Stone Cold Case

by Catherine Dilts

  “You okay, Mom?”

  Morgan swiped a sleeve across her eyes.

  “I knew this was going to be hard. And we’re not even inside yet.”

  David reached for her hand. “We’ll get through it.”

  They were outside, loading David’s truck with Sam’s woodworking tools from the garage when Sarah and Russ arrived in a rented moving truck. Sarah had tied her long, strawberry-blond hair into a ponytail. She had a lean, athletic build, even pregnant. Morgan would have said her daughter was too thin, but she had decided to keep her good advice to herself this trip.

  Russ was a big guy, tall and broad-shouldered. He came from such a large family, they could have staffed their own Viking longboat. Russ looked perfectly capable of caring for an entire village, much less one wife and child.

  Morgan and Sarah exchanged teary hugs.

  They went inside together and started cleaning, filling packing boxes marked “storage” or “yard sale” with a thick black marker, and tossing the hopeless items into plastic trash bags. David and Sarah each made their own piles for items they wanted to take. It was all very businesslike the entire morning, with swift decisions and an amicable division of pots and pans, furniture, linens, and artwork. Their church would have an abundance of nice goods for the annual yard sale to raise money for the food pantry.

  Russ and David both watched to make sure Sarah didn’t do too much lifting or standing. They assigned her the task of running a shredder, making confetti out of mountains of papers, including hopelessly outdated receipts, paystubs from the days before electronic payrolls, and warranties for appliances that had been discarded over a decade ago. By late afternoon, Morgan dared feel optimistic that they would finish by a reasonable hour, when David and Russ climbed into the attic. They handed down boxes and bags, an old trunk, lamps and furniture and rugs.

  “I don’t remember putting all this in the attic,” Morgan said. “I’m guessing most of this should have gone to the church yard sale years ago.”

  “I think we’re done.” Russ emerged from the attic, mopping his forehead with a bandana.

  “Wait.” David’s feet scuffed across the beams and Morgan heard rustling. “What’s this?”

  He climbed down the attic ladder. David carried a bright orange canvas shopping bag with a hardware store’s name and logo printed in black.

  “I didn’t see that,” Russ said.

  “It was hidden,” David said. “My flashlight reflected off the orange color, or I might not have noticed it.”

  “What do you think’s inside?” Sarah asked.

  David shrugged. “Nails? Caulking? Dad probably fixed something in the attic, and left the bag up there.”

  They took seats on the kitchen chairs. David emptied the bag onto the table. Colorful paper wrapped four objects.

  “Christmas presents,” Sarah said

  “They’re not mine,” David said. “I always hid my presents in my closet.”

  “Me, too.” Sarah looked at Morgan.

  Morgan shrugged. “They must have been your dad’s.” She felt a catch in her throat as she added, “Before he got sick.”

  Sam, in his usual utilitarian style, had printed names on each package with a marker. David handed the small packages across the kitchen table.

  “Should we save them for Christmas?” Sarah asked.

  “These were for Christmas at least two years ago,” David said. “Or more.”

  The trio looked at Morgan.

  “We open them now.”

  There was no earth-shattering revelation in Sam’s handmade stocking stuffers. Just the knowledge that he had thought of each of them. They had discovered his one last gesture of affection as they cleaned out the family home.

  Sarah burst into hormonal tears as she held up her gift, a wooden manger scene Sam had carved in his garage shop. Russ threw an arm around her and pulled her into a comforting hug as he pushed his gift into the center of the table: a stack of numbers, their street address, ready to nail to the front of Sarah and Russ’s home. David opened a package containing a whittling knife and a donkey, obviously carved with that knife. Maybe it was one of the rock shop donkeys David had loved as a child, or perhaps it was meant to represent the animal the Savior had ridden into Jerusalem.

  “Open yours, Mom.” Sarah sniffled and wiped her nose with Russ’s bandana.

  Morgan’s fingers trembled as she tore open the green and red paper. The eight-by ten-inch wooden plaque was a picture of a mountain scene. Each element in the picture—mountains, pine trees, and a cabin—was formed from thin layers of wood. Different types of wood made the elements distinct. Lighter mountains, darker trees, and the cabin a shade in between.

