Stormer’s Pass

by Benjamin Laskin

  “You went to quite a bit of trouble for us, Ed.”

  “We’re family,” Nancy said. “We’re just glad to help.”

  “I’d like to know how you came across all this. What’s your business here, Ed?”

  “I’m in on a couple of little projects in Pinecrest, that’s all. You know that new mall going up on the west side? My firm has an interest in that. I’ve had to meet with the mayor and a Mr. Austin and a few others, and, well, you hear things. I happened to be having lunch with these fellows when they got the sad news about Ms. Winters. They had a copy of the will and your name was mentioned. You can figure it out from there.”

  “Right. Well, I’m not signing anything right now,” Hardy said. “I want to read this first, and I want to discuss it with Aidos.”

  “Where is that girl?” Nancy said. “I wanted so badly to see her. And we have to leave in the morning.”

  “That’s too bad,” Hardy said. “I know she’ll be disappointed she missed you. Had you given us some warning—”

  “If you had a phone,” his sister said irritably, “we could have. We didn’t know ourselves until the last minute. Besides, we just figured she’d be around. Who’d have thought she’d be out in weather like this. Honestly, just how long are you going to keep Aidos up here?”

  “Honestly,” he said, “I don’t know if we’ll be here another year.”

  “That’s certainly a new development,” Nancy said.

  “Interesting choice of words,” Hardy rejoined.

  Ed and Nancy exchanged guilty glances.

  “What do you mean?” Nancy asked innocently.

  “How could you not have noticed? The barbarians are at our gates.”

  Ed and Nancy shrugged, not understanding.

  “Oh, come on,” Hardy said, “you didn’t notice all the construction going on out there? You drove right past it.”

  “Oh, that,” Nancy said. “I meant to ask you about that.”

  “Yes,” Ed said. “What’s it about?”

  “You know about everything else going on in this town, Ed. It’s hard for me to believe that something of this magnitude could escape your voracious ears. Resort, condos, restaurants—the works.”

  Ed said, “So that’s where they’re putting it? Moonridge. Yeah, I’ve heard of it. Huge deal. It’s going to bring a lot of money into this town. My guess is it’s only the beginning. That’s why we went ahead with this mall. The figures suggest this town is going to boom, and with the highway being widened and extended, making a short cut to the ski areas—”

  “Ed,” Nancy said, “what will that do to his property value?”

  “If you’re really considering leaving,” Ed said, “you stand a chance to make some real money. You’re sitting on some prime real estate here, pal. I’m surprised you haven’t had a few visitors knocking on your door already.”

  “I have.”

  “You see!” Ed said. “Hey, just give me the word and I’ll handle it for you. I know how to deal with these guys. I’ll get you top dollar. My friend Gary Webber—”

  They heard a bang at the door, followed by the sound of it opening and slamming shut. Ed and Nancy turned to Hardy for an explanation. Too apprehensive to look—too overcome with dread to cringe—Hardy closed his eyes and waited for the worst.

  “Hey, Professor!” shouted an excited voice. “Wait till you see what I got you!”

  45

  Trouble In Paradise

  Ed and Nancy heard a crash, followed by a sharp expletive. Max Stormer appeared squeezing through the doorway, a porcelain sink hoisted on his shoulder. He grinned, nodded convivially to the guests, and headed up the stairs. Beowulf, excited at the sight of his friend, trotted up behind him. Hardy rose to lend a hand.

  “I got it,” Max said. “But I dropped some stuff in the kitchen.”

  “Where did you get it?” Hardy asked.

  “I did a job for the Goodbeas,” he explained between gasps as he climbed the stairs. “Fixing up their bathroom. … Replaced their old sink. … They were just going to throw it away. … I remembered yours was in bad shape…”

  “Nice. So they gave it to you?”

  “Not exactly.” Max set the sink down at the top of the stairs with a dull thud. He shook his arm, rubbed his shoulder, rolled his head, and wiped the sweat from his brow. “After I told Mrs. Goodbea that I had a use for it,” he continued after a deep breath, “she thought I should pay for it. You owe me twenty bucks.”

  “How did you get it here? I didn’t hear a car pull up.”

  “I hoofed it.”

