“It’s about your aunt, Martha Wilder, your mother’s sister. Martha passed away this evening at around 5pm.”
“I’m sorry, are you sure you have the right person? As far as I know, I don’t have an aunt. My mother was an only child.”
The line went silent for a moment. “I knew your mother, Elena Wilder—now Elena Miller.” The brisk businesslike tone of her voice gave way to something softer. “Lanie was a few years older than Martha and me, and she always got stuck babysitting.” She paused. “You sound like her.”
“Like who?” I leaned back into the seat, and stared up at the first stars appearing in the night sky.
“Like Martha.”
“I’m sorry—this is a lot to take in. Why are you calling me with this? Wouldn’t it make more sense to notify my mother. She was her immediate family.”
“Martha gave me clear instructions in the case of her death. I’m to notify you, and only you. I was under the impression that your mother and Martha wanted no contact with each other.”
“That seems kind of strange,” I said.
She paused. “Families are complicated,” she said as if that explained everything.
“Ok, so what do you need from me?”
“I’ll need you to come out here as soon as possible. I can help with the funeral planning, but you’ll need to meet with Martha’s lawyer. Natalie, she left you everything—her home, the Wolf Mountain Lodge, and the eighteen ski trails on the property.”
“Whoa, hold on. You’re telling me I just inherited an entire ski lodge?”
“That’s correct.”
Is this for real? I wondered. This is way weirder than getting offered a free cruise.
“How did she die—my aunt?” I asked.
“I’ll give you all the details when you get here. If you give me your email address, I’ll send you directions to the Wolf Mountain police station. I have the spare key to her cabin as well as all the keys you’ll need for the lodge.”
While she was talking, I’d put her on speaker phone and did an internet search for the Wolf Mountain Lodge. Sure enough, it was owned by a woman named Martha Wilder. Then I did and internet search for Martha and Elena Wilder, and found several school photos of them together from their years that the Wolf Mountain Elementary School.
“I’ll drive up there now,” I said, taking the phone off speaker. I gave her my email address and hung up the phone. While I was waiting for Sheriff Angelina Dempsey’s email to come through, I looked through Martha Wilder’s social media. She was on a couple platforms, and it all seemed to back up the sheriff’s story. I had to admit, she looked a lot like my mom.
Even weirder, I saw that my mom was Facebook friends with Martha Wilder.
When I looked up Sheriff Angela Dempsey, I found several newsarticles from the Wolf Mountain Gazette and the Asheville Times praising her police work in the community.
Then I texted my mom. “Did I have an aunt named Martha who lived in North Carolina?” My mom was probably in bed, so I knew I wouldn’t likely hear from her until tomorrow.
I found the email from Sheriff Dempsey, and typed the police station address into my phone. It matched the one posted on the internet, so it all seemed legit. It didn’t make any of this less weird, but at least this was an actual police station I was going to.
My GPS had me getting there at one in the morning. My energy had dipped after the adrenaline of being dumped faded away, but I could handle four hours of driving. With a few cups of gas station coffee and a pack of gummy bears, I’d be all set for an impromptu road trip. I had my pepper spray in my purse, a fully-charged phone, and a car packed with all my possessions.
Plus, I had the entire week off. A bed and breakfast in Savannah didn’t hold a candle to a big, old ski lodge up in the mountains complete with my very own cabin.
It would have been more crazy not to go, right?
Chapter 4
Most of the drive was through rural landscapes over cracked asphalt and narrow dirt roads that hugged the jagged curves of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Every now and then, I’d pass through one of the tiny mountain towns sprinkled between Georgia and the Carolinas.
About a quarter after midnight, I passed a sign designating this part of Interstate 26 to be a scenic highway. Maybe in the daylight it was scenic, but at midnight, all I could see was ten feet of road peeking out of a thickening fog.
Thankfully, Sheriff Dempsey sent me an incredibly thorough email noting where I’d probably lose phone service, what roads weren’t found on the map, and a few handy tips like, “If you crossover to Tennessee, you’ve gone too far.”
