Sitting on his haunches, he caught his breath and stared at the falls. White water rushed off a rock ledge into a deep pool forty feet below. The pool at the bottom was circular, maybe fifty feet in diameter, and was surrounded by sheer rock walls on three sides. The fourth side opened up to rocky ledges and holes where the water would eventually make its way to the lake. The water looked deep, even though the force of the falls churned up the sediment and turned the entire basin murky. Foam floated on the surface.
Gray-and-black clouds hung low on the horizon, and the air was heavy with a coming storm. He needed to find shelter. On the other side of the ravine, there was an observation deck at the top of the falls. It had wooden steps that led down to a second lower deck and finally to the ground. From there, you could walk to the lake, which was about two hundred yards away. The water from the falls flowed from the pool over a wide section of shallow white water filled with big rocks and narrow pools before it turned and circled around to dump into the lake. The water was fenced off from the public area and several signs proclaimed it DANGEROUS and warned visitors to KEEP OFF THE ROCKS.
But there were no such accommodations on this side of the ravine. He’d have to climb down, cross the white water using the boulders that stuck out of it as stepping-stones, and climb over the safety fence.
He scanned the trail below him. The last twenty feet of the descent were very steep. Could he slide down on his ass? He could use the rope he’d stolen. But once he’d climbed down, how would he get back up if he needed to make a quick escape? He wouldn’t. Rope climbing wasn’t possible with one hand.
He made his way down the first ten feet and looked over the edge. Now that he was closer, he could see that the descent wasn’t as impossible as he’d first thought. The walls of the ravine weren’t completely vertical. They were made up of large sheared-off slabs of rock. Small ledges formed irregular, narrow steps. Weeds sprouted between the rocks. At the bottom, small trees grew in crevices. He tied the rope to a nearby tree trunk and used it as a backup safety measure, winding it loosely around his waist and holding it in his good hand in case he lost his footing. He began his descent, moving painstakingly from foothold to foothold. Ten feet from the bottom, his foot caught in a vine. It snapped under the weight of his body, and he slid down the rock face eighteen inches until he hit the end of the rope. The jolt sent pain shooting through his arm.
He unwound the rope, righted his body, and finished the descent. His weak knees gave out, and he landed in a patch of waist-high weeds. His tailbone rang on impact, but he’d survived. He stood on shaky legs and stared into a small cave.
The cave had been formed by two giant flat-sided rocks leaning on each other. The opening hadn’t been visible from above, but his fall had flattened weeds and dislodged a section of intertwined vines and moss to reveal the entrance. It wasn’t much wider than Evan’s arm span, if he could have held both arms out. He tied the rope to a tree trunk. The tan color blended in with the rocks.
He stuck his head inside the cave. Empty and dry, it extended about ten feet to the base of the rocks. The ground rose slightly in elevation toward the rear. Daylight shone through the top, where the two boulders met. He crawled all the way to the back. Here, the cave ceiling was about four feet high. No one would be able to see him from the outside. When the thunderstorm broke tonight, at least Evan would be able to stay mostly dry. The last thing he needed was another soaking-wet night.
He wanted to lie down and sleep, but instead of resting, he stowed his meager supplies in the cave and took the nylon bag with him as he went looking for firewood.
He had matches. Maybe he could risk a small fire tonight. He didn’t want to be spotted, but the opening at the top of the cave would draw the smoke up like a chimney, and the spray and mist that rose from the waterfall would conceal the smoke as it escaped.
He left the cave, shivering as he passed through the mist. In order to reach the trees, he navigated a series of jagged wet rocks. Water swirled and eddied around them. He moved slowly, placing each foot with extreme care. He had to make several trips across. He filled the nylon bag with dried pine needles and small pieces of bark. He cradled larger logs one by one with his uninjured arm. By the time he’d accumulated a decent stockpile of dry wood, he was exhausted, and it was dark. He finished the bottled water, but it wasn’t enough to quench his thirst. His vision blurred, and he squeezed his eyes closed a few times to clear it. He was dehydrated.
