Forbidden Entry (35 page)

He pushed the reading glasses higher, focused on the screen and nodded. “Of course I do. Everybody ‘round here calls it the skeleton rock. It's just down the hill from the mine,” he informed me, pointing to the northwest. “John Hinkle's two boys painted it up like that when they was about fourteen. Bad news, them two.”

Unable to keep a note of derision from sneaking into my voice, I remarked dryly, “And still are if you ask me.”

His feathery brows edged higher. “You know them Hinkle boys?”

“We've met. Do they still work here at the ranch?”

“Nah. They got a couple quads stored over there in the bunkhouse they ride every so often. Otherwise, they don't have no interest in being here.”

“I heard that's why Elizabeth Hinkle hired you to watch out for the place.”

At the mention of her name, his rough features softened, and for a fleeting second, his eyes reflected a fierce yearning. Perhaps the rumor that he was still in love with her might actually be true. My insatiable curiosity had me wondering again what had really happened at the Cleator saloon that would have caused him to beat another man to death. That was a story I'd like to hear someday.

“Yeah,” he confirmed gruffly, “she can't depend on them to do shit.”

It was obvious he had no use for them either. “The foreman at the gravel company told me they come around once a month or so to collect the lease payment.”

“Loomis?” He frowned his disagreement. “Well, that ain't hardly true.”

My scalp prickled with irritation. Why would Jack Loomis lie about that? “So, how often
do
you see them around here?”

“Don't know exactly, but I see 'em comin' an' goin' in and out of there more than once a month.” He hesitated, then quickly added the caveat, “But then, it's none of my business.”

Harvel reminded me a lot of Darcy Dorcett. He didn't want to be known as a gossip, didn't want people prying into his own affairs or carrying tales about him, but like so many people in small communities, seemed keenly aware of just about everything his neighbors were doing. “So, you don't think it's unusual for them to be in this area that often even though Castle Valley is quite a drive from here.”

He shrugged indifference. “They been coming here since they was kids.”

“So, that would mean they're pretty well-acquainted with most of the people around here, right?”

“Oh yeah. Just yesterday, I seen 'em with their heads together drinkin' a beer with that quack doctor from Raven Creek.”

“The holistic doctor?”

“Yeah. Gartiner's his name.”

“You mean the mayor?” I quipped.

A derisive sniff. “That's what he calls himself anyway.”

“Why do you think he's a quack?”

“I went up there to his clinic in Prescott one time…” he said, pausing to cover a combination belch and hiccup with his fist before continuing with, “I was sicker 'n a dog and all he did was mix me up a batch of herbs and stuff that didn't do squat for me.”

Again, I found it curious that the doctor would be so chummy with the likes of the Hinkles. It sounded farfetched, but I detected an aura of evil surrounding the duo. And the fact that they'd befriended my brother really bothered me. I glanced up at the brooding peaks again. Something unholy was going on out here and it bugged the crap out of me that I didn't have time to delve into it. All I could do was try to conclude my present assignment. “Getting back to this photo,” I urged Harvel, redirecting his attention to my phone, “Can you tell me how to find this place?”

He inhaled deeply on the cigarette, his eyes straying to the road at the sound of an approaching vehicle. “I can, but you can't git to it no more.”

“Why not?”

“Gravel company people put up a fence and gated the shortcut two years ago. It's sure made my life a whole hell of a lot harder.”

“Because…?”

“Now, I gotta drive all the way around the mountain and up the long way just to get to my cabin,” he groused, gesturing westward toward the snow-dusted peaks.

I shook my head in amazement. “You're kidding. You work here and you're forbidden to use the ranch road?”

Scowling, he said, “They control that end of the property now. I used to go around the first little gate they put up, but they caught me and built a bigger gate 'bout a year ago. One of their guys said he'd shoot me if'n I did it again, so I ain't been over there since.” His features scrunched with annoyance. “But, get this, them squirrelly Hinkle boys got permission to use it.”

“Why would they need to?”

“To race them quads, I guess.” A mischievous gleam entered in his eyes. “But, I can tell you how to get to that rock if you ain't afraid to do a little trespassin'.”

“I'll take my chances,” I responded, a small flare of anticipation warming my insides.

The roar of the car engine grew louder until Percy “Goose” Cross's hearse eased to a stop beside my Jeep. He got out and walked up to us just as Harvel finished giving me directions. “Well, hello there, purty lady,” Goose said, flicking me a conspiratorial wink. “Fancy seeing you here.” I returned his secretive grin as he handed Harvel several envelopes. “I'd recommend you head home soon,” he advised me, inclining his head towards the roiling grey clouds. “Betcha a dollar to a donut it's already starting to snow up top, so I'm done for the day. See ya!” He turned and trotted to his hearse.

