Woman in Shadow

by Carrie Stuart Parks

  I’d stuck all the rocks in a single pocket, and they now poked me in the hip. I pulled the stones out. Cookie didn’t know what they were for either. Why three? Ugly, lumpy, heavy . . . I should just throw them away. Instead I again put one in each pocket.

  It didn’t take long to pack up my bag. I decided to leave Roy’s packet in the cabin and just take my handwritten notes with me. If I returned, I wouldn’t have to ask for them again, and if I decided to head to Clan Firinn, Roy would have his materials. When I picked up my purse, I realized I’d left my wallet and Shadow Woman’s drawings in the art room. I grabbed my suitcase and duffel and placed them on the porch next to the dog dishes, then walked over to the lodge. For now I’d leave the dried fruit still in the basket and the dog food.

  Liam was leading the harnessed Belgian from the barn to hitch up to the wagon. He waved at me.

  I waved back. “Hi, Liam. I’ll be going with you. Could you see that my bags and the dogs’ dishes are loaded?”

  He grinned. “You betcha, Miss Darby. You can ride up front with me.”

  In a pig’s eye I’ll ride up front with you. “Thank you, Liam. I believe Dee Dee will be coming. I’d bet she’d like to sit with you. She loves classical music. Maybe you could introduce her to bro-country.”

  He gave me a sour look and stalked away with the horse.

  The lobby was empty and silent as I made my way to the art room. After retrieving my wallet and Scott Thomas’s note from the backpack, I moved to where I’d left the sketches.

  They were gone.

  Chapter 13

  Angie must have picked up the drawings. I checked her desk, then around the room. The drawings were definitely missing. Returning to her desk, I started pulling out drawers.

  “Excuse me? What are you doing?” Angie stood in the doorway. Her voice was louder than ever.

  My face burned. “Um . . . looking for my drawings . . . technically Shadow Woman’s sketches. I’m going to Targhee Falls on the supply wagon and wanted them. Where did you put them?”

  “I didn’t. They were still there when I returned from Roy’s office. Everyone left right after you did—Dee Dee to pack, Peter and Stacy for a walk. I went back to my room.”

  “Did you lock the art room?”

  “No. But I can’t imagine why someone would take them.”

  My neck tingled. “Maybe because they revealed a bit too much about some people?”

  Angie folded her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “Admittedly Sam’s sketch wasn’t very flattering, but he’s not here. Come to think of it, didn’t you buy those drawings from Sam in the first place? He could have destroyed the drawing when he had it.”

  “He never saw it. The clerk hid it in a phone book.”

  Angie straightened. “So we have a mystery! And you’re an investigator!”

  “You said that before. I’m not. I’m just missing my drawings.”

  “I don’t believe you, you know, when you deny being in law enforcement. My dad and brothers are all in the field, and I can spot an officer a mile away.” She squinted at me. “Not patrol or dispatch, more like a crime expert of some kind.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m a forensic linguist.”

  “I knew it. I knew it! That’s like analyzing ransom notes, lies in what people write, stuff like that?”

  “I examine words people use. What they write. What they say.”

  Angie moved from the door and pulled out a chair. “Give me an example.”

  “I really can’t talk about actual cases.”

  “Come on, Darby. Something!”

  I sighed and thought for a moment. “Okay, the easiest part of what I do is related to lying and deception.”

  “Aren’t those the same thing?”

  “No. Most people don’t lie, but they do deceive. A lie is false information. The reason most people don’t lie is they can’t remember what they said. People commonly do deceive. They’ll stick to the truth as much as possible, just concealing one thing. So if you have, say, a case where an employee took some money from the boss’s desk, the employee will keep to the real events and just leave out the theft.”

  “And you can tell that how?”

  “The truth will be full of detail—where they were, how they were feeling, what was going on around them. When they get to the deception, the story will be lean, little detail, and full of certain phrases like ‘the next thing I knew,’ or ‘later on.’ You want to listen to exactly what people say. You don’t add to it or subtract from it.”

  Angie picked up a pencil and twirled it. “Go on.”

  “Deception happens all the time in advertising. For example, marketers claim a supplement works because it was clinically tested.”

