A Valley to Die For

by Radine Trees Nehring

  “Should have brought a blanket to sit on,” he said. “The rocks feel pretty cold.”

  “Not to me,” Carrie said, “and you can credit winter underwear for that. This is a good antidote to last night. Susan is right—it is hard to think of evil here.”

  A small rock slide cascaded down the side of the bluff, and they both looked up.

  Henry was instantly alert. “Wonder what caused that?” he said. “I should have thought about the possibility of someone being up there.”

  When neither of them heard or saw anything more, he changed the subject, though Carrie noticed he was still looking toward the top of the bluff. “It seems as if your piece of pottery was one-of-a-kind, and I can’t imagine we’ll find pottery in the caves after all these years, even if there was any in the first place. Hate to say it, but this may be a wild goose chase. I’m sure Susan will enjoy seeing the caves, though, and I admit I’m looking forward to it. Are they miniatures of the big caves with fancy formations that you pay to see, or are they just rocky holes in the ground?”

  “Some of both,” she said, “but I won’t describe them now. I don’t want to spoil tomorrow’s surprises.”

  “How do we get to the entrances?”

  “It’s easiest to drive in from the other side. The old track that turns off just before the Booths’ leads to the top. There really isn’t anyplace we can cross the creek here right now, though it’s possible in summer when the water is lower. You can also get across down around the bend where the creek drops underground for a short distance, but it’s a rough hike back. So we always climbed down the bluff face from the other side. The bluff slopes enough in several places to allow for fairly easy climbing up or down.”

  She pointed to a diagonal path leading from the top of the bluff about thirty yards downstream. “That’s an entrance. And over there, a path angles up toward the overhang above us, which has a large cave opening that’s quite easy to get to. It’s obvious lots of people have been in that cave in recent years, and there probably isn’t anything in it worth finding now. The overhang offers a terrific view of the valley, though.

  “There are sink holes leading into the caves from up on top of the bluff and big rocks everywhere. That area is fenced, and once you’re inside you have to be careful where you walk. I don’t know how deep the holes are or how to get down in them safely. Often you can’t see the bottom. It’s a bit scary, but I suppose a real spelunker could drop in with a rope and head lamp.”

  “Maybe we should bring some kind of rope tomorrow, just in case,” Henry said as he reached for her hand and leaned back against a tree trunk.

  The next thing Carrie knew, Susan was saying, “Boy, you two are sure relaxed. Some pair of explorers you turned out to be!”

  “We’re still recovering from last night’s adventures, young lady,” Carrie said as Henry got up, brushed off his behind, then pulled her carefully to her feet, avoiding her wrists.

  “I’m having a wonderful time,” Susan said, “but I’d like to get back to the house before my office in Kansas City closes. I need to check up on some unfinished business.

  “Tell me,” she asked, “is there some kind of road up there over the top of the bluffs? I heard a car leave while you two were, uh, relaxing, but I hadn’t seen anyone or heard anything before that.”

  Carrie glanced at Henry. He frowned and said, “A deer hunter, I suppose. We thought someone might be up there.”

  She wondered if he felt the same reluctance she did about sharing their paradise with any stranger. At least they’d heard no shots, and surely there could be no danger this near the Booths’ in broad daylight.

  He smiled then and changed the subject. “I’ll treat you ladies to a dinner in town,” he said as they headed back toward Carrie’s station wagon.

  “You’re on,” Susan said. “Can we go to that catfish place you told me about?”

  * * *

  Henry, in a repeat of the light-hearted mood of Saturday night, kept both Susan and Carrie entertained with his pompous Southern Colonel routine during dinner, and the mealtime flew by as they laughed and ate.

  Johnny fell asleep during the return ride, and Susan put him in bed as soon as they got home. Carrie made cups of hot spiced cider, and the three of them settled around the woodstove, drinking cider, talking, and asking each other questions. Susan was curious about their life in the woods, and Henry and Carrie wanted to know more about Susan’s job in Kansas City, since neither of them understood the inner workings of a brokerage office.

