Beech Mountain Breeze

by Ed Robinson

  I had seen no fox on our mountain, despite spending many hours in the woods. I didn’t even realize they lived around here. Now I knew that there was at least one of them roaming the countryside, which made me wonder about wolves and coyotes and more dangerous canines. I knew that coyotes lived everywhere in the state, but I hadn’t seen one of them either. I guessed that they exercised extreme caution around humans. They hadn’t been given the adjective wily for no reason. I wished I had my rifle instead of the pistol I was carrying.

  I found no trace of the hermit on the rest of my descent. Brody called on the radio to say she was waiting for me. I hung a left and moved towards the center of the valley, staying near the base of the hill we’d just come down. Within a few minutes, I spotted her. She had a wary stance, looking not only for me but for any of nature’s predators.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “I was starting to get freaked out. Thanks for the bear warning.”

  “I saw a fox up there,” I said. “But no bears.”

  “We bring some spray next time,” she said.

  “Did you find anything?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” she said. “There’s a hint of a trail through some tall grass back there.”

  “Deer maybe,” I said. “Let’s go take a look.”

  She led the way back a few hundred yards before pointing out what she’d seen. Sure enough, I could make out where someone, or something, had walked through a little clear meadow not too long ago.

  “Look for deer tracks,” I said. “Or moccasin imprints.”

  Whatever had pushed through the tall grass had barely disturbed it. It had taken a keen eye to notice. We tried to be gentle on our way through, so as not to leave evidence that we’d followed. I saw no deer tracks. Several times we stopped to investigate what may have been a footprint, but none of them were definitive. The grass acted as a cushion, keeping the foot from making much of an imprint in the earth underneath it. Maybe became the word of the day. The grass gave way to woods and rock. We didn’t find any more potential prints.

  We were at another crossroads. Which way did he go from here? I didn’t want to split up again and neither did Brody. I asked her to sit down and be quiet. I did the same. I tried to listen and smell, letting the woods tell me what it knew. I looked at the trees, deciding which way I would go if I was the hermit. I remained still as a stone long enough for Brody to get impatient. She gave me a look. The woods were keeping a secret. They had nothing to tell me concerning the hermit’s whereabouts.

  “Okay,” I said. “We’ve got a little time left. Let’s poke around some more.”

  “Would have been a good time to have Red with us,” she said. “If there’s something to smell on that trail through the grass he’d be on it.”

  “I can bring him back tomorrow if it doesn’t rain,” I said. “It’s worth a try, but if Red doesn’t pick up a scent he’ll become a handicap.”

  “Let him try,” she said. “If he doesn’t get onto something, bring him back to me. We don’t have a deadline to find this guy.”

  “I don’t want to drive him deeper into hiding,” I said. “He’s probably got a safe place for times of danger. Someplace impossible to find.”

  “Like Pop’s cave?” she asked. “Because you found that.”

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Quit selling yourself short,” she advised. “You’re assigning superpowers to a vagrant. He’s just a man.”

  We wandered around close to the wood’s edge, looking for any sign of a man. We didn’t find it, so we ventured a little further into the forest, staying within eyesight of each other. The underbrush got thicker and thicker. As we followed the path of least resistance, it funneled us to the banks of a small creek. There in the mud just above the water line, was a footprint. It had no tread marks, but it was clearly the mark of a shoe. I couldn’t believe our luck. We’d walked for miles, finding only what might have been a path through the grass. This was solid evidence. The print seemed to match what we’d seen previously. We were on the right track. Our hermit was in the area.

  Unfortunately, we’d found the print too late in the day. We had a good starting point for the next attempt. We were making progress. I made a waypoint on the GPS so we could take a direct route to that spot when we came back. We’d figure out where to park and how to get here later. I accepted Brody’s suggestion to give Red a shot at it too. In spite of my doubts, we were closing in on the hermit.

  We took a break to eat and drink before starting the long hike back. We didn’t have to return the same way we’d come. Using the GPS, we took the most direct route possible to the car. We paused briefly as the sun went down over Roan Mountain, recalling the many sunsets we’d enjoyed in Florida. It was mostly dark before we got to the car, but now we knew how long it would take to hike back to that little stream.

  “Our search area has been greatly reduced,” Brody said. “Not a bad day’s work.”

  “He’s across that stream,” I said. “And I’m betting not too far. It’s a source of water for him.”

  “Not as hard as you thought,” she said.

  “We haven’t found him yet,” I said. “But we are narrowing it down. Thanks for your help.”

  “Other than the bear threat,” she said. “I’m actually enjoying this.”

  “That’s awesome,” I said. “There’s something special about being out here. I never dreamed I would like it so much.”

  “I’m starting to see it too,” she said. “I took some time to appreciate my surroundings today. The scenery, the breathable air. It was nice.”

  “We’ll turn you into a mountain woman yet,” I said.

  “Getting there,” she said. “Trying to keep up with you.”

