by B. T. Lord
When she put the key into the lock, she was surprised to find her hands shaking.
Come on, Em. You can do this. Don’t look at anything. Just run inside, grab the darn thing and run out. Easy peasy.
After a few fumbles, she finally got the door open and stepped inside.
She unconsciously wrinkled her nose as she closed the door behind her. The house smelled funky; it was in bad need of airing. As it was, Lydia’s parents were still holding out hope their daughter would be found and refused to consider the possibility of having it rented out to someone else. Though who would want to live in the house where a murderer –
Stop that, Em! You’re going to scare yourself to death.
Emmy threw back her shoulders and turned on the light switch. As she started towards the kitchen, her eyes caught a basket turned over on the floor, balls of yarn strewn on the carpet. Forensics must have left it there during their investigation. Seeing the garishly colored, half- finished projects, her eyes welled up again. It was silly, but now she wished she’d sat Lydia down and taught her how to knit correctly so she wouldn’t have all those holes in her hat.
But that was what made Lydia, Lydia. Her awful sense of color, and all those errors in her knitting.
Emmy swallowed past the rapidly forming lump in her throat. Afraid she’d completely break down, she hurried into the kitchen. She spied the crockpot near the fridge. She unplugged it from the wall socket and was in the process of stuffing the cord into the crockpot when she suddenly felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.
She gulped hard.
She wasn’t alone.
Emmy took a halting breath, terrified to turn around. What if it was the ghost of Lydia? Or Beth? She’d faint if they appeared to her.
Suddenly a thought occurred to her that made her knees go weak.
Dear God. What if it’s Clarisse?
Her hands shook so hard, she dropped the cord. Her heart thundered. Her mouth grew dry.
Oh please, oh please, oh please. Let it just be my imagination.
Gathering up her courage, Emmy started to turn. Glancing to her right, she saw the room was empty. She wanted to cry with relief. It had been her imagination! Oh, thank God.
Then a floorboard creaked to her left. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Saw something flash. She started to scream.
Then everything went black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
It was 7 pm. In an effort to give her mind some needed respite from going in circles and arriving at no feasible conclusion, Cammie and Jace were sitting in Doc’s living room, watching an old John Wayne western. It was one of her favorites – Red River. Doc was shut up in his office listening to his opera records, which was good news for Cammie. He’d refrained from verbally telling her she was overdoing it, but the expression on his face whenever she came home from another frustrating day told her exactly what he was thinking.
She hoped Jace’s presence would relieve some of the underlying tension.
Just as the Duke and Montgomery Cliff were about to go mano a mano, Cammie’s cell went off.
“Sheriff Farnsworth,” she answered.
“Oh Sheriff, I’m sorry to bother you. This is Emmy’s mother. I was wondering if you know where she is.”
Cammie abruptly sat up, her heart pounding in her chest. “She said she was going to Lydia Costas’ house to pick up a crockpot she’d lent her.”
“She’s not home yet and I’m awfully worried. If she was going to go somewhere else after picking up the crockpot, she would have called me. She’s very good about not having me worry needlessly.”
“I’m sure Emmy is fine. I’ll drive over to Lydia’s. You know how hard she’s taken all of this. She’s probably in her Jeep crying her eyes out. I’ll call you as soon as I find her.”
“You look worried,” Jace replied, seeing the pensive look on her face as he watched her shove her phone in her pocket.
“Emmy’s mother is right. She always very conscientious about letting her know when she’s going to be late. I’m not getting the warm and fuzzies about this. I’m going over to Lydia’s.”
“I’ll take my truck and look for her too.”
“I’ll call Rick and get him on this as well. We’ll all cover more ground that way.”
A half hour later the three were in their vehicles. While Jace covered the eastern part of Twin Ponds, Rick covered the south. When Cammie arrived at Lydia’s, she saw Emmy’s Jeep parked in the driveway. She bounded out of the Explorer and found the front door unlocked. Quickly entering, her heart sank when she saw the crockpot lying on the floor. A quick look around told her the apartment was empty. Dashing out to her Explorer, she headed straight to Torri’s trailer.
