“That ranger is such an asshole!” Stew yelled, not caring who heard him.
“What about after he left, Kelly? Did you find anything?” Janice was eager to hear some good news. She didn’t want to have to sleep alone in the cabin, looking over at an empty bed while knowing Rowena was out there wandering the woods, if not buried in some shallow grave.
“We looked all around the site, but there was no sign of them.” Kelly leaned in close. “The ranger found a single drop of blood on Doug’s sleeping bag, up by where his face would be.”
“Pudgy guys have acne. Maybe he’d popped a zit or something.” Marco grimaced, not really wanting to picture Doug lying there…oozing.
“Maybe Doug isn’t the mad butcher like you all thought.” Sonia noted, tapping the table with her index finger. “It was his sleeping bag with the dab of blood on it.”
“What the hell is all this shit?” Stew downed the glass of beer and poured himself another. “You’re all acting like Perry Mason or some shit. What the hell does it matter?” Stew stood from the table and headed back to the bar, ordering himself something much stronger. He took a shot and ordered another, then another.
“He’s taking it pretty hard,” Sonia informed them of the obvious. “I think he really liked Doug.”
Marco let a single laugh escape his lips, instantly killing the humor as he saw all three of them were scowling at him. He hadn’t sealed the deal with Janice yet, and was damned if a few immature gestures were going to sour his chances. He’d worked far too hard to miss out on such an opportunity.
“So what do we do next?” Janice felt lost.
“I’m going to head out tomorrow morning before work and do some more searching.” Richard looked at Kelly and she nodded. “We’ll both go and we’ll let you know if we find anything.”
They all nodded and took a drink, nursing their beers for the next hour. Stew came back to the table, bumping into it before taking a seat. His face was damp with sweat and he looked ready to fight, searching the room for anyone who might fit the bill, maybe some drunken male employee looking at him the wrong way; anything to channel his anger.
“That stupid bastard!” Stew yelled, his voice carrying over the music.
“I think that’s our cue.” Sonia stood, tugging at Stew’s arm. “Come on, you can take out some of your aggression with me.”
Stew stood from the table, liking the idea. Kelly gave Sonia a small wave and watched her pull Stew out the door. She liked seeing them together, thinking that they complemented each other well. One of those cute couples where everything is different. He’s tall while she’s short. He’s black while she’s white. From what she’d heard, they were both extremely goodhearted.
Stew was angry at himself for allowing something like this to happen under his watch, as if it were entirely his fault. Sonia felt similarly, that if she hadn’t had so much beer or if she’d just stayed awake that much longer, it wouldn’t have happened. Pure could of, should of, would of, but what can you do?
“Would you do me a huge favor?” Janice leaned in close to Marco, speaking directly into his ear. “Will you stay with me tonight in my cabin?” she asked with the saddest expression, eyes wide and teary.
“You bet I will.” Marco almost knocked her out of the booth as he scooted out, extending his hand to her.
“I just need someone to lay with me. No sex.”
Marco’s face looked as if someone had tied heavy ropes to all his nerve endings and pulled down, his smile and beaming eyes falling into a frown as if stuck in an emotional landslide.
“I have a terrible headache.” Janice read his expression easily. “Just not tonight, okay?”
Marco took her hand and perked up. Not tonight was a phrase that meant it would be imminent down the road. Besides, maybe he could milk a little action out of her anyway.
“What do you say, tiger? Are you up for some company as well?” Kelly leaned into Richard, nestling herself beneath his strong arm. “I know I am.”
Richard had been his usual self, playing the gentleman. He helped her up, paid the tab for their group, and escorted her back to her cabin. Sonia was staying with Stew, giving them the entire place to themselves. Neither one of them liked fooling around in Richard’s cabin. His roommate was an annoying nineteen-year-old cuss from Texas who stayed up late every night reading. So Richard and Kelly took full advantage of this alone time, undressing in a flash and jumping right into sex. The release was exactly what they needed, to put their minds somewhere outside of what was happening and to just focus on pleasure.
Richard fell asleep shortly thereafter, but Kelly remained awake, lying perfectly still on her side with her bare back pressed against his bare chest. She liked to lie as still as possible to feel his heartbeat through her back, such a calming sensation. She wasn’t the stereotypical woman that needed to be held and cuddled, but every so often she enjoyed it. Being wrapped up in his arms, made to feel safe. She closed her eyes and slept, knowing that at least she wouldn’t wake up somewhere else. Not while wrapped up in his strong, caring grip.