  “Max, that’s crazy.”

  “I can’t disagree.” He rubbed at the ache in his shoulder. “But a heck of a good workout.” Max boarded the staircase railing and slid gracefully down. He strutted up to Ed and extended his hand. “Max Stormer,” he said, as if he could have added the appellation, ‘Duke of Normandy’ or ‘King of Macedonia,’ without blinking an eye.

  Ed shook Max’s hand, astonished by its size. It swallowed Ed’s beefy fist like a first baseman’s mitt.

  “We meet again,” Max said, turning to Mrs. Boswell and offering his hand. Nancy smiled cordially and shook. The young man’s hand felt warm and soft, and emitted a vitality that she found uncomfortable. Max stepped back, fists to hips.

  Hardy returned from the kitchen. He held a large monkey wrench in one hand, and in the other, a clutch of wooden stakes with orange ribbons.

  “What’s all this?” Hardy asked.

  “Firewood. There’s more outside.”

  Mr. Thoreson tossed the sticks into the fireplace.

  “If you want,” Max said, “I can get on the sink now or I can come back tomorrow. It shouldn’t take me long to install it.”

  “I’d like to help,” Hardy said, “so how about tomorrow?”

  Within the course of their short exchange, Ed and Nancy took the opportunity to size up the young man. In his hiking boots and winter coat, Max looked bigger than his athletically trim body actually was. Nancy was both attracted and repelled by his rugged good looks. She admitted to herself that he was very handsome. She thought he had gorgeous hair; dark, thick and wavy, but was sorely in need of cutting. The youth’s eyes were pellucid blue, and they shined, she believed, undeservedly pure. She noticed the small scar over his right eye, and it symbolized for her all the character imperfections that she supposed him to have.

  Ed’s scrutiny was what might be expected from a balding, overweight, middle-aged man. Max Stormer was bracing; he had the effect of an open door on a cold winter night. The mountain air walked in with him. Ed envied the young man’s Apollonian health and beauty. Even in his youth, Ed never looked or felt like a Greek statue. If anything, he resembled a Renaissance depiction of a rosy-cheeked and chubby cherub.

  “Where’s Aidos?” Nancy asked. “Mr. Thoreson said you two were out walking together.”

  Max glanced across the room and saw the professor shrug in surrender.

  “Oh…she’s out there somewhere.”

  “You mean you don’t know?” Nancy said, incredulous. “You just abandoned her in those snowy woods?”

  “She’s fine,” Max said. “She’s with Steve, a good friend. Big guy. There’s nothing to worry about. They went for a walk along Stonehenge Creek, I think. I’d have gone too,” he raised his chin, indicating the sink at the top of the staircase, “but it was getting a little heavy.”

  Nancy smirked. “I would think your big friend might have helped you carry it up here so that you could all go together.”

  “Not a big deal,” he said good-naturedly.

  “Well,” she said, “It makes no sense to me, but I guess… I was just hoping to see her.” She turned to her husband. “What do you say we go now, Ed?”

  Mr. Thoreson slapped his thighs and rose, as if readying to walk them out.

  They heard another bang at the door, followed by a booming voice, “Max!”

  Hardy and Max exchanged looks of ‘uh-oh.’

/>   Steve Hanson appeared in the doorway, breathing heavily, his huge figure filling the frame with each heave of his breath. He didn’t bother to acknowledge Hardy or his visitors.

  “Max,” Steve said, waving him over. Max walked over and Steve grabbed his arm and tugged him into the kitchen. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

  “Shh. What is it?”

  “The sheriff is looking for you. His men are combing the town.”

  “Boy, that was fast.”

  “What did you do now?”

  Max shrugged. “It could be any number of things.”

  “Does it have to do with Moonridge? The place is swarming with cops. I saw the sheriff’s Bronco there.”

  “Good bet.”

  “Jeezus, Max. You’ve really done it this time—”

  “Is anything wrong?” Nancy called out. “Where’s Aidos? Why isn’t she with you?”

  “Who’s that?” Steve asked.

  “Aidos’ aunt. She thinks Aidos is with you.”

  “With me? She doesn’t know?”

  Max shook his head.

  “Damn,” Steve said. “What do I tell her?”