She heard the baby wailing as she pounded on the door, but she didn’t care. The door swung open and Torri stood there, holding the baby in her arms.
“Where’s Emmy?” Cammie demanded.
Torri raised an eyebrow. “She ain’t here, Sheriff.”
“Torri, I swear to God if anything’s happened to her, I will make you regret ever coming to Twin Ponds.”
“Now Sheriff, threatening me isn’t going to--”
“When did Clarisse get back?”
“She ain’t back. In fact, the truth is, she’s never coming back.”
“She left her baby?” Cammie asked incredulously.
“She never was the nurturing type.”
Cammie wanted nothing more than to strangle Torri. She’d consistently lied to the sheriff and she was in no mood to hear more lies. She took a deep breath in an effort to contain her growing temper.
“If I find out she or you had anything to do with Emmy’s disappearance, I swear I will make your life a living hell.”
Cammie tore out of the trailer. As Torri closed the door behind her, she whispered, “As if it ain’t already.”
Cammie sat in the Explorer fuming in exasperation. She angrily smacked the steering wheel before realizing she had to get herself under control if she had any chance of finding Emmy. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she reached for her phone. She knew she was crazy for what she was about to do, but she was desperate. And half crazed with worry. She punched in the number and waited.
Please pick up, please pick up.
“Hello?” came the gruff voice.
“I need your help, Paul. Emmy is missing.”
“Give me a minute.”
Shit! Don’t any of these people have a speed dial to their spirit guides?
Cammie knew she’d be laughed out of any police station for calling a shaman to help her, but she had no choice. The truth was, she knew his magick was powerful. Whatever it was that gave Paul his abilities, she knew to trust them. Yes, it was unorthodox. And yes, maybe she was insane. But Emmy’s life was at stake. If it took talking to a shaman to get her back, she’d do it.
“You must hurry,” Paul suddenly spoke into the phone. “Her life is in danger. I see two women. One of them is Emmy. The other – I can’t quite see --”
“Where? Where do I go?”
“Crow Mountain.”
Cammie’s heart skidded to a stop. Crow Mountain. The place where things she didn’t even want to think about existed. And she’d be going there. At night.
Dear God. Not Crow Mountain.
Her fear threatened to overwhelm her. “Are – are you sure, Paul?”
“Even before the colonials showed up, Crow Mountain was sacred to the natives. Centuries of rituals have been done on its summit. There’s much power there.” He paused before adding, “Don’t give into the fear, Cammie. You must go and face whatever is there for you to face.”
“If Emmy is there, I’ll find her,” she whispered. Hanging up from Paul, she called Rick and Jace and told them what they needed to do. She then called her deputies and gave them the same instructions. It wasn’t until she put her phone down that she noticed how badly her hands were shaking.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
When Cammie arrived at the foot of Crow Mountain, she found Paul waiting for her.
“I’ve got Rick and Jace taking different trails to the top,” she said as she came up to him. “The rest of the deputies are surrounding the perimeter. Whoever is up there won’t be getting off this mountain without being captured.”
“Get up there as fast as you can,” he instructed. “Don’t wait for me. I can only push these 70 year old legs so far.”
“Who has her, Paul?”
His shook his head. “It’s a blonde woman, but there’s much confusion surrounding her. And so much anger. What I see for certain is the rage in her heart at being thwarted.”
Cammie sucked in her breath. “So it was Clarisse who put the salvia timor in the tea left on Emmy’s desk!”
She turned and was about to take off when Paul suddenly placed his large hands on her head. He mumbled a few words under his breath.
“What did you just do?”
“Gave you a protection prayer.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t believe in protection.”
He smiled. “I don’t. But it never hurts to be a little extra cautious once in a while.”
