Fall Hunter

by M K Dymock

  Blake chatted with a few of the searchers who’d spent the day scouring the roads. One, a farmer, left his hay unbaled in the field to join the search. “Maybe you ought to head home and bale it,” one of the other guys advised. “Supposed to rain tomorrow; you’ll lose the whole crop.”

  Farmer shook his head. “Won’t matter if I save the crop if we lose Keen. In July, when I ran out of baling twine, she drove it out to the farm. Took her half a day, and she refused to let me pay extra.”

  Blake didn’t know much about farming but knew hay farmers averaged about two crops a year, three if they were lucky in this shortened season. This guy risked losing at least a third of his paycheck to spend one day searching for a girl.

  The mayor pulled into the church parking lot. Trust him to wait until the search crews returned to show up. He greeted several of the people as they got out of their cars with a somber smile, some thanks, and a double handshake. The man had ambition. Blake did too, but the constant politicking wasn’t something that came naturally to him. He observed his father-in-law’s skill at it. The mayor made eye contact and gestured for him to follow.

  Blake followed him through the back door of the church into a room that, judging by the toys, served as the daycare. The mayor wasted no time in closing the door behind him and turning to Blake. “What’s the update, son?”

  The “son” rankled Blake each time he said it. William used it more as manipulation than affection. “We’re thinking she got lost or was in an accident up the mountains. Sol is tracking the trails and the search parties in the valley are checking the roads she might’ve taken and putting out flyers.”

  “Daniel and Elizabeth Dawson are leaders in this community, and we need to do all we can to find their daughter.”

  “As opposed to someone’s daughter who didn’t vote for you.”

  “Don’t be an ass; you of all people know what I mean.”

  Blake knew. Being sheriff was an elected post and what you did mattered less than how you looked doing it. “We’re doing all we can.”

  “Good. I’m going to talk to the Dawsons now. Any good news I can give them?”

  “We’re hoping to have several hundred people searching tomorrow. If she’s around, we’ll find her.”

  “What does Sol think?”

  “He wants less people on the mountain.”

  “You didn’t keep them out of his way?”

  Blake took a step back at the reproach in the mayor’s tone, stumbling over a doll that cried out, “Mama.” He kicked it away. “I did the best I could, but you encouraged them to come.”

  “Ten years and you still don’t know this town.” He gestured to the window where the crowd still gathered. “Everyone knew she went missing, and if I hadn’t given people a place and a time to show up, you would’ve had them dropping in or calling all day wondering what to do. Or worse, they’d be searching on their own.”

  “We could’ve told them to stay away.”

  “And upset a lot of folks who only want to help? No, people need to feel useful even when they’re not. Keep them out of Sol’s way; he’s our best chance.” William stood and left without another word, leaving Blake always feeling like he lost a game he didn’t know the rules to yet.

  As Blake walked out the church doors, Sol pulled into the parking lot just ahead of nightfall. Since he didn’t radio ahead, Blake knew the search had been futile. He jumped into the passenger seat of Sol’s truck before Sol could get out. He wanted the privacy of the cab before everyone crowded around with questions. Empty protein bar wrappers and a water jug littered the floorboard.

  Sol pulled out a bandana and wiped it across his forehead. He stared through the windshield and Blake waited for him to find the words. “I went down a different trail, one her dad thought she was unlikely to go to since it’s harder terrain. I found a few mountain bike tracks. Two or three looked to be a few days old, one might’ve been a woman’s bike.”

  Through the windshield, Blake watched as people lined up at a food trailer provided by Beth’s. Other than the somber feel, it could’ve been a town picnic. “How can you tell it was a woman?”

  “Lighter tread, little thinner tire. I could be wrong.”

  “But you don’t think you are.”

  “No, I don’t think I am.” Sol rubbed his hand across the scruff that showed he missed a few shaves. “Before I went up, I studied her tracks in her yard, so I know what her tread looks like. I lost them once she hit the more popular trails.”

  “So, what do we do tomorrow?”

  “I’ll send some of my people farther down the green trail in case I’m wrong. We’ll still need a few groups on the river. What are you up to?”

  “I want to focus on the other side of it.”

  “Which is?”

  “Someone saw her, whether they drove past her, talked to her, or even did something to her. If we can find that someone, we can narrow down the search area. We have people who saw her on the roads, but no one on the trail.”

  A couple of teenage boys set their plates full of hamburgers and chips on the hood of Sol’s Jeep. One showed the other something on his phone, and Blake reminded himself to make sure that Keen’s photo had gone out on social media.

  “We’re bringing in dogs tomorrow from another county,” Sol said. “Supposed to come today, but they pulled into another search. Maybe they’ll sniff something out.”

  Clint pulled into the parking lot next to them, and Blake got out of the Jeep. “Talk to me before morning,” he said to Sol as he slammed the door.

  Blake motioned for Clint to follow him to the church, as his father-in-law had done to him. “Find out anything more?” he asked once they were in private.

  Clint reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I went to the bar to talk to the owner with the names we got from Mina’s friend. He remembers the two well. If you can believe it, they were driving a black Hummer. Must have daddy’s money.”

