Siege at Hawthorn Lake: Murder on the Mountain

by Paul G Buckner

  Phil waited for what he thought was about fifteen minutes or so without seeing or hearing anything moving. Not that he would hear much in the soft powdery snow. He slowly crawled out of his hiding spot and moved toward the edge of the lake scanning everywhere he could for any sign of the creature. He was frozen stiff and exhausted, but the adrenaline rush helped to keep him moving forward. It took only a few minutes to get to the lake then he made his way along the edge toward the bridge. Once he got there he stopped and looked up at the bridge and all around the area closely. Seeing nothing further, he made the decision to cross.

  He was about eight feet below the bottom of the bridge railings standing just on the edge of the lake. The steep incline would be difficult to climb, but it was either climb up here and cross or back-track and come down from the road to the bridge. The bridge was a trestle style and about a hundred feet across. The water looked fairly deep beneath it, but it was certainly too cold to try and swim across. He decided that he would try to climb up the snow covered bank and cross now. He didn’t know what time of day it was, but he didn’t want to be stuck on this side of the bridge when it got dark.

  Moving cautiously, he leaned into the side of the incline and put both hands on the ground in front of him to get as much traction as he could. It would be slippery, but hopefully on all fours, it wouldn’t present too much of a problem. He put one foot up and then reached up with the opposite hand inching his way up the slippery slope. For every foot he gained, he lost half of it sliding back down. It was exhausting and he had to lie flat every few minutes just to catch his breath. His lungs were screaming and his legs felt like frozen popsicles. He could barely bend them at his knees in order to climb up the slope. Finally reaching the crest of the eight foot hill, he peered over, scanning both the bridge and the road. Seeing nothing, he lurched for one of the metal railings to pull himself up, but it was frozen over with ice and snow causing him to lose his grip and fall backwards down the snowy embankment.

  Tumbling over backwards and sliding down, Phil splashed into the edge of the water. He desperately grasped for anything to cling to, but came up empty handed. There was a ring of ice around the edge of the lake and he had nothing to pull himself up with. He tried kicking one of his legs up on the edge, but fell back into the water submerging briefly before popping back up. He was genuinely scared and began to panic as he struggled.

  Gasping for air, he resurfaced and struggled to find a solid surface to cling to, but his gloves only found the slick surface of the snow covered bank. The edge of the lake wasn’t particularly deep, but the muddy bottom below wouldn’t allow for a solid foot hold. The water soaked his clothing rapidly making it heavier by the second. He was weakening and his struggle became sheer terror as he knew he would surely die. He tried leaping out onto the bank, but he didn’t have enough strength or any hand holds. Clawing madly, he slipped back in again and went under.

  He began to fade; his body was slowly succumbing to the frigid waters of the lake. His muscles screamed for oxygen and he continued to struggle to move, but his arms and legs had no more strength to give. He began to lose consciousness.

  +++

  Sheriff Blaine saw the headlights of the deputy’s truck in his rear view mirror, took one last puff on his cigarette, rolled up his window and stepped out. He grabbed a black balaclava and slipped it on followed by his bright red parka with the word, Sheriff, emblazoned on the front and back. Before he closed up his parka completely, he opened the black case and pulled out the .454 Casull and strapped it into a shoulder holster underneath his coat. Grabbing a handful of extra rounds and dropping them in his pocket he turned to meet his deputies.

  Larson’s truck stopped next to the sheriff and three doors opened almost simultaneously. Nick knew that his dispatcher understood what he was trying to tell her about the situation. He didn’t want any more than what he offered over the radio to go out publicly; not until he knew for sure what he was actually dealing with. He wasn’t certain if the other two men were truly missing or not. If they were, then they would do a preliminary search while calling in for more emergency personnel. With any luck, the two men would be found sitting in front of the fireplace back at Troy’s cabin. Better safe than sorry.

  “I guess the roads are getting even worse?” The sheriff asked as a way of greeting.

  “Yeah, I think we made pretty good time though. No way can the road crews keep up with this storm. I take it we’re headed to Turner’s cabin to look for his two hunting buddies?” Larson replied.

  The sheriff brought the men up to speed with Deputy Larson filling in a few blank spots. They unloaded the sleds and set out for the cabin. It wouldn’t take long to reach it on the snowmobiles, but there wouldn’t be much daylight left to work with. The dark, gray overcast didn’t truly allow much in the way of daylight anyway.

  The sheriff led the men in a staggered formation down the snow covered road keeping a vigilant eye out for any sign of man or beast. The wind was brutal coming down off the snowcapped mountain though the snow had let up some. Each member of the team wore the same brightly colored red parka, black helmet and goggles to protect the eyes from the vicious wind and driven snow. They all also wore their service weapons within easy reach and rifles in scabbards on the snowmobiles. They knew that if there was an injured bear around it may get dangerous in a hurry.

  Blaine suddenly held up his left hand signaling a stop. He pointed to a tree on the side of the road.

  “Wait here.”

  He turned his sled off the road and drove down the hill coming to a stop on the back side of the tree. Turning off the ignition, he walked around and took a closer look examining it carefully. He could clearly see the damage to the tree and the ruts in the snow and mud. He knew right away that it was the one that Troy had hit with the Jeep.

