hands, but earned some extra cash to get my car some new tires.”

  “I got a visit from Heather. She told me you were working at her dad’s café.”

  “Yeah. Cool that he gave me a job. Don’t exactly have much to offer in the way of work history on a resume.”

  “Peter, we need to talk.”

  “Right,” his brother said, heading into the kitchen. “Can I cook while we talk? I’m starving.”

  Cooper watched as Peter moved around the kitchen. He was thin, maybe a bit too thin, but his hands were steady and sure as he minced garlic and chopped herbs to sprinkle on a pair of pork chops he’d fished out of the bag. Peter was an excellent cook, no doubt about that. “This place is a wreck, Coop.” He heated olive oil and slid the meat into a pan. “If you’re gonna stay with me, you’ll have to learn to clean up after yourself.”

  Cooper was about to fire off a retort when he saw the grin. Typical Peter. The jokester. But the hunted look he’d seen in the past on his brother’s face was no joke. He was relieved there was no sign of it now.

  “Something has come up.”

  “Heard a few things. Why don’t you tell me what you’re worrying about? You get this crinkle between your eyebrows when you’re stewing and it’s gonna ruin your handsome baby face.”

  “It’s coming up again, what happened to Alice all those years ago. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to stay here.”

  Peter hesitated for a moment, staring into the sizzling pan. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. Need to work. Can’t stay with Mom, she’s barely making it with the money you send her, and I know when I’m there she feels like she has to take care of me.”

  A thrill went through him at the unselfish words. They’re just words, Coop. He’s got to walk the walk, not just talk about it. Cooper took a deep breath. “Ruby Hudson found Alice Walker’s locket hanging in a tree.”

  Peter still did not look at Cooper. “I heard.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. It means they can find the guy who snatched her. That’s what you’re thinking, right?”

  The pop of oil startled Cooper, but Peter didn’t flinch.

  “Yes, but it’s going to bring up a lot of bad blood.”

  “I’m tougher than I was when I was a teen, Coop.”

  Cooper waited. His brother had something to say.

  Peter slowly turned to face him. “Are you worried that I’ll be proven innocent?” Another hiss and pop from the hot oil. “Or guilty?”

  Cooper gaped. “You’re a piece of work to say that after I’ve stood by you since the moment it happened. I know you’ll be proven innocent.”

  “You’re a better brother than I deserve.”

  Something flickered across Peter’s face for a split second. In that tiny increment of time, Cooper’s soul quaked. “Peter, I know you didn’t do anything to Alice Walker and you’ve told the police everything about that day.”

  Peter looked away, fussing over the dinner.

  Peter was innocent.

  Wasn’t he?

  * * *

  Ruby sat bolt upright in bed. No sunlight peeked through a gap in the curtains yet. The thought that had niggled at her since she found the locket burst into her consciousness with crystal clarity. The clock read four-thirty. Her brother and father were still asleep, but she could not stow the idea churning through her mind a moment longer.

  Throwing on a pair of jeans and a thick sweater that had been a gift from Molly Pickford on Ruby’s high school graduation day, Ruby tiptoed into the kitchen, filled her thermos with coffee, snatched up her cell phone and tossed them both into a backpack before padding outside. She retrieved her hiking boots from the porch and laced them on. A thrill of fear rippled through her. Lester, if it really was him, was still at large somewhere, but she did not think he would brave the sanctuary property, and definitely not with the police on the lookout for him.

  Still, anxiety lingered in her veins, but she forced herself into action anyway. Her whole life had been steeped in fear that colored and shadowed every moment since Alice disappeared, and she was sick of it. Finally, it seemed, there was a chance to shed some light in that darkness, and she would not let the precious moment pass. She’d have to be certain before she told anyone else.

  Jacket zipped and cell phone clutched in her hand, she headed out. The sky was unclouded, which meant precisely nothing on the southern coast of Oregon. A lovely morning could morph into a rainy afternoon. Overhead the sounds of rustling birds reminded her that life was burgeoning again as spring meant babies for many species. Her precious bald eagles were tending to their young eaglets, the awkward fuzzy creatures not yet ready to fly. They needed constant attention, which they received from both the mother and father.

  An image of her mother rose in her mind, a photo she’d seen of an elegantly dressed, smiling woman holding court at a Hudson family Christmas party in their neat San Francisco Victorian. Ruby had no memories of her mother that weren’t secondhand stories told by her father or Mick. As a young child, she’d thought about those anecdotes, embroidered them in her mind, hoping to embed them so deep they would somehow become her own, but they hadn’t. Ruby had no imprint of her mother, like a bird abandoned just after hatching. If things had been different, and her mother had not succumbed to the cancer, would she have let Ruby go into the woods that day with Alice? Or might they never have come to Oregon at all, staying in San Francisco, amid the forest of eclectic buildings instead of the whispering pines?