  “Fellas…?” Mr. Boswell called out.

  “Her uncle?”

  Max nodded.

  Hardy entered the kitchen, a look of deep concern on his face.

  “Guys, what’s up?”

  “There’s a posse after me, Slim.”

  “What did you do now?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think you should start stoking the rest of those sticks I brought you…”

  Mr. Thoreson glanced back into the den and eyed the orange-tagged stakes on the woodpile. He frowned.

  Max said, “I hear cars coming.” Thinking quickly he said, “Steve, take the professor’s keys and drive out and meet them. It’s a narrow road. Pretend that you’re stalled out so they can’t get by. They’ll have to back up and go around. It’ll buy me a little time. Meet me at Plato’s Cave later tonight.”

  “Right.”

  “Max,” Mr. Thoreson said, “maybe you should talk to them.”

  “I want to know what they want first,” he said. “Hurry, Steve.”

  “The keys are on the hook,” Hardy said, pointing to the wall by the front door.

  Steve slapped Max on the shoulder, grabbed the keys, and hustled out the door.

  Max and Hardy returned to the den. The professor strolled casually over to the fireplace and began tossing the rest of the survey stakes into the fire. They heard the roar of an engine and the spewing of gravel.

  “Well,” Max said, opening the back door. “I had better be running along now. I’m wanted back in town. Bye—” He turned, and took off running.

  Ed said, “Something’s up.”

  “I thought Aidos was with that other boy,” Nancy said. “That was him, wasn’t it?”

  They heard horns blasting angrily in the distance.

  “What is going on?” Nancy said. “Where’s Aidos?”

  Hardy stood up from tending the fire. The tip of the poker he was using was cherry red. “Okay,” he said. “I didn’t want to worry you, but Aidos isn’t here. She’s…left.”

  “Left?” Ed said. “As in gone away?”

  “That’s right…but she’ll be back.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” Ed said, growing irate. “Where the hell did she go?”

  “Camping.”

  “For God’s sake,” Nancy said, “stop joking.”

  “I’m not.”

  Nancy rose nervously to her feet. “But you can’t be serious. It’s the middle of winter!”

  “Who’s she with?” Ed asked.

  “Nobody.”

  Nancy threw her arms in the air. “I don’t believe my ears! I can’t believe you’d allow—”

  Ed said, “How long has she been gone, Thoreson?”

  “Five—”

  “Five days!” Nancy exclaimed. “Are you mad? And you have no idea where she is? Unbelievable! I just can’t believe anyone could be so…so… You’re a monster!”

  “Five days?” Ed said, still trying to wrap his mind around the absurdity.

  “Months,” Hardy said softly. “Five months.”

  An excruciating silence followed. Ed and Nancy exchanged looks of horror. Ed sprang from his chair and charged at Hardy like a bulldog. Nancy screamed. Beowulf barked. Reacting quickly, Hardy raised the red-hot poker in front of him, halting Ed in his tracks.

  “Sit down, Ed,” Hardy said calmly.

  “You deranged maniac!”

  “The poor thing,” Nancy blubbered. “A girl can’t survive out there like that. Oh, Ed, she’s probably… Ed, she’s—”

  “You lunatic! I’m gonna—” Ed made another play for Hardy, but again he fended him off with the poker.

  “She’s fine,” Hardy insisted. “You don’t know her like I do. She’s fine. I’m sure of it.”

  “Ed,” Nancy cried, hysterical with anguish. “Let’s go! We have to tell somebody. We have to do something!”

  “Okay, okay.” He backed off and stabbed a furious finger at his brother-in-law. “That’s it for you, pal,” he seethed. “God willing, if by some miracle that girl is still alive, you’ll never see her again! I’ve got you—here!” He smacked his palm with a clenched fist. “You’ll never see her again.” He turned to his wife. “Let’s get out of this lunatic asylum.”

  They stormed out of the house just as four cars pulled up. At the head was the sheriff’s Bronco, its red beacon flashing. The sheriff bounded from his vehicle and signaled to the others to case the area. It was dusk and flakes of snow drifted through the air.

