Not yet pitch-black, but dark enough for Frank to pull out his flashlight as they searched for the false fork in the trail that Heather must have followed.
“I think this is it.” Frank used the flashlight beam to point out some rocks that formed a natural staircase leading off to the right. The three of them followed it, making their way toward the creek that they could hear but not see.
Before long, the false trail disappeared, and they were dodging between trees and rocks. What lay ahead looked the same as what lay behind; easy to see how Heather had gotten confused.
To Frank’s left, Earl tripped, and the steepness of the mountainside kept him stumbling forward with gathered momentum. Frank could hear him crashing through the brush, then Earl yelled, and the sound of running stopped.
“Are you all right?” All they needed now was a searcher with a broken ankle. Frank played his flashlight beam through the trees until he finally picked out Earl lying on the ground with his arms wrapped around a bent sapling.
“I'll be right down to help you,” Frank said.
“No! Don’t!" Earl held up one hand while clinging to the tree with the other. “I’m at the edge of a rock ledge here. I almost went over.” He leaned forward gingerly. “It’s about a thirty-foot drop. I can’t see the bottom too good, but the stream’s down there. I’m going to work my way across to where it’s less steep. Shine the light down here.”
Frank and Oliver watched from above as Earl edged his way across on all fours until he reached ground level enough to stand on.
“Do you think Heather could have gone over that?” Oliver asked.
“I think we better get down below and check the area very carefully.”
“I see a way down,” Earl shouted, “and I think I hear the dogs.”
Frank radioed Rusty as he and Oliver picked their way down to Earl. Together, the three of them made it to the creek bed as Sam came tearing into view. Nose down and tail up, Sam shot past them, baying in excitement.
He headed straight for the base of the cliff.
Chapter 12
For the second time in a week, Frank found himself helping Rusty Magill carry a stretcher through the woods.
They had discovered Heather slumped at the foot of a large boulder, where she’d gained some meager protection against the biting wind. A purplish bump distended her forehead and scratches covered her face and hands. She probably had tumbled down from the ledge. Her skin was gray and clammy, her pupils dilated, and she muttered incoherently. Hypothermia had definitely set in—they had found her just in time and began treatment immediately. Another hour and it would have been too late.
As they loaded her into the ambulance, the paramedic temporarily removed the oxygen mask. The blue had receded from Heather’s face; a healthy pinkness edged back. Her gray eyes, more alert now, looked straight into Frank’s, and she spoke: "The bastards left me. They left me on this damn mountain to die.”
Then the stretcher was hoisted inside, the ambulance doors slammed shut, and Heather was whisked away.
The DEC team had dispersed to their various vehicles, packing up dogs and equipment. Rusty stood still among all the activity, his gaze on the receding ambulance lights. Frank stood beside him, contemplating a tire track, bracing for the inevitable. He didn’t have long to wait.
"I suppose you’re going to tell me this was a coincidence.” Rusty spoke without moving his eyes.
Frank felt a weariness entirely unrelated to all his climbing. It was that all-pervasive enervation that comes from knowing an impossible task lies ahead, and you have no choice but to take it on.
"No, Rusty. You know I always say I don’t believe in coincidence. I’ll go over to the hospital later and talk to Heather. Then I’ll go back to the academy tomorrow to see what MacArthur Payne has to say.” Frank crammed his hands in his pockets. And get myself crucified for my trouble by everyone who wants to make sure the North Country Academy stays in business.
“I'm so glad you came by this afternoon.” MacArthur Payne stood at the door of his office, beaming at Frank like a maître d’ greeting a valued customer.
“Wanted to update you on the trespassing problem. I think I may have solved it.” Frank wondered how long this pretense of charm and civility would last once the real reason for his visit became apparent.
“Wonderful. Let’s take a stroll around the grounds and you can tell me about it.”
Frank reported on his encounter with the teenagers in Malone’s, and told Payne he’d continue to cruise by on the weekends to be sure the kids followed his directive.
“Excellent,” Payne said. “Eliminating this problem is one of my top priorities. That, and hiring a replacement for Jake Reiger. By the way, what’s become of Jake’s camping gear?”
"The state police lab still has it. Why?”
“I like to have these things ... accounted for.”
"I’ll keep you posted.”
Payne took a breath, as if to continue arguing, then let it drop. They walked along in silence for a while.
"How is Heather LeBron feeling?” Frank asked. “Recovered from her hypothermia?”
“Much better. I think her experience on Lorton was instructive, both to her and the other students. She learned the necessity of cooperating with the group.”
“When we found her, she seemed convinced the group had intentionally abandoned her. I wanted to talk to her about it, but the doctors wouldn’t let me see her last night, and when I went back this morning, she had already been released.”
“Nonsense!” MacArthur Payne didn’t seem the slightest bit cowed by the suspicion in Frank’s questions. “Heather has been manipulating people with her skillful lies for so long, she’s come to believe her own stories. If she hadn’t alienated herself from the group, she would never have gotten lost.”
“I understand she kicked up quite a fuss about coming back here when she was released from the hospital this morning. Said you were trying to kill her.”
