Man's Best Alibi

by Tara Meyers

  “That’s not what I mean,” Mel countered. “Guys can be a bit defensive when it comes to having their judgment questioned.”

  Ember slipped off her sweatshirt and tied it around her waist before taking another sip of water. It was turning out to be warmer than forecasted. Hard to believe it’d be snowing again in a couple of days. “Nathan isn’t like that,” Ember explained. “I know his hands are tied as far as investigating things any further. Anyway, the speech would be more out of concern for my safety out here rather than his ego getting bruised. It’s one of the reasons why I like the guy.”

  “Hmmm…” Mel purred as they began walking again. “I’m sure his dark good looks, broad chest, and commanding personality have nothing to do with it.”

  Shaking her head in response, Ember pushed through another low cedar branch and then stopped. “Oh!” she gasped, gesturing eagerly at Mel to move up next to her. “I’m sure this is the last clearing we stopped at, where we thought Duke had lost the scent. The camp should be just ahead!” Ember took off at a jog, leaving Mel to scramble to keep up with her short legs.

  The shallow divots left behind by the hikers five days earlier disappeared altogether under the trees. Ember stopped looking for the marks and plunged forward, finally confident of where she was. Sure enough, less than fifty feet farther, they emerged into yet another clearing, and there, in the far corner, was the half-collapsed tent.

  “Yes!” Feeling triumphant, Ember clapped her hands together once and turned to do a playful fist-bump with Mel. But her friend wasn’t sharing the same vibe.

  Uncharacteristically quiet, Mel was still standing at the tree line, a worried expression on her face. “So, this whole ‘let’s go on an adventure to find the tent in the woods’ thing suddenly seems like a really stupid idea,” she whispered.

  Remembering that the space had been Kurt Donaldson’s grave for four months, Ember scaled back her enthusiasm. “It’s just an empty campsite now, Mel,” she whispered back.

  “Then why are we whispering?”

  Closing her eyes, Ember re-centered herself. “It’s an empty campsite,” she said again, at a normal tone. Pointing at the tent and the ring of cold river rock in the center, she started to move forward. “There’s nothing here to get freaked out about.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s what every girl in every horror movie says just before getting slaughtered deep in the woods.” Mel began to follow, in spite of her misgivings, but at a much slower pace. “Are you sure there aren’t any bears? Because this looks like the sort of place a bear would hang out.”

  “I told you it’s the wrong time of the year for bears.” Ember reached the tent and waited for Mel to join her.

  “I would have to say that any time of the year is the wrong time to meet a bear.” Mel smiled coyly as she stepped next to Ember. “And if you don’t expect to see any, why did you have me bring this?” she asked, unclipping the bear spray from the strap of her backpack.

  “Because when hiking, you always plan for the unexpected. Same reason you put on a seatbelt.”

  Shrugging at the reasonable explanation, Mel peered inside the dark tent as Ember lifted the flap to the side. “Uh-uh,” she mumbled, stepping back. “I’ll wait for you right here. Consider me on bear duty.”

  Laughing, Ember dropped the flap back into place and then slipped off her pack. Digging around for a moment, she finally found her headlamp. “I think that’s a good compromise. I should only be a minute. Thanks again for coming, Mel.”

  “And miss all this?” Mel said gleefully while spreading her arms wide. “Just don’t be too long, because this would be the perfect time for me to go missing and then you get lost trying to find me and end up having to cut your arm off when you fall and get stuck in a ravine.”

  Pausing, Ember tried and failed to keep a straight face. “You watch way too many movies, my friend.”

  Ducking inside before Mel had a chance to come up with another smart-aleck retort, she was momentarily blinded as her eyes adjusted to the dramatic change in lighting.

  As the dim interior came into focus, the narrow beam of her headlamp highlighted the few items left behind. A collection of dishes and utensils, a camp chair, a crumpled up sleeping bag, and a pile of clothes with the dog collar and leash sitting on top. After taking a couple of steps to cross the small space, Ember leaned down and scooped the cold metal tag into the palm of her hand. Not wanting to mess with detaching it, she shoved the whole collar into the pocket of her sweatshirt.

