Eyes at the Window (10 page)

Before Miranda rounded the curve, however, his barks had turned to howling and strange, eerie yelps. Heart racing, Miranda drew her gun and rounded the corner carefully. A few feet away, Rufus was desperately trying to salvage something buried in the side of the creek bank. An avalanche had happened here a long time ago, unearthing a huge tree which had fallen across the banks, its roots still embedded deep into the soil on the opposite side, forming a cave-like hollow. Twisted vines and boulders had captured refuse as it washed downstream and made the entrance of the hollow look like Nature’s junk yard.

Rufus had penetrated the cavern deeply enough that only his tail was visible by the time Miranda reached him. He was growling now, deep and ferocious, in a way that made Miranda grip her gun tighter. Was there someone hiding in there?

The dog refused to obey her commands to quit and come to her. Either he couldn’t hear her through all the noise he was making or was so focused on his prey he didn’t care. Now that she was closer, it seemed unlikely anyone could be hiding in the crevice. The interior was a network of gnarled roots and refuse that had been trapped during the creek’s high-rise state. Miranda stepped closer and reached in for the dog’s collar to pull him out.

As her fingers grasped the leather around his neck, she caught a glimpse of what he was worrying: something wrapped in green cloth. As she pulled Rufus back, she heard the fabric tearing. Gripped in his teeth, the square of green ripped away to reveal bones beneath it. Ribs scoured of all flesh through exposure and erosion. Topping the skeleton, a skull with open eye sockets stared out at her.

Chapter 11

Miranda screamed and pulled back, looking wildly around her. Sounds seemed intensified, movements seen from the corner of her eye looked like human predators. She swiveled from side to side, gun gripped tight. Squirrels suddenly chattered an alarm on the far bank and a flurry of leaves caught her eye.

She fired blindly, emptying her gun into the rim of the bank without aiming directly at anything. Bullets sent up dirt clods and a bevy of sparrows took to flight. Then she glimpsed red fur disappearing in the distance and she realized her “predator” had actually been of the animal variety: a fox setting the squirrels off as he stalked them looking for some supper.

That fact did not ease Miranda’s tension. She tried to quiet her ragged breathing as she listened and looked around carefully. Even after she convinced herself she was alone, her heart raced. Had she really seen human remains tangled in the roots? It had to be her imagination. Some dead animal, a cow perhaps, had washed downstream with the spring rains and been caught in the hollow.

But what about the cloth she’d seen?

“Rufus,” she called, “Come here.”

The dog had retreated out of sight, scared off by the gunfire. It took some coaxing, but finally he crept closer, crouching low and still gripping the torn fabric in his teeth. Miranda squatted and tried to calm her voice to reduce his alarm.

“Bring it, boy. That’s a good dog. Bring it here.”

After a few more hesitant steps, Rufus ran forward, wagging his tail and dropping his find at Miranda’s feet. She sucked in a sudden breath, unable to pick it up. It was part of a jacket sleeve, the cuff cinched closed with a corroded metal button.

Miranda tried to convince herself that did not mean the jacket belonged to the bones she’d glimpsed, but there was no way around it. She would have to take another look to be sure of what she saw.

An involuntary shudder shook her, but she set her shoulders and holstered her gun. Stepping up on a large root that would hold her weight, she pushed her way forward into the hole. Rufus grew agitated when he realized what she was doing, yipping and whining. The sound annoyed her, but with her heart in her throat, she didn’t dare open her mouth to reprimand him. She could smell a damp earthiness and something sour, but nothing so repulsive as the scent of decay. Whatever the bones belonged to, they had been trapped long enough to be scoured clean by the elements.

The skeleton was indeed human. It was too dark in the recess to distinguish whether the remains belonged to an adult or a child, but the skull reflected enough of the dim light for its human shape to be clearly evident.

Miranda pulled back, inhaling deeply as she reached the edge of the creek. She’d been holding her breath without even realizing it. She felt slightly dizzy, either from lack of oxygen or shock, she didn’t know which. She had a sudden memory of Harlan’s tale of runaway slaves. Could the remains possibly be that old?

She knew that was impossible, but it seemed such a preferable alternative that she let herself hope for a minute. It only took another glance at the torn sleeve on the ground to brush aside her delusion. Not only was it unlikely that the remains could be that old, but the fabric was definitely from recent times, some sort of weather repellent synthetic that had proven to be more resistant to the elements than human flesh.

