by K. B. Draper
“Not helping,” Ashlyn scolded through gritted teeth.
The sheriff snarled. “I don’t want her on my crime scene unless she’s in cuffs.”
Ashlyn straightened her back, facing off with the sheriff. “Have I missed something, Sheriff? Have you determined a crime has happened? I thought we were acting under the premise that we are looking for three lost hunters?”
The sheriff glared at her. “Either way, there’s no good reason for her to be here.”
“Actually, I think there is. Miss Mattox, as you know, is a highly-decorated Seattle detective, and she has already proven to have excellent tracking skills.”
I refrained from sticking out my tongue at the sheriff. However, I was surprised after the little encounter with Ashlyn only a few minutes ago that she was sticking up for me so adamantly. I thought for that alone I should try to behave myself.
The sheriff huffed her displeasure. “Ex-cop, found in the middle of a murder scene? Seems to be her M.O.” She glared.
I glared.
“I asked her to come here to assist with the search,” Ashlyn broke in. “I would also like her to take a look at the cabin, now that your team is done with it.”
“So she can contaminate the evidence? Over my dead body!”
“It’s my understanding your techs already went over the cabin and found no real evidence, so where is the harm?” Ashlyn raised a hand to stop the Sheriff’s protest. “I will be with her the entire time. I won’t let her touch anything.”
“It’s against the rules,” the sheriff said, thrusting her fists into her ample hips.
Ashlyn tilted her head. “So, we’re going to start following all the rules, are we? I’ll remember that the next time I run into your youngest fishing from …”
The sheriff shot her a look and was about to protest when her phone rang. “Fine. But don’t let her touch anything or I will take her in for obstruction.” She dismissed us with another glare and spun away to answer her phone.
“You showed her,” I said, pride evident in my voice.
Ashlyn stepped close to me, fire in her eyes. “Do not think I did that for you. I want to find out what happened to the three hunters. I want to know if they are lost in my forest. You are just a means to that end,” she poked a finger into my chest, “nothing else. If I find out you had anything to do with this, or heck that you had anything to do with anything ever, I will personally make it my mission to arrest you.”
“I jaywalked in Poughkeepsie once,” I offered in an effort to lighten the mood.
Ashlyn took a step back. “Do not make me regret this, AJ.”
“I didn’t-”
“Save it. Let’s go inside before I change my mind,” Ashlyn ordered.
“Okey-dokey,” I muttered to Ashlyn’s retreating back.
Ashlyn entered first but stepped aside to let me go ahead of her. “Go for it.”
I moved past Ashlyn, meeting her eyes as I did. I held them for a long moment before stepping further into the room. The cabin’s décor was someone’s flea market attempt to re-create the front page of a 1970s Field and Stream magazine. It had a relatively open floor plan, three doors off to the left, bedrooms and a bath I assumed. A living area and kitchen that made up the front room, a back door that I assumed led to a rear mudroom, and a crude knotty pined staircase that matched poorly with the cheap paneling, which led up to a loft, probably another bedroom.
I stepped further into the room, scanning every item. The brown leather couch was well worn; two butts had taken up residence on opposite sides. A matching leather chair had evidence of someone sitting there as well. The coffee table was pulled close with a mix of chip bags and a couple of glasses. They had all sat around the table at some point. There were three sets of playing cards on the kitchen counter that divided the two rooms. Maybe a poker game? Or a manly game of gin rummy?
I got hints of aftershave and soap, mixed with whiskey. Knowing I couldn’t touch anything I simply bent over to sniff the glasses. “Whiskey.”
Ashlyn didn’t comment, only stepped behind me to sniff the glass herself. When she took two tries at two different glasses, I figured maybe she wasn’t getting the same nose report that Norm gave me.
