by Jen Blood
“So, if you don’t think Albie did it, who do you think killed Nancy? You said ‘him’ before. Clearly, you have a theory.”
“I’ve already talked to the police about my suspicions,” Barbara said uncomfortably. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea talking to you about them. It might end up causing some issues for you.”
Jack couldn’t hide his surprise. “For me? How would it cause issues for me?”
“I know you and Jamie are…close.”
“Jamie Flint? Well, yes. We’re friends,” Jack said carefully. “I don’t see how whatever you have to tell me could have any impact on that, though. Unless you’re telling me Jamie did this?”
“Not Jamie,” she said. She bit her lip, clearly conflicted. Finally, she sighed. “Jamie’s son, Bear. He was there two nights ago. Late. Fighting with Nancy.”
Jack felt something thick and unsavory drop in his stomach. “Are you sure about that? What time?”
“After midnight,” she said. If there was any uncertainty, she was doing a good job hiding it. “I saw him there. They were fighting on the front steps—I went out because her dogs were going crazy, and I was trying to get some sleep.”
“Did you see any kind of physical altercation?” he asked. “Something that would make you think Bear could have done something to her?”
“I just saw them screaming at each other,” she admitted. “He followed her inside the house and they were still yelling, but I figured they’d work it out one way or another. I never imagined he might actually hurt her. If anything, I was more afraid for him.”
Jack nodded, at a total loss as to how to respond to this information. He needed to talk to Jamie. And Bear—who was, after all, his client. What the hell had the kid been thinking, going over there that night? And what was he playing at, hiring Jack to find out what happened? He had to know Jack would find out about his late-night visit.
“Whatever happened to Nancy has nothing to do with the case I want to hire you for,” Barbara said, when he’d been silent too long. There was a note of panic in her voice. “I know there might be some challenge with your other case, figuring out who killed Nancy. But this is about my husband.” She got herself under control again and drew herself up straighter. “Can you take my case or not?”
Mind whirling, he took another few seconds to consider. She was right: Nancy may have had something to do with Barbara’s husband’s disappearance, but it was far more likely that there was no link there at all. Finally, he nodded.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll take the case. If it turns out that a conflict between this and my other client’s case arises, we may need to talk again.”
“That’s fair,” Barbara agreed. She stood. “Now, if you don’t mind, Julie is waiting for me. Whatever I need to sign or whatever retainer you need, just let me know.”
“I’d actually like to start by asking you a few more questions. I’ll need to get numbers for the people your husband worked for, and anyone else you think may be helpful.”
“Whatever you need,” Barbara said readily. “Honestly, I can’t tell you how relieved I am. For the first time, I feel like there’s some hope.”
Jack shifted uncomfortably. “I just don’t want you to get your expectations too high. Resolutions to cases like this aren’t always what the client is hoping for.”
Barbara looked at him steadily, gaze unwavering. “I’m not a fool, Mr. Juarez. There is no best-case scenario here. I’m well aware of that. My husband is either dead, or he walked out on me and my daughter. Frankly, I’m not sure which would be worse. Either way, it doesn’t seem a happy ending is in the cards for us. I just want to know one way or the other.”
Jack nodded. He extended his hand, meeting her gaze. “Then it sounds like we have a deal. I’ll start this afternoon.”
Chapter 11
ALBIE’S LAST SIGHTING was actually at the entrance to Maiden’s Cliff, a hiking trail on the western edge of Camden Hills State Park. The turnoff comes just at the crest of a hill that looks like you’ve reached the end of the world and are about to drop into the abyss beyond. Monty turned the van onto the steep dirt drive and stopped the engine when a police officer gave us the signal.
In the back of the van, Phantom, Casper, and Monty’s dog—Granger—all took up barking at the same time as Monty rolled down his window. I called back for them to hush, and all but Casper fell silent. It took Bear’s command before the pit bull managed to settle himself.