  “It’s a fairly new job for me,” Susan explained, “and I took over from a woman who retired after many years in the same job. At times it’s been hard getting acquainted with the various offices Mabel had handled for so long. Most of them still ask how she is. All I do is handle money, really. Take care of checks and transfers for a certain group of offices. The Tulsa office is one of mine, though I wasn’t with the firm when you had your account in Tulsa, Carrie, and, of course, all our work is strictly confidential.”

  Carrie laughed. “I’m sure the small amount Amos left wouldn’t be worth talking about anyway. So you deal with Evan Walters? Do you talk with him?”

  “Occasionally,” Susan said, “but we communicate more through the magic of technology.”

  FatCat, who had been curled on Carrie’s lap enjoying the attention of her stroking hand, decided it was time to play. She jumped down and trotted off, returning with an old cotton sock which she dropped in front of Susan, inviting a jump and bat game. After a few minutes of that, she turned away and disappeared down the hall again.

  “More toys coming,” Carrie said. “Sometimes I think she acts more like a dog than a cat, but I’ve been told Siamese can have some doggy traits, and I’m sure she’s part Siamese. She is a very intelligent cat.”

  Susan nodded, then turned to Henry and asked, sounding a bit cautious, “What’s being a policeman like?”

  He didn’t side-step the question, as Carrie thought he probably would have only a week earlier, but began to tell what she guessed must be tales of the lighter side of police work in Kansas City.

  FatCat trotted back into the room with the toy she had chosen and, undoubtedly since Susan had already proven to be a willing playmate, went to her and put it at her feet.

  “Oh, no, not that,” Henry said, looking at what FatCat had brought in. “She’s found that necklace you got for her.”

  Carrie stared at the object FatCat had dropped, then sat very still, watching Susan and wondering if she should feel horror. She didn’t. She felt a wonderful relief. She didn’t know how FatCat had dug the thing out but, however it had happened, the whole matter was now out of her hands. Maybe one of her prayers was being answered.

  In what seemed like slow motion, Susan bent, reached out, and picked up her own infant ID bracelet.

  “Where are the bells?” Henry asked into the silence.

  He’s never seen a baby’s hospital bracelet, thought Carrie.

  Sounding embarrassed, Henry asked, “Isn’t that, what did you call it, the Kitty Bangle?”

  “No, no, it isn’t,” Carrie said. “FatCat’s necklace, which looks very much like that, I realize now, is still in the kitchen drawer.”

  “It’s a baby’s hospital bracelet, fancier than they have these days,” Susan said.

  Henry didn’t say anything, but Carrie could tell he was still completely in the dark about the significance of what the cat had brought in. She knew without question, though, how hard Susan was thinking, and how difficult her next words would be to say. But this was Susan’s struggle. Carrie couldn’t have spoken if she’d wanted to.

  And it was as if Henry was no longer there.

  Susan looked at her. “You know?”

  Carrie nodded.

  Then Susan began to talk, slowly, dreamily, as she turned the bracelet round and round in her hands.

  “When Mom and Dad were killed, I wanted to know. Before, it hadn’t really mattered, but then... ”
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  Henry’s whispered gasp brought him back into Carrie’s awareness, but Susan still didn’t look at him.

  “I was twelve when they told me I was adopted. They said they didn’t know who the... who my birth parents were or where they were. They just said they had located me through a maternity home in New York. They told me I was the special treasure they had found. That’s about all they said, and back then I wasn’t even curious. I loved Mom and Dad and knew they loved me. I didn’t need to know more.”

  She looked at Henry then, and tears were running down her cheeks, but he was leaning forward with his wrists on his knees and hands folded, staring at the floor.

  “It was pretty easy, you see, especially since I knew what state I’d been born in. There are organizations... So I found out and got a copy of my birth certificate. What I don’t know is... is how it happened... what happened. I know who. I just don’t know why.” She stopped and looked at Carrie with an appeal that Carrie couldn’t face, and, like Henry, she dropped her eyes.