I stepped around the coffee table to look closer at the couch. I didn’t say anything at first but there was a card of some sort crammed between the two cushions, the corner barely visible. I had an idea what it could be. I moved on to the chair, another piece of the puzzle there. I leaned forward to take a closer look. Ashlyn nearly fell into me trying to see what I was looking at. I straightened, causing Ashlyn to be pressed up against me for a split second before she jumped back.
“Sorry,” she said, distancing herself even further.
“I’m not,” I replied with a curve to my lips, which made her eyes dart away to inspect the curtains, which I hated to tell her was futile because I’d already been there, done that, and there was no evidence there.
I moved into the kitchen. This time Ashlyn kept the island between us as I wandered around. There was nothing out of the ordinary, a few dishes in the sink and typical food that one would expect for a guy’s weekend sitting on the counter. I gave the cabinets a nod. “May I?”
“Sure, just don’t take out anything,” Ashlyn answered.
I looked around the kitchen for something to open the cabinets with, spotting only a dishtowel next to the sink, not an option if they used it for something more sinister than drying dishes. I looked back at Ashlyn. “You have anything I can use …” I waved my fingers at her.
“Yeah.” She reached to the back of her duty belt, unsnapped a pouch, and pulled out a set of latex gloves.
She handed them over the counter to me. “Thanks.” I didn’t put them on, simply used them as a barrier between my hand and the knobs. I made a quick scan of the cabinets. Most of them looked unused, simply stocked with the bare cooking necessities: plates, glasses, a couple of pots, pans, cleaning supplies under the sink, etc. I moved to the refrigerator. More weekend food staples: lunchmeat, condiments, a few beers, nonalcoholic beverages, nothing that I would consider out of place or suspicious. I figured I wouldn’t find anything in the freezer either, but I checked it anyway. As expected, I found only four half-empty blue ice trays.
I stepped around the edge of the refrigerator to where the trashcan was located. I assumed the crime scene unit had already searched it, but I put my foot on the pedal to lift the lid and take a gander at what lay inside. More typical waste, but I reached in, latex glove actually on now, and pulled out a piece of paper. At first it appeared to be a simple scorecard as if the three guys had been playing cards and adding up their points, but the numbers were much more complex. I held it up to examine it closer.
“What is it?” Ashlyn asked from behind me.
“I don’t know,” I replied. I laid it on the counter so she too could examine the seemingly random numbers.
“Scorecard?”
“I don’t think so, or at least not for any game I’m familiar with,” I answered. “Might not be anything,” I said, although I wasn’t really convinced of that. “Check out the bedrooms?”
“Okay,” Ashlyn agreed.
I wanted to see what these three hunters had packed for their big hunting weekend. It didn’t take me long riffling through the bedrooms, loft, their suitcases, and bathroom to have a pretty good idea of what was really going on here. “I’m good,” I finally said, and then headed for the front door of the cabin, pulling off the latex gloves.
“And ...” Ashlyn followed me outside.
Danny was outside the cabin, tablet in hand, as the Sheriff was giving him an on-the-spot interrogation. He was shaking his head, adamantly denying her accusations. I would have let the situation go on, as it was kind of fun to see Danny sweat for other reasons than me chasing him, but we had a search party to crash.
I heard Ashlyn sigh behind me as she took in the scene. That gave me a little hope that she didn’t think Danny deserved the to
ngue lashing he was receiving or maybe it was because she knew there was a good chance the Sheriff and I were getting ready to have another not so friendly tête-à-tête.
I was running out of Loretta Lynn song references, damn it, so I decided to go with a direct insult this time. “Solved your crime for you, Sheriff. Should I send my bill directly to you or to the county commissioners?”
The sheriff spun on me. “You seriously expect me to take your word on … well, absolutely anything?”
“No, actually, I don’t expect you to. I expect you to keep acting like a close-minded, backward-town sheriff that-”
Ashlyn stepped in front of me just as the sheriff lunged at me. “Loretta, I think we all need to take a second to calm down.” She held up a hand when the sheriff took another step. “You don’t want to do this here.” Ashlyn softened her voice, “not in front of everyone.”
