“No problem, of course. We don’t have good reception for television stations, but the games should be fine. We also have lots of movies on DVD.”
The boy shrugged and shut the door behind him.
Embarrassed for his father, Janna quickly moved on to the next room and opened the door, then held out the key. “These rooms each have a private bath, and the linens are already stocked. If there’s anything else you need, just holler.”
He accepted the key with a nod of thanks. “We’ll be fine.”
Memories flooded back as she descended the stairs. She’d visited here as a child, when it was a bustling, popular place for families. At the time, it had been managed by the Websters, a congenial older couple, who had always welcomed her with open arms, along with warm cookies and milk.
Those cozy images had sustained her through the recent trials of rapidly packing up the remnants of her married life in Minneapolis and the long, cross-country trip, but the future didn’t seem so rosy now.
Her cursory tour of the place over spring break hadn’t quite prepared her for the truly daunting tasks ahead…or for the fact that someone had been in these buildings not long ago…without permission.
She shivered, recalling the lurid magazines and stash of empty vodka bottles that she’d discovered in Cabin Ten. The empty shotgun casings, and a splattering of faded stains on the floor.
Something had been going on here.
Probably just a group of hunters who’d partied through a drunken weekend, she told herself firmly trying to stop her imagination from running wild with other possibilities.
Whoever those intruders were, they hadn’t been here long ago.
And she would be praying that they never, ever come back.
TWO
“You’re sure you’ll be okay here today?” Michael studied his son over a table laden with fresh fruit, plates of cheddar cheese and ham omelets, and a basket of fragrant, homemade cinnamon rolls. “I can stay home today, if you want. We could go hiking.”
Ian shrugged and continued cutting his food into ever smaller bits. As far as Michael could tell, the boy hadn’t actually eaten a single bite, but at least he’d agreed to come downstairs to the dining room of the lodge.
“Or we could go buy our fishing licenses and start looking for some good trout streams.”
“I’m seventeen, Dad. You don’t need to babysit me.” Ian directed a flat, bored glance at Michael, then started shoving his food into a pile in the center of his plate. “I like being alone.”
It hadn’t always been the case. Before the accident…
Michael closed his eyes briefly, shutting away the wave of guilt and sorrow that often caught him unaware.
At the sound of footsteps, he glanced over his shoulder to find Janna carrying a fresh pot of coffee through the swinging half doors leading into the kitchen.
Her daughter, a pretty little girl who was the image of her mother with long, strawberry-blond hair and a scattering of freckles across her nose, followed her with a heaping bowl of colorful cereal held in both hands. The child took her place at the table and dropped her head in silent prayer.
Yet another way I’ve failed, he thought grimly. Ian had often been angry and sullen since the accident, blaming God and anyone who crossed his path for his problems. Even now he rebelled against simple meal time prayers.
“I thought you might like a little more caffeine,” Janna said. Her gaze drifted to Ian after she topped off Michael’s coffee cup. “Is there something else I can get for you? We’ve got…” She thought for a moment, then nodded toward Rylie, her eyes twinkling. “My daughter’s favorite marshmallow bits cereal. Or leftover pizza.”
His cheeks reddening, Ian shook his head.
She gave Michael a knowing look. “It takes a while to settle in and feel comfortable, I know. Until your cabin is ready, please do join us for all of your meals, and if you get hungry for a snack in between, just track one of us down, okay?”
“Thanks.” Michael cleared his throat and waited until Ian mumbled an awkward thanks, as well. “I’ve got to go into Wolf Creek today to meet with the mayor and town council. Ian is used to being on his own, though.”
“He’ll be fine.” Janna’s silky, strawberry-blond hair drifted against her cheek as she tilted her head and studied the boy thoughtfully. “I’ll bet Rylie would like to show him around. There are lots of hiking trails in the area.”
Rylie bounced in her chair, her ponytail swinging as she looked between Ian and Janna. “I even know where there’s a stream with fish in it, and a cave. We could—”
Ian abruptly stood and pushed his chair away from the table.
“Ian!” His dad said.
“Leave me alone.” Without another word, the boy limped out of the dining room and disappeared into the lobby.
Janna felt a wave of guilt as she watched him leave. “I am so sorry.”
“He’ll be okay.” Michael shook his head slowly.
She saw a flash of grief on his face that he quickly masked with a wry smile. “I didn’t even stop to think…”
“He’s certainly capable of doing some hiking. He’s just very self-conscious.”
She paused, choosing her words carefully. “He…May I ask what happened?”
“A head-on collision.” Setting aside his napkin, Michael rose abruptly, a muscle ticking along the side of his jaw. “Thanks for breakfast, ladies. It was delicious.”
Janna watched him leave, her heart heavy. He clearly wanted to avoid any further questions, and she knew all too well about pain, sorrow and burdens that sometimes seemed too heavy to bear. Sometimes, however, it helped to talk about them.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Rylie breathed. “I didn’t mean to make him feel sad.”
“You didn’t.” Claire strolled into the dining room from the kitchen, a coffee cup in hand. At seventy-three she was still tall, straight and imperious, her leathery skin aged from decades of running a ranch on her own. “What’s done is done, and there’s no use whining about the past. Get over it and move on.”