  She’d watched Nathan go through the clothes, so she turned from the molding fabric to the pots and pans. They were equally unremarkable, and she was about to move on, when the light flashed off a familiar silver emblem. Curious, Ember scooted forward and picked up what was once an expensive travel mug. She knew exactly how much it cost because she owned one.

  The most popular hiking supply store in town was called Haven Backcountry Outfitter. They sold the custom cups with their store emblem, among hundreds of other “essentials.” It was considered a new store by Sanctuary standards and had only been in business for four years. It wasn’t surprising that Donaldson had been there, but Ember wondered how long ago it had been. Maybe the store owner would remember seeing him. What if he’d purchased the cup the day he came up that past June? It could potentially help nail down a date.

  “Not that it matters,” Ember whispered into the empty space.

  Resigned not to pursue the thought, she tossed the cup back to the ground. It made an odd clattering sound. Intrigued, Ember picked it back up and gave it a shake. A sharp, metallic sound rang out, nearly causing her to drop it. Pulling the lid off, she tilted her head so the headlamp was aimed inside. Frowning, she tipped the cup, and a small chunk of what looked like metal slid out into her hand.

  It was heavy, especially for its size. Silver in color, it reminded Ember of a molten lump of silver, but it weighed too much. Brows furrowed, she dropped it back into the cup, replaced the lid, and forced it into the pocket with the collar.

  Ember didn’t recall seeing anyone go through the sleeping bag. She figured that if the remains had been in or on it, they would have taken it with the body. Right?

  Approaching it cautiously, she poked at it with her foot until she could clearly see that the fabric was free of any stains. The tent still had that odd, musty odor, and Ember figured it was a smell that would never be aired out, no matter how much time passed. Doing her best to ignore the scent of death, she had a sudden urge to get outside, much like the last time she’d run out. Her heart rate accelerating, she quickly grabbed at the end of the sleeping bag and, lifting it up, gave it a firm shake like she would do to check for snakes and spiders while camping.

  To her complete surprise, something fell out. Barely registering that it was an artist’s drawing tablet, Ember snatched the notebook and bolted for the exit. Cool air washed over her, and she gulped it in as the pounding in her head subsided.

  “Ember?”

  The sound of Mel’s voice seemed to come from a distance, and Ember realized her eyes were closed. Opening them, she was greeted by the concerned expression of her friend as she looked up at her earnestly, a hand on her arm to steady her.

  “Ember, are you okay?”

  Licking at her lips, Ember nodded once. “Yeah. I’m okay, Mel. I guess you were right. It’s a little freaky in there.” Laughing at herself, she did her best to shake it off. Taking another deep breath, she held out her find.

  “What’s that?” Mel took the tablet and flipped it open to the first page.

  “No idea,” Ember admitted. “I panicked before I got to look inside. It was hidden in the sleeping bag. I don’t think Walker or Nathan saw it.”

  “Wow.” Mel whistled. “This guy was good!”

  Holding the open notebook up, she turned it so Ember could see. The first page was a pencil drawing of a deep, rocky ravine. The details were exquisite, and it was the work of a true artist. The next five sketches were all nondescript
outdoor scenes. They were all dated from earlier the previous year, and the women surmised they were worksites Kurt Donaldson had surveyed. Ember was about to flip to the next page, when a distinct cracking noise made her freeze.

  “Ember…” Mel’s voice wavered, her eyes flitting nervously over the trees surrounding them.

  Ember started to play it off as a squirrel, when a second, louder snap rang through the clearing. Something was walking through the dense underbrush behind the tent. Something big.

  Leaping out in front of Ember, Mel waved the can of bear spray around. “I always knew my death was going to be by bear!”

  Touched that her friend had thrown herself in harm’s way in spite of her fear, Ember took Mel by the shoulders and pulled her back. Unclipping her own much larger can of industrial spray, she faced the area where the sound had come from.

