Banner Elk Breeze

by Ed Robinson

  We had the bullet. It was in a zip lock bag along with a pair of boiled tweezers. The next step was to deliver it to the FBI in D.C. No way I was putting it in the mail or sending it via FedEx. We’d have to make the drive and deliver it in person. I hated Washington and everything about it, but we had no other option. I also had to accept the fact that Brody’s ex had agreed to help us, for reasons I didn’t quite understand. I knew he wouldn’t help me if I was alone. I’d have to be careful about his interest in my girl. She was everything to me these days. There was a time, not so long ago, that my old trawler was the only thing I cared about in life. It took precedent over lovers more than once. It was my life and my love. That old boat had taken care of me through thick and thin. We’d shared so many fantastic experiences. When we were underway, we were one. I spoke to her, and she spoke back. Some really fantastic women had played second fiddle to her. I was to blame for that, but that’s the way it was. I couldn’t imagine a woman ever being more important than that old boat until Brody came along. I’d been a broken soul. My capacity to love was limited. Before Brody, the boat always came first. I didn’t have enough to give to support a real and intimate relationship too.

  That all changed, but not overnight. Brody was a good sport living the minimalistic life with me. She didn’t complain, but eventually, she started hinting at wanting something more. We went back and forth over the idea of buying a nicer, newer boat. I resisted, of course. We went and looked at several candidates. She loved them all, but I always found some reason why they weren’t good enough to replace what we already had. She kept her patience with me. It was in my mind that buying a better boat was a betrayal to Leap of Faith. I affectionately called her Miss Leap. When the idea of a cabin in the woods popped into my mind, it seemed like a reasonable compromise. Miss Leap would understand if we bought a house. She wouldn’t be happy if we bought a better boat.

  That’s how we ended up in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. The move couldn’t have worked out better or come at a better time. I saw us living out our lives there in loving solitude. Brody had her nicer accommodations, better than any old boat. I’d made what for me was the ultimate sacrifice in order to make her happy, but I was happy too. I loved our new cabin. I loved the mountain and the woods. Things couldn’t have been better, except for Banner.

  FBI Headquarters was four-hundred miles away from our idyllic cabin in the woods. It was a thousand light-years from the life that we’d been living. The drive took us six and a half hours. I didn’t like the feel of the place. The last time we were here, the director himself, Chris Wray, ordered Brody to return to duty. She had a clear choice, a respectable career that she’d always wanted, or me. She chose me. I couldn’t have blamed her if she chose to return to the Bureau. Actually, I was surprised by her decision.

  Director Wray and his associates were not happy with her decision. She had damaging information that they didn’t trust her with. We didn’t give a shit about the politics or the current climate in Washington. We just wanted to be left alone. Brody’s ex-lover was a new element to the situation. He wasn’t involved in our previous escapade with the FBI. I wasn’t thrilled about working with him, but it was all we had. Bringing them evidence that we’d collected was all sorts of out of bounds. If he wanted to put himself out on a limb on our behalf, I had to accept his help, even though it put him and Brody into close proximity.

  I couldn’t ignore his motive to get closer to her, but I hoped to use him to further my cause. I had to be secure in my relationship with Brody to pull it off. His affinity for her could work to our advantage, or I could lose everything I’d gained by making her happy. I told myself our relationship was safe. I couldn’t believe anything else. We trusted each other. Now was not the time to break that agreement.

  Twelve

  We checked into a hotel and made arrangements to meet Bowdich the following day. The meeting took place in the lobby of another hotel a few blocks away. The FBI honcho was accompanied by a junior staffer, who took our evidence bag and left immediately.

  “I assume you’ve looked into our suspect since we last talked,” Brody said. “Tell us what you’ve learned.”

  “His Army file suggests borderline psychopath,” he said. “As a civilian, he’s nothing more than a lowlife with a few minor infractions.”

  “He’s got plenty of protection from the law,” she said. “Father and grandfather sit in high places.”

