Coldfall

by Dirk Patton

  “Really?” I asked, keeping my thoughts to myself.

  “Really!” she said forcefully.

  Even though I couldn’t see her eyes, I could feel the weight of her stare. I took a deep breath, careful to let it out quietly so she didn’t think I was dismissing her.

  “Why would the government do that?”

  “You trust them?” she asked with a hiss of disdain. “After what they said on TV? You know that shit ain’t true! And if it’s a lie, then what else are they lying about?”

  I rolled that over in my head and had to grudgingly admit to myself that she had a good point.

  “Okay, but what the hell do we do about it?”

  “That’s what I’ve been thinking about,” Tanya said, her mood softening when she realized I was willing to entertain her suspicions. “There might be a way we can see what really went down.”

  “See it? How?”

  “Past few weeks, we’ve been having problems with things going missing. Tools mostly, and a few bags of medicated feed. You know, the really expensive stuff.”

  I nodded my head in understanding.

  “Well, Dad was pissed off. Was sure it had to be one of the hands, otherwise, if it was strangers coming in, the dogs would’ve gone nuts. He was ready to line all of them up and interrogate them, then search the bunk house if nobody fessed up, but Mom had a better idea.”

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “Dad was a big time hunter. Every year, few weeks before elk season, he’d go up into the mountains and set up a few trail cameras. You know the kind?”

  She was talking about a self-contained unit that was battery powered and motion activated. Many of them even have night vision. They’re strapped to a tree by hunters and will snap photos of anything that comes within range. Reviewing the digital footage will give you a good idea which area the game is frequenting so you’re not stomping all over looking for them. I nodded, having an idea what she was going to say.

  “Well, Mom’s idea was to set up some of them and get proof of who was stealing from us. Use it to have the sheriff arrest them and send a message to the rest of the guys that you don’t fuck with the Meadows. Probably a better idea than Dad kicking someone’s ass.”

  “And did he?” I asked. “Set them up, I mean.”

  Tanya nodded.

  “Three of them. Ever been to my place?”

  “Not since I was a little kid,” I said, shaking my head.

  “There are three big trees around the house. He put one in each tree during the day when the guys were out working. No one but me, Mom and him knew they were there. And they’ve got camo paint. Even if you know they’re there, you can’t spot them unless you’re within a few feet.”

  “They’re still there?”

  “Unless the FBI found them. He only put them up two days before...”

  Just like me, she still couldn’t finish those final few words.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “I’d bet a million bucks they didn’t find them. I’m not kidding, Joe! If you don’t know where to look, you won’t see them. And who the hell is going to check some big old elms for a camera?”

  I sat there in the dark, thinking about everything she’d said. And couldn’t poke any holes in it. The FBI had outright lied about our dads. There were no two ways about it! Try as I might, I couldn’t come up with a reason why. But maybe, just maybe, there was a way to figure this shit out. All we needed to do was get the cameras.

  “How do we get them?” I asked.

  The Meadows’ ranch was still a crime scene. The FBI had it locked down and wouldn’t even allow Tanya to come in and pick up her clothes.

  “I’ll bet you know this place like the back of your hand,” she said, sweeping her arm around. “I mean, how else would you sneak out to go see Sarah?”

  Despite myself, I blushed. I’d done that more than a few times. Creep out of the house, head across a back pasture to where I had an old, rusty bicycle hidden in the brush. Ride it to the road where Sarah would pick me up. A couple of times I’d barely made it home before Mom and Dad had gotten out of bed. Of course, people get up early on a ranch.

  “You’d be right,” I said.

  “Well, it’s the same for me. If I could sneak past my Dad, I can sure as hell sneak past a bunch of city boys and climb a tree. They’ll never know we were there.”

  I nodded agreement. Probably just like me, she’d spent a lot of time wandering around her parent’s ranch. Hell, if you want to know the best way to slip in and out of someplace without being caught, ask the kid that lives there.