  “So?”

  “Clinically tested doesn’t mean the same as clinically proven. They’re not saying it works, only that it was tested. Sometimes they can’t even say that, so they’ll say that it’s the bestselling supplement, implying that if a bunch of people buy it, it must work.”

  “Oh, that’s good. Who are the best liars?”

  “The best liars,” I said slowly, “and the most devastating lies, come from the people you’d never believe would lie to you.”

  Clang, clang, clang. Someone rang a triangle outside the lodge.

  “That’s the signal that the supply wagon’s leaving in half an hour.” Angie stood. “I’ll keep looking for those drawings and let you know when I find them.”

  Just before I exited, she put her arm out and stopped me. “I believe you were sent here to find out what’s rotten at Mule Shoe.” She moved her arm. “Go ahead and make your report in Targhee Falls to whomever you work for, then get back here before something even worse happens.”

  I hurried away, Angie’s words bouncing in my brain. Cookie, Roy, Angie . . . how many other people knew why I was here, and how did that figure into what was going on?

  I had a few minutes before I had to leave—time to write a few notes. Moving to the front porch of the lodge where I could watch for the departing wagon, I selected a seat and opened my notebook.

  Angie was the last person I saw, so I wrote down her name. Think about the art room. I paused. Although the room had been ransacked, nothing, really, had been destroyed. The pencil sets were intact, nothing had been broken. Could Angie . . .

  The ground shifted. Holly and Maverick, resting in the shade in front of me, leaped to their feet and began barking.

  “Ha! One got past you.”

  Cookie charged out the door and looked at her watch. “What the . . .”

  The ground continued to tremble. Both dogs looked left and kept barking.

  The rumbling grew louder, turning into a thunder of hoofbeats. The entire herd of horses burst into sight, raising a cloud of dust.

  “Not again!” Cookie put her hand over her mouth.

  The horses were followed by Wyatt on foot. He spotted us and walked over. “Between the helicopters and that last earthquake, the horses are all on edge. They found a spot in the fence to push through. Don’t worry, the main gate is closed, so they’ll just circle around and head back—especially if I rattle a bucket of oats. But I gotta tell you, I’m tired of chasing horses. Never did catch Shadow Woman’s old mule, and one other horse is gone.” He stomped off, muttering.

  I turned to Cookie. “You said ‘not again.’ I know the horses got out earlier today. Has this happened before?”

  “It happens. Barbed wire would keep them in better, but they can injure themselves on it. When they break out like this, it’s just best to get out of the way and let them run. They’ll return to their pasture soon enough.”

  Almost before she’d finished speaking, the horses had swung around the outside of the cabins and were galloping toward the barn.

  The ground shook again. The dogs hadn’t stopped barking. I couldn’t tell if it was another earthquake or the racing horses, but my neck was on full-scale fire.

  * * *

  Liam stuck his h
ead into Roy’s office. “Getting late and a storm’s comin’. Can you help me?”

  Bram glanced at his watch. It was getting late. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the Devil’s Keyhole at dusk. He trotted from the office and helped Liam hitch up the horse, then they circled around to the cabins collecting luggage. Returning to the front of the lodge, Bram jumped down and rang the triangle. Liam guided the Belgian to the side of the building to collect any last-minute mail and packages.

  Clouds had been gathering over the past few hours, and the temperature had dipped. The helicopter taking the guests to Idaho Falls should have been ahead of the storm. In fact, they should have landed by now. He hoped any rain would hold off until they reached town. The wagon was charming and rustic when the weather was nice, but plenty miserable when the elements changed.

  As he strolled around the lodge, something nagged at the back of his brain, but he couldn’t pull it out. What was he forgetting? He had the contaminated water. Was it something else? Weather? Idaho Falls? Supply wagon? Mule Shoe?

  A small earthquake was followed by the barking dogs at the front of the lodge. Shortly after came the sound of a stampede.

  “Grab the horse’s head,” he yelled at Liam. The young man took hold of the Belgian’s bridle on one side while Bram held on to the other. The big guy stomped and tossed his head as the herd raced through the center of the resort, kicking up a dust cloud. By the time the cloud settled, the horses had reached the perimeter fence and turned back toward the barn.

