Don't Cry for Me (21 page)

* * *

Dolly was bringing in a load of laundry from the clothesline when her phone began to ring. Meg had gone to Mount Sterling a couple of hours earlier to run some errands, so she hurried to answer, dumping the clothes on the kitchen table before picking up the phone. She was a little breathless as she answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Dolly, it’s me, Mariah.”

A smile spread over Dolly’s face. “Hi, honey. How’s the garden growing?”

“Good, really good. I think I’ve finally found my calling. Now all I need is for you to teach me how to cook what I’m growing.”

“I’ll be happy to do just that,” Dolly said. “All you have to do is say the word.”

“Okay, thanks. Uh, actually, I called about something else, though. Do you have a minute?”

Dolly pulled up a chair and sat. “I even have two or three. What do you need, sugar?”

Mariah hesitated. She didn’t want to give herself away, but she had to find a way to get her questions answered.

“The other day Quinn took me up to see that waterfall and the cave where the kids used to play. It’s really something.”

Dolly beamed. “It is, isn’t it? All us kids did our fair share of leaving tracks up there when we were young. I haven’t been up that way in years.”

“I was wondering what you knew about the cave. You know, like did early settlers ever live in it, or was it ever a hideout for some outlaw? I know there’s a place in a park in Oklahoma called Robbers Cave, where some famous outlaws like Jesse James and Belle Starr used to hide. I heard they even scratched their names into the rocks.”

Dolly laughed. “I don’t know about outlaws, but I know my great-granddaddy had a still in there once.”

Mariah grinned. “Really? How funny.”

“Not to them it wasn’t. Whiskey was serious business.”

“I’ll be honest, it freaked me out a little when I first went in,” Mariah said.

“Oh, we scared ourselves in there on a regular basis,” Dolly said. “It was part of the fun.”

Mariah’s pulse kicked. Now they were getting to the conversation she needed to have.

“Scared yourself how?”

“We were always imagining bad guys were going to come out of the dark and we’d never see home again. As scared as we were, we still went back for more. Kids are crazy like that,” Dolly said.

“I’ll bet you saw everything from wild animals sneaking up to ghosts about to grab you, too,” Mariah said.

Dolly laughed. “Probably, but us kids never talked about ghosts—or haints, as our grannies called them.”

“Haints? What’s a haint?”

“It’s the mountain way of saying ‘haunt.’”

“Oh. Did you all believe in them, too?”

“Everyone believes in ghosts up here, honey. There’s too much history not to, you know.”

“Did you ever hear or see any in the cave?”

“Lord no,” Dolly said. “If we had, we’d all still be running.”

Mariah’s hopes fell. “Oh.”

“I’ll tell you one thing I remember about that cave. It was something Granddaddy Foster once told us. He said the passage at the back goes all the way through the mountain and comes out on the other side. Course we never went in to test the theory, but Granddaddy wasn’t one to stretch the truth, so I guess we all believed him.”

Mariah frowned. That still didn’t help her cause. She wanted ghosts, not a hole in the mountain that went in one side and out the other, kind of like the growing hole in her sanity.

“That would be something, wouldn’t it?” she said.

“For sure. If Granddaddy was right, it would be over near the park side of the mountain where Quinn works. And speaking of Quinn, when are you two going to come to supper? I’m a real good cook, and it’ll be a treat for Meg and me to see you again.”

Mariah smiled. “I don’t need to be asked twice. As soon as I can get an answer out of Quinn, I’ll let you know. How’s that?”

“Perfect.”

“Well, it was good talking to you, Dolly. Thanks for letting me rattle on.”

“Good talking to you, too, honey. Take care.”

“You, too,” Mariah said, and disconnected, leaving her alone with the knowledge that she was hearing things nobody else seemed to be hearing. And she didn’t like the way that made her feel.

* * *

It was midafternoon when Quinn started back to the ranger station. As the days moved into summer, it was always good to keep an eye on the amount of deadfall in the forest. That played into how fast a wildfire might spread, which was a constant source of concern for park rangers.

