Lure (14 page)

"Why did they build it?" Sam asked.

The man looked annoyed by her questions but seemed to be trying to hide his annoyance. He wasn't very good at it. "Dr. Morse wanted to create a resort in this valley, and he wanted good folks, like you, to be able to come up to the top of the chimney and see the lake he planned to build cradled by the mountains he loved." There was no emotion in the man's voice, only the stale recitation of a memorized speech.

"How big is the chimbly?"

It didn't appear the man had a canned answer for that question, and he stumbled for a moment before responding, "It's big."

"Oh." The little girl said.

The awkward silence was broken as the whine of the rising elevator lowered in pitch, and Sam could feel their ascent slowing. With a slight bump, the elevator stopped, and the man yanked on the release handle for the door, which only moved a few inches. After another yank, and an annoyed look from the stern-faced man, the door opened enough to allow one person through at a time. The older girl was no longer content to wait, and made her way into the waiting gift shop. The younger girl didn't want to be left behind. The big man was about to give a third yank, when the little girl tripped and fell, almost hurting herself on the exposed edge of the metal grate. Almost instinctively, the big man reached down and helped the girl up.

The girl's tears lasted only a moment, and the big man apologized before yanking the grate the rest of the way open. Sam kept her eyes on the gift shop, not wanting to show any reaction to what she had seen. After stepping into the gift shop, she asked herself why someone working in an elevator at a state park would need to wear a concealed radio. When the big man bent down, she had seen the almost clear plastic coil that went from behind the man's ear before disappearing beneath his shirt collar.

Shells stepped out before Sam, and she could feel the man's stare until the elevator door closed.

"That guy was just a ball of fun, wasn't he?" Shells asked.

"Yeah," Sam said, looking around, no longer in civilian mode, her cop instincts jumped to full alert as she scanned the premises. Cameras, four of them, and a sharp-eyed woman scooping ice cream who also constantly scanned the shop. A set of double doors opened out onto the natural rock formation, and flanking it was an oversized hulk of a man in too-dark jeans and a finely pressed, button down, short sleeve shirt; he held a Chimney Rock Park brochure in one hand. On the other side was a younger man in black jeans, a plain grey t-shirt, and a red and white baseball cap with no logo on it. Dark sunglasses with large oblong lenses hid his eyes and part of his face. He held one of the gift shop branded bags in his right hand, and it appeared to hold a t-shirt.

Sam didn't see any weapons, but she could almost sense that they were not far away, and that at any given moment these men were but a breath away from taking her life. It was a feeling she had grown accustomed to when working on the force, but it seemed out of place here, and Sam's curiosity grew.

Shells was watching a video loop on a small monitor mounted in a corner. "Did you know they shot The Last of the Mohicans here? And Dirty Dancing?"

"I did not know that," Sam said, noticing that she had caught the ice cream woman's eye. "Want some ice cream?"

"Hell yeah," Shells said. "I'm down with ice cream. We cool like that."

"So you're not gonna give me a dirty look for offering the fat chick an ice cream cone?" Sam asked

"I was on a diet at the time," Shells said. "And now I'm not. Deal with it."

Sam didn't say any more.

The two of them moved to the ice cream counter, and the woman seemed annoyed that they were blocking her view. She didn't say anything, and very little in her posture would give away such a thing; but Sam found herself perceiving things about this woman based on her overall stance, her energy almost threatening. Sam shuddered at the thought; she was starting to sound like Aunt Julie. Still, through some combination of her training and what she was feeling, Sam knew she annoyed this woman deeply.

"What can I get for you two lovely young ladies today?" she said, a fake smile plastered to her face.

Shells nudged Sam to one side, "I'd like two scoops of blueberry cheesecake ice cream on a sugar cone, with jimmies."

"I'm sorry. What are jimmies?"

"Those things," Shells said, pointing at the containers of small candies.

"Oh, you mean sprinkles," the woman said, her annoyance almost showing through the mask she wore.

"Those are jimmies," Shells insisted, "but you can call them sprinkles if you want. That's cool."

The woman handed her the cone, which seemed to have structural issues, and spent a moment figuring out how to ring it up correctly. "Four thirty-five," she said.

It looked to Sam as if Shells would lose her ice cream if she tried to pay for it, so Sam handed the woman a twenty.

"Thanks, dude," Shells said, holding up one of the scoops with her tongue.

"What would you like?" the woman asked, looking over Sam's shoulder as the elevator door opened once again in multiple stages.

"I'll take a scoop of black cherry on a regular cone, please."

The woman wasn't listening. A moment later, she turned back to Sam. "I'm sorry. What was that?"

"A scoop of black cherry on a regular cone."

"Wise choice," Shells said, still trying to attach the top scoop of ice cream by pressing down on it with her tongue. The big man by the door was watching her a little too closely.

"Four thirty-five," the woman said. Sam handed her a five.

"Wait a minute," Shells said. "Mine was four thirty-five, and I had two scoops and jimmies. Are you ripping my girl off?" Shells probably would have said more, but her ice cream had begun to slide.

"Yes. Of course. I'm sorry. Two dollars. Here is your change."

Sam just accepted the change and her cone and walked away. When walking through the doorway, she risked a quick glance back at the price board above the woman's head. There she found a single scoop cone was $2.50, and a double scoop was $3.00. Toppings were free. Sam just turned back so she wouldn't catch the woman's eye.

The view beyond was difficult to describe. Weather worn stone loomed for a short distance, and a set of stairs had been erected, leading to the point where the rock extended out and away from the mountain. They were not all the way at the top of the mountain, which rose to greater heights behind them, but the view to the east had to cover thirty to forty miles. Nestled within the lush greenery was an aquamarine jewel that filled the valley floor. Not wide and round like lakes in the flatlands, this lake was narrower and followed the contour of the valley, at one point meeting up with a perpendicular valley that formed what almost looked like a cross-piece, as if the lake were a mighty sword, or even a cross. More mountains pierced hazy air in the distance. In many ways it looked like a different planet to Sam, since her world had always been mostly flat, this was foreign to her.

