Maiden's Peak

by Kristy E. Carter

  "Tired?" I asked as I stuffed my hands in my pockets. I tried to think about how this would appear from his side. I’d probably be protective of my family in his place.

  He sighed. "I'm fine."

  I looked around and saw a band poster. "On the road a lot?" I asked conversationally, walking over to the promotion poster.

  "Some..." he replied with a vaguely defensive tone.

  Turning back around, I noted that he was looking at me suspiciously. "What?"

  "Oliver seemed to think you were here to write up some sort of bullshit article on my band. Tell me he wasn’t right." Thorn did sound tired, I realized. He actually sounded downright weary.

  "He's not. I mean, I didn't even know you were in a band until just now," I said quickly. "No offense...but you sound like you need a vacation."

  Thorn nodded. "That's why I'm here. Came home to recharge. If you’re done with questions for Mom, I'll take you home as soon as your clothes get dry."

  "Thanks. I think I might have a few more for her. Truthfully, I'd like to know what everyone's take on the disappearances was, including yours," I said, trying to keep my voice very professional.

  He took a deep breath. "My grandmother gave a reading to that woman before she went missing. She told me about it because she said I had the wise blood in me." He looked older in the light, and I wondered for the first time how old he really was.

  He continued softly, "She said she saw that woman die up on Maiden's Peak. She begged her not to go, but the woman didn’t listen. John was a friend of my father's, and my grandmother asked him to go after her. The next day, they disappeared. Grams tried to get the authorities to go to Maiden's Peak, and my father tried to as well." He shook his head. "They finally went, but with the new snow that had fallen, they didn't find anything, of course."

  I sat there dumbfounded. "Maiden's Peak," I murmured.

  "Yeah," he said, mimicking my tone.

  I let out a breath that I wasn’t aware I’d been holding. "So, do you still want to go up there tomorrow?"

  "Yes," Thorn said honestly.

  I nodded. "I can't believe the authorities just dropped the case!"

  "Not all of them did. Eventually, one by one, people just gave up—or were dissuaded, shall we say, from investigating by the people in charge."

  "Is that what happened to your dad?" I asked as I braced for the defensive wall I'd seen in him before.

  He merely stared at me before he finally spoke. "I don't know. My mother said to let it go. She said it was an accident, but I find it difficult to think that a man who worked with saws every day sawed his own hand off and bled to death, Mr. Shelton." I could feel the anger underneath his words.

  I cringed. "I'm sorry, and please...call me Victor."

  "I'd rather not. Make no mistake, Mr. Shelton, I'm not your friend. I'm only interested in the fact that you seem intent on finding out what happened. To that extent, I'll help you as much as I can."

  I nodded and now felt extremely uncomfortable.

  "Come on; let's see if Mom and Oliver are still around so you can get done with your interviews before the roads are impassable," Thorn suggested. I followed him back out but spared the band poster one last glance before I shut the door behind me.

  We found Oliver and Mrs. Durant in the living room, talking quietly. When we entered, Oliver gave me a nod and a smile. "Mr. Shelton wants to ask you and Oliver some more questions," Thorn said to his mother as he sank into one of the armchairs beside the fire. The two Durants seated on the couch turned toward me with interest as I sat down in the other armchair.

  I nodded and took out my phone so I could turn on the record feature. I laid the device on the chair arm and said, "Forgive the phone; I have a bad memory sometimes. Mrs. Durant, how’d your husband take the authorities’ inability to find anything?"

  Mrs. Durant wrung her hands and sighed. "He went to the council and demanded they check the mines and caves. A few years after the disappearances, some teenagers claimed they’d seen Caroline's body in the mines. Gabriel demanded that the authorities send parties in to search the mines, which were in the process of closing down by that time." She shook her head. "They went, but they didn't find anything. Gabriel insisted he was going to check them himself. But I begged him not to. The mines were so dangerous. That's why they were closing, you see."

  "Did he go?" I asked gently. The woman was holding it all together well enough, but I could see the grief there below the surface and maybe just a touch of guilt.

