Shawn used to be an optimist. At least, that was how she’d always thought of him. The thought jarred her. They’d been apart for over a decade, but she’d still known him longer than she hadn’t. People changed faster once they were adults, though.
“But where will we put him?” she asked. “I suppose the cold will help preserve the body.” The branches of the trees surrounding them rustled with the breeze. She knew better than most what lurked in the shadows. “Won’t animals...?” She didn’t want to speak the question aloud, either. Law enforcement wouldn’t be able to properly investigate the man’s death if wild scavengers found him first. The haunting howl of the coyotes sounded again, confirming her thoughts.
“Thankfully, we have his keys.” Shawn leaned over the man. He removed the key from the ignition but left the headlights on. He stomped over to the trunk of the covered cab. His entire hand shook as he tried to insert the key into the lock. “Getting them to work is another matter.”
“If you’re not going to take the coat back, at least let me help you.” She took the key from his hand and unlocked it. The back opened to reveal a metal detector, a duffel bag, a jug of partly frozen water, a wool blanket, an emergency car repair kit and a backpack. A backpack usually contained snacks if someone was out hiking in the wilderness. “Shawn...”
“Go ahead and take stock of supplies, but please tell me the contents before you use anything.”
He disappeared back to the front of the truck. She emptied the emergency car kit for its first-aid kit, emergency blanket and the day/night flare in case they needed it for a fire starter, but she left behind the jumper cables. The main zippered compartment of the backpack revealed beef jerky, a tuna packet, trail mix, four disposable water bottles that were on their way to being frozen but were still liquid, and a box of chocolate-covered almonds. “Oh, you were a good man.” Her voice wavered as she realized that their best chance of survival was now because a man had died.
“I’m not so sure about that.” Shawn stomped in the snow with—she gasped—the man in question over his shoulder. He grunted and maneuvered the man off his shoulder, into his arms and inside the bed of the truck.
The man wore a short, padded coat, jeans, a cap and tennis shoes. Shawn turned the man’s face away from her view so she could only see the back of his head. A kind gesture, but try as she might, she couldn’t fool her mind into thinking that he was just sleeping.
The wind gusted enough to shift the truck ever so slightly to the right. Desperation for warmth kept her from crying out over the dead man. The thought jarred her. Two men had died in one day and she’d almost been added to their number. Her eyelids felt like they might freeze closed as she blinked away the hot moisture.
“I’ll check this one.” Shawn reached across her and unzipped the duffel bag. On top of a pile of fabrics of some sort sat metal trinkets, some covered in mud, a pair of binoculars and what looked like an arrowhead. “He definitely wasn’t up to any good if this is any indication.”
Underneath, the items proved more interesting. “Shawn. Are those clothes?”
He pulled out gloves, a parka, extra socks and snow pants. Shawn gave a solemn nod. “Ill-intentioned or not, he was prepared for the elements.” He gestured to the backpack. “Let’s take this and the duffel and see if we can get the heat on.”
They closed the covered bed of the truck. The back of her neck tightened with guilt over using the dead man’s truck, but they couldn’t start a fire without a couple of hours of gathering supplies and fighting the wind. Even if they managed to create a spark, the smoke and flames would act as a beacon to those who’d likely killed him. They really had no other choice but to utilize the supplies.
She stuck the duffel in the back seat for easy access and slipped into the passenger side of the truck. Shawn’s open door made it feel like she’d entered a wind tunnel. She bit her lip to keep from telling him to hurry up as he took more photos of the empty driver’s seat and the floor. She tucked her chin deeper into the coat until he finally slipped into the driver’s side. The moment he shut the door, her skin burned with a strong intensity, as if her brain finally thought it was safe to give her body permission to acknowledge the full extent of what she’d been through. No more denial to survive, to keep moving. Everything hurt.
Shawn shoved the key into the ignition. “Let’s hope this works.” He clicked the key over and the engine revved to life. He flipped the thermostat to the reddest portion but kept the fan on low. She pulled off the gloves and held her hands up to the air vent. Cold air blasted, but it was warmer than outside.
Shawn twisted and contorted in his seat. “That parka looked warm.”
“You should take your coat back.”
“No, this will be fine.” He struggled in the small space until he succeeded in putting on the thinner coat. But at least it had a hood. He cleared his throat. “He may not have been a law-abiding citizen, but I’d like to think he would’ve helped us.” He shrugged. “I’d like to think that anyone would have compassion in such conditions.”
There was the Shawn she remembered, the one who found the silver lining. Even though she knew from covering the news for years that the sentiment wasn’t true, she remained silent. She bristled against his mention of compassion.
Now that she finally had reprieve from the wind and cold, her mind wanted to give full attention to the unsatisfactory answer he’d given her back on the trail. The only thing he’d do differently all those years ago was to say goodbye? Her throat tightened at the thought.
What had she expected him to say? Oh, dearest Jackie, that night was the biggest mistake of my life. I should’ve begged for your forgiveness right then because I loved you, and I’ve never stopped thinking about you.
