Max paused. Noting that Noble was becoming antsy, she continued, but picked up the pace.
“According to plan, the father of one of the men went to pick them up today at the junction of Route 174 and the Pony Express Overland Stage Trail. He waited the entire day. They never arrived.”
“Why did the father report them missing on Tuesday?” Noble questioned.
“Supposedly, the trekkers were scheduled to call in each night and report their location. The father received the last call on Sunday.”
“So what was this adventure, an endurance test for their new occupation?”
“According to the father—yes!”
Noble simply nodded in amazement and then instructed, “Remove your artful yellow lines from the map and then zoom in so we have just a view of the Dead Zone.”
Max complied.
“Okay, now start at the northwest corner near the south end of the Fish Springs National Wildlife Refuge. This time, use the red highlighter. Mark off where the ranger found the SUV and the kayaks.” Noble waited briefly for Max to tap the appropriate icon and then mark the spots. “Now move south down Route 174 to where the kayakers’ bodies were found.”
“Got it. You want me to continue south down Route 174 to where the bodies of the elderly couple were found and also mark that location in red.” Max spoke while simultaneously drawing the line with her finger, clearly getting the gist of Noble’s little exercise.
Noble sat back and remained silent as Max continued to move her hand to Delta, leaving another red mark. She then moved her hand northeast up Highway 6 to Silver City to the location where the car and the bodies of the Hazelton family were discovered. After completing the trail, her red line appeared to resemble a half-circle.
“You didn’t include the trekkers?”
“They’re still missing, but this is the trail they were supposed to have followed.” Max motioned her index finger up the Brush Highway.
Noble sat in silence for a moment of contemplation. Then, once again, he requested that Max remove all of the trail markings but leave all the pushpin markings in place. As Max followed orders, Noble sat back and gazed at the massive screen with a view of the Dead Zone—staring at the rugged terrain—searching for a pattern.
Without taking his eye off the screen, he asked, “What are the feds doing to find the trekkers?”
“They’ve been conducting ground searches daily since Wednesday, but each day they have to stop around five o’clock in the evening because the temperature begins to drop precipitously. Thus far, they’ve uncovered nothing.” Max, openly frustrated, added, “I’ll be receiving an updated report in the morning.”
“I hope these are two smart guys who can hang in there,” Noble said wistfully.
Max, trying to sound upbeat, informed Noble that the owner of the Quality Market in Delta reported that the two men had stocked up on provisions, and that they were carrying bags from the Delta Sports Center located on Highway 6. “So, if they know what they are doing, they’ll be able to hold out for a few more days.”
“Let’s pray.” Noble glanced at his watch for the third time. He stood up from the table and announced, “It’s time to call it a night. Let’s put our thinking caps back on tomorrow morning at eight o’clock sharp.”
“Speaking of eight o’clock, isn’t Amanda cooking for you tonight?”
It was seven-thirty.
“I can’t be late. I cancelled our last date and was miserably late for the one before. I’m still trying to adjust to this relationship thing which, according to Amanda, is the next stage that follows dating.” He admitted, “I’m petrified to think about what is in store.”
“Buy her some flowers; it works wonders,” Max suggested.
“Is that based on firsthand knowledge?”
“I’m out of here.” Max retreated and headed for the door.
“Tomorrow.” Noble waved Max on as she left the conference room. He returned to his office to grab his briefcase, which was never far from reach, and left for home.
4
PROOF OF LIFE
Noble inserted the key into his front door lock and couldn’t help but notice that the minute hand on his watch pointed to the number six. As he entered his front foyer he immediately winced as he heard the words, “You’re late,” ring out from the kitchen.
Amanda soon approached with that all-knowing look and remonstrated, “Not again!” Then as her stern look morphed into a smile, she giggled, “Ah, they’re beautiful.”
Noble welcomed the passionate kiss and an endearing hug that followed, all the while grinning inside as he thought, Thanks Max. “I’m sorry to be late, but I had to return to the office after making a few cameo appearances at some boring inaugural events.”