  “Looks like this is where Turner drove off the road. Tree is scarred up quite a bit and these branches didn’t break off from the weight of the snow,” he told the men as he climbed back on his machine. “Let’s get on up to the cabin and see what we can find there.”

  Rounding a gentle curve in the road, the bridge came in to full view. Sheriff Blaine took the lead and rode up the incline and began crossing followed closely by Billy, then Pete with Noland bringing up the rear. Once on the other side of the lake bridge, the road curved back around and followed the edge of the lake all the way to the cabin. They were only about ten minutes away now and their senses were on high alert, scanning the tree line meticulously.

  By the time the small company of officers pulled up to the cabin it was getting dark. A big 4x4 Ford truck sat parked in the driveway and lights were visible on the inside of the cabin. From the looks of it, the truck hadn’t moved since the snow first started. There were no tracks around it and the snow was more than a foot deep on the hood and cab.

  The sheriff signaled to the deputies to check around the property while he and Larson checked inside. He reached down and turned off the ignition, climbed off and removed his goggles and helmet. Deputy Larson followed suit and they both climbed the stairs. Billy gave a big rap on the door and when no one answered, he nodded to the sheriff and walked around to the back of the house. Sheriff Blaine gave Billy enough time to get around to the back and then rapped on the door once again, this time calling out.

  “This is Sheriff Blaine of Hawthorn County. Anyone home?” He reached for the door knob, gave it a quick turn and pushed.

  He pulled his sidearm out of its hip holster and slowly walked in. The lights were on in the entire house, but it was eerily silent. He noticed the blood stains right away and the gun lying on the couch. Hearing Billy enter through the back door, he pointed out the blood and motioned for him to check upstairs while he cleared the lower section. A few minutes later they met back in the living room.

  “Nothing Sheriff. Nothing, but wet puddles of water on the floor and blood. No sign of any of the men upstairs.”

  “Nothing outside Sheriff!” Pete said as he pushed
through the half closed front door to walk in.

  “Stop right there Pete,” the Sheriff exclaimed, motioning at the blood on the floor. “What did you find outside?”

  “Well, doesn’t look like that truck has moved in quite some time. Not since the snow started anyway. Looks like there was a four wheeler or off road vehicle of some kind that left from the front porch area leading toward the mountain and the doors are still wide open on the garage. Those tracks from there seem to be leading out to the driveway. Those are wider so I’m thinking that was probably the Jeep. No other tracks of any kind around the house or perimeter. The snow could’ve covered anything in a matter of minutes though. We also cleared the garage. Nothing!”

  “From the looks of it Sheriff, whoever was bleeding got patched up in the sink. I’m sure all this water is melted snow from their boots, but there’s blood on the counter next to the sink along with some scissors and tape. It looks like they left in a hurry. Do you think they were fighting or something?”

  “Doesn’t look like much of a struggle. Nothing is turned over or out of place. It’s odd really! I found blood on the door frame to that back bedroom too. When I went to see Turner at the hospital he was banged up pretty good, but I don’t think this blood is his.” Nick said.

  “Doesn’t look like that rifle on the couch has been fired in a while either.” Billy said, as he carefully examined the weapon. “No sign of the other two men, but all their gear is still here,” he continued, motioning to the front door. “If they’re not here, then that means they’re out there somewhere!”

  “Storm’s on top of us now and it’s not going to let up anytime soon,” the sheriff stated. “Boys, we have one man in the hospital and two missing hunters. We also have a blasted winter snow storm that could turn to white out conditions on us at any time. If we don’t find them fast, we may not find them at all. If they’re out there and alive, they may not be for long in this weather!”

  Chapter 18

  Zachariah Blanchard was a tall, lean man with silver hair and steel gray eyes. He was comfortable in his late fifties and in great physical shape. One would not have guessed from the way he was dressed in simple work clothes driving the huge D9 dozer that he was the wealthy owner of Blanchard General Contractors, Inc. He built the business up from nothing to make it the success that it was today. The company had construction contracts all over the country and employed hundreds of people.

  Today found him working a site in his hometown area of Hawthorn. Zach grew up in Hawthorn, and married right after college. He and his wife, Megan, were very active residents and a highly respected family. He enjoyed rolling up his sleeves and getting dirty with the work crews when his schedule permitted it. This was one project that he was definitely hands on with.

  The project was a new private resort and spa in the mountains overlooking one of the beautiful valleys below. The area was one that had not been developed and would be extremely exclusive and private. The resort was scheduled for completion in eighteen months with plans including a main hotel with one-hundred twelve rooms, several private cabins, a spa, an indoor pool and a great hall for entertaining. Due to the recent snow storm, work was all but shut down on the project, but Zach was on the dozer to clear the access road to allow the workers to make it in and out.

  Today, he was working alone. He enjoyed the few times that he could simply climb on the machines and move dirt. It wasn’t something that he had the luxury of doing much of these days. He was usually much too busy running the company which left no time to play on the heavy machines. It was peaceful and calming allowing him time to think and destress.

