Fogbound: A Lin Hanna Mystery
Read Fogbound: A Lin Hanna Mystery Online
Authors: Sharon Canipe
.
Fogbound
Lin Hanna Mysteries
Book 3
By
Sharon Canipe
Cover Design by
Steve Canipe
Copyright 2014
Sharon Canipe
All Rights Reserved
Other Books in this
Series
Earthcrack
Sandrift
This novel is a work
of fiction.
All names, places, characters,
and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously.
Any resemblance to
actual persons, places, or events living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Dedication and
Acknowledgements
This book is
dedicated to my husband and best friend, Steve Canipe, who has been my helper
and supporter throughout the past two years as I embarked on the process of
writing and publishing these books.
He provides photos for my covers, reads my early drafts, and gives
valuable feedback, and helps me to produce the final product for
publication.
Most of all he
encourages my efforts.
A writer in
his own right, Steve publishes a weekly column, Boomer Bytes, in the online
High Country Press, Boone, NC.
Reflecting on the experiences and interests of the Baby Boomer
generation, these columns will appear in book form in early 2015.
I also could not
accomplish this work without my daughter Marti whose technical expertise far
exceeds my own.
Her creative posts
provide valuable publicity for these novels and her advice in many areas is
much appreciated.
Her willingness
to help and her support for my efforts means a lot.
Thanks to you both!
Thanks also go to my
family and friends who encourage and support me both as readers and as sources
of interesting information.
Trying
to mention everyone who has shared an idea would inevitably result in omitting
someone, but I would like to mention Gerry Coffey who first told me about the
Ore Mine where an actual murder occurred many years ago and Judy Carlson who
has opened new opportunities for me to share my work.
August 2009
The soft
morning mist curled along the fringes of the forest and settled into the valley
below as Sandy pulled into the deserted parking area at the overlook.
This appeared to be a good spot for what
she had in mind—plenty of wooded area nearby, not too steep, no developed
trails.
She donned her jacket
against the still chilly morning and grabbed her camera bag from the back seat.
Her first term
as a graduate student in botany at the university didn’t officially begin until
next week, but her advisor had suggested she get started building her own
collection of local plant photographs as soon as possible.
She needed to have a decent set of
photos before fall arrived and the plants lost their identifying foliage.
He urged her to get out in the woods and
get started before she got too busy with other assignments, assuring her that
she would find a good photo collection invaluable in all of her future
work.
“Get started now,” he’d advised,
“keep your camera handy and add to your
collection whenever you get the opportunity.”
The Parkway
seemed perfect for what she needed.
The road itself was easier to navigate than backcountry roads in the
area.
There were good places to
park and plenty of developed hiking trails. One could avoid the risks of
trespassing on private property.
Jack, a fellow grad student she’d met at orientation, had suggested this
area.
“There are no
developed trails there, but walking through the woods is not too difficult, and
there are more different plants.
Trails
are fine but some of them have been trampled enough that you have to get pretty
far off to find good specimens,” he noted.
“As long as you stay aware of where the road is located, you should have
no problem finding your way back to where you parked.
Sometimes you may not see the road, but
you can usually hear the cars going by.”
Sandy liked
Jack.
He was friendly and sociable
and not bad looking either.
She’d
been delighted when he invited her to go out to dinner this coming
weekend.
Grad school seemed like it
could be a lot of fun. Sandy smiled to herself in anticipation of this upcoming
date as she locked her car and slung the camera strap over her shoulder.
The sun, beginning
to burn through the mist, dappled the forest floor with golden flecks of
light.
These woods were carpeted
with plants, and Sandy soon became engrossed in photographing the best
specimens she could find.
After a
couple of time-consuming efforts to identify the plants on the spot with her
guide, she decided to simply take photos and leave the identification work
until later.
It would be much
easier to accomplish at her desk with the pictures displayed on her computer
screen.
Now she
increased her pace, making sure to keep the road to her left as she wound
slightly downhill into deeper woods.
Jack was right.
She couldn’t
see the road, but she could hear traffic sounds.
While there was no marked trail here,
walking was not as difficult as she had thought it might be.
