Forbidden Entry (25 page)

“I'm not surprised,” he said, lifting one shoulder. “We call them dead zones. You can be in the same place one day and have it work fine and then depending on weather conditions and other factors, not the next. It's a crap shoot.”

“I see. So, you drove down the hill and that's when you met up with Linda?”

“No. That was later. I felt it was my duty to check things out for myself first. It took me awhile to get the chains on the truck and even then the road was difficult to navigate because of the ice sheet beneath the snow. It was a challenge to keep from sliding over the edge, believe me. I kept hoping that maybe Harvel was mistaken and they were still alive, but when I got here…well, it was not a pretty sight.”

I could only imagine. He glanced over at me fleetingly, his downward sloping eyes giving him a perpetually melancholy expression. “I guess the only good thing you can say is that they didn't suffer at the end like a lot of people do.”

The grave undertone in his voice convinced me that he was probably referring to his mother's battle with cancer. “I certainly hope that was the case.”

“This is as far as we can go,” he announced, slowing to a stop. “You ready to hike?”

I looked up at the swiftly darkening sky and saw that it was beginning to spit rain. “Looks like we're going to get wet.”

“And muddy.” He opened the door and the sudden blast of icy air chilled me. I buttoned the collar of my coat, tucked my hair beneath the stocking cap and pulled the hood over my head. No turning back now. Rain spattering on us, we trudged through the mud, uphill, downhill and sloshed through puddles. The rain eventually turned to sleet and the wind whistled eerily through the pines. We descended into a particularly dark ravine and he put up a hand. “This is it.”

With thunder rumbling overhead and sleet now coming down so hard that photos were impossible, I just stood there with my shoulders hunched, absorbing the forlorn scene. It was easy to surmise how the young couple had gotten stranded in this deep gulch and again, Burton Carr had been correct. At this point in time, there was no evidence that anyone or anything had ever been here. If there were tire tracks, I couldn't discern them. Nothing remained except the sorrowful aura of death. Saddened, I thought how unfair it was that their young lives had been snuffed out so soon and in such a tragic fashion. But now that I knew more about Nathan's foolhardy exploits, it seemed plausible that he'd made a hasty and reckless decision to tackle this road in bad weather, fully aware that entry was prohibited, but willing to risk the consequences. And he had paid dearly for it. Poor Jenessa. Her attraction to his adventurous lifestyle, extraordinary good looks and capricious personality had sealed her fate.

Standing there in the freezing rain, I knew the misery I felt couldn't begin to compare with the heart-crushing anguish that had befallen Marcelene and Ginger. Tears stung my eyes, and when the vision of Jenessa's poor little cat waiting in vain for her return popped into my mind, a sob caught in my throat. Blinking fast, I looked away and stared at the thrashing treetops, still haunted by a host of unanswered questions. Some facts that appeared to be a given to law enforcement just didn't compute. Since it seemed most likely that it was Nathan experimenting with drugs, why had the pills only been found in Jenessa's pocket? Had drugs contributed to their demise? But, now that I knew about Nathan's fearless personality, I wondered why this thrill-seeking young risk-taker would passively lie around and freeze to death. Why wouldn't he take the bull by the horns and strike out on his own to find help? He was within two miles of Raven Creek. It just didn't make any sense.

I looked back, staring at the muddy pools, wondering how to describe this lonesome, totally depressing scene to Marcelene and Ginger. Maybe I wouldn't. Viewing the photos taken by law enforcement would be the only way any of us would ever know how the bodies appeared after six days of decomposition. Did I even want to see them now? Why implant that disturbing memory in my mind?

“Satisfied?”

I glanced over at Burton. He looked as miserable as I felt, his shoulders hunched against the howling wind, his coat and slacks drenched.

“Yes.” Hiking dejectedly towards the truck, I asked him, “Did you go inside the camper when you came back here with Harvel?”

A momentary hesitation. “No. I couldn't. Opening the door was enough to convince me. The smell was…overpowering. It was the most terrible odor. Nauseating. I've never experienced anything like that before.”

“Tell me something. The times that you came into contact with Nathan, did you notice whether he had a cell phone?”

Eyes narrowed in thought, he pushed his fogged glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “I honestly don't remember. Why?”

“Because the authorities never found his or Jenessa's phone. Don't you think that's awfully strange?”

“Considering that kids don't go anywhere without them, it does seem peculiar.”

Perhaps to fill the void as we tromped back through the mud, Burton asked me about my job, and after I'd told him about some of the bizarre stories I'd investigated over the past few months, he darted me an inquisitive look. “So, is that what this was all about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe you're reading more into this situation than is really there, hoping for another big story.”

“I'm after the truth, whatever that is.”

Breathing heavily from exertion, he huffed, “So…I'm gathering that you're not convinced it was an accident?”

“I don't know yet. There are a few things still bothering me,” I said through chattering teeth. Chilled to the bone and pooped from the hike, pure relief surged through me at the sight of his truck. I could hardly get inside fast enough. He swiped the water off his coat, jumped in and started the engine. Within a few minutes warm air blew from the vents. “Sorry about messing up your truck,” I said apologetically, looking down at my mud-caked boots.

He shifted into gear. “Don't worry about it. I gave up years ago trying to keep a vehicle clean on these roads.”

“What an interesting experience it must have been growing up in these mountains and your mother having such a unique job.”

His gaze turned wistful. “I don't know if it was all that interesting, unless there was a fire, but it was the happiest time of my life.”

“Darcy told me she'd taken care of your mother during her illness.”