  She nodded. "Gabriel didn’t find anything that he told me of. It wasn't long after that that he died." Her voice broke a bit on the last word, and I saw Oliver's arm go around the woman's trembling shoulders.

  "I'm sorry for bringing up such a painful thing, Mrs. Durant," I said sincerely. "Oliver, if I could just ask you what you thought of the disappearances, then I'll take my leave."

  The plump man kept his arm around his mother's shoulders. "We were kids, Mr. Shelton. We were told precious little, but it was easy enough to hear what was going on when the adults thought we weren't listening. I always thought that there had been foul play of some kind. It seemed so unlikely. John was not a ladies’ man, and he never struck me as someone who would just pick up and leave with no word. I believe that the police covered up what happened."

  "Why would they do that?" I asked with invested curiosity.

  Oliver shook his head. "That I don’t know. I've actually tried to get a hold of the original case files, but they seem to have been misplaced, conveniently enough. From what Shirley said, you've seen the files that we have on it. Not exactly an airtight case, yeah?"

  I nodded. "Yeah, I thought it a bit odd the way the foul-play angle was written off with the unreliability of the eyewitness accounts."

  Mrs. Durant watched us, and I sensed worry behind her tense expression. Thorn, however, looked perfectly unmoved by our conversation. Mrs. Durant ended the conversation by saying, "Mr. Shelton, I hate to cut this short, but I wouldn't like to think of you getting stranded up here. The snow appears to be coming down quite heavily." She indicated the window with her slim fingers and I, too, noticed the flakes floating down thickly outside.

  "Yes, I think it might be a good time to seek my room at the bed and breakfast. Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Durant." I stood up and realized that I still needed to change.

  Oliver was up the next moment and said, "I'll just go check your clothes," before he hurried out of the room. Thorn excused himself to go upstairs, and Mrs. Durant gave me a polite smile. Oliver called me over to the laundry room, indicating that I could change in there if I wished.

  Once I was back into my own clothing, I revisited the living room. Oliver and Thorn drove me back to the Mortons' bed and breakfast, where I set about getting ready for the interview with Mr. Marion. I took a quick shower and changed clothes.

  As I walked out the door to my room, I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. This man had lost his wife, and I had to approach him gently. I felt a great deal of sympathy for him. To lose someone you love in such an ambiguous way must have tormented him. I could not imagine going years without knowing what had happened to a person I loved.

  The evening was cold and clear. The light from Dotty's Kitchen spilled out onto the leftover snow from earlier in the day. I cradled my bowl of chili, warming my fingers. Mr. Marion had insisted that we eat before we talked business.

  The man was in his mid-sixties and had graying curly locks that hung around his forehead. He was soft-spoken, and I was immediately put at ease. I felt like I’d known him for a long time, although we had just met. There was something familiar about him that I couldn’t quite place. He said he got that a lot. Apparently, he had one of those faces.

  "So, what is it you wanted to know about Caroline, Mr. Shelton?" Mr. Marion asked as he put down his spoon and took a sip of the tea next to his bowl.

  "Anything, really. I've only just started investigating, so any direction you can point me in wi
ll be helpful." I wiped my mouth self-consciously with the napkin and asked, "Did Caroline have any reason to come here?"

  "No. Her family all live in Florida, and I never knew anyone from here. We live a state away." His voice held an edge of sadness, which made me wonder how often he’d thought about that and repeated the same thing to people who asked about the case. I felt a twinge of guilt.

  "I'm sorry to bring up such an unpleasant memory..." I said again.

  He waved off my concern. "I'm always grateful when someone takes the time to look into the case. Caroline deserved more than what was done to find her."

  "Were you here during the original investigation?" I asked.

  He nodded absentmindedly. "I got here as soon as I could. The police said that it was a matter for a private investigator and that they could not allocate any more manpower to the search since they had decided she’d run off with that mechanic."