Cammie returned his smile, then hurried up the path, her headlamp illuminating the way. It wasn’t until she’d lost sight of Paul that she realized she’d be alone for most of the hike. It didn’t help that the shadows were already lengthening on the trail ahead of her. She deliberately pushed aside the childhood fear of the tree limbs reaching out to grab her. Instead, she kept her focus solely on the path in front of her, knowing just one misstep on the roots and limbs hiding under the thick snow could result in an injury that would prevent her from rescuing Emmy.
She could only hope she’d reach the top in time to prevent whatever craziness Clarisse had planned for the young woman.
“You know how to fire one of these?” Rick asked as he handed Jace a Ruger.
“Just because I don’t like hunting doesn’t mean I don’t know how to shoot,” he pointed out.
“Alright. Listen bro, be careful. If anything happens to you, I’ve got to live with the Wrath of Cammie, got it?”
Jace chuckled. “Believe me, I wouldn’t wish the Wrath of Cammie on my worst enemy.”
Cammie swore the air was growing colder with each step she took. It was the nuance of the cold, however, that unnerved her. It was as if the chilly air had wrapped itself around her insides, bypassing the sweaters and snow pants she wore and wending itself around her heart and intestines. As if that wasn’t enough to deal with, she consistently heard furtive steps coming up behind her. Each time she stopped, all she saw was the snow and dense trees in the glow of her headlamp. She tried to ignore the fear gnawing at her stomach, but the feeling of being watched was growing stronger until all she wanted to do was scream and hurl herself back down the mountain to her Explorer. To safety.
You can do this, Cam. You’ve got to. There’s nothing here but your own imagination going haywire. Just keep focusing on the trail. You’re already halfway up the mountain.
She felt a bit calmer. And took a step forward.
Then a twig snapped near her and she stopped dead in her tracks. She spun around and peered into the gloom, her heart hammering so loud in her ears, it was a miracle she’d heard anything at all.
I don’t have time for this, she concluded as she forced herself to turn back around and continue up the trail. If she was being tracked by an animal, or – and this she hated contemplating – some spirit from the mountain, they’d have to catch up with her. She was wasting time stopping and checking out every little sound. And unfortunately there were lots of sounds as she hurried along.
Rick was making his way up the west side of Crow Mountain when he thought he saw something in the gloom on the trail ahead of him. He knew all the legends and lore about Crow Mountain and he felt his heart start to hammer. He’d been reciting Abenaki prayers of protection under his breath the whole way up and he now put more urgency into them.
As he came up to a boulder that the trail snaked around, he once again saw something flash by. It almost looked like a person, but he couldn’t be sure. Fearing it was Clarisse, he withdrew his revolver. Slowing his step, he crept up to the rock. He took a moment to collect himself then abruptly jumped out, pointing his gun in all directions. To his consternation, there was no one there. He cautiously walked up the trail a bit, but whatever he’d seen had vanished. It was then that he realized he’d only seen the top half of a milky white figure drifting through the trees.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He decided to cover all bases by making the sign of the cross over himself. Then, keeping his revolver in his hand, he continued up the trail.
Cammie wished Paul had been able to keep up with her. The more she hiked, the more she felt completely creeped out. The cold that had claimed her insides was growing worse until it physically hurt to continue.
This is crazy. I’ve faced down worse than this. The only thing on this mountain to frighten me is my own imagination.
Still, every few steps she had to contend with shadows darting by and once, actually gasping aloud and jumping back when a large bird swooped down in front of her and disappeared into the darkness of the trees.
If she didn’t stop scaring herself, she was going to die of a heart attack before ever getting to Emmy.
Who she prayed was actually up here. Any other law enforcement officer would have thought her insane to take the word of a shaman. They’d crucify her for wasting precious time. But she knew Paul. She trusted him.
She had to trust him.