“A case?”
“Yes, Max is working it, but I needed her to bring me up-to-date.”
“Is it a tough one?”
“Yeah, I mean yes,” he sighed in a voice quiet and low, obviously tired from the day’s events.
“Pour yourself a glass of wine and relax. I’ll join you in a moment after I finish one more thing in the kitchen.”
“Something smells wonderful,” he called out as they headed in opposite directions.
Noble, not one to wear an overcoat—even in January—effortlessly unwrapped the scarf from his neck and pulled off his jacket and tie. Then he eased into the sofa with a glass of Capannelle Solare and began to unwind. As he felt the warmth of the wine trail down his throat, he couldn’t help but reflect on the last six months. Admittedly, Hamilton’s death had rattled him, causing him to rethink his tenure at the agency and to put into question his own mortality. Occasionally, he contemplated leaving the agency and returning to the solitude of the analyst role he once coveted. Then, the coup de grace came when Hamilton charged him with the responsibility of exposing the former president. Shortly thereafter, president-elect Randall Post requested that Noble stay in his post through the transition of the new administration. Now embroiled in the Dead Zone case, he would postpone further thought on the subject once again. One thing he couldn’t ignore, however, was a subtle personality shift that was changing his outlook. Those close to him also noticed that he was morphing out of nerdom and becoming more doctrinaire and assertive, something that gave him unease. Adding to his discomfort was the question of mortality, a catalyst for his entering the dating game. In the past, he had dated occasionally when he found the time, but always preferred his work to the “getting-to-know-you” scene. So, as a genuine veteran novice, he ventured ahead to give it another shot.
Amanda Kelley was an aide to Adam Ridge, one of the most prominent lobbyists for the natural gas industry. Noble’s brother-in-law Paolo Salvatore made the introduction. Her appearance was strikingly dissimilar from his sister, Natalie. Other than being statuesque at five-foot nine, the similarities ended there. Her dark black hair brushed the top of her shoulders, unlike Natalie’s shocking red hair. Her eyes were not green, but light blue, and her personality less strident. Paolo would often tease in jest that Noble never seriously dated because he was always looking for someone in his sister’s image. In part, he was correct. But, thanks to Paolo, he now enjoyed the company of someone who only faintly resembled Natalie. And he relished her company from the start. She tolerated his erratic, non-stop work schedule, which endeared her to him even more.
Noble recalled, with a limp smile, the time when Amanda explained to him that, after four months of steady dating, she felt their relationship had moved to the next level. He finally owned up to himself that it had advanced, but he didn’t fully grasp the progressive stages of romance that Amanda cited.
Stopping in mid-thought, he glanced up as he heard Amanda approach from out of the kitchen.
“You look a little more at ease than you did when you first arrived,” she observed affectionately, as she refilled her wine glass.
“The mere sight of you, my dear, would put anyone at ease.” He smiled as she sat down cozily beside him
on the sofa.
“So, tell me about the inauguration. I watched it, of course, but not from your privileged vantage point.”
Noble sketched in the details for Amanda on the music, the swearing-in, the departure of the president pro-tem, and the magnificent inaugural address. “It truly inspired me with some further resolve,” he admitted, more to himself than to her.
Amanda cocked her head and offered a gentle smile. She was pleased that Noble finally found some assurance that the decisions he had made in the past were rational.
Their conversation continued over a delectable meal. At times, Noble stole periodic moments to admire Amanda from across the table. Aside from her intelligence and beauty, she’s a marvelous cook, he thought. And, after taking his last bite, he mused, how did I get to be so lucky? After a delightful dinner and helping her remove the dishes from the table, they tidied-up the kitchen and then retired to the living room for a nightcap. The conversation ensued for a while longer until, finally, Noble had no choice but to break the mood.
“It’s getting late, my dear, and I need to be back in the office early tomorrow morning,” he said apologetically.