15
J
oe had a great first impression of Dale. He thought he was a very good leader, someone his men looked up to. Mostly, Joe admired his commitment to his men. Dale would stay out there all night and the following day to comb the woods if he had to; whatever it took to find out what happened to Paul. Joe had arrived a little late from the previous investigation, thankful to be rid of those punks. He’d pulled up behind Andy’s truck and hurried across the road and down the shoulder where the search line was almost a half mile into the woods. The line itself was more than fifty people wide made up of rangers from all over the park, firemen, and even a few of the older employees from Lake. He put on a respirator and joined the line, searching anything and everything; looking through small bushes for a possible hole, or the trunks of trees. Who knew what might turn something up? Sadly, Joe knew this was most likely not going to turn up anything at all. The smoke from the fire made it all but impossible to see a few feet in front of their faces.
“We’re going to have to call it in,” Joe informed the searchers with a heavy heart. “It’s just getting too dark. And with this much smoke, I’d hate to risk losing someone else.”
Joe saw their spirits deflate as the line broke up and they all headed back to their cars. He’d only been a part of the search line for an hour, but it had been going on since noon. Back and forth, moving a foot or two to the right, tapping the ground for holes. All that searching and they’d found nothing. Joe paused on the walk back, taking a moment to watch the firemen from Dale’s unit gather in a huddle.
“Okay, here’s the situation.” Dale lowered his hands as he caught his unit’s attention. He was out of breath, exhausted. “We’ve been ordered up north to secure the Inn. We’re going to break off from here and move up there ASAP. Now I’ve been assured by the rangers that the search for Paul will continue at first light. I know you all want to come back, but we still have a job to do.” Dale’s eyes moved from face to face, all of them looking down. None of them could stomach walking away from one of their own. Never leave a fallen man behind. It was as true on the battlefield as it was for a fireman. This was their battlefield. “Dismissed.”
Dale stood as his men broke off, heading up the hill to get into their vehicles. Joe watched him, a proud man standing with his hands on his hips. He could sense the sadness in him, even if his own men couldn’t.
“Aren’t you going with them?” Joe asked as he walked over.
“No. Our orders were for this unit to start clearing and spraying the north western portion of the blaze threatening the Inn, and that’s exactly where they’re going.” Dale looked Joe in the eyes. “I can’t leave one of my men out here.”
Joe nodded, knowing from what he’d seen in Dale’s eyes that nothing he could say would convince him to leave.
“Do you have enough flashlights?”
Dale nodded, patting the bag slung over his shoulder.
“Just be safe. I don’t want to have to come back tomorrow looking for you as well.”
Joe turned and headed up the embankment, pausing a moment for Rita to pass by. He gave her a wave and headed across the street back to his truck. Once inside, he rolled down the window and watched as Dale headed into the smoke. A few more feet and only the beam from his flashlight was visible. Then he was gone. Joe hoped to God he took his words seriously. Too many people had gone missing in the last few days. It was as if the fire itself was reaching out to them, pulling them to their deaths. When it was finally extinguished, would they find a dozen or more smoking corpses? He shivered at the thought. With the road bare, save for his and Dale’s trucks, Joe leaned to the side and opened the glove box. Waiting for him inside like a good, dependable friend, was his flask. Hardly a flask, the amber glass of the antique syrup bottle made for the perfect disguise. It wasn’t all that uncommon for rangers to take meals in their trucks, so at casual glance, it would be nothing more than syrup. Of course, he knew better.
He ran his thumb absently over the maple leaf etched into the glass. Had it really gotten so bad? That punk ass kid from today had smelled it on his breath. Even under the mouthwash and the gum. Maybe he’d just spilled some on his uniform or his skin. But the excuses wouldn’t do. He knew what he was. When you started to refer to a glass bottle as your friend, or when you crave the warmth of the drink, you had a problem. Still, he didn’t need to worry about it now. He unscrewed the small black cap and took a drink, closing his eyes as he swallowed the liquid. The booze was so cheap it tasted like lighter fluid. But he was attached to it now, stuck with it like a mosquito bite that would eventually go away if he could just stop scratching; but he couldn’t. The one hundred and fifty proof, brain killing fuel for depression had been there on the night his son had left, hiding in the cupboard. It had also been there when he received the news of his son’s death. Just as it was here for him now.
