In the Woods (9 page)

Harper sat on a folding chair beside Hank, thinking about what might push someone to murder. Jealousy? Betrayal? Deceit? All of that was present among Angela, Stan, Phil and Cindi. But it all emanated from Angela and Stan, the unhealed wounds of their marriage. Harper wondered about healing. If she and Hank got divorced and then remarried – no, her stomach flipped at the very thought. She hated Hank’s new wife, hated Hank for being happy without her. She turned to look at Hank. Took his hand and squeezed. Was relieved that he squeezed back.

Cindi was still talking when Ranger Daniels got off his radio.

‘Ma’am,’ he addressed Cindi, ‘I could hear you talking the whole time I was trying to speak to Captain Slader. Let me be clear: no one’s accusing you or your husband of anything. The captain just needs to come have a look at that rifle and talk to the two of you. He’ll probably want you to come back to my office to answer some questions.’

‘Why? We don’t know anything,’ Cindi insisted.

‘She’s lying, Ranger,’ Angela said. ‘She’s a manipulative, scheming whore who’s not capable of telling the truth—’

‘Now, now,’ Daniels hands went up. ‘Let’s not start up again.’

But Cindi bolted up, hissing. ‘Why can’t you just leave us alone, Angela?’

‘Me? Leave
you
alone? I think you’ve got it backwards. Ask your husband—’

This time, Harper’s whistle was so harsh and shrill that it rattled their skulls.

Daniels continued, uninterrupted. He told Stan and Cindi to stay at their campsite until the captain arrived. ‘Ordinarily, I’d wait here with you, but a man’s missing and daylight’s waning, and that takes priority.’

‘Fine,’ Stan agreed. ‘We’ll wait here.’

Daniels apologized, explaining that, because of cuts in government funding, he didn’t have an assistant to help out. He appreciated their cooperation.

‘No problem.’ Stan stood. ‘But since you’re short-handed, maybe you’d want Cindi and me to help search.’

‘Yeah.’ Angela rushed at him. ‘You bet. You could help the search a lot because you probably know exactly where to look. Why don’t you save us time and just tell us where Phil is?’

‘Ma’am …’ Daniels began.

‘You’re sick, Angela.’ Stan’s voice was low, rumbling. ‘Get help.’

‘What did you do to him, Stan?’

‘Nothing,’ Cindi shrieked. ‘You’re obsessed with Stan, Angela. Why can’t you let go?’

‘Everyone, please. Calm down.’ Daniels raised his voice.

‘If anyone here’s obsessed, Cindi, it’s you. You wanted my house, my friends, my husband. Face it. You wanted to be me.’

‘I’d sooner be a cockroach.’

Daniels turned to Harper, gave her a nod. She raised her fingers to her mouth, and inhaled, ready to whistle again.

‘EVERYONE SHUT UP!’

The voice was thundering. Dangerous. And it came from Hank.

Even the birds didn’t make a sound.

Then, in a slow, gentle voice, Ranger Daniels asked Stan where his vehicle was parked. Stan told him that it was back at the campground.

‘I’ll need your keys.’

‘Sorry?’ Stan stuck his hands in his pockets, stood tall.

‘You’ll get them back after you talk to the captain.’

‘I told you we’d wait for him. Are you saying I’m lying?’

Harper rolled her eyes. ‘He’s saying he needs your keys as insurance.’

Stan unleashed a torrent of protests. ‘You have no right. This is a free country. You have no cause to take my keys or anything else. I haven’t done anything wrong. You’re violating my civil rights.’

Daniels waited for Stan to stop. He checked his watch. ‘Sorry. Sun’s going to go soon and we got to move. I agree this is unconventional. But look at it from my point of view. I’ve got no way to guarantee that you’ll stay put. And I’ll remind you again: I have a missing man, a dead man, a bullet fragment that’s the same caliber as your ammunition, and a rifle that’s been fired that the owner says wasn’t fired, and that owner is someone who has conflicts with the wife of the missing man. I’d be remiss if I didn’t assure your presence for questioning. How do I know you won’t take off?’

‘Because I said I wouldn’t.’ Stan’s gaze was steady, aimed at Daniels’ eyes.

For a long moment, the two men stared at each other, neither moving, neither talking. Cindi, Angela, Harper and Hank stood waiting. Finally, Stan sighed, reached into his vest pocket.

‘No, Stan.’ Cindi breathed. ‘Stand your ground.’

Daniels took the keys. ‘You’ll get them back soon as Slader’s done with you.’

‘How could you do that?’ Cindi scolded. ‘He’s got no right.’

