by Karen Harper
“At least,” Drew whispered as he walked her toward Cassie’s truck for a ride home, “there were no claw marks on Beth’s cheeks, and her head trauma could be from the fall. We’ll see what Coroner Merriman comes up with. Lately, he’s earning his salary around here.”
Exhausted and emotionally drained, she nodded. The coroner and the paramedic team—the same people who had carried out her mother’s body—had just brought Beth’s corpse up from the ledge. Scribbling notes, Drew had questioned Cassie and Tyler separately.
“Anyway,” Jessie said, “if this is foul play, we can exonerate Peter. Not only was he miles away but with us. Of course, with his money and local influence, he could have someone who knows this area doing his dirty work.”
“Yeah,” Drew muttered, “such as Junior Semple. Maybe he already had ties to Peter. Maybe Peter was the one who provided him with those poison gas sticks. The two of them could have made a deal beyond the sang when Peter bailed him out in Highboro. Junior’s wife’s even saying now that she doesn’t know where he is, so he’d need some funds to hide out. I may stake his place out to see if he’s sneaking home at night.”
“Peter might have viewed Beth as a competitor for Deep Down sang. She didn’t only want the ad shot near Deep Down, but the product’s slogan was tied to Deep Down sang—deep down satisfaction. She was leading the charge to siphon off Peter’s near monopoly of wild ginseng.”
“We’ll talk later,” he said, squeezing her upper arm. “This on-site investigation is going to take awhile. By the way, Tyler really doesn’t have much of an alibi—says he was on his own this morning before going to Cassie’s, taking photos, which he claims will be auto-dated to back him up. But if he can fake photos, maybe he can fake the dates he took them.”
“You don’t suspect him of anything?”
“I can’t afford to overlook anyone. I’ll stop by when I can this evening. Until then, keep your doors locked.”
By Cassie’s truck, she turned to face him. “I will. I’ll be planning my route for the count tomorrow. Cassie says she can go along, if she can get someone to watch Pearl. Well, I already have the sang counted here. Amazing a great patch of it like that hasn’t been poached.”
“Keep safe and phone me or Emmy if anything seems strange. Anything.”
They held hands before she turned away to get in Cassie’s truck. He closed the door on her side then headed back to the scene, where Beth’s plastic-cocooned body was being rolled into the back of the coroner’s vehicle. In the rearview mirror, on the other side, Jessie could see Tyler and Cassie huddled, talking, then he hugged her. A miracle, Jessie thought, that from tragedy came something good, not only for her and Drew but Cassie and Tyler—if Tyler was to be trusted.
Cassie got in the driver’s side and started the old Ford. It shuddered of its own accord and was further bounced by the rutted tire tracks as they headed out.
“I overheard Drew talking to the rescue team—recovery team, I mean,” Cassie said.
“And?”
“They don’t think she tripped. Those gnarled roots are too far from the edge. Also, Drew said the footprints above the ledge are not from someone jogging. Someone either dragged her body—or they had huge feet, and were kind of shuffling.”
Jessie’s pulse pounded. She gripped her hands so hard in her lap that her fingers went numb. He must not have told her about the footprints just now because he didn’t want her to worry more than she already was.
“But you did say Pearl was picking flowers there. Maybe you and Tyler kind of shuffled to the edge to look down at her.”
“I guess,” Cassie said with a shrug. “Drew told the rescue guys not to go over the edge right where the tracks were. He wants Tyler to take close-ups of the prints when the slant of setting sun gets just right so the profile and depth of them show up. Jessie? You look really peaked. Are you thinking about that other photo Tyler took? With that large form in it?”
“I don’t know how much longer those of us who have seen Tyler’s photo are going to be able to keep this—this monster myth quiet. Cassie, you should lock your doors tonight. Drew told me to. I know you never used to but—”
“I have for as long as I’ve had Pearl. I’m not working the garden anymore in the dark now, no way.”
Jessie put her left hand on Cassie’s shoulder. She was glad the truck was shaking so her friend didn’t know that she was, too.