He was coming around the curve in the dirt road where he usually met the mushroom truck and slowed down out of habit, but today it was nowhere in sight. He glanced toward the gates up ahead, marveling at what time and money could do.

The big green-and-white Mountain Mushrooms sign at the gates was hard to miss. It was common knowledge now that the men who worked for Lonnie Farrell took home good money. It was also common knowledge that he was no longer hiring. Quinn surmised it didn’t take all that many men to sit and watch fungus grow.

As he neared the entrance he heard something thump hard against the bottom of his Jeep. He hit the brakes and then put the car in Park, hoping he hadn’t run over anything living.

He dropped to his hands and knees as he got out and looked underneath, praying he wasn’t going to see some kid’s cat or dog squashed beneath his tires. To his relief all he saw was a chunk of a dead tree branch. He pulled it out and tossed it in the ditch, then began checking the underside of the vehicle, making sure the branch hadn’t punched a hole in the oil pan. Reassured that everything looked secure, he circled the Jeep, kicking the tires as he went to make sure none of them were going flat. It wasn’t until he got to the front tire on the passenger side that he saw a sight that stopped him cold.

It was a shoe print—the kind of print left by a lace-up work boot—and there was a distinct wedge missing in the left heel of that boot, just like the print he’d found at all the poacher’s kill sites.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, and began following the tracks—straight to the gates of Mountain Mushrooms.

The gates were locked, which was odd, considering it was nothing but a mushroom business. He could see nearly a dozen cars parked around the new trailer house. He needed to find out who was in charge and get a list of employees, but he didn’t see anyone outside.

He went back to his Jeep, got out his binoculars and then returned to the gate and began scanning the site, but nothing was moving. He jiggled the gate, thinking about climbing over and walking onto the property, but the clearly posted No Trespassing sign left him without that option, as well, at least if he wanted to stay within the law.

And he couldn’t be breaking any laws, especially while he was on duty, which left him with only one option. He headed for the ranger station. This was something the boss needed to know.

* * *

Buell Smith had been sitting in the office staring out a window when he saw a man walk up to the gates and then shake them, as if trying to come in.

He could tell that the man was in uniform, and when he came back with binoculars, Buell panicked. His first thought was that the law was on to them and they were all going to be arrested. They would go to jail and wind up getting ass-fucked by their cell mates for the rest of their lives.

He didn’t know what to do. Should he tell Lonnie or take care of it himself? It wasn’t until he saw the man get into a Jeep and drive away that he realized it was Quinn Walker. He didn’t think rangers had any authority outside the park, but even so, the incident was enough to send him into a mood that set the tone for the rest of the day.

He left work that night and headed home with new worries on his mind. What if Walker had seen something that made him suspicious? Made him think there was more going on inside the mountain than a mushroom-growing business? He was convinced his own guilt was written on his face, obvious to anyone who looked at him.

* * *

By the time Buell got home that evening he was exhausted. He hadn’t slept well in weeks and now, knowing one branch of the law was nosing around the mine, he knew things were only going to get worse.

When he went into the house it was easy to see that Portia had been crying. He sighed, wondering what the hell had happened now.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, as he took off his boots and hung up his jacket.

“The Colvins.”

He frowned. “Oh. Yeah, that’s a tough one. Makes you wonder what the hell kids are coming to these days. Poor Sue, losing her boy and her man all on the same day.”

Portia shivered. “You ain’t heard about Syd?”

Buell’s gut knotted. “What about Syd?”

“When he got home this morning and found out about his brother and Willis, he shot and killed himself, too. Sue found him. Mae called to tell us. She said Sue Colvin has went and lost her mind.”

Buell reeled as if he’d just been punched. Every scenario he could think of was running through his head, but the ending was always the same. What if Syd had smuggled out some coke and Willis had found it? Why else would he feel bad enough about what had happened to his brother and his nephew that he would kill himself? This was something Lonnie probably needed to know, which meant he would have to call the bastard before he went to bed. He was sick to his stomach but couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason for it. All he could think was that this felt like the beginning of the end.

“Where’s Gertie? Where’s the kids?” he muttered, suddenly aware of how quiet the house was.

