by Amy Cross
“And backfiring trucks?”
“Sure. Anyone who was near Devil's Lookout over the past few days. We need a timeline of the entire forest.”
“Why's it called Devil's Lookout, anyway?”
“You don't know?” I stop and turn to him. “You really are new to the area, aren't you?”
He shrugs. “I keep meaning to look the name up online, but then I never remember.”
“It's because of a story that goes back a long way,” I continue. “There's just this dumb legend about this forest. Obviously nobody actually believes it apart from a few fringe whack-jobs, but the story goes that whenever this devil-like creature wants to check on the world, to see which way the wind is blowing and what's shaking, he climbs up from deep below and this just happens to be the place where he pops his head up and looks around. There are a load of tunnels under the forest, so that's part of the set-up. So he comes up into the tunnels, and then he pokes his head up through a hole in the forest floor and sees what's up. Then he scuttles back down to the fires below and gets on with his latest dastardly plans.” I can't help but roll my eyes. “Terrifying, huh?”
Hinch stares at me, as if he can't quite believe such a ridiculous story.
“I told you it's dumb,” I continue, forcing a smile. “Try not to have any sleepless nights.”
“But it must be based on something,” he replies. “Even the most insane stories usually have some kinda truth at their core.”
“Not this one,” I reply , turning and leading him back toward the cars. “It's mostly just a way to scare kids. My girl used to come out here with her friends, and I'm telling you, they used to scare each other witless by talking about how one day they might spot a terrifying head poking up from a hole in the ground. She used to climb into bed with us, 'cause she was too scared to sleep alone.”
“I didn't know you had a kid.”
“It's complicated,” I mutter.
“Where does -”
“Timeline!” I say firmly. “Focus on getting a timeline built. Once we start knowing how one event relates to another, we can figure out a narrative. The narrative is everything. Until then, there's a risk that we're seeing things wrong. Plus, we need to get those buckets analyzed. It's a long shot, but you never know, maybe the bastard screwed up and left us a nice set of prints. We also need to figure out where the girl was killed, 'cause I really don't think it happened out here. The job was done somewhere else, and then the remains were carried to this location for dumping. I mean, that's what buckets are for, right? For carrying stuff?”
“Sure,” he replies, jotting something in his notebook.
“We also need to identify her,” I continue, looking back toward the crime scene. “Spread the net wider, look at neighboring counties, even neighboring states. Also look for any vehicles that might have been abandoned in town. If that girl came from somewhere else, she must have arrived here by car or on a bus, which means somebody knows who she is. Check at the terminal, see if anyone remembers seeing a stranger. Just...”
I pause for a moment, wincing at the sight of one of the buckets being carefully placed inside a transport box. The dead girl, whoever she was, must have been around Ramsey's age. I know it's not an entirely rational reaction, but somehow that simple fact really gets me in the pit of my stomach.
“Somebody has to be missing her,” I whisper. “Probably missing her real bad. We need to draw up a list of teenagers in town and check on them.”
I pause again, before feeling a rumbling pain in my chest. The pills are going to wear off soon, and I don't want to be around Hinch and the others when that happens.
“Finish up out here,” I tell Hinch. “I'm going back to the station.”
“You are? But I thought you'd want to -”
“I'll see you there,” I add, already making my way around the side of the car. The pain in my gut is really biting again, and I'm starting to think this is one of those days when I need to keep myself to myself. People'll just ask questions if they see me in pain. “Get Doctor Shaw on the phone and tell her to meet me. I want to expedite this investigation as much as possible.”
“Of course.”
“And Hinch?”
He's already starting to head back to the crime scene, but he quickly turns back to me.
“Do you have a cake waiting for you at home?”
I wait for him to make some jokey comment, but he simply stares at me blankly.
“A birthday cake?” I add.
Again, I wait, but again he seems to have no idea what I'm talking about.
“Katie said it popped up as an alert on the computer system,” I continue. “It's a little thing we do at the office. The computer tells us when it's somebody's birthday.”
Even now, he seems lost.
“It's your birthday, Hinch,” I say finally. “Isn't it? Please, don't tell me you'd forgotten.”
“Right,” he mutters, smiling nervously as he rubs the back of his neck. I swear, he seems genuinely embarrassed. “I never really pay much attention to that kinda thing. I mean, the last thing I want is to be reminded that I'm getting old. I'll be thirty soon!”
“Wow, you're ancient,” I mutter bitterly.
“I'll get a cake on the way home. I promise.”
“You don't have to promise,” I tell him. “I'm not telling you what to do, I'm just wishing you happy birthday. Trust me, when you do a job like this, you really need to remember to take time out. Find someone to celebrate with. I'd offer to go for a drink, but something tells me this case is gonna keep me up late.”
“Well, at least Keanu's okay.”
I open my mouth to reply, before hesitating. “What?”
“Tom Lanston's dog Keanu. He came home this morning, safe and sound. A little spooked, apparently, but other than that he's fine. I guess we have to give thanks for little mercies, right?”
“Sure. At least the dog's fine.”