The victim was more likely someone who had been swept away and drowned during the spring rains. Perhaps some local who had gone missing. Once she contacted the authorities, she was sure the sheriff’s department would have a way to identify the person and the cause of death.

Reluctantly, she decided she should take the torn material with her as evidence. Maybe it would help identify the remains. Pulling her left sleeve down to cover her hand, she picked it up with two fingers. Holding it at arm’s length like it was a dead carcass instead of a harmless, relatively clean scrap of cloth, she put it in her backpack before moving on.

Watching for somewhere to scramble up the bank, Miranda hurried back along the creek. She kept her gun holstered, but remained on edge. Rufus was far less troubled than she was, running ahead happily, investigating snake holes and following animal tracks. His unconcern eventually helped Miranda relax a little. If her dog sensed no danger nearby, then likely there was none.

Rufus was actually the one who found a way up the bank to higher ground. A couple of hundred yards upstream from the body, another miniature avalanche had happened earlier that season. The slope consisted mostly of brown crumpled earth that had already begun to grow a layer of weeds and grass. Rufus ran easily up to the top and stood at the edge barking encouragement as Miranda made her way up after him.

The stream had meandered its way to an area she wasn’t familiar with, an overgrown section of scrub trees and vines. By the time Miranda fought through to a clear path, she was hot and sweaty and sure she would break out in poison ivy if she didn’t take a shower as soon as possible.

The discomfort produced a welcome anger which pushed aside all fear. Everything seemed to have gone wrong since her arrival, starting with the storm, accelerating with Harlan’s pressuring her to sell the property, to now having to deal with some unknown skeleton. Part of her was tempted to tell Harlan he could have the place since it seemed to bring nothing but grief. The rest of her, though, was more inclined to hold on to the property just to spite him.

By the time she reached the open field at the back of the farm, she had worked up enough hostility to be furious instead of frightened when she saw a man standing just inside the barn door ahead. He quickly stepped back into the dark interior, but he had clearly been watching her emerge from the woods. It was the same man she’d seen several times already.

“Hey,” she yelled, stepping forward. “I see you. Who are you? What are you doing trespassing on my land?”

Rufus ran ahead of her, disappearing in the barn. If not for that, Miranda might not have been brave enough to venture further, despite the temporary courage anger had given her. She hesitated at the threshold and peered inside.

A late afternoon shaft of sunlight cut through dust particles that swirled as if recently disturbed. Behind a huge pile of moldy loose hay a rusted green tractor sat beside a ladder leading to the loft. Other than that and an ancient four-row plow in one corner, the place was empty.

At least at ground level. From the way Rufus was acting at the foot of the ladder however, it seemed clear that the mysterious trespasser had ascended to the loft. Standing with front paws on the lowest rung, the dog barked incessantly upward, his tail wagging furiously.

Miranda pulled her gun, then remembered she had not reloaded after emptying the barrel earlier. Now wasn’t the time to do so, however. She could only hope the intruder wouldn’t notice.

“Show yourself,” Miranda called, not really sure she meant it. “Or I’ll let the sheriff take care of you when he gets here.”

Rufus had stopped barking and now stood looking back at her expectantly. In the silence, she thought she heard rustling above. This was followed by a sifting of dirt and hay falling from between two floorboards.

“No need for that,” a man called down. He stepped into view, hands held up.

Standing above her like that, he seemed freakishly tall, but was actually about six foot two. He wore a brown leather jacket and had brown hair. Though she couldn’t see his eyes clearly from this distance and in the gloom of the barn’s shadows, she knew they were a brilliant green.

Because the man standing above her, this trespassing stranger, was indeed the same one who had been studying her so intently through the window of the small grocery store. The same one she’d seen walking along her timberline. At his side stood the German Shepherd, teeth barred, a low rumble in his throat.

“Butch, stand down.” Keeping his hands in the air, the stranger motioned to the dog.

The German Shepherd obeyed the command like a career soldier, dropping to his haunches. The way he sat at silent attention fit the name, shoulders gathered as if ready to pounce.

“Who are you?” Miranda’s words wavered with a slight tremor, but she kept the gun trained steady on the intruder.

“Luke. Luke Gregorio. I’m not armed and I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Oh, well, since you say so,” Miranda began sarcastically. “Then no problem. I’ll just go back to the house and let you carry on, shall I? What are you doing here?”

“Just passing through. Needed a cheap place to stay till I hit the road again.”

“That’s a lie. You’ve been here for a week at least.”