  “And mama’s. You get a last name?”

  “No, but it just so happened I pulled over a black Hummer a few months back. I let them off with a warning, but I ran the registration and the guy’s license. Both had addresses and numbers for Connecticut. Probably the parents’ homes, but I didn’t get any answers.”

  A couple of kids laughed outside the church, reminding Blake that life doesn’t hold still, and parents will take their kids to the most inappropriate places as long as there’s free food.

  “Call back. Tell them you don’t know where their kids are and you’re concerned about their safety. In the meantime, ask around. A couple of little pricks driving a big car like that are getting attention.”

  “You think it’s something?”

  “Guys like that don’t take rejection well.”

  Clint pulled out his phone and left the message. The parents called back within five minutes with local addresses for the two boys.

  “I’ll drive out there tonight,” Clint said.

  “I’ll come with you. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the little punks know something.”

  15

  Wednesday Night

  Keen watched for Jupiter to make its presence known, wanting that little bit of light as comfort. Her dad always said the stars were a far better nightlight than what could be plugged into the wall.

  The peaceful quiet belied the events of the previous days. Had her kidnapper abandoned the chase, leaving her to die in the wilderness? As much as she wanted to believe it, she wouldn’t take that chance.

  Keen had dug another hole to sleep in, only this one she lined with dead needles. The place she chose lay in the hills, surrounded by rock but with a view of the area. Not trusting that her pursuer wouldn’t sneak in from the darkness, she bedded down about a quarter mile from the trough after attempting to wipe away most of her tracks with a pinyon branch.

  She couldn’t do anything about the tracks around the trough preserved in the mud, but she followed the trail for about 100 yards before taking h
er shoes off to return. If he did come, maybe he would assume she headed out on the trail.

  As Venus flickered in the darkening sky, a light flashed in the distance. The second she saw it, it disappeared. Keen jumped to her feet. The light flashed again, this time two of them. Headlights? They were at such a distance, the stars seemed brighter. They came closer and closer. Keen scrambled higher up the hill and settled into a stand of cedar trees.

  The lights stopped at what had to be the trough. Too far away to hear or see much as hard as she strained.

  “Bastards,” she whispered. That was her only source of water.

  After a while, the headlights disappeared again, leaving in the same direction as the road. If it had been her attacker, wouldn’t he have stayed longer to search for her? Why else would anyone come out here this late? Had he driven off and then returned with his lights off to draw her out? No one could be trusted; she would walk out tomorrow on her own.

  As the stars brightened the night sky, Keen ripped a dead branch off a cedar tree. “Come on,” she whispered into the darkness. “I’m still alive.”

  Blake couldn’t leave right away to chase down their lead, as decisions about the next morning had to be made—most importantly where to search now. The obvious trails had been ruled out.

  Blake found Clint leaning against the Tahoe talking to Mina. He laughed a little too much at some story she told about a tourist skier in a fluorescent one-piece thinking he could drop a black diamond on his first day on skis.

  “Clint,” Blake interrupted. “Let’s go.” Clint straightened at the tone in Blake’s voice and jumped into the Tahoe without another word.

  They pulled out onto the dark highway, and Blake waited for the silence to be uncomfortable before speaking. “People are talking.”

  Clint’s lengthy body stiffened. “About?”

  Personally, Blake didn’t care if his deputy messed with Mrs. Colbie, an eighty-year-old who put flowers on each grave every Memorial Day, but what his deputy did reflected on him and the department. “Mina is quite your little buddy.”

  Clint glanced out the window to stare at a darkened sky. “She and I aren’t doing anything. We just talk.”

  Being sheriff ensured he had a decent BS detector, and he waited in the silence. Clint didn’t last long. “I know Kate and I are having problems, but I would never mess around on my wife.”

  “Why don’t you just get divorced?” Blake was often curious about people who stayed married when they sniped at each other all the time. He could name on one hand how many couples he knew who actually seemed to like one another.

  “You know how this town is, Blake. A couple gets divorced and one of them ends up having to leave. You see each other at the store, at a party; eventually one person is forced to go. She’s got all her family here and I got no one left, so it’ll be me. And I am not leaving my son, my home.”

  Clint was right. If Blake’s marriage ever went south—which it wouldn’t—it would cost him all of that and his job. “Whatever you do, just keep it quiet.”

  “I’m not doing anything, but I’ll keep my distance from Mina.” He pulled out his phone, where he kept his notes. “By the way, I tracked down that number Elizabeth said Keen called.”

  “And?”

  “Prepaid cell. Want me to trace where it was bought?”

  “When you get a second. As unreliable as cell phones are here, a lot of people buy use-as-you-go phones.”

  The sign announcing a new county flashed by. “You going to let the Summit sheriff know we’re coming?”

  “Sheriff Briggs said we could question whomever. Just told me not to ever wake him up unless it’s urgent. He keeps banker hours.”

  On the edge of town, they pulled into a trailer home with a porch built out of cinder blocks. Nothing, not even the driveway, was paved. Housing was hard to come by in the area. Seasonal workers piled in with each other in whatever shelter they could. Most didn’t mind, as they spent the greater part of the days outdoors. The only yard was what Mother Nature herself grew, and beyond a few tufts of sagebrush, she didn’t deem this area fit for much.

