TWO TO DIE FOR

by Allison Brennan

  Sean looked to the west and concurred. The path was well worn, and dog prints were evident, though because of the leaves and pine needles it was difficult to tell if the prints were coming or going.

  Sean whistled and Bandit came to him. “Find Hank,” Sean said.

  Bandit had no idea what Sean meant. He stared at him, expectant.

  “I have an idea,” Lucy said. She went down the stairs to Hank’s Jeep and came back with a sweatshirt. “Try this.”

  “Good idea.” Sean squatted and put the sweatshirt under Bandit’s nose. Bandit sniffed frantically, then looked at Sean. “Find Hank, Bandit.”

  Sean started up the path, Lucy behind him. Bandit hesitated, then ran ahead of them. Maybe Bandit had no idea what they wanted from him, but he should be able to recognize his owner’s scent.

  Sean and Lucy hiked in silence. The slope wasn’t too steep, between five and ten degrees, but it was a steady incline and Sean set a brisk pace. Every so often Sean spotted a neon flag—either the county or Hank himself had marked places on the path. Maybe to help stay on the trail? For another reason? Bandit disappeared from view now and again, but always came back after a few minutes. Sean checked his tablet periodically to make sure he knew exactly where they were.

  Though Sean wasn’t particularly an outdoorsy person, he enjoyed the peace and physical labor of hiking, especially early in the morning. He lamented that their honeymoon had been interrupted by Hank’s disappearance. By anything. He’d wanted these two weeks to be perfect. He and Lucy had been to hell and back. They both deserved a chance to relax. Why was it that trouble followed them? They weren’t even looking for it this time. He couldn’t say that they were innocent bystanders all the time—their careers generally called for them to solve problems—but this week he’d planned to do nothing except spend every moment with Lucy.

  He hadn’t realized that Lucy had stopped until he glanced over his shoulder and saw her nearly twenty feet back.

  “What?” he asked. “See something?”

  “Where’s Bandit?”

  Bandit hadn’t returned for more than ten minutes. Sean whistled, then looked at his tablet while Lucy caught up to him. They drank water, then Sean said, “We’re only a quarter mile as the crow flies to the access road, but it’s too steep here to go straight up.” He whistled again for the dog, though he wasn’t certain that Bandit understood the whistle.

  Bandit barked. They couldn’t see him, but he wasn’t too far off.

  They picked up the pace and wound through the trees. This steeper part of the trail was barely discernible—clearly not used as often as the trail was closer to Hank’s house.

  “Wait,” Sean said. “Bandit is to the north of us—the road is to the west. He must have cut through.” He whistled again and a few minutes later, Bandit came running through the trees toward them.

  They turned away from the trail and headed toward the dog, who waited to make sure they were following as soon as he saw them, then ran back the way he came.

  Five minutes later, they came across a wide clearing. Five-foot-tall mounds of dirt and rocks lined the area, which was flatter than the slope they’d been hiking on. Sean looked at his map, waited until the GPS adjusted to their new location, and said, “We’re on the Cannons’ property—actually, probably just where Hank’s northern boundary meets up with the Cannons’ southern boundary. There’s a deep valley two hundred yards to the north, and the government property line is,” he adjusted his tablet, “only twenty, thirty yards from here. The road isn’t far, either.”

  “What is this?” Lucy gestured toward the dirt. “Someone camping? Illegal dumping?”

  Sean squatted, ran his hands through the damp soil, then moved to another pile, which was dryer. “This isn’t my area of expertise, but it looks like someone’s been mining. These piles look like dirt after it’s been sifted through. It’s not quite thick enough to be sludge, but close, and made over time. Five piles, five days, most likely.” He paused, looked up.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “A power source.” He didn’t see cameras, and there was no equipment here. He walked west, toward the road, and that’s when he noticed deep tire tracks. “Lucy,” he called.

  She came over. “It’s clear that there was a truck here, and see this?” Sean squatted and pointed to narrower tracks. “I think,” he glanced at the mounds of dirt behind them, then at the tracks, “someone had a trammel.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s a machine that sifts through rock and dirt to separate gold.”