Words Janna had heard more times than she cared to count during her own childhood. Instead of counting to ten, she said a quick, silent prayer. Please, Lord, give me the patience to deal with what I cannot change…and please, keep her from saying the wrong thing to that poor boy. “Ian wasn’t whining, Mom.”
Claire snorted. “Self-pity never accomplished a thing.” She hovered at the table for a moment, then stalked away. “I’ll be in my room.”
Rylie blinked and swallowed hard. “Now even Grandma’s mad,” she whispered.
“Not at you, sweetheart.”
“Because we moved here?”
“Because she needed to move in with us. Your grandmother is a proud woman, and it’s hard for her to give up her independence.” Janna rose and gave her daughter a hug. “I need to work on Cabin Five today, so Ian and his dad can move in. Maybe you could help me for a while. Later on you could offer Ian some ice cream…or see if he wants to borrow some movies.”
“He doesn’t like me.” Rylie’s lower lip trembled.
“That’s not true at all, sweetie.” Janna gave her a reassuring smile. “He just has some troubles that don’t have anything to do with us, and that makes him sad. Maybe we can help him feel happier, if we try. Okay?”
The bleak expression in Rylie’s eyes made Janna’s heart twist. “That’s what you said about Dad. And it never, ever worked.”
After Rylie’s heartbreaking words about her father, Janna spent an hour playing board games with her and working on a puzzle, then she brought Rylie and her dog out to the fenced playground by the lodge.
Within sight of Cabin Five, it was a pretty little spot in the shade of the tall pines, with a swing set, slides, old-fashioned monkey bars and a huge sandbox with a baby pine tree now growing up through its center.
By midafternoon, Janna had managed to dismantle the rusted iron bed frames in the two bedrooms of Cabin Five and drag them out the ba
ck door, to join the filthy gray mattresses she’d wrestled into a hay wagon hitched to Claire’s pickup.
The pile on the trailer had grown even higher by suppertime—broken chairs, a warped kitchen table and a couple of bedside tables that had been ruined by vermin, water damage and mold over the years.
Now, with the evening sun low in the sky, the last remnants of sunshine flooded through the west windows, highlighting the sparkling haze of dust she’d raised with a vigorous sweeping.
Footsteps crunched on twigs and gravel along the lane in front of the cabin, then someone knocked. The door hinges squealed. “Hello—anyone here?”
Startled by Michael’s deep, masculine voice, Janna spun around toward the door, suddenly all too aware of how dingy the cabin looked right now. She could only imagine what he would think of his new lodgings, but it was too late. “H-hello. I’m afraid this isn’t quite ready for inspection,” she said with a nervous laugh. “But I promise you, it will look entirely different in a few days.”
He stood in the center of the room and looked around, a hint of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “I like it already. Reminds me of a place my uncle had—rustic but comfortable. Looks like it just needs a little dusting and some furniture.”
She had to laugh at that. “You’re sure easy to please.”
“It’s a great cabin.” He braced his hands on a windowsill and stared at the mountains. The sun had slipped behind the peaks now, tinting the clouds in deep rosy hues with golden highlights. “It must be wonderful living here year-round, surrounded by God’s glory. It’s such a peaceful place.”
Surprised and pleased to find that he was a man of faith, she smiled. But peaceful wasn’t the first word that came to her mind—not with all the work to be done. “How did your first day on the job go? Anything wild happening in Wolf Creek?”
He glanced over his shoulder at her, a dimple deepening in his cheek. “Most exciting thing was the council meeting, I guess. They’re concerned about how things are going while Sheriff Brownley is away.”
“Concerned?”
“They needn’t be.” He turned and leaned a shoulder against the wall. Smiled. “With just two young officers on the force, they wanted someone with experience. That’s why they brought me in for a year…though technically a sheriff needs to be elected.”
Janna felt an unexpected flash of disappointment. “So you’re temporary.”
“Possibly. Figured I’d get settled here and work on a fixer-upper house in my spare time, then keep it for vacations or sell at a profit in a few years. The way land prices are escalating, it could be a good investment.” He shrugged. “But there’s a good chance Brownley will opt for early retirement, so you never know.”
From outside came the sound of Ian calling for his dad.
“I think you’re being paged,” Janna said with a smile.
Michael nodded and glanced around the cabin once more on his way to the door. “If you need help, just let me know. I put myself through college working construction.”
“Thanks.” The screen door closed with another squeal, then a murmur of deep voices faded away toward the lodge.
Suddenly feeling weary, she locked the back door, shut the windows and went out to stand on the front porch. Through the pines to the east, she could just make out the cheery lights of the lodge. To the west, the lane leading to the farthest cabins disappeared into the deepening shadows of the mountains. Mountains as familiar and beloved as old friends.
“How could I have stayed away all these years?” she murmured, rubbing her arms against the first hint of evening chill.
Something flickered through the trees past the last cabin. A flashlight?
Surely not.
It had to be a figment of her imagination. Michael and his son had headed for the lodge, and both Claire and Rylie were already inside for the night.
Weren’t they?