The sheriff hesitated and turned her head slightly to see the crowd of law enforcement officers who had all stopped what they were doing to watch the show. She reluctantly took a small step back.
I smirked as I added insult to injury in my best country twang. “Wise choice, Loretta ‘cause You Ain’t Woman Enough to-” my last Loretta Lynn song slam was cut off as Ashlyn spun on me, shoving me back with one push to the chest.
“Say one more word and I will take you in for threatening a law enforcement officer.”
I’d be pissed off if I weren’t so turned on. My little ranger had some fight in her. I’d seen it in her eyes before, but she was willing to back it up. I swallowed the grin that was forming and held up my hands in an “I give” gesture.
She eyed me for a long moment, probably not believing I would relent so easily. To her credit, she could have me doing a lot of things I wouldn’t normally do.Apparently satisfied I was going to behave, at least in the immediate future, she turned back to the sheriff. “Let’s just hear what she has to say. We have three men who are possibly out there and we need to either start the search or figure out where they are. We’re wasting valuable time.”
The sheriff didn’t reply, only crossed her arms over her chest. I was again impressed, not only because of her ability to actually wrap her arms around those things, but that she was able to keep her mouth shut. I glanced at Ashlyn. This was the third time Ashlyn had been able to talk the sheriff into something she was adamantly opposed to doing. There was a history between the two women, a connection or something. God, hopefully not a connection, connection … ’cause icky icky times a healthy dose of ewwww.
Ashlyn nodded to the sheriff. “Thank you.” Then she turned to me with a glance that only I could see, which loosely translated to something like ‘knock the mouthy shit off and behave.’ I may have seen similar renditions once or a hundred times. “AJ?”
“I think they’re at a casino or strip club,” I began, giving a quick glance to Danny, who gave me an approving head nod.
The sheriff snorted, unimpressed.
I ignored it, in an effort to prove to Ashlyn I could behave if and when I chose to. “They’re working some card scheme. My guess is two on the table, one spotter throwing signals. I think they’ve had some amount of success this weekend and they’re celebrating with strippers or bar girls.” I paused to gauge my audience’s reactions. Ashlyn’s eyes were furrowed in confusion, likely running over the items she saw me locate in the cabin and piecing them together for herself. The sheriff was … well, still unimpressed. Danny gave me an up-and-down of his head and then tapped his tablet, which I took to mean he had found evidence to support my theory.
“Walk me through it,” Ashlyn asked.
“Two vehicles, one is missing. Coffee table is set up like they had been playing cards, two side by side, one off to the side. More decks on the counter.”
“You’re basing your theory off a coffee table and a couple decks of cards?” The sheriff huffed. “You had enough yet, Ranger?”
“I’m also basing it on the piece of paper in the trash that has cards and codes on it, the worn card of a strip club between the cushions of the couch, the glitter transfer on the cushion of the chair, and the fact that there are only poser hunting clothes packed and still sitting clean in their suitcases, probably just props for the wives’ sake.” I held up a hand as I saw the protest forming on the Sheriff’s lips. “Now granted, they could be rewearing their gear; boys are dirty like that …”
“Hey, not all boys,” Danny protested.
“But there are no dirty boot socks, only dress socks. No one, especially guys that hunt every year together, pack Gold Toe dress socks to hunt in nor do they pack one pair and rewear them. Plus, all their dirty clothes smell like cigarettes, cheap booze, and even cheaper women. For all those reasons that your crime scene guys missed is why they’re not lost hunters, but instead in the nearest gambling town.”
“Tunica,” Danny offered, “is an hour drive.”