  “My can has a farther reach,” she said loudly. It was more for the benefit of whoever was listening. Because while the deterrent was meant for bears, she knew it would have an even greater effect on a man.

  Instinct, and the slowly spreading prickle at the base of her scalp, told her that it wasn’t an animal stalking them.

  ELEVEN

  “Hello? Who’s out there!” Ember yelled.

  Mel’s eyes widened, and she stared at Ember, the remaining flush in her cheeks draining at the realization of what the greeting meant. “You think there’s a person out there?” she gasped, glancing behind them in the direction they had come. “This just went from Grizzly Adams to Cabin in the Woods juju.”

  “More movie references, Mel?” Ember asked, amazed at her friend’s ability to joke in any given situation.

  “I have absolutely nothing else to use as a comparison to this.” Holding her own bear spray out next to Ember’s, Mel hiccupped loudly. “Oh great,” she groaned. “I haven’t suffered from anxiety-induced hiccups since elementary school. Either come at us now with a chainsaw or get the hell away from us!” The last word lost its emphasis as her breath caught again.

  “I think an ax would be more appropriate,” Ember said evenly.

  The two women looked slowly at each other before breaking out in nervous laughter. Then, another rustling sound made them freeze again, and any attempt at lightening the mood was forgotten.

  Ember could have sworn that the movement came from farther away than the last time, and she stared intently at a distant grove of trees. Did she see a shadow slip behind the tree trunk? After a full two minutes of silence, it appeared that whatever it was had disappeared, but then a very different sort of noise briefly broke through the stillness: the distinct static discharge of a radio, broken up by vague chatter. It was an official-sounding woman’s voice. The dialogue was abruptly cut off, and after another flourish of heavy steps, it became clear that the two were alone again.

  “Well, that wasn’t terrifying or anything.”

  Putting an arm around Mel’s shoulders, Ember gave her a reassuring squeeze. “It could have been anyone, and a chainsaw-wielding psycho is the least likely suspect.”

  Mel raised a speculative eyebrow at Ember. “You really think I’m going to believe that in this vast wasteland you call a wilderness, the one other person for probably miles in any given direction just so happened to be hiding behind a tree right next to us?”

  “I see what you mean.”

  “Right. And, this person also happened to have what sounded like a police radio.”

  Ember stared hard at Mel for a moment. “I agree that it sounded like a dispatcher talking, but any emergency responder would have a radio like that. Or, it could have also been a scanner or emergency radio.”

  Mel shifted restlessly from foot to foot. “I guess it doesn’t matter. But I would really like to leave now. Please tell me you have your house programmed into your GPS, because if we have to run or get chased at some point, I don’t want to get lost.”

  “No worries,” Ember said. “I’ve got it.”

  “Where are you going!” Mel shouted when Ember began to walk toward the area the sounds came from.

  “I’m just going to look around real quick. You can wait there.”

  “Don’t you watch any horror movies?” Mel grabbed handfuls of Ember’s sweatshirt and plastered herself to her side.

  Together, they crept cautiously around the tent and toward the grove of trees. About halfway there, Ember noticed an odd-looking contraption leaning against a fallen log. “What do you think this is?

  Mel kicked at the two-square-foot wooden frame and then bent down and pulled it from the grasp of creeping vines and grass. “Huh. Looks like a really weird screen window thingy.”

  Reaching out, Ember ran a hand over the mesh stretched across the framework. It was metallic. “It’s not a window…”

  Mel muttered while Ember pulled her cell phone from her back pocket. “Smile,” Ember said as she snapped off a couple of pictures.

  She then walked the length of the log, and sure enough, after a short distance, her foot hit something under the crumbling bark and pine needles. “A pickax,” Ember said, lifting the heavy tool with both hands.

  “Oh gosh, you think that guy really did have an ax?”

  Laughing, Ember dropped the implement back to the ground with a thud. “No, Mel, it’s been lying there for months. I think Kurt Donaldson left this stuff up here, and it was part of whatever reason he kept coming back. Do you think that could have been the old hermit Nathan said guided Kurt?” Ember suggested, gesturing back toward the trees.