  “I was just picking up hints of that,” he said. “None of it has come to the attention of the Bureau. Not on our radar.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d delve a little deeper into Senator Banner’s history,” she said. “We’ve heard the term Mountain Mafia.”

  “New one on me,” he said. “But sure, I’ll poke around a bit.”

  “What else about Cody?” she asked.

  “Here’s the file,” he said, handing her a manila envelope. Address, date of birth, last known place of employment, prior arrests and convictions. Just a hillbilly struggling to get by. Blows off steam now and then.”

  “He’s a cold-blooded killer,” I said. “I’ve got the photos and the bullet to prove it.”

  “But local law enforcement couldn’t care less,” said Brody. “We got a rather stern warning about sticking our nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “From the law?” he asked.

  “Indirectly,” she said. “The Banner Elk Police Chief sent an envoy, off the record. He wasn’t threatening in the least, just filled us in on what we’re up against.”

  “The Watauga County Sheriff threw us out of his office,” I added.

  “The two of you think you know what happened, but no one will look into your allegations,” he said. “Even with pictures and the bullet.”

  “They wouldn’t look for the bullet nor take it from us if we found it,” I said. “Not one member of law enforcement has gone up that mountain to sniff around.”

  “The pot plants still grow?”

  “I’ve got Banner on camera watering them,” I said. “I know for a fact that he didn’t plant them. The man he killed planted them.”

  “I can see why you’re frustrated,” he said. “I’m not sure how I can help from here.”

  “Get the DNA results from the bullet,” said Brody. “You’ll need to match them with Pop Sutton and Cody Banner.”

  “We’ve got Banner’s from his Army stint,” he said. “What happened to the victim’s body?”

  “Watauga County Morgue,” I said. “That’s all we know. He does have a sister somewhere in the area though. She may know.”

  “I’ll track down the sister and try to find the body,” he said. “Give me some valid reason why we should step in on this case.”

  “Run Banner’s DNA through the various databases,” she said. “There’s a chance he’s killed before but it’s an unsolved case. Might be all you need.”

  “Excellent idea,” Bowdich said. “You’d make a great agent.”

  “I’m still a great agent,” she said. “So is Breeze. We’re helping you solve a cold case maybe. Now help us solve ours.”

  There was nothing further to say. Bowdich seemed impressed with what we’d done so far, maybe enough to do some extra digging into the nonsense that was going on in western North Carolina with Senator Banner. Brody’s idea that Cody’s DNA may be floating around the databases in an unsolved case was brilliant, though probably a longshot. We spent another night at the hotel before driving back to the cabin.

  Banner worked at a lumber mill in Roan Mountain. The pay was poor, hence the ratty trailer and rusty truck. The hunting camp was owned by the Senator and included close to a hundred acres of land. Pop’s pot farm was not on the Banner property, nor mine. It was in No-Man’s-Land like Pop had said. There was a lot of land in the region that really wasn’t owned by anyone. Some of that had been claimed by the state for parks and conservation, but not on McGuire Mountain. Pop’s claim to his plot of earth was as good as anyone’s.
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br />   I decided that making myself into a deer hunter was the way to get to Banner. I studied the boundaries of my plot of land. I decided to build a deer stand as close to Banner’s property as I could, somewhere along his path to the pot farm. He’d have to check it out. He’d want to know who built it. He’d want to know who else was up there hunting. I’d run into him or he’d come to me sooner or later. I didn’t know much about building deer stands, but how hard could it be? I’d already mastered the art of ladder building. I decided I could use that ladder for another stand, closer to the weed.