Amanda leaned over to kiss him and whispered, “I don’t mind getting up early.”
With smiles mirroring each other, they stood up, embraced, and then headed toward the bedroom.
The first sound was a vibration, followed by an annoying ringing noise. Noble reached for his phone, trying to catch it before it rang a second time. But no such luck.
Amanda rolled over in a semi-awakened state and groaned, “Not now. What time is it?”
“Four o’ clock. Sorry, go back to sleep.”
Max listened to the conversation on the other end of the line until she heard, “What?” he whispered with shrouded annoyance.
“They’re all ghost towns! The bodies were all found near boarded up mine shafts in abandoned ghost towns!” Max blurted out loudly, knowing Noble was the only one in earshot. She had no one else to wake up that particular morning.
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the office. I couldn’t sleep. I needed to study the map.”
“Give me an hour. I’ll see you there at five,” he replied, while stifling a yawn.
The phone went dead.
5
A FAULTY PREMISE
You look awful. Did you manage to get any sleep?”
Max’s eyes were bloodshot, and she didn’t look her meticulous self. Noble couldn’t be sure, but it looked like she was wearing the same clothes she wore the day before.
“I got a few hours. How about you?”
“I slept like a baby.” Noble grinned impishly.
“Can I assume the flowers did their magic?”
“They worked just fine.” Noble blushed mildly, and then swiftly changed the subject, “What’s with the ghost stories?”
Max raised her coffee cup. “There’s a fresh pot in the kitchen—and they’re towns—ghost towns.”
“I’ll be right back. I have a feeling I’m going to need some caffeine for this one.”
When Noble returned to the conference room, Max was standing in front of the multi-touch screen staring at the map of the Dead Zone.
“Okay, what’s your theory?” he challenged.
Before he had the opportunity to take the first sip of his coffee, Max asserted excitedly, “All the bodies were found near old abandoned mines. All of the mines are located in ghost towns! They all died of either hypothermia or heat exhaustion! It doesn’t fit with the overall picture.”
Noble cut her off. “Max, in that part of the country the land is harsh and the temperatures are horrendous. Sometimes people just get careless and they don’t plan for the unexpected. Look at the Emerson couple. They were traveling in the desert; they didn’t even have a bottle of water with them.”
It was Max’s turn to interrupt. Noble surrendered as he sat down, leaning comfortably back in his chair, listening intently.
Max continued. “However, the Hazelton family had several bottles of water in their car, but the children didn’t unlatch their seatbelts to reach for the bottles. They had to have been thirsty. And the kayakers walked out into the desert and left their water with their kayaks and other supplies.”
“You’ve made your point. Are you suggesting these are not simple cases of missing persons, but are cases of foul play?” He sensed Max was on to something.
“What if they were all murdered? And by the same person, or group of persons?”
Noble bolted upright in his chair. “Go back over each case and give me your scenario.”
Max pointed to the red mark on the map representing the elderly couple. “We know the Emersons left the Chevron station and were heading to Provo. They should have turned right out of the station, then they should have taken the first right to Route 50 south, which would have put them back onto Interstate 15. What if they had mistakenly taken a left instead of a right and then took the first right after that?”
“I give.”
“They would have been going north on west 1500 north,” Max concluded.
Using the yellow highlighter, she ran her index finger up the map. “Thirty-six miles later they would have ended up here.” Max pointed to Joy, an abandoned mine in the Drum Mountains.
“But the bodies were found on the side of the road on the Brush Highway at Route 174, which is some distance away.” Noble pointed out.
“Obviously, they were lost, but assume for a moment they saw something they weren’t supposed to see. Then they were killed and someone drove their car to the highway, six miles away from the mine, and left the bodies there.”
“And the killer or killers siphoned off their gas to make it look like an elderly couple was lost. Whoever found the couple would assume they ran out of gas and then died of hypothermia from the freezing temperature during the night,” Noble conjectured, buying into her argument.