“You’re here to join the search?” the officer asked. The FLINT K-9 SEARCH AND RESCUE logo emblazoned on the side of our van seemed to me to be more than enough evidence of this, but who was I to judge.
“That’s right,” Monty agreed. “We got orders to show up at eight o’clock sharp to get some search time in before the day gets too hot for the dogs.”
The officer consulted a sheet of paper pinned to a clipboard, then nodded. “Sure, go on ahead. There’s still some parking up there. We’re just trying to keep hikers out of the way for the search.”
“Any luck so far?” Monty asked, echoing the same question I’d been thinking.
“Not that I’ve heard,” the officer said. “Nobody’s sweating too much about it right now. A grown man in this kind of weather, tooling around from town to town before he takes to the woods… I guess we’ll catch up with him eventually. Seems like kind of a waste to have this much manpower out here, if you want my opinion.”
Monty kind of grunted, and I refrained from making any comments myself. It was true that Albie was physically an adult, but his cognitive challenges combined with whatever trauma he’d experienced the night Nancy died hardly made his safety a guarantee.
The officer stepped out of the way, and Monty drove up the steep incline and found a parking space close to the entrance to the hiking trail. A group of searchers was just emerging from the woods when we stopped the van. I recognized Fred Davis, looking more haggard than he had the night before. He was with Sheriff Finnegan, as well as Nancy’s neighbor Hank and Barbara Monroe’s daughter Julie.
I got out to check in with Sheriff Finnegan, Bear close behind. Meanwhile, Monty remained with the van getting our gear together and prepping the dogs.
It was still cool out, though the sun was fully up and I knew things would heat up fast. I took a breath and soaked in the world around me, reveling in the peace for a few seconds.
“Glad you could make it,” Sheriff Finnegan said, coming around to my side as I faced into the woods. “Maybe you’ll have better luck once you get the dogs on the trail.”
“No joy for you guys, then?” I asked, turning to face the sheriff. Fred, Hank, and Julie joined us, while Bear hung back by himself.
“He was definitely here,” Fred said. He produced a bit of colorful plastic, and I looked closer. A Scooby Doo Pez dispenser. “He collects these damn things. Probably has two hundred in the house there.”
I didn’t point out that a lot of other people also collect Pez dispensers—it was hardly guaranteed that this belonged to Albie.
“Any idea why he would have chosen to come here?” I asked instead. Julie drifted away from us, motioning to Bear. Despite the chill of the early-morning air, she wore khaki shorts just past her skinny behind and a tank top that left her flat stomach exposed. Her blond hair was in a ponytail, topped by a Red Sox baseball hat. God, I missed Ren.
“We came camping out here a couple times back in high school,” the sheriff said, answering my question. “That’s the only thing I can think of.”
“That would be enough,” Hank said. “He still talks about those camping trips. If he’s going back to the few good memories he has outside of his mother, that would make sense.”
“When was he last seen?” I asked. I was doing my best to ignore the conversation Bear was now having with Julie, which appeared to be getting heated. She faced off against him, jaw set. Bear looked like he was in way over his head.
“The couple who picked him up left him here last night,
” the sheriff said with a grimace. “They’re not from around here, weren’t paying attention to the local news. They saw somebody down on his luck and figured they’d do a good deed.”
“They must have been nuts to think that was a good idea,” Hank said. “Albie’s scary as hell on his best day—no offense, Fred,” he said apologetically. Fred shrugged, conceding the point. “After what he’s been through, I can’t imagine what kind of shape he’s in.”
“The wife wasn’t happy about it, apparently,” Sheriff Finnegan agreed. “And she was fit to be tied once she realized who they’d had riding with them.”
“Why don’t you just say what you mean?” Julie said suddenly, loud enough for everyone to hear. I thought for a moment that she was adding to our conversation, but at the look on Bear’s face, realized quickly that they were immersed in their own little drama. Bear blushed, saying something to her that was too low to be heard from where I was standing.