When they stopped at the sheriff’s office to pick up Pearl, Emmy told them, “She’s been an angel. I’d love to have a little girl myself, just like her!”
To Jessie’s surprise, Cassie, who had just thanked Emmy profusely and was on her way out the door, rounded on the girl. “I just want to warn you about Ryan Buford,” Cassie clipped out. Jessie’s jaw dropped.
“Why? What about him?” Emmy asked, wide-eyed from the other side of the counter. She crossed her arms over her full breasts, and thrust out her lower lip.
“I’ve heard he’s also giving Audrey Doyle a lot of attention, and with Audrey, you know what that might mean. That’s all.”
“I know how she operates, but I trust him,” Emmy insisted. “Where else is he going to stay around here? Vern Tarver won’t put up anyone but Peter Sung. I know what she’s like,” Emmy repeated, with a slanted look at Jessie instead of Cassie. “I’ve seen how she had her claws out for the sheriff since he’s been here.”
Jessie’s eyes got even wider, but she kept quiet. She was fascinated by Cassie’s comments about Buford. Her claim that he was romancing Audrey might be reason enough for Cassie to speak out this way about something that was, really, none of her business. But now that she thought of it, Pearl’s looks could be a blend of Ryan Buford’s and Cassie’s.
“Thanks again for watching Pearl with all that’s going on,” Cassie told Emmy. “Didn’t mean to upset you, just a word to the wise.” She pulled Pearl outside, muttering, “She’s being really stupid, bless her heart.”
Back in the truck, heading for her house, Jessie had to bite her tongue to keep from questioning Cassie. Pearl was here; now was not the time. It was getting late. It must be sunset already, for a reddish reflection emanated from the forest as if it mirrored the sinking sun. No, that couldn’t be the sun.
“What’s that glow in the sky?” she said, craning her neck toward the windshield and pointing. “Could it be a forest fire? It’s over to the north a bit, not near my place, but it could spread.”
As they turned the corner into Slate Creek Hollow, where they could see that Jessie’s house was fine, they both shouted at once, “Seth’s!”
Cassie cried, “Let’s go back out to the road, then drive down to Seth’s from the highway! It’ll be faster.”
“Not faster than running along the creek. Besides, we’ve got to get help. You and Pearl go inside—here’s the key,” she said, digging in her purse for it. “Call Emmy and tell her to get the fire volunteers. Drew will be back at the office soon, so he and some others should be able to come right out.”
“Wait! What about you?” Cassie shouted as Jessie got out and slammed the truck door.
“I’m going along the creek to be sure Seth’s okay—that he’s out of the house. Send help, fast!”
“But Drew told me to be sure you were in your house before I left so…” her friend shouted as Jessie tore through her backyard and along the creek into the darkening forest.
Her things in her purse bounced as she jogged along. Could Seth have accidentally set off a fire with the gasoline he kept around for his chain saw? He heated with gas, but she’d heard no explosion. What really scared her was that someone might have turned mutterings, prejudice and blame against the old man into actions, burning him out. As long as Seth and, years ago, his wife, Anna, had lived here, he’d been a loner who didn’t agree with many things. Had someone used the excuse of her mother’s murder to drive him out?
Why couldn’t she smell smoke? The wind must not be right. The strongest odor in the air was musty, almost like
mothballs. Maybe that smell was from fungus in the carpet of wet leaves.
As she ran, she had never been more convinced that Seth had been wronged in this whole thing. He would never have harmed her mother, no matter what the circumstances screamed. Besides, he would have to be crazy to leave evidence that pointed to him, but who could be trying to make him a scapegoat? Tyler was the one who had cleverly come up with that nonsense about Cherokee skillies.
She was surprised it was so dark in the forest, but the thick canopy of leaves blocked the setting sun as well as the red fire glow. If it wasn’t put out soon, would it spread to the woods, to her house? Would the poplar stand of Seth’s, where she’d wanted to count sang tomorrow morning, burn?
As if she’d passed through a gray curtain, she suddenly saw and smelled smoke. It burned her eyes and bit deep into her lungs. Panting, with a sharp stitch in her side, she made herself slow down a bit. She was sweating, but a cool breeze snaked shivers up her spine.
