Текст книги "Last Resort"

Автор книги: Jeff Shelby

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

SIX

In the book of activities and maps Delilah had put together for us in the cabin, the trail was called The Wild Trail. There was no explanation as to what made it wild and, as we followed the signs past the pool and clubhouse that pointed us in the direction of the dirt trail that cut through the surrounding woods, I wondered what we'd find. Wild animals lurking behind trees? A trail that needed to be hacked through with a machete? With my imagination, I could come up with tons of plausible scenarios.

I turned to Jake to ask him but then remembered our conversation in the storage lot. I wasn't sure I wanted his opinion about anything else at that moment.

We crested a hill behind the pool and traded pavement for dirt and gravel. I pressed my foot to the pedal, urging us faster as the path narrowed to a thin dirt strip canopied by massive pine trees and wild berry bushes. The trail was full of ruts and ditches and I swore under my breath and slowed the cart down to avoid toppling over. In some spots, the tree branches reached so far over the trail that Jake and I found ourselves leaning toward the middle of the cart, our shoulders bumping together.

There were few open spaces as we careened down the trail, the path descending deeper into the forest as it twisted and curved. I kept my eyes open, but didn't see a clue or the medallion pinned to a tree or lying in the middle of the path.

I eased my foot onto the brake until we came to a stop. It was quiet, save for a few birds chirping high above us in the tree branches. “I don't see anything,” I finally said.

Jake glanced around us. “Really? I see trees, the path, birds, shadows—”

“You know what I mean,” I said, irritated. “I don't see anything related to our hunt.”

“Just keep going,” Jake said. “We're already here. Let's see what we see.”

I slumped forward and leaned my forehead on the steering wheel. “He's going to beat us.”

“No, he won't,” Jake said, rubbing my back. “We're on the right path.” He paused. “Get it? Because we're on a path?”

I lifted my head up and glanced at him. “I get it.”

I slid my foot off the brake and the wheels turned in the dirt and gravel as we started down the path again. We came to a near ninety degree turn, with a massive tree sitting right in the middle of the trail. I maneuvered around it and saw, just up ahead, a very tiny clearing off to the right of the path. There was a small wooden bench with a large boulder parked next to it.

I pulled into the clearing and set the parking brake. “This is the only thing we've seen so far on this trail.”

Jake nodded. “Agreed. But I can't believe it would just be out here in the open. The clues have gotten progressively more difficult.”

I slid off the bench seat and stepped on to the trail. “But we haven't seen anything else. No clues, no medallion, no anything.”

“I know.”

I walked around the cart and over to the boulder. There was nothing attached to the large rock, nothing tucked in the dirt next to it. I continued over to the bench and sat down on it. It wobbled and lifted a little and I slid to the edge of it, planting my feet firmly on the ground. I felt underneath the seat and around the sides and behind the back rest.

Nothing.

I leaned back, then thought better of it and straightened once again. I sighed. “Nothing.”

Jake climbed out of the cart and joined me on the bench. It wobbled a little more but if he noticed, he didn't say anything. “I'm telling you,” he said, his eyes scanning the canopy of trees above us. “It's on this trail. Or has something to do with this trail.”

I shook my head. “I don't think so.”

I couldn't believe I was going to lose to a jerk like Hackerman. I didn't really care all that much about winning some competition at a campground I knew I wouldn't be coming back to. But to lose to that pompous pig? It felt like I was losing the Super Bowl.

“We would've seen something by now,” I said. “And Hackerman went the other way. In a hurry. I think he knew something.”

“Daisy—”

“I mean, that guy has won six times in a row.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It's apparently his life. He wouldn't have just hauled out of there for no reason. He knew something. Something we didn't.”

“Daisy—”

I made a face. “I can't believe we're going to have to look that guy in the face,” I said. “After he wins and we lose and—”

“Daisy, would you shut up for a second?” Jake said.

I looked at him. “Well, that's rude.”

“Well, if you don't, I won't be able to point out what I see over there in the bushes,” he said matter-of-factly.

“What?”

He pointed across the trail, on the other side of the cart. “Look over there.”

I saw thick, dense shrubbery beneath the tall trees. A few looked like wild raspberry bushes. “I don't see anything.”

He stabbed the air again with his finger. “Left of the big tree on the right. Look straight through the bushes. Down toward the ground.”