Without some help, Evan doubted he’d survive. The need for water drove him to risk the treacherous trip to the lake in the dark.
Please let Rylee or Jake be at the lake tonight.
Either one of them would surely bring him supplies.
He crossed the water with painstaking care and started down the trail that led to the lake, moving carefully and stopping to listen every few minutes. As he drew closer, voices carried from the beach. He could see the lake. Under the overcast sky, it lay as black and shimmery as an oil slick.
The faint smell of smoke scented the air. More than anything, Evan wanted to go back to the days when getting caught setting an illegal bonfire at the lake was the worst of his worries. His arm burned, and mosquitoes swarmed around him as he crouched behind a fallen tree and scanned the beach. Twenty teenagers sat on the sand, smoking cigarettes in groups and talking. The cops were always chasing the kids off the beach when the kids weren’t doing anything wrong. Why was it illegal to be on the beach after dark?
Evan scanned the gravel parking area. His heart leaped when he saw Rylee’s old car. She was here. She would help him. At least she would bring him water and blankets. He looked for her on the beach and spotted her sitting in the sand. She was hugging her knees and staring into the fire. Kids clustered in small groups around her.
How could he contact her without showing himself to any of the other kids? His gaze swung back to her old Buick. The door lock on the driver’s side was broken, so she never bothered to lock any of the doors, not that anyone would want to steal her POS. The car barely ran.
Crouching, Evan ran toward her car. The effort of the short sprint winded him. He popped his head up to make sure no one was around, then opened the rear door. The dome light seemed as bright as a floodlight as he climbed into the back seat. The door made a squeaking sound as he gently pulled it closed, trying not to make too much noise. The dome light didn’t go out. Panic wormed through his belly. The heavy door hadn’t closed completely. Someone was going to see the light. He quickly opened the door and pulled harder. It shut with a noise that sounded deafening.
Praying that no one on the beach heard or saw him get into the car, Evan huddled in the dark behind the driver’s seat. Minutes passed. Sweat dripped down his back, followed by a cold shiver. His fever was rising again.
Footsteps crunched on gravel. Evan’s pulse spiked. The driver’s door opened with the familiar rusty squeal. He peered around the headrest. Rylee! Relief weakened his muscles.
“Hey,” he whispered.
Rylee startled. Raising her hands in a defensive posture, she turned and stared at him for a second. “Holy shit. You scared me to death.”
He cleared his throat. There was no need to whisper. No one could hear them. “Sorry.”
“Oh, my God, Evan. Are you OK? Where have you been? Everyone is looking for you.”
“I know.” He glanced around. The parking area still looked clear. “No one can find me. But I need help.”
Voices approached.
“Get down out of sight.” Rylee faced forward and lifted her phone, pretending to send a text.
Evan ducked behind the seat.
“OK. It’s cool. They’re gone.” Rylee glanced back at him, her eyebrows scrunched with worry. “You look like shit. Are you hurt? On the news, they said you could have been shot.”
“I was. In the arm. It’s bad.” Somehow, talking about his wound made it hurt more. More dry tears pressured his eyes. “I need help.”
“OK.” Rylee’s jaw
tightened. “What can I do?”
“I need water and a blanket.”
“I can get those.” Rylee nodded.
“I’m pretty sure my arm is infected. Do you have any antibiotics at your house?”
“I don’t know,” Rylee said. “I don’t think so, but I’ll look.”
“Thanks.” Evan couldn’t conceal his disappointment.
Rylee turned to stare between the seats at him. “Seriously, you look bad. Do you want me to contact your mom? She’ll know what to do.”
Evan knew he wouldn’t survive much longer on his own. For a minute, he balanced his own life with placing his mother in potential danger. She’d always told Evan that he was her world.
“You’ll have to be careful.” He gave Rylee his mom’s cell phone number. “I’m sure the police are watching her. They think I killed Paul.”
“I’ll make sure no one is listening before I tell her anything,” Rylee assured him.