  “Glad we had him hitched up,” Liam said. “No way would he have been able to pull the wagon if he’d been running with the herd. Too jacked up.”

  Still holding the bridle, both men walked the horse and wagon to the front of the lodge.

  Dee Dee, Grace, and Darby were waiting. The two dogs circled Darby but remained some distance from the others. The suitcases were stacked behind the spring seat, and a thick mattress covered the remaining area. Cookie bustled from the lodge with several blankets. “You might get cold at the top of the pass. If, heaven forbid, it should start raining, there’s a tarp under the spring seat.” She pulled Darby aside and spoke quietly, but Bram could hear her. “I hope you’ll return after making your report, and I hope whoever or whatever is behind all this is caught and punished. This is too glorious a place on earth to lose it now. Be safe.”

  I hope she returns too. Bram busied himself by placing a box on the ground to serve as a step, then helped Dee Dee to the wagon bed. When Darby placed her hand in his for help, it felt like downy feathers tickled his palm. She made a point of not looking at him, but two red patches appeared on her cheeks.

  Bram jumped up onto the seat next to Liam, who frowned his displeasure. “Let’s go.”

  Roy wandered out and watched them leave. He looked like he’d aged twenty years.

  Grace waved good-bye to her friend. “I’ll call you when I get back to town.”

  Everyone’s mood seemed to match the gathering dark clouds. Dee Dee leaned against one side of the wagon bed, opposite Darby. The women spread the blankets over their outstretched legs. Without encouragement, the two dogs followed, neither letting Darby out of sight. The air held the earthy scent of rain.

  Bram thought about Shadow Woman’s drawing of the sheriff. “Liam, did your mom meet Shadow Woman at some point?”

  Liam thought for a few moments. “Nooo . . . wait, yeah. Around the time of the fire that killed those two guys. Everyone went to see the burned-down house. Mom was really upset, but I . . .” He clicked at the horse.

  “But you what?”

  “Nothin’.”

  Bram waited, but Liam just focused on the road.

  Halfway up the mountain, the rain struck. Dee Dee snatched out the tarp, but before she could completely open it, the full deluge hit. Both Bram and Liam hunkered down but were almost immediately soaked. All Bram could see in the back of the wagon was the blue tarp covering a pair of moving lumps.

  He looked around for his messenger bag before realizing he’d left it in Roy’s office. That was what he’d forgotten. At least nothing will get wet. He made sure his pistol stayed dry.

  A blast of wind lifted the edge of the tarp, then ripped it from the women’s grip and sent it sailing over the edge of the mountain. Dee Dee let loose with a colorful string of cuss words, while Darby ducked farther under the swiftly soaked blankets.

  Liam pulled up his collar. “What else can go wrong? I told Roy if he was going to keep up this ridiculous ‘primitive’ theme, he needed a backup plan.” He continued to gripe, swear, and whine until Bram had enough.

  “Liam, just drive the wagon and keep your mouth shut.”

  The rain ceased as quickly as it had begun, and the clouds parted enough for tepid sunlight to add a sheen to the puddles. The previously crisp clop, clop, clop of the big horse became muted in the mud.

  They’d reached the point where the road narrowed, with a rocky cliff on one side and steep drop on the other. Around the next corner was the top of the pass and the Devil’s Keyhole. The sun dipped behind a cloud, further chilling the air. He’d be glad when this trip ended.

  They moved around the bend and stopped.

  The road ended at a mountain of rocks, uprooted trees, and dirt.

  * * *

  I couldn’t decide if I’d be less miserable with or without the soaked blanket covering me. Dee Dee’s shivering matched mine. I was about to put the blanket issue to a vote when the wagon stopped.

  Bram turned and looked at us. “Ladies, it looks like we’ll have to go back to Mule Shoe. A landslide has blocked our leaving.”

  Dee Dee groaned, then snapped, “Let’s get to it. I’m chilled to the bone.”

  “No way,” Liam said. “It’s too dangerous to back down, and it’s too narrow here to turn around. We’ll have to unhitch the horse, then use him to pull the wagon so it’s facing the other way.”