  "You don't believe that she and John ran away together?" Truthfully, I didn’t know whether I believed it, and I didn’t even know Caroline.

  "Caroline would never do that. We were happy, Mr. Shelton. Caroline and I had a deep connection that’s hard to explain." His hands trembled a bit as he fidgeted with his napkin.

  "What do you think happened to Caroline?" I asked softly.

  Mr. Marion sighed. "I don't know. That psychic said she died on the mountain, but the police said they searched it." I knew he was referring to Thorn's grandmother and nodded for him to continue. "I went to see her, and she told me to go see her son, Gabriel Durant. Gabriel helped me for a time. Then he...well...he passed away."

  "I heard about that," I replied. "So, you two worked together?"

  "Oh, yes. Mr. Durant was a good man. I feel horrible for his family. I never could face them after Gabriel died."

  His words made me curious, and I followed the whim of it. "Why couldn't you face his family?"

  The man stared at me for a moment, then he covered his face. It took me a moment to realize that he was crying. I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. he patted my hand and said, "You’re a kind man, Mr. Shelton." He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. "Forgive me."

  "Nothing to apologize for," I assured him.

  "I never could face his family because I felt responsible for Gabriel's death. If he hadn’t been helping me, then maybe they wouldn't have..." His voice broke again, and the man wiped his eyes on the napkin in his hand. "Sorry. It's been a long day."

  "Of course," I said, even though I was more curious than ever. "Could we talk again sometime?"

  He assured me, "Certainly."

  The man looked so weak and weary that I told him I’d contact him and set up a time at a later date. As we left to go to our respective beds, I sighed as I wondered where this journey would end.

  THREE

  That night, a new nightmare tormented me. I saw dark, deep caves. I saw Maiden's Peak high overhead and heard a faint melodic sound. I woke with a fine sweat all over me despite the chill of the night.

  The next morning, I sat cradling a large coffee from the corner store when Thorn's gray Dodge pulled up to the curb. I had remembered boots, a warm parka, and gloves this time. I opened the door feeling haunted from the night's restless sleep.

  Thorn had his long green duster on, gloves, and a soft black cap pulled over his head. I quickly climbed into the passenger seat, and he turned onto the street to head back up the mountain. He did not look to be in a talkative mood, and that was just as well; I sipped my coffee and let my mind run back over the images from last night that I could piece together.

  The mountain roads were passable, but barely. I was glad I’d finished my hot coffee before we got to the rough upper roads. Unfortunately, no one maintained them, as most of the hikers had stopped coming after the disappearances.

  "Why doesn't anyone come here anymore? The mountains are beautiful," I remarked as I looked out the window.

  Thorn replied, "Well, it wasn't just the disappearances. Bear in mind, I was young then, but from what I was told, there were lots of accidents and deaths on the mountain. The mayor wanted the trails open, but more and more people wanted them closed. The disappearances were the last straw, and eventually, people stopped coming as word got out about the risks."

  "I see," I said. Something feels off... I kept it to myself and looked back out the window, wondering again about the Durants and their fortune-telling grandmother.

  I glanced over at the young man, who was occupied with driving. Despite the fact that he wasn’t my friend, I had this urge to tell him the truth about the reason I was here. He definitely didn’t have to help me, and it seemed wrong to keep it from him. Yet what if I told him and then he refused to help me further because of it? "Let me ask you something, Mr. Durant."

  Thorn grunted, and I took it to be an affirmation as he shifted gears.

  "Can you tell fortunes, too?" I inquired seriously.

  He looked at me, and then he did something that I hadn’t seen him do before. He smiled—a genuine one. "Why? Something you want to tell me?"

  I cringed and looked back out the window. "What if I told you that the reason I came here originally was a dream I had?"

  He appeared unfazed, pulling the truck off the desolate road and putting it in park. "I'd say that makes two of us."

  My eyes widened. "You’re having dreams—I mean, about here?"

  He nodded. "Started while the band and I were playing a little place in Texas. I got the feeling I needed to come home. Looks like just this once, I was right."