She stepped back against the front of the cabin. Stared. Held her breath.
Something moved through the shadows and froze as if sensing discovery. Then it blended into the dusk and disappeared.
THREE
After a restless night of turbulent dreams, Janna awoke to the screeching of a hawk circling low over the lodge and the sound of a truck engine roaring to life. Dazed, she stumbled out of bed to the window and pulled up the shade.
Rivulets of rain on the glass turned the landscape into a watery, abstract image, though she could just make out the tailgate of Michael’s truck disappearing down the lane. Without breakfast, she thought with a stab of guilt. And here it was—she glanced at her bedside clock—seven o’clock.
Shivering, she donned a set of gray sweats and thick socks and headed for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
The scent of fresh brew wafted from the kitchen when she walked in. A note of apology lay on the counter: “Hope you don’t mind—I made myself at home this morning.”
She smiled sadly, wondering what it might have been like to have had a husband like Michael Robertson. Thoughtful. Obviously a steadfast and loving father, who was trying so hard to reach his troubled son.
A man who might have tried harder to make his marriage work and who wouldn’t have drifted away, leaving a heartbroken daughter and unanswered questions in his wake.
Not that she was looking for husband number two, because that was one road she wouldn’t be heading down again.
Her focus now was on the lodge. Her daughter. Keeping her elderly mother safe. And on Sunday, returning to the church home of her childhood…no matter how many eyebrows raised when she walked in the door.
Toenails clicked down the hall, and she looked down to see Maggie amble over and drop at her feet. The dog peered up at her through the fringe of white fur that arched over her eyes. “I suppose you need to go out, but I’ll bet you aren’t going to like it.”
She crossed the kitchen to the back door and let the dog outside.
Maggie had always done a dynamite job of protecting the family from small, fur-bearing marauders—like chipmunks and squirrels that dared venture too close to the house—but she’d taken a cautious live-and-let-live approach with strangers.
She’d never been daring in inclement weather, either, preferring to do her business quickly so she could beg to be let back inside.
Janna straightened up the kitchen, then rubbed a wrist against the foggy window pane in the back door and squinted at the watery landscape. Strange. Where on earth was Maggie?
With all the rain, usually the little dog would have been back by now, desperately scratching at the door.
She opened the door and leaned out to call Maggie’s name.
Nothing moved across the landscape. There was silence, save for the rain tapping on the porch roof and the rustle of leaves jostled by a fitful wind. Scents of wet earth and pine needles drifted inside.
Suddenly a small, bedraggled white form came bounding down the lane past Cabin One. “Good girl! Come on,” Janna called out.
But Maggie didn’t race to the door. She stopped just shy of the porch, then whirled around and bolted back up the lane, amidst a furious, nonstop volley of barking.
A foolish city dog could get in a lot of trouble if she wandered too far, given the coyotes, mountain lions and foxes in the area.
Shivering in the damp cold, Janna stepped out on the porch and hugged herself. “Maggie!”
The dog’s stride didn’t even falter, and a moment later she was out of sight.
Janna pulled on a slicker and a pair of rubber boots, then raced after her, still calling her name. Slipping and sliding on the rain-slickened gravel, Janna passed Cabins One, Two and Three.
Silly dog!
Cabin Four.
Out of breath, now, Janna slowed down. Would Maggie come back on her own? Maybe not—and moving to Wyoming had disrupted Rylie’s life in too many ways to count without chancing the loss of her best friend. “Maggie!”
Cabins Five and Six flashed by.
The s
ound of barking grew louder.
Halfway up the hill to the last four cabins, she bent over with her hands on her knees and caught her breath. Please, Lord. Don’t let anything happen to Rylie’s dog. Please!
And then she saw it.
A shadowy figure perhaps a half mile ahead, moving rapidly away through the trees. In a flash he was gone, but Maggie didn’t follow him. She froze for a split second, stared at the interloper, then veered off into the trees.
Janna followed the sound of her barking to the lip of a ravine beyond Cabin Ten and cautiously peered over the edge, hanging onto a slender birch for support.
Near the bottom Maggie barked furiously at something in the muddy earth. Probably some hapless chipmunk caught away from its burrow.
Janna coaxed. Pleaded. Called her name over and over. Then she finally made the descent, slipping on wet pine needles, tangling in thorny vines, while grabbing at bushes and branches to slow down.
“You are definitely getting a leash,” Janna muttered when she finally made it to the bottom and reached for the muddy dog. Maggie desperately tried to wriggle free of her grasp, her paws peddling wildly. “And you definitely need a bath—”
But then Janna looked down and drew in a sharp breath.
Maggie hadn’t been after a chipmunk at all.
Janna was now alone. Far from the lodge. No one knew she was out here—except for a stranger who might just be a hiker passing through…or who might care very much about what the dog had found.
A stranger who even now could be watching her from the shadows.
With a strangled cry she stumbled backward, the dog clutched at her chest—and stared at the eroded bank of the ravine…
Where Maggie had unearthed a human skull.
Shivering despite her shawl and dry clothes, Janna cradled a cup of coffee in both hands and gratefully absorbed its warmth.
Hard Evidence Page 2