  Zach had been staying in one of the trailers on the job site and had sent the work crew home just before the storm had set in. He had opted to stay on site and keep an eye on things himself.

  The backup alarm on the giant Cat sounded, Beep, beep, beep, as he dragged his blade to smooth out an area in the frozen roadway before moving on. The snow had stopped for the day, but it had dumped more than two feet over the last few days.

  He shifted the heavy duty transmission into forward, readjusted his blade and slowly moved forward pushing earth and snow off the roadway with ease. The roar of the 410hp diesel engine was a testament to the power of the behemoth. The frozen ground and snow was no match for the dozer and easily gave way. Suddenly, something caught Zach’s eye causing him to avert his attention farther up the roadway. Something moved on the side of the road. He was sure it was a deer or possibly an elk. Taking time to stop the dozer, he watched the area for it to come into site again. Zach rubbed his eyes in disbelief when the creature stepped out from behind a tree.

  The beast was covered from head to foot in heavy black fur, walked upright and was every bit of eight feet tall. It stopped in the middle of the road and turned to look straight at Zach. The beast stood perfectly motionless for a brief moment before taking two giant steps across the road, and was out of site in a matter of seconds.

  Zach sat frozen not believing what he just witnessed! He could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up. He was scared and curious at the same time. Snapping out of his gaze, he reached into his coat and pulled out his cell phone and flipped the camera app on. He was too late to get a photo of the beast. He opened the throttle of the dozer and moved forward hoping to get another glimpse of it. He wasn’t about to climb down. Not yet anyway.

  The squeak of the steel tracks began as soon as he released the clutch. He reached the area where the beast had stood only moments earlier before it crossed the road and disappeared. He stopped the dozer and searched intently, looking the area over for any signs of movement. Seeing none, he climbed out of the cab and cautiously inspected the ground. He was astonished when he discovered the giant footprints in the snow. He snapped some photos of the tracks with his own size eleven boot beside one for relative size comparison. The tracks were almost twice that of his own and he took several photos. No one would ever believe what he had just witnessed. He had heard stories about Sasquatch all his life, but never truly believed in the reality of the beast - until now.

  +++

  The early season snow storm had blasted the area dumping more than two feet of the white powder covering everything in a soft, wintery blanket. Hawthorn could benefit from it at the ski resorts, but it made for a lot of snow plow miles being driven to clear the highways and main passes. It was more than a fair trade off since the local economy relied mostly on snow.

  Sheriff Blaine and his deputies decided to make a sweep of the area and follow the trail that led up into the mountain, presumably the trail that the hunters had taken earlier. They spread out with the sheriff and Larson leading the way and the other two deputies following from further behind. They were all on a heightened sense of alertness due to the circumstances.

  As they entered the forested area of the trail, they could distinguish traces of the tracks left behind from the ATV since less snow had fallen on ground under the canopy of trees. After twenty minutes of following the trail up toward the ridge, Larson suddenly threw up his hand and motioned for the others to stop. He walked off the path a short ways while leaving his snowmobile running. When he was finished looking over the terrain, he turned back to the others.

  “The ATV stopped up there on the path, then turned back down through the trees and went off the trail. It’ll be a little more difficult to follow, but I think I can make out the tracks in the snow well enough.”

  Nick made a quick decision and instructed his men.

  “Noland, you and Pete follow the trail on around. Stay together and watch each other’s back. Stay in radio contact. Me and Billy will follow this trail through the woods and see where it leads us,” Blaine said. “Keep those radio’s handy.”

  The two deputies rode off together following the trail as instructed. Billy was an expert tracker and could read the signs left on the trail that others couldn’t such as how old the trail was, how many tracks had been through the area, to how far apart the
y may have been if one animal was following another. The sheriff trusted him more than anyone else in that regard.

  It was beginning to get dark and they didn’t have much time left before they would need to get off the mountain. It was getting much harder to see the trail in the woods and they weren’t prepared to stay out in this weather overnight. Nick was about to toggle his radio to check on the others when he heard Billy shout.

  “Over there!”

  Nick looked in the direction Billy was pointing. It was a red and white ATV smashed up next to a huge pine. They both gunned the throttles and raced toward it. Upon approaching, they could see the vehicle was wrecked badly and had apparently hit the tree. They slowed their snowmobiles and pulled up to the wreck. As soon as they dismounted and began walking over, they both noticed the man laying prone twenty feet away from the wrecked ATV. They ran to him to check on him, but they knew that it was too late.

  Nick called the other deputies on the radio and gave them GPS coordinates. When the other men arrived a short time later, the sheriff and Deputy Larson had marked the crime scene and had taken photos. Craig Morton was recognizable only by the identification he had in his pockets. At first glance, Nick considered that the man was the victim of a tragic accident, but further examination lead to more questions than answers. When they had completed all they could, the sheriff addressed them all.

  “Fella’s, we’re going to do everything by the book on this, but we have to be off this mountain soon. This weather is not going to cooperate so we have to be careful. Not sure when this happened and we have no idea how or why or what the circumstances were leading up to it. We know that one man is in the hospital and one other is missing,” Nick explained.