Murder on the Mountain
A Marshall Brothers Novel
Carolyn LaRoche
Murder on the Mountain © 2020 by Carolyn LaRoche
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
Murder on the Mountain is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For information, contact the publisher, Hot Tree Publishing.
www.hottreepublishing.com
Editing: Hot Tree Editing
Cover Designer: BookSmith Design
E-book: 978-1-922359-05-6
Paperback: 978-1-922359-06-3
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Publisher
For my boys.
You inspire me to be
a better person every single day.
One
Emma tripped over yet another root and whacked her face on a low-hanging branch, the bare wood dragging across her cheek and catching in her hair.
“Ahh!” The tangled mess yanked her head back until the branch snapped and momentum sent her stumbling forward.
“Ouch!” Grabbing on to a small boulder, she saved herself from a total face plant in the dirt. Her hands slipped on the rock, tearing a layer of moss off it and scraping her left palm. Emma wiped the green and red mess off on her jeans. “Gross.”
So much for stealth. Anyone else on the mountain had probably heard her coming four roots ago.
Her cheek felt wet. Emma touched it with her fingertips and inspected the red moisture. More blood. “Well, that’s gonna leave a mark.”
Wiping her hand on her jeans once more, next to the moss and mud stains, she continued trudging up the mountain to the serenade of crickets and croaking toads. The afternoon had already begun to slip away. If her source was right, an abandoned hunting cabin should sit nestled against the rocky mountain face about a five-minute walk from her current position. Emma pulled out her cell phone and checked the location against her present coordinates. Yup. She just had to follow the rough path a little bit further.
The way the sun had dropped below the tree tops told her it’d be dark by the time she headed back to her car. She’d tripped on roots in the light; hopefully her guardian angel would be on double duty to prevent her from breaking her neck on the way back down the slope. She needed to see that cabin though; it could be the link she’d been missing in her story.
“You’re definitely earning that pizza for dinner right now, girl.” Emma swiped at the sweat on her forehead with the sleeve of her fleece jacket and pushed forward until the path took a sharp turn to the right. Another hundred feet or so, and she entered a small clearing complete with the hunting cabin she’d been looking for. Bending at the waist, she took a few deep breaths to satisfy her oxygen-starved lungs.
The cabin sat in the middle of the clearing. Overgrown grass and brush filled the space between the trees and the cabin, browned and crisp this late in the fall. This side of the cabin showed no sign of human inhabitants.
Weathered wood and a rusty tin roof that had definitely seen better days made up the structure in front of her. A sagging front porch that barely looked attached wrapped around from the front to the only visible window.
The sun glinted off the hood of a shiny black sedan with darkly tinted windows that sat in the partially hidden driveway. It would have been nice if her source had mentioned she could drive up the mountain.
Of course, he’d also told her that no one would be here.
Emma pulled out her phone and hit the record function. “The cabin is small. One room, maybe two judging from the outside. Looks like there is only one way in. A black Lexus is parked out front, windows tinted too dark to see inside. Note to self, if I were a movie director, I’d definitely use this place for a B-grade serial killer movie. Also, another note to self, hiking a mountain is no longer on my bucket list. Not that it ever really was.”
Dusk had begun to settle over the mountain. Glancing from the cabin to the car, she debated her next move—leave undetected or risk being seen by whoever was in the cabin. The car in front of the cabin could belong to anyone. She’d bet real money, though, that it was no one she wanted to meet alone in the almost dark woods. Maybe just a quick look inside and then she’d get out of there. Emma tucked her phone in the inside pocket of her fleece and crossed the small space to the cabin, taking extra care to be extremely quiet. When she reached the building, she moved to the side of the window and peeked in through a tiny opening in the ragged curtains, sucking in a breath.
A man stood in the center of the small room, the gun in his hand pressed against the temple of another man. The second man was tied to a chair and had a piece of shiny silver tape over his mouth.
The man with the gun said something and then pulled the trigger. A loud bang filled the air, and the man in the chair slumped forward.
Emma clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that tried to escape. The shooter looked toward the window. Had he heard her? She turned to run, her boots instead slipping on some leaves, sending her crashing to the ground.
Heavy footsteps moved across the floor of the cabin, echoing in the quiet woods around her.
Emma scrambled to her feet and ran for all she was worth, crashing through the brush, no longer even trying to be quiet.
