by Louise Lynn
The brown bear box was closed, but their cooler sat near it, out in the open, and Hazel shook her head. The ranger probably told them about the danger of attracting wild animals with the smell of food, and they’d obviously ignored it.
Typical.
She turned to get the dogs a bowl of water and the chilly morning breeze blew through the camp, rippling one of the tents. That caught her attention, because where the tent rippled was a hole.
Or, more accurately, a large rip was on the wall next to the tent flap, and it was caked with something dark red. The dirt and pine needles that littered the ground were caked with it too, and a few boot prints had tromped through it.
Bile rose in her throat as Anthony Ray charged toward it, his tail fizzed and his nose sniffing madly.
"Hello?" she called and kicked herself internally.
That was blood, no doubt. She’d seen enough of it in her previous job as a forensic photographer, and her heart pounded as she turned the corner, afraid of what she was going to find.
More blood, though most of it had soaked into the ground by now, leaving a deep red stain on the dirt and pine needles.
She didn't know if whoever had sustained such massive injuries could have lived. But they were hunters. Maybe it was animal blood, and not human blood, though, she wasn't sure if that was much better.
Hazel also noticed drag marks in the dirt. She followed them, glad she hadn't eaten more than a granola bar that morning, and went around a tree where they stopped dead.
There in the dirt and pine needles, slumped against a pine tree, was Cliff Crawford.
Hazel turned away before she took in too much of the gruesome sight.
There was so much blood, and he was obviously dead from how pale his flesh was. His eyes were wide open in shock, as if something had caught him off-guard. And the gash in his throat looked to be what did him in.
Heart pounding, Hazel rushed to the nearest tent and unzipped it.
Empty.
She went to the next tent.
Empty as well.
Where had his camp mates gone?
And what had done this?
She tugged Anthony Ray back toward the trail.
The dogs whimpered.
With a sigh, Hazel untied their leashes from the trees and took them along with her.
She was supposed to be on vacation, and now she had a dead body to deal with.
Chapter 5
"Are you sure he's dead? I don't want to get up there and find out I need a life copter instead of a morgue van," Ranger Albright said around the yawn.
Hazel stared at the woman's lined face, her unkempt hair, and fought to catch her breath. She’d run all the way from the hunter's camp, and the dog's trotted along side as if it were a game.
Now, they rolled on their backs in the dirt while Anthony Ray swatted them in the belly. They all acted as if it were great fun.
It had taken Hazel close to five minutes of pounding on the ranger’s door to rouse the woman, and this is what she got?
"I've seen plenty of dead bodies in my line of work, and yes. He's definitely dead."
Ranger Albright shook her head. "Guess I'll call it in. And where is the rest of his camp?"
Hazel shrugged and glanced around the campground. The ugly oversized diesel truck was missing, so it was anyone's guess where they'd gone. “I have no idea. We’re not acquainted. You might want to call the sheriff too."
Ranger Albright's eyes widened as she reached for her landline. It sat on a small table near the front door. “The sheriff? Why do I need to get the sheriff involved in something like this? Probably just an animal attack. It's what happens when campers don't follow regulations. You think after all the attacks they’d close this area off, but no. They like the camping fees too much to do that," she said and shook her head.
Hazel furrowed her brow. Camping fees? A man was dead and this woman was talking about camping fees? "You haven't even seen the scene yet, so how do you know if it's an animal attack?"
Ranger Albright gave Hazel a patronizing smile. “I’ve been at my job for a long time, miss. And you said there are drag marks and a whole lot of blood, so it sounds like a mountain lion attack to me. Could be a bear, but the black bears around here don't often kill people. Though, if they injured him enough, I guess he could've died from his wounds," she said with a shrug and started lazily dialing a number.
It wasn't 911 or the sheriff.
Hazel listened as the woman spoke, and got the idea it was another ranger station somewhere closer to Lake Celeste. Hazel ground her teeth until the woman was done.
“Can I borrow your phone?" Hazel said as sweetly as she could manage.
It wasn't particularly sweet, but Ranger Albright nodded and handed it over.
Hazel was glad that she’d managed to remember Sheriff Cross’s number. Especially since she was so used to pressing his name on the contact list of her cell phone. She didn't try the office yet because he wouldn't be in.
His cell number only rang three times before he answered it groggily. "I don't know this number, so it had better be important."
"Morning sunshine. It is. Remember how you wanted me to check in?" she said.
Colton yawned. "Hazel? Yeah. What's up?"
"There's a body at the campground, and unless I'm mistaken, we’re still within Celeste County lines. So, I think this is your jurisdiction," she said and ignored the scowl that Ranger Albright gave her.
She heard rustling in the background, and imagined Colton sitting up. "A body? Can you give me anything more than that?"
Hazel sucked in a breath. “He's dead. And I don't know where his companions are. The ranger thinks it was an animal attack, but…” She didn't say more than that, because Ranger Albright looked ready to snatch the phone from her fingers.
The scene felt like a blur in her head. Celia's warning rang loudly in Hazel’s ears about the dangers of camping near wild animals, as did her father's own story about Cliff Crawford’s misdeeds.
"Give me the name of the place, and I'll be there ASAP. Does this mean my favorite crime scene photographer is going to be there too?" he said and finally sounded awake.
"I'm your only crime scene photographer. And of course. If it's actually a crime scene."
After she gave him the directions and hung up, Ranger Albright snatched the phone from her hand. "Calling the sheriff without my okay? That's not how we do things around here, girly."
Hazel frowned. "Girly? I’m thirty-five. And if this is still Celeste County, then it is his jurisdiction, campground or not.”
The ranger’s face squished into a sour expression, and she looked ready to say more, except Hazel’s father interrupted them. He popped out of a hiking trail at the opposite side of the campground.
Hazel blinked in surprise. "Dad? I thought you were still at camp."
He gave her a sunny smile and shrugged. "Couldn't sleep, so I got up for an early morning hike before the sun rose. Who’re these guys you've got here?" he said and held out his hand for the dogs to sniff. They did so, and eagerly licked him as if he might have treats.
Anthony Ray sat with his nose sticking up in the air and waited patiently for his own round of pets.
Hazel furrowed her brow. ”I swear I heard you snoring."
Her father chuckled. “Oh, that was the new app on my iPad. Your sister installed it. It makes white noise so I can sleep. I guess I forgot to turn it off. I do that sometimes.”
Hazel raised an eyebrow. "White nose of snoring?"
Her father’s only answer was a smile, and Ranger Albright’s expression grew grimmer. "Well, you two can chat all you like, but I have to go take care of a dead camper," she said and trudged toward her Jeep.
Hazel's father blinked. “Dead camper? What happened? It wasn't that sweet girl, Abby, was it? She reminds me a lot of your mother when she was younger.”
Hazel shook her head. “No, but Cliff Crawford is dead.”
She watched her fathe
r's expression.
He didn't jump for joy, but he didn't necessarily frown either. He just looked surprised, and then he bent and gave Anthony Ray several pats on the head. "Well, that sounds like karma to me. Come on, Hazy. Let's get some breakfast. I don’t know about you, but I'm starving."
Hazel followed him, the dogs and cat leashes in hand.
Starving?
After what Hazel had seen that morning, she no longer had an appetite.
Chapter 6
"That awful man is dead? And you found him?" Esther shook her head, and her long auburn braid swung behind it. She kept her voice down, so Ruth couldn't hear, but Hazel had an idea the eight-year-old already understood what was going on. "I hate to say it, but I think mom might be right. Isn't this the tenth body you’ve found in the last–"
Hazel scowled at her younger sister. "Not even close to ten. I'm not keeping count, and mom—what did mom say?"
Esther shrugged. Which meant that Hazel wouldn't like it if she heard, but that curiosity of hers gnawed at the back of her mind. She’d have to nettle Esther until her sister broke down and told her. "Come on. Spit it out."
"She said the spirits want you to find their bodies so you can solve their murders for them. I told you you wouldn't like it," Esther said, though her lips quirked into a smile.
She was right; Hazel didn't like it. Mostly because she didn't believe in spirits guiding her to dead bodies. Though, she could see why her mother believed it. Since it had gotten to the point where it was past coincidence by now. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a non-ridiculous explanation for it either.
“It’s Anthony Ray. He’s the one who lead me to this body, and he’s found others too. And the thing at the Shakespeare Festival happened in front of everyone so—”
"Breakfast is ready, girls. There's plenty here, so eat up," their dad said with a smile. He’d built a fire, though he’d done most of the cooking on the propane camp stove that sat on the picnic table.
Hazel raised an eyebrow at the food. He really had gone all out, with eggs, bacon, and hash browns. He even had a contraption for making toast on the fire, though Hazel knew from experience it was more dried bread than actual toast.
Esther gave Hazel a look that said she wasn't in the mood for such hearty fare, but she sighed and grabbed a plate nonetheless.
Ruth grinned from ear to ear as she piled eggs and bacon on her plate.
"Are you going to eat all that?" Esther said in her mom voice.
Ruth nodded eagerly, though Hazel knew that was probably over enthusiastic.
Hazel put as little on her plate as she could get away with, and hoped the nausea went down after she started eating. She grabbed a piece of toast, because that seemed the blandest thing, and as she sat, Esther passed her a little jar of strawberry jam.
"Homemade," she said with a grin. "I have to do something with all those extra strawberries I get every spring."
Hazel smiled thinly. Strawberry jam. Red strawberry jam. Just the color she didn't want to think about on her food.
At that moment, her father decided to squirt a healthy amount of ketchup across his eggs and hash browns, and Hazel looked away.
Yes, there definitely seemed to be some sort of conspiracy, but it had nothing to do with the spirits and everything to do with the color red. "I'm going to go eat by the creek. No offense to you guys but the crime scene is still fresh in my memory."
"Crime scene?" Their father said and stuffed a whole piece of bacon in his mouth. "I thought the ranger said it was an animal attack. You think it was a crime?"
How he could eat so well at a time like this, Hazel didn't know. Well, maybe she did. He hadn't seen the remains.
"The ranger hadn't even been to the scene when she made that claim. So, who knows? Sheriff Cross is going to come check it out."
"What do you think?" Esther said and spread the strawberry jam across her toast.
Hazel sighed and nibbled on a bite of egg to give herself time to think. "I think it's a little bit coincidental that an animal attacked a big game hunter in his own camp. And the cooler was outside of the bear box.”
Their father nodded. "I remember a story of a grizzly attack in Yellowstone. The girl had stored everything safety, except a chocolate bar. That's what drew the grizzly’s attention. Sad story, really. Got her in her sleep. Could've been the same thing that happened here."
Hazel nodded absently. It could've been, but something in her gut told her it wasn't. However, like usual, she didn't have any proof. And if she wanted to see for sure, she’d have to go back to the scene of the incident.
All in all, unpleasant.
“Maybe the dogs aggravated it,” Esther said and looked at the hounds begging them all for a piece of bacon.
“If so, why did the mountain lion attack Cliff Crawford and not his dogs—who were tied to a tree?” Hazel said.
Esther shrugged.
Her father threw a piece of egg to the dogs.
Hazel knew she needed her energy, so she shoved her breakfast in her mouth and avoided looking at the jam or the ketchup. She fed stray bits of bacon and egg to Anthony Ray as well. He enjoyed every single one of them and smacked his lips.
The dogs whined, and she gave them each a strip of bacon.
"What kind of person leaves their dogs tied up all night?" Esther said as one of the hounds laid its head in her lap. She gently stroked its floppy ears.
Hazel smiled. "The nasty kind. It looks like somebody likes you."
"Can we keep him, mommy?" Ruth cried and plopped a large bite of scrambled egg in front of the second hound. It gobbled the food up in one massive bite, and Esther's lips drew into a line.
"They're not our dogs, Ruthie. They belonged to someone, even if that someone has mistreated them.”
"If they belonged to Cliff Crawford, their owner is dead, so maybe you guys can have them," their father said with a smile that Hazel wasn't sure was appropriate for the situation.
“Dad!" Esther cried and Ruth looked back and forth between them.
"Is that the mean man grandpa tried to punch? Who killed him?" she asked and chewed on a piece of bacon.
"We don't know, and you shouldn't be so cavalier about someone being killed, Ruth. It's rude,” Esther said.
Ruth blinked. "What's cavalier? Is it like a musketeer? Won't Auntie Hazy find who did it? You will, right?" Ruth said and let out a growl as she finished the rest of her bacon.
Hazel wondered if she’d learned the growling from Anthony Ray or the hounds. Hard to say. “I—your mom can explain cavalier to you. And I'm not sure. This is our vacation. I hadn't really planned on solving any cases," Hazel said with an exaggerated pout.
Esther rolled her eyes and gave the rest of her food to the two hound dogs. "Oh please. You know you like solving cases just as much as you like taking pictures of Lake Celeste. You can't hide it. Just admit you're gonna get involved."
Their father chuckled, and shoved the last bite of food into his mouth. Bits of egg were stranded in his beard, and Hazel handed him a napkin to brush them away.
“She's right," he said.
Hazel shook her head, "Okay, but this is a little bit different. I think we’re still in Celeste County, but that doesn't mean the ranger is happy about the sheriff poking his nose in. And if it's an animal attack, there's nothing to solve," she reminded them both.
Ruth didn't seem to hear that bit, because she scooped Anthony Ray up and started trotting toward the creek. "You're going to need to get your detective hat on, Anthony Ray, if you're going to help Auntie Hazy solve anything."
Hazel wondered if Anthony Ray’s invisible detective hat was down by the creek. The two hounds trotted behind Ruth, and Hazel let out a heavy sigh.
Even when she tried to get away, mysteries followed her. Maybe her mom was right. Not about spirits, but about her stumbling over murder victims.
She knew one thing was true though.
Once she poked her nose into a case, she couldn't
tear herself free until it was solved.
Chapter 7
Sheriff Cross and three deputies showed up a good forty minutes later, and Hazel could tell by the exasperated look on the sheriff's face that he'd gotten lost at least once.
She gave him a tight smile as he climbed out of the SUV.
"You doing okay?" he asked and leaned in to give her a hug.
The deputies each averted their gaze politely, and Hazel gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"I'm fine. I just hope the ranger hasn't messed with anything at the campsite. I haven't seen anyone else, and his fellow hunters aren't back yet," Hazel explained.
Colton got that grim expression he did when dealing with death, and he let out a heavy sigh. "I guess you should bring your camera just in case. You ready to head back there?"
She nodded. "I got my Pentax and everything. And you don't have to be so considerate. I've seen plenty of dead bodies."
Sheriff Cross smiled. "Well, I know that. Thought I'd try out something new. Being considerate, I mean."
She chucked and pointed toward the trail that led to the hunter's camp. However, they’d only gone about ten feet down it when the smell of diesel and the rumble of that ugly truck’s engine filled the air.
"It looks like someone just came back." Colton said and turned.
The smallest hunter crawled out of the passenger seat after the truck skidded to a halt, throwing up gravel and blatantly ignoring the five mile per hour speed limit in the campground. He hung, by his belly for a moment, before he finally mustered up the courage to drop a good foot to the ground.
That's why Hazel never understood those oversized tires. One either had to climb into a truck like it was a ride at an amusement park, or they needed a giant step ladder to get in and out. Either way, it was ridiculous.
The hunter looked at the sheriff and the deputies, and his eyes widened. “What's going on?"
The daughter, Hazel learned her name was Summer Crawford, hopped out of the driver’s side. She wore cutoff shorts and a midriff top that showed off her middle, and she’d paired it with thick-soled motorcycle boots, which Hazel didn't think worked well for camping or hiking.