“Yep,” concurred Harvel, tucking the envelopes in his coat pocket. “I gotta git down to Black Canyon City.” He stubbed out his cigarette, threw all the bottles into a nearby barrel and whistled for the dog to follow him. As I watched Goose back up the hearse, I wondered if Jack Loomis might be right about Harvel being an alcoholic. But was he also a liar?

“Just one more question before you leave,” I called after him.

Harvel halted and turned back to me. “Yeah?”

“I'm curious as to how you planned to reopen the Thunderbolt Mine. Jack Loomis told me it's too dangerous to enter and had been boarded up.”

He blinked disbelief. “I don't know what that guy is smokin',” he retorted, his face reddening. “You think I'd 've had financial backers if it wasn't safe? I didn't just fall off a cattle truck yesterday. Sure, it was gonna cost some time and money to bring everything up to code, but that mine's been sitting there for a hundred years and now I'm supposed to believe the tunnels caved in within the past three?” He jerked the door open. “That's bullshit.”

Obviously one of the men was lying. Surprised by his forceful response, I concluded with, “I appreciate your time.”

“No problem.” He touched the brim of his tattered hat, let Willie jump into the cab of his truck first and then followed.

I stood there and watched both vehicles disappear into the distance while contemplating what to do next. Logic would dictate that I leave immediately, but a strong premonition glued my feet to the porch. The close proximity of the painted skull rock to the hilltop mine pretty much guaranteed it was the location Nathan and Jenessa had been summarily banished from—by someone creepy, according to her final voicemail. No question that I'd met a number of people these past couple of days who would qualify, especially the two men who had access to the closed road—the Hinkle brothers.

The thundering din from the rock crushers wafted through the air again as I mulled over the new and conflicting information. If the Thunderbolt Mine had been sealed up due to dangerous conditions, what reason would anyone have to be hanging around on the hill in the dark? What would be the motivation for either Jack Loomis or Harvel Brickhouse to lie about it? Conversely, if the mine was indeed still operable, why would gravel company employees be working up there at night? Shouldn't I check it out for myself? At least I would be able to tell Marcelene that, before admitting defeat, I'd done my best to follow up on every possible lead.

CHAPTER

31

I drove north on the ranch road for two miles, turned west and traveled for another mile or so along an unmaintained road peppered with potholes. Harvel had informed me that I would be able to see the skull rock perched on the east side of the hill and that it was within easy walking distance if I chose to trespass. What was that old axiom my grandmother used to say?
It's better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Even though I'd already seen the painted rock in the photo, a little shudder forked through me when the hideous face jumped into view. What kind of mind would create something so repulsive? The black empty sockets set against the white face seemed to stare right through me and the twisted, demonic smile raised a host of goose bumps on my arms. And the really disquieting fact was that it looked freshly painted. Sick. The Hinkles were definitely sick.

Less than a quarter of a mile later, I coasted to a stop in front of the infamous gate where a prominently posted sign screamed out:
NO ENTRY! PRIVATE PROPERTY, NO TRESPASSING! VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED!

According to Harvel, the distance to the old mine entrance at the top of the rocky mound was less than a mile from the gate. I'd best not waste a minute.

Serenaded by the song of the relentless wind whipping through the mesquite, scrub oak and nearby palo verde trees, I prepared for my hike, gathering my down jacket, gloves and stocking cap. Primed to get out, my gaze strayed to the creepy-looking skull face and I stopped. How sane was it to wander off alone with a winter storm bearing down? It had always been my nature to be impulsive. I had never shied away from entangling myself in perilous situations in order to scoop an intriguing story. I thrived on the challenge, endorphins and adrenalin rush. I loved it. It was a high like no other. But, should I permit my zeal to overrule common sense?

I pulled my hand away from the door handle, unable to understand my sudden hesitancy. Did this inexplicable restraint have anything to do with the fact that I was engaged to be married now and should begin thinking twice before charging into possibly dicey circumstances? Was Tally's calm logic and quiet urging to examine my priorities beginning to rub off on me? Should I follow my heart and check out the old mine or use my head and go home? With a deep sigh of disappointment, I made the decision to pack it in.

I turned the Jeep around and headed towards the Bumble Bee road. Whatever was going on out here would have to keep until another time. I'd no sooner passed through Cleator than I heard the familiar drone of quads. I flicked a startled glance in the rearview mirror and sure enough there he was again—my stalker. But this time he had an accomplice who wore an evil clown mask. “Are you kidding me?” I murmured as a feeling of dark certainty consumed me. They had obviously been waiting for me. My apprehension increased when I stepped on the gas. My stalker stayed right on my tail while the second rider sped past me and stayed right in front of me. If I'd had any doubt that someone wanted me out of town, I no longer did.