I had to admit, I felt a little uneasy about not being able to contact anyone in the event of my car breaking down or a flat tire. But mostly, I wanted to hear back from my mom. Why hadn’t she told me I had an aunt? What a strange thing to keep from me.
Now that I thought about it, I didn’t know all that much about my mom’s family. I knew “Elena Wilder” was my mom’s maiden name, but for some reason, she’d kept my dad’s name “Miller” even after their messy divorce. I knew my mom had grown up in a Carolina mountain town though she’d never actually told me its name.
And most of all, I knew my mom didn’t like talking about her past.
Eventually, I learned to stop asking.
As I steered onto the exit I was greeted by a sign that read, Welcome to Wolf Mountain. I passed a gas station with an assortment of neon beer signs lightinh up the windows. Beyond that was a dive bar with a couple pickup trucks parked haphazardly on the gravel around the side of the cabin-like structure. Just before the fork in the road, I passed an adorable pink and white building called Lola’s Diner and Bakery. My headlights washed over the storefront as I drove by, illuminating the crafty autumn-themed decorations. Bundles of colored corn hung on the porch pillars. A line of pumpkins marked the gravel walkway leading up to the front door. It was as quaint as something from a Hallmark movie. I made a mental note to see about getting breakfast there the next day. Then I flipped on my turn signal, even though there was absolutely no one around, and took a left at the fork.
The fog got even worse here and I slowed my speed to a crawl. The last thing I wanted was to hit a deer coming around the corner—or a bear, or a mountain lion, or whatever other wild creatures hid in the darkness between the trees.
Up ahead I saw a square-looking building with a pickup truck parked on the land behind the structure. Warm light glowed from the windows of the building, and I saw movement inside. On the other side of the building was a garage. The lights were on in there as well, showing off portions of a shiny read fire truck visible through a row of windows.
The sign over the building read, “Wolf Mountain Fire Department and Police Department”.
One building for all emergency personnel, I thought. Definitely a small town.
I guided my car to the dirt driveway near the garage. I didn’t see any other places to park. Even in the dim light and fog, I noticed that the road was surrounded by a dense forest.
I checked my phone as I slammed the car door shut behind me. Still no service. The loud slam of the car door seemed to echo through the screaming quiet. I started to wonder if maybe I’d been a bit rash driving up here in the middle of the night.
A loud growl rolled out from the darkness accompanied by what sounded like claws scrabbling on loose gravel.
The porch light of the police department flipped on, and I saw what was making the growling noise. Two feisty hounds sprinted toward my car, falling over themselves in their haste like angry shoppers on Black Friday.
Why, oh, why did there have to be dogs? I thought desperately. Fumbling with my car keys, I managed to get back into the car and shut the door just as one of them jumped up by the driver’s side window.
I leaned back in my seat and caught my breath. Scowling, I watched as a big wet dog nose fogged up my window with this animal’s brutish breathing. The other dog sniffed around the front of my car, and to my dis
tain, proceeded to lift his leg and relieve himself on my front right wheel. Typical dogs, I thought. No manners. “I cannot believe I suggested that Grant and I should get a dog,” I muttered to myself. I’d chalk that up to post-breakup insanity.
Then the screen door of the police station swung open and out walked a woman in a tan police uniform. She whistled and the two dogs sprinted back to the porch just as enthusiastically as they’d raced out. “Natalie Miller?” she called.
I eased my car door open, hoping the dogs had lost interest in me. “Hello. Nice to meet you, Sheriff Dempsey.” I waved, feeling a bit awkward.
“Call me Angie.” She held the door open. “Glad you made it. Come on in.”Golden light from inside spilled out onto the dusty doormat. “Don’t let the dogs scare you. They get excited about meeting new people. Doesn’t happen to often.”
“They’re charming.” I returned her smile and stepped into the police station. It was a cozy-looking room with a wood-burning stove that bathed the space in a flickering glow. A large mounted fish hung over a sturdy looking desk.