  I shook my head. "I started having dreams about this place two months back or so. I couldn't really remember all of them at first. I only knew I needed to be here." I shifted uncomfortably in the seat. "My family also has some wise blood in us. I have to tell you, though, that I didn’t come here regarding the past. My dreams are never about the past—or haven't been before, anyway."

  He simply shrugged. "Let's go take a look and see what we can see, shall we?"

  I assented with a nod. We got out of the truck and made our way through the deep drifts of snow. I kept thinking about the dark chasm opening under me. I glanced at Thorn, and he seemed to know where he was going. We walked up to the Maiden's Peak trailhead, looking around. "Where are the caves?"

  He swept his hand toward the base of the mountain peak. "Under our feet! There are entrances scattered under the snow, but if you want one that you don't need to stumble into…" I cringed, hoping he didn't see it. "You'll probably want Singer Cave or the Devil's Cauldron. Most of the caves up here are hard to find when it has snowed."

  "Yeah, I can see how they would be," I said as we trudged up the Maiden's Peak trail. "Why is it called Singer Cave?"

  "A Native American legend said that when braves entered it, they’d hear a song and then disappear." He was now walking in front of me due to the narrow nature of the trail. "The legend, mind you, was around long before the area was settled by Anglo-Saxon miners hoping to strike their fortune."

  "Have you ever been in the cave?" I asked curiously.

  "Just when I was younger. As I said, it’s not always accessible...and my mother didn’t approve of us coming up here after my father passed away."

  We walked in silence after that, only stopping a couple times; by midday, we were close to the top of the peak. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, we admired the view across the mountain valleys. But we did not stay long, as it would truly be a long trip back down.

  When we reached the trailhead, Thorn pointed off to the southeast. "If I remember correctly, Singer Cave is in that direction..."

  "Think we have time to get there before dark?" I asked as I sipped some water out of a canteen that Thorn had brought with him. He waved his hand in a maybe gesture, indicating that it might be a possibility. My time in the town was growing short, but I didn’t want to put anyone else on the line for that. "I'd hate to get us stuck out here unprepared."

  Thorn chuckled, starting off toward his truck. When we reac
hed the Dodge, he opened the back gate and tossed me a small pack. In it, I found a flashlight, glow sticks, various tools, and a spare thermos. "My dad and I spent a lot of time on the mountain before he died," Thorn said, as if that explained everything. "Come on." He slung his pack over his shoulder and trudged off through the snow.

  I followed his example, and soon we were entering the tree line. It took a lot less time than I’d anticipated getting to the cave, but the afternoon was still wearing thin. The winter days were short, after all.

  We stood outside an unassuming opening that was barely a foot across. "It's actually wider, but with the snow, it all but disappears," Thorn explained as he began clearing some of the newly fallen snow. I quickly set about helping him.

  Before long, we had an opening that we could comfortably get through with our packs on. Thorn clicked his flashlight on, slipping inside the opening. I took a deep breath and did the same, following into a chamber lit by Thorn's flashlight beam. It appeared to be rather roomy. I stood up with no trouble and shined my flashlight up to see the ceiling a couple feet above my head.

  As we scoured the chamber, we spotted nothing out of the ordinary. This whole place made my dream feel close in my mind, and I shivered, but it had little to do with the cold.

  Thorn motioned toward an opening at the back, and we moved through the cave formations carefully. The opening was large enough for us to walk through one at a time.

  In the next chamber, I spotted a glint in a far corner. Thorn said it was probably something left by local kids, but we checked it anyway. It ended up being a cigarette lighter, which I dropped back where I had found it. The chamber was massive; we separated and walked around its perimeter.

  Thorn shouted over to me, and I made my way as quickly as I could through the darkness over to see what he’d found. He held a piece of paper in the flashlight beam. The words were cut off, so I couldn’t quite tell what it said. "Not much of a clue, but that writing looks familiar," I said, and then I explained the paper that had blown in front of me on the street.