“Precisely. It was exactly what we first theorized to be the case based on the information we were fed!” From the expression on her face, she was satisfied that she had successfully countered with her own theory.
“What do you think happened to the Hazeltons?”
“Same pattern. When they left the Summit Restaurant in Eureka they should have followed Main Street out to Highway 6, and then turned right. But, instead, they turned left. Let’s assume they knew they had made a mistake and took the first left to make a U-turn, making a second deadly mistake. The road they turned onto is narrow, and it’s difficult to find a place to turn around.”
Noble barged in, confident he could predict Max’s next sentence. “Three miles down that road is Silver City, another abandoned mine. Excuse me, the mine is actually a ghost town with some ruins. And you believe they also witnessed something they shouldn’t have seen?”
“Yes, and we know their car was found another mile and a half past the mine, in a steep ravine on the Silver Pass Road,” she added with assurance.
“Move on to the next case.”
“The ranger found the bodies of the kayakers on the northern edge of the Bell Hill Mine—seventeen miles from their gear—a mine adjacent to another abandoned ghost town.”
“It still doesn’t explain why the kayakers would wander off into the desert and leave their gear behind,” Noble posed, playing devil’s advocate, after having arrived at some of his own conclusions.
“It’s possible the kayakers were driving toward Fish Springs and decided to take a side trip to check out the Bell Hill Mine and, after seeing something they shouldn’t have seen, they were killed. Then the killer or killers drove the SUV to the nearest body of water and left the kayaks on the bank of the Avocet Pool to make it look as if they had already been kayaking.”
Observably proud of her own deductions, Max waited for a sign of approval.
Noble, saving the praise for the moment, stated matter-of-factly, “Interesting theory.” Noting the look of displeasure on Max’s face, he bowed to her ego, “You’ve convi
nced me. There’s something more than meets the eye. It’s more than just people making wrong turns, getting lost, or wandering aimlessly,” he averred. “Our two missing trekkers would have also been passing by the Joy and Bell Hill mines as they worked their way up the Brush Highway.”
Max walked over to the conference table to sit across from Noble. Just then, the phone rang.
“Director Bishop,” Noble answered. It was 8:30 a.m., and his secretary had yet to arrive.
Immediately, the color drained from Noble’s face.
“Agent, Max is here with me. Hold on while I put you on the speakerphone. Agent Darrow, please repeat what you just told me.”
“Yes, Director. Four cyclists have been reported missing. A friend dropped them off on Thursday at the intersection of Highway 36 and the Pony Express Overland Stage Trail. The same friend was scheduled to pick them up yesterday in Ibapah, one hundred miles at the other end of the trail. They never showed.” The agent then continued to express his personal views about the missing persons cases, which had little merit.
Max, wasting no time, interrupted to fill him on their revised theories. From the expression on Noble’s face, Max could tell that he had a particular unvoiced expletive in mind for Darrow, one he would seldom mouth. It was a rare occasion for Noble, having one of the purest of lexicons in town. Not that he was so pristine, but in the workplace, he was always proper.
Of course, that didn’t stop Agent Darrow from interjecting a few choice words of his own.
Noble, quick to bring the conversation back on point, declared, “We need to have the bodies exhumed.”
Max recoiled and stammered, “All of them, even the children?”
“No, let them rest in peace for the time being, but we might have to later. To start, we’ll assume that if their parents were murdered, the children met the same fate.”
“It’s federal land, and you’ll need the attorney general’s signoff,” Agent Darrow reminded him, in his usual churlish manner.
Faintly irked at the agent for assuming he didn’t know the necessary protocol, Noble retorted, “I’ll handle it, but in the meantime you need to send in your agents to search the three mines in question. We are convinced our victims stumbled upon something forbidden. Find out what is was,” he ordered in a tone typically intended for an underling. “I’ll also get you some air search support. Your ground search is limited by the outside temperatures. We still have six people unaccounted for. Find them.”
Noble's Quest Page 3