by Patricia Fry
“Yeah, did you flush him out of there?” Keith asked.
The ranger grimaced. “He’s the reason for the evacuations. You see, he murdered someone and…”
Keith stared at the ranger, then cried, “What?”
Michael was equally shocked. “Murder? He’s accused of murder?”
The ranger nodded. “Yup. Mounted police and search teams on ATVs are roaming all over this park looking for him. So you’d better not get in their way or you could find yourself in danger or trouble. We’re advising visitors to stay out of this area for now.” He chuckled. “Shouldn’t take them long to nab him, though. He’s up there in years and on foot.”
Michael winced.
“What’s wrong?” Savannah asked when she and Holly caught up to their husbands.
Keith took a deep breath and gestured toward the ranger. “This guy tells us there’s a search team out looking for him.”
“They think he killed someone,” Michael added.
“What?” Holly gasped. “Who? Who’s he supposed to have killed?”
When the ranger realized that the two couples were waiting for his response, he said, “A fisherman down on the lower fork of the Ridge River. The hiker who found the body saw someone run into the brush and the description matched that of the old hermit.”
“Tell me,” Michael said, “has the… um… old hermit ever caused any trouble before? I mean, from what I understand, he’s lived up here for quite a while. Has he been accused of anything like this before?”
The ranger thought for a moment. “Not as far as I know, he hasn’t.” Just then something caught his eye. He pointed. “Hey, there’s a varmint in your car! Did you leave your windows down? You don’t want to do that out here.”
Savannah glanced back at Keith’s Jeep. “No. That’s our cat.”
The ranger continued to stare. “A cat? I don’t see many cats in the park. Is he a good camper? Are you folks camping here?”
Keith nodded rather absentmindedly. “We’re staying at Brody’s Lodge.” He then asked, “So if he’s lived up here for a while and he’s never been in any trouble, why is he being accused now?”
The ranger scratched his head. “Because of the description, I guess… gray beard, long hair, grungy clothes, that old bucket hat…”
“Bucket hat?” Holly questioned.
“Yeah. You know—what fishermen wear.”
Keith and Michael exchanged looks and Keith said, “My brother and I’ve been driving and hiking around this area for over a week now, and I’ve seen a dozen or more guys who match that description.”
“Oh… um… well, I guess that’s probably—you know, something to consider. I’m sure the authorities have a…”
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. Savannah grabbed Michael’s arm and Holly rushed to Keith’s side.
“It’s not hunting season, is it?” Keith asked anxiously. “There’s no hunting around here in the spring and summer, right?”
The ranger shook his head. “No. Listen, I’d better finish putting out these cones and go alert those folks who’re camping up in the pines.” He appeared to be distracted for a moment, then mumbled, “I should check on that—find out who’s shooting.”
Keith moved back so the ranger could drive off. He looked at Michael. “Do you think…?”
“…that they shot him?” Michael finished. He lowered his head. “God, I sure hope not. We’re so close to finally knowing him.”
“What should we do?” Savannah asked, sounding somewhat panicked.
When no one spoke, Holly suggested, “Let’s go back down to the Ridgecrest and find out what people are saying.”
Savannah nodded. “Good idea. If anything has happened, someone in there will know about it.”
Michael grimaced. “Gosh, this has been a roller-coaster ride.”
“Sure has,” Keith agreed. “We think we’re close to finding him…”
“Then he disappears into thin air,” Michael said.
Holly chuckled nervously. “Well, you have some help now.” When the others looked at her, she explained, “A whole search team is out there looking for him.”
“Yeah,” Savannah said, “but that could hinder more than help. They’ll either arrest him or force him deeper into the wilderness.”
“Or kill him,” Keith said under his breath.
Chapter 7
When the Pettits and the Iveys arrived at the café with the cat, they found it bustling with people and activity.
“Yeah, honey,” one man shouted out to Wanda, “just keep the beers coming and it won’t matter that I can’t get to my favorite fishing spot.”
