River of Bones

by Dan Padavona

  Raven touched her forehead.

  “What would a campground thief want with the county sheriff?”

  “I might be wrong. He could have been looking at someone on the water.”

  Raven grunted. Examining Darren’s photo, she recognized the tread pattern.

  “I’ll be darned.”

  “What’s that?”

  Raven removed her phone and called up the photographs she took around the cabins.

  “It’s the same guy,” she said, placing her phone beside his. She zoomed in on the two pictures as Darren leaned forward. “I shot these while working the Paul Phipps investigation.”

  “So this guy robs cabins and hides out in the woods, watching houses across the lake. What’s his motivation?”

  Raven slapped her thigh.

  “That settles it. We’ll cover the cabins with cameras and catch our thief before he strikes again.”

  She set her phone aside, and he turned to her.

  “Earlier, I asked you about Chelsey. You weren’t ready to talk.”

  Raven wrung her hands. How much should she tell Darren? She suspected her friend was cutting herself. But there might have been a logical explanation for the lacerations on Chelsey’s chest. Raven swallowed.

  “My brother brought Scout by the office Wednesday morning. Chelsey was her usual self…well, the way she’s acted lately. She hid in the kitchen and wouldn’t say hello. Then she dropped her coffee mug and made a mess. After LeVar left with Scout, I helped Chelsey pick up. That’s when I noticed her chest.”

  “What was wrong with her chest?”

  Raven felt a sob coming on and placed a fist against her lips.

  “It was covered with cuts. Like someone went at her with a razor.”

  Darren fell back.

  “You think she’s cutting herself?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, that was my first guess.”

  “She’s acted strangely over the last month.”

  “I’m worried about her, Darren. What if her depression comes back?”

  He rested his elbow on the couch and set his chin on his palm.

  “What if her depression is already back?”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “It’s common for people with histories of depression to relapse. Is she seeing a doctor?”

  “If she was, she wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Hmm.”

  Raven pushed her hair off her shoulder.

  “Darren, did Thomas mention anything about getting back together with Chelsey?”

  He dropped his brow.

  “No. I would have remembered, given their history.”

  “Something happened between the two of them. Please keep this to yourself, but after I spoke with Chelsey last month, she decided she’d try again with Thomas.”

  “That guy is still in love with her. He’d never admit it, but you can see it in his eyes whenever she walks into the room.”

  “Exactly. So why would he drive her away?”

  “He wouldn’t. Something else must have happened.”

  Raven scrubbed her hand down her face.

  “I might be way off base with this. Either way, we need to watch Chelsey and make sure she’s okay.”

  “Raven, if Chelsey isn’t in her right mind, we need to tell someone.”

  “Oh, God. What if I’m wrong and making mountains out of molehills?”

  He touched her shoulder.

  “What if you’re right, and we don’t step in before something terrible happens?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Saturday, August 14th

  9:10 a.m.

  LeVar patted Jack on the head as the big dog watched him fish two glazed donuts out of the box.

  “Sorry, these aren’t for you.”

  The dog cocked his head, tongue hanging out and beading with saliva.

  As LeVar plated the donuts, Thomas shuffled into the kitchen and yawned. The sheriff wore baggy shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops, his disheveled hair messier than normal. He’d worked late pouring over his notes on the Skye Feron and Justine Adkins cases. LeVar had glimpsed him through the window last night, guilty that he’d hidden their investigation from the sheriff. Until LeVar found concrete evidence, he needed to keep the investigation secret. Thomas wouldn’t approve of their group, especially with Scout involved.

  “I picked up a dozen donuts from the Broken Yolk this morning. Hope you don’t mind me snatching a couple.”

  Thomas pawed through the box and grabbed a donut.

  “Why would I mind? You paid. Take ten bucks out of my wallet.”

  “My treat, Shep Dawg.”

  Thomas smirked.

  “Shep Dawg. I kinda like that. But I still want to pay.”

  “I don’t pay full price. Ruth gives me a discount. You know how that goes.”

  He turned to leave before the sheriff asked any more questions.

  “You want to grill later?”

  “Say the word, bruh.”

  “All right.” Thomas narrowed his eyes as LeVar slid the deck door open. “I’ll check in with you after four.”

  LeVar winced as he closed the door behind him. Was Thomas on to their investigation club? He stopped himself from running and did his best to appear casual while he crossed the yard. Inside the guest house, he pulled the curtain on the front door and exhaled.

  Scout was already scouring the security camera footage from last night.

  “Find my prowler yet?” he asked.

  She glanced over her wheelchair and shook her head.

  “But I caught three raccoons scrambling between our yards. Oh, and a dozen deer.”

  Scout was all smiles as she ran through the footage on high speed.

  “That’s lit,” he said, pointing at the screen with his half-eaten donut. “You can see the sun rising. See what I did there? Lit, sunrise?”

  “Yeah, you’re a real Chris Rock, LeVar.”

  He slid the plate in front of her.

  “What’s first on the agenda?”

  “We should pick up where we left off yesterday.”

  “The girl Paige and Justine tormented. Dawn.”