  Susan said in a very small voice, “Would Aunt JoAnne ever have told me? I was always afraid to ask her... ”

  She stopped then, leaned back on the couch, and turned her head away, covering part of her face with one hand. Her tears were coming quickly and so silently that, when Carrie saw that Henry was still staring at the floor, she wondered if he even knew Susan was crying.

  Well, she thought to herself, I don’t care what he thinks of me now. It’s time to do what I must do, no matter what.

  “Henry King,” she said, “your daughter needs you.”

  Then Carrie McCrite stood up and walked out of the room.

  Chapter XX

  Carrie, accompanied by a cat who looked very much like she was grinning, headed for the laundry room to check on things. It was obvious at once that, during her confinement in the small space, FatCat had decided to remodel her sleeping basket. The down pillow was on the floor, mattress ties were pulled loose, and the plastic bag Carrie had hidden under the mattress cover was chewed open. One of the pink booties was shredded. Fortunately, the other bootie and dress were still intact.

  “Good cat,” Carrie said, rubbing FatCat’s head. “I’m sure Susan won’t worry about losing one bootie, considering the outcome.” The cat blinked at her in an owl-wise way.

  After disposing of the plastic bag and raveled yarn, Carrie laid the dress and remaining bootie on top of the dryer to give to Susan later.

  Then she went into her bathroom, unwound the gauze on her wrists, and got out of her clothing. It was easier to take everything off than it had been to put it on. She dawdled through a long shower and, as she was drying, looked at the clock. So far she’d used up almost an hour. Surely Susan and Henry had come to some sort of understanding—if only Henry wasn’t too tongue-tied. She put on her nightgown and robe, picked up gauze, tape, and scissors, and padded back to the living room.

  Father and daughter were sitting on the couch talking, their heads tilted toward each other. Both of them had propped stocking-clad feet on her low oak table. They looked up at her and, in unison, moved their feet to the floor.

  Carrie laughed. “Goodness me, how guilty you both look. I almost hate to admit I put my feet on it, too.”

  Well, now! Susan looked rather teary, but she was smiling, and Henry was smiling too... no tears. In fact, he looked like he’d just won a million dollars or been given a Nobel Prize. Probably, Carrie thought wryly, things are going to work out just fine for them—but it was the cat that did it—not me.

  Oh, well, results were what mattered. Mostly.

  “Guess you two are getting acquainted? I do hate to disturb, but, Henry, could you re-wrap my wrists? And, since we have a busy day tomorrow, perhaps we should all turn in?”

  Susan smiled at her. “Yes, Henry and I understand each other fairly well now, though we still have about thirty years to catch up on. But Carrie, how on earth are we going to explain us to your friends?”

  “That is a question, isn’t it? I’d say wait and just see what comes up. I wouldn’t be surprised if Shirley has already noticed the resemblance between your son and Henry. She won’t say anything until you do—she’s too kind, but then, most people are. It is a heart-warming story, sort of a reunited family thing. Everyone loves those. And, you know, I do think you’ll be able to talk about it easily. People here like Henry, they like you, and... ” she looked at Henry, whose lips were twitching peculiarly, “there have been hints that JoAnne and Henry were once... connected.”

  “Problem solved,” Susan said as she winked at her father.

  * * *

  Carrie was up early the next morning feeling decidedly cheerful. At least one thing had turned out even better than she hoped, though there were still big problems facing them... problems like a quarry and a killer in Walden Valley.

  She had been thinking about the killer before she fell asleep, realizing lots of puzzle pieces were popping around in her head, and she surely should be able to make some sense of them. She just knew she was capable of figuring out who JoAnne’s killer was, unless, of course, it really was a hunter, or some stupid, random thing, which didn’t seem plausible now. If only she had noticed enough and could think clearly—make sense of it all.

  Detecting, it seemed, was mostly about doing research, noticing things, and figuring out what it all meant in a logical way. If only her head would cooperate by sorting out all the unconnected events and make them connect. Logic was a skill she was still developing.