  Bram jumped down. “I’m going to get a rock to put behind the wheel. Darby, if you could hold the horse’s head while Liam unhitches him. Dee Dee, get up on the driver’s seat and hold on to the brake lever.”

  Before Bram could help me, I’d hopped off the back, walked to the horse’s head, and taken hold of the bridle. Bram grabbed a good-sized rock from the side of the road. As he moved toward the wheel, Liam unsnapped the harness from the wagon.

  Crack!

  At the sound of splintering wood the horse tossed his head, pulling me off my feet. I clung to his bridle until I regained my footing, then looked around to see what had made the sound.

  Dee Dee was holding the shattered end of the brake lever.

  The wagon lurched backward, gaining speed, aiming straight for the cliff edge.

  “Jump!” Bram yelled.

  “Dee Dee, jump!” I screamed.

  Dee Dee leaped from the driver’s seat, hit the road, and rolled. The wagon flew off the road and out of sight.

  I held my breath. Please, Lord . . .

  Dee Dee grabbed at grasses and dirt to stop her momentum.

  A loud crash echoed across the mountains as the wagon hit the bottom of the ravine.

  Bram raced toward the frantically thrashing woman.

  Dee Dee screamed once just before she disappeared over the precipice.

  I became light-headed. My vision blurred. If I hadn’t been clinging so hard to the horse’s bridle, I would have collapsed.

  Bram stumbled to the edge of the cliff and looked over, then spun away. “Oh, my sweet Lord.” His face was ashen.

  Liam moved next to Bram, glanced down, then turned and vomited.

  This time I did crumple to the ground. The enormity of Dee Dee gone in an instant washed over me.

  Holly reached my side, sat, and rested her head on my shoulder.

  Without a word, Liam turned and started trotting back to Mule Shoe.

  Bram reached over and picked up the broken handle of the brake.

  The Belgian sniffed my hair, then shuffled restlessly. His enormous feet were
inches from my leg. As I started to get to my feet, Bram came over and held out his hand. I gratefully took it. He pulled me up, then into his arms. I clung to him, shivering, feeling his warmth.

  We stood there for a long moment. His arms wrapped around me, cradling me, felt so good, so right . . . Just wait until he finds out.

  I straightened and shifted away from him. “We . . . need to get back to Mule Shoe and call it in . . . get a recovery team . . . it’s getting late.”

  Slowly Bram released me. “Rain check, then.”

  I ducked my head so he couldn’t see my expression, afraid it would be one of pathetic longing.

  He held out the brake handle for me to see. Part of it was ragged slivers of wood. Half was a neat cut.

  “How long ago do you think someone sabotaged the brake handle?” I asked him.

  “It’s fresh. Yet another ‘accident.’” He made quote marks in the air.

  “And this time someone is dead.”

  He nodded, took the reins from me, and pulled me around until I faced the right side of the horse. Like most of his breed, the Belgian towered over me at over eighteen hands—over six feet at the withers. “Use the harness and grab on. I’ll give you a leg up.”

  Without thinking, I bent my leg. Bram boosted me up to the equine’s massive back.

  I clutched the mane and stared down at him.

  He stood motionless, staring at my left leg. Slowly he reached forward and tugged my jeans up, exposing the metal rod of my prosthesis.

  A gust of wind hit the ponderosas in the ridge above us, filling the silence with creaking branches and murmuring needles. The dogs, restlessly pacing the road, paused and looked at us.

  I took a deep breath and blinked rapidly to clear my vision. “It was only a matter of time before you learned the truth. I’m not ashamed. This is my new reality.”

  “When were you going to tell me?” he asked quietly.

  “What’s to tell?” I swallowed, grateful my voice remained steady. I wasn’t going to tell him I was a coward as well. My amputation should be enough to kill any interest.

  The horse shifted and Bram patted him on the neck. Silence again stretched between us. With every particle of my body, I wished that he’d say it didn’t matter, that he’d look past all my flaws. Then he’d leap on the back of the horse, put his arms around me, and we’d ride off together into the sunset. Ending credits would roll. Happily ever after.