Joe screwed the cap back on and slipped the bottle into his pants pocket. He started the truck and made a wide U-turn across the road, moving quickly in case a car was coming around the corner. An accident was not exactly the way he’d planned on ending his day, but neither was heading back to that little shit’s campsite. But there had been something so odd about the whole situation, small details that set it apart from the common disappearance he was trying to convince them it was. The little drop of blood kept pulling him back, beckoning for attention. It would have been a slightly different story if he’d found it on the woman’s sleeping bag, still highly suspicious but a little more explainable; he could have held a rag of poison to her mouth or hit her in the face before dragging her off. That obviously hadn’t been the case.
A twelve-minute drive took him to the turnoff. He pulled in behind the abandoned truck and left the headlights shining in through the truck’s windows. Joe got his flashlight and a thin metal hanger he kept under the seat. He went to the driver’s side of the abandoned truck and shoved the hanger between the glass and the rubber seal, fishing for the hook end to connect with the lock. When he felt the slack get firm, he pulled up and unlocked the door. Little tricks of investigation; the notion made him smile, feeling more like a detective or a car thief than a ranger. Joe got behind the wheel and leaned far to his right, inches from lying down on the seat. He reached beneath the seats and found some receipts, fast food wrappers, and crumpled napkins with dried ketchup on them. The glove box wasn’t much different; just a thick stack of napkins and Rowena’s insurance information. Nothing else. There were no notes from a jaded lover or maps with circled destinations. Joe got out of the truck and headed up to the campsite. There were a few deer tracks walking through the dirt by the makeshift fire pit, probably after the food wrappers and the boxes of crackers they’d left behind.
“Hunting for night crawlers?”
“Jesus, Andy! What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?” Joe took a seat on a nearby log and slowed his breathing. “What the hell are you doing out here anyway?”
“I was coming out of Old Faithful there when I saw your lights heading off the road. I remember you telling me about those kids, so I thought I’d give you a hand. You’re not cross, are you?” Andy recoiled a bit, turning toward his truck.
“Heck no. It’ll be nice to have the company.” Joe stood from the log, dusting off the seat of his pants. “Got your flashlight?”
“Always.”
“Good, then let’s take a walk.”
Joe pulled his flashlight from his belt and headed off into the trees, not bothering to take the trail. He had to duck and dodge numerous branches, using his flashlight to hold some up as he passed beneath. The brush thinned out, allowing just enough space to walk hunched over.
“Why are you bushwhacking?” Andy asked, bringing up the rear and nearly falling over a tree root.
“We’ve already searched up and down that trail and found nothing. I was thinking about the deer running off with the crap these kids left behind and started thinking about what direction these kids would be dragged off in. Since their sleeping bags are directly behind us, I figured it’s worth a shot.”
“What do you think dragged them off?”
“Maybe a who, but I honestly don’t know.”
“Wait.” Andy came up right behind Joe, placing a hand on his back as he shined his light over his right shoulder.
“What? What did you see?”
“Something reflective. There!”
Andy aimed his flashlight at the glowing object on the ground, hidden in a tiny shrub. Joe had to duck beneath a thick branch and get down on his knees, crawling a bit till he reached the item. He reached into the shrub and lifted up Doug’s wristwatch.
“What is it?” Andy came up from behind Joe, careful not to step on his leg. “Nice watch.”
“Yeah, but what is this…slimy crap all over it.”
The watch was almost stuck to the plant with some sappy, black liquid. Joe held it up to his nose and took a whiff, pulling it away instantly. The smell was foul. Like mold and bog water rolled into one. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief, wrapping the watch up as best he could to make sure none of that gooey liquid was exposed. Last thing he needed was that staining the inside of his pocket.
“What do you suppose this means?” Andy turned his light ahead of them, shining it into the thick brush.
“Nothing good.” Joe backed out and turned back toward the campsite, walking hunched over until he nearly stepped on Doug’s sleeping bag. “One thing’s for sure, they didn’t just walk out of here. I haven’t the foggiest what, if anything, could have carried them both off through that kind of brush.” Joe knelt down and touched the dried dab of blood. “I honestly have no idea what we’re dealing with.”