Metal bars blocked off a the far side of the room, creating a jail cell complete with a cot and a wooden chair. I also noticed a sinister-looking pile of chains coiled on the floor inside the cell. They were bolted to the wall like a dungeon prop in a medieval movie. Those had to be for towing cars or locking up gates. No court of law on earth would allow for those to be used on an actual person. Kind of odd that they were in the jail cell, though. Maybe the cell was being used as storage since there wasn’t much crime in a tiny mountain town like this.
Angie plucked a notebook from one of the many disheveled piles of paper on her desk, and sat down in a creaking swivel chair. “Welcome to Wolf Mountain. I wish we were meeting under different circumstances, but it’s nice to see you all the same. Help yourself to the coffee. It’s about twelve hours old at this point, but it’s hot.”
I glanced at the coffee maker set up on a table across the room and noticed a little boy in flannel pajamas sitting underneath, playing with toy cars. He glanced up from making his cars crash into each other to greet me. “I caught three fishes today,” he proclaimed, proudly holding up three fingers.
“Congratulations,” I said. Next to the boy was a massive heap of black and tan fur that stirred at the sound of the boy’s voice.
I sucked in a breath when the mound of fur lifted his head and regarded me with two yellow eyes. It was the kind of big, meaty dog that you’d expect to see guarding a pile of scrap metal. I was pretty sure I’d seen that dog in the movie The Omen.
“That’s my son, Chris.” the sheriff said. “We went fishing today. Normally he’s now up this late, but there’s been a lot of excitement, as you know.”
“Hello, Chris,” I said politely.
He had the same light blond hair as his mom. “I caught three fishes, Mommy caught two fishes and Uncle Frank didn’t catch any fishes,” Chris informed me.
“That sounds like a fun day,” I said, amused by the little boy’s enthusiasm. “How old are you?”
“Five!” he cheered, his happy blue eyes squinting from his huge smile.
“Chris, Sweetie, Mommy’s almost done with work for the day. Can you bring Miss Natalie Benjamin’s leash?”
Chris pushed himself up on his little legs and found the dog’s red leash that was tangled up on the floor. He clutched the leash with both hands. I was curious to see how that tiny human would be able to rouse such a massive creature, but the dog surprised me by standing up and calmly trotting over to where Sheriff Angie and I were sitting. It was almost as if he understood.
Giggling, Chris ran behind the dog, the leash swinging in the air.
Sheriff Angie took the leash from his hands. “Thank you. Now go pack up your cars. Mommy’s almost done.”
After Chris hurried back to the rug, Angie leaned forward and lowered her voice. “First of all, I’m so sorry for your loss. I know you’ve never met your aunt, but she was a great woman. This whole town will mourn her passing. She loved you very much and always hoped you’d come to Wolf Mountain.
“Thank you. I appreciate you saying that,” I said, not really sure what the appropriate response to that was. “I don’t understand why my mom never told me about her, but I wanted to honor her wishes.”
Sheriff Angie rubbed her thumb and index finger together, lifting the edge of a sheet of paper on her desk. “Your mother and your aunt had a complicated relationship.”
“Apparently.” I clasped my fingers together.
“Now, as for the logistics.” Angie spun the paper she was holding toward me. “Here’s the contact information for Martha’s lawyer. You’ll want to get in touch with her in the next couple days so she can sign over the deed to Martha’s cabin and the other properties you’re inheriting.”
“That sounds good,” I said, scanning the paper. “Maybe she can get me in touch with a real estate lawyer.”
Angie’s mouth tightened. “I imagine she’d be able to do that.” She opened a drawer in her desk and lifted a ring of keys. There must have been about fifteen keys total. “These will get you into Martha’s cabin and the buildings associated with the lodge.” The keys jingled as she dropped them into my hand. “I’ll drive you up there before I head home.” She stood up. “And, of course, here’s Benjamin.” She held the nylon leash out to me.
I recoiled, holding up both hands. “Oh, um, I’m not really a dog person.” And that animal was the doggiest dog I’d ever seen.
She smiled sympathetically. “He comes with the cabin, I’m afraid. Martha was adamant. She insisted on Benjamin going to her niece—you.”
“Can you maybe watch him until I figure out what to do with him? I’ll arrange for him to go to a good home.”