What looked like a schoolyard fence surrounded the edge of the chimney, but it seemed like precious little between them and a lethal drop. A tingling sensation in Sam's gut grew more intense when she neared the fence. She was normally not afraid of heights, but this view almost forced one to envision what it would be like to fall from such a precipice. Directly below them they could see the tops of ancient trees and the winding blacktop that would take them back into the valley below. Beyond that, the Broad River cut through rock and soil, and the huge boulders looked like pebbles from this vantage point.

"Holy crap," Shells said between licks of her ice cream. Sam had almost finished her cone, and she barely tasted it. Too many strange things weren't adding up. She wondered how Shells could be so oblivious, but she remembered that she herself had been that way once, and only training and practice had raised her awareness and level of observation. Shells seemed content to just coast past all the clues and hope nothing bit her in the ass, but Sam had learned that things that don't look right usually aren't, and amidst all this beauty, something was seriously not right. The scale of it worried her greatly.

"This place is awesome, man," Shells said. "I could totally move here."

"Yeah," Sam said. "It's awesome."

"That's Rumbling Bald over there," A man said to the woman standing beside him. "They say the mountain itself moves and makes noises, and that it's actually alive. I think it must be sitting on its own mini fault line."

Sam stood and listened, intrigued.

"Over there," the man said pointing, "is Brown Mountain. That's where they see the Brown Mountain lights. They say there is a race of little people that was here before the Native Americans, and that these little people guard this area, including Brown Mountain and Lake Lure."

"Oh, man. Brain freeze," Shells said after finishing off her cone. After holding her head in both hands for a moment, she looked for a trashcan, her hand full of sticky napkins. "Hey, buddy!" she said, and Sam turned to see a raccoon sitting atop a nearby trashcan, looking for food.

"I wouldn't go too close to him," Sam said. Shells wadded up the napkins and tossed them at the can as if it were the last free throw in the NBA championships. The raccoon reached out and tried to catch it, and gave her a disappointed look when the napkin dropped into the can.

"Swoosh," Shells said. "Nothing but net!"

The men flanking the doors took notice but did not make eye contact.

"C'mon, Shells," Sam said. "Let's go see about that boat ride."

"Cool," she said. She did what looked like a victory walk back through the gift shop, the t-shirts and nick-knacks not even drawing her eye.

The ride back down the elevator proved no more comforting than the ride up.

"How far down does this thing go?" Shells asked, and Sam wished she hadn't. It was clear this question alarmed the man, who now looked at the two of them with suspicion. How could Shells not see these things?

"It only goes between the tunnel and the gift shop, ma'am."

"Bullshit," Shells said, and Sam suddenly wished they were not alone in the elevator with this man. If this elevator did go anywhere else, Sam feared the two of them might disappear forever. Instead, they reached the bottom without incident, and the man said no more. "That dude is friggen' creepy," Shells said as soon as they stepped out of the elevator, and Sam was certain he heard her. It didn't help that she turned around and pointed at the gap between the tunnel and the elevator. "And I bet that elevator goes down, too. I mean, why would someone go to all that effort and not go down as well."

"Let's go," Sam said, and she gave Shells a look.

"What?" Shells asked, trying to keep up with Sam. "What did I miss? Damn. I missed something. Shit. Wait up."

Sam slowed when she neared the sunlight. Standing next to the little table where the woman had been, was another stern looking man with short-cropped hair and mirrored sunglasses. When he saw Sam and Shells, he touched his ear, and Sam's skin crawled. They were indeed being watched.

"I want to get one of those sticks," Shells said.

"Not now, Shells. Let's just get out of here. OK?"

"Damn. I really did miss something, didn't I?"

Sam didn't answer; she just did her best to avoid making eye contact with the man at the table. She knew it was one of the worst things to do when trying to remain unnoticed, but she also knew her feelings would show if he saw the look in her eyes, so she kept walking.

"What's going on, dude? Seriously."

"Is there anyone following us?" Sam asked, and Shells turned for a quick look. "The guy by the table is walking this way, but he's not looking at us."

"I bet he isn't," Sam said. "On my word, run."

"What?"

"Now. Run," Sam said, and she took off toward the car. It took Shells a minute to realize she was serious, and she had trouble keeping up.

"Wait. Dude. Wait. What the hell is going on?" Shells asked as she half jogged, half ran. Sam wanted to tell her that yelling while she was running was not the best way to get more speed, but she knew the words would do no good. When she got to the car she fumbled with the keys, seeing the reflection of the man trotting toward them in the car window.

"C'mon, Shells!"

With trembling hands, Sam jammed the key in and wiggled it until the door unlocked. She had the car fired up, in reverse and was reaching to unlock the passenger door when Shells finally made it to the car.

"Dude. What the hell?" Shells asked as she got in the car, but Sam didn't answer, instead, she revved the engine and dropped the clutch. Smoke poured from the tires as the Camaro roared out of the parking spot. After slamming the car into first gear, Sam jumped hard on the throttle and smoked the tires again, heading toward the first of the hairpin turns. In the mirror, through the smoke, Sam could see the man trying to write down her license plate number, but she was pretty sure the smoke would make it difficult for him.

"Brake, brake, brake!" Shells screamed while stomping on the imaginary brake pedal on the passenger side. Sam did hit the brakes and pitched the car sideways, just as she had learned to do when driving on dirt, only she had to keep her foot harder on the throttle to keep the tires from hooking up.