Daniels gave Hank a radio. As planned earlier, the search team split up. Daniels and Angela headed north, Hank and Harper south. They were to meet up at sunset at the ranger’s office. If anyone found Phil, they were to get in touch by radio.

As they left Stan and Cindi, Harper turned to say goodbye, but Cindi had gone into the tent and zipped it closed. Stan stood alone on a tarp, eyes on fire, watching Angela walk away.

Hank’s brows were furrowed, his eyes on the trail. He was experienced in tracking, knew what to look for. In their hiking trips, he’d taught Harper what to do in case she got lost. The first rule, Phil had already broken. It was to stay put.

Beyond that, a lost person was supposed to stomp as he walked, digging his feet in the ground, making clear prints. And he was supposed to leave a trail of personal objects, like pencils for example, pointing in the direction he was going.

If Phil had followed these rules, they hadn’t seen any sign of it. Which would mean they were on the wrong path.

Harper walked in silence, studying the path, looking for a pattern of dislodged leaves and gravel, or twigs broken from the weight of being stepped on. Footsteps, though, wouldn’t tell them anything. Any number of people might have walked there.

‘Phil,’ she called. ‘Philip Russo.’

Nothing.

They walked on. In the distance, someone fired a rifle. Twice. Probably hunting.

Harper took Hank’s hand.

‘Do you think it’s just a coincidence?’ he asked.

Harper knew what he meant. ‘The exes both being here? I doubt it. You?’

‘If Stan comes up here every weekend, and camps exactly where he used to camp with Angela, it seems like Angela would have had a pretty good idea where he’d be.’

Harper nodded. ‘Then again, maybe she thought it was “their” spot. And that Stan wouldn’t go there now that they’re not together.’

Hank didn’t answer.

Harper called out Phil’s name again.

Nothing.

‘Those two sure hate each other.’ Hank put his arm around Harper.

‘It’s hard to believe they were ever married.’ Harper looked up at him. ‘How did it get so nasty? I mean they used to love each other.’

The arm tightened just a tad. ‘Maybe they never really did.’

Harper thought about that, couldn’t imagine being married to someone she didn’t love. Her earlier doubts about Hank’s reasons for wanting to go camping seemed trivial now. She walked in step with him, her breathing in sync with his. Probably their hearts were beating together. Had Angela ever felt this linked to Stan?

Hank pulled away, moved to the left. ‘What’s this?’ He pushed a vine away, revealing a KEEP OUT sign. It was attached to a vine-covered chain-link fence, topped with barbed wire.

Harper looked beyond the fence, saw a field, a mound of rocks and dirt among the trees. She’d seen mounds shaped like that before, in the Middle East. They concealed bomb shelters or bunkers.

‘This doesn’t look right,’ Hank said.

No, it didn’t.

‘If this area is off limits because of the pipeline, the sign would say so. It would be marked with an official logo. Same with the state. State signs are labeled.’

But the sign looked generic. Had no logo, no official marking.

Harper pulled the vine away, exposing more of the fence. She walked along, yanking vines, exposing it, following around a corner. She peered into the blocked off area, studying the mound, sure that it concealed something.

‘Fence is fairly new.’ Hank touched barbed wire. ‘What do you think this is? It’s right in the middle of the state forest.’

Harper wasn’t sure. She wanted to climb over it, find out what was on the other side. What was hidden by the mound of rocks. She pictured insurgents, dug in, ready to strike.

‘That little hill,’ Hank said. ‘It looks man-made. Maybe some loner built himself a hut in there and wants people to back off.’

Maybe.

‘Someone should check it out.’

Harper looked at him. She was ready to jump the fence.

‘No.’ Hank shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean us, Harper. We’re here looking for a missing man—’

‘But maybe he’s in there. Maybe he got curious and climbed the fence. Maybe he’s trapped there. Maybe the ground opens up and he fell in—’

A sharp boom shook the trees. Reflexively, Harper ducked, pulled Hank down with her.

‘We’re fine. Harper? It’s okay.’

But Harper knew that it wasn’t. She was well acquainted with the sound of explosive devices. ‘Stay down,’ she ordered.

‘It’s nothing,’ Hank said. ‘Probably the gas company doing some work.’

The gas company? What? Harper crouched low, waiting. Watching. Listening for sniper fire, for the screams of wounded men. She blinked, looked around. Where was her patrol? And, oh God – where was her weapon?

‘Harper.’ The voice was far away. ‘You need your lemon?’