Apparently his response made no impression on Julie, however. She made a face, hissed something unflattering to him that I couldn’t quite make out, and flounced away to rejoin us.
Sheriff Finnegan raised his eyebrows in my direction, but I was just as clueless as he was. I shrugged.
“Well, anyway,” the sheriff said, “we’d best get you out there while things are still cool. It’s supposed to top ninety today—no way those dogs should be out there once the sun is full up. You sure they’ll be okay now?”
“I’ll keep an eye on them,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. We have plenty of water, and we’ll take breaks. By noon, we’ll have to pull them out of the field for a few hours, until things cool off again.”
“Do what you need to,” the sheriff said. “You know this business just as well as I do, if not better. I’ve got faith.”
“We ready or what?” Monty asked, joining us with all three dogs in tow. They were all leashed, though Phantom was taking to that more kindly than Casper or Granger. Granger was a lanky mix of Catahoula leopard dog and hound that Monty had only been working with for the past year or so, but the dog had a heck of a nose on him.
I took Phantom’s leash, and Bear got hold of Casper. The pit bull wound himself around Bear’s legs, tail whipping wildly, mouth open in a wide, panting grin and his body wound tight. Ready to work, in other words. Phantom took her place by my side silently. A bystander would have no idea she was the least bit worked up, but I could tell by the way she held her head and tail—ears and tail up, the slightest tension in her aging body. She was just as ready to hit the trail as the younger pups were, she just had a little more dignity about it. I got the rush that always comes at the prospect of another search, and felt myself settling into the center once more.
“Where does Lee want us?” I asked Sheriff Finnegan. “Are we sticking with established trails, or thinking he’ll head farther out?”
“He’s not in great shape,” Fred pointed out. “And he’s always worried about falling, so I told Sheriff Finnegan I don’t think he’d go too far from the trail.”
“But you guys just walked the trail, right?” Bear asked. “It’s not like there are that many places for him to hide—it’s a pretty straight shot up the mountain.”
“True,” Sheriff Finnegan said. “But there’s always the chance he got spooked and headed farther into the woods. A person who doesn’t have Albie’s…” he paused “…challenges is hard enough to figure out. Who knows how Albie might react.”
“Forget getting off the trail, I still can’t believe he would have stayed out here all night,” Julie said. I looked at her, surprised.
“Why’s that?”
“Albie hates the dark. He always has to sleep with the light on. Nancy was always making fun of him for it. You seriously think he would survive out here all alone without totally freaking out?”
“People have done a lot more out-of-character things than spend a warm summer night on an easy trail in the Maine woods when they’re backed into a corner,” Hank said. “To be honest, maybe this time’s doing him some good. Giving him a little space to get his head together.”
Fred frowned. “My brother isn’t some college kid who just went through a bad breakup. Emotionally, he’s still thirteen years old, and my mother was his entire life.”
“Yeah, I know, Freddy,” Hank said, suddenly terse. He lingered over the Freddy, and it sounded like a slur in the stillness. “You forget, I was there. I saw the dynamic between the two of them a lot more than you did the last couple of years—”
“And on that note,” Sheriff Finnegan interceded, “why don’t you and your team head on up, Jamie? I’ve been going all night, so I’m going to sit this one out—as are Fred and the others here. Give me a shout if there’s anything you need.”
I assured him we would do that, and was relieved when he herded Hank, Julie, and Fred to their respective cars. I noted with interest that Julie was riding with Fred, and made a mental note to find out a bit more about the man’s relationship with Julie’s mother.
“How do you want to run it, boss?” Monty asked, once it was just us and the dogs again.
“Let’s split it into quadrants. They might think Albie would stick to the trail, but we have no evidence of that. I don’t want to risk it. Bear—”
“Not the trail,” he said immediately. “Please?” To his credit, he did manage to keep his tone even—affable, in fact. “I always get the trail. Instead, how about Casper and I do the rockier outcroppings?”