  “Gold?”

  “He’d need a water source, though he could bring plenty and recycle it through.” Though practically, Sean wasn’t certain how it would work. “And a generator—maybe there are some trammels with built-in generators, but I’d have to research. I’m guessing a separate generator because he’d need light to work at night.”

  “He who? Hank?”

  “Doubtful. But the noise we heard? It definitely could have been a generator. Something powerful and small, but the sound would carry. And a trammel would have to be towed—at least one big enough to make these piles. There’ll be evidence of it on the road.” Sean walked over to the edge of the clearing and found a large wet area—it had been too cold last night for it to evaporate. The top was icy to the touch. Deep impressions in the rocky soil had been made by heavy machinery. Tire tracks were also evident, as if the trammel had been backed in between the trees.

  “Can he do that in the middle of the night?”

  “Sure, with lights. Especially if he knew exactly what he was doing and prepared the area ahead of time. I didn’t think there was gold up here, but that’s definitely out of my area of expertise. I recognize the mining because there are piles like this—much larger, of course—all over the Gold Country near where I grew up.”

  Lucy squatted near one of the piles of dirt. “Sean, come here.”

  He walked over. At first he didn’t see what she saw, then it was all too clear.

  This pile of dirt had collapsed. There were footprints all over, clearly a scuffle in the mud. “There was a fight here.”

  “Doesn’t mean it was Hank,” Sean said. But who else? Hank planned to come up here, and now he was missing. Illegal mining, signs of a fight—it was probably the miner and Hank. “Before we jump to any conclusions, let’s search the area. See if we find him.” He whistled for Bandit, who ran over. Sean gave him water by pouring slowly from his water bottle, then had him smell Hank’s sweatshirt again. “Find Hank.”

  Bandit ran around in a circle and looked at Sean, his tongue hanging out. He had no idea what Sean wanted. Sean scratched him behind the ears. Where was Hank now? If he’d been here, where’d he go?

  Other than the disturbance around this pile of dirt, Sean couldn’t find any other sign that someone had been injured or attacked. “Luce, take the east side of the clearing, I’ll take the west up to the road. Watch the terrain. It drops off steeply not far from here. Have your radio?”

  “Got it.” Lucy turned on her flashlight. It wasn’t dark, but the light would help her search under bushes and, if Sean had to admit, see what might be blood or other signs of violence.

  Sean followed the deep path forged by the truck and trammel. Close to the road, it was clear the vehicle had become stuck, and the driver used four-wheel drive to pull himself out. Sean walked slowly up and down the packed gravel road, searching for anything—clothing, clear tire marks that he could photograph, blood, even garbage that might help him track whoever had been mining. No way was this mining legit. Whoever was responsible worked in the middle of the night, alone or with a single partner.

  Bandit stayed at his side, as if waiting for orders—though Sean doubted Bandit would understand much of what Sean said. He squatted for a minute and gave Bandit more water from his bottle.

  “Okay, buddy, let’s see if we can find Hank.”

  If someone was mining up here, especially without a permit or sanction,
there could be holes in the earth or loose ground that might shift and give away, creating dangerous terrain. Easy to slip, fall, break a leg.

  Or die. But Sean didn’t want to think of that.

  North of the clearing, toward the Cannon property, he found a small but well-used area where he suspected the trammel had been stored—several deep crevices indicated where it had rested, and branches and bushes had been broken and pulled from the earth, as if someone had used them as camouflage. If it were him, he wouldn’t want to trek up and down this road pulling a trammel—it would look suspicious, especially since there was no regular mining operation in the area. Sean walked back to the road and looked down toward the clearing—if anyone was hiking along the road, they wouldn’t see anything other than the impressions in the dirt—and on the surface, they didn’t look suspicious.

  Hank wasn’t mining, otherwise he wouldn’t have commented to Sean about the noises he’d heard. The Cannons? While Sean had a good idea where the property line was, this clearing could fall on one or both sides of the line. He didn’t see two retired folks mining for gold in the middle of the night.