  “It’s Golden Springs,” David said. “That cabin we stayed in one summer.”

  “Dad always wanted to stay there again,” Sarah said. “We never did.”

  Russ grasped her hand. “Your family had that time. Focus on that.”

  “I remember that cabin.” Morgan wiped her eyes with a paper napkin. “We couldn’t figure out how to light the heater that first night, and it was so cold.”

  Sarah smiled. “David and I had bunk beds in the next room, but we piled into bed with you and Dad.”

  Soon they were all in tears, sharing reminiscences of Sam, and Morgan realized that they had never truly mourned him as a family. Each had immersed themselves in their own sorrow, perhaps trying to withhold their pain from the others. Morgan sent a silent prayer of thanks to Sam for giving them this moment.

  It seemed the work went faster with their hearts unburdened. By sunset of a day entirely too long and wearying, loads had been delivered to a storage locker, Sarah and Russ had packed furniture and boxes to take to their house, and David had stuffed what he didn’t put in storage into his truck. Morgan filled her enormous suitcase with framed photos and photo albums, shoes and clothes, and some of Sam’s old clothes that looked about the right size for Del. The house was not empty by any means, but the important things had been dealt with.

  Dinner at Sarah and Russ’s house was wonderfully relaxing. Everyone seemed relieved of emotional burdens they’d been carrying for over two years. David took Morgan back to her hotel room, despite Russ’s insistence that she stay with them. As her son dropped her off, Morgan repeated her invitation for David to spend the summer in Golden Springs.

  “I need help at the shop,” Morgan said. “I can’t pay much, but you’ll have free room and board.”

  “Mom, the place is tiny. Where would I stay?”

  “We’ll make room.” Morgan smiled as she thought of Del’s trailer and the barn loft. “You’d be surprised.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  * * *

  The next morning, Morgan’s back ached and her muscles were sore, but she was ready when Sarah and Russ picked her up. They met David for breakfast, then went to church services. Even a day ago, being fussed over by her old congregation would have been unbearable. Instead, it felt like a family reunion.

  Then it was back to work, emptying out the rest of the house. Morgan’s friends came to help, and a considerable number of Russ’s family, too. They loaded three trucks with the church yard-sale donations, hauled a load of trash to the dump, and vacuumed, scrubbed, and dusted.

  As she handed the keys to Dot, Morgan thought she might start crying again, but it seemed her tears had finally all been shed.

  That night they attended a Sons of Norway dance with Russ’s family. David seemed quite interested in one blond-haired Nordic miss, dressed in traditional costume. The evening ended early. Most folks had to work the next day. Saying her goodbyes was more painful than Morgan anticipated.

  The next morning, she took a cab to the Sioux Falls Regional Airport. She would be back soon enough, when Sarah had the baby. The plane lifted off. As she watched the South Dakota farmland below, Morgan accepted that there was no going back now. Not to the life she had known.

  Del and Barton picked her up from the Granite Junctio
n airport. Morgan settled into the seat between the two men and watched the scenery up the pass. Del seemed to understand Morgan’s silence, and Barton just didn’t talk much anyway.

  “Whoa!” Barton slammed on the brakes. The tires squealed.

  Morgan gripped the dashboard as Barton swerved to miss a car in the opposite lane. The driver had misjudged the curve. The narrow canyon didn’t offer much shoulder, but Barton managed to miss both the oncoming car and the rock wall towering on their right.

  “Man, oh man,” Del muttered. “That was some good driving, Barton. You saved all our necks, including that numb-brain driver.”

  Topaz Pass had more than its fair share of accidents. The two-lane road twisted down the narrow canyon, giving drivers plenty of blind spots.

  “It’s easy to miscalculate that curve,” Barton said, “especially if you’re not familiar with the pass. I’m just glad we avoided an accident.”

  Del tugged at his bushy mustache. “Can you call it an accident when someone’s driving too fast?”

