Fear at First Glance

by Dave Balcom

  Noon found us back at the hotel, bushed from the walk and proud to show off the four plump birds stashed in our cooler. At our room, I found a note from Jan that said she had gone to the sheriff’s office with Miles.

  I took a shower and then plopped down on the bed to cool off with a football game in progress. When I woke up, the room was dark, and I was alone. Judy had been left in her crate to clean herself up. There was no sign of Jan.

  I flipped open my phone and punched in Miles’ phone. It went unanswered until his voice mail kicked in. I said it was me and I was looking for Jan.

  I dressed and started downstairs and then I checked my messages, and then my call history until I found the Sheriff’s Office number, and dialed that.

  Andy Schmidt answered.

  “It’s Jim Stanton, Andy; I’m looking for Miles and my wife. Are they there?”

  “No sir; they left here about an hour ago. It was my impression that they were going to the House; I heard your wife say that you’d probably taken a nap after hunting. Did you do any good?”

  “Yes, we did. It was nice little hunt. Andy, what were they working on over there, do you know?”

  “They were working with the timeline, and they were doing a lot of Internet research on a Mark Decker, but I don’t think they found what they were looking for.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “No big deal, but when they left here they were talking about getting over to the museum in Stoney on Monday. I heard Jan say that there had to be a connection but to or about what, I have no idea.”

  I thanked him, and then dialed Jan’s phone and found myself praying that she’d answer, but it rang and rang before going to voice mail.

  I felt a familiar chill and knew it for what it was.

  I went to the desk clerk and asked him if there was a restaurant open on Sunday. He said the restaurant at Shanty Creek was always open, and that was about it on a Sunday.

  I decided to feed and water my pup and then go see if my wife and friend were out and about.

  With Judy cared for, I drove to the resort, and felt a leap of hope when I parked next to Miles’ sedan.

  I found them in the lounge, their heads together over a map. Remnants of hors d’oeuvres were scattered around their table. I walked past the bar and ordered a Stroh’s in a bottle.

  I tipped the bottle back and felt the long-remembered sensation of the beer biting at the back of my throat. I’m not much of a beer drinker, but there are times when nothing else will quite do what I need.

  I walked to the table, and pulled out a chair.

  “Oh, Jim! Good, you found us. I was just going to call you when I realized I’d let my phone die. Have you eaten anything?”

  I turned to Miles. “Battery in your phone dead, too?”

  “I don’t think so,” he was patting his pockets, “but I guess I’d have to go to the car to find out. Damn, I can’t believe I left it. That’d be a hell of a note if something broke and I was... You tried calling us?”

  Jan glommed on at that point, “Oh, dear God, Jim, I’m so sorry. You must have thought...”

  “Christ almighty,” Miles said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No harm, but you really do need to keep your phones handy and charged. What’s the use of having this technology if we don’t have it on us?”

  They were both mortified and looked it. I made a mental note to back off.

  “You want anything to eat?” Jan asked.

  “What time is it?”

  Miles laughed, “Four. We had salsa and chips and little tacos... lunch and a snack; we were going to call you and invite you to come for dinner...”

  “What’s so interesting in this map?”

  Miles stood up, “Jan, fill him in while I find my phone. I’ll be right back.”

  “We’re following up on some checking we did this morning after Gail headed back home,” Jan said. “Miles used the state’s data base and found out that Mark Decker has a home in East Grand Rapids and a cottage at Starvation Lake.”

  “Really? I’ve heard of that lake, what do you know about his cottage?”

  “Its address and its valuation for tax purposes – and it has to be a doozie. It’s valued at $250,000.”

  “How long has he had it?”

  “I don’t know, and didn’t think to ask.”

  Miles came in smiling. “Ready to take a drive?”

  “Where to?”

  “I’d like to see a piece of property over by Starvation Lake.”

  “Ever been there?”

  “Nope; I have friends who fish it during the winter; supposed to be real hot spot for large ’gills, but I find lakes Cadillac and Mitchell more than adequate in that department.”

  He headed us toward his sedan, but I stopped him. “I’ll drive, Miles. I have Judy in the back; I don’t want to leave her here.”

  “Just as well. I know your weapon is probably in the console, Jan? Are you armed?”

  “I am.”

  “Good, I’ll feel better if we’re all armed all the time for a while. I doubt if Big Mo was the last word on this affair.”

  We drove for just a bit more than an hour and let my OnStar direct us to the address Miles had copied from his research.

  The property was invisible from the highway, and a no-nonsense gate prevented us from playing lost and turning around.

  I drove to the next turn away from the lake and followed that gravel road in a round-about fashion until I noticed posted signs on the fence and deduced we were traveling the back property line of Decker’s hideaway.

  I continued on until another right turn materialized, and the same signs greeted the eye all the way back to the highway we’d come in on.

  “It may not be all that much of a place,” I told Jan. “It may be just about a square mile of property.”

  “Six hundred and forty acres of Kalkaska County scrub for a quarter of a million? Sounds a bit high to me,” Miles said.

  “There must be a house, too; but something under four hundred bucks an acre doesn’t surprise me, and I’m not sure I’d call this ‘scrub.’ There are worse parts of this county than here.”