She knew the pretend speech too well because she’d imagined Shawn proclaiming such things on a loop in the days after he’d left. She hadn’t recalled the imaginary teenage interchange in years, though. If Shawn had actually said something similar on the trail moments ago, she might’ve felt more satisfied with his answer. But then what?
The question perplexed her, which probably indicated there would’ve been an awkward silence.
Shawn handed her a pair of wool socks. “Here.”
Thoughtful gestures didn’t help to put her mind to rest. Simply having dry fabric against her toes was enough to cause her eyes to well up with gratitude, but she refused to shed tears.
The air shifted. Heat!
Shawn turned the fan on full blast before she had a chance. In a few short hours, she’d be able to put all the internal drama in the back of her mind, where it belonged. Because even if Shawn had given an awesome explanation about the past, they couldn’t pick up a relationship where they’d left off.
Her job was in Boise and his was hours away, in the middle of nowhere. He obviously still adored spending his time in the wild, while she refused to even camp. And how could she ever trust a man who left like that, without so much as a word? She leaned forward, anxious to focus on other things. “So can we head for the road now?”
Shawn turned to face her, his eyes widening. He stared at her for an uncomfortable few seconds, as if he expected her to remember something and speak first.
“What?”
He frowned and shook his head. “Jackie, we won’t be able to drive this anywhere. I thought you’d realized.”
“Thought I realized what?” She leaned forward, peering out of the windshield. “I know the truck hit the tree, but neither looks the worse for wear. I don’t think the tree will fall on us if we back away. Is it a flat tire? I’m not happy about it, but I’m capable and willing to wrestle out the spare if it means we can leave tonight.”
He shook his head sadly, so she pressed on. “I’m even willing to stand outside and guide you through these trees. It shouldn’t take long to get to some solid snowpack. You know the area well enough that you won’t
drive us off a cliff, right?”
He didn’t blink. “That’s not the issue.”
“We can beat the worst of the storm. It hasn’t even started snowing yet.” Like a cruel trick, thick snowflakes floated down to the windshield. Her shoulders sagged. “I still say we can make it to civilization tonight if we try.”
“The back axle, Jackie. It’s broken clean in two.”
Please let him be wrong. She straightened. “Are you sure? I have a bit of experience with fix—”
“I know.” He gestured to her door. “Whoever drove the truck here rode right over a massive log. The truck bed is being held in place by it. My guess is they planned to park this thing elsewhere, but after the break, they made do.”
She peeked at the side mirror. The right tire tilted inward at a forty-five-degree angle. She should be thankful the truck sat fully upright. There went her dreams of nice warm accommodations for the beginning of her Christmas vacation.
She opened the backpack and pulled out two granola bars. Shawn accepted one and ripped off the wrapper. He finished it in three bites. She wasn’t much slower. “Why do you think they meant to park the truck elsewhere? I’m guessing you don’t think he died from a heart attack. Seems to me you’re implying that it’s murder.”
He eyed her. “This is off the record, too, but surely you noticed his smell.”
“Like he’d been dunked in whiskey? Yes.” If she noticed things on her own, she didn’t need him to be on the record. In fact, maybe if she got the scoop on the murders, she could finally get the promotion she wanted and never have to accept stories out in the wilderness again, despite her dad being the one and only Wolfe Dutton.
“Or some sort of alcohol,” Shawn said. “The front of Darrell’s coat had the strongest smell, but there was no liquor bottle in the car.”
“He could’ve finished off his drink first. Elsewhere.”
“True. But then I got into the truck without having to adjust the seat.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Darrell was a good five inches shorter than me.” He glanced down at the coat. “At least he had a long torso.”
So if someone else had been driving the truck, that person most likely moved the body to the driver’s-side seat and staged the death to look like a drunk-driving accident. “You’re saying that we’re stuck in a truck that won’t drive, with a dead man in the back who may or may not have been murdered by the same man that tried to kill me—or another dangerous murderer—and all with a blizzard on the way.”
He rubbed both hands together and exhaled. Despite the truck’s heater, his breath still made a foggy cloud. “I’m saying it’s time to accept that we’re operating in survival mode.”
* * *
Shawn didn’t regret his words, but he wasn’t sure Jackie understood the severity of their situation yet. With the park closed so close to Christmas and the impending winter storm, murderers after them or not, every decision they made from this moment on would contribute to whether they lived or died.
He opened his photo album on the phone. He’d taken over a hundred shots because he never knew what would prove to be an important detail in the light of day. He flicked to the image that still perplexed him.
“So we’re here all night?” Jackie asked.
“Yes.”
“Are we hoping to be rescued?”
“I think the best we can hope for is that we aren’t discovered by whoever planted Darrell’s body here. I assume they were trying to make it look like an accident, so it seems unlikely they’d return, but I’m ready for them if they do.” He patted the holster that sat on top of the console in between their seats.
She glanced at his phone and rummaged in her pockets until she pulled out hers. “I don’t suppose we have a signal.”