“Mama took to her room. Said she needed to pray. Since tomorrow was Saturday, I let the kids go to the lock-in at church. They’re gonna watch movies and play games and stuff. One of us will have to go pick them up before ten o’clock tomorrow.”

He nodded. Surely church would be a safe place for them to be.

“What’s for supper?” he asked.

“Stew and cornbread.”

“How long before it’s done?”

“About twenty minutes on the cornbread. I just put it in the oven.”

“Reckon I’ll go feed the critters. I’ll be back in a bit.”

He quickly changed into his old work clothes and was headed out the door when something stopped him. He turned and looked back.

Portia was standing at the stove with her back to the door, slumped over in her usual self-defeated posture with her hair all slick and greasy. But just for a moment he saw her the way she’d looked when they got married—all young and slim, with a smile always on her face.

It occurred to him then that the only thing that had changed from that time to now, besides the passing of the years, was that he’d come into her life. He started to say something to her about being sorry that he hadn’t done better by his family than he had, then changed his mind. It was too late to change what was done, and the less she knew about the way things were now, the better.

Nineteen

Q
uinn left the ranger station feeling frustrated but not surprised. A park ranger had authority only in the reserve and nowhere else, but that didn’t change the fact that he was beyond pissed, knowing the poacher he’d been tracking all this time probably worked at Mountain Mushrooms and he couldn’t touch him. But he knew someone who could.

Sheriff Marlow had already been involved in investigating the case of the hiker killed by the wounded bear. Quinn guessed he would be interested in talking to the man who’d been hunting game animals out of season on federal land and wounded that bear. If they could nail him for involuntary manslaughter, then so much the better.

Quinn knew it was too late to drive down to the sheriff’s office in Boone’s Gap this evening, but he would call Marlow at home tonight. He wasn’t going to let this slide.

As he started for home, he wondered what Mariah and Moses had been doing in his absence. Between the two of them these days, there was no telling. The odd thing about the pup’s presence was that Quinn no longer worried so much about Mariah sliding into a PTSD episode alone and getting hurt. So far the puppy’s presence had been a remarkable tool for stopping them at the onset. His one wish in this world was to spend a long and happy life with her at his side. But she needed to believe in herself again before that could happen.

As he took the turnoff leading to the cabin, he thought again how blessed he was to be able to call this place home. The cabin was small, but they didn’t need that much space. Acquiring things like gas and groceries was an inconvenience because the place was so far off the beaten path, but the solitude suited them and their…situation.

The cabin came into view as he drove around the curve. When he saw Mariah and Moses on the deck, his delight was immediate. There was his family—something he’d almost given up on ever having.

When she saw him coming, Mariah waved, then came down the steps to meet him as he parked and got out.

“Welcome home, Quinn.” She slid her arms around his neck for a kiss, and he quickly obliged.

“Mmm, you smell good. Are you wearing perfume?”

She laughed. “No, I don’t even own perfume. It’s vanilla. I tried to make cookies. They’re not completely successful, but they’re edible.”

“Honey! Way to go!” he said, lifting her off her feet and swinging her up into his arms, which set Moses to barking. “Hush up, boy, I saw her first.”

Mariah grinned. She wasn’t used to being the center of attention, but she could learn to like it.

“Moses is in trouble anyway,” she said, as they started up the steps.

Quinn frowned. “What did he do?”

“Ran away while I was gardening. I trailed him all the way up to the waterfall, then into the cave. I could tell he’d been in there, but he was nowhere to be seen. Just when I was about to give up, he came running out of that passageway and jumped into my lap.”

Quinn eyed the pup who trailed them inside.

“Boy, you don’t know how lucky you are that she went to find you.” He glanced at Mariah. She was still upset. “You may have to start tying him up when you’re busy with other activities outside, at least until he gets a little older.”

“I hate to, but I know you’re right.”

“So where are those cookies you made?”

She pointed at the cooling rack on the counter.

“They’re pretty lopsided, and we didn’t have any raisins to put in them, but we had oatmeal and cinnamon. Like I said, they’re edible.”