Her lemon? She gazed into the trees, vaguely aware that they were too green, too lush for the war zone. Expecting insurgents. Maybe an ambush.

Hank knelt beside her, spoke gently. ‘I promise. We’re okay.’ He kissed her forehead, held up a round yellow thing. ‘Need this?’

Wait – Hank? She looked from him to the lemon, back to him. The war flickered, faded away. Oh God. No. She didn’t need the lemon. She stood, brushed herself off, and turned away so he wouldn’t see her flushed red face. She’d almost slipped into a flashback. Damn. She was not going to let that happen, wouldn’t allow it. Wouldn’t get swallowed by the past just because some gas company was blowing up rocks nearby. But they should warn people about what they were doing, shouldn’t they? After all, the area was packed with hunters and campers. Never mind. It was probably fine. Hank seemed to think it was. But Harper remained on edge, ready to bolt. Nothing here seemed fine.

She called out Phil’s name again. Got no response.

A breeze rustled the leaves. The sun was getting low. She estimated another hour of sunlight. Felt unsteady. Needed to focus.

‘Do you really think Stan did something to Phil?’ she asked. ‘Because what about that local militia group – the Hunt Club?’

‘What about it?’

‘Well, they hate the pipeline, right? And fracking, too. So maybe they assassinated the guy from the pipeline. And maybe Phil was there and saw the shooting so they had to take him prisoner. In fact, maybe that explosion was the militia training for combat—’

‘Harper, hold on.’ Hank stopped walking. ‘You’re spiraling. You can speculate all day and just go in circles. If that explosion was anything unusual, the fire department, the park service, and every volunteer this side of Pennsylvania will be racing to deal with it.’

He was right.

‘And as to Phil? I’m trying to believe he just wandered off. But right now, I’m concerned about you and your flashbacks. Be honest. Finding that body this morning, and searching for Phil, is it stirring up more than you can handle? Tell me. We can stop—’

‘No. No, I want to help. It’s just … something feels wrong.’

Hank started walking again. ‘Yep, it does,’ he said. He started to say something else, but before he could, a scream shook the forest, soul-searing and female.

The sector chief finally got home, poured himself a mug of lukewarm coffee and went to his landline. Hiram answered on the first ring.

‘Where’ve you been?’ Hiram was breathing fast. ‘Do you have any idea what the fuck is going on? I’ve been trying to reach you—’

‘Been busy.’ He gulped some coffee.

‘Well, so have I. You got to be more accessible. Everything’s gone crazy. Do you know who set it off?’

‘Set what off?’

‘Your mama’s knickers. What do you think? That bomb or whatever it was that just exploded.’

The chief swallowed too fast, almost choked. ‘What?’

‘Where the hell were you, in Kansas? You must have heard it. Somewhere out by the old hunting lodge. Not ten minutes ago.’

Come to think of it, he had heard it. Heavy, like thunder. But he’d been concentrating on other problems, hadn’t paid attention. Damn.

‘I haven’t been out there yet, but I sent a couple guys out right away. Meantime, I’ve called around. Nobody admits to it, but what with everything else that’s going on, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s some of our own people raising hell.’

‘No, can’t be.’ The chief lowered himself into a kitchen chair. ‘We agreed nobody would go off on their own.’

‘I wouldn’t be too sure. People are pissed off. What with that shooting, the state cops are going to be here, blaming us. And the press. There’ll be fucking TV cameras and lights, and the gas company, the pipeline company – they’re all going to be here. Plus the woods are already crawling with weekenders. Josh is hopping mad.’

‘Tell Josh to sit on it. He needs to stop parading around—’

‘It’s not just Josh. Mavis and her people swear they won’t put up with more outsiders – she’s insisting that this is it, the invasion, and she’s telling everyone to gather up arms—’

‘Shit,’ the chief said again. He rubbed his eyes. ‘Not again. Mavis and her pigtail vigilantes—’

‘I know. But she’s just saying what the others are thinking.’

‘I’ll talk to her. You think she set off a bomb out there?’

‘Mavis? No. She’d have said.’ For a moment, Hiram didn’t go on. The chief heard him breathing. Hiram had a way of hesitating, as if he had to be a damned politician. Practicing tact.

‘What? Tell me,’ the chief growled. He leaned on his kitchen table, messed with the salt shaker. Knocked it over. Spilled some salt. Damn. Wasn’t that bad luck? Weren’t you supposed to toss salt over your shoulder when you spilled it? But which shoulder? The chief had no idea. It was bullshit anyway. What was the deal with Hiram? What was he hiding? ‘Did you call a meeting like I told you?’