Evan leaned his face on the back of the seat. The vinyl was cool against his cheek. “Aren’t you even gonna ask me if I did it?”
“No.” Rylee’s lips curled in anger. “I know you wouldn’t shoot Paul. Anyone who thinks you did is an idiot.”
“Thanks.” Sadness and despair built in Evan’s chest. “I really liked Paul.” The hitch in his voice embarrassed him.
Her expression softened. “I know you did. What I don’t understand is why they think you’re guilty.”
“Because it was a cop who did it. A detective. He had a badge on his belt.”
“Shit. No wonder you don’t want to be found.”
Rylee checked the time on her phone. “I have to get home. My brother has been a real hard-ass about curfew because some asshole neighbor keeps calling CPS for no reason.” She reached for her door handle. “But my brother did set me up with an emergency road kit in my trunk. Let me see what’s in there.”
Evan closed his eyes. Just talking to her made him feel better. Someone believed him. Someone was on his side. Someone he could trust.
She got out of the car and went around to open the trunk. A minute later, she returned with a small black duffel bag in her hand. Closing the car door, she handed the bag over the seat. “There’s a few bottles of water, a space blanket, and a couple of protein bars. If that will get you through the night, I can bring you more supplies tomorrow evening. If I try and sneak out later tonight, my brother will get suspicious. I’ll have to come while he’s at work.”
“Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”
“Dude, you’d do the same for me.”
Evan nodded.
Rylee looked up. “Shit. There’s a cop here. Not a regular police car but an unmarked one. That’s weird.”
Evan lifted his chin to peer over the seat. A dark sedan had stopped at the entrance to the lot. It looked like the same car that he’d seen the night of Paul’s murder. It must be the killer’s car. Terror clenched his throat. “I have to get away.”
Rylee leaned on her steering wheel, her face scrunched in confusion. “He’s just sitting there. Why isn’t he running everyone off the beach?”
“Because he’s looking for me.” Evan’s breathing quickened. “I can’t let him find me.”
“Where are you going to be?”
“There’s a small cave in the ravine on the other side of the falls. It’s hard to see from the top. I’m going to hide there. If you go to the overlook and whistle real loud, I’ll hear you.”
“OK.” Rylee stared through the windshield. “Hold on. A man in a suit just got out of the car. I’ll tell you when he’s not looking.” She popped the plastic cover off the dome light and unscrewed the bulb. “Kids are scattering.”
Evan eased himself onto the seat, bending double to stay out of sight.
“Now,” Rylee said.
Evan slipped out of the car, duffel bag in hand. Adrenaline gave him an energy boost as he weaved his way through the parked cars. Dozens of kids were scattering on the beach. Evan went the other direction, toward the woods. He stumbled into the trees. Hiding behind the trunk of a big pine, he peered around it. The cop was busy asking questions.
He squinted at the man. Was that the man who had killed Paul? He was too far away, and it was too dark to tell. He was too afraid to get any closer, especially since it seemed that he’d gotten away without being seen.
Turning around, he lugged the bag back to the falls. At the crossing, he slung the handles of the duffel bag over his good shoulder and began placing each foot with extreme care. He tested the placement of each foot before transferring his weight. On the third boulder, water gushed over the top. He lost his footing and slipped. He threw his hands forward. His wound went white-hot with agony. He went down on one knee, pain exploding through the bone as it landed on solid rock.
He breathed through the pain. Next to the rock he knelt on, a swirling eddy made a sucking sound, and he was grateful he hadn’t slipped into it.
Evan made the rest of the crossing without incident. When he reached the safety of the cave, he crawled to the rear and curled up in a fetal position. As the blackness took over, he closed his eyes and hoped he didn’t die overnight.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Morgan faced the sheriff over his messy desk, a cup of cold coffee in her hand. “Does the finger belong to Brian Springer?”
At her side, Lance fidgeted, clearly annoyed at being called to Colgate’s office. It was late, and they’d missed bedtime with the kids. Again. Morgan was equally as irritated.