  Back at the cabin, we poured over the maps again, finding a place to enter the wilderness closer to that little stream. We had our waypoint on the GPS so we could make a beeline for it with Red in tow. I didn’t know if dogs were allowed in the wildlife area, but so far we hadn’t seen another human. I doubted it would be a problem. I gave him some of my steak after dinner to provide a little extra protein. It was time for him to join the team on this mission.

  The SAT phone rang before we could leave the next morning. It was Rominger with news from Beech Mountain.

  “The Chief has recused himself from the investigation,” he said. “Says he can’t participate.”

  “Why in the hell would that be?” I asked.

  “The person who was in that house is his son,” he said. “We have his fingerprints on file from a previous encounter. We swabbed him, and his DNA matches that taken from the beer can.”

  “What was he doing there?”

  “He says he just stopped for a little private time before going home from the resort,” he said. “He still lives with his parents.”

  “How old is he?”

  “A grown-ass thirty years old,” he said. “The homeowners say they never gave him a key and they didn’t leave one hidden. The extra key was hanging on a hook just inside the door. It’s there now.”

  “He could have swiped it and made a copy during an authorized visit,” I suggested. “Knowing that these folks would be gone for long periods of time. How thoroughly has he been questioned?”

  “We talked to him on the phone as soon as we identified him,” he said. “But he’s not at his folk’s place. We haven’t brought him in yet.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “Working on it,” he said.

  “If he was innocent he’d be talking,” I said. “Especially to his father.”

  “He might be talking to his dad,” he said. “But the dad ain’t talking to us.”

  “Can he do that?” I asked. “I mean legally.”

  “Technically, yes,” he said. “But it certainly clouds his job future.”

  “You say there’s a prior history with his son?”

  “Minor troubles that have always been kept quiet,” he said. “One of our guys got him on
a DUI. Played it by the rules and booked the kid, but his punishment was nothing. Didn’t even lose his license.”

  “He’s not learned the consequences of his actions,” I said.

  “Seems to be a recurring theme with young people these days,” he said. “He wasn’t evil or anything, but he always seemed a bit off.”

  “How so?”

  “Young men around here tend to drive pickup trucks, hunt deer, and chase girls,” he said. “This one drives a Subaru, plays video games and doesn’t have any friends.”

  “Didn’t go to college?”

  “Quit after his first year at App State,” he said. “Works at a smoke shop in Boone.”

  “Not exactly making daddy proud,” I said. “What’s his name?”

  “Zack,” he said. “We’ve sent his photo out to all concerned.”

  “Has anyone from the resort confirmed that he was there during the night in question?”

  “We haven’t been back there to question anyone yet,” he said.

  “The staff would know,” I said. “Bartenders, waitresses, even one of the Beech Mountain officers that might have been working security. Will they recuse themselves on the Chief’s behalf?”

  “They wouldn’t care to lie to other law enforcement personnel,” he said. “Regardless of how much they support their boss.”

  “You going to talk to them today?” I asked.

  “Actually, no,” he said. “Angelina Will is going up there. She’s the closest thing to an investigator Avery County has. I think she can get people to talk, especially the males.”

  “No doubt,” I said. “But I’ll be steering clear. Brody and I have been working our way deep into the bush out west of town. We may be onto something.”

  “If Zack is our guy you’re wasting your time,” he said. “But that’s on you.”

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “He was very close to Buckeye Lake during just the right timeframe. Won’t know if we don’t find him.”

  “My people are going back to the house to look much closer,” he said. “Our evidence people want a more thorough look. Blood residue, signs of a cleanup, anything attached to the girl.”

  “Good luck,” I said. “Let me know what you find.”

  “You too,” he said. “Keep us posted as well.”

  The involvement of the Chief’s son was certainly a twist I hadn’t seen coming. Learning that he’d experienced a certain privilege with law enforcement added a new dimension to the investigation. I knew a small town Chief when I was growing up that would ticket his mother if she was speeding, but I don’t think that’s the norm. What cop wouldn’t go easy on his own kid, or at least pull a few strings for leniency?

  That part of the riddle was out of my hands and wasn’t my area of expertise anyway, although Brody probably had more experience than most of the actual cops on the case. We were relegated to the woods. That’s where I could make a difference, assuming the hermit was somehow connected. Red was eager to give it a try, so we loaded him into the car and headed off for the Cherokee wilderness. We took bear spray with us this time, just in case.

  When we let Red out of the car, he had to run around and shoot a bunch of trees before we could get started. New turf always had to be marked. He’d been cooped up for the most part lately and was eager to run, but we kept him reigned in until we got well away from the parking area. It was a long hike to where we’d left off, and we humans had to conserve our energy.

  We used our GPS to find the creek with the footprint in the mud. I pointed it out to my hound dog. He didn’t know what I was trying to tell him. I got down low and put his nose near the print. I made sniffing noises. He put his nose right down in the mud and checked it out. He looked at me as if to say Sorry, man, but no dice. I motioned for him to circle the area and he dutifully obeyed. He tried, but there was no scent for him to follow.