  Brody and I loaded up with tools and weapons and headed up the mountain first thing in the morning. It was a lot to carry. We were in no particular hurry so we stopped and rested whenever we felt the need. We didn’t attempt to maintain sound discipline on the way up. We didn’t care if we were heard. We were out building tree stands in preparation for the upcoming hunting season. We did stay aware. We listened intently to the woods. Half a mile below the pot farm, we took a new route over towards the Banner property. The undergrowth was thick, almost impassable. I longed for a machete. We found a small clearing that overlooked the obvious trail that Banner took to the weed. It was well within our own property. There was no reason we couldn’t put up a stand there. It would piss Banner off to see a stand so close to his property though.

  We got to work cutting branches down, trimming them, and chopping them into stair-sized pieces. We nailed them to a tree trunk until we could climb to the first set of branches. We laid longer pieces from branch to branch and nailed them into place. Our work formed a small platform that was sturdy enough to stand or sit on. It was roughly fifteen feet above the ground. It provided a nice view in all directions, but most of the surrounding terrain was too thick to see through. When the leaves all fell in another month, it would provide a much better view.

  The first one went up pretty fast. We had time to backtrack and head towards where we’d hidden the ladder. I dragged it even further down the hill and away from the weed farm. We propped it up against a giant oak and drove a few nails through it to secure it in place. It didn’t come close to reaching the lowest limbs of the tree. We cut some more ladder rung pieces and I went back up to nail them to the trunk above the ladder. I managed to create steps to the first low limbs. Again we built a small platform in the elbow of the limbs. It was really high up, probably too high, but it gave me a clear view of the weed plants, while still offering some concealment. I could climb up there with my rifle and see everything that was going on at the pot farm.

  The work wore us out and we still had to climb back down the mountain, so we packed up our gear and began the descent.

  “You okay?” I asked Brody.

  “Just tired,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

  We stopped half-way down to rest.

  “You want to go deer hunting?” I asked. “We’ve got two stands.”

  “I was never into killing innocent animals,” she said. “Deer are so pretty.”

  “And tasty,” I said. “But I haven’t hunted since I was maybe twenty. Never felt the need. I was raised to hunt. All my friends were avid hunters. I stayed home and accepted some venison whenever it was offered. Ducks and geese too.”

  “If you are going to try to get in tight with Banner, you’re probably going to have to kill a deer or two.”

  “No doubt,” I said. “I’m trying to remember the last time I field dressed a deer.”

  “Might want to brush up on that if you want to pass for a hunter,” she said.

  “I remember watching my dad the first time,” I said. “Grossed me out, but I was just a boy.”

  “Did you have a good relationship with your father?”

  “I loved my dad,” I said. “He was a great role model for me, but hard to follow.”

  “How so?”

  “He was bigger than life,” I said. “Had everyone’s respect. A man’s man. He was tough as nails but everyone loved him. Military, law enforcement, discipline. I had my rebellious stage. I didn’t want to only be my father’s son. I wanted to make my own way, but I’m still proud to have had him as my dad. He taught me to be a man without causing me to turn on him. I just had to learn to deal with his legacy.”

  “Sounds like a father to be proud of.”

  “I miss him sometimes,” I admitted. “You would’ve liked him. He would’ve liked you.”

  “Neither of your parents are alive are they?”

  “Nope,” I said. “Lost my sister too.”

  “You’ve always got me,” she said.

  “And I’m grateful for that,” I said. “You ready?”

  “Let’s get home.”

  Back at the cabin, we turned on the TV to learn about Hurricane Florence. The Category Four storm was headed directly for North Carolina. We were a long way from the coast and high up in the mountains so I wasn’t worried but figured we better keep an eye on things as they developed. I pitied the people on the coast.

  One year prior, we’d had a battle with Hurricane Irma. We worked hard to prepare out boat and anchor it as safely as possible. We’d intended to stay in a condo nearby until a mandatory evacuation order was issued. We fled north but couldn’t find a hotel that wasn’t full until we reached Charleston, South Carolina. Remnants of the storm ended up flooding that city and knocking out power. We lived like refugees for three days until we could escape and return to Florida. Both trips, up and back, were chaotic and miserable. We found our boat still floating and breathed a sigh of relief. It took weeks to get her back in shape afterward. I didn’t want to deal with another hurricane. Moving to the mountains was supposed to keep us far removed from them.