Then something cracked close behind her.
As she stretched her strides, she looked back. What had that been? Just a dead limb falling? Someone stepping on a branch? She knew the normal forest sounds and scents, but that heavy smell, fetid and yeasty, seemed to enclose her.
Her brain flashed back to the night they’d found her mother’s body, the night she’d run from the glowing eyes and heard the trudge or shuffle of heavy steps…
The scrim of blowing smoke made this deeper part of the woods between Seth’s property and hers seem even darker, more threatening. Yes, she smelled smoke now. It curled around her, seemed to reach for her…
They are like smoke that floats through the woods… Drew had read today from Tyler’s research on skillies. Their basic power is one of fear, dark, primal fear.
She felt it now, felt something near, watching her, stalking her. Terror gnawed at her courage, ready to devour her. Turning her head again, she tried to pierce the narrow, smoke-hazed shafts of sun stabbing almost horizontal between the tree trunks. The vast, dense forest pressed in on her.
Someone was out here close, something waiting to lunge.
She ran faster. Had Beth Brazzo fled like this from a pursuer? Her nostrils flared; hair prickled on the nape of her neck. Fire or not, Seth or not, she should never have come out here alone. She tasted not just floating ash but bitter, raw terror. Her breath rasped in her throat. A roar sounded in her ears. Was it just her memories from the sound of Indian Falls? No high whine intermingled with the sound. This muted roar reminded her of Bear Falls, near where they’d found her mother. It was as if she were near Bear Creek, and she had fallen, lost her pack. She carried that very pack of her mother’s, using it for a purse. Footsteps behind her, faster, faster. She remembered that she’d scrambled up and fled again from someone coming, someone swinging a long, silver thing at her head.
Refusing to let the image come closer, she forced the nightmare away. Yet horror filled her, smoky and roiling, suffocating her, trying to possess her.
She burst into Seth’s clearing, gasping for breath but only sucked in smoke. Nothing emerged from the forest behind her. She heard only the crackle of flames and her own ragged breathing. Here was real danger as scarlet heat cloaked in gray smoke reached for her.
From her raw throat, she screamed, “Seth! Seth, where are you?”
Chapter 21
21
I t seemed an eternity that Jessie paced the clearing alone, waiting for help. She shouted for Seth, alternating horrified looks at the flames with glances over her shoulder at the woods. The crackle of flames obscured all other sounds. Nothing leapt at her from the forest. She must have spooked herself.
Seth’s truck was parked in the clearing, and that scared her, too, not only because it could be devoured by the fire, but because it could mean he might be home, trapped inside. The blackened roof had partly collapsed; heat had blown the windows out. Fire must have ravaged the interior.
Finally, the ladder truck—the only truck of the Deep Down Volunteer Fire Department, mostly funded by Vern Tarver—rolled down the lane. Four volunteer firefighters jumped out and began pumping water from the truck’s tank. Because they wore big boots, heavy coats and helmets, she couldn’t tell who they were for sure, except for Vern. She knew Drew was a volunteer, too, but he wasn’t here.
Cassie parked down the lane. Holding Pearl’s hand, she came to stand beside Jessie with their arms around each other and Pearl pressed between. A small crowd, including Tyler, showed up to gawk. He shot photos from several angles, needing no strobes to light the night.
After parking down the road, Drew arrived. In the dimming light of dancing flames, his eyes met Jessie’s. He gave her a quick nod before he hurried to the fire truck, yanked on a coat and helmet and raced to help.
“Where’s Seth?” she heard him ask the other volunteers.
“If he’s trapped inside, he’s gone,” one of the other men shouted. “Been too hot to go in. Ask Mariah’s girl—she got here first.”
Drew strode over to her.
“I never saw Seth,” she told him as he pulled her a short distance away from Cassie and Pearl. Jessie was surprised how raspy her voice sounded, as if it weren’t her own. “I shouted for him, but it was an inferno when I got here. It might be a gasoline fire.”