  She had almost reached the tree when she heard footsteps running through the underbrush, moving fast, coming close. She slipped behind a screen of bushes, heart thudding. Thoughts of Josephine’s knife slicing into her flesh and Lester’s hot breath against her throat ratcheted her pulse even faster.

  Stay hidden. You’re safe.

  Not in these woods, her mind taunted.

  Not anywhere.

  Cooper burst into view, his sweatshirt damp with perspiration, moving fast and fluid as he churned along the path. The intensity in his face brought her to her feet, and before she thought it through she’d stepped out of her concealment.

  He jerked to a stop, breathing hard, sweat glistening on his face. “Ruby,” he panted. “What are you doing out here at this hour?”

  She wished now she’d stayed hidden. “I was, uh, checking on something. Do you always run before sunup?”

  He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Insomniac. It’s either run or watch countless hours of NBA basketball reruns.” He paused. “My brother’s home.”

  “Oh. I�
��m glad he made it.” The silence grew awkward between them. She wished he would say goodbye and move on, leave her to her mission. He didn’t, staying there with hands to his narrow waist, regarding her without his usual good-natured smile, which made her wonder.

  “I heard from the sheriff that there was no sign of the locket at the Walker’s house.”

  “Hmmm. That’s a setback. So what are you checking out then?”

  She sighed. No point in holding back. “I just wanted to see if my memory was accurate.” The pine needles under the tree were thick and fragrant as she knelt and sifted her fingers through the detritus.

  He took a knee next to her, uncomfortably close, heat emanating from his body. He didn’t say anything, which made her feel a pressing need to fill the silence.

  “When I found it, the necklace I mean, some debris from the nest fell down. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. The nest has been vacant for years. As the trees grew up around this one, it obscured the view, you see, and eagles don’t like to have their view obstructed so they found another location. The tree sort of became invisible until the others around it were cleared.”

  He let her babble, crouched down, one arm resting on his muscular thigh. When she ran out of breath, he nodded. “So what are we looking for?”

  “This,” she said, snatching up the fragment and holding it up to the light.

  He squinted. “Looks like part of a fish backbone.”

  “It is. Amazing that it’s still intact, but it was tucked between the twigs, which sheltered it from the elements, I think. The rest just sort of disintegrated. There are really only a few vertebrae left.”

  “You’re the bird expert and all, I’m just a plant guy, but isn’t it pretty common to find fish remnants in an eagle’s nest? They’re really into seafood, right?”

  She smiled. “Sure, but it got me to thinking about how the locket got up into the tree. It couldn’t have been carried by the wind and eagles aren’t like magpies that collect every shiny thing they see, so how did it get in the nest? It’s possible it was tangled in a branch that one of them brought to the nest, I suppose, but I came up with this crazy notion that it got here...”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Via the fish.”

  “Exactly.” She was pleased that she did not see disbelief in his look. “The eagle carried the fish up here and the necklace was inside the fish’s stomach.”

  He laughed. “I believe it. My brother and I once caught a salmon with a watch in its stomach. Fish gobble first and think about it later.”

  “Right. When the eagle tore away the flesh, the locket fell out and got caught in the branches.”

  “Which means,” he said, standing and offering her a hand, helping her to her feet, “that someone chucked the necklace in the lake to get rid of it, but your eagle friend brought it back here.”

  “Ironic, don’t you think?”

  “Amazing, is more like it. After twenty years, long after the fish and eagle are gone, Ruby Hudson happens along and finds it. What a break.”

  She winced. “I don’t believe in breaks anymore.”

  He brushed pine needles off of his knees. “I do.” His smile faltered. “And I wouldn’t say no to one that helped solve Alice’s disappearance.”

  “What did Peter have to say about the locket?”

  “Not much.” His mouth tightened. “He was exhausted so I didn’t get a chance to tell him about Lester. He’s been working hard.”

  Something in his voice was uncertain, wary perhaps?

  Cooper straightened. “I’ll go change and fill him in. Then we can head out.”

  “Head out?”

  “Are you a runner?”

  “Not unless something’s on fire.”

  He grinned. “Okay. I’ll hold myself back to a brisk walk. Let’s go. I need to get out of these sweaty clothes before we leave.” He charged off.

  “Leave for where?” she called, scrambling to catch up with his long-legged strides.

  “You’re planning on going to the lake, aren’t you?”

  How had he known that was her plan? To go to the lake, by herself.

  “There’s no point, really. After twenty years there is nothing left there that will show us what happened to Alice.”

  “Well, we just figured out whoever had her locket was probably there twenty years ago, and that’s more than we’ve known until this moment. Gotta go and see if we can figure out anything, right? Reconstruct the scene? Make like detectives?”