  She heard Susan murmuring to Johnny when she went past the guest room door, and she wasn’t surprised to find blankets and pillow neatly stacked on the couch in the main room. A note on the kitchen table said Henry would be back at 8:30 to escort them to JoAnne’s house and make sure all was in order there before he left them to their work. He would come back at 1:30 so they could go cave exploring.

  On a whim, and hoping Susan would be a while, Carrie dug out her own unique recipe for oatmeal pecan bars.

  Stick of margarine, one-fourth cup dark corn syrup, half-cup sugar, tablespoon molasses, two and a half cups oatmeal, pecans. She had all that. She turned the oven knob to three fifty, melted the margarine in her big pot, stirred in the sugar, corn syrup, a blob of molasses that looked about like a tablespoon, and the oatmeal. After lining an eight-inch square pan with greased foil, she spread the gooey stuff in it, added pecans on top, and stuck it in the oven. Then she repeated the recipe to make extra for Henry.

  Thirty-five minutes later, Carrie was taking the first pan out of the oven when Susan appeared, carrying Johnny balanced on her hip. “Sure smells good in here,” she said.

  Carrie explained what she was doing, and Susan said, “Can’t we have those for breakfast? Oatmeal is oatmeal, after all! Johnny’s trying oatmeal, too. We’ve started him on mushy things, but he’s not at all sure he likes them.”

  Unwilling to wait for the bars to cool, Carrie lifted the foil out of the pan, turned the mixture over on a plate, and scooped off two large-sized portions. She and Susan drank orange juice and ate warm cookie bars with forks while Susan tried to convince Johnny that cereal from a jar was what he really liked best.

  “Come on, son,” she said, poking a small spoon toward Johnny’s tongue-blocked mouth. “Yum yum. Oh, phooie, Johnny, you’re a real mess.”

  Carrie took a tiny piece of cookie, checked it to be sure there were no nuts, and put it in the baby’s mouth. His eyes widened as he mashed the new something with his tongue, and both women laughed when he turned toward Carrie and opened his mouth again.

  “Oooh,” Susan said. “We’ve got to get out of here before you spoil him. But,” she added as she took another bite of her own cookie, “I must admit he’s got discriminating taste. Have you ever tried that baby cereal? Yikes, it’s almost tasteless!”

  Carrie cleaned up the kitchen while Susan finished packing Johnny’s toys and the portable bed, and they were ready by the time Henry returned. Carrie handed him a sack of cooled and cut cookie
bars, and hid a smile as Susan informed him that Johnny liked them, so they should surely be appreciated by his grandfather!

  It was clouding over and, as they went to their cars, Henry told them snow was in the forecast again.

  “Too bad,” Carrie said, “but it won’t make any difference as far as the caves are concerned. They stay at fifty-eight degrees year round and will feel comfortable to us since we’ll be warmly dressed anyway.”

  Henry had borrowed Carrie’s key to JoAnne’s house, and as soon as they opened the door, it was obvious he had been over earlier to start a fire in the woodstove. There was also a supply of split logs in the wood box for Carrie and Susan to add to the fire during the morning.

  Several empty cardboard boxes were stacked in the living room. “They were left from when I moved here,” Henry said, “and I thought they’d help.”

  He spent a few minutes playing with Johnny while the women began work. Then, after making sure Carrie locked the door behind him, he drove away.

  The task was sad, but not overwhelmingly so, since Carrie wanted to remain cheerful for Susan and, she suspected, Susan was doing the same thing. They did talk about Susan’s birth and, after some thought, Susan agreed with Carrie that JoAnne probably never would have found the need to uncover their mother-child relationship.

  During the morning Susan excused herself and went to JoAnne’s bedroom for another call to her office.

  She must have a very important job, Carrie thought.

  When Susan returned, the two of them puzzled about what had been stolen from JoAnne’s house. “All I missed,” Carrie told Susan, “was JoAnne’s address book, the picture of you with Putt and Johnny, and a birthday card JoAnne had ready to send me. They seem peculiar items to steal, don’t they?” Susan had no answers to that question but did explain the duplicate address book. JoAnne and her sister had address books alike. Susan’s mother never used hers, so Susan gave it to her aunt after her mother’s death.