  “We should go at night,” I said.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Tonight.”

  “Now?”

  “Those cameras only have so much memory. Can only hold so many pics. Once they’re full, they start writing over the oldest ones. If there’re FBI agents wandering around, their picture’s being taken every few minutes. I hope we’re not already too late and the pics from… that day… aren’t gone.”

  Chapter 15

  I went into the house to tell my mom we were leaving for a while. With an excuse ready as to why we were going out, I found her in Mary’s room. My little sister was lying on her back, eyes open, staring straight up. Mom, with an arm protectively thrown over her small body, had her face buried in Mary’s hair and was snoring softly.

  After a long moment standing in the door, Mary looked at me with hollow eyes and a completely flaccid expression. I’d experienced denial, anger and depression since my dad had died. But not rage. Not until now. The look in my little sister’s eyes ignited a fire in me that I had never experienced.

  Holding Mary’s gaze, I lifted my hands to my chest and folded them into the outline of a heart. Telling her I loved her. I didn’t think she was going to respond. Wasn’t really sure she was even looking at me. But as I was ready to step away, she returned the sign briefly before going back to staring at the ceiling.

  Walking softly, I headed for the stairs, pausing when I passed my parent’s room. Glancing in, I saw a pair of dirty work boots resting on a small rug near the far wall. My dad’s. Beyond them, a rifle was leaned into the corner. Our home hadn’t been a crime scene, even though the FBI had torn it apart. And for some strange reason, they hadn’t taken my dad’s guns. Maybe because they couldn’t be part of the lie since my mom and I knew they’d never left the house.

  I stared at the rifle for a moment, then walked in and picked it up. It was an old Colt AR-15 in semi-auto. I’d shot it plenty of times and was grateful that Dad had made me learn how to use it and care for it. Nothing like getting rifle training from a Marine.

  Sliding the closet door open, I grabbed a couple of loaded magazines and stuffed them into the back pockets of my jeans. Starting to close the door, I paused when I saw Dad’s pistol on the shelf.

  It was a nine-millimeter Sig that he’d carried in Iraq. Somehow, he’d managed to hold on to it when he left the Corps. I’d also shot this gun many times and with practiced familiarity, made sure there was a round in the chamber and it was fully loaded. I didn’t see any extra magazines right off and spent a few seconds looking. Not in the closet.

  Shoving the pistol into my waistband, I looked around the room for a likely place Dad would have kept them. Stepped over and pulled open the top drawer of his nightstand. Two loaded magazines were neatly aligned on one side, but what caught my eye was the dull gleam of his most prized possession.

  An automatic opening knife, crafted with a Solingen steel blade and custom made for him by Marine General James Mathis. Yes, that General Mathis. On the polished side of the body was engraving:

  To Gy Sgnt Joseph Tread, USMC

  Oorah, Marine! Maj Gen J. Mathis

  I looked at the heavy knife in my hand. Gently bounced it a couple of times, getting the feel for the balance. Sure, I’d been allowed to hold it before, but only on those occasions when Dad was in the mood to tell the story of why General Mathis had given it to him.

  Look
ing through the open door, I half expected to see Dad standing there, glaring at me for going into his private area. But he wasn’t. Running my thumb over the cold steel of the handle, I felt the release knob and pressed. A six-inch blade sprang open with more force than I expected and I nearly dropped it. I may have held it before, but I’d never been allowed to deploy it, as Dad said.

  The blade gleamed, the edge appearing razor sharp. But I expected nothing less from my dad. Before I got lost in memories, I closed the knife and slipped it into my pocket. Grabbing several spare magazines, I slung the rifle over my shoulder like I’d been taught and hustled out of the room.

  Tanya was waiting for me in the yard, her eyes growing wide when she saw me.

  “You know how to use that?” she asked.

  I nodded and led the way to the barn.

  “What’d your mom say?” she asked, hurrying to catch up.

