by Sylvia Nobel
He leaned out the window and yelled, “I’ll unlock the gate. You can meet me there when you’re ready.” He pointed to his right and then drove around the pile. I craned my neck, just barely able to see the gate almost hidden from view.
I parked and, when I slid out, the frigid wind sent goose bumps racing up my forearms. Shedding the lighter coat, I pulled on my down jacket, secured a stocking cap over my hair, tied up my hiking boots, grabbed my notepad and, after locking the door, made my way around the brushy barrier in time to see Burton Carr unlocking a gate that warned: AREA CLOSED DUE TO RESOURCE PROTECTION. NO ENTRY.
“Why is all that brush piled up there?” I asked, thumbing behind me.
“To discourage people from driving their vehicles here.”
It was interesting to note that except for perhaps twenty feet of wire fencing beyond the gate, plus a row of good-sized boulders that extended five or six yards on both sides, there really was nothing to stop someone from driving onto the road. I walked up beside him. “So, I hear that, much to the consternation of the good citizens of Raven Creek, the Forest Service has no plans to reopen this road.”
He flicked me an inquisitive look and unloaded what sounded like pent-up frustration. “Consternation? That’s putting it mildly. They’re mad as hell, along with hikers, campers, rock climbers and these crazy, destructive off-road riders who call me every name in the book and then go out and carve their own trails through the forest regardless of the damage they cause.”
Crazy and destructive was right, I thought, remembering the two wild dune buggy drivers. “So you’re saying it wasn’t a good decision to close it?”
A shrug and head roll. “The order came down from on high. I’m not in charge, I’m not a supervisor and it’s not for me to say. I know everyone around here is upset, but then why should public funds be used to maintain a road solely for private landowners? And as a geologist, I have to say it has had some positive effects.”
“Such as?’
“Keeping people away from some of the dangerous old mining areas, discouraging vandalism at many of the archaeological sites like the Indian forts and petroglyphs, in addition to the old fire lookout. Eventually nature will reclaim it and someday you’ll never know there was ever a road here.” He gazed nostalgically into the forest. Was he reliving events from his past?
“Darcy said you spent a lot of time in the tower as a young boy.”
He turned questioning eyes on me. “When did she tell you that?”
I explained how I’d happened upon their place and as he listened, he pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “Sounds like she told you my whole life story,” he observed with a hint of impatience as he opened the passenger door for me. As I climbed in he asked pointedly, “You’re still sure you want to do this?”
“Yes.”
“It’s going to be a rough ride.” After he shut the door, started the engine and turned up the heat, I said quietly, “This is more than just another assignment for me. It’s personal. I knew Jenessa and I promised her mother that I’d check out the place where her daughter died.”
His eyes rounded in surprise. “Oh. I didn’t realize that.” He looked away quickly, his nondescript face compressed into a troubled frown that accentuated his weak chin. He drove through the gate, stopped, got out and locked it before sliding behind the wheel once more. We drove in silence for a few minutes. He was right. Again. The road was in terrible shape—overgrown with foliage, deeply furrowed, rocky and very muddy. We jostled, bucked, pitched back and forth and in one particular spot, splashed through a water-filled channel so deep, I didn’t think we’d make it, but he forged ahead. “This is where we removed the culvert which restored the natural runoff patterns,” he explained, his jaw tight with concentration as he maneuvered across the gully.
So, this was most likely the source of Darcy’s complaint about water cascading down the hill, washing out sections of the road below. When the terrain leveled out a bit, I was able to talk without fear of biting my tongue. “I spoke with Linda Tressick earlier today and she told me about her confrontations with Nathan Taylor, the young man that died here. She said you’d also had dealings with him?”
Keeping his eyes pinned ahead, he answered, “Yeah, I had the same issues Linda experienced. I had to cite him for tearing up the forest driving his ATV off the designated trails several months back. Some of these kids have no regard for rules,” he added, a touch of exasperation coloring his tone, “or for much of anything else for that matter.”