Another man slapped him on the back. “Any ole excuse to drink, right, buddy?”
The group at the bar laughed heartily.
“Hi guys,” Wanda greeted rather hastily. “Sit wherever you can find a spot. There are no private tables today, so don’t feel shy about joining strangers.” She stood up on her toes. “I think there’s room for four at that table across the way.”
Keith leaned toward Wanda, who stood just five foot four, and asked, “What’s going on, do you know?”
She looked him in the eye, glanced at Michael, then said, as if telling a secret, “You know that guy you’ve been looking for—the old hermit? Well, I guess he’s gone and killed someone and they won’t let folks back into where the fish are biting—you know, the best fishing spots. So they’re all partying here today, waiting for a possible all-clear.”
Keith grinned. “Are you sure this isn’t a rumor that Al started in order to get more business?”
Wanda appeared stunned for a moment, then said, “Oh, you’re joking, right? Yeah, that’s a good one.” She glanced briefly toward the kitchen, then headed in that direction, calling out, “Hey, my order’s up. Go ahead and sit down.”
“Might as well join in,” Michael suggested.
“Yeah,” Keith said. “We came for information, didn’t we?” He looked around. “Let’s see… who looks like they might know something?”
“That one,” Savannah said nodding to her right. “See those two guys sitting at that large table against the wall?”
“There are only three chairs,” Keith noticed.
Holly pointed. “I see an extra chair at that table.”
“Mind if we join you?” Savannah asked, as they approached the strangers.
The older of the two men briefly scrutinized them, looked down at Rags, and said, “Yeah, I guess.”
Keith chuckled. “Hey, sorry about that. Wanda said there are no private tables today.” He winked. “Guess she doesn’t want to miss out on any tips.”
A bald-headed man with a chin puff, dressed in jeans and a tight-fitting long-sleeved t-shirt, looked up briefly, then went back to staring into his coffee cup.
The first man stood and adjusted his baseball cap. “Here, you can have my seat. I think I’ll head back down the mountain. Not going to get any fishing in with what’s going on out there today.”
“Yeah, if they let you through,” his tablemate grumbled. “I hear the road’s closed in both directions.”
“Well, I’ll take my chances.” Before walking away, he said, “Hey, I hope they locate your truck.”
Keith nodded toward the man who was leaving. “Thanks for the seat.” He moved closer to the table and motioned for the others to sit down. After studying a menu for a moment, he addressed the stranger. “I’m Keith, this is my brother, Michael, and our wives, Holly and Savannah.”
The man gazed at each of them with little interest and muttered, “Brad.”
Keith could see that the man wasn’t interested in conversation, but he wanted some information. “So your truck is missing? Do they think the theft is related to the murder?” When Brad shrugged, Keith asked, “Are you here for the fishing? What did you do—leave the keys in your vehicle?”
Brad nodded. “Yeah, now I’m hoofing it and there’s a killer loose—pr
obably in my truck.”
“The ranger told us he got away on foot,” Michael said. “They’re looking for someone on foot.”
“Yeah, that’s what they thought at first, until I found out my truck was gone. I called it in, then hitched a ride down here.” He glanced at the others. “Don’t know how I’m going to get home.” He looked at Keith, then Michael. “Are you, by any chance, heading down the hill—I mean, once they open the road?”
Keith winced. “No. But I hear there’s a shuttle that takes passengers to the village, if that would help.”
“Thanks.”
After sitting silently for a few moments, Michael said, “Tell me something, Brad; are you the one who identified the… um… suspect?”
He looked nervously around the room. “No. I don’t know who that was. I heard a guy say someone saw him disappear into the brush…” He glanced around the room again and said, “I’d better see about getting on that shuttle you told me about. Do you know where I can catch it?”
Keith pointed. “Wanda should be able to give you a schedule—oh, here she comes.” When she drew near, he asked, “Wanda, do you have a shuttle schedule?”