  “You mean Ernest Tucker? Nah, Old Ernie isn’t the type to hide.”

  “I’ve never met him,” Ember admitted. “He was always sort of a myth when I was in high school, but he didn’t have his, um…furniture store back then.”

  “The Devil’s Elbow is actually a pretty cool place,” Mel said. “He makes surprisingly good furniture out of deadfall and stuff. I bought a chair from him once for my mom for Mother’s Day.”

  “Maybe I need to make a visit to both The Devil’s Elbow and Haven Backcountry Outfitters.”

  “Why the Outfitters?” Mel asked.

  “Oh!” Pulling the coffee mug from her pocket, Ember pulled the top off. “Hold out your hand.”

  Looking confused, Mel did as instructed. When the unidentified object fell into her palm, her curiosity grew. “It’s too heavy for silver,” she observed. Holding the irregular blob between two fingers, she held it up to the sunlight. “Is it a meteorite?”

  “I don’t have a clue,” Ember admitted. “But my neighbor, Mr. Collins, might. He used to be a miner way back when.”

  Seeing the tablet still clutched under Mel’s arm, she pulled it out while Mel continued to gaze at the “meteorite.” Quickly flipping back through the drawings, she hoped to get a better idea of what Kurt Donaldson had been doing.

  But on the sixth page, Ember’s breath caught. It was Daenerys. And she was clearly sitting in front of the tent in the same clearing, almost in the same spot they’d been standing.

  “Look at the date,” Mel urged. She’d put the object back in the cup and had joined Ember in her scrutinizing.

  “June 6th,” Ember read aloud. Tilting her head slightly, she thought back over the suspected sequence of events. “That’s not possible.”

  “What do you mean?” Mel asked, her voice wary.

  “Because the house fire was on the morning of June 7th. Their whole theory is that Kurt Donaldson set that fire before coming out here and killing himself. There’s no way he hiked up here on the sixth, drew this picture, and then hiked back out and drove home in time to commit the arson. This date on the drawing would also coincide with the last time he was seen, the amount of food eaten, and the number of days Daenerys would have been left wandering the woods.”

  “That’s assuming the date on there is right,” Mel insisted.

  “I think it is,” Ember said with confidence. “And I think that Kurt was already dead when whoever killed him set the house fire in order to frame him for his own
murder.”

  “That’s a lot of speculation,” Mel cautioned.

  Tapping a finger to her chin, Ember continued to stare at the remarkably accurate depiction of Daenerys. “Maybe,” she finally replied. Closing the tablet, she turned to Mel. “But I think we just found Kurt Donaldson’s alibi.”

  TWELVE

  “You found this inside the sleeping bag?”

  Ember watched Nathan closely as he flipped through the drawing tablet. He didn’t come across as mad when she told him about hiking up to the campsite. In fact, now he sounded more intrigued than anything. His ebony-colored hair was just long enough to tuck behind his ear, and she fought an urge to reach out and play with a loose strand.

  “I almost missed it but decided to give it a good shake before running out in another panic.” Taking a long drink from her iced tea, Ember leaned back in the tall, padded booth. They managed to get a semi-private table toward the back of the End of the Road Bar and Grill. Where The Rusty Wagon Wheel specialized in everything meat, the smaller restaurant focused on an old-fashioned dinner special and a standard American food menu. It was popular with the locals who wanted a rounded meal but didn’t enjoy cooking, as well as campers and tourists with kids that wanted chicken nuggets and hot dogs.

  Nathan took another bite of his country meatloaf and gravy before turning to the last image. Whistling, he set his fork down with a clatter. “All right, I can understand why you thought it was important.”

  Ember waited. When Nathan didn’t say anything more right away but continued to stare at her, she tried to hold his gaze. Ten seconds dragged out to twenty, and she finally crumbled. “I’m sorry, okay? I should have at least left you a message or something, saying we were going.”

  Tilting his head, Nathan crossed his arms over his chest and sat back from the table. “Why are you apologizing to me?” His dark eyes never left hers, and his features were hard to read.