“Tell me about it. On the way here, a couple of young guys racing dune buggies ran me off the road. If I’d hit one of the boulders in my path, I might have been killed.”
“Really?” He tossed me a look of displeasure. “Where did that happen?”
“A half a mile past Bumble Bee.”
“Irresponsible kids,” he groused. “Did you get a look at them?”
“Not really. They had dust masks and sunglasses on.”
A deep sigh. “Well, that proves my point. Reckless disregard for anyone and anything but themselves.”
“And on that note,” I remarked, holding onto the handle as we lurched from side to side. “With the exception of those two encounters, how many confrontations did you have with Nathan?”
He didn’t answer immediately. “He was preparing to rappel from the top of one of the old Indian forts the first time I saw him. Now that’s just crazy stuff. Besides damaging a historical site, he could have killed himself right then and there. I warned him that he was trespassing on BLM land without a permit.”
“And his response was?”
A disdainful sniff. “Let’s just say he used some pretty disrespectful language and ignored me. But when I threatened to call one of the law enforcement rangers, he finally backed down.” He shook his head briefly, adding, “Reckless, wild kid. Abrasive too.”
While a part of me could not help but admire Nathan’s adventurous spirit, it appeared more and more likely that he’d been a corrupting influence on Jenessa. “Tell me something. In your opinion, did he act as if he might be on some kind of stimulant?”
“You mean drugs? Who knows nowadays? It seems like all the kids are high on something. Or, and I hate to say this now, but maybe he had a death wish. I also caught him trying to rappel down a vertical mine shaft not too far from here.”
“When was that?”
“Couple of weeks ago.”
I digested that sobering thought, calculating that the incident must have occurred near the beginning of his fatal trip. “Was Jenessa with him?”
He hesitated. “I…don’t remember seeing her that day.”
“Did you see them together at any other time these past two weeks?”
Swallowing hard, he stated somberly, “Not alive. Not until last Wednesday when I followed Harvel back to their camper and…well, you know.”
“Tell me more about that day,” I interjected. “Where were you and what time of day did he flag you down?”
“Around noon. I was just coming to the turnoff when Harvel came tearing down the hill on his snowmobile.”
“I read in the sheriff’s report that you were unable to get a cell signal. That’s weird, because I just got a text from my friend at about the same spot a short while ago.”
“I’m not surprised,” he said, lifting one shoulder. “We call them dead zones. You can be in the same place one day and have it work fine and then depending on weather conditions and other factors, not the next. It’s a crap shoot.”
“I see. So, you drove down the hill and that’s when you met up with Linda?”
“No. That was later. I felt it was my duty to check things out for myself first. It took me awhile to get the chains on the truck and even then the road was difficult to navigate because of the ice sheet beneath the snow. It was a challenge to keep from sliding over the edge, believe me.
I kept hoping that maybe Harvel was mistaken and they were still alive, but when I got here…well, it was not a pretty sight.”
I could only imagine. He glanced over at me fleetingly, his downward sloping eyes giving him a perpetually melancholy expression. “I guess the only good thing you can say is that they didn’t suffer at the end like a lot of people do.”
The grave undertone in his voice convinced me that he was probably referring to his mother’s battle with cancer. “I certainly hope that was the case.”
“This is as far as we can go,” he announced, slowing to a stop. “You ready to hike?”
I looked up at the swiftly darkening sky and saw that it was beginning to spit rain. “Looks like we’re going to get wet.”
“And muddy.” He opened the door and the sudden blast of icy air chilled me. I buttoned the collar of my coat, tucked my hair beneath the stocking cap and pulled the hood over my head. No turning back now. Rain spattering on us, we trudged through the mud, uphill, downhill and sloshed through puddles. The rain eventually turned to sleet and the wind whistled eerily through the pines. We descended into a particularly dark ravine and he put up a hand. “This is it.”