“Yeah, but, once again, not an accident. Next to his chain saw, there’s a gasoline can, but it’s been tipped and emptied. The windows are all blown outward except for the one near the can, where the arsonist evidently threw something in.”
“Oh, no!”
“That’s just at a first glance. Not a very subtle arson job.”
Behind him, a fireman was suiting up in heavier gear, maybe getting ready to search inside now that the flames were under control. Another volunteer trained his light on the front door they had just hacked in.
Jessie grabbed Drew’s arm as he turned to head back. “You said once again it was not an accident. Do you think Beth’s death wasn’t, either?”
“Clayton Merriman hasn’t had time to rule on it, but he says the blood under her head came from a lateral blow.”
“Which could be from her fall onto the rock ledge.”
“He thinks it’s from a blunt force instrument—weapon. But how did you get here first when Cassie called the fire in from your house?”
“I ran through the forest.”
“Alone?” he shouted.
“It wasn’t dark yet. I knew it was the fastest way.”
“Damn it, Jess. It probably wasn’t dark when someone killed your mother or maybe Beth, either! Whoever’s doing this is brazen as hell.”
“I was worried about Seth.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
He trudged back to the others. The man in the heavy suit took a light and went in. It seemed he was inside for an eternity. When he came back out, still breathing through his mask with his helmet hiding his face, he shrugged and lifted both hands to indicate he hadn’t found Seth.
Jessie sighed in relief. At least he wasn’t trapped inside. Since his truck sat here, surely he hadn’t literally burned his bridges behind him and left the area because he was guilty of the murder some suspected him of.
Vern continued to spray water on the south side of the house; Drew and two others dragged charred, sodden debris away from the dwelling with long hooks. It began to rain, not hard, but enough to allow Vern to stop pouring water on the embers. Even if it had rained earlier, it would not have been enough to douse fierce flames. The thick tree canopy kept the onlookers dry, and the firemen seemed to welcome the extra water.
But then, as if he’d materialized from the last wisps of smoke, Seth emerged from the forest into the clearing, staring agape at the ruin of his house. The old man’s legs buckled; he sank to the ground.
Drew went to him, bent over him. As Drew spoke, Seth kept nodding, nodding, then just sat unmoving, maybe whispering something to Drew. Even from here, Jessie could see that he had another necklace of animal claws around his
neck and wore a crude cape made of some sort of animal pelt covering one shoulder and his back. His face was smeared with paint or berry juice.
A strange hush descended as everyone turned and stared at Seth. It was, Jessie thought, like a freeze-frame in a movie. Then Drew straightened and said, “Seth’s been out in the woods all day. He’s grateful for your help.”
Everyone moved again, the firemen walking around to be certain the remnants of the flames were out, the onlookers drifting away but for Cassie, Pearl, Tyler and Jessie. Still Seth sat as if carved from one of the tree stumps that remained in front of the ruins of his home.
Drew spoke to him from time to time, then came back over to Jessie. In his fire gear, he was almost unrecognizable. It wasn’t just that the soot on his face made the whites of his eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. The helmet made him look as if he were taller and had a bigger, misshapen head; the coat bulked up his already big silhouette; the long-handled huge hook he carried caught a flash of light as Tyler took another photo. An instinctive shudder wracked her. She was desperate to make herself stop seeing that thing in Tyler’s picture everywhere she looked. As she’d run through the trees, it was as if The Thing had been in her memory, in her mind.
“Seth won’t leave the site, won’t go stay in my apartment, even for the night,” Drew told her. He took her arm and pulled her a little ways from Cassie and Pearl. “He says he’ll sleep in his truck, but he refuses to take it over to your house. Can you and Cassie drive to your place, get some blankets, water and some food to bring back for him? I’ll stay here at least until then.”
“Yes, of course.”
“It will be a lot later than I’d planned when I get there. I’m going to stake out Junior’s house. Maybe Cassie and Pearl can stay with you for the night.”
“Tell Seth, if he changes his mind, he’s welcome to come over to eat with us. What else did he say? What’s with the face paint and animal skin?”