Frank thought this information—brought to him via Earl, whose aunt was one of the nurses at the hospital—would put Payne on the defensive, but he grinned broadly.
"Of course she did—she had a whole new audience of doctors and nurses to play to. That child could give Meryl Streep a run for her money. But I’ve seen a definite improvement in her attitude since she’s been back. She’s reconciled herself to the work that lies ahead. As I said earlier, she had to accept the impossibility of running away.”
Frank looked at Payne, swaying slightly with his muscular arms folded across his chest, the snow-dusted peaks of the Verona Range unfolding as his backdrop. If ever there were a man in control of his fiefdom, Payne was it. Maybe Heather’s attitude change had come from knowing her only chance of rescue had slipped away.
“I find it a little odd,” Frank continued, “that the only student to be on both the Reiger campout and this hike was the one who got lost.”
A spasm of annoyance creased Payne’s face. “I fail to see the connection. The last time you were here, we agreed that Jake’s death was an unfortunate accident. I don’t see how what happened to Heather changes that.” Frank wasn’t sure he saw it, either. All he knew was that he wanted to talk to Heather to be certain the two events weren’t linked. “I’d like to talk to Heather while I’m here.”
Payne’s blue eyes stared ahead without blinking for an inordinately long time. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll have to go back to my office and check the schedule to see where she is at this time of day.”
Payne pivoted and began to march back toward the administration building. Frank had to hustle to match his long strides.
“So, how are all your new employees from Trout Run working out. . . Lorrie, Ray?” Frank hoped a little conversation might slow the man down.
“Lorrie is developing into a marvelous Pathfinder. I’m very pleased with her work. She sets an excellent example for the students.” The irritated set of his shoulders relaxed a bit and he slowed to a more leis
urely gait.
“Glad to hear it,” Frank answered, trying not to sound breathless. “Uh, what about Ray—he’s not a Pathfinder, is he?”
Payne chuckled. “I should hope not. He’s on the transportation team.”
“Transportation team?”
“He picks up new students from their homes and escorts them to the academy. We need someone strong— and how shall I say?—not too squeamish for the job.” Again, that jovial smile.
So Ray’s description of how he’d brought the boy to the academy had been accurate, yet Payne seemed completely open about it.
“Let me get this straight.” Frank stopped on the path. “Parents agree to have their kids brought here by force?”
"Sometimes it’s the only way. I can’t emphasize enough how troubled these kids are, Bennett. In many cases, their families are afraid of them. You can’t expect them to arrive in the family station wagon as if they’re headed off to Harvard.”
Payne wagged an instructive finger in Frank’s direction. “Take Heather LeBron’s family, for instance. They’ve been through hell the past three years. Heather has run away from home or from her school five different times. She’s crashed the family car, driving drunk and without a license. All they want is for her to be in a safe, secure environment, but Heather resists all their efforts. They had no choice but to bring her here under duress.”
Payne gestured toward the cluster of buildings that lay ahead of them. “It’s a dirty job that I do here, Bennett, but it’s work that has to be done. Yes, it seems harsh that some of them come here with their hands tied. But if they weren’t coming to me, they’d be coming to you and your colleagues. You'd be handcuffing them and hauling them off to prison. Isn’t this a better alternative?”
Frank offered a reluctant nod. He wasn’t at all certain that someone from the academy might not yet be led off in handcuffs.
When they returned to Payne’s office, the headmaster checked a schedule and told Frank that Heather was currently on an outside work detail on the west side of campus. “It will be quicker if you drive there,” Payne said. “I’ll phone ahead to let them know you're coming. Take the access road off the main drive.”
Frank did a three-point turn to get out of the parking area. As he slowed to turn left on the access road, he felt a thump from the back of the patrol car. Glancing up, he saw a bald head framed in his rearview mirror.
Heather LeBron crouched on the trunk like a large alley cat. She must have leaped out of the shrubs that lined the road. He got out of the car and walked up to her, and before he could speak, she had her arms around him.
“Take me with you, please!”
A strong girl, Heather had a grip that was hard to break. Frank pulled her off the car and disentangled himself.
“You’ve got to save me! They're trying to kill me here.”
"Now, Heather, calm down. Tell me what the problem is.”
Her eyes opened wide in panic. “There’s no time for that—get in the car and drive! I’ll explain on the way.”
“I can’t take you away from your school, Heather. I need to—”
She lunged forward and pummeled his chest with her fists. “I’m assaulting a police officer. Arrest me!”
Frank grabbed at her flailing arms and caught the right one. With her left, she struggled to get at his service revolver.
With one deft move, Frank flipped her against the patrol car and pinned her arms behind her back. “Enough! What the hell are you trying to prove?”
She twisted her head sideways to look at him over her shoulder. Tears streaked her face and white showed all around the irises of her eyes. “I’m so afraid," she said between rasping breaths. “Someone else is going to die. I think it might be me. But even if it’s not, I don’t want to be here when it goes down.”
“What—?” Frank began.
“Heather! What are you doing away from your work detail?” Steve Vreeland was approaching from across the lawn.
Heather slid out of Frank’s loosened grasp and straightened up as the young man drew closer. "Nothing,” she said with remarkable casualness. "This is the policeman who found me when I was lost on the hike. I was just thanking him again."
Seeing Heather and Steve together, Frank was struck by how close they were in age. He couldn’t be more than three years older than the girl, yet Steve spoke in a steady, low voice of absolute authority, his eyes focused unblinkingly on Heather. “You did not have permission to leave the work detail.”
“I’m sorry, Pathfinder Steve. I should have asked permission.” Heather continued to recite woodenly, “This is an example of the impulsive behavior I must learn to control.”
“This transgression will be written up in your book,” Steve said. “You can expect repercussions. Now, let’s go back to the work detail.” He jerked his head toward a group of kids trimming hedges at the rear of the main building.
Frank felt a prickle of fear for Heather. As she turned to leave, he caught her hand. "I came to talk to Heather. I’ll walk her back over there when I’m finished.”
Steve stood his ground. “That’s not possible,” he said in a level tone. “Heather has not earned the privilege of unsupervised visitation.”
“Go ahead and call Payne—he’ll give you the go-ahead.”
“No!” Heather yanked her hand away from Frank. “Let’s go,” she said to Steve, and strode away without a backward glance.
Frank trotted after her. “Heather, wait!”
But she never slowed her stride.
Chapter 13
The last glimmer of daylight faded as Frank drove back to the center of town. The mountains gradually disappeared, enveloped by the absolute darkness as he drove down the lonely stretch of road between the academy and the village. With no view, his ride was consumed by an uneasy internal debate.
Had Heather been acting, or was she truly frightened? Was she scheming to get released from the school, or was something dangerous really going on there?
When Frank had gone back to Payne, told him what had happened, and insisted on having Heather brought to him, Payne had acquiesced with an I-told-you-so smirk.
“This is textbook behavior, Bennett. Classic stuff. Create a scene, and when that doesn’t work, pretend it never happened. I’ll get Heather for you, but I guarantee she’ll have nothing to say to you."
Sure enough, when Heather was led into an empty classroom to talk to Frank, she had sat sullenly and refused to speak. He’d assured her that they were alone and that she could confide in him, but she answered with just one sentence: “Can you get me out of here?”
“Heather, I can’t take you away without any evidence that you’re in danger or have been mistreated. Tell me everything that happened on the hike. Why do you think you were intentionally abandoned?”
But Heather had turned her head toward the blackboard and refused to answer. No matter how he phrased the questions, no matter how he tried to probe what had happened on the campout with Reiger and the hike on Lorton, Heather met his persistence with an implacable stare. “Can you get me out of here?” she’d ask occasionally. And when he said, “No, not without cause,” she resumed her glowering pose.
Payne said nothing when Frank gave up and left. He would’ve liked to wipe the smug smile off the headmaster’s face by putting Heather in the patrol car and driving away with her, but he had no legal standing to do so. Her parents had entrusted her to the North Country Academy and presumably that’s where they wanted her to stay. He wondered if they knew about the bear attack and the hike where Heather had been lost. Would that change their opinion of the academy?
No point in asking Payne; of course he would claim they had been told. Tomorrow he would call the hospital and inquire if Heather’s parents had been notified of her hospitalization. Surely they would have to know, if their insurance was covering her treatment. Having a plan of action relaxed him a bit as he pulled into the center of town and surveyed the peaceful scene.
The
early dinner crowd filled the window tables at the diner, and the Store was doing a brisk business in last-minute dinnertime necessities. The trucks that had been parked in front of the old flower shop all day had departed, but Frank could see a light burning inside, a bare bulb that cast a harsh glow on the partially finished walls. No doubt the last person working on the library project had failed to turn off the light. He decided to check to make sure the door was locked. And maybe take a peek through the window to see how the work was coming along.
Frank parked the patrol car and trotted up the steps. To his surprise, the doorknob twisted to the right although it took a hard push to get the warped old door to open. He hadn’t really expected it to be unlocked, and his cop’s instincts made him wary.
Frank stepped into the front room, breathing in the smell of freshly sawn two-by-fours and something vaguely flowery. The studs for a half-wall separated this space from the area in the back, where the bare light-bulb dangled. A shadow moved across the floor.
“Who’s there?” he barked, his hand instinctively moving toward his sidearm.
A decidedly feminine shriek answered him, and Penny Stevenson poked her head around the corner. “Geez, Frank—don’t shoot. It’s only me.”
Pleasure replaced tension as he saw her familiar teasing smile. “Sorry, Penny. Old habits die hard. I saw the light on but no cars parked outside, so I came over to check.”
“I left my car parked over by the Store. Edwin wanted me to pick up nutmeg for something he’s making for dinner tonight, but of course they didn’t have any.”
“I’m sure Edwin can improvise,” Frank said. “So, what do you think of the job they’re doing here? Are they following your specs?”
“I’m so bad with spatial relationships—I couldn’t visualize what it would look like. But now that the partitions are up, I can picture it better.” She grabbed his hand. “Come here—look at this.”
Blood Knot: a small town murder mystery (Frank Bennett Adirondack Mysteries Book 3) Page 9