  Scout called up two browser windows. One held a digital yearbook from Harmon High School from the year Skye Feron vanished. The second contained Kane Grove High’s yearbook.

  “I get the impression Paige wasn’t as liked as she was popular,” said Scout. “Dawn might have been a rival.”

  “We don’t know her last name.”

  “It sucks, but we’ll go through both yearbooks, name by name. If she’s in there, we need to find her.”

  Outside the window, a family floated on the lake in kayaks. Scout returned to work, examining the two senior classes and running her finger along the names.

  “I don’t get it,” said Scout, shaking her head. “There’s nobody named Dawn in either yearbook.”

  “Weird. It’s a common name.”

  “Not common enough. I’m unsure where to go from here.”

  The guest house turned quiet as they mulled over their decisions.

  “Let’s go back to Webb-WLHS and find everything we can on her.”

  “We scoured the unofficial forum.” Scout slapped her forehead. “Why didn’t I think of it?”

  “What?”

  Scout typed in a blur as she opened a new search window.

  “People who hide behind sock puppet accounts often use the same name elsewhere.”

  “So we search the internet for Webb-WLHS.”

  “And we figure out who he or she is by following the breadcrumbs.”

  Scout scanned the results and stopped on a classified advertisement. LeVar pointed at the first link.

  “Is that an advertisement from Wolf Lake?”

  “It might be.” Scout opened the link. “Someone sold a snowblower under that user name. But I don’t see an address.” Her eyes hovered over the contact information. “Bingo. There’s a phone number.”

  “Scout, it’s a
607 area code. That’s our region.”

  As they considered their next move, LeVar tapped his foot impatiently.

  “We should call this person.”

  “And say what?”

  “Duh. That we want to buy the snowblower.” He punched the number into his phone. “I’ll call. I sound more like an adult than you. No offense.”

  “None taken, old man.”

  He grinned. In his ear, the phone rang. Switching the call to speaker, he set down the phone and waited.

  “Hello?”

  Scout mouthed, “Is that a woman?”

  LeVar shrugged. The pitch was too neutral to determine gender.

  “Is this the person selling the snowblower?”

  A long pause followed.

  “That’s right. Who’s calling?”

  “Uh…” Scout slapped his arm to get him talking. “Benton Brickfield.”

  Scout dropped her head to her chest.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Brickfield?”

  “My snowblower died last winter, and I need something new this year. What’s the horsepower?”

  The unknown person read the details over the phone.

  “I didn’t notice an address in your listing. I live in Harmon. You close by?”

  “The address is 4890 County Line Road.”

  LeVar snapped his fingers and gave Scout a thumbs up. This person lived just outside Wolf Lake.

  “The snowblower is one-hundred-fifty. Cash only. No checks.”

  “That’s fair. When is a good time to pick it up? I can borrow my buddy’s truck next week.”

  “How about Monday or Tuesday afternoon?”

  “I can make that work, Mrs….”

  LeVar drew the word out, prompting the person to give a name.

  “Remember. Cash only. If you bring a check or credit card, no sale. See you then, Mr. Brickfield.”

  The caller hung up.

  A grin formed on Scout’s lips.

  “I can’t believe you used the name Benton Brickfield.”

  “Shut up. It was the best I could come up with on the spot.”

  “And you want to be a private investigator.” She tutted. “You need to think fast under pressure. Are you really gonna drive to County Line Road?”

  LeVar leaned back and closed his eyes.

  “Naw. We gotta bring the sheriff in on this.”

  “Already?”

  “We found someone on the forum harassing Paige Sutton and Justine Adkins, and this person lives outside Wolf Lake.”

  “That doesn’t mean Webb-WLHS murdered Skye and kidnapped Justine.”

  “It’s a solid lead.” LeVar glanced over his shoulder at the A-Frame and groaned. Thomas wouldn’t be happy LeVar had investigated the state park case with Scout. “I have to tell him.”

  Scout chewed her lip.

  “If you say so. Do what you have to do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Saturday, August 14th

  9:35 a.m.

  Thomas opened his contact list. His finger hovered over Chelsey’s name. She’d fallen off the face of the earth over the last month, and Raven always became quiet when Thomas brought Chelsey’s name into the conversation. Something was happening to Chelsey. Thomas feared the depression was back, that he’d lose her forever if the sickness dug its claws into Chelsey and refused to let go.

  He couldn’t decide. Calling her uninvited seemed like a violation. She didn’t want his company and made it clear. Even if he mustered the courage to click the send icon, she’d recognize his number. No chance she’d answer.

  Thomas placed the call and reached Chelsey’s voice-mail after several rings. He waited for her playfully sarcastic message to finish. When the tone rang in his ear, he swallowed.

  “Chelsey, it’s Sheriff…Thomas. Haven’t spoken to you in a long time and wondered if everything was okay. Call me or stop by the office. Would love to get your thoughts on the skeleton we found below the falls.” He didn’t know what else to say. “Anyhow, if we put our heads together—”

  His time expired. Thomas pushed the phone across the table, feeling like an idiot. Jack lay at his feet with his snout resting on his paws, the dog sensing Thomas’s discomfort. He leaned down and stroked the dog’s fur, cursing his inability to find the right words whenever he spoke to Chelsey.

