The Dead Season (16 page)

A gust of wind made the overhead branches groan, and we both hunched our shoulders against it. I said, trying to keep my teeth from chattering, “And you told this to the police?”

She nodded, “They said there was no evidence that anyone besides Brian had left the camp. But people leave camp all the time, you know that, and unless it’s one of the kids, no one notices.”

I pointed out carefully, “Anyone could have missed the trail in the dark, or even in full daylight. There’s no reason to assume—”

“You sound just like the police! Brian was an experienced hiker. He had done the Andes and Nepal and the freakin’ Appalachian Trail twice, okay? He did
not
just fall off a bluff in the dark. Not unless he was running from someone, and even if he had, it wouldn’t have killed him. Not like that. The coroner’s report said the cause of death was a blow to the head and they assumed it was from the fall. But that ravine was all brambles and branches; there weren’t any rocks. He might have broken a leg from the fall—or even his neck—but he wouldn’t have fractured his skull.”

I had certainly heard less compelling arguments, but I knew nothing she had said would stand up in court, or even persuade a medical examiner to re-open the case. I said, “So you were Brian’s girlfriend? The one he left Max—I mean, Kelso—with while he was here?”

She nodded. “He called me every day. I knew something was wrong when I didn’t hear from him, but as far as everyone else was concerned, he wasn’t even due back for two weeks.”

“What about the video?”

She shook her head. “They never found his phone. Brian said he was going to hide it, and he did. But they found his backpack almost fifty yards up the trail from where they found him.”

I frowned a little. “That’s odd.” I really couldn’t think of a good reason why an experienced hiker—as Heather had claimed Brian was—would abandon his pack. Even if he was running from something, or someone, you don’t ditch your lifeline. Of course, if someone had taken it from him…

She thrust her hands into her coat pockets and turned abruptly. “We shouldn’t stay here. They’ll get suspicious.”

I said carefully, “About what?”

The look she tossed me was filled with anger and disdain, but also with a discernible measure of fear. “You don’t have any idea,” she said, “what they’re capable of. What they’ve already done. What’s at stake. I’m sorry you got involved. I’m just… sorry.”

And with her hands balled in the pockets of her coat, her head down and her shoulders bowed against the wind, she walked rapidly back to camp.

There was no point in calling her back. I wouldn’t have known what to say. I didn’t even know what to think. Because it has become almost instinctive to me to dial the sheriff’s department when I have a problem of this nature, I reached automatically for my phone. I had four messages from Melanie.

There was no point in calling Buck. Even if he had been back at work, I would not have known what to say to him. I thought about calling Uncle Roe. I called Melanie instead. 

“Where have you been?” she demanded petulantly when she answered.

I was cold and tired and had bigger things preying on my mind, and I might have been a little short as I replied, “On top of a mountain, freezing my…” A quick edit. “Fingers off. I told you I couldn’t keep my phone on.”

“Well, you need to come get Pepper. Right now.”

This was not a video call. Nonetheless, I took the phone away from my ear and stared at it in disbelief. There was even a note of laughter in my voice as I replied, “What?” because I couldn’t believe she was serious.

“Right now!” she repeated shrilly. “I mean it!”

I could hear the tears in her voice, and the surprised amusement I had felt died immediately. “Melanie, what’s wrong?”

“She’s a terrible puppy! She peed herself three times today and Grandma made me wash her in the laundry tub. And then I had to wash her bed in the washing machine and as soon as I put it back in her crate she peed on it again. I took her outside for
two hours
…” I was pretty sure that was an exaggeration. “And as soon as I brought in her in again she peed right on the floor! She’s a horrible puppy and I hate her! I don’t want her anymore!”

I had not had a great day, and my voice was a little more stern than it probably should have been. “Well, too bad for you. You made a commitment, remember? Puppies are a lot of work. You don’t just give up on them when the going gets tough, and you can’t just give them back.”

“Why not?” she shot back. Her voice was wet and angry. “That’s what my mother did to me!”

I squeezed my eyes shut, cringing at my own stupidity, and blew out a long slow breath. There is a reason why I have dogs and not children. Dogs are so much harder to screw up.

I said, “Listen, Melanie, your dad is coming home pretty soon, right?”

“No!” She sniffed noisily. “He’s got things to do and I’m not supposed to call him at work. Well, I’ve got things to do, too. I have to go to school, don’t I? And I’ve got to do my homework, don’t I? I can’t do everything!”

And although it felt as though someone was wringing out my heart like a dishtowel when she said that, I tried to focus on the problem, and I kept my voice calm. I thought I knew what had happened. “I’m sure your dad didn’t mean you couldn’t call him. He’s your dad. Of course he wants to talk to you. But in the meantime, you know Pepper is just a puppy. Did you forget to tell Grandma how often to take her out? You can’t leave her in the crate all day while you’re at school and then get mad when she has an accident. It’s not her fault. But it’s not your fault either. Puppies have accidents. You have to be patient.” I paused and added gently. “Do you miss your dad?”

“No!” She sniffed again. “I don’t care if he ever comes home.” And then, in a muffled tone, “I don’t really hate Pepper. I love her. I’m sorry I said you should take her back.”

“I know. Sometimes it’s hard when you have to be in charge of everything.”

She sniffed again, loudly. “Sure is.”

“But I know you can take care of Pepper. She depends on you, and you’re not going to let her down. But you don’t have to do it all by yourself. Tell Grandma to call the dog walker, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.”