  “Okay,” she said, weakly, mulling in her mind how her plan had suddenly come to include Cooper. “But it’s really going to be a waste of time. I can go by myself, no need for you to...”

  Cooper disappeared around a bend in the path, leaving her talking to herself.

  SIX

  Peter was padding out of the kitchen with a coffee mug clutched in his hand when they arrived. His hair stood up in unruly tufts, and he looked as though he’d slept in his clothes, but Cooper didn’t care. As long as Peter was sober, he could dress however he wanted.

  Cooper introduced Ruby, but there was no need.

  “Yeah, I remember Ruby,” Peter said. He kept his eyes on the rim of his mug as he drank. It was hard to decipher the tone in Peter’s words. It wasn’t quite anger or dismissal.

  “Nice to have the cabin occupied again,” Ruby said.

  Peter nodded, checking his battered Timex. “Gotta get moving. Going to work today.”

  Cooper quashed the hopeful feeling before it could blossom. “Need a lift to town?”

  “Nah. Car’s still okay for a few more miles. I’ll get new tires as soon as I get paid.”

  Cooper wanted to interrogate his brother about their awkward conversation the prior evening, and many other things, but instead he quickly changed into jeans and a T-shirt while Peter turned back to the kitchen for more coffee. Peter did not offer any to Ruby so Cooper did, but she declined, sitting stiffly on the couch as Cooper laced his shoes. “We’re heading to the lake to check on something.”

  “Related to Alice Walker?”

  “Not sure, but there’s something else I meant to tell you.” Cooper recapped the encounter with Lester Walker as briefly as possible for his brother. He kept it factual, leaving out the horror he’d experienced at seeing the box cutter pressed to Ruby’s throat since he still hadn’t had a chance to sort through his own muddled emotions about it. “So if you see him, call the sheriff’s office. Do you have a cell phone?”

  Peter stared at him, face white. “What?”

  “I asked if you have a cell phone?”

  “No, what you said before. About Lester.”

  “We think he’s the guy who attacked Ruby at the Walker cabin.”

  “No.” Peter shook his head, splashing coffee onto the floor. “No, it couldn’t have been Lester Walker.”

  Again the feeling of dread sprang up inside. Cooper restrained himself from exchanging a look with Ruby. “Why do you say that?”

  Peter blinked. “I, what I meant was, Lester beat it out of town a long time ago. He wouldn’t have come back.”

  “You did,” Ruby said. “So why not Lester?”

  He put the mug in the sink. “Dunno. I was just surprised, is all. That he would return, I mean, when there’s nothing here for him.”

  “Josephine’s still here,” Ruby said, quietly. “And she needs him now more than ever.”

  “Yeah. Sure. I see your point. Gonna go shower before I head to town.”

  Cooper walked Ruby outside and pulled the door closed. Her frown told him she thought Peter’s reaction was odd. The instinct to defend kicked up.

  “He’s adjusting to the circumstances, to having all this brought up again.”

  “He seemed certain that Lester couldn’t have r
eturned.”

  “Like I said, he’s got a lot to adjust to.” He read the question in her eyes. “He’s sober,” he snapped, “if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  She flinched. “I never implied that he wasn’t. It’s a long hike. We’d better get started.”

  He let her walk a couple of yards ahead of him, letting the anger die down as his better instincts took over and he jogged to catch up. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m so used to defending my brother, I do it even when he isn’t under attack.”

  She didn’t look at him. “Don’t be too sorry, because I actually was wondering if Peter was sober.”

  Cooper sighed. The spark of anger faded into a dull throb of pain. “I wonder all the time, too. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to trust that he’d truly beaten back the alcoholism. So many times I believed him and every single time he let me down. No, he let himself down.” It hurt to say it, but taking off his armor for a moment helped.

  “That’s a hard situation, a difficult way to grow up.”

  “He’s my brother, and I love him.”

  She reached up on tiptoe and hugged him. She was so delicate, the top of her head reaching just under his chin, her arms twining around his neck. Instinctively, he returned the embrace, warmth speeding through his body, marveling at the softness of her and the comfort he felt with her pressed against him. As she released him, he could see she was surprised at her own impulsiveness. Her cheeks pinked. “You’re a good brother to Peter.”

  Guilt flamed anew. Would a good brother have suspicion slithering through his belly? He stepped back. “Sometimes, I’m not so sure.”

  They took a brisk pace through the forest, the newly risen sun dappling them in gold. His spirits rose, as they always did when he submerged himself in God’s spectacular creation. He tried to keep his mind on the array of wild grasses and tree species, mentally comparing them to the botanical variety in his stomping grounds in the Umatilla.

  They followed the edge of a brush field, abutted on one side by a road that marked the eastern border of the sanctuary property, and on the other, by a dense tangle of shrubbery where a rough-hewn trail promised a route to Sunstone Lake.