by Anne Hagan
“It would fit in our room back home nicely since Larry and Karen remodeled and expanded it,” Dana replied.
I patted the bed beside me.
“Nope. Not yet. There’s a bit more to see and we do have to get the car unloaded before it gets too dark. Bears can be a problem.”
“Bears?”
She wasn’t listening. Instead, she inspected the Jacuzzi tub a few steps to the right of the bed as she faced it and then opened the bathroom door alongside the Jacuzzi and peered in. Her smile as she turned back to face me said it all.
I got up and moved to the left of the bed toward double doors that led out to the balcony. When I walked out, I realized I was standing over the front of the cabin with the car just down below me in the little pull off from the road. Across the roadway that continued uphill to my right as I faced it, another hill also rose into a knoll. A copse of several trees stood tall at the top with a heavier wood line, just visible, farther back. There were no cabins visible at all on the steep hill on the opposite side of the road. With any luck, we wouldn’t have neighbors all week in the cabin next door. I shuddered at the quiet and the seclusion of it all.
Dana took a small sip of her champagne then carefully set the flute down on the edge of the hot tub. I looked on as she sunk a little deeper into the bubbling water, relaxing after our long drive and the subsequent hauling in of the stuff we’d packed for the week. The champagne had been her little honeymoon surprise for us.
Her eyes closed and she allowed her head to loll to one side. I half rose and moved slowly to hover over her, being careful to keep my feet in the same position they’d been in and not give away my intent too soon. As I lowered my body to hers, I whispered, “Happy Birthday Dana; I love you.” Her eyes flew open as I pressed myself to her gently.
“Mel, we agreed we weren’t going to do anything this year, given the weddings, and receptions, and the house...”
I pressed my finger to her lips, “Shh.” Removing it, I kissed her gently. “I didn’t do anything special but I did at least want to say it to you, to acknowledge it.” Slipping onto the bench beside her and gathering her wet form into my arms, I cradled her and nuzzled her neck.
“I didn’t even let my own mother do anything for me today babe, and I know it was killing her.”
“Oh, so you think the whole stroganoff thing was just a spur of the moment decision for her in our barely functional kitchen?”
Dana narrowed her eyes and peered into mine, “What are you saying?”
“Baby, she brought her own pans...”
My beloved tapped me lightly on the nose and then threatened, “You so owe me Mel Crane!”
“Hmm, what shall I pay?” I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively as I tightened my grip just a little around her back and across her legs. My right hand slowly rubbed the outside of her thigh suggestively as we snuggled just a bit deeper into the water.
“I’ll have to think about that.”
“Oh really? I could just turn you over my knee and give you 35 good swats!”
“Go ahead and try it; I dare you!”
We tussled in the water for several seconds, her smaller form holding its own with the added bit of buoyancy she was able to gain over my larger one but, in the end, I captured her and lowered my weight on her. I claimed her lips in victory.
The kiss was searing in the already hot water. I rolled onto a bench seat and hauled her back into my lap, my hand firmly on her behind. I began to rub it suggestively through the lycra of the suit she’d insisted on wearing, though we were miles from anyone’s line of vision.
Dana moaned a little against my mouth and arched toward me. Leaving an arm around behind her to hold her, I move my hand from her backside up to her shoulder. I lowered the strap of her suit exposing her breast to me then cupped it gently.
In the warm water, even exposed to a bit of the cooling night air, her nipple didn’t peak at first. I rolled it between my fingers then bent to pull it between my lips. At the touch it pebbled and Dana bucked in my lap.
Keeping her in my mouth, I slid my hand away and down her front, between her legs, under the still bubbling water. Nudging the suit aside, I ran a finger along her slit. It was slick with a wet heat that I didn’t think was just from the rolling water. Pushing into her core, I finally knew that she was wet in the best way and more than ready for me.
I nipped at her nipple as I moved one finger slowly in and out of her then, lifting my head and capturing her lips and tongue in a sweet torture that she was more than willing to return, I pulled out, then pushed two fingers in.
Going gently at first, then building harder and faster, I had her bucking and splashing as she tried to cling to me at the same time. Her walls closed in finally in several spasms and then she stopped thrashing in the water and went limp against me.
Chapter 3 – Gone
Mama Rossi
10:40 AM Monday Morning, October 13th, 2014
Morelville
Sheila Ford sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee. Her brother-in-law Steven Ford was in a chair adjacent to hers doing the same.
Treadway looked back and forth between the two people. They were adamant about filing a missing persons report, though Terry Ford had barely been gone 24 hours. “So you last saw him, you believe, just after 10:00 AM yesterday morning?” He made an annotation in his notebook.
“That’s right,” Sheila replied. “I normally go to Sunday school at 9:30 and then the church service starts at 10:30. Lacy, our helper, called in yesterday morning just after Terry started to open at 9:00 and said her son was sick and she couldn’t be there. I went in to help Terry get everything opened up. A woman came in just after 10:00 asking for sour cream. Terry went to the back to get it and he never came back. When I went back to check on him, there was sour cream on the floor and he was gone. I missed church and then ended up waiting there all day for him. He left his cell phone on the back counter.” Her tone was angry then it softened, “He hasn’t been back to the store or home since.”
Steven spoke up, “We were supposed to leave on a fishing trip first thing this morning; a three day trout derby up at the lake sponsored by the Sportsman’s Club.”
Joe Treadway looked skeptical, “A derby during the week?”
“That’s right. It was for the 55 and older group of members; mostly retired. Terry’s a little eccentric...hell, even downright odd at times but it’s not like him to miss a fishing trip especially for a derby.” Sheila nodded her agreement.
“Was there any sign of a struggle in the back of the store or out in the lot Mrs. Ford?”
“No. Not at all...other than the sour cream mess. The containers both burst open. I assumed he went looking for the mop and he realized he probably put it out back in the storage barn, out of the way, or even that he had brought home for some reason and he came back here after it.”
“Would he have brought it here?” Treadway asked her.
She shrugged. Steven too made a look like ‘who knows’ towards the deputy. He was the one to speak, “I told you deputy, Terry was an odd one. I think, more than that, he was getting a little forgetful as he aged.”
“That’s true. So,” Sheila asked, “what are you going to do to try and find him?”
“I have a few more questions first. You said there was no sign of struggle. How would Mr. Ford have left the store?”
“Oh, we both use a side door back by the coolers to come in and out before opening and after closing. He would have gone out that way and gotten into his truck.”
“He drove there yesterday?”
“He does every day. It’s only a quarter mile from the house to the store but he’s a smoker and not big on exercise. He won’t walk it; says he can’t breath.”
“Where’s the truck now, ma’am?”
She shrugged again. “Probably wherever he is. Is there anything else, officer?”
“Deputy. He’s a deputy,” Steven Ford corrected his sister-in-law gently.”<
br />
“Just one more thing; is anything missing that you’re aware of.”
“No. I don’t think so. I mean, see for yourself, all his gear for this trip he’s supposed to be on is right there by the front door. He was excited...packed it all up Saturday night before he went to bed.”
Treadway looked at Steven, “Are you familiar with the gear the other Mr. Ford usually takes with him sir?”
Steven nodded, got up and walked toward the weekend bag, tackle box, waders and other assorted odds and ends. He glanced over it then turned back to Treadway, “Everything appears to be here except his favorite pole.” He pointed to a case, “That’s his spare, broken down in that case, but he never took his favorite pole apart.”
Chapter 4 – Cabin Fever
Mel
Monday Afternoon, October 13th, 2014
Gatlinburg, Tennessee
“That was quite a night last night and then, our brisk little hike around this morning...” Dana sighed, “I’m feeling every bit of 35 today, that’s for sure.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded. Dana knew I was already 35 myself. We’d kind of glossed right past the birthday I shared with my twin in July. Dana was recovering from a kidnapping incident at the time and I was in the midst of a murder investigation that involved the criminal activity of one of my own staff. Celebrating was the last thing on my mind, then.
“You know what I mean. Between my leg issues and a level of other activity I’m not, ahem, used too,” she cleared her throat suggestively.
I tried to hid my grin but I failed miserably. Instead, I suggested, “It’s a little warm outside yet today but maybe you ought to soak it out in the hot tub; you know, to limber up a little bit.”
“Naw, too warm outside right now, you’re right. It must be 70 out there. But, maybe I’ll just go upstairs and give that Jacuzzi tub a try.”
“Hmm, naked this time?”
“Well, yes. It’s a tub silly!” She swatted at me lightly.
“I may just have to come and make sure you’re doing the whole soaking thing right.”
“Great...you’re the reason I need to soak in the first place,” Dana tossed over her shoulder as she marched as smartly as she could muster toward the steps.
After about a half hour of waiting downstairs at loose ends, I couldn’t take the thoughts running through my head anymore and I went upstairs to check on my wife. I found her still lounging in the tub as it bubbled gently from the jets. She was leaned back against the far end which was along the same wall as the head of the bed. Her eyes were closed but, from the lazy circles she was drawing with the foot she had raised partially out of the water, I knew she wasn’t asleep.
I stepped into the space between the bed and the side of the tub where the water spigot was. “Dana, honey, your water’s probably getting cold.”
She half opened her eyes and looked at me. “It feels so good in here. I don’t want to move.”
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed, between it and the tub. “It’s almost...”
I’d been about to say ‘noon’ when I checked myself and stepped over to look at the stand a little more closely. I pointed at the edge closest to Dana, “What does that look like to you?”
“What does what look like?”
“That.” I moved my finger back and forth a few inches over the trim lip of the bedside table.
She leaned over the side of the tub to get a good look, “It looks like grimy fingerprints.”
“Close, but not quite. It’s fingerprint dust that picked up some fingerprints.”
“Ewww!” Dana screwed up her face, “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Someone’s done a crappy job cleaning this place but, worse than that, it looks like a crime may have been committed here. The place must have been dusted but somebody was slacking on the job and missed lifting these.”
Once Dana was dressed, we drove down the mountain to speak with the management company. We needed to check in with them anyway since we’d arrived after hours but now I was far more angry than pleased with the cabin and I wanted some answers.
Heidi, a cutesy 20 something supposed property manager with a little gold name tag met us at the counter. “How can I help y’all?”
I pulled out my ID because I knew she’d need it but I left my wallet open with my wallet badge prominently displayed. “I’m Melissa Crane. We got in yesterday after you were closed.”
The young woman interrupted, “Oh right, the Mountain Hideaway cabin. Let me just pull up your paperwork right quick.” With that, she stepped away from the counter and back to a desk across from a man only slightly older than her who was expounding on the features of various cabins to someone on the phone. I stood there tapping my foot impatiently as Dana waited silently next to me.
She pulled some papers out of a small stack after rummaging through another larger one first. When she returned to the counter, she handed them across to me. “That there’s your rental contract. I just need to copy your ID, I need her name if she’s staying there with you,” she pointed toward Dana, “and I need your signature on page three.”
Listen, Heidi, about the cabin...”
“It’s a nice one isn’t it? It’s one of our most popular ones for honeymooners...and... for couples.” She paused, looking between Dana and I again, a question in her eyes.
I didn’t owe her any explanations so I didn’t explain our relationship. She, however owed me an explanation and I wasn’t about to let her interrupt again. “Heidi there’s a problem with the cabin and an explanation is definitely in order.” I looked at her pointedly. The man on the phone, likely catching my tone of voice, stopped talking and looked my way too.
The young manager swallowed hard while trying to maintain her smile then looked toward the man on the phone. He asked the person on the phone to hold for a moment and then stepped quickly up to the counter. “I’m Josh, the GM. Is there a problem?”
“Yes Josh, there is. The cabin we’re renting hasn’t been cleaned very well at all after an apparent crime or an alleged crime took place there, possibly very recently. I’d like a full explanation, please.”
It was Josh’s turn to smile nervously, “Oh.” He paused, and seemed to be gathering his thoughts.
After several seconds of my own impatience, I prompted him, “Was a crime committed there?”
He finally spoke, “Sort of, yes.”
“Sort of?”
“Actually, it was an accident, see.”
“An accident?”
A woman was staying in the cabin back in September, a uh, a few weeks ago. She was out on the front balcony where she caught a stray bullet or something from a hunter and she was killed.”
“She was killed on the balcony by a hunter?”
“That’s what the police determined.”
“Was anyone charged?” Dana asked.
Heidi piped up in response, “I don’t think they ever even found anybody who realized they did it.”
I was dumbfounded, “So someone was supposedly hunting, God knows for what in September, kills a woman by mistake, never comes forward and no one knows a thing?” The two managers simply nodded.
“Well here’s my question then, if it was an accident, why did they dust the cabin for fingerprints in the first place and leave powder residue on the furniture?”
Josh shrugged a slim shoulder and held up his hands in protest, “I can’t answer that. Maybe they did all that before they determined her death was accidental.”
“Let’s back up a bit, okay? What was the victim’s name?”
Josh pursed his lips.
Dana jumped in to assist, “Look guys, it’s a matter of public record. You may as well tell us because we’re going to find out anyway.”
“Oh, alright,” Josh gave in. “It was Patricia Dunkirk. She was a regular that would come down from Ohio and stay in one or another of our cabins every couple of months or so.”
My eyebrows
rose involuntarily, “Ohio, you say?”
They nodded simultaneously.
“Why would anyone have been hunting in the area in September? I mean, what’s in season in Tennessee then.”
“Technically, nothing was then,” Josh supplied, “but you can hunt coyote and wolves year round because they’re a nuisance, what with killing off chickens and small house pets and such. That cabin’s not far from the local sportsman’s club. Some of their members were known to be out in the area hunting coyotes at that time. Cops figured one of them shot at a one and the bullet found her instead.”
Heidi, found her voice, “I can get someone up there right away to give your cabin a thorough cleaning or, we have a couple of empty one bedroom cabins right now, we can, um, move you maybe,” she looked to Josh for confirmation, “if you like.”
Before I could speak, Dana nudged me with a foot below the counter and out of their view. “Neither will be necessary,” she said. “We’ll take care of it.”
Once we were outside and out of earshot, I questioned my wife, “Dana are you sure? Why don’t you at least want them to clean it?”
“Something isn’t right Mel. I can feel it; don’t you?”
I set my mouth and nodded at her. Once we’d climbed into her car, I admitted, “Yeah, I do too. My primary question is: why would the police dust for prints inside the cabin if they thought the shooting was an accident? Something inside had to originally trigger them to think it was murder.
We drove through Gatlinburg, through the park and down to the strip in Pigeon Forge, chatting about the ‘how’s’ and ‘what if’s’ as we went. Once we were seated in one of the many pancake houses that seemed to dot the strip and Dana had decent cell reception, she pulled out her smart phone and started searching on the name ‘Patricia Dunkirk’. It didn’t take her long to find something.