  “She’s asleep.”

  “What are we doing?” Tanya asked as I pulled open one of the barn doors.

  “Getting gas for the ATV. Not gonna take Mom’s truck. If something happens, she’d be stuck here without it.”

  I picked up a red gas can that sloshed heavily and turned to find Tanya staring at me.

  “If something happens?” she asked, frowning. “We’re just going to get a camera.”

  “And my dad was only there to support yours,” I said, the hardness in my voice surprising me. “Look how that turned out.”

  I stepped around her and carried the can to the ATV. She stood to the side, watching me fill the fuel tank.

  “What happened? It’s like you’ve come out of a daze.”

  “Guess I have,” I said, not wanting to talk about the silent exchange with my little sister.

  Tank full, I shifted the machine into neutral and began pushing. Tanya, understanding I didn’t want to start it too close to the house and wake my mother, put her hands on the back and helped. Working together, we walked the ATV down the track that led to the gate. When I felt we were far enough away, I swung a leg over the seat and pressed the starter. The engine rumbled to life, then Tanya’s body was tight against my back, her arms circling my waist.

  “Is that a gun in your pants?” she asked in my ear.

  My head came around in surprise, then I realized her stomach was pressing against the pistol at the small of my back.

  “My dad’s,” I said. “From Iraq.”

  I adjusted the rifle to a more comfortable position, clicked into gear and slowly accelerated. We were still close enough to the house for Mom to hear us if I got too aggressive on the throttle.

  It took most of two hours to reach a point on Tanya’s property that was a mile behind her house. We’d cut across a neighboring ranch, then bounced through a dry wash and up a steep incline when we reached the boundary line for the Double M.

  Moving slower from there, Tanya had kept a sharp eye out for the FBI while I focused on navigating the terrain without showing any light. Fortunately, there was a three-quarter moon to provide some illumination, so I was able to avoid most of the rougher terrain features. Most.

  Shutting off the engine, I waited for Tanya to move, then stepped off. I took the key, but didn’t bother chaining up the rear wheels. We were about as in the middle of nowhere as it gets and I wasn’t worried about someone coming along and stealing our transportation.

  We moved without speaking, walking side by side, close enough to touch each other. Tanya impressed me with the way she navigated in the dark, her steps almost soundless in the night. I have to admit, I was a little irked to realize she was making less noise than I was.

  Glancing at her in the moonlight, I tried to understand the immaturity of high school. She was beautiful. Strong. Seemingly mature beyond her years. Certainly, more mature than I was. And she had the strength of character to defend her family’s name. But in school, she was an outcast for those very reasons. Well, not her looks, but those don’t matter if you don’t fit the rest of the mold.

  My mind turned to Sarah and her river party. What was she doing right now? If I was there, she’d probably be drunk, running around without her top and making sure everyone knew she was the prettiest, richest and loudest amongst them. And if anyone asked about her parents, she’d roll her eyes and launch into a recitation of how horrible they were. She was probably doing that even without me. Another glance to the side and I wondered how I’d ever stomached being with Sarah.

  “What?” Tanya asked in a low mumble. She’d caught me looking at her.

  “Nothing,” I said, glad it was too dark for her to see me blush.

  “Thinking about the party at the river?”

  “Kind of,” I said, surprised she’d guessed correctly.

  “Wish you were there?”

  “I’m right where I want to be,” I said without hesitation.

  She looked at me, holding my eyes for several steps before looking away.

  “Good. Now, keep your head in the game. We’re getting close.”

  I nodded, feeling foolish that I’d been thinking about girls at a time like this. But that didn’t stop me from stealing another appreciative glance.

  We slowed, moving carefully and watching all around. In the distance, I could just make out the trees Tanya had described. They were nothing other than dark smudges on the horizon. I glanced at her and she pointed to the side, then trailed her finger through the air toward the house, showing me the path we were going to take.