Part of me wanted to stop and confront them. But how wise would that be? I couldn't really even report it because I had no idea of their identities. It wasn't against the law to wear a mask. Could I prove they were harassing me and not just having a little fun? “I'm leaving now!” I shouted. “You can stop following me!”

But they didn't. I was escorted all the way to the freeway on-ramp. Their mission accomplished, they swung around and vanished around the curve. Grimly, I promised myself that at some point I'd return and delve into this baffling story again. I'd driven no more than a mile when my phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID, surprised to see my mother's name displayed. She hardly ever called me on her cell phone. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”

“Not good.” Her clipped tone put me on alert.

“Is Dad all right?”

“Yes, yes. He's finally sleeping.”

“You sound upset. What's going on?” I pressed.

“It's your brother.”

“Oh my. What's he done now?”

“He's gone.”

A little tremor of concern raced through me. “What do you mean he's gone?”

“I mean he's
gone
!” came her harsh reply. “Disappeared. After Tally dropped us off we had a huge fight.” She paused, then added, “I can't handle these wild mood swings any more. He acts like someone I don't even know.”

“Mom, you do realize he's got a drug problem, right?”

“Don't you think I know that?” she informed me, her voice raising an octave. “Sean said he's got a job offer here and he's not coming home.”

“A job offer? That's crazy! Doesn't he have to go back and face charges?”

“Of course he does!” She fell silent for a few seconds, and when she spoke again her voice quavered with emotion. “If he skips out on bail it will disastrous! He'll be in even worse trouble and the authorities will send a bounty hunter after him. He's going to ruin your father's reputation!” she shrieked, her voice breaking. “And…this could ruin us financially.”

“What do you mean?”

“We borrowed money and mortgaged the house to post his bail.”

Furious with my brother's rash behavior, I listened to her heart-wrenching sobs. “Hang in there, Mom. I'll be back in an hour and a half. He can't have gone far on foot.”

“He…he wasn't on foot. I saw him come out of his room with two men. He was stumbling around and talking gibberish. They all left together in a pickup.”

A sickening stomach plunge. Breathlessly, I asked, “What color was it?”

“What?”

“The truck! What color was it?”

“Black.”

“What time did they leave?”

“I don't know. Maybe one-thirty.” Plaintively, she added, “Where could he be? We're worried sick about him.”

And with good reason. Who knows what kind of a drug he'd taken this time? My heart ached remembering the horrific stories I'd read online describing the fate of teens and young adults who had experimented with unknown combinations of illegal drugs. Some had ended up in a coma while others suffered a horrible death. The memory of the Hinkles' pickup streaking past me on the Bumble Bee road flashed through my mind. “Don't worry, Mom. I have a pretty good idea where he might be.”

Amped up on adrenalin and not really sure what I was going to do, I took the Black Canyon City exit, crossed under the freeway and reversed course back towards the McCracken Ranch, my thoughts churning madly. Was there any doubt that the only job the Hinkles could possibly offer Sean would be dealing drugs? Everything seemed to point in that direction. And there was no question someone didn't want me there snooping around. It was a well-known fact to law enforcement agencies that there was an abundance of people cooking meth in isolated communities all over Arizona. I had no doubt that I'd witnessed a drug deal going down in Jerome on Saturday. If the Hinkles were running a lab someplace, how did that involve the gravel company? Is that what Nathan and Jenessa had stumbled across? Without proof it was pure speculation, but seemed a likely scenario.

My brain was on overload, sifting through all the clues I'd garnered since first hearing about Jenessa. I tore along the Bumble Bee road for the second time that day and stared up at the misty peaks. “What is it?” I whispered. “What am I missing?”

And then all at once the answer to the puzzle hit me like a sharp blow to the stomach. “Holeee crap!” It had been in front of me all along—the common denominator linking the four supposedly accidental deaths. They had all been in the vicinity of the Raven Creek Sand and Gravel Company and
they had all stumbled upon something they weren't supposed to see
. My heart began to thump erratically and I broke into a cold sweat. If Jack Loomis was lying about the status of the Thunderbolt, then the nocturnal activity at the vertical mine became a key element. There had to be something more than rock crushing going on out there. And with the Hinkle twins involved, I had a strong suspicion it must be drug-related. Did that explain the lights on the hill at night? Were they hosting desert rave parties to serve copious quantities of illegal substances? Then another thought occurred to me. What if the victims had taken photos of something incriminating? Would that explain the missing cell phones and the blank memory card taken from Luke Campbell's camera? My mind swam with possibilities. The more I thought about it, the more my insides burned with excitement. But, this time I would be smart. No running willy-nilly into danger as I'd done on my last four assignments. This time I would keep the solemn promise Tally had extracted from me and alert the sheriff
before
striking out on my own.