“Sorry, no.” He tilted his screen in Jackie’s direction. The photo that was bothering him only included the man’s black ski jacket. He pointed at the white streak on the bottom hem in the photo. “That stain looked fresh.”
She had her arms wrapped around herself but leaned forward, squinting. “You think it’s an important detail?”
“Probably not, but you had a very similar spot on your jacket. Of course, you’d also slid off a cliff.”
“That mark wasn’t from the cliff. I accidentally brushed up against something during the tour of the construction site. They use some special latex paint for extreme temperatures. Each coat takes a couple days to dry, apparently. The foreman apologized and said it only needed another hour or so to cure.” She shrugged. “I chalked it up to my good timing.”
“So it’s possible Darrell was at the construction site, as well.”
She looked upward, as if in deep thought. “I noticed he wore tennis shoes. Seemed like an odd choice of footwear to be out in this thick of snow. Especially when he’d packed boots and had a metal detector.”
“There’s cement paths that I assume were cleared when you took the tour today?”
“Yes. I guess if he was going to stick to the paths, that makes sense, but still seems odd.” She handed him back his phone. “Why’d you imply he wasn’t a good man?”
He grabbed the wool blanket they’d retrieved from the duffel and folded it into a rectangle so they could both use half if he stretched it lengthwise. “It’s a felony to even keep a metal detector in your vehicle on federal lands, let alone use it. We suspected him of ruining some historic sites.”
“Why was he a suspect?”
“I don’t have proof, but I’ve seen this truck on the land before. I spotted him a couple months ago through my binoculars on my rounds, from one of the higher vantage points. He had that metal detector with him, but he got away before I was close enough to get his license plate number. When the missing person photo came through with the vehicle description, as well, I knew it was him.”
“Are hikers with metal detectors common?”
“Most detectorists follow the law and only search in legal areas with permission, but there’s always a few that treat it more like a moneymaking scheme than a hobby. They don’t care about preserving history. They think they’re entitled to do or take anything they want on federal land.” He shook his head. “I’m still angry about the gouges I found on a section of the Oregon Trail. Those wagon ruts survived all this time until someone took a shovel to them. Probably all for a rusty nail.”
Her forehead creased. “What did you call him?”
“Darrell?”
“No, the other thing.”
“A detectorist. Someone who uses a metal detector.”
“Oh. I might’ve filled in the blanks incorrectly.” Her wide eyes turned his way. “The murder I witnessed... The man didn’t actually say he was upset about a detective.”
He caught on instantly. “You think you misheard?”
“He said detect, but he was interrupted. My brain just finished the word for him. I didn’t think there could be another option, but he might’ve been upset about a detectorist.”
Shawn knew witnesses could be unreliable for that very reason. The brain had an uncanny way of trying to help along anything that didn’t make sense. “So it’s possible the two men were fighting about Darrell. Especially if it turns out he’d been on the property.”
“Yes. But why would they be upset? What could he have seen or found? Or maybe he was behind the sabotage, but why?” Her face was animated and a good reminder that she was a journalist.
“If we knew that, maybe we’d know why two men are dead. It’s probably best to let the matter rest.” His phone screen taunted him with the words No Service still at the top of the screen.
Even with the new information, there was nothing he could do without calling for backup. His first priority was to get Jackie to safety. The archaeologist’s trailer still seemed to be the best course of action. There would be supplies, a generator and, most important, a satellite p
hone. “At first light, we get to that trailer.”
“I’m assuming you’ve never hiked this route to the trailer?”
“You’d be right.”
She opened the glove compartment. “Maybe the guy had a terrain map of some sort?” She searched and found nothing except the truck’s manual and registration.
At least she didn’t argue that they should attempt to get to the trailer after nightfall. She knew as well as he did that hiking in such conditions was a recipe for death, but it’d been over a decade since she’d practiced wilderness skills, despite her memory of rappelling knots. It took training and practice to keep the skills up to par to face whatever the wilderness threw at him. But Jackie wasn’t the type of person to keep her opinions quiet. At least, she didn’t used to be.
In fact, he was a little surprised she’d let the topic of his leaving town abruptly go so easily. She hadn’t said another word about it since he’d answered her on the trail.
She pulled out a container of chocolate-covered almonds. “I know we should probably ration our food, but that granola bar wasn’t enough for dinner. And these are my favorite.” She popped one in her mouth and offered him the container.
“Since when are these your favorite?” The moment the question left his mouth, he regretted it. A moment ago he was thankful she’d let the past go, and yet he’d just invited discussion. “I only meant I thought nuts were banned at your house.”
She nodded and popped another in her mouth. “My mom is allergic to peanuts and tree nuts, but as soon as I went to college, I discovered that chocolate tastes better when paired with nuts. Even the chocolate itself tastes better. I’m serious,” she said. “Just let it melt in your mouth and then spit out the nut, and you’ll see I’m right. Better than normal chocolate. You know what I mean? Try it.”
Wilderness Sabotage Page 5