  I nodded and let her take the lead. Moving even slower, it occurred to me I should have the rifle in my hands, not bouncing on my back. I worked it around to the front and carried it the way my dad had shown me as we drew closer to the house. Reaching a tall chain link fence that was there to prevent predators from approaching the home, I knelt beside Tanya when she went to a knee.

  Yellow crime scene tape had been run around the perimeter of the house, woven through the fence. It flapped softly from a gentle breeze. The wind was in our face, carrying a soft sound to us that I couldn’t identify.

  “Hear that?” I whispered to Tanya.

  “Mumble, don’t whisper,” she said, following her own advice. “A whisper carries, mumbles don’t. And yes, I do.”

  We listened to whatever the sound was. Occasionally the breeze would strengthen, rustling the thousands of leaves on the three massive elm trees that shaded the house and we’d lose it, but when the trees fell silent, there it was again. After a few minutes, we shared a look and shrugged our shoulders.

  Directly to our front, on the far side of a shallow ditch, was a narrow gate. After a long look around the area, Tanya crept forward and turned over a rock. Beneath was a key that fit the padlock securing the gate and she released the hasp with an almost imperceptible click. Returning the key to its hiding place, she pulled the gate open and signaled me to follow.

  Slipping through the fence, we paused again to look for anyone who might be watching us, but saw nothing. Hurrying forward, we crossed a lawn in bad need of mowing and stopped at the base of the closest tree. The trunk was easily five feet in diameter, the spreading branches soaring over our heads.

  From our new position, I could hear the unidentified sound clearly enough to recognize it as a baseball game. It seemed to be coming from the front side of the house and I suspected the men assigned to keep the scene secure were sitting in their car, listening to it on the radio.

  Tanya tapped my arm and pointed up when I looked at her. She made a couple of other gestures that were Greek to me, then gave me an exasperated look. Grabbing me by the shoulders, she positioned me against the tree and mimed what she wanted me to do with her hands. Getting the idea, I let the rifle down, made a stirrup by interlacing my fingers and bent over.

  With a hand on top of my head for balance, Tanya raised a foot into my hands and straightened her leg. Standing up, I lifted until she grabbed the lowest branch, then her weight was gone. I stood there looking up, watching her make her way along the thick branch, then realized I sho
uld be keeping watch.

  Less than a minute later there was a soft “tsk” from above my head and I looked up. Tanya was sitting on the branch directly over me, a camera enclosure held out, ready to drop. I raised my hands and caught it neatly when she let go, gently placing it on the ground and looking back up with my arms extended.

  She lowered herself, hanging only by her hands, and I grasped her legs just below the knee. A moment of hesitation, then she released the limb and I carefully slid her down my body until her feet were on the ground. Other than the sound of her jeans rubbing against my shirt, we’d been silent.

  Grabbing the camera, she stuffed it into a backpack, then pointed at the next tree. It was at the far end of the house, screened from the front where the radio was playing the baseball game. We hurried to the tree and repeated the process, again making less sound than even the gentle night breeze.

  The second camera safely stored in her pack, Tanya pointed at the third tree. It was near the southwest corner of the house, obviously having been placed there to provide shade during the brutally hot summer afternoons. I looked at its location, then back at Tanya and shook my head. It was too far to the front and we’d be visible from where I thought the car was sitting. Tanya frowned and pointed again.

  Shaking my head, I leaned close until my lips brushed her ear and mumbled as softly as I could, explaining my concern. She grabbed my arm when I started to pull away, moving her mouth to my ear to answer.

  “That’s the only one with a view of the front. These two were for the barn.”

  I pulled back and we stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, I nodded reluctantly, earning a small smile.

  She led the way down the side of the house, rubbing along the siding. By the time we reached the front corner, she was taking a step at a time, pausing and listening in between each for several seconds. I stayed close, proud that I had the idea to keep watching the open ground to our side as well as the rear area we’d just left.