  “Take him back to the tall grass,” Brody said. “Try over there.”

  I had him follow me to the faint trail that we’d found. He stopped twice along its length, investigating further with his nose, but didn’t hit on anything definitive. We ran out of grass, made a U-turn, and tried again. He paused at those same two spots briefly but moved on without getting too interested. He’d caught a slight whiff, but not enough to go chasing after. I had no way to tell him that I needed him to track that tiny smell. I took him back to the print in the mud and tried to get him to make the connection. If he was a person, he would have shrugged his shoulders and said okay, you’re the boss, but it ain’t enough to go on. He tried anyway. I led him across the skinny creek to the other side, and he started to sniff around. It took him a good fifteen minutes, but he let me know he wanted to give it a shot.

  “Go ahead, boy,” I said. “Find him. Sniff him out.”

  He moved much slower than he normally did. His nose was almost touching the ground as he swung his head from side to side, trying to concentrate the faint smell he was working with. He clearly understood what I was asking of him, and was trying hard against tough odds. Brody and I had time to look around due to the slow pace. We each kept an eye out for other types of clues that would help with our search. What we were following wasn’t so much a trail, but more a natural way of walking through the woods. It was now the easy route for anyone coming this way. The hermit had become less concerned about a tail at this point.

  Maybe that’s why we started finding more obvious footprints. They were widely scattered, but they told us that Red was going in the right direction. Brody and I whispered between ourselves, waiting for Red to grow more confident and take off with earnest after his target. It didn’t happen. He wasn’t getting a stronger scent. He wasn’t any more positive of his direction. He kept his slow, nose-down pace and plodded ahead. It was nerve-wracking for us. We were obviously onto to something, but Red was reluctant. It wasn’t a sure thing to him. I had no choice but to follow his lead. I’d brought the dog to do his job, I couldn’t second-guess him now.

  Then we came to a literal fork in the road. There were two obvious paths into thick cover. Red stopped. He didn’t know which path to take. I urged him on. He took the trail to the left for twenty or thirty yards but came back to the fork. He tried the other way. He came back again.

  I’m sorry, I got nothing either way.

  Ten

  We each had bear spray and a weapon. We had our radios. We had to split up. I took Red further down the right-hand fork while Brody went to the left. At some points, the trail turned into a tunnel as the vegetation closed in over my head. It would be a good place to have a secret wilderness hideout. Finding it was another matter. I looked for a sign that would show me that the hermit had left the trail and dug deeper into the brush, but the path continued forward unbroken.

  Red was constantly trying to regain the scent, but so far hadn’t found it. The ceiling got lower and lower until I was forced to crawl. I sent Red in ahead of me. The low tunnel came to a dead-end. I couldn’t understand it. The man had to have gone somewhere. He wouldn’t create a dead-end just to throw off his pursuer, would he?

  I called Brody on the radio to see if she was having better luck.

  “The path has turned into a low tunnel,” she reported. “I don’t want to crawl in there.”

  “Same thing here,” I said. “Ours is a dead-end.”

  “Bring the dog over here,” she suggested.

  “On our way,” I answered.

  Red and I backtracked to the fork and went in after Brody. We found her down on the ground, shining a small flashlight into the tunnel.

  “It’s just big enough for a person to crawl through,” she said. “I can’t see the other end of it.”

  Again, I sent Red ahead of me. I followed him on my hands and knees until we came to another dead-end. When we ran out of tunnel, Red was anxious. He whined and sniffed and turned in circles with his nose down.

  “You got something, buddy?” I asked the dog.

  He looked at me with a maybe expression.
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br />   “Sniff him out, boy,” I said. “Find him.”

  My dog was determined, but he couldn’t be sure he had the scent. He sniffed every square inch around the end of the tunnel before coming back towards me. He continued smelling the ground and the brush on either side. I watched, and waited until he disappeared into the undergrowth.

  “He’s after something,” I told Brody. “I’m going in with him.”

  “Be careful, Breeze,” she said. “Keep that radio on.”

  Between two groups of thick immovable branches was a void filled with tall weeds. The weeds acted as a curtain, disguising the entrance to a side tunnel. Red had the scent now, I was sure of it. Soon I was able to stand. Red gave me a single bark and slipped through another curtain. On the other side was an off-grid survivalist’s dream camp. The dog was sniffing all over the place.

  “Easy, boy,” I told him. “You found it. Good boy.”

  We had found the camp but not the man. Red wanted to keep going, but I made him sit while I took a look around.

  “Found a camp in here,” I told Brody. “I can come back for you if you want.”

  “I didn’t see where you went in,” she said. “Come back for me.”

  I looked at Red and told him to stay.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told him. “Sit still for me.”

  I crawled back through the double curtains to the tunnel and hailed Brody. She crawled towards me with her little light shining. She wasn’t fond of spiders and snakes and looked none too pleased to be in this particular situation, but that didn’t stop her. When we got back to the camp, Red was gone.

  “Shit,” I exclaimed.

  “Why didn’t you tie him up?” Brody asked.