His jaw muscles twitched slightly. “Yeah. I don't like to dwell on that part. I'd rather remember how great it was spending long summer days with her in the lookout when it was just the two of us.”

“You must know everyone around here,” I remarked, holding my cold fingertips to the vents.

“Pretty much.”

“Do you know the Hinkle twins?”

A rapid sidelong glance. “Yeah. Known 'em since they were kids. Troublemakers. Both of them. Why do you ask?”

Did I detect a tinge of irritation in his voice? “I spotted them earlier at the bar in Cleator and, then on the way here to meet you, I noticed they turned off at the Raven Creek Sand and Gravel Company.”

His brows dipped noticeably lower. “That place is a nuisance.”

“People around here seem to either love it or hate it, depending on whether they're employed there.”

“That's true. I tend to sympathize with the environmental point of view. I'm not crazy about companies or people destructive to nature.” He gave me a brief smile. “Part of my job, I guess.”

“What business would they have there?”

“Maybe Elizabeth asked them to check things out since those people are operating on her land.”

“I don't know about that. I've been told that she doesn't have much to do with them since her husband died.”

Burton returned his attention to the road. “I wished she had listened to me. I warned her not to marry John Hinkle. Big mistake. Huge mistake. I tried to tell her he was just using her to raise those obnoxious boys. He never really cared about her like...what the hell?” Staring intently through the fogged-up windshield, he braked unexpectedly. I followed his stricken gaze to the side of the road and drew in a startled breath at the sight of a blood-splattered deer lying on the ground, weakly thrashing her legs in an attempt to get to her feet. Two skinny golden-eyed coyotes paced nervously nearby while at least a dozen ravens sat perched on the pine branches above, patiently waiting. We'd obviously interrupted a scene from nature's food chain.

Burton shoved the truck into park, jumped out and I was right behind him. The coyotes glared at us and stood their ground for a few seconds then, after casting baleful glances in our direction, slinked off into the forest. Once we got close enough, we could see the deep wound on the deer's left hind leg. This didn't look good at all. And the expression of abject terror reflected in the doomed animal's soft brown eyes, filled me with sorrow. Burton surveyed the situation glumly. “Looks like she got entangled in some barbed wire fencing,” he said, pointing to the coil of jagged wire still attached to a piece of what had probably been a fence post. “You might want to go back to the truck now.”

“Why?”

He drew his service revolver. “I'm not going to leave her here to suffer. You think you can stomach this?”

Horror welled up in my chest when I realized what he was about to do. “Wait a minute! Isn't there something we can do to save her?”

“No,” he stated with a note of finality. “She can't walk, so she can't survive. What's it going to be?”

I hesitated, torn as to whether I wanted to witness such a traumatic, yet inevitable event, and decided that I'd come off looking like a coward if I didn't stay. “Do what you have to do.”

His hand shaking slightly, he placed the barrel close to the deer's skull.

Throat tight, belly quaking with expectation, I swear the doe gave me a resigned look as if she knew what was about to transpire. Even though I'd steeled myself, I flinched violently when the shot rang out. The reverberation echoed through the rain-soaked trees, sending the flock of ravens flapping away, cawing loudly, their long wings whipping the air around us. As I watched the life seep from the deer's eyes, I had to admit that the scene had disturbed me far more than I dared let on. It was one thing to fire at paper and metal at the target range but quite another to shoot a living thing. I darted a look at Burton Carr and it was enlightening to note the look of distress etched on his face as he wordlessly turned away, holstering his weapon. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the two coyotes skulking in the nearby brush, salivating. They would soon be feasting on the doe's carcass. On a logical level I accepted the fact that this was nature's way, but emotionally I had no stomach to witness it. I hurried to the truck.

We rode in silence back to the gate and it was a great relief to see my Jeep still sitting there where I'd left it. When I slid out of the truck, weak sunlight peeked through the fast-moving clouds. Considering that I had a lot more to do this afternoon, I felt grateful for a break in the weather. I pulled off the stocking cap and shook my hair loose. “Thanks for driving me out there,” I said, shaking his hand. “I appreciate your efforts.”

“Got a little more than you bargained for, didn't you?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“You do realize I had no choice, right?” His beseeching gaze held such a look of utter torment I got the odd impression that he was seeking my approval.

“Yes, of course.”

“I had to put her out of her misery. I couldn't let her suffer.”

Was I mistaken or did it seem there was a trace of moisture glistening in his hazel eyes? I disagreed with Darcy. Burton Carr did not strike me as a wimp. He struck me as a caring, but perhaps slightly hyper-sensitive guy, and it wasn't hard to visualize him being bullied by someone with a stronger personality. “You did the right thing,” I assured him.

“Thank you. I try. Some people just don't understand that.”

He was still busy fiddling with the gate lock when I pulled away and began the arduous drive back down the slushy road. With the memory of the dismal, secluded spot where Jenessa and Nathan had drawn their last breaths still fresh in my mind, along with that of the unexpected deer execution, I felt emotionally drained and heavy-hearted. I was no closer to knowing what happened than before I came. How would Marcelene and Ginger react when I confessed that I'd come away unable to provide anything at all to allay their suspicions? When I reached the fork in the road and turned towards Raven Creek, it was still bugging me why a savvy, skilled outdoorsman like Nathan Taylor had been here in the first place in the middle of a snowstorm. And what was the attraction to this particular region of the Bradshaws anyway, when the entire mountain range was out there to explore? Why had they kept returning to Raven Creek? At this point in time, it appeared likely that no one would ever know for sure.

CHAPTER

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