With thunder rumbling overhead and sleet now coming down so hard that photos were impossible, I just stood there with my shoulders hunched, absorbing the forlorn scene. It was easy to surmise how the young couple had gotten stranded in this deep gulch and again, Burton Carr had been correct. At this point in time, there was no evidence that anyone or anything had ever been here. If there were tire tracks, I couldn’t discern them. Nothing remained except the sorrowful aura of death. Saddened, I thought how unfair it was that their young lives had been snuffed out so soon and in such a tragic fashion. But now that I knew more about Nathan’s foolhardy exploits, it seemed plausible that he’d made a hasty and reckless decision to tackle this road in bad weather, fully aware that entry was prohibited, but willing to risk the consequences. And he had paid dearly for it. Poor Jenessa. Her attraction to his adventurous lifestyle, extraordinary good looks and capricious personality had sealed her fate.
Standing there in the freezing rain, I knew the misery I felt couldn’t begin to compare with the heart-crushing anguish that had befallen Marcelene and Ginger. Tears stung my eyes, and when the vision of Jenessa’s poor little cat waiting in vain for her return popped into my mind, a sob caught in my throat. Blinking fast, I looked away and stared at the thrashing treetops, still haunted by a host of unanswered questions. Some facts that appeared to be a given to law enforcement just didn’t compute. Since it seemed most likely that it was Nathan experimenting with drugs, why had the pills only been found in Jenessa’s pocket? Had drugs contributed to their demise? But, now that I knew about Nathan’s fearless personality, I wondered why this thrill-seeking young risk-taker would passively lie around and freeze to death. Why wouldn’t he take the bull by the horns and strike out on his own to find help? He was within two miles of Raven Creek. It just didn’t make any sense.
I looked back, staring at the muddy pools, wondering how to describe this lonesome, totally depressing scene to Marcelene and Ginger. Maybe I wouldn’t. Viewing the photos taken by law enforcement would be the only way any of us would ever know how the bodies appeared after six days of decomposition. Did I even want to see them now? Why implant that disturbing memory in my mind?
“Satisfied?”
I glanced over at Burton. He looked as miserable as I felt, his shoulders hunched against the howling wind, his coat and slacks drenched.
“Yes.” Hiking dejectedly towards the truck, I asked him, “Did you go inside the camper when you came back here with Harvel?”
A momentary hesitation. “No. I couldn’t. Opening the door was enough to convince me. The smell was…overpowering. It was the most terrible odor. Nauseating. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”
“Tell me something. The times that you came into contact with Nathan, did you notice whether he had a cell phone?”
Eyes narrowed in thought, he pushed his fogged glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “I honestly don’t remember. Why?”
“Because the authorities never found his or Jenessa’s phone. Don’t you think that’s awfully strange?”
“Considering that kids don’t go anywhere without them, it does seem peculiar.”
Perhaps to fill the void as we tromped back through the mud, Burton asked me about my job, and after I’d told him about some of the bizarre stories I’d investigated over the past few months, he darted me an inquisitive look. “So, is that what this was all about?”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe you’re reading more into this situation than is really there, hoping for another big story.”
“I’m after the truth, whatever that is.”
Breathing heavily from exertion, he huffed, “So…I’m gathering that you’re not convinced it was an accident?”
“I don’t know yet. There are a few things still bothering me,” I said through chattering teeth. Chilled to the bone and pooped from the hike, pure relief surged through me at the sight of his truck. I could hardly get inside fast enough. He swiped the water off his coat, jumped in and started the engine. Within a few minutes warm air blew from the vents. “Sorry about messing up your truck,” I said apologetically, looking down at my mud-caked boots.
He shifted into gear. “Don’t worry about it. I gave up years ago trying to keep a vehicle clean on these roads.”
“What an interesting experience it must have been growing up in these mountains and your mother having such a unique job.”