The dog’s gaze moved to me, and his yellow eyes seemed to harden.
“This is what Martha wanted.” Sheriff Angie said firmly, the florescent lights glinting off her shiny badge pinned to her shirt. “Are you really going to deny the last request of the woman who left you everything she owned?”
I shifted uncomfortably in the chair, “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”
A flash of humor sparkled in Angie’s tired eyes. “I’m a mom. I know when it’s time to pull out the big guns.”
I pursed my lips, glancing again at that beast of a dog. “Is he friendly?”
A victorious smile spread across Angie’s face. “Of course, and great with kids. He adores Chris. He’s the unofficial mascot around here. Martha took him everywhere she went—to the lodge, to the bakery. They were inseparable.”
With a sigh, I took the leash, wrapping it around my wrist. “I’m not trying to be difficult. It’s just that he looks like the kind of dog who will rip my face off if I forget to feed him.”
Maybe it was my imagination, but I swore I saw that dog roll his eyes at me.
“He’s a Rottweiler,” she said, as if that made it any better.
“Aren’t those dogs kind of… aggressive?”
“He’s a good dog. You’ll see.” She stood up. “You have my number. If you call the station, the call will get forwarded to my cell. I’ll show you to the cabin. Ida Honeycutt, the lodge manager’s wife changed the sheets and put fresh towels in the cabin earlier when we heard you were coming. You’ll be comfortable there.” She extinguished the stove, and slipped on a leather jacket.
“Does the cabin have a landline? I don’t have cell reception up here.”
“Oh, right,” Angie said. “Martha didn’t have a landline, so you’ll either want to get one or change your service provider for your cell phone if you end up staying. Juniper Tech is pretty much the only service that works up here.”
Fantastic, I thought.
The sheriff gathered up her sleepy-looking toddler and waited for me to lead Benjamin out the door before flipping off the lights and locking up.
I paused before going to my car. “Can the dog ride in your car? It’s just that the seats are leather and I don’t have
any seat covers. I don’t want him to scratch it up.” I was also concerned about him scratching my face off, but I kept that to myself.
She nodded kindly, and accepted the leash. “Sure.”
“Also, I forgot to ask—how did she die? She couldn’t have been that old.”
Angie hitched Chris up higher on her hip. The moonlight seemed to highlight the golden hues in her chin length hair. “She was forty-eight.”
“Was she sick?” I asked.
Angie shook her head. “She was killed by an animal while she was out on a hike. It looks like a bear attack.”
My heart lurched. “That’s terrible. Is that something that happens frequently around here?” I found myself looking over my shoulder at the shadowy forest.
She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated.
Something about her silence made me feel uneasy.
Finally she said, “Wolf Mountain is a very remote area. There are lots of things that can kill you around here.” She lowered the tailgate and patted the metal. The dog responded by leaping gracefully onto the truck bed. “I suggest you stay indoors once the sun goes down, and don’t walk around alone,” she added. “I mean it.”
Chapter 5
“The dog doesn’t sleep inside does he?” I jiggled the key in the lock until I felt the latch turn.
Angie chuckled softly. “That dog is about as spoiled as they come. Martha doted on him.”
As if on cue, the beefy dog breezed by me and my suitcases stacked on the wooden porch.
“Fantastic,” I said, watching as the dog continued into the living room where he hopped onto the sofa, circled twice and plopped down.
I stepped out of my shoes one at a time as I looked around the foyer. The cabin was a lot bigger than it appeared from the outside—which was a good thing. Benjamin would sleep on the first floor and I’d take the upstairs. I turned around to see Sheriff Angie still standing on the welcome mat.
“You can come in if you want,” I said.
She shook her head, her arms full with her sleeping little boy. “I’ve got to get him home. I picked up Benjamin and some of his things earlier today. Then Ida Honeycutt stopped by to get the place ready for you. Other than that, it’s just as Martha left it,” she said. “There are three bedrooms, a loft, a kitchen, a living room, and a basement. The basement door’s got a lock on it. I couldn’t get it open, but I’d bet one of the keys I gave you opens it.”
Carolina Witch Page 2