  A knock pulled his eyes to the deck door. LeVar waited outside with the plate he’d borrowed. Thomas waved him in.

  “Wolfed down those donuts pretty fast, I see.”

  LeVar’s gaze flew to Jack at the mention of wolfing. The teenager set the plate on the counter and took a composing breath.

  “I gotta be straight with you about something.”

  Thomas stood from his chair and circled the dining room table.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I didn’t eat both donuts. One was for Scout.”

  Thomas snorted, expecting a punchline. LeVar just stood there, examining his shoelaces.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Thomas, we’re investigating the Skye Feron disappearance.”

  Resting his back against the wall, Thomas opened his mouth and stopped. LeVar’s admission caught him off guard.

  “That’s potentially a murder investigation, LeVar. I support Scout’s interests as much as anyone. But her mother won’t approve of Scout researching a homicide. Not after what happened in the Jeremy Hyde case. How long has this been going on?”

  “Since yesterday morning.”

  LeVar glanced out the window.

  “Something else you want to tell me?”

  “Raven and Darren are involved too.”

  Thomas jiggled his head in surprise.

  “The four of you are investigating the Skye Feron disappearance?”

  “For real, for real. And the Justine Adkins case. We believe they’re related.”

  Thomas wandered back to the table and fell into a chair.

  “This isn’t a game, LeVar. We might be dealing with two murders.”

  “We understand. That’s why I’m coming to you now. Scout and I found something you need to see.”

  * * *

  “Tell me about this person again,” Thomas said, leaning over Scout’s shoulder as she typed at the keyboard.

  “We haven’t determined the person’s identity. He, or she, hides behind a fake user name and keeps attacking Paige Sutton and Justine Adkins on the Wolf Lake High alumni forum.”

  “I can’t speak to Justine Adkins’s personality. But I’ve met Paige Sutton, and I’m sure she ruffled a few feathers during her high school days. That doesn’t make this poster a kidnapper or murderer.”

  “No,” LeVar said, seated at the card table. “But trolling a forum under a fake name is sketchy.”

  “You’re positive the name is fake?”

  “We went through the high school yearbook, and there isn’t anyone named Webb.”

  Thomas squinted his eyes at the screen.

  “It’s worth looking into. We don’t have any leads yet. This Dawn the poster refers to…Dawn…why does that name ring a bell?”

  “That’s another mystery we haven’t solved,” said Scout, turning her chair to face Thomas. “We can’t find anybody named Dawn in the yearbooks.”

  “Heck, I can’t believe there’s a secret Wolf Lake High alumni forum. I hadn’t heard about this.”

  “That’s why it’s called a secret forum,” LeVar grinned.

  “But I attended that school.”

  “You became a cop. Maybe your old buddies don’t want law enforcement snooping around, checking up on people.”

  Thomas waved the idea away and stared over the water. Dawn. Where had he encountered that name before?

  “You copied the address?”

  LeVar ripped the note off the memo pad and handed it to Thomas.

  “County Line Road is right outside Wolf Lake.”

  “I’m familiar with the location.” Thomas folded the note and slid it inside his pocket. “I’ll
swing past the house and tell you what I find.”

  Scout and LeVar shared a glance.

  “Does that mean you’re not angry with us?” Scout asked.

  “I’m not angry. But I have to speak with your mother about this.” Scout lowered her eyes. “As far as I can tell, all you did was sift through forum messages and fool someone into believing you want to buy a snowblower.” Thomas smiled at LeVar. “By the way, if you ever use an undercover name like Benton Brickfield again, I’ll purge you from the law enforcement database. You sound like a country club flunky.”

  “Told you it was weak,” Scout said.

  Thomas leaned toward Scout.

  “Your mother still hasn’t forgiven me for the Jeremy Hyde fiasco. Let me smooth things over. As long as you aren’t investigating alone, and you have LeVar, Raven, and Darren monitoring your activity, it should be all right.”

  “Thank you for understanding.”

  Thomas patted his pocket.

  “Thank you for the lead. Something tells me the two of you have long careers in law enforcement ahead of you. Just keep me in the loop from now on. Okay?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Saturday, August 14th

  10:20 a.m.

  Raven twisted the key in the lock. The converted house seemed to inhale as she stepped into the entryway and hung her sweatshirt on the coat rack. The afternoons remained warm in Wolf Lake, but the morning chill took longer to burn off, a sign autumn colors would return before long.

  Hoping to catch up on her caseload, she strode down the halls of Wolf Lake Consulting. After turning the corner, she pulled up and touched her heart. Chelsey was already here, on a weekend no less. Her boss leaned back in a rolling chair with her feet propped on the desk.

  “Chelsey, I didn’t think you’d be here on a Saturday.”

  “When were you planning to tell me about the state park research?”

  Raven swallowed and sat at her desk, Chelsey’s stare shooting daggers across the room.

  “That’s off the books. I’m just—”

  “Playing amateur detective with your friends.” Chelsey swept her hair off her forehead. Her eyes sank into her skull, her face pallid and drawn. Was she eating? “We’re swamped with cases, and you’re adding to the workload.”