Ghost of a Chance (11 page)

They had walked about fifty yards when a familiar smell wafted past Frank's nose. He followed the acrid odor to the left through some tangled undergrowth. Then he lost the scent. “Did you
smell that?” he asked the others in a low voice. There was no response. He looked around but saw no one. In an instant, he realized he had wandered off the trail they'd been carving through the forest.

Carefully, Frank retraced his steps through the undergrowth. A strange sound behind him made him pause for a moment to listen. It was a low throaty warbling sound. It was like a warning, a nervous noise broadcasting imminent danger. White-hot waves rippled up Frank's back and seemed to explode in his temples.

He took another cautious step forward. The sound behind him changed to a long gutteral growl.

Frank turned around slowly and took a step backward. He puckered his dry lips and managed a shrill whistling sound, one that he knew would get Joe's attention.

He still couldn't see what was hiding in the undergrowth in front of him, what was threatening him with that low rumbly growl.

Frank took one more step backward and felt his foot sink. The ground disappeared completely beneath his foot, and he plunged down into a dank black pit. Above him, snarling and flashing its ferocious fangs was the softly wedged face of a mountain lion.

Frank's piercing whistle cut through the dense forest. “That's Frank,” Joe said when he heard it. He looked around. “It came from back there.”

Joe led Gene and Lloyd back in the direction of Frank's whistle. “Whoa, look at that!” Joe said, spotting the mountain lion standing in the path in front of them. Its long tail flashed back and forth, and a red bandanna was tied around its neck. A small hunk was missing from the edge of its left ear.

“Stand still,” Lloyd reminded them all. “It's been around people.” He drew his tranquilizer gun, just in case, but it wasn't needed. The cat bolted away.

“I'm down here,” Frank called when he heard their voices.

Joe and Gene rushed to the edge of the pit. “I'm going after that cat,” Lloyd said. “It's the same one that attacked you this morning, Joe. You three follow me when you get Frank out.”

“Hey, are you okay?” Joe flashed his beam around the bottom of the pit. Frank was standing, smiling up at him.

“I'll tell you what——I'd rather see your face up there than the one that was looking down at me a few minutes ago.”

“Let's get you out of there,” Joe said. “Are there any toeholds—anything you can use to climb up?”

“No, I've already checked,” Frank answered. “This was some kind of well, I think, but the stones that lined it crumble when I touch them. We'll have to use ropes.”

Joe and Gene tied their ropes together and lowered them to Frank. The two of them anchored the lifeline as Frank climbed to the surface. Back on firm ground, he unloaded his vest pocket.

“I found these at the bottom of the well,” he said. “They were buried pretty deep, but the ground is so soft down there—nothing but mud and weeds. I stirred things up when I landed.” Joe flashed his light beam on the objects in Frank's hand.

“Looks like pieces of a belt or strapping for something,” Joe said, picking up the two strips of leather.

“And this is silver, I think,” Frank said, holding up a chain. “It's corroded, but it might clean up.”

“Where's Lloyd?” Frank asked, putting the objects back in his pocket. “And what happened to the lion?”

“They both went thataway,” Joe said, gesturing to the right. “I suggest we do the same.”

“Agreed,” Frank said. “But I want to come back here tomorrow when it's lighter to look around.”

Joe, Frank, and Gene followed the path beaten through the forest by Lloyd chasing the mountain lion. The thick brush and undergrowth began to thin out after about forty yards, and they caught up with Lloyd at the edge of a small clearing.

“Shhh,” Lloyd warned them. “Look at that.” Joe, Frank, and Gene stopped and followed Lloyd's gaze.

In the glow of twilight they saw a small cabin. Although old, it appeared neat and cared for. Leading away from the far side was a narrow dirt road with tire-tread marks. “Looks like someone lives here,” Joe said in a low voice.

“At least a four-legged someone,” Lloyd pointed out.

Walking across the clearing was the mountain lion with the red bandanna around its neck. When it reached the cabin, it gave the front door a nudge and sauntered inside.

Joe, Frank, Gene, and Lloyd crossed the clearing
and peered through a window. They were looking in on the main room of a two-room cabin. They could see through a doorway into a large kitchen at the back.

The puma was lying on the top tier of a bunk bed in the corner of the main room. Totally at ease, it licked its paw, then rubbed it across its face. There was no sign of a human resident.

Joe went to the front door, which was ajar. Carefully, he inched it open, Frank, Gene, and Lloyd right behind him.

At first the puma stopped washing its face and stared at the trespassers. Its tail swept back and forth, indicating its annoyance at being disturbed. Its ears flattened against its head, and its lip curled up a little to show sharp fangs.

Joe talked to it the way he'd been taught to speak to Omar. “Easy, boy,” he said. “It's okay. Easy … easy. Gooooood boy.”

Joe stared at the cat but didn't move. Finally the puma's ears relaxed. In another minute it resumed its face-washing.

Never taking his eyes off the puma, Joe stepped inside the cabin. The cat watched Joe and the others enter. Although its tail kept up its flipping and flopping, it sighed and seemed to tentatively accept their presence.

“I'll keep an eye on him—and the front door,” Gene said. “You three look around.” He leaned
against the wall, and he and the puma settled into a stare-off.

“Coffee,” Frank said, sniffing the aroma curling out from the kitchen.