  A Hummer, which cost more than the land it was parked on, sat next to the house. “Definitely the right place,” Clint said. “We’re looking for a Sebastian and a Camden.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. In fact, we’ve got a Camden Gregerson III. I guess it’s important if you’re going to raise a d-bag, you label him one from the beginning.”

  Blake stifled a laugh as he pulled the keys out of ignition. “I want you to go around back and wait.”

  JAY-Z blared from within the house as Blake knocked and knocked again. The door cracked open a few inches and he resisted the urge to push it in. After a few minutes, the music came down and a guy pulled open the door.

  The guy who answered definitely cost more than the house he inhabited. He looked more hipster than white trash. He had on a pair of hiking pants that zipped off at the knee. His dark curly hair matched the small amount of chest hair above solid abs. The man took a step back in surprise at the sight of a sheriff standing at his door. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, I’m Sheriff McKenzie from Lost Gorge. You Camden?”

  The man nodded, if a bit warily.

  “Can we talk for a sec?”

  The kid looked over his shoulder inside the house and Blake guessed by the smell that he was assessing where the weed was. “Let’s talk outside,” Camden said. “It’s too stuffy in here anyhow.” And by that answer, Blake could guess the weed hadn’t been hidden all that well.

  “Sure. It’s a nice evening.” The night breeze carried the scent of the sagebrush from the west hills. A few camp chairs surrounded a dead fire pit, and Camden sat in one with Blake across. A lone front porch light lit up the yard.

  “What’s up?”

  “Well, Camden, I’m assuming you heard we’ve got a woman missing.”

  Camden looked confused and glanced back at the house. “No, I hadn’t.”

  “Haven’t heard it on the radio or seen any of the flyers?”

  Understanding brightened his hazy eyes. “Oh, yeah. I think I saw a flyer at the gas station, but we’re kind of off the grid out here.” The last part of that sentence came out a little boastful. “What’s that got to do with us?”

  Interesting that he’d included in that sentence his unseen friend. “We’re running down all the people who were biking in the Pines on Monday. That’s about when she went missing, and we thought someone might’ve seen her.”

  Something loud fell on the ground behind them in the house. The man jerked his head around.

  “Can your friend come out and talk?” Blake asked.

  “Friend?”

  “Friend or the largest cat I’ve ever heard.”

  Camden kicked apart a few black embers at his feet. “My roommate isn’t feeling so well.”

  The party had already begun. “Your nose is probably too burned out to notice, but your place smells like pot, which gives me justifiable reason to go in.” It didn’t exactly, since he was out of his jurisdiction. “So, either your friend comes out and you answer my questions, or I go in and take what I find.”

  A squeaky door opened and the friend came out, also shirtless and with a vacant look in his eye. While Camden was short and skinny and probably relied on his money to land a date, the new guy, Sebastian, had the blond hair and tan of a surfer. Clint came around the side of the house but didn’t speak, only stood watching the other men, who were oblivious to his presence.

  “Hey, man,” said Sebastian.

  “Sheriff.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s sheriff.”

  “Okay, we’re just recreating, right. Nothing big.”

  Blake pulled a half-burnt stick out of the pit and jabbed a few embers. “Were you just recreating on Monday? Something to celebrate the weekend, maybe?”

  Camden shook his head before Blake stopped speaking. “No, we weren’t driving high.” Th
is statement proved him the smarter of the two.

  Blake stuck the stick in the ground with one thrust. “But you were biking on Monday, and you saw her.”

  “No.”

  “Heard she rejected you flat. That had to hurt.”

  Sebastian burst out laughing. “Shot him down harder than when he crashed his bike.”

  Blake laughed along with him. “I bet he was pissed some local chick didn’t climb right into his car.”

  “And on other things.”

  “Shut up, man,” Camden said. “I never saw that girl, and I’m not saying anything without a lawyer. Your little tin badge isn’t going to bust us for smoking a little pot.”

  Blake dropped the blackened stick. Some people had to be taught respect for authority.

  16

  Elizabeth had spent another fruitless day hiking up and down the Gorge. Sun ended the day’s search in the canyon earlier than it had any right to, as the high cliffs made for shortened days. The pull on her well-trained muscles was nothing compared to her soul. Grace had left the search earlier in the day, at Elizabeth’s insistence, to pick up her kids from school.

  After a futile meeting with Blake and William, she returned to Keen’s room to turn on her laptop again. It refused to turn on, dead from the constant refreshing she’d done in her desperation to find a phone signal. It took three tries with her uncooperative fingers to unzip the side pocket of the messenger bag to yank out the cord, and another two tries to get it plugged in. As the screen came alive, she clenched the laptop, wishing she knew how to get rid of what faced her. Her baby’s beautiful smile shone in a photo snapped on a four-day packing trip, now the background of Keen’s desktop.

  The app still couldn’t find Keen. Wherever the phone was, it was off or out of service. Blake said he’d tried pinging the phone but that it brought the same result. Elizabeth knew in her mind the battery had to be long dead, but she kept trying to find a signal to her daughter.