Hard Evidence

by Roxanne Rustand

  “A party?” Stunned, she thought back to the noises she’d heard earlier tonight. There’d been no music. No sounds of voices and laughter. And who on earth would hike this far from the main highway for something like that? A sudden thought hit her. “You said pizza boxes. No beverages containers?”

  He canted his head. “Exactly. No beer cans or empty liquor bottles. No pop cans. No paper cups.”

  “But then why—” she took a deep breath. “It was bait.”

  “And it worked. There are bears all over these mountains, and they’ve got an amazing sense of smell. They love to congregate at landfills.

  “At least one must’ve followed the scent of that pizza and wasn’t afraid to walk right in the open door of an empty, isolated cabin. Someone probably tossed leftover pieces of pizza all over, because the furniture is torn up, and some cupboard doors are hanging loose. The window screens are torn…even the refrigerator is tipped over. I’d say its door is twisted beyond repair.”

  She sank into the porch swing and took a shaky breath. “This is just crazy.”

  He pulled up a chair and sat in front of her, his eyes dark and somber as he took her hand between both of his. “There was something else, too, Janna, and I’d say it’s a clear warning. Someone shot a coyote and dragged it inside. There’s blood all over the floor. I’ll bring the other officers out here at daylight, and we’ll comb the area for clues.”

  Her stomach tightened into a painful knot. “But why would anyone go to all this trouble, when he could’ve—” she swallowed hard “—just broken into the lodge and come after us?”

  “Think about it. Someone has been out here searching for something. Probably the killer, afraid he left evidence behind. Afraid it’ll be found, now that the lodge is reopening and more people will be here.”

  “Those new holes being dug out in the woods. The guy lurking around your cabin. But my mother’s tires—”

  “Logically, not a coincidence. He’s escalating. First the tires and now this—he probably hopes to scare you away. If you give up on opening the lodge, he doesn’t have to worry.”

  “‘Escalating’ suddenly sounds like a very bad word.” She tried to calm her erratic heartbeat. “Maybe you should take Ian and move into that house of yours in town. Even if it isn’t ready, it’s still safer than here.”

  “But without plumbing or electricity,” Michael said with a wry smile. “I do want Ian to be with you at the lodge when I’m not here, though—until we figure out who’s doing this.”

  “There’s the guy I glimpsed in the woods.”

  “A strong possibility.”

  “The man in town who threatened me, a few weeks ago.”

  “True.”

  “Or…it could just be a bunch of teenagers, on a lark—getting their jollies from trying to scare someone.”

  Michael hesitated on that one. “I doubt it, but I’ve already got my deputies asking questions around town, and I’ll be following up on that, as well.”

  A chill of fear made her shiver. She turned sharply and discovered Claire standing in the shadows just beyond the porch steps. Watching them.

  “Mom,” she said faintly. “I didn’t hear you come out.”

  “I went for a walk,” Claire snapped. “Went out the other door, not that it’s a concern of yours.”

  “Oh, Mom—this isn’t a good time for you to be wandering in the dark. Please, go inside.”

  Claire snorted. “You’re the one who’s worried, not me. No one messes with the McAllisters around here.”

  Michael’s eyes were deep with understanding when Janna looked up and caught his gaze. They both knew there would be no way to convince Claire of anything else, and trying would just start another argument.

  “By the way,” Claire added. “I want to know what fool threatened you.”

  Janna hesitated, but Michael nodded in encouragement. “A middle-aged guy. Tall and lean, dressed like a ranch hand. Had a low, mean tone in his voice.”

  Claire didn’t miss a beat. “Square jaw. Crooked nose.”

  Janna nodded.

  “And dumb as an ox.” Claire made a sound of disgust as she came up the porch steps. “Lowell Haskins. Hired him on as a foreman—fired him six months later and warned him to never set foot on this place again.”

  “Wh-what did he do?”

  “I told you before, I never put up with boozers or brawlers, and he was both. He fought with some cowboy at a street dance and sent the guy to the hospital. Over some floozy, I heard.”