When I was Melanie’s age, my dad used to let me go to court with him, and to sit behind the bench with him between cases while he signed papers. I felt like queen of the world sitting up there, looking out over the courtroom with my dad in his long black robes. Sometimes he would let me hold his gavel, and because I understood exactly how significant that responsibility was, I always took it seriously. I felt important, sitting up there on the bench with my important dad. I felt needed. But most of all I felt loved.

I dialed Miles’s cell.

I hadn’t bothered with the video, but I could tell by his voice this was not a good time. “Hey, babe. I’m in a meeting. I’ll call you back.”

“No, you will not.” I was cold and tired and at the end of my patience with parents who had better things to do than take care of their children... and children who had better things to do than take care of their puppies. “What you’ll
do
is get on a plane and go home and take care of your daughter!”

“Mel?” His tone changed immediately. “What’s wrong? Is she hurt?”

“She’s alone and scared and she needs her daddy, that’s what’s wrong. You have a child now, Miles. You’re responsible for her, and I’m not her mother! She barely even knows me! You can’t just take off for God knows where whenever the mood strikes you and—and leave her in her crate like you would a puppy. Kids need more than that. So do puppies!”

I was a little incoherent, I know. I had been through a lot in the past few hours.

He said, “Hold on.” There were some muffled sounds, during which I assumed he left whatever meeting he was in, and then he said, “Damn it, Raine, make sense. I talked to my mother two hours ago. Melanie was fine.”

“She is not fine! Her mother abandoned her and now so did you.”

“I did nothing of the sort. She knows—”

“She thinks she can’t even call you when you’re at work. For crying out loud, what kind of father doesn’t take his children’s calls? Tom Cruise will shut down a movie to take a call from one of his kids, did you know that?”

There was a brief silence. “My phone is always on.” His tone was subdued. “Melanie knows she can reach me.”

“She shouldn’t have to! You should be with her. When I was a little girl—“

“Damn it, Raine, this is not the eighties! We’re in the middle of a global recession and I’m trying to save my business, do you mind? In the meantime I don’t need you telling me how to raise my daughter.”

“Well, someone needs to! She is not going to grow up like this, Miles! She’s better than that, and she deserves better than that, and five years from now you’re not going to be sending her to a place like this just because you didn’t do your job!”

“What place? What job? What are you talking about?”

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. Having a child is a commitment, got that? And you don’t get to just walk away when it gets hard.”

“Are we still talking about Melanie?”

If I had been in the mood to pay attention, I might have discovered he had something perceptive to say, but even if I had given him a chance to speak, I probably wouldn’t have listened. So I snapped back, “That’s the trouble with the world, you know that?”

“What?”

I returned shortly, “You!” and disconnected.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T
h
e morning of the third day dawned with a brilliant red sky, which as any sailor—or wilderness hiker—knows, is not a good sign. I pointed this out to Paul, who was using his hatchet to slice off the bottom branches of a poplar to build up the fire, and he agreed without much appearance of concern. Snow is a fact of life in winter camping and can even add a little glamour to the experience. Of course that usually wears off after the first few hours of searching for dry firewood, which is why I always carry a camp stove.

“We might have to weather a day or two at the lodge if snow moves in,” he said. “We’ve got extra provisions there. No problem. Why don’t you do your search and rescue demo this morning, and we should have plenty of time to get across the gorge by afternoon. One more night under the stars. Or clouds, as the case may be.” He gave me a friendly, if impersonal smile, and moved past me with an armload of wood.

I picked up a few fallen branches and followed, hurrying until I drew even with him. I said, “This is where they found Brian Maddox’s body, isn’t it?”

The shock on his face was not unexpected, and he slowed his pace, staring at me. “How could you possibly know that?”

Before I could think of an answer, he found one for himself, and it made him frown. “Oh, right. You’re in the search and rescue business.”

“Also in the police business.” I didn’t think it would hurt to remind him of that. “Or at least my family is.”

The frown only deepened, but I couldn’t tell whether it was from anger or concern. “That was a tragedy. I was lucky we were able to keep the New Day name out of it. Brian was a hot-headed kid and what happened was his own fault. He wasn’t even technically employed by us when he died.”

He glanced around the clearing and muttered uncomfortably, “I didn’t realize this was the place.” He looked at me sternly. “I’ll trust you to keep this to yourself. There’s no need to upset the students or disrespect the dead.”

If he was lying, he was good at it. But then again, I didn’t consider myself a particularly good judge of character.

~

I ate another quick pre-packaged meal and, while Cisco was gobbling down his, I turned my back to the crowd around the campfire and quickly texted Melanie.

Everything ok?

Seconds later the phone blinked in my hand.

Great! Dad is coming home today!

Well, good for him. At least he knew when to take a hint. I have to admit, I felt a surge of smug satisfaction and I started to text her back when I heard Paul’s voice behind me. I quickly turned the phone off.

“Miss Stockton, the sooner you get your demo set up the sooner we can get back on the trail.”

I knelt in front of my backpack, which I had been in the process of packing for the day, and casually slipped the phone into a pocket with my camp cup and wet wipes. “Almost ready,” I called back.

Melanie was okay, I had absolutely no desire to talk to Miles, and with everything else that happened that day, I didn’t even think about the phone again.

Until it was too late, of course.

~
 

The morning was bitter and damp, the air thick with unborn snowflakes. The kids relaxed around the fire while I explained how I had started training Cisco as a puppy by playing hide-and-seek and how I taught him to track and retrieve objects by smearing them with peanut butter. They liked that, which lead to a brief digression in my speech to explain the long and lauded role that peanut butter has played in training canine stars from Lassie to the latest Westminster champion. I’m good at this, but even if I weren’t, it’s hard to fail when you have good material. The kids were rapt.