With that, I climb back into the car. I know I was a little short with Hinch, but in truth this case has got me spooked. This is the first time I've ever seen a dead body that's roughly the same age as my little girl, and I can't help taking my wallet out and checking the only photo of her that I have left. The photo shows Ramsey smiling at the camera, back when she was just eight years old. Now she'll be eighteen, and that's the kind of age when a girl can really start getting herself into trouble.
The one good thing is that at least I know she's a long, long way away. She's nowhere near Devil's Lookout.
Three
Leanne Halperin
“I missed Devil's Lookout so much,” Ramsey says as she walks ahead of me, leading me through the forest. “You know, I think I actually dreamed about this place sometimes. Is it dumb to get nostalgic about a forest?”
“So where are you gonna sleep tonight?” I ask.
“I get nostalgic about the dumbest things,” she continues, clearly ignoring my question. “Streets. Houses. Rooms. Benches. Not people, but places. How weird's that, huh? Or maybe it's not weird at all. Maybe I'm just kidding myself that I'm weird, when in fact I'm just like everybody else. Gotta be a possibility, right?”
“Ramsey, where are you gonna sleep tonight?”
“Chill, Leanne.”
“Are you gonna go to your dad's place?”
“I'll be fine.”
“But if -”
“I see it!” she calls out excitedly, suddenly rushing on ahead.
“Hey, wait!” I stammer, but I get the feeling she's deliberately avoiding all my questions.
It might be six years since I last saw Ramsey, but I know when somebody's trying to hide something from me. Ramsey Kopperud used to be my best friend, we were absolutely inseparable all the way up from kindergarten, and I was devastated when her mother moved her away from Deal. I should be ecstatic that she suddenly came back, and in some ways I am, but deep down I've got this rumbling feeling that she's in trouble. I guess, unless I can get her to open up, my only hope is that I'm
wrong.
I might be wrong.
I'm wrong about stuff quite often.
“Leanne!” she yells from far off in the distance. “I found it!”
“It's not like it ever went anywhere,” I mutter, not really hurrying too much to catch up. “The whole town was still here all the while you were gone.”
It's no surprise that when I finally reach her, she's standing in the clearing and looking down at a small ring of stones on the ground, surrounding a small hole about a foot across. As I get closer, she crouches to take a better look, and she seems genuinely fascinated by the stones, even though she and I both saw them plenty of times in the old days. There are half a dozen of these markers spread out through the forest. Some of the holes, like this one, have domed metal bars running over them. To keep that devil creature from breaking through, naturally.
“Has anyone seen anything weird since I left?” she asks, reaching out and placing a hand on one of the bars. “Or felt anything weird?”
“Weird like how?”
“You know what I mean. Out here.”
“No, Ramsey,” I continue, “nobody's seen the devil in these woods.”
“Really?” She smiles. “Pity.”
“You know all that stuff isn't actually true, right?” I ask. “It was fun to freak ourselves out when we were kids, but we're older now.”
“We're eighteen.”
“Exactly!”
“We're hardly ancient.”
“But we're not silly little girls,” I continue. “We're not dumb enough to come out here and scare each other with spooky stories.”
“So you don't believe that the devil sticks his head out through these holes sometimes?”
I wait for her to admit that she's joking, but she actually seems to be serious.
“Like some kinda whack-a-mole?” I ask finally, crossing my arms. “Are you kidding? It's such a ridiculous story, it's almost funny. I mean, what, does he come up with this bright red head with horns? How can you not laugh at that?”
Again, I wait for a reply, but she seems lost in thought as she continues to stare at the ring of stones. Somehow, I get the feeling that she's actually giving the idea the time of day. Maybe, in the ten years she was away from Deal, she became way more serious and credulous.
“Do you ever go down there?” she asks suddenly.
I can't help laughing at the idea. “As if!”
She looks up at me again. “Why not?”
“Down into the tunnels?” I continue, convinced that she has to be joking. “Why would anyone ever want to go down into the tunnels?”
“Basic human curiosity.”
She smiles, and I swear now there's a little glint in her eye.
“The tunnels are gross,” I point out. “If you read about them online, it's pretty clear that there's no mystery about them. They're just left over from some freak's random mining project that didn't even get off the ground. Anyone who even thinks about going into them has to be insane. If you ask me, they'd deserve whatever happened to them.”
“So you never went down there once? Not in all the time I was gone?”
“No way!”
“Since when did you turn into a scaredy-cat?”
I flinch at that description. “Okay,” I say finally, “who are you, and what did you do with the real Ramsey Kopperud?”
She gets to her feet, still grinning. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means you were always just like me,” I continue. “You never wanted to go exploring the tunnels, you never even wanted to go far away from your backyard. We both agreed that stuff like that was stupid! We always went to one of the entrance and looked inside, but we were too scared to actually go further. Even that time you said you felt something in the air, you still didn't go down there.”
“We were eight years old,” she replies. “We're eighteen now.”
“Sure, but still -”
“And I want to go explore the tunnels.”
I shake my head.
“Why not?” she asks. “Are you scared?”