There were even some spots where it
appeared that others might have walked earlier.
Sandy continued
taking photos using her macro lens to bring the small plants into clear
view.
Suddenly she paused; she’d
heard a cracking sound as if someone or something was moving nearby.
Good grief she thought; I’d better be
more alert.
I don’t want to meet up
with a black bear out here.
Maybe
it was a deer she’d heard.
She
crept slowly forward.
The sound came
again, closer this time; it was ahead of her and slightly to her right.
She continued moving forward,
positioning herself behind a large tree.
She carefully raised her camera to her eye using the zoom like
binoculars to try to see what might be ahead.
She heard the sounds of movement.
Suddenly, her lens brought a strange
scene into view.
Two men appeared;
one of them was carrying what her uneducated eye determined was probably a
shotgun.
The other was digging something.
They were filling a large burlap sack
with some sort of plants.
Sandy certainly
didn’t understand what they were doing, but she could see that they weren’t
wearing the green and gray uniforms of park officials, and she was certain that
collecting plants of any sort wasn’t legal on park property.
Her advisor had emphasized that fact
while telling her that was the primary reason for developing a collection of
good photographs.
Jack had
cautioned her as well. Maybe this was some sort of backwoods farming operation.
She’d read that people sometimes planted hidden patches of marijuana in the
forests.
Perhaps she
should report this to someone.
Sandy carefully adjusted her lens to bring the scene into sharper focus
and began to snap pictures.
She
tried to catch the faces of the men, and also tried to focus on the plants they
were digging.
Her heart leapt
to her throat when she realized that one of the men was staring straight into
her lens.
Oh God, she thought, they’ve
seen me!
The face began to move
toward her.
She lowered her camera
and began scrambling back toward the road.
The camera bounced heavily from the strap around her neck, but her hands
were free to push aside the shrubs and vines that impeded her progress as she
tried to regain the roadway just above where she’d been walking.
Shouts of “Stop, Who are you?” “What are
you doing here?” rang in her ears.
Sandy was
nearing the top of the gentle slope and had reached for the trunk of a small
tree to aid her ascent when a shot rang out. She felt as if someone had hit her
right shoulder with a heavy object and realized that the shoulder and her right
arm were numb and useless.
Another
shot and the small of her back felt like fire.
Unable to remain on her feet, she slid
slowly down the gentle bank into a thicket of tall shrubs.
Vaguely she heard the sound of footsteps
approaching.
Then there was nothing
but silence, and her world turned black.
***
March 2010
Ranger Bryan
Lee slowed his vehicle as he approached the picnic area at Jeffress Park.
It was late afternoon.
The sun would soon be setting and the
light was already dimming along this wooded area of the Parkway.
The caller had been clear.
There was a man sitting alone at one of
the picnic tables with a long gun—shotgun or rifle.
Apparently the man hadn’t approached or
threatened anyone, but the tourist was concerned.
Although Bryan thought it was
unfortunate, there was no law against the man having a firearm in the park
provided it was legally registered and wasn’t being used to shoot at
anything.
Probably it was someone
who’d been hunting nearby and stopped to rest, but it was a little strange.
No hunting was allowed on parkland; however,
there were areas nearby where hunting was permitted. Best to check it out.
He pulled into the parking lot.
There were no
picnickers in evidence at this late hour.
A couple of cars parked at the end of the lot probably belonged to
walkers who were most likely visiting the Cascades, a beautiful waterfall just a
short walk down the mountain from this area. Hopefully the armed visitor had
already moved on. Bryan pulled in and glanced around the picnic grounds; he
spotted someone seated at a table near the far end.
The person was hunched over with a weapon
clearly evident across his lap.
The ranger checked his own sidearm as he exited his car and began
walking across the parking lot toward the man.
When he drew near he paused and called
out.
“Hello,
there.
Can I help you?”
There was no
response, but the man grasped his gun as he arose and turned to face Bryan.
The ranger
slipped his own hand down to his weapon. “ Someone reported you sitting here
earlier.
Have you been hunting
nearby?