“And a fire,” Gene said as the telltale sounds crackled through the air.

“Someone definitely lives here,” Joe said, “and probably isn't going to be gone long.”

“Such a tiny clearing in the middle of this enormous mountain forest,” Lloyd pointed out. “We'd never have found this place if we hadn't followed the puma.”

“I grew up here,” Gene said from his sentry post. “There are thousands of cabins like this that no one knows about tucked into mountainsides. The lion is obviously a pet and pretty trusting. It was probably raised as a kitten, with little experience as a wild animal.”

“I'm sure this is the lion that wandered on to the set this morning,” Lloyd said.

“And that's probably the bandanna I found,” Joe said, “the one that was stolen from the truck.” “You told us that puma had to have been brought to the set, right?” Frank asked the wranglers. “You told us wild pumas are very shy. It wouldn't have just walked into a group of people.”

“That's right,” Gene said.

“And whoever planted him there must be someone who really knows the area,” Frank pointed
out. “Someone who knows how to manage the puma and steer it on to the set.”

“Like the owner of this cabin,” Joe said. “Let's find out who that is.”

Joe, Frank, and Lloyd poked around for a few minutes. At first they found nothing important. The cabin had only a few pieces of furniture, and there weren't many personal items lying around.

“Hey, what's this?” Joe said at last. He was standing next to an old wooden door propped up against the corner of the room. He pulled the door away and leaned it against one wall.

“Easy, boy, easy,” Gene murmured to the lion, who perked up its ears. It looked intently at Gene for a few minutes, then rolled onto its side and closed its eyes.

“Look at this,” Joe said. Moving the old door had revealed a beat-up trunk tucked into the corner. Joe eagerly hoisted up the lid. Inside was a surprising treasure. Clothes, wigs, mustaches and beards, eyeglasses, stage makeup, canes and other accessories—everything a person would need to turn himself into many different people.

“Hello,” Frank said, digging deep into the trunk and pulling out a hairy Bigfoot costume. “Guess what this is supposed to be.” He looked it over carefully, then concluded, “This is different from the movie costume.”

“It's in a lot worse shape,” Joe observed. He
pointed out a few rips and one place where the fur had completely worn off.

“Whoa, what's that?” Gene whispered, from his spot against the front wall.

“What's the matter?” Lloyd asked, his voice low. As he spoke, the puma rolled up to his feet and stood on the top bunk. He stared at the front door.

“I thought I heard something coming up that road out back,” Gene said.

“Let's get out of here,” Joe warned. “Looks like Daddy's coming home.”

Frank stuffed the Bigfoot costume back into the trunk. Joe shut the lid and slid the old door back in front of the trunk. Quickly, they darted back out the front door.

Joe's feet and his heartbeat seemed to race in rhythm as he led the others back across the clearing toward the woods. But he stopped cold when he heard the scratchy warning voice: “Don't turn around or you'll be dinner for my roommate!”

Joe, Frank, and the wranglers stood very still when they heard the threatening voice behind them. Joe wanted to turn around, but he didn't know whether the person was armed.

“Now, you all don't want to be turnin' around,” the person said as if reading Joe's mind. “You don't need to see who I am or what I'm holding in my hands, aimed in your direction.”

“That roommate you're talking about,” Joe said. “Would that be the puma we saw in the cabin?”

“It would,” the person said. “His name is Elvis. Only he's not in the cabin anymore. He's standing here. And he's eager to do a replay of this morning's scene. All he needs is my signal.”

“Hey, it was a great stunt this morning,” Joe
said. “I really thought Elvis was a wild animal. I'd sure like to meet his trainer. How about it?”

“Nice try,” the person said with a nasty chuckle.

“Do you have our puma?” Lloyd asked. “Did you take Omar?”

“Well, now, I thought it best not to have two pumas on location,” the person said. “So I removed yours temporarily.”

“Where is he?” Lloyd asked.

“You'll get him back soon enough,” the voice replied. “I'm not going to keep him. I got my hands full with Elvis. I want you trespassers off my property. Don't turn around. Don't look back. Just get out of here. If I ever catch you here again, you'll become a permanent part of the Smokies.”

“Okay, we hear you,” Joe said, taking a deep breath. “Come on, guys, let's go.” Frank, Gene, and Lloyd followed Joe out of the clearing and back into the forest.

From behind a tree, Joe took one quick look back. He wasn't close enough to see the person clearly. But he rattled off a few things to the others as they ran by. “Medium height,” he whispered, “long shaggy hair and beard, big shotgun.”

It took the four a while to retrace their steps and get back to their trucks. “It's getting so dark,” Lloyd said. “I'm going to check in with the sheriff on the way back. I don't trust that guy back there.
I want to see if the sheriff's search has turned up anything on Omar.”

“Good idea,” Gene said. “I'll go back with the Hardys. I need to check on Gus.”

Joe watched Lloyd drive off, then pulled the other truck onto the road. “So who was that guy, I wonder,” he said as he drove. “And why did he disrupt the film shoot?”

“There was something about his voice,” Frank said. “I think I've heard that voice before.”

“Do we know for sure it
was
a guy?” Joe asked. “I couldn't tell by the voice, could you?”

“No, but you said he had a beard,” Gene said.