“I never said how soon I was planning to hit the road. You mind if I put my hands down now?” he asked casually, as if standing in front of a loaded gun was something that happened every day. “Arms are getting tired.”

Miranda’s cheeks burned, and then grew even hotter as she grew angry with herself for feeling foolish. She was the one in the right here. In some states, she could have shot him on sight as a trespasser without breaking any laws.

“I like them better where they are,” she told him. “This is kind of lonely country to just be ‘passing through.’ Sounds pretty fishy to me.”

“I follow the harvest is all. No one’s been hiring this year.” He shrugged. “It happens.”

“Well maybe you should make it happen somewhere else. Somewhere not on my property. Or would you rather I call the sheriff? I’m sure he’d be happy to offer a nice comfy cell to crash in. Free of charge, even.”

“I figured you already did. Call the cops, I mean. To report the gunfire I just heard. Or was that just you hunting?” He nodded toward her .38. “If you were hunting rabbits with that thing, I’m not surprised you’re empty handed. Unless your ferocious hound ate your kill for his supper already?”

The way he emphasized the word rabbits made it clear to Miranda that this was the person who had left the strange “gift” at her door.

“Don’t make fun of Rufus.”

“Rufus? That’s a strange name for a dog.”

“It’s better than Butch,” she spit out indignantly. “Were you drunk when you picked that out or something?”

Luke laughed and reached down to scratch behind the Shepherd’s ears. Butch looked up with lolling tongue and the biggest grin Miranda had ever seen on a dog’s face. “No, but he might have been. Butch loves his beer, don’t you, boy?”

It was only then that Miranda realized Luke’s hands were no longer in the air. He cupped them both around his dog’s face and ruffled his neck playfully. Miranda sighed. She was starting to feel a little ridiculous, standing there pointing an empty gun at him. She should either turn tail and run now, or give it up and let him come down the ladder to talk. She was getting a crick in her neck.

“Mind if I come down now?” Luke asked.

Miranda felt flustered that he seemed to have read her thoughts. “No. Well, maybe. I … Okay, I guess so, but don’t—”

“I know, I know. Don’t try any funny stuff. I watch old movies, too.” He started to back down the dilapidated rungs of the ladder.

Miranda backed up, getting closer to the door, just in case. “You don’t seem at all worried about pissing off the lady with the loaded gun, do you?”

“I’d probably be more worried if the gun actually was loaded.” Reaching ground level, he turned slowly, putting his hands up again momentarily.

“How did you—”

“I can count,” Luke answered. “I heard six shots. Plus now that I’m closer I can see for myself. Unless you’ve got one left in the barrel.”

Miranda’s whole face felt red now, ears included. She holstered the useless weapon, but moved a few steps closer to the door. Butch had dropped from the loft edge onto a stack of musty hay bales, then to the ground to stand at Luke’s side again. Rufus sniffed in the Shepherd’s direction, clearly interested in investigating the other canine more closely, but took his cue from Miranda and remained by the exit.

“So what was it?” Luke asked. “Squirrels? Target practice? Blowing off some steam?”

Miranda shuddered as she remembered the reason for her panicked reaction at the creek. “No,” she said weakly. “It was—a body. A skeleton. I found human remains down by the water.”

Luke froze and the lazy, half amused expression on his face drained away to pale shock. “Where? When? Who was it?” He took two steps closer but stopped as Miranda half turned to flee. Taking a deep breath, he made a visible effort to get his emotions under control. “Wait. Start from the beginning. Tell me exactly what you found.”

She wanted to, she really did. Now that she felt no threat from Luke for some reason, the horror of what she had seen came back to her full force. If she could talk about it, maybe some of the fear would go away.

But she didn’t dare confide in this man she did not know. “It has nothing to do with you. You’re just trying to distract me. I want you off my property. Or—” Glancing outside, she saw how low the sun was in the west. It would be dark soon. Panic at that thought made her want to turn and run to the house, no matter who was sleeping in her barn. “I’ll let you stay tonight,” she said. “But I’m calling the sheriff as soon as I get back and if you’re not gone in the morning, I’ll have him arrest you for trespassing.”

She did turn then, ready to return home.

“Don’t!” Luke exclaimed, then, in a calmer voice. “I mean, you don’t— You don’t need to. I was lying before. I’m not here because I’m looking for work. I’m a ranger with the Department of Fish and Game. The sheriff already knows I’m here. We’ve been trying to catch some poachers. A lot of deer being hunted out of season. I’ve been hold up out of sight here trying to keep my eye out for them.”