You are aware, I’m sure,
that you can’t hunt on Parkway …” Bryan never finished his inquiry.
The man raised the firearm.
Although Bryan drew his own gun, he was
too late.
A shot rang out and the
young ranger fell.
The walkers
returning from the Cascades heard the shot and hurried to see what had
happened.
There was no sign of the
man they’d seen earlier at the picnic table—just the body of the young
ranger sprawled in the parking lot, a gaping wound in his chest.
***
May 2012
Lin Hanna
searched the stream of passengers leaving the B concourse at Charlotte-Douglas
airport.
She was waiting for her
friend Sue Gray who should be arriving momentarily.
Lin was eager to see Sue again.
It had been almost eight months since
the two had parted company at the end of their volunteer stints in northern
Arizona.
They’d met there while Lin
was volunteering at Wupatki and Sue had been at nearby Walnut Canyon.
The two retirees had become good
friends.
A few months ago they’d
decided to apply together as volunteers on the Blue Ridge Parkway just north of
Charlotte and only a couple of hours away from Lin’s home in Davidson.
Lin was
especially happy with that choice.
She hadn’t spent much time at home during the past year.
First had been the volunteer assignment
in Arizona last spring, then house sitting for a friend on the coast during
Thanksgiving and Christmas. Being nearby would enable her to get back home from
time to time to take care of things there, not to mention planning for her
upcoming wedding to Neal Smith.
No
date had been set as yet, but Lin had decided she wanted to have the wedding
here in the Charlotte area and being in state would make planning easier.
She spotted Sue
heading her way and rushed to greet her.
“I’m so glad
you’re here,” she smiled. “I hope you had a good flight from Denver.”
“Really,
nice.
Very smooth,” Sue replied.
“I’m glad to be here though.
Those
narrow seats in economy don’t give you any leg room.”
The two made
their way to the baggage claim area.
Lin was surprised when Sue picked up a small Pullman roll around.
“How are you
going to manage for almost four months with just that?” Lin exclaimed. “I know
we’ll have uniforms but…”
“This is just
basics,” Sue grinned. “ When I realized how much stuff I really needed,
especially since I was bringing my computer and all my writing notes, I decided
to ship a trunk separately.
It
should arrive at your place in a couple of days.”
“Good idea,”
Lin said as she grabbed the roll around and led the way toward the parking
deck.
Fortunately,
Sue’s flight had arrived early enough to help them avoid the late afternoon
rush hour traffic on I-77 north.
Soon they were exiting to the small town of Davidson just north of the
city.
Lin’s condo on the lake was
nearby.
Within an hour
they were seated outside on Lin’s spacious balcony overlooking the lake.
It wasn’t yet sunset, but the sky was
already taking on a late afternoon glow that sent a cascade of golden light
across the water.
A few small sailboats
dotted the waterscape.
The scene
was so peaceful; it was hard to imagine that a busy interstate highway and a
bustling city were just a few minutes away.
“This is a
beautiful spot,” Sue leaned back in her cushioned porch chair and sipped lazily
on the chilled glass of Pinot Grigio Lin had offered.
“I do love it,”
Lin said, “I really don’t want to give it up.
It’s the first home I’ve ever chosen
completely on my own, and I feel as if it is really mine.”
“What about
Neal?” Sue had to ask. “Doesn’t he own a home in Flagstaff?”
“He does, but
he hasn’t actually decided what he’s going to do after this term ends,” Lin
responded.
“When we last talked he
was seriously considering taking his full retirement and selling that
place.
He’s thinking he might like
to travel more, do some fieldwork, and volunteer at various archeological
sites.
If he decides to do that, we
could live anywhere.
We’d just need
a home base.”
“And this would
be a great spot to come home to,” Sue nodded. “I can tell that’s what you’re
hoping for.”
“I must admit I
do feel that way, but I’m trying to keep an open mind.
Things will work out for the best I feel
sure.” Lin took another sip of her Malbec. “I’m happy to say, though, that Neal
really loved this place when he visited last month.
He even mentioned the possibility of
keeping this condo no matter what we do or where we go.”