“Yeah, but it won’t do you no good today. Sheriff shut it down. They put up roadblocks. They don’t want anyone coming up here or leaving this area.”
“Until when?” Brad cranked.
She shrugged. “Until they reverse the order, I guess. I don’t know.”
“But they know who did it—I mean, who killed that guy,” Brad said. “They’re after someone called the hermit.”
A man who’d just walked in and sat down at a nearby table leaned toward Brad. “Hey, you heard they shot the old hermit didn’t you?”
Savannah gasped.
Michael and Keith looked at each other.
The man removed his hat and slapped it against his leg before putting it back on his head. “Yeah, they think he’s hurt pretty bad.”
“Are you sure about that?” Keith asked.
“Yeah, heard it from a ranger up the road a ways. He said they’re pretty sure they hit him and they expect to catch up to him soon.” He glanced out the window. “They’ll probably bring him right past here anytime now, on their way to the mountain infirmary just up the road there.”
Another man said, “Yeah, or on down the road to the morgue.”
“Then the roadblock must be cleared, right?” Brad asked. He called out into the room, “Is there anyone who’ll give me a ride down the hill?” He pulled a wad of twenties from his pocket. “I’ll pay.”
“Heck yeah,” replied a college-age man who’d been standing nearby. “I’ll take you down. What’s it worth to you?”
“Twenty?” Brad suggested. When he saw the look on the younger man’s face, he said, “Okay, forty.”
“Yeah, sure. Forty bucks. Come on, let’s go.”
The two couples watched as Brad slid out from behind the table and followed two young men into the parking lot.
“There’s something odd about that guy,” Savannah said.
“Yes, isn’t there?” Holly agreed.
“Why would you say that?” Keith asked, frowning.
“Well, he just seems nervous or something,” Savannah explained.
Keith chuckled. “Yeah, he lost an opportunity to do some fishing. That’s a critical loss.” He gave the women a sideways glance. “Right up there with losing a wife.”
Michael grinned at his brother’s attempt at humor, then became more serious. “So what shall we do?”
Keith grimaced. “I’d like to know if they have him in custody, or is he…?” He shook his head and sighed deeply. “But I guess the authorities won’t give out that kind of information yet.”
Michael nodded. “You’re probably right. We might as well go make vegetable insects with the kids.”
“Yeah, let’s do that,” Keith agreed. “We can regroup—make some calls and find out where they’ve taken him and all. Do you girls want something to eat or drink while we’re here?”
“Yes,” Savannah said. “I’d love a tall glass of ginger iced tea.”
“Make mine lemonade,” Holly said. “Lots of ice.”
“Oh, that sounds good. Yeah, lemonade for me too,” Savannah said.
Just then, a couple of rangers stepped into the café and greeted Wanda.
“Hey,” she said, “what are you guys doing up here? Sounds like the fun’s all over.”
“Huh?”
She gestured toward the back of the restaurant. “Yeah, those guys over there said the road’s open and the guy’s been shot and probably apprehended.”
The rangers looked at each other. “Nope. They think they winged him, all right, but he’s still on the run. They’ve called for reinforcements. That’s what we’re doing here. Can we get some bottles of water to take on up with us?”
“So the road’s not open?” someone at the counter asked.
One ranger responded. “Yeah, as far as I know the road’s open. There’s a couple-a places where they’ve set up roadblocks. But that’s on the other side. This side’s open.”
Keith approached the rangers. “Sorry to bother you, but I’d like to ask—I heard the… um… suspect may have stolen a vehicle. Do you know if it has been recovered?”
The ranger said, “Yeah. Evidently they found a truck in a ditch with no one around it. But it doesn’t check out to be the victim’s vehicle. They don’t know what happened to his transportation—maybe he rode up here with someone else.”
Just then someone shouted, “Hey, when can we get back to fishing?”
“Yeah, we came up here to fish,” someone else called out, “not hang out in this tavern all day.”