  An accident that was someone’s fault reminded Morgan of Rolf, and how he’d thrown himself off an ATV to avoid being shot. The gunman, or woman, had caused his accident, but in this case the result was far better than what they’d intended.

  “How is Rolf?” Morgan asked. “Have you heard anything?”

  “He’s back at work already,” Barton said.

  “Rolf’s a tough guy,” Del said. “A dislocated shoulder is no fun. Lucky thing that’s all he’s dealing with, though. The chief recovered the bullet that missed Rolf. It was a hollow point. If it had hit him, it would have torn him up pretty bad.”

  “It would have killed him,” Barton said.

  “Did Chief Sharp find the ATV people yet?” Morgan suspected it was too much to ask that the bad guys be in custody just because she was home now.

  “Not yet,” Barton said. “Lonnie and some other Pine County Search and Rescue folks are keeping an eye out for ATVs and helmets matching what he saw.”

  “Under that coating of mud,” Morgan added.

  “Unlikely the guy who took a shot at Rolf will be out riding trails any time soon,” Barton said.

  They reached Golden Springs, and then took the turn up Hill Street. Trevin must have heard them pull up. The young man, his honey-brown skin framed by dark hair in shoulder-length dreadlocks, met them at the back door to the living quarters. Trevin helped Barton drag the suitcase through the back door and into the kitchen.

  “We’ve got customers,” Trevin said. “I have to get back to work.”

  Morgan liked the sound of that, then reminded herself Trevin was on temporary loan. She kicked off her pumps, even though the worn linoleum was chilly under her stocking feet.

  The kitchen looked and smelled like home, with a wood fire going in the stove and coffee scenting the air. A vase with a rustic arrangement of wildflowers sat in the center of the table. Morgan leaned close to smell the perfume of springtime in the mountains. Then she noticed the delicate lavender spikes of elephant head in the bouquet. Morgan felt dizzy as her heart jumped into panic mode.

  “Where did the flowers come from?” she asked Del.

  “They weren’t here when I left.”

  Morgan rushed through the door separating the living quarters from the shop. A startled customer nearly dropped a fossilized fish. Morgan padded across the pine floor in her stocking feet, giving them fatal runs.

  “Trevin, where did you get the flowers?”

  “Big Foot gave them to me, after I fed him lunch.”

  “Flowers and lunch? Trevin, he’s wanted by the police for questioning. Deputy Parker stayed here hoping to catch the guy. Is he still here?” Morgan scanned the shop, but there were no Sasquatches. Just tourists and rock hounds.

  “No. I tried to get him to hang around, but he and his wolf bolted.”

  Morgan shook her head. “You fed him lunch? You’d better start at the beginning.”

  A customer approached the checkout counter, glancing at Morgan’s shredded stockings. Trevin rang up a sale, then joined Morgan on the aspen bench.

  “I heard a noise outside,” Trevin said. “I thought it might be raccoons. But it was this old guy, digging through the trash. He was really scruffy. He reeked.” Trevin pinched his nostrils to indicate how intense the odor had been. “I figured he was your Sasquatch. I mean, he was a big guy, huge, and he had a long beard that could have had birds living in it, it was so knotted up. Not like my hair.” Trevin pulled at one of his dreadlocks, the matted ropes of dark hair hanging in orderly fashion. “It looked really bad. There can’t be more than one guy like that around here.”

  “Did Deputy Parker see him?”

  “That’s the bad part. I called his cell phone, but he was gone on a call. Some biker was busting up the bar in town. He’ll be back as soon as he can.”

  “But the flowers, Trevin?”

  “I took a plate of food out to him. I hope you don’t mind. I sorta raided your fridge. I told him to stick around, but then I got busy with customers. When I had a chance to check on him, I noticed there was this bouquet of flowers on the windowsill alongside the empty plate. I put them in water.”

  “Did he say anything?” Morgan asked.

  “He never said a word. It’s like he was mute.”

  Great, Morgan thought. If Bill Sharp ever does catch up with the mountain man to question him, the guy won’t be able to tell him anything.

  Trevin waved his cell phone. “I got some pics of him.”