Quinn popped one in his mouth. “Mmm! These are good, really good. And I’ll make sure to put raisins on the list next time we go shopping.”

She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.

“Your mom has promised to teach me how to cook. Hang in there with me long enough and I just might catch on to more of this girl stuff.”

Quinn swallowed the cookie and grabbed two more to take upstairs.

“You do whatever makes you happy, but just so you know, you’re all the woman any man could want just the way you are.”

“So you say,” Mariah said. “But as you can see, we don’t have any food cooked for supper.”

“These will tide me over until we get something made,” he said, and popped another cookie in his mouth. “Be right back.” Then he headed for the utility room to strip off his work clothes.

To his surprise, he saw she’d hung a clean pair of old sweats and a T-shirt for him to put on without having to go upstairs.

“Hey, you,” he called.

Mariah turned. “What?”

“Thank you for thinking of me.”

Her eyes darkened. “I think of you all the time, but you’re welcome.”

“It’s funny. All this time I lived here alone I never once thought of doing that. Instead I stripped down here, then went all the way upstairs to shower and change, even though there’s a shower right beside the washer.”

The praise filled her up, but in the back of her mind she couldn’t help but wonder how long the good times would last. If she was losing it, then surely one day she would lose
him,
as well.

She turned away before he saw her tears.

But Moses knew something was wrong and nosed at her heel.

Mariah sighed, then knelt and pulled the puppy into her arms and whispered in his ear. “You know my secrets, don’t you, boy?”

Moses licked her ear, then her cheek, whining softly as he sensed her unsettled state.

By the time Quinn got out of the shower she had prepped as much as she could for their supper and was making a fresh pot of coffee.

Quinn kissed the back of her neck, then patted her rump before turning on the stove to heat up the skillet. Soon the house was filled with an array of enticing aromas.

Moses was eating his puppy kibble and Mariah was setting the table when Quinn remembered what he’d discovered.

“Oh, hey, you won’t believe what I ran into today. Footprints that match the poacher’s prints I found at the kill sites.”

“You’re kidding! Do you know who it is? Did you arrest him yet?”

“No arrests. Not sure who they belong to yet, but I think I know where he works. At Mountain Mushrooms, that business that went in at the old mine site.”

“What are you going to do?”

“It’s more about what
can
I do. I’m going to have to tell Sheriff Marlow. This is all out of my jurisdiction, but I sure want to be around when they ID and arrest him.”

“Good job!” she said.

“It’s been a good day all around.” Then he stopped and looked at the pup crunching away at his dinner. “Except for one very naughty puppy.”

“I’ll second that,” Mariah said.

Moses stopped chewing and looked up toward the ceiling, then woofed softly.

“He does that every evening,” she said. “What’s the deal?”

“It’s probably the owl. It perches up on this roof just about every night.”

“Oh, wow! Those are some pretty good ears he’s got.”

“And his sense of smell is even better,” Quinn said. “Nothing beats a hound for following a trail, and our little redbone has the makings of a real fine dog.”

Mariah glanced up at the ceiling, imagining the owl perched just overhead, and then finished setting the table.

* * *

After supper was over and the dishes were cleaned up, Mariah took Moses outside for a last trip before bedtime.

Quinn took the opportunity to call Sheriff Marlow and tell him what he’d found. Marlow answered on the third ring.

“Marlow residence.”

“Hey, Sheriff, this is Quinn Walker. Sorry to be bothering you at home, but I have some information about the poacher that I think will interest you.”

“I’m all ears, son. What do you know?”

“I don’t know if you were aware of it, but I found a distinctive boot print up at the kill sites that has a notch out of one heel.”

“No, I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, so today I happened to stop up near the gate to Mountain Mushrooms, and I saw that same boot print in the dirt. I trailed it all the way to the gates, but the gates are locked and I didn’t see anyone around to let me in. I wanted a list of the employees, however my boss reminded me that my authority ends once I’m outside the reserve, but I damn well don’t want this man to get away. He’s indirectly responsible for one man’s death and another man being crippled, never mind the loss of an entire pack of hunting dogs, as well as who knows how much livestock.”