The door to the cabin slammed open as she sprinted for the pathway back down the mountain to her car. The air reverberated with the echo of several gunshots. Tiny hairs prickled on the back of her neck as a light whistling noise passed her ear.
“Stop! I’m warning you! Stop or I’ll shoot you!” The man’s voice echoed off the trees but she kept running. It was a stupid thing to say, since he had already tried to shoot her. Her gut told her there was no way she’d get out of this alive if she stopped moving.
Halfway down the mountain, Emma’s toe caught one of those roots again. The action sent her sprawling to the ground, and she began to roll down the mountain. Grabbing at branches and brush, she finally stopped herself and pulled her aching body up off the ground. Her knee burned where the fabric had torn and flesh had scraped against the ground. Footsteps and voices sounded behind her, but they were further away than she’d expected. Her little fall seemed
to have given her an advantage. She pulled herself up, ignoring the pain in her injured knee, and ran as fast as she could.
The sun had almost completely become lost below the treetops; the darkness made it hard for her to navigate. Finally, Emma burst out of the trees, gasping for air and sweating like a fiend. Her old car sat quietly, right where she’d left it. She dug in her pocket for the keys, but they were gone.
She must have lost them on the way down! Running straight to the back of the car, Emma groped around up under the bumper. Her fingers grasped the small magnetic box and she pulled the hidden key out of its safe storage container, grateful her father had insisted on putting it there when she left for college. As she ran to the driver-side door, the back door window exploded beside her, covering her in tiny little pieces of glass.
Yanking open the driver door, she jumped into the seat, slammed the door shut, and jammed the key into the ignition. Just as the engine turned over and she floored the gas pedal, the man from the cabin ran out of the woods. Her tires ground into the shoulder, spewing a cloud of rocks and dirt. Eventually, she gained control of her car and took off down the mountain roadway known as the Blue Ridge Parkway. Clutching the wheel, she prayed she’d stay on the road.
All the way back to Staunton, she kept an eye on the rearview mirror. When a dark-colored car came into view, she panicked, but it had a different shape than the one she’d seen and turned off a couple of exits later. As soon as Emma hit the Main Street exit, she drove straight through town.
Twelve years she’d stayed away from Staunton, avoiding her hometown and missing her parents, to not have to do the very thing she was about to do. Emma took a deep breath and steered her car onto the street that housed the Staunton Police Department. She had no other choice. There was only one man who could help her figure this out.
She parked in front of the station, ignoring all the little pieces of glass that rained off her as she ran up the steps and pulled open the heavy front door. The entire station fell silent as she strode to the front desk, leaving a trail of leaves and little bits of broken glass behind her.
“I need to see Detective Adam Marshall. It’s an emergency.” She looked around the lobby. “I don’t even know what time it is. Is he even here?”
“He’s still here.” The officer behind the desk reached for the phone. “What happened, miss? Do you need a medic?”
“No! I’m fine. I mean, I’m not, but I am. Can you just get Detective Marshall for me, please?”
He set the phone back on the receiver. “Just wait right here and I’ll get him.”
“Don’t worry.” Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Sir?”
Adam looked up at the sound of the voice and tap on his office door. “What’s up, Murphy?”
“There is a—woman—at the desk demanding to see you. She says it’s an emergency.”
Adam narrowed his eyes at the young uniformed officer. The other man had a tendency toward the dramatic, but he’d proven himself in the field. At the moment, he looked really concerned. “Are you not sure if she is a woman?”
Officer Murphy shook his head. “It’s not that. You, um, have to see for yourself.”
“Okay.” Adam pushed his chair back from his desk and stood up. “Show me what you got.”
Adam followed him out to the lobby desk but froze when he saw the woman standing there. Sticks and leaves tangled in her shoulder-length brown waves. Dirt and dried blood smudged her face, a tear in her jeans bared a scraped knee, and her light blue fleece jacket had a variety of colorful stains on it. He hadn’t seen her in so long he might not have recognized her under all the debris, except he’d know that woman anywhere.
“Emma.” He walked a little closer. “What happened?” What he really wanted to ask was What are you doing here?
“We need to talk.” She glanced around at all the people staring at them. “In private.” Emma leaned in a little, lowering her voice, as though it would matter. “It’s about a crime.”
He motioned toward the way he’d come. “We can talk in my office.” To Murphy he said, “Please get Ms. Thomas a bottle of water.”
“Yes, sir.” Officer Murphy disappeared in the direction of the break room, and Adam led Emma to his office.