  We still had several days to prepare for the worst. We started watching the Weather Channel. It looked like our real concern would be excessive rainfall. We’d probably lose power, but we had a generator and enough fuel to last for a few days. I walked the property with an eye on the creek and how high it might get. There was no way its waters could get into the house, but they might reach the garage underneath. There was a big culvert under the road coming in that looked vulnerable to flood conditions. If it washed out we’d be stuck at the cabin until it could be fixed.

  We took stock of our supplies and decided to load up on necessities. We still didn’t know if the storm would impact us or not, but we wanted to be ready if it did. We didn’t want to wait until the last minute when things like water and food staples would be sold out at the local stores. I grabbed some extra toilet paper while we were shopping too.

  Over the next few days, the forecasters all came into agreement as to the track of the storm. The center of the cone of death was Wilmington, North Carolina. There was talk of it coming ashore as a Cat Four and stalling inland, dumping ridiculous amounts of rain over several days. We seemed to be on the outer edge of that scenario. We’d still get a lot of rain, but no storm force winds. I kept surveying our property to see where all that water might go. The laws of nature and physics told me that it had to continue down the mountain. I didn’t think the creek would bother the cabin.

  I started making scouting trips prior to the opening of deer season. I found new ground that I hadn’t traveled before. I’d always just headed straight for Pop’s old hangout since the day I’d met him. I rarely saw a deer while moving through the woods. If I sat still for a decent amount of time, they’d come to me. I didn’t sit in the deer stands. I wanted to avoid tainting them with my scent. I wanted them to blend in with the natural landscape. They’d be there when I needed them.

  I saw doe after doe on my excursions. The mountain was full of them. If we ever really needed the meat, it would be no trouble to take a female deer. To prove my abilities to Banner, I’d need to take down a big buck, but I just wasn’t seeing them. I told myself that when the Rut began, the bucks would come for the females. Meanwhile, I identified known routes of travel and grazing spots for the deer that were already there.

  Down the mountain at the cabin, they came to my apple
trees almost every day. The trees were heavy with fruit and dropped plenty of snacks to the ground to provide the deer with easy pickings. I vaguely remembered some old farmer’s belief that a heavy fruit crop was a sign of a cold winter. Down in Banner Elk, they looked to the wooly worm to determine the winter forecast. Brody wanted to go to the Wooly Worm Festival in October.

  I was really getting to know my turf. The rock and wood that surrounded me felt as much like home as the sand and water had before. I enjoyed taking it all in. I’d sit quietly, waiting for a deer, and allow the sights and sounds to embrace me. I always heard the deer before I saw it, without fail. I tried to smell them coming, but they smelled like the woods. If I concealed myself well, they would get within a few yards of me without being spooked. I felt as comfortable in the woods as the deer themselves. If it wasn’t for our sweet little cabin and Brody, I would have set up a shelter and sleep up there.

  That thought made me want to search for Pop’s shelter. If I could find it, I could use it as a base of operations for overnight trips. I might learn more about how the man survived his harsh mountain environment, or about the man himself. It was too late that day to search for it, but I vowed to find it soon. Besides, it was always great to return home to Brody. She had dinner cooking when I got back. She looked radiant in jeans and a flannel shirt. I could still picture her in a bikini on a beach in Florida. We’d come a long way and made a major change, but it agreed with us both.

  “I’m going to find Pop’s shelter,” I told her.

  “Any particular reason?” she asked.

  “I have the distinct feeling that however this ends with Banner, it’s going to happen up there,” I said. “I need to be better on the mountain than him. Pop was the master of the mountain. I can learn some things.”

  “You plan to spend nights up there?”

  “A few, when the time comes,” I said. “I’ve got to find it first.”

  “Can I help you look?”