  “Good evening, Mr. Boswell,” the sheriff greeted. He was a tall, lean man with red, bushy eyebrows, freckles, a drooping mustache, and gray teeth.

  “Roger, how ya doin’?” He shook the sheriff’s hand. “What’s going on here?”

  “Bad news, sir. Someone was messing around at your Moonridge site. I’m afraid he caused quite a bit of damage.”

  Ed glanced behind at his brother-in-law. Hardy, the poker still in his hand, shook his head. “I should have known.”

  “I’m not talking to you,” Ed snarled. “If I see you again, it’ll be in court.” He turned back to the sheriff. “What kind of damage?”

  “Half of the machinery was put out of commission. Tractors, bulldozers, trucks—useless.”

  “Where was the watchman, for Chrissakes?”

  “We found him tied and gagged. He didn’t see anything. Whoever did it snuck up behind him and put him out cold.”

  “What do you mean, useless?”

  “Whoever did it knew what he was doing. You got a million bucks worth of scrap metal over there, Mr. Boswell.”

  “Bastard… Do you have any idea who did it?”

  “A good idea.”

  “Who?”

  “A kid from town. You wouldn’t know him.”

  “Max Stormer?”

  “You know him?”

  “He just left here five minutes ago. He said he was headed back to Pinecrest.”

  “Well, damn, he couldn’t have gotten far.” The sheriff whistled to his men. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Boswell. We’ll get the little turd.”

  Ed said, “You sure it was him?”

  “No, but he’s a prime suspect. Always has been a kind of troublemaker. Knows how to wield a wrench too. Just last week he fixed my Bronco here. Had the whole damn engine apart. Runs as good as new now.” He laughed. “Fifty bucks, what a steal.”

  “You have any proof he did it?”

  Two deputies returned from their search. One held a handful of orange-tagged survey stakes. “Found them by the woodshed,” he said.

  The sheriff smirked. He grabbed one and pointed it at Hardy Thoreson. “Hey, you,” he said. “You wanna tell me about these things?”

  “No.”

  The sheriff turned to Ed. “Survey stakes. They were all pulled up, ev
ery last one of them. Damn inconvenient.”

  “I saw the kid bring some into the house. It didn’t occur to me…”

  “There’s your proof, Mr. Boswell.” He turned to his men. “Hank, Willy, Bob, return to town. He might have gone back there. Tom, Jim, Carl, grab your torches and fan out into the woods.”

  The sheriff approached Mr. Thoreson. The moment he set foot on the porch steps, Beowulf, who was heeling by the professor’s side, let out a menacing growl.

  “Whoa, big boy,” the sheriff said, backing down. “I just want to ask a few questions.”

  “I have nothing to say to you and this is private property, so leave.”

  “Ed,” Nancy said, tugging at his arm. “Aidos.”

  “Roger?”

  “Yeah?” the sheriff said, his eyes still narrowed on Mr. Thoreson’s own pugnacious glare.

  “What do I do about getting a search party for a missing girl?”

  “What?”

  “My niece, she’s out there somewhere lost in the woods.”

  “What the hell is she doing out there?”

  “Never mind that. We have to find her.”

  “How long has she been gone?”

  “Five months.”

  “The hell! And only now you think about looking for her?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Damn, Mr. Boswell. What’cha think you’re gonna find out there after that long? I hate to say this, but—”

  “Roger, what do we need to do?”

  “Yeah, okay. Damn… Meet me back at the station. Jeezus, what a day.”

  “One hour,” Mr. Boswell said. “Thanks, Roger.” He and Nancy got into their car and backed away. The sheriff shook his head and walked off towards the woods where one of his men was searching about with a flashlight.

  Hardy Thoreson sat down on the porch step, his arm around Beowulf. He stared distantly into the snow-blanketed woods. “Oh, Julie,” he sighed.

  46

  Fugitive

  Max Stormer sat on a large rock alongside the creek below Plato’s Cave, eating from a can of beans. He heard the approach of voices and the sound of footsteps in the snow. Max scraped the last beans from the can with his spoon and set the can aside. He hopped off the boulder and walked to the edge of the creek. He knelt down, cupped the icy water in his hands, and drank until quenched. He dried his stinging hands on his face and neck, and down the front of his jeans.