“Yeah, right.”
“You are!”
She's starting to bug me a little now. “I'm not scared,” I say firmly. “I'm just sensible.”
“Are you scared of the devil?” she continues, stepping closer and putting an arm around my shoulder. She hugs me tight, before turning to look back down at the ring of stones on the ground. “Think about it, Leanne. One day, years ago, an old man was out here alone in the forest, just minding his -”
“I know the story!”
“Sshh!” she hisses. “Let me remind you. He was just getting on with his own business, and then he heard a scratching sound. And he looked all around, but he couldn't tell where it was coming from, but then he was pretty much right where we're standing right now, and he looked down, and what did he see?”
Sighing, I stare at the ring of stones.
“What did he see, Leanne?”
“This is a story for little kids,” I point out.
“Humor me. What did he see?”
“I'm not saying it.”
“He saw the devil's head poking up, grinning at him.”
“Ramsey, that's just -”
“And it drove him mad,” she continues, with a hint of wonder in her voice now, “and he ran like a maniac all the way back to town. And when people came out to check, they found there really was a new hole in the ground, and they put these rocks around it to mark it, and they put bars over it and then they added it to the long list of times when people have seen the devil poking his head up to take a look around. 'Cause that's what happens around here. That's why this place is called Devil's Lookout. It's 'cause the devil really does appear in this forest from time to time. Not just a bad guy, or some random demon. The actual, real devil.”
I wait for her to continue, but I think she's pausing for effect. She probably thinks she's scaring me.
“It's just an urban legend,” I say finally.
“Is it?”
“Blatantly.”
“But urban legends are always based on some nugget of truth, Leanne. Maybe people just pretend it's an urban legend, 'cause they're too scared to admit that it might be real.”
Sighing again, I slip away from her and take a step back. “I think we should head back to town.”
“Why?”
“Because wandering around in the forest is kinda boring. And because it's getting cold.”
“I want to take a look at the tunnels.”
I shake my head.
“Okay, well...” She pauses, before putting her hands on her hips and sighing. “I guess I'll catch you later, then.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I'm gonna go take a look in the tunnels, and I'll catch you later. I'll look you up tonight, or maybe tomorrow. Chill, Leanne. I'll see you around.”
With that, she turns and starts making her way between the trees, as if she's actually thinking of going off alone. She seems so confident and sure of herself, but she has to be putting on an act.
“Hey, come back!” I yell. “Ramsey, don't be a dumbass! You can't go wandering around out here by yourself! It's not safe!”
“I'll be fine!” she calls back to me, not even bothering to turn and look. After a moment, she raises her right hand and makes the peace sign.
“I can't leave you out here!” I shout. “Ramsey, please, just come back to town with me right now! We can go back to my place if you've got nowhere else to go! My mom'll let you stay! She probably won't even notice!”
She replies, but she's too far away now for me to hear exactly what she says.
“Please don't do this,” I mutter under my breath, as I start to realize that there's no way in all the world that I can just let her be alone out here. “Please, Ramsey, you never used to be like this!”
I stand my ground.
She'll come back. She has to. She's only testing me. She did this a few times in the old days, but
she never actually meant any of it.
And then she disappears past another line of trees, and she's gone.
Finally, even though I desperately want to go back to town, I set off after her. If she wants to see the entrance to the tunnels, I guess that's fine. But then we really are going straight home, because we're not idiots.
Four
Sheriff James Kopperud
“A visit from the sheriff?” Buddy says, grinning at me as I make my way up the steps that lead to his porch. “Now, what did I do this time? Are you gonna drag me away in cuffs and throw me in one of those fancy new high-tech jail cells you got installed last year?”
“You're just jealous,” I reply, heading over to him and taking a seat. “Back when you were the sheriff, you had those clunky old sliding doors with big-ass metal keys. The damn things looked like they were leftovers from the set of some wild west movie.”
“Never had a problem with them.”
“They didn't exactly inspire confidence.”
“But they did the job!”
“They could be unlocked with a goddamn hairpin!”
“Well, that's why you don't let our prisoners have a hairpin, dumbass. Do I have to explain everything to you? I thought I trained you up when I left!”
I can't help smiling, despite the pain in my gut. Ever since he retired and I took his place, Buddy has spent his days sitting right here on the porch at the front of his house, watching the town go by. It's a nice life, and I can't help thinking – even if this isn't very rock n'roll of me – that I wouldn't mind ending up the same way some time. Then again, it's easy to think like that on a day like today, when Buddy's dementia seems almost non-existent. There are other days when I turn up to visit him, and he doesn't even remember who I am. Those days are the hardest.
“Did you hear?” I continue. “Chris Halperin's our new mayor. He won the election yesterday. Results are gonna be announced later today, but I heard a few things on the grapevine.”
“Fascinating.”
“I thought you'd wanna know,” I mutter. “I remember how much you despise the guy.”
“Yeah, well -”
Before I can finish, my phone starts ringing. I slip it from my pocket and check that it's not Hinch or anyone from the office, and then I put it away again.