When they were inside and the door was closed, Emma collapsed into one of the chairs, shaking. Tears ran down her face, leaving streaks in the dirt as they trailed to her chin and dropped onto the front of her jacket.
Adam perched awkwardly on the edge of his desk, a box of tissues extended to her. Emma grabbed a couple and wiped at her eyes, then blew her nose.
“I’m sorry. I’m so not a crier.” She threw the tissues in the trash can. Her hands shook noticeably.
He remembered that about her. “It’s the adrenaline dump. Nothing to apologize for.” A knock sounded on the door. “Come in!” Adam called.
Officer Murphy walked in and handed the bottle of water to Emma. “Do you need anything else, miss?”
She shook her head, and Adam gave him a nod of dismissal.
“So, are you going to tell me what happened?” Adam finally asked. And maybe why you specifically asked for me out of all the cops in this precinct.
Emma nodded and wrung her hands in her lap. “Yes. I just—I need a minute to gather my thoughts.”
“How did you know I’d even be here?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t. I just hoped you would be.”
Adam walked over to the window and looked down at the street. A silver sedan, with a missing back window sat under the streetlamp. The light caused the inside of the car to sparkle, and suddenly Emma’s appearance made a little more sense.
“Emma? Did someone shoot at your car?”
She looked up at him, relief now mixing with the fear in her hazel eyes. “Six years as an investigative reporter and no one has ever fired at gun at me. Until today.”
“Do you know who it was?” Adam moved back over to where Emma sat, pulling the chair beside her around so he could sit and face her. “Emma? Do you?”
“I was looking into some—a tip for my newest exposé, and I saw a man shoot another man. I slipped and fell when I tried to run away. The shooter heard and chased me down the mountain. Just as I reached my car, he fired one last time.”
He listened as the words tumbled from her. Emma had witnessed a murder. He knew what that felt like. Ignoring the image of Leslie’s limp body lying on the floor of her apartment as well as the longing to wrap his arms around her and hold her close until the shaking stopped caught him off guard. “Do you have any idea who these men were?”
Emma shook her head. “There wasn’t supposed to be anyone at the cabin. I’d heard it was just a drop spot.”
“A drop for what?” Adam asked, praying she wasn’t talking about what he thought she might be.
Emma sighed. “I’ve been doing a series of stories on the supposed drug issues here in Staunton. You know, while I house-sit for my parents. I want to expose the people involved and put an end to the trafficking.”
Adam narrowed his eyes. “That has never been confirmed.”
“Please, Adam. I am not a fool. I do my job as well as you do yours.” Annoyance flashed in her eyes, highlighting the gold flecks scattered through the green irises.
He gave himself a mental shake, forcing a long-ago memory to go back to where he’d hidden it for over a decade. “Where did you go today?”
“A source told me about an abandoned hunting cabin just off the Blue Ridge Parkway. He thought it was a drop spot for the supposed traffickers. I just went up there looking for some drugs to take pictures of. You know, evidence. After I wrote my story, I planned to email you the details of the location. I didn’t know I’d stumble on a murder.”
Her voice shook a little, tugging at Adam’s heartstrings. It had been so long since he’d gotten to look at Emma, hear
her voice—he had made a conscious effort to avoid her since that night all those years ago. Even on social media, he skipped past any mention of her. But now, as she sat there looking so shaken and determined all at once, he found himself torn between throwing her out of his office and grabbing her up in a hug.
“Adam? Are you listening to me? I saw a man get murdered.”
Her frustration tugged his focus back to where it needed to be. “Yes, I heard you. I’m just trying to make sense of it all. You went up the mountain, on a hunch, to find a cabin that may or may not be part of a drug trafficking ring and witnessed a murder.”
“Yes!” she said, jumping up and pacing. “He killed that man. And I have no idea why.”
“Did you know the man?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I don’t have a clue who it was. Just some bad guy, I guess.”
“Are you sure he is dead?”
Emma glared at him. “Of course I’m sure! Are you going after the guy or not?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that. I don’t even know where you were.”
“I can show you.” She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him toward the door.
Adam pulled his hand free, holding it up in a sign of surrender. “Whoa! Hold on there, Emma. I can’t let you go back there.”
“Why not?” she demanded. A fire grew in her eyes that had a funny effect on his insides.
“Well, because someone just tried to kill you. And, if a murder did take place there, then it’s also a crime scene.”
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