  He crossed the road to see if the properties on the west had any clear access points to the federal land. All he saw were several No Trespassing signs. He glanced down at his tablet. Most of the property to the west was owned by a guy named Platt. Sean had meant to run the guy, but he’d been so preoccupied with making sure he had the right maps he’d forgot. Lack of sleep and worry about Hank. The name sounded familiar, but it wasn’t uncommon.

  Something out of place caught his eye. He looked up and saw a security camera mounted on a tree. The tree was on federal land, but it abutted the Platt property. Was the camera running 24/7? Was it motion only? Sound? A dummy camera? Sean couldn’t tell without getting closer, but if Platt had cameras here, he might have cameras elsewhere. If Sean could look at the footage he might be able to identify who was mining, which could lead to what happened to Hank. And if Hank showed up on the tapes, they could narrow down the timeframe of when he disappeared.

  Bandit froze in the middle of the road, his fur rising on the back of his neck.

  Sean immediately drew his handgun. But before he could turn around, a voice behind him said, “Freeze. No sudden movements or I will shoot.”

  Chapter Six

  Lucy knelt down and inspected a deep depression on the far side of the clearing. She wanted to go down farther to check it out, but this side of the mountain was increasingly steep, and it would be easy for someone to lose their footing. She wouldn’t even begin to know how to get out of the area, other than to pull out her compass and head east, which would eventually—she thought—take her to her house, if she could navigate the steep and rocky terrain.

  She could see Hank coming up the trail at dusk, perhaps, and losing his footing. She was young and physically fit and had already slipped twice. It could have been simply an accident—or negligence, if the miner had left the earth in such a state that it created a hazard for others. Search dogs would be in order—if Hank had fallen down the mountainside, they would need help to find him.

  Lucy headed back toward the mining site, then up the path where Sean had gone, following the tire marks. She heard a deep male voice—it wasn’t Sean. She pulled her gun, and ran as silently as possible toward the voice.

  “Slowly, asshole,” a tall, broad-shouldered man was saying. His back was to Lucy and he had a gun aimed at Sean, who faced away from him.

  “I live near here,” Sean said.

  “Right. We’ll see exactly what you’re up to, buddy. Drop the gun now. Three. Two.”

  Sean put the gun down and kept his hands visible. He slowly turned around to face his captor, and in doing so, saw Lucy. He didn’t give any indication that he’d seen her.

  Lucy didn’t recognize the guy who had a gun on Sean. He looked almost like a cowboy in a hat, jeans, and loose-fitting jacket. Was he the one who’d been mining? Did he have something to do with Hank’s disappearance? Or was he a local? She couldn’t take the risk, not when he was armed.

  “FBI!” Lucy shouted. “Put your hands where I can see them!”

  The guy froze. “I don’t fucking believe this.” He slowly turned so he could keep Sean in sight. He didn’t so much as waver, which told Lucy that he was confident with his firearm.

  “Put the gun down, little lady.”

  “Special Agent Lucy Kincaid.”

  He eyed her as if assessing whether she was telling the truth. She didn’t want this to deteriorate into a shooting. She didn’t want to kill someone—but he still had his gun aimed at Sean.

  “Look—how about if we both holster our weapons and you can show me some ID?”

  “Put your gun down now and then I’ll show you my identification.”

  Maybe it was something in her face, or her tone, but the guy flipped the gun over so it dangled from his finger, then he holstered it in the back of his jeans.

  Lucy didn’t put her gun away, but she lowered the barrel and pulled out her badge and ID. She tossed it to him.

  He opened up her wallet. “So you’re not lying.”

  She glanced at Sean and nodded. She holstered her weapon while Sean picked up his gun and approached them.

  The stranger tossed Lucy’s ID back at her.

  Sean was angry. “Do you always go pulling a gun on hikers, asshole?”

  “You’re trespassing.”

  “This road and fifty feet in either direction is federal land,” Sean said.

