“Marcella! You found her,” Quinn said.
He checked us over to be sure we were all right, turning us this way and that. “What the hell happened to you?”
I slid my arm around Kitty’s shoulders. “This little gal fell into some kind of open cavern off the side of the trail. I was worried when I saw her sprawled on the bottom; I thought she was unconscious.” I stroked her loose hair back from her face. “Then she got up, climbed up using the roots and vines on the side of the wall, and I helped heave her over the side at the last minute.”
Quinn hugged us both. “You two are unbelievable.” He turned Kitty toward him. “Did you hit your head, sweetie?”
Kitty felt around the back of her neck, then found a lump. She winced, but took Quinn’s fingers and gingerly placed them on the bump.
“Whoa. You’ve got quite a goose egg there.” He kissed her cheek. “Good thing you have such a tough skull. Do you feel dizzy or anything?”
Kitty shook her head.
“Okay, then. Let’s get you home.”
I touched Copper’s sleeve as we headed down the hill. “Did you catch those guys in the big rig?”
She shook her head. “No, but we’ve set up road blocks and it should be just a matter of time. I’m expecting a call any minute.”
As if on cue, Copper took a few calls on the phone on her belt, plugging one ear and turning away. When she was done, she walked with us back to the van and emergency vehicles with the flashing red lights.
“Marcie,” she said, catching my sleeve. “You’ve gotta hear this.”
We’d reached the van. I opened the back door and snapped on Dak’s leash. “Hear what?” I walked Dak to the grassy side of the road, where he relieved himself and started sniffing all over. I’d expended all my energy at this point and could hardly make myself sound interested. And I was mad. Boiling mad.
I spat my words through gritted teeth. “How did they find us?”
Copper put an arm around my shoulders. “They bugged Kitty’s clothing.”
“What?” I turned to look at her, remembered she was wearing my clothes, and then looked at the trash bag of clothes in the back of the van. “How? I didn’t see anything on them when I folded them a little while ago.”
“I know.” She fished a little electronic gadget out of her pocket. “Callie found it in the washing machine.”
I took the baggie marked “evidence” in my hand and examined it. “But why didn’t they jump us at Tall Pines? Why wait this long to do it, and why attack us in broad daylight on the road?”
Copper leaned against the van. “Because this little gadget runs on a 3G signal. You know that cuts out right about here and doesn’t come on again until Northville,” she waved her arms to include the direction of Wells. “So while you were at the cabin, they couldn’t trace you. They probably got a brief signal when you passed through Speculator on your way to Tall Pines, which alerted them to your general location. Then they must’ve lost the signal when you headed south toward Hope.”
It all made sense now. “Oh.” I felt as if the wind had gone out of my sails and slumped against the van.
She leaked a mysterious smile. “Things changed in the last ten minutes. I just got an update.”
My head snapped in her direction. “Did you get them?”
“When Callie called me about the bug, I got worried. I followed you guys down Route 30, and was about ten minutes behind you.” She gestured toward the wrecks in the road. “When I saw this, I stopped and found Quinn. He told me what happened, and I radioed ahead to troopers down in Wells. They caught the rig in a roadblock about halfway between Wells and Hope, hidden around a bend so the guys wouldn’t bolt when they saw it. Both of them are in custody. They’ll be charged with attempted kidnapping, and minimally, breaking and entering and assault, if the evidence matches up with what the cops collected at your lake house.”
I slumped onto the rear bumper, patted my dog, and let him try to lick me clean. I knew we weren’t out of the woods yet, but at least two of them were out of commission.
Finally, something had gone right.
Chapter Fifteen
When we got home, I helped Kitty change back into her own clothes. I also opened the bag Callie had donated to her and pointed. “These are for you, Kitty. They’re from Callie.”
She picked the items up, looked them over, and slipped into a pink hoodie with a brief smile.
I patted her shoulder. “Good. It fits.” For some reason I got maudlin again, wondering how I would have been as a mom. I could have had a young girl this age, if I’d started at twenty. I would have loved to help her through her high school years, I would have been thrilled to help her pick out a prom dress and get her hair done. And if she’d wanted to get married, I could have dreamed and helped her plan the perfect wedding.