  Morgan hoped his photos proved more helpful than hers.

  Police Chief Sharp arrived with the deputy close to closing. A dark bruise circled his left eye.

  “What happened to you?” Del asked.

  “Drunk biker,” Sharp said. “I was sure glad J.B. showed up. I don’t know what they’re teaching in the military these days, but it worked.”

  A blush spread up Parker’s neck and his cheeks flamed. Morgan noticed the young deputy didn’t have a black eye.

  Sharp questioned Trevin while Parker and Del checked the barn loft and the trailer. There was no sign that the mountain man had been in either again. Morgan wished the deputy could extend his stay at the shop, but only two men policed Golden Springs, and Sharp couldn’t spare his deputy another night.

  After they closed the shop, and Trevin went home, Morgan unpacked her suitcase. Del was fixing his specialty for dinner: canned chicken-noodle soup and saltine crackers.

  “Del, I don’t know if these will fit, but I thought you could use something to replace what the mountain man stole.”

  She handed him a stack of flannel shirts, a fleece vest, and an insulated winter coat.

  “They were Sam’s,” she said. “David and Russ took what they could use.”

  Del accepted the stack of clothing, placed it on the table, and held up a shirt.

  “This still has the tags. You sure?”

  Morgan nodded. “I couldn’t bear to give these to the church yard sale. Some are brand new, and the rest Sam barely wore.”

  “I meant, will it bother you to see me wear Sam’s clothes?”

  “It’s not like those were his old favorites. Even if they were, I have to let go sometime.”

  “Yeah,” Del said. “It took me a while, but I finally cleaned out Harriet’s closet a couple years ago. Funny thing, but I guess I kept hoping she’d show back up, and she’d need her old things. Beatrice said she knew some ladies around town who could use a warm coat or a new outfit. New to them, anyway.”

  “We donated three pickup loads of items for our church yard sale,” Morgan said. “It felt good knowing pieces of our old life will be sold to fill the shelves of the food pantry. It wasn’t fun, but I’m glad we finally cleaned out the house. The trip back was good for all of us.”

  Over a steaming bowl of soup, she told Del about finding the stash of Christmas presents. How it had been just the thing to tip them all over the edge, and let the tears flow. Now she felt like healing was fin
ally happening for her children.

  “And what about you?” Del asked.

  “Somehow Sam leaving those presents helped me realize he wouldn’t want his family living in sorrow the rest of their days. If it had been me to go first, I’d feel the same way.”

  Morgan retired early, exhausted from travel and the busy day at the shop, but the moon shone bright through the southwest-patterned fabric of the bedroom curtains. The mountain man might be out there, or in the barn, or prying boards off windows to get inside Del’s trailer.

  Why here? Morgan wondered. Is it because I found Carlee? That I’m the one who caused people to take her away?

  She shuddered and huddled deeper under the quilt at the thought of the mountain man watching Carlee’s body slowly decay to bone. If that’s what happened. He might have stumbled across her body long after she died. But scavenging animals usually dragged body parts around.

  What was with the flowers?

  Had the mountain man planted them for Carlee? And had he brought the ammolite from somewhere else, or was there treasure buried in local mountains?

  When Morgan finally fell asleep, she dreamed about finding a pile of opalescent ammolite in a rainbow of colors on the hill behind the rock shop. But when she tried to excavate the gems, she discovered they were attached, not to shells, but to human bones.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  * * *

  Tuesday morning, Del hitched a ride with Beatrice to his doctor’s appointment in Granite Junction. Morgan was stuck at the shop by herself. When the veterinarian showed up, Morgan was glad he knew the donkeys and the property well enough to let himself in the barn. He returned in between customers to give Morgan the report.

  “Temple Mountain Feed and Seed carries this equine supplement.” Doctor Alvin McCormick scribbled on a prescription pad. He was one of Teruko’s grown children, and had inherited an exotic blend of her delicate Japanese features and his hearty Irish-American father’s red hair and freckles. “Give Adelaide a dose of the pellets with her oats once a day. A measuring scoop comes with the bucket of supplements.”