Jace was rapidly making his way up one of the steeper trails to the top of Crow Mountain. It was used primarily by sturdy outdoorsmen who enjoyed the challenge of the almost vertical angle of the footpaths. Although Jace was in top physical shape, he was not a fan of heights. To his right lay a dense, almost impenetrable forest. To his left was a drop off that ended at a cliff. Beneath the cliff was a stream, roaring with melting snows that he could hear even up as far as he was.
As he picked his way through the snow that was deep in some places and icy in others, he made sure not to look to his left. If he ignored the height, he could make better time. As it was, he was already halfway up the mountain. With Emmy’s life in the balance, failure was not an option. Nor could he let Cammie down. She was depending on him to help save Emmy.
Deliberately keeping his gaze away from the drop off and on the path directly in front of him, he balanced the need to rush with the need not to slip and possibly hurt himself.
Concentrate, man! You can’t let your mind wander.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t stop thinking of what they’d find at the top. Would Emmy and Clarisse even be up there? The Jackson sister seemed to have easily dispatched Beth and Lydia, as well as Todd and Marcy. Why take Emmy all the way up this mountain in the first place? He knew what Paul had said, but he didn’t have the same blind faith in the shaman that Cammie did. It was always possible the man was wrong. If that was so, how would Cammie ever live with herself? How would any of them live with themselves knowing that if they hadn’t wasted precious time on the crazy mutterings of a bizarre old man –
Suddenly, Jace’s ankle bent out in a weird angle. Before he could regain his balance, he found himself sliding precariously to his left.
“Oh shit, no!” he cried as he reached out to catch himself. To his horror, all he grasped was air. Before he knew it, he was rolling down the mountain towards the cliff.
Jace fought hard not to panic as the roar of the water below grew louder. He knew he was nearing the edge of the cliff. His mind worked frantically, desperately, trying to find a way to save himself. But he was rolling too fast. There was nothing to grab onto. His hands ached as they sliced through the snow and banged up against sharp tree branches that weren’t strong enough to stop his fall. Just as he reached the brink of the precipice, one thought tore itself away from the others.
I’m either goi
ng to die when I hit the water, or drown. I let you down, Cammie. I’m so sorry.
Was she imagining it, or was the wind picking up?
Cammie was still in the forest; she hadn’t reached the top yet. By her reckoning, she was still ten minutes to the clearing that marked the peak of Crow Mountain where, for centuries, people had done all sorts of rituals to appease the gods and goddesses, both of the sky and of the mountain itself.
The trees were darker here, their bare branches eerily resembling skeletal arms ready to snatch her off the trail. It didn’t help that they were swaying and creaking in the increasing wind, the noise seemingly coming from all around her, the mournful howl careening through the almost black silhouettes.
Cammie fought to swallow the scream bubbling up her throat as she felt something rush up behind her. She paused long enough to turn, but once again, there was nothing but the wind pushing up against her.
You’re not going to win, Mountain. Emmy is up here and I’m getting to her, no matter what you throw at me.
She thought for a moment before adding, Not that I want you to throw anything at me. Look, I’ll make you a deal. Just let me get up to the top, rescue Emmy, get her down and I’ll never bother you again. Cross my heart and hope to – well, not die. But you get the picture.
Cammie’s inner dialogue was interrupted when she thought she heard a high pitched scream. She stopped and tried to quiet her panting to see if it was repeated. But it wasn’t. Which terrified her. And made her pick up her pace, the dark creatures of the forest momentarily forgotten.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The trees were gone, replaced by scrub brush, huge glacial boulders and long flat rocks as Cammie approached the summit of the mountain. For the past few minutes, she’d seen a light through the trees that grew brighter as she neared the top. She dimmed her headlight as much as she dared and continued onward. It wasn’t until she was almost at her destination that she realized what she was seeing was a ring of flames. Leaving the shelter of the trees, the wind was fiercer up here, the sudden gusts threatening to topple her over.