Murdered In Conard County. Rachel Lee

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      * * *

      IT NEVER ENTERED his head, either. “I’m not armed,” he warned her as he slipped off the saddle.

      “We can share.”

      He loosely draped Scrappy’s reins around the porch railing in front of the cabin, knowing they wouldn’t hold him. He didn’t want them to. It was a signal to Scrappy to hang around, not remain frozen in place. A few seconds later, he climbed into the pickup with Blaire and they started up the less-than-ideal road. He was glad his teeth weren’t loose because Blaire wasted no time avoiding the ruts.

      He spoke, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the roaring engine. “Have you thought yet about what you’re doing for Christmas and Thanksgiving?”

      She didn’t answer for a moment as she shifted into a lower gear for the steepening road. “It’s July. What brought that on?”

      “Danged if I know,” he admitted. “I was riding Scrappy in your direction because I’m restless tonight and it all started with a line from ‘Over the River’ popping into my head. Then as I was coming down the path I remembered how in the Middle Ages people put candles on tree branches on long winter nights so the pathways would be lit for travelers. Which led to...”

      “Christmas,” she said. “Got it. Still weird.”

      He laughed. “That’s what I thought, too. My head apparently plays by its own rules.”

      It was her turn to laugh, a short mirthless sound. “No kidding. I don’t have to tell you about mine.”

      No, she didn’t, and he was damned sorry that she carried those burdens, too. “So, holidays,” he repeated. No point in thinking about what lay ahead of them. If someone had been shot, they both knew it wasn’t going to be pretty. And both of them had seen it before.

      “I’ll probably stay right here,” she answered. “I love it when the forest is buried in snow, and someone has to be around if the snowshoe hikers and the cross-country skiers get into trouble.”

      “Always,” he agreed. “And doesn’t someone always get into trouble?”

      “From what I understand, it hasn’t failed yet.”

      He drummed his fingers on his thigh, then asked, “You called the sheriff?”

      “Yeah, but discharge of a weapon is in my bailiwick. They have a couple of cars heading this way. If I find out someone has been shot, I’ll warn them. Otherwise I’ll tell them to stand down.”

      Made sense. This wasn’t a war zone after all. Most likely someone had brought a gun along for protection and had fired it into the night for no good reason. Scared? A big shadow hovering in the trees?

      And in the dead of night, wakened from a sound sleep by a gunshot, a camper could be forgiven for calling to say that someone had been shot even without seeing it. The more isolated a person felt, the more he or she was apt to expect the worst. Those guys up there at Twin Rocks were about as isolated as anyone could get without hiking off alone.

      He hoped that was all it was. An accident that had been misinterpreted. His stomach, though, gave one huge twist, preparing him for the worst.

      “You hanging around for the holidays?” she asked. Her voice bobbled as the road became rougher.

      “Last year my assistant did,” he reminded her. “This year it’s me. What did you do last year?”

      “Went to visit my mother in the nursing home. I told you she has Alzheimer’s.”

      “Yeah. That’s sad.”

      “Pointless to visit. She doesn’t even recognize my voice on the phone anymore. Regardless, I don’t think she feels lonely.”

      “Why’s that?”

      “She spends a lot of time talking to friends and relatives who died back when. Her own little party.”

      “I hope it comforts her.”

      “Me, too.” Swinging a hard left, she turned onto a narrower leg of road that led directly to a dirt and gravel parking lot of sorts. It was where the campers left their vehicles before hiking in.

      “You ever been to this campground?” she asked as she set the brake and switched off the ignition.

      “Not on purpose,” he admitted. “I may have. Scrappy and I sometimes wander a bit when we’re out for a day-off ride.”

      “Everything has to be lugged in,” she replied, as if that would explain all he needed to know.

      It actually did. Rustic was the popular word for it. “They have a phone, though?”

      “Yeah, a direct line to me. The state splurged. I would guess lawyers had something to do with that.”

      He gave a short laugh. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

      Even though Blaire was clearly experienced at getting the side-by-side off the back of her truck, he helped. It was heavy, it needed to roll down a ramp, and it might decide to just keep going.

      Once it was safely parked, he helped reload the ramp and close the tailgate. Then there was loading the first-aid supplies and guns. She knew where everything went, so he took directions.

      With a pause as he saw the roll of crime scene tape and box of latex gloves. And shoe covers. God. A couple of flashlights that would turn night into day. He hoped they didn’t need any of it. Not any of it.

      At least the state hadn’t stinted on the side-by-side. It had a roof for rainy weather, and a roll bar he could easily grab for stability. There were four-point harnesses as well, no guarantee against every danger but far better than being flung from the vehicle.

      These side-by-side UTVs weren’t as stable as three-wheelers, either. It might be necessary for her job, but if he were out for joyriding, he’d vastly prefer a standard ATV.

      She drove but tempered urgency with decent caution. The headlights were good enough, but this classified more as a migratory path than a road. Even knowing a ranger might have to get out here in an emergency, no one had wanted to make this campground easily accessible by vehicle. There were lots of places like that in his part of the forest. Places where he needed to drag teams on foot when someone got injured.

      Soon, however, he saw the occasional glint of light through the trees. A lot of very-awake campers, he imagined. Frightened by the gunshot. He hoped they weren’t frightened by more.

      The forest thinned out almost abruptly as they reached the campground. He could make out scattered tents, well separated in the trees. Impossible in the dark to tell how many there might be.

      But a group of people, all of whom looked as if they’d dragged on jeans, shirts and boots in a hurry, huddled together, a couple of the women hugging themselves.

      Blaire brought the ATV to a halt, parked it and jumped off. He followed more slowly, not wanting to reduce her authority in any way. She was the boss here. He was just a visitor. And he wasn’t СКАЧАТЬ