But these pleasures would be denied me forever. And Quinn was so accepting of our situation, as if he never really wanted a son to go fishing with or a daughter to treat as his little princess. I was sure he ached inside in the dark of night, or while swimming along the shores of Honeoye Lake. He must feel the loneliness, the black hole inside. He must.
Instead, he got to play daddy to Ruby, the ring-necked parakeet, and I loved my puppy like a child.
I shrugged inside and tried to force myself out of the mood. There were worse things in life than loving little birds and dogs. And Ruby and Dak really did return our affection.
I returned to the living room to find Quinn on the phone. He mouthed the name Roberta, and handed it to me.
“Roberta?”
“Are you okay, Marcella? You sound sad.”
I hesitated. Was it the thugs who tried to kidnap and probably kill us? Was it fear for Kitty’s safety? Or was it my sappy self-pity that she sensed in my voice?
“We’ve just had a tough day. Did Quinn fill you in?”
“He did. And I can’t believe you got away from those horrible men. Thank God.”
“Yeah. We were lucky.”
“I heard you rescued Kitty from a hole in the ground?”
“Well, I helped a little. But Kitty really climbed out most of the way on her own.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re safe, dear.”
“Me, too.”
I sensed a change of mood on her end. I pictured her briskly rubbing her hands together and smiling. She sounded almost chipper. “So, my little chickadee, what are you doing tomorrow?”
I slumped into the rocker and started to rock. It squeaked, but I liked the sound and didn’t stop. “Huh? Tomorrow?” I hadn’t stopped to think of anything beyond the next five minutes.
“I have a plan for the ceremony we need to hold to try to connect with Kitty’s repressed memories.” Roberta’s voice vibrated with excitement, and I knew this was right up her ally. “Quinn and I had some discussions about it already, and I’ve dug up more information from my spiritualist friend.”
I sighed, trying to sound interested, although all I wanted at the moment was a hot bath and soft bed. “Okay. When and where?”
“We’re going up by horseback. Early morning, if you can. We’ll camp overnight. My girl here at the shop said she’d babysit Mimi, Dak and Ruby. I trust her, and you can, too.”
“Wow. Horseback? Camping in October?”
“Yep. It’s gonna be real warm over the next few days. Freakishly warm. They said it’ll get up to eighty, can you believe it? And I know a guy—actually he’s Wilson’s brother—who owns the horses.”
Although I’d never met him, I knew Wilson Clement had been Roberta’s lover for thirty years. He’d run a veterinary practice in Speculator, but had died a few years back.
“Really? Wilson’s brother would do that for us?”
“Well, Harrison will do it for me.” She chuckled. “He’d pretty much do anything for me, especially since he lost Helena. We’ve been hanging out a lot lately. And the reason he has all the horses is because he does trail rides and overnights for tourists up on Wh
istling Winds Mountain.”
My interest was piqued. “Isn’t that the place full of all the mysterious legends? Ghosts and spirits and spooky happenings?”
“It is. But don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe. You’ll love it.”
I hoped she was right. “Okay. Are we bringing Callie and Sky?”
“Of course. Callie wouldn’t miss it for the world. And we especially need Sky. He’s our oil man.”
I laughed. “We used to call our home heating guy the oil man.”
“Well, there’s that, too.” She chuckled. “Anyway, I already cleared it with them. Copper can’t come, though, she has to work. I think the actual words she used were ‘bring home the bacon.’”
“Too bad. I’ll bet she would’ve loved it.”
“Right. Listen, chickipoo. Gotta go. Like I said, tomorrow’s supposed to maybe hit eighty, but bring extra clothing just in case, okay? You never know when the weather will change around here. Harrison and I will take care of the food and camping supplies.”
“You’re sure we can’t bring anything?”