I pressed my phone button. “Call Marshall Turnbull.” It rang four times and went to voicemail. Damn! I left a voice message explaining where I was going and then called his office. Julie answered tersely, “Sheriff's Office.”

“It's Kendall. Is Marshall in?”

“No.”

“How about Duane?”

“They're both out investigating a fatal accident on 89. A wrong-way driver plowed into a family in a minivan. Two of the kids were killed. They're going to be a while.”

“That's terrible.” I chewed my lower lip for a few seconds. “Well, when Marshall is available tell him I think he should check out the Raven Creek Sand and Gravel Company. There's something weird going on there.”

“What?”

“I don't know. But it's possible there may be some connection to Jenessa Wooten's death. He should get a search warrant.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Uh…no.”

Silence. “Well, he's got to show probable cause to get it. What is he looking for?”

“I'm not sure yet.” I must have sounded lame. I checked the time on the dashboard. Less than two hours of daylight remained.

“So, what do you want me to tell him?” Julie persisted with an undertone of impatience entering her voice.

“It's just a guess, but the Hinkle brothers may be running a meth lab or something there.”

“Okay, I'll tell him.”

“Thanks, Julie.”

One thing I knew for certain. I couldn't drive through the front gate of the gravel company, so I'd do the next best thing and sneak in the back way. I retraced my route to the ranch and when the gate appeared, I pulled off the road and maneuvered the Jeep into a secluded grove of scrub oaks. Armed with my .38 in one pocket of my jacket and my phone and car keys in the other, I slipped through the barbed wire. I was now officially trespassing. I zigzagged my way up the steep rock-and-cactus covered hill, keeping an eye on the advancing clouds that had finally snuffed out the sunlight, casting dark shadows over the mountain. The swift plunge in temperature had me zipping the jacket up to my chin as the first snowflakes pelted my cheeks. But I hardly felt them. Seething with fury, heat radiated throughout my entire body. I could gladly strangle Sean for his irresponsible behavior. He couldn't possibly be in his right mind to think he could skip out on bail and ignore the fact that he had serious charges pending against him back in Pennsylvania. But then, if he was wasted on whatever drug he was experimenting with now, he probably wasn't thinking rationally.

Within minutes I arrived at the painted skeleton rock. It was gigantic and downright spooky up close. What I hadn't seen in the photo or from my vantage point below was the multitude of expletives, lewd pictures and satanic symbols carved into it. Repulsive. Nauseating. Hideous. No question. The Hinkle brothers bordered on psychopathic. Little wonder Elizabeth didn't want them anywhere near her and why everyone else referred to them as bad news. And now they had lured my drug-addled brother into their seamy clutches. At that moment I loved and hated Sean equally. What a friggin' mess he'd caused!

My heart pounded with exertion as the hill grew steeper, but I could now clearly see the splintered wood on the old head frame looming above the limestone rock outcropping. I sprinted the last few hundred yards and arrived at the mouth of the old mine, which was liberally sprinkled with warning signs to stay away. A makeshift chain-link fence surrounded the dark hole. I moved forward for a better look and that's when I heard a whining roar from behind that turned my blood to ice water. Oh my God! For precious seconds indecision held me immobile before I got my mushy legs to cooperate. I broke into a run, frantically searching for a hiding place, finally flattening myself to the ground behind a thicket of mesquite bushes nanoseconds before an off-road vehicle rumbled to a stop. Laughter and masculine shouts reached my ears. With a stab of alarm, I recognized the familiar voices of the Hinkle brothers. Would they hear my tortured breathing? Did I dare even look up? I had to. Ever so slightly, I raised my head and had to stifle a horrified gasp at the sight of my brother seated in the quad with the two men. Sean looked completely out of it, his face ghostly white, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Danny and Daryl hopped out, but when Sean tried, he stumbled and fell to the ground like a rag doll and flailed about, speaking gibberish. The Hinkles turned to glare down at him. “The dude's not supposed to be sampling the shit, he's supposed to sell it!” Danny stated in a disgusted tone, eyeing his brother coldly.

Daryl gave him a sideways grin. “He's really trippin' out on it.”

“How much did you give him?”

“Hey, don't blame me. I told him it was something new and to go easy.”

Danny's upper lip curled into a sneer. “You dumbass! The big man is coming today. We can't have this guy checkin' out on us or we're gonna be up shit creek!”

“It was your idea to bring his ass here, not mine,” Daryl shot back, punching his brother in the shoulder.