  “What do you want to do next?”

  I had parked just down the road from the entrance gate and was turned in my seat to make eye contact with Jan and Miles. I could see the gate out the back of the vehicle, and was somewhat surprised to see a vehicle come down the driveway. I watched as Mark Decker climbed out of his truck, swung the gate open, and then got back in and drove through. He then got out, locked the gate behind himself, and drove away.

  “Well,” I said, “Mark Decker just left his place; probably headed back to Grand Rapids on a Sunday afternoon. “Maybe I should take a little walk to see what his place looks like...”

  “And then maybe I’d have to arrest you for trespassing. No, we’re not breaking any laws while I’m along. His privacy is safe with me.”

  “Yes, uncle. Then what about dinner? I’m starving.”

  “Back to Shanty?”

  “No, let’s see if I can find Manistee Lake down this road. I remember having a great pizza there years ago, and I’d be willing to see if it’s still as good as I recall.”

  “Better than Dave and Jim’s in Cadillac?” Miles asked.

  “Closer is all, but it was terrific.”

  It was just a short hop down the road to Manistee Lake, and as we drove I retold the story of how my Sandy and I had found this place after getting drenched in a storm while we were camping on the Manistee River.

  “I was expecting frozen, reheated bar pizza, but the guy surprised me by saying it was the best pizza this side of Detroit, so we gave it a go. It was the first time we’d seen pizza served on a pedestal, and it deserved the presentation. It was a treat.”

  I finished the story just as we drove up to where the old hotel used to be, but it had obviously the scene of a long ago fire. There was a gas station and convenience store across the street. I went over and asked if I was
in the right place.

  “Oh, sure,” an older gentleman behind the counter told me, “That was the Manistee Lake Hotel, all right; burned one night in the late ’90s. Nobody ever decided to rebuild it; property ended up back in the county’s hands. Didn’t bring a single bid when it went up for auction for back taxes.”

  I thanked him and walked back to the Suburban. I explained what I’d heard, and then drove all the way to Bellaire with two smart asses giggling over what kind of pizza brought the house down and similar witticisms.

  CHAPTER 47

  I awoke one week after Paul Ralph went missing with a completely different agenda than I had last Monday.

  I went for a walk and left Judy in the room with Jan. When I returned to the room I found a note that she had taken the suburban to the courthouse, and I could find my own breakfast.

  I was drinking my second cup of coffee when she bounced into the hotel restaurant and plopped herself down in the chair across from me wearing a huge smile to match her gleaming eyes.

  “You have a nice visit with the gals at the courthouse?”

  “Oh, yes! And I came home with a juicy bit of news. Mark Decker owns almost 800 acres of Kalkaska County. The house is a touch over 1,700 square feet and is valued at $60,000; there’s a barn on property, too. And there’s a lake!”

  “How did you learn all that in the Antrim County Courthouse?”

  “Oh, Sara called Sharon in Kalkaska, and she looked it all up for me.”

  “How long did that take you?”

  “About two minutes if you don’t count the gossiping.”

  “Did you learn anything else?”

  “No,” she wrinkled her forehead, “was I supposed to?”

  I didn’t answer, just took my coffee and headed for the door. “Come on, sleuth.”

  I got into the passenger side of the car, and Jan went behind the wheel. “Where to?”

  “Sheriff’s office.”

  As she drove, I searched for and dialed Tony’s Grand Rapids office number in my phone.

  “Bittner, Ralph and Associates,” the same professional voice answered.

  “Mr. Decker, please.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, Mr. Decker is out of the office this week.”

  “When do you expect him?”

  “I do not have that information. Can anyone else help you?”

  “Mr. Bittner?”

  “He’s in court this morning. I can give you his voice mail or take a message.”

  I left him a voice mail message asking for a call back and leaving my number as we pulled into the sheriff’s parking lot.

  “What are we doing here?” Jan asked.

  “I want to find out what Miles and Rick have planned for today, and I thought I would take a run back over to Decker’s place.”

  I got out of the truck and headed for the door with Jan scrambling to catch up to me. “Wait!”

  I stopped at the door.

  She put her hand on my arm. “What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing, but my gut tells me there’s something amiss with Decker and the Ralphs.” We walked into the office, and the deputy at the desk just waved us on towards the sheriff’s office.

  Rick greeted us at the door, “Come on in. I just hung up from the House; they said you’d just left.”

  “Any news?” I asked.

  “Nada, but Miles was here early and he and Andy Schmidt left a few minutes ago to go see Mark Decker.”

  “At Starvation Lake?”

  The sheriff nodded. “Yep. He told me about you folks going over there; said the fact that we haven’t heard a word from him since his best friend and family disappeared raises real questions in his eyes.”

  “Mine, too,” I said feeling my customary exasperation at being left on the sidelines while others worked the story in the field. “I thought I might head over there today. I called Decker’s office and they told me he was out for the week, and they didn’t know when he was scheduled to return.”

  “That’s what Miles said he heard, too.”

  “Rick, you have anything for us to do here?”