“Nope. Harrison has it all planned down to the smallest can of tuna. He’s got a system all worked out, plus a few pack mules. You just bring yourselves, your oils, some extra clothes. Oh, and make sure Kitty wears her crystal.”
A shiver of excitement ran down my spine. Camping overnight on Whistling Winds Mountain…wow. “Okay, I will. Roberta, this is going to be great. We owe you big for this one.”
She huffed a little. “Heck no, you don’t. You’re my kin and I love you. And Kitty is Quinn’s kin, so by default I love her, too.”
“Well, you’re just all full of love and flowers today, aren’t you?”
She laughed. “Darned right I am. Now you make sure you get to bed early, and don’t wrestle too long in the sheets with that big, handsome hunk of yours.”
I snorted. “Roberta!”
“I’m serious. Get to bed early, and try to meet me at Mountain Memories by seven, if you can.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll be there.”
“Love you, chickipoo.”
“Love you more, Roberta.”
I hung up to find Quinn scouring the kitchen for food, realizing with a start we’d missed lunch.
“We never got to eat at Roberta’s, did we?” I said, leaning over to look in the fridge.
Quinn frowned at a stale loaf of bread. “Nope. And I think I’ll drop if I don’t get some food soon.”
“What about tuna? I could whip up some sandwiches real quick.”
Quinn smiled. “Excellent. I love your tuna. And I’ll cut up some carrots and yellow pepper strips to go along with it. But you’d better get a fresh loaf out of the freezer. This one’s had it. I’m going to shred it and toss it outside for the birds.”
I watched him move past Kitty, who was playing on the rug with Dak. I took in his easy, graceful walk, the way his shoulders moved in rhythm with his body, the sway of his ponytail against his blue tee shirt. Once again, in my ridiculously romantic mind, I pictured him in a deerskin loincloth, a quiver of arrows on his back, bow held lightly in his fingers. I saw him tread over the roots and leaves barefoot, with his feet hovering over the ground, his muscles rippling as he jogged the path, feathers in his hair blowing in the wind.
He turned at the door to smile at me, and something inside me softened and melted.
Had he known I was watching?
His lopsided grin made the skin around his long-lashed eyes crinkle a little.
An involuntary shiver ran through me, flushing my cheeks and making my knees wobble. I blew him a kiss, and he pretended to catch it.
After all these years, we were still so ridiculously, wonderfully sappy.
After draining two cans of white albacore, I added some Miracle Whip and then diced up fresh basil Quinn had bought at Charlie Johns Country Store. For a little extra crunch, I added a quarter cup of sliced almonds and some whole flax seeds.
Quinn toasted the bread, and we added crunchy lettuce to the sandwiches. When it was ready, we sat down at the table like a family. My husband, our adopted daughter Kitty, and I.
It was a nice fantasy, anyway.
Chapter Sixteen
The next morning, we headed out at seven-fifteen from Mountain Memories in two vehicles. Roberta drove Quinn and Kitty in her old Chevy truck, belching smoke and leading the way. I sat beside Callie in the passenger seat of her Jeep, and Sky hunkered in the back, his long legs folded in front of him and his big hands resting on his lap. His eyes held an expression of serene anticipation.
The whole idea of camping out on this mysterious mountain made my pulse race, too.
This late in the season, the sun had barely risen and pink fluff still floated above the mountains in the east where the early morning light shafted across the hills and caught the clouds. We took a right, heading west, just before we reached the yellow Catholic Church in the village of Wells, and began the long drive into the Silver Lake Wilderness area.
I hadn’t realized that this immense, mostly uninhabited area was actually part of the woods and mountains we saw across the Sacandaga River when we sat at its edge in our green Adirondack chairs. I had so much to learn about the region; I imagined it would take a lifetime of exploring and studying to come close to knowing half of it.
We’d gone about nine miles down a deserted dirt track when we rounded a curve and slowed. To the right, the west branch of the Sacandaga River glistened silver in the morning light, glass calm and obviously much deeper than the main branch that ran past our cabin. There were no rapids here, no white frothy sputters of water meeting rock. The river surged in lazy splendor through its protected glen, reflecting shadows of Whistling Winds Mountain in its calm surface.