When the din in the room became louder, the ranger put up a hand to silence the crowd. “We’ll make a call to Wanda or Al letting you know when you’re free to move about the park again. It shouldn’t be long, now. Just enjoy the food and drink while you’re here.”
Before the ranger could walk away, Keith asked, “So did they find the accused man’s prints in the truck or any other indication that he stole it?”
The ranger stared at Keith for a moment. “Oh, well, I don’t know all the details and, with an active case like this, things can change by the minute. We haven’t actually been formally briefed on the situation.”
Keith looked him in the eye. “Well, be sure to ask that question when you meet up with the other authorities. It could be that they’re going after the wrong man.”
“Yeah, we’ll do that,” the ranger said, quickly taking a cup of coffee and a bag full of water bottles from Wanda and leaving with the second ranger.
“Let’s order our drinks to go,” Keith suggested, when he joined Michael and the women at the table. “I’d like to do some sleuthing.”
“How?” Michael asked. “What do you have in mind?”
“I think we ought to look around the crime scene.”
“Oh come on; they won’t let us anywhere near there.”
“Maybe they will,” Keith said. “Maybe they aren’t searching for the right things in the right places.”
Michael thought for a moment, then said, “Well okay; let’s go, Sherlock. I’ll pick up the drinks at the counter.” But before he could step away from the table, he frowned. “Hon, looks like your cat found something to entertain himself.”
Savannah reached for the object Michael indicated. “Where did this come from?”
“I don’t know, what is it?” Michael asked.
Savannah turned it over a couple of times before saying, “A book of matches.”
“Now that’s just what he needs,” Michael said. “One chomp on that with his teeth or a scratch with his claws and he could start that whole thing on fire.”
Savannah shuddered. She stuffed the matchbook into her pocket and picked up Rags, who’d been hanging out under the table.
“Where to?” Michael asked as he joined the others in the
Jeep with their beverages.
“How about we go back to the area we were kicked out of this morning?” Keith said. “They may have moved on out of there.”
“Let’s go,” Michael said. After thinking about it, he asked, “But don’t you think Scott would want to get out of there as fast as he could?”
“He knows these hills, and I imagine he knows a little about evading people. I’d say he figures as we do, that the authorities have moved on, thinking he’s moved on.” He turned to the women in the backseat. “Ready to hike?”
“I am,” Savannah said.
Holly nodded.
“Michael, did you bring some way to carry Rags?” Savannah asked.
“Sure did.” After they’d traveled several miles by car, Michael asked, “Hon, do you still have that matchbook you took away from Rags? I want to take a look at it.”
She pulled it out of her pocket. Before handing it to Michael, she read. “La Linda Realty in Denver.”
From the driver’s seat, Keith said, “Hey everyone, watch for that guy’s truck, would you?”
Michael handed the matchbook back to Savannah and sat forward in his seat. “The one the ranger told you is in a ditch?”
Keith nodded. “It’s probably along this road someplace, wouldn’t you think so? I believe this is the only way into this area.”
****
Thirty minutes later, Holly sat up straight and pointed. “What’s that?”
“What?” Keith asked, looking at her in the rearview mirror.
“Looks like a stalled truck up ahead. See, it’s all catawampus.”
As they approached the silver pickup, Savannah said, “That’s probably not the victim’s truck.” When the others looked at her, she explained, “Well, you wouldn’t expect the rangers to abandon it if they thought it belonged to the victim—or the killer, either one.”
“Maybe they haven’t found it,” Holly suggested.
Keith nodded. “They’re aware of it… at least, according to those rangers I talked to at the Ridgecrest.” He stopped the car near where the vehicle sat stranded and looked around, eventually suggesting, “Let’s check it out.”
“It’s stuck, all right,” Michael said, “and perched right on the edge of the cliff there, ready to roll. I wouldn’t want to try driving it out of there. It just might topple over the edge.” He looked into the distance. “But why they didn’t leave someone here to watch the truck is a puzzle to me.”