His gaze turned wistful. “I don’t know if it was all that interesting, unless there was a fire, but it was the happiest time of my life.”
“Darcy told me she’d taken care of your mother during her illness.”
His jaw muscles twitched slightly. “Yeah. I don’t like to dwell on that part. I’d rather remember how great it was spending long summer days with her in the lookout when it was just the two of us.”
“You must know everyone around here,” I remarked, holding my cold fingertips to the vents.
“Pretty much.”
“Do you know the Hinkle twins?”
A rapid sidelong glance. “Yeah. Known ’em since they were kids. Troublemakers. Both of them. Why do you ask?”
Did I detect a tinge of irritation in his voice? “I spotted them earlier at the bar in Cleator and, then on the way here to meet you, I noticed they turned off at the Raven Creek Sand and Gravel Company.”
His brows dipped noticeably lower. “That place is a nuisance.”
“People around here seem to either love it or hate it, depending on whether they’re employed there.”
“That’s true. I tend to sympathize with the environmental point of view. I’m not crazy about companies or people destructive to nature.” He gave me a brief smile. “Part of my job, I guess.”
“What business would they have there?”
“Maybe Elizabeth asked them to check things out since those people are operating on her land.”
“I don’t know about that. I’ve been told that she doesn’t have much to do with them since her husband died.”
Burton returned his attention to the road. “I wished she had listened to me. I warned her not to marry John Hinkle. Big mistake. Huge mistake. I tried to tell her he was just using her to raise those obnoxious boys. He never really cared about her like...what the hell?” Staring intently through the fogged-up windshield, he braked unexpectedly. I followed his stricken gaze to the side of the road and drew in a startled breath at the sight of a blood-splattered deer lying on the ground, weakly thrashing her legs in an attempt to get to her feet. Two skinny golden-eyed coyotes paced nervously nearby while at least a dozen ravens sat perched on the pine branches above, patiently waiting. We’d obviously interrupted a scene from nature’s food chain
.
Burton shoved the truck into park, jumped out and I was right behind him. The coyotes glared at us and stood their ground for a few seconds then, after casting baleful glances in our direction, slinked off into the forest. Once we got close enough, we could see the deep wound on the deer’s left hind leg. This didn’t look good at all. And the expression of abject terror reflected in the doomed animal’s soft brown eyes, filled me with sorrow. Burton surveyed the situation glumly. “Looks like she got entangled in some barbed wire fencing,” he said, pointing to the coil of jagged wire still attached to a piece of what had probably been a fence post. “You might want to go back to the truck now.”
“Why?”
He drew his service revolver. “I’m not going to leave her here to suffer. You think you can stomach this?”
Horror welled up in my chest when I realized what he was about to do. “Wait a minute! Isn’t there something we can do to save her?”
“No,” he stated with a note of finality. “She can’t walk, so she can’t survive. What’s it going to be?”
I hesitated, torn as to whether I wanted to witness such a traumatic, yet inevitable event, and decided that I’d come off looking like a coward if I didn’t stay. “Do what you have to do.”
His hand shaking slightly, he placed the barrel close to the deer’s skull.
Throat tight, belly quaking with expectation, I swear the doe gave me a resigned look as if she knew what was about to transpire. Even though I’d steeled myself, I flinched violently when the shot rang out. The reverberation echoed through the rain-soaked trees, sending the flock of ravens flapping away, cawing loudly, their long wings whipping the air around us. As I watched the life seep from the deer’s eyes, I had to admit that the scene had disturbed me far more than I dared let on. It was one thing to fire at paper and metal at the target range but quite another to shoot a living thing. I darted a look at Burton Carr and it was enlightening to note the look of distress etched on his face as he wordlessly turned away, holstering his weapon. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the two coyotes skulking in the nearby brush, salivating. They would soon be feasting on the doe’s carcass. On a logical level I accepted the fact that this was nature’s way, but emotionally I had no stomach to witness it. I hurried to the truck.