Bronze and red reeds grew along the shore on both sides of the wide river, and birds fluttered overhead and in the surrounding marshes.
To our left stood a rambling one-story home. Sided with graying cedar shingles, it sported a stone chimney and a wide front porch filled with an assortment of rocking chairs. A few Navaho-type horse blankets were draped over the porch railings, and more hung on the corral to the left of the house. A collection of ramshackle barns grew at unexpected angles off to the side, as if Harrison had collected more and more horses and frequently needed to tack on more stables.
To the south, a sizeable fenced pasture held a herd of horses who stopped grazing to lift their heads and watch us.
Callie pulled her Jeep beside Roberta’s truck and we got out, gawking at the perfect view.
She took my arm and squeezed it. “Marcie, isn’t it beautiful?”
I leaned against her, hugging her to me. “Incredible. This sure is God’s country, huh?”
We grabbed our backpacks and followed Roberta into the main barn, a green-painted building that bore a sign overhead, “Whistling Winds Trail Rides.” Inside, several young Mexicans were hard at work, grooming, saddling, and picking hooves on a variety of horses who stood in crossties in the barn’s main aisle.
A tall, loose-limbed fellow sporting a gray ponytail and mustache ducked under the crossties, and approached Roberta. “Right on time.” He hugged her for a long time then kissed her tenderly.
My heart thumped when I watched them together. She flushed, smiled, and backed up a step, fussing with the buttons on her jacket.
Roberta regained her composure, and introduced us all. Harrison shook our hands, taking time to say a few words to each of us. I was most impressed with the way he connected with everyone in the party by searching our faces with his deep brown eyes. He spent the most time with Kitty, holding her little hand in his massive paw and talking so quietly to her I couldn’t make it out. But her body relaxed and her face softened, and I knew he’d made a friend.
The whole thing seemed like some kind of supernatural bonding. I felt safe. Protected. Understood. It was odd, yet decidedly comforting.
Harrison called his men forward and introduced Manuel, Rico and Pablo. They couldn’
t be much older than twenty-five, probably about Kitty’s age. Each one bowed, smiling broadly, and went right back to work. I liked them immediately.
Our trail master gathered us all together with swooping arms. “Okay. Now, has everyone had a good breakfast?”
I nodded. Quinn had insisted on feeding us well this morning. Callie, Sky, and Roberta all murmured that they’d eaten.
“Good. You’ll need your energy, ‘cause we’ll be riding for a while before we make the summit. We’ll have lunch there once we set up camp.” His eyes raked across our diverse crew. “Now, let’s get you matched up to your horses.”
He asked us all about our riding history. Quinn and I had both ridden as youths. I’d done 4H for years, riding jumpers in local competitions. My stepfather, Raoul, had spoiled me rotten, paying for my majestic Hanoverian, Cody. We’d kept him at a local stable where they offered indoor riding arenas and a jumping coach. I still missed my horse, whom we’d sold when I went to the Eastman School of Music to study voice. But that’s another story for another day, and I don’t exactly like dwelling on the fact that I am a failed opera singer.
Quinn had barrel-raced Quarter horses on the reservation, and had actually competed in some of the same regional horse shows I’d ridden in, although we’d never crossed paths or remembered seeing each other, since we rode in such different circles.
Of course, Kitty was our true equine expert, and Harrison seemed to recognize that when he spoke with her. He led the girl to a big brown and white paint gelding, letting her stroke the horse’s muzzle while he whispered to her in low tones, presumably about the horse’s likes and dislikes. He pointed to the saddle, and she emphatically shook her head. Without hesitation, he flipped up the leather skirt and untied the cinch, setting the saddle onto a nearby stall door. Together, they walked the pinto out into the yard and he gave her a leg up onto gelding’s broad back. She settled lightly atop him, looking as relaxed as I’d seen her since I’d found her at our front door huddled in the rain.
He turned to us. “Okay. Anyone else for bareback?”
Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set Page 56