“You okay with that?” I asked Monty.
“Let the kid do the mountain goating. I’m good with the south corner, see what we come up with there.”
“Then it’s settled. Check-in every hour, and let’s say we meet at the top of Maiden’s Cliff, at the cross?”
With route and schedule determined, we parted ways at the head of the trail. I took a centering breath as I watched Monty and Bear take off in separate directions, their dogs leading the way.
“Ready, Phan?” I said. Phantom’s tail waved slightly in acknowledgment. I got out the scent article Fred had provided—this time, an old bandanna that was considerably less offensive than the jockey shorts we’d had yesterday—and Phantom poked at it. Breathed it in. And then, she whined. For the first time, she pulled at the lead. I made sure my handheld GPS was working and synced the device with her collar, and unsnapped the leash.
“All right, girl. Let’s do this. Find him, Phantom!”
#
In hiking terms, Maiden’s Cliff is what’s known as a moderate trail, gaining about eight hundred feet in elevation over the course of a single mile. In spring, it runs along a clear stream, the result of runoff from the snow at the mountaintop. This had been a hot, dry summer, however, and now there wasn’t a drop to be seen in any direction.
I followed close behind Phantom, the dog content to stick to the trail and in no particular hurry while she waited to pick up the scent. The relatively warm night air meant scent particles would hover above the ground, since scent rises with the temperature. On cold days, molecules accumulate at ground level and stay there—that’s the reason trash smells worse in higher temps while it’s barely noticeable in the dead of winter.
As though clear on the science, Phantom kept her nose up most of the time, nostrils quivering as she searched for the scent. Every few minutes, she would raise her head, ears pricked, tuned in to a thousand things I was virtually oblivious to. Meanwhile, I followed behind with growing frustration. If he’d been here, someone should have picked up the scent by now.
We came across a fat porcupine who ambled carelessly across the path, seemingly unconcerned about Phantom’s presence. I watched as the spiny behind disappeared into the bushes, charmed despite myself. As a dog handler, I’m well acquainted with the torment of a good quilling. Currently, Casper held the record, with three porcupine crossings in a single summer. As an animal lover, however, I’ve always had a soft spot for the intelligent eyes and almost puckish personality of the young ’pines. We�
��d rehabilitated more than one orphaned or injured porcupette, and my memories of the prickly little pups were always fond.
We kept on.
An hour and a half in, after taking several side trips when it seemed Phantom had taken an interest, we reached the old steel cross that marked the crest of the Maiden’s Cliff trail. More than a hundred and fifty years before, in 1864, a twelve-year-old girl named Elenora fell to her death from that very spot, supposedly trying to retrieve her hat after it blew off in the wind. It was said that the girl haunted the mountain to this day, though Bear had said more than once that he’d seen no sign of the girl.
Now, I stood a couple of feet back from the ledge, looking down over Lake Megunticook far below. Had Albie come out here? Terrified and alone, seeking some connection to the distant past he remembered so fondly, had he stood in this spot?
I looked down, and fought a wave of vertigo.
There was no safety railing, no rope cordoning off the precipice. If he had fallen, would I sense that now?
If he had jumped?
Stillness fell around us. An eagle soared over the lake, looking for a likely meal. My chest had loosened, tension lessened with the hike, but now I sensed a change in the air.
Something waiting for me.
I swallowed past the fear, bracing myself, but when the pain struck this time it was so sharp, so violent, that it felt like I’d been broadsided. I went down to my knees, stomach lurching, while the blue sea miles below seemed to race to meet me.
Jump, James, Brock said to me. We can meet on the other side.
Light exploded in my head. I felt, sensed, Phantom in front of me, her body blocking me from the ledge until I could regain my senses.
And then, it all went away.
Well—all but the pain.
But the lights, the voice, the tension… All of that receded on the wind. I was left still on my knees, one hand on the ground to brace myself.