  “No, can’t think of anything. Jan, your research has helped us to this point, but I don’t have any more questions that you can look into for us. What are you thinking?”

  Jan thought for a few seconds. “I’m thinking that I’d like to talk with Mark Decker, but not as much as I’d like to talk with Tony or Paul or Betty.”

  He had a smile on his lips even as he was shaking his head, “I don’t see that happening anytime soon; you just keep thinking.”

  “You have our phone numbers, if you need us, just call; okay?”

  “Stay out of trouble, you two.”

  Back at the Suburban I got behind the wheel. “Where to?” She asked.

  “I’m gonna go see if we can find Mr. Decker.”

  “I’m not sure Miles is going to be happy to see us.”

  “I was thinking you might want to hang around the hotel for a while...”

  “Fat chance.”

  “Have it your way,” I left it there as I headed south on Highway 88.

  The gate was open to Decker’s driveway so I turned in. The place seemed deserted when we got to the house. Knocking on the front door didn’t change anything, either.

  I tried the knob, and the door swung open. I hesitated to enter, and, instead, backed away and stepped down off the porch. Jan was half in and half out of the passenger seat, watching me. Then I saw her eyes go up to the upstairs window and her mouth formed a perfect circle of surprise.

  “What is it?” She didn’t answer right away. “Jan?”

  She shook her head, and then looked embarrassed, “I thought I saw...”

  “Saw what?”

  She shook her head again and got out of the vehicle. I walked around the corner of the house and looked to see if there was a back porch or patio, but there were just some steps. I headed for the barn about fifty yards away.

  As I walked, I noticed fresh tire tracks had compressed the ankle-length grass that had overgrown a two-track trail leading to the double barn doors.

  When I got to the barn, I tried to look in through the filthy glass windows in the sliding doors, and when I couldn’t see anything inside, I pushed the door over far enough to walk inside.

  The first thing I noticed as I walked in was that there was another set of barn doors on the end of the barn to my left, and the second thing was that there in the dust-streamed half-light of the barn was Miles Lawton’s sedan.

  I stepped to the car and opened the driver’s side door. There was no one in there; I was looking for any sign of violence, and found nothing.

  I walked to the second set of doors and saw that there was another two-track trail leading into the jack pine woods. I turned and walked back to the house expecting to find Jan sitting on the porch, but she wasn’t there. I looked into the Suburban, and when she wasn’t there, I headed for the house.

  I entered and quickly walked to the rear of the first floor looking in each room, a bath, a bedroom and the kitchen. I then noted a cellar door which was secured with a hook, and headed to the stairs to check the second floor. At the top of the stairs, I found Jan waiting for me.

  “Come with me, Jim.”

  I followed her to the front of the house and into a bedroom on the front left of the house. I nearly fell down when I found Betty Ralph sitting in her wheel chair at the window over looking the front yard.

  “Betty?”

  “Hello, Jim.” Her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, and I could hear tragic sadness in it.

  “What’s going on, Betty?”

  She looked back at the window, and I could see a tear tracing her high, pronounced cheeks. “Misery, that’s what’s happening here.”

  “Betty, who all is here?”

  “Everybody.”

  “Paul?” She nodded. “Tony?”

  “Oh, yes. And Mark, too.”

  “What ‘n hell is going on here? Where are M
iles and the deputy he came with?”

  She just shook her head, and then she said, “They just never forget, do they?”

  “Who’s they, Betty?”

  “Any of them,” and a sob erupted from her.

  I flipped open my phone and dialed Rick’s cell.

  “Sheriff here.”

  “Rick, this is Jim Stanton. We’re at Mark Decker’s place and Miles’ car is in the barn, empty. Mrs. Ralph is here; she’s unhurt, and she says Tony, Paul and Mark are all here as well.

  “I think you better bring some reinforcements, Sheriff. I’m leaving Jan here with Betty in the house. There’s a track leading off into the woods, and I’m going to follow it; I’ve got a bad feeling about this...”

  “I want you to sit tight with Jan. I’ll have people there as fast as I can. You sit tight.”

  “I won’t argue with you, sheriff, but I’m not sitting here while I could be saving my friend and your deputy. Just hurry.”

  I closed my phone. “I’m taking the Suburban. You have your weapon?”

  Jan was white-lipped, but she nodded.

  “Cops show up you go to them; anyone else shows up, you protect yourself.”

  “What’s going on, Jim?”

  “I have no idea, but I’ll bet you that’s a marl lake in that woods, and if so, I think we’ve found all of your missing classmates, and I’m not going to sit back while Miles joins them.”

  I heard the familiar steel in her voice, “We’ll be all right; go on.”

  CHAPTER 48

  I hurried to the Suburban, pulled my shotgun out of the case and loaded it before sliding behind the wheel and starting towards the barn.

  The trail split into two directions, north and south, after it entered the forest. I figured it would loop around the property’s perimeter. Both directions looked to have had recent use, so I took the northern route and hurried the big V-8 engine ahead.

  A quarter of a mile or so down the trail, it split again, and I veered left, figuring I was headed to the lake. I saw the water sparkling through the trees while I was still a long ways off. I stopped the vehicle, grabbed the shotgun and hurried towards the water.