They’d already spent several hours being questioned by the Warren County sheriff, who’d insisted on a summary of their whole case. He’d threatened to lock them up on trespassing charges if they didn’t cooperate. Morgan had argued them out of a breaking and entering charge, but the trespassing was harder. Since they’d discovered body parts, it seemed wiser and more expedient to comply. Neither she nor Lance wanted to spend the evening sitting in a holding cell. Now Colgate wanted them to rehash the entire case.
She was running out of patience. She and Lance were, once again, making up for the inadequacies of his department. The sheriff’s department was understaffed, and Colgate didn’t have the mental or physical energy for an investigation of this magnitude. He looked thoroughly worn out. Unfortunately, Stella had been right about his stubbornness and his pride. His chin was up, and his posture was stiff.
He would never admit his investigation was lacking. Instead, he’d get angry that they’d found a lead in his case.
The sheriff’s chair squeaked as he shifted forward and slammed two fists onto the desk. A giant stack of pink message slips fluttered. “You’re both lucky the Warren County sheriff didn’t lock you both up for breaking and entering.”
“We didn’t break and enter,” Morgan said. “The door was unlocked.”
“Trespassing then.” The sheriff picked up a pen and pointed it at Lance. “Why the hell were you up there anyway? If you had evidence that something happened to Brian, and you didn’t share it with me . . .”
“We had no evidence,” Morgan clarified. “Just a hunch.”
“We were concerned about Deputy Springer.” Lance crossed his arms over his chest.
“The neighbors said Brian talked about going fishing.” Morgan was a terrible liar. So she stuck with the truth and omitted what she didn’t want to share. “But he normally left them a key to feed the cat and bring in the mail. He didn’t do either of those things. Yet no one has seen him.”
The sheriff huffed. “That’s thin. Lots of men like to go camping, fishing, or hunting and get off the radar. Not everyone wants to be available or have a phone attached to his ass 24/7. Brian planned his vacation months ago.”
“Which is exactly why we didn’t call you.” Morgan sipped from the cup. “We didn’t want to waste your time.”
The sheriff tapped his pen on the blotter. “You haven’t explained why you went inside the cabin.”
Technically, their transgression was in the Warren Count
y sheriff’s jurisdiction, and he had eventually accepted their explanation. On the other hand, Brian’s disappearance was Colgate’s business.
Lance answered, his voice flat from repeating the same story multiple times. “We went to the cabin. There was no car parked outside, but we knocked on the door anyway. No one answered. The drag marks I found out back concerned me very much. When I discovered the front door was open, I decided to go in to see if Brian was in any trouble.”
While waiting for the Warren County Sheriff’s Department to respond to their call, Morgan and Lance had agreed on which details they needed to omit from their statement. Morgan might be a terrible liar, but as a trial lawyer, she had mad fact-manipulation-and-omission skills.
“We saw the bloodstains, the overturned chair, and the severed fingers. We called the Warren County sheriff and you.” Morgan lowered her cup. “Frankly, you should be grateful. If we hadn’t entered the cabin, no one would know someone had been tortured there.”
Colgate scowled, then his expression shifted into resignation. “The fingers belong to Brian. We were able to match his prints.”
Lance sat back. “Shit.”
So Brian had been the victim. Could both Paul and Brian have known about another corrupt deputy? Was there another person involved they hadn’t even identified yet? On the bright side, the discovery of Brian Springer’s fingers made Evan look less like Paul’s killer.
“Have you found criminals Paul arrested who might want revenge?” Morgan asked.
“No.” The sheriff shook his head.
“What about Sam Jones?” Morgan asked.
The sheriff stared at her. “How did you find out about him?”
She didn’t answer. “Did Brian beat Mr. Jones? Did Mr. Jones hold a grudge?”
“The case was minor.” The sheriff exhaled loudly. “Jones disappeared as soon as he was released. I doubt very much he came back to take his revenge.”
Secrets Never Die Page 19