“I’ll get that list,” Marlow said, “and I’ll find out myself who’s wearing them boots.”

“Excellent. I would consider it a favor if you’d let me know if and when you’re ready to make an arrest. I’d like to be there.”

“I can do that,” Marlow said. “However, I’m a little tied up at the moment with this mess with the Colvin family. Got lab tests back from the coroner’s office just now, and it appears we’ve got a new drug dealer in the area, so you might keep an eye out for anything suspicious on your rounds.”

Quinn frowned. “What makes you think there’s a new player?”

“Willis Colvin had cocaine in his system. Nearly pure, which is probably why he flipped plumb out.”

“We’ve had drug issues around here for years,” Quinn said.

“Yeah, meth, pot, prescription drugs, but this is high-dollar shit. And this is not a place where high-dollar drugs would be in demand, mostly because no one on Rebel Ridge has that kind of money. However, that doesn’t exclude the possibility of a new drug setup around here. This would be a real good place to hide something like that. Ship it in and cut it. Ship it out and sell it. That’s how some of them work.”

“The only new business I know of is Mountain Mushrooms, where my poacher probably works.”

“Yeah, I know all about… Well, shit. I didn’t put it together until just now,” Marlow suddenly said.

“What?”

“Syd Colvin works—worked…up there on the night shift. It was Syd’s nephew, his brother’s son, who had the coke in his system when he killed his dad. The kid was going after his own mother when he dropped dead at her feet. This morning, when Syd got home and found out what happened, he offed
him
self, too. That’s about one too many coincidences for me.”

The news gave Quinn the creeps. No one had said the name Lonnie Farrell yet, but he knew they were both thinking it.

“But you can’t get search warrants based on coincidence, can you, Sheriff?”

“No, son, you can’t. But that won’t stop me from digging around until I find me a good reason to get one.”

“I know you’ll do all you can,” Quinn said. “So I’ll let you get back to your evening, but if there’s anything I can do to help you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Will do, and thanks again.”

Confident he’d done all he could from his side of the badge, Quinn disconnected. Now it was up to Marlow to tie up all the loose ends.

* * *

As soon as Buell finished supper, he went outside to make a call to Lonnie. He didn’t want what he had to say to be overheard.

While he waited for the call to go through, he began thinking about how to begin such a deadly conversation. He knew someone was going to pay for what had happened and was damn glad he didn’t cover the night shift. Considering the fact that Syd Colvin’s brother and nephew were dead because of drugs, and Syd worked the night shift and killed himself after finding out what happened, it all felt like too many clues pointing at their operation. Shit was gonna hit the fan for sure, and Buell planned to be upwind when it happened.

Then Lonnie answered, and Buell shifted focus.

“I’m in the middle of something,” Lonnie said. “What do you want?”

“I thought you’d be interested in knowing that Syd Colvin, a guy who worked the night shift, went home this morning and killed himself.”

Lonnie blinked. Syd was the guy who’d opened the gate for Miguel and his men during the delivery.

“What the fuck for?” he asked.

“It’s just a guess, but I’m thinking it’s because when Syd got off work, he found out his brother and nephew were dead. It seems the nephew was all freaked out on some drug. He went and killed his daddy, then was going after his mother when he dropped at her feet, had a fit and died. Granted, Syd could have killed hisself out of grief…or he could have done it because he felt guilty. And if I think that, you can damn well bet the cops are gonna be thinking it, too.”

Lonnie felt all the blood draining from his head. “Does anyone know what kind of drug he was on?” Lonnie asked.

“I ain’t heard, but you can be sure if the cops don’t know yet, they will soon.”

Lonnie felt sick. “If it came from us, then how the fuck did you let this happen? There were all kinds of safeguards set in place. Were you in on it, too? Were you getting a cut of the money?”

The skin crawled on the back of Buell’s neck. This was exactly where he’d known Lonnie would go.

“You forget. I only work the day shift. One of your hotshot chemists is doing oversight on the night shift, not me, so don’t you fuckin’ try to pin this shit on me, you hear? All I did was call to give you a heads-up. What you do with your night crew is your decision.”