  The guy looked from Sean to Lucy. “Why are you here? Don’t tell me it’s official business.”

  “We live off High Glen Road, and our neighbor went missing yesterday,” Lucy said. “We have reason to believe he came up here.”

  “I haven’t seen anyone, though there has been some asshole driving his truck through here in the middle of the night last couple of nights. Possibly longer, but I just arrived with my boss two days ago. I haven’t been able to get eyes on the driver yet, but I will.”

  “Do you have identification?”

  “Sorry, ma’am, name is Jim Kline. I work for Mr. Platt. Personal security. We arrived Thursday afternoon.”

  “Platt,” Sean mumbled. Then his expression changed. “Cyrus Platt?”

  “Yes.” Jim’s voice was clipped and he eyed Sean with suspicion.

  Sean said to Lucy, “Cyrus Platt’s a financial genius. I’m familiar with his business.”

  Sean was clearly impressed, which was rare considering Sean was pretty smart with finances himself.

  “Sean Rogan,” Sean said. “Are those dummy cameras?” He gestured to a camera high in a tree.

  “No, but we only recently realized that someone had cut the feeds. We don’t know when. We activate them when Mr. Platt is in town. I travel with him, and the house is usually empty when he’s not here.”

  “Our neighbor was investigating noises he heard in the middle of the night, and now he’s missing. Lucy and I discovered what we think is illegal mining on the other side of the road, down about forty yards. You can’t see it from here.” He gestured up the road and to the east. “You can see the tire impressions there, going off the road. It might not seem suspicious—someone could easily think a truck was turning around or it was a service vehicle. But he set up a nice little operation.”

  “Mining?” Jim questioned. “Are you certain?”

  “Almost positive,” Sean said. “I’m handy with security systems. Could I have a look at yours? I might be able to get something from it.”

  “Like I said, we only activate perimeter security when we’re on site, and that wasn’t until Thursday—none of these cameras were operational before then, and we filed a report with our security company to look at the external cameras and get them back on line, but they’re not working yet.”

  “But other cameras are, correct?”

  “I don’t know what you’re getting at, Mr. Rogan.”

  Sean pulled out his wallet and handed Jim his business
card. “I work for a security company. Check my credentials. If there is any chance that your cameras caught sight of the truck that hauled the mining equipment, or Hank, we need to explore the option.”

  “Wait here.” Jim walked away and pulled out a cell phone. He talked to someone, but Lucy couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  She walked over to Sean and put her arm around his waist, then kissed him. “When I saw him holding a gun on you—I saw red. But training won out.”

  “I can’t believe he got the jump on me. I was preoccupied, didn’t hear him until Bandit growled.” Sean whistled and Bandit returned from wherever he’d gone off to. He wished Bandit didn’t wander so far, but at least he understood Sean’s whistle.

  “Do you believe him? About the cameras and not knowing about the mining?”

  Sean nodded. “I know who Cyrus Platt is. He’s brilliant, but not well-liked. A financial whiz—I don’t say that lightly—but he’s disbanded companies that have underperformed and pissed off a lot of people. He’s been known to exploit performance clauses to prevent paying out bonuses to high-paid CEOs and the like when companies have struggled. So CEOs don’t like him, and sometimes when a company gets broken up and sold, other people lose their jobs too. Needless to say, he makes a lot of enemies. I’m not surprised he has a bodyguard on staff.”

  “You think you can learn something from his security system?”

  “I won’t know until I get my hands on it. Even though they didn’t have these cameras running, I can probably figure out when the system was disabled. And a guy like Platt is going to have operational cameras closer to the house. Maybe we can get something from the distance—or I can talk to their security company, ask if they had any other issues over the last week or so. Did you find anything?”

  “I may have. There was a disturbance in the earth on the far side of the clearing, but it’s really steep over there and I didn’t want to take any chances of falling down the mountain.”

  “I’m glad you’re being cautious, because this whole thing is just ... well, weird. I don’t have a good feeling, Luce.”