  “Did he serve time?”

  “The guy wouldn’t press charges, and the fool sheriff let him go.” Claire’s voice conveyed satisfaction. “But I made sure Lowell paid his dues. There wasn’t anyone in the county who’d hire him after that.”

  Janna waited until Claire went back inside, then shook her head. “That’s certainly good news. My mother made a lifelong enemy of a man known for drinking and violence.”

  “Though in her world, she did what she thought was right to protect her fellow ranchers. That took courage.”

  “I…suppose that’s true.”

  Michael smiled, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. “And now we have the name of a potential suspect. Tomorrow, I can start checking on where Lowell was this evening. I’ll also check the alibis of any teens who’ve been troublemakers in the past, too—just to make sure tonight’s incident wasn’t just some teenage prank. Who knows? Maybe your problems are nearly over.”

  “Oh, Mrs. McAllister,” Lauren breathed, surveying the damage in Cabin Ten. Stepping farther inside, she scooped back her long, straight black hair and stared at the torn mattresses and ripped screens. “This is awful!” Her eyes dropped to the dark, still-damp areas on the floor and one wall. “And what is that?”

  It was only fair to tell her. As a new employee, she needed to know exactly what risks she might face. Her eyes widened when Janna told her about all that had been happening at the lodge.

  “I took care of the coyote blood yesterday,” Janna said quietly. “With gloves, detergent and a strong bleach solution.”

  Lauren shivered. “Wow.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to get back in here until today, but this is my next project.” Janna watched her expression closely. “If you have any hesitation about working here, there’ll be no hard feelings whatsoever. I’ll pay you for a full day’s work today, even if you leave right now.”

  She needn’t have worried. The girl was seventeen, still filled with youthful energy and a certain amount of naiveté.

  “I think it sounds exciting,” Lauren exclaimed. “And anyway, the cops will catch the bad guys before long.”

  Janna smothered a smile. “I can’t guarantee it—but you’ll be here during the day, at any rate, and broad daylight ought to be pretty quiet.”

  “So I’ll be mostly helping you clean up the place, then?”

  “Just for now. I’ve got to get all of the cabins open and ready for guests. After that, I’ll need you as a cabin maid, and for watching over the place if I have to run errands. My mother—” Janna hesitated “—is older, so I hate to leave her alone. I’ve also got a nine-year-old daughter. With you here, I can start riding again. I love the solitude, but haven’t dared leave without someone else here.”

  “Cool. So where do I start?” Before Janna could even answer, Lauren strode into the first bedroom and eyed the stained, ripped mattress. “Eeeeuw! Right here, I think. Can you help me lug this thing out?”

  Janna caught up with her and gingerly took the other end. “There might be mice,” she warned.

  “Raised ’em for my snakes when I was in high school. Not a problem.” Their eyes met, and Lauren broke into laughter. “Um, that usually isn’t a big selling point on a date.”

  The past two weeks had been harder than Janna had even realized, but now she felt some of that weight lift from her shoulders. “You are definitely the right girl for this job, Lauren. Welcome to Snow Canyon!”

  ELEVEN />
  His law enforcement duties drew him to all locations of the county, but Michael’s heart was back at Wolf Creek—where someone still threatened the safety of Janna and her family.

  The fact that he hadn’t been able to make much progress on the case burned like fire in his gut and kept him awake at night.

  Since the vandalism at the cabin on Monday, he’d spent every spare moment questioning people about Lowell Haskins, and asking about any local high school guys who might belong to the most-likely-to-offend crowd. He stayed out late at night, watching for the elusive stranger Janna had seen out in the woods.

  So far he’d hit nothing but dead ends.

  He’d found no more evidence of digging out in the woods, and had seen no one lurking out there. By Wednesday he’d been able to talk to four hulking Wolf Creek area high school seniors who’d all been in minor trouble over the years, but every one of them had been over in Salt Grass for the stock car races on Sunday night, in school on Monday, and had family or job alibis on Monday evening.

  Fifteen minutes ago he’d received a call from one of his deputies, who’d seen Lowell Haskins walking into a tavern outside of town. Michael had turned it into a hot call—lights and sirens until just a mile away—to make sure he got there in time.

  He didn’t have to worry.

  The place was dark. Smoky. Lit mostly by the faint, fluorescent glow of the beer signs hanging over the bar. Even at three in the afternoon it smelled of stale beer, sweat and desperation.

  A couple of scrawny, unshaven guys sat alone, their forearms resting on the tables in front of them, nursing bottles of cheap whiskey.

  Two others sat at the bar. Neither of them turned around at the harsh flood of sunlight that poured in when Michael opened the door. The bartender did a double take at his uniform and took a half step back, his hands raised in the universal gesture for I-don’t-want-any-trouble.

  Michael zeroed in on the guy at the left with thinning salt-and-pepper hair and wrinkled, sun-cured skin at the back of his neck. “Lowell?”

  The bartender nodded and moved to the far end of the bar.

  Lowell met Michael’s eyes in the mirror behind a row of liquor bottles and beer taps on the back wall. He sat rock still for a few moments. Then he took a long draw on his cigarette and flicked the ashes into an overflowing ashtray in front of him.

  He turned slowly. “I done nothing wrong.”

  “Didn’t say you did. I just have a few questions.”

  Lowell studied him, his eyes narrowed. “You’re the cop who’s in with the McAllisters.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Gotta be interesting living out at ol’ lady McAllister’s place.” His mouth twisted. “Those daughters of hers are lookers, but she’s a piece of work.”

  “I understand you were a foreman out there.”

  Lowell turned back to the glass in front of him and downed it in one long swallow. “Yeah. Big mistake.”

  “Good job?”

  “Like I said, big mistake.”

  Michael hooked a boot on the foot rail and rested an elbow on the bar. Bared his teeth in a smile. “Work around here?”

  Only a single twitch of the man’s eyelid hinted at his sudden tension. “You probably know the answer to that already, deppity.”

  “Maybe I don’t believe everything I hear.”

  Lowell’s gaze slid away. “I do odd jobs—when I can get ’em.”

  “Were you in this county during the last few weeks?”

  “Now and then.”

  Michael’s interest ratcheted up another notch. “Here—as in Wolf Creek?”

  A brief tip of the head. “Carson Ranch, a few days working calves. Before that, over in Harris County.”

  “What about Sunday and Monday?”

  Lowell’s hand tightened around his glass. “Why?”

  “Curious.”

  Lowell swung around on his bar stool and cursed. “I cain’t see you coming all the way out here to ask if I was havin’a nice time. Is this where I oughta ask for a lawyer?”

  Michael shrugged affably. “Seemed like a pretty easy question, unless you were someplace you shouldn’t have been.”

  The following silence was laden with resentment and simmering anger.

  “My dad’s place,” Lowell finally bit out. “I was there, okay?”

  “Both nights?”

  “Ask him. Harvey Haskins—owns the trailer court south of town two miles. Lives in the blue-and-white, back row.”

  “Thanks. I just might.” Michael nodded to the bartender lingering at the far end of the bar and turned to leave, but stopped and looked over his shoulder at Lowell. “When was the last time you were on McAllister land?”

  Lowell stiffened. “Four, five years…unless I maybe wandered over the line while hunting.”

  “Thanks.” Michael strode out into the sunshine, welcoming the fresh, clean air.

  It wouldn’t take Lowell a minute to call his father and warn him about what to say, but the trip wouldn’t be a waste of time. What a guy tried to hide was often there in the uneasy flicker of his gaze. The subtle tension. Nuances in his voice and a hesitation in his answers.

  And Lowell had certainly telegraphed fear from the moment he saw a uniform come into the bar.

  Michael had driven by the trailer park many times. He’d figured that sooner or later his job would bring him to this place in the dark of night on a domestic-abuse call. A shooting. Drugs.

  There was a pretty trailer park tucked into the pines on the other side of town, where the residents had planted flowers, put up little white fences around their plots and all but waxed and polished the lane meandering through the property.

  This park, on the other hand, was the kind of place where trailers came to die. A boneyard of rusted, crumbling 1960s models, where trash accumulated everywhere but in the Dumpsters, and old men in dirty undershirts sat on their stoops sucking on cigarette stubs.

  But no one sat on the steps of the blue-and-white in the back row.

  Michael stood to one side and rapped on the door. Waited a minute, then rapped again. “Anyone home?”

  A long silence, then a harsh, wheezy cough.

  He unsnapped the safety strap over the butt of his gun.

  “Sir, are you okay? Can I come in?”

  At a mumbled reply, he eased the door open with caution born of far too many years in homicide. The horizontal blinds were all drawn, leaving just razor-thin blades of sunlight to cut through the haze of cigarette smoke.

  It took a second for Michael’s eyes to adjust. Longer to force himself to step inside and breathe the stale air.

  Unshaven male. Easily one-ninety to two hundred pounds. Late seventies. Balding. A stained T-shirt stretched across his massive, protruding stomach. Oxygen tubing dangled from the prongs in his nose.

  “Maybe not a good idea to be smoking with that oxygen,” Michael said mildly.

  The man uttered a single curse. “Look around and tell me why I should care.” His voice was breathy, and the effort sent him into a round of heavy coughing.

  Emphysema, Michael guessed. A healthy lifestyle apparently wasn’t a priority in the Haskins clan. “Do you have anyone from the county doing home visits here?”

  “Got no need. Don’t want nobody comin’ in here.” Harvey’s gaze sharpened, though he had to draw in a couple of deeper breaths before trying to speak again. “What do you want?”

  “I just wondered when you last saw your son, Lowell.”

  Harvey leaned forward in his recliner, his eyes widening in alarm. “Is he all right?”

  “Downing whiskey at a tavern an hour ago. I’m not sure if you’d consider that ‘all right,’ since it was before noon.” Michael glanced at the dirty dishes piled in the sink. Beer cans overflowing a trash can. No land or cell phone in sight. “I just need to know when he was here last, and for how long.”

  Harvey sank back into his chair, his breathing labored. “Dunno. All weekend, I guess. He comes and goes.
”

  “He’s out at night?”

  “Stays in, when he’s here.” A dull flush crept up the man’s wattled neck. “Helps me…if I have to get to the can.”

  “Can you phone him whenever you need him to stay with you?”

  Harvey snorted. “Could if I had a phone.”

  “Just one last thing. What do you know about the McAllisters?”

  Anger flashed in the old man’s eyes. “Liars, every one of ’em.” He raised his hand and made a sweeping gesture around his cramped trailer. “Weren’t for them, Lowell woulda had a good job all these years. He’d own a decent place and I’d be with him, not in this sewer.”

  “What happened?”

  “Claire McAllister.” He spat out the name as if it tasted vile. “Get on the wrong side of her, and you can kiss your life goodbye. No one in the county would hire Lowell permanent, after what she said about him.”

  Exactly what she’d admitted doing. “So why didn’t he move on?”

  “I can’t sell the trailer—couldn’t ever git it up to code.” Harvey’s eyes glistened. “He stayed around to help me, I guess. But that just means we’ll both die poor.”

  Michael had wanted to bring Janna good news. Frustrated, he pulled to a stop by his cabin but stayed in the car, the door open and one wrist draped over the wheel.

  He’d seen nothing but honest anger and bitterness in Harvey’s eyes. Today’s investigation didn’t eliminate Lowell as a suspect, but it did put him lower on the list.

  A phone call to the county health department put Harvey on a list as well.

  His living conditions were deplorable, his health precarious. The county’s visiting nurses would be paying him a visit in a few days to assess him as an older adult in need of assistance, so he could get the help he needed.

  Michael sighed as he stepped out of the car. There was something missing—some piece to this puzzle that was still eluding him.

  Janna called his name, and he turned to find her coming up the lane with an armload of linens.