“Tunica,” I repeated, knowing that would be where Danny had already found them. “If I had to guess, and this is a pure guess on my part, there are two reasons they didn’t show up for checkout: They’re passed out between the boobs of a bunch of dirty-legged strippers or the casino caught them in their little card scheme.” I looked at Ashlyn. “You can call off your search and rescue mission, Ranger.” Then, to the woman wearing the I hate you with every cell of my body look, I said, “And, Sheriff, not to tell you how to do your job or anything but I would start calling casinos.” A glance at Danny told me he wanted to join in the “stomp on the sheriff’s pride” game. “Unless, Danny, you want to help the sheriff with that part of the investigation as well …”
He grinned widely. “As a matter of fact.” Danny pulled up his tablet, hit the screen with his fingertip a couple of times, and then turned the tablet to face them. “I’d start with the Golden Eagle Casino. They entered the casino at 8:34 last night.” The video he had pulled up on his screen showed the three men entering the casino doors together, then immediately separating in three different directions.
I patted Danny on the back. “Okay, our job here is done.” Confident they would not proceed with a search of the woods, we now needed to get out of here as soon as possible before the “how did you know what they looked like” and the “how did you get that video” questions started. And we needed to hurry as I could already see them forming in Ashlyn’s mind. “To the Batmobile, Danny,” I announced, already hotfooting it toward Woody.
Danny jogged up next to me. “Nice job,” I whispered.
“I think the sheriff hates me,” he replied, holding out a fist for a bump.
I checked it. Exploded it. “And boom, welcome to the dark side.”
I spent the rest of the afternoon and into the evening scouting around the lake, seeing if there were any other signs of demon or victims in the immediate area. I hadn’t found anything interesting, at least not of the demon or victim variety. When I returned to camp, Danny was still boots up, head down in his tablet, reading through the park ranger reports.
“Anything?”
“Not yet, but I’m only through eight years. I have a few more to go,” he replied without lifting his head from his screen. “All I’ve seen so far is animal-related incidents and hunting violations.”
“Nothing from the elders?” I asked, dropping down across from him and stoking the fire.
At that he looked up at me. “Nothing more than Grandfather is still doing his thing.”
“Maybe he got lost. You know, made a wrong left turn in Albuquerque and dreamwalked over to Vegas, decided to let his hair down, drop a few singles in some G-strings, and-”
“Please stop before I have to Q-tip my brain,” Danny pleaded.
I reached over to the cooler and grabbed two beers. “Here.” I tossed him one. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I know how you and Q-tips get along.”
“You bumped my elbow,” Danny protested.
“And you cried for like two hours,” I countered.
“Having an instrument of deat
h thrust down your ear channel isn’t pleasant.”
“Instrument of death wrapped in cotton,” I clarified and took a drink of my beer.
“You hit my elbow,” Danny repeated.
“You were taking like six years to get ready.”
“I was grooming-” he started and then saw my smirk at his word choice. He changed directions. “Shaving like a man’s man.”
“Man’s man?” I asked with a wiggle of my eyebrows. “That would explain the pink-”
Danny pointed his beer at me. “You suck.”
“Me? Ummm, I think we might’ve established that you-”
“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Danny asked.
“I’d like to send a demon back to hell but …”
Danny sat up. “I might have something.”
I moved next to him so I could see his screen.
“Twelve years ago, there were two bear attacks, same night.” He flipped between two pages.
“And?” Rare, sure. But it could happen, I thought.
“The first was the Reverend’s wife.” He flipped to the next report. “The second was,” he flipped the tablet so I could see it more clearly, “a Mr. Jesse Parker.”
I took the tablet from him and scanned the narrative of the report. “Ashlyn’s dad. She was there.” My heart hurt for her as if the old memory was my own. I handed the tablet back to Danny. “Think it was really a bear attack?”
“I don’t know,” Danny offered. “I’ll keep looking.”
I stood abruptly. “I’ll be back. Keep Nancy beside you. Yell if you need anything.”
Chapter 6
I was running, but my thoughts were outpacing my feet, and my feet were tearing up the earth. I was at my destination before I could talk myself out of what I was doing, where I had gone. I had just enough time to chastise myself and turn to head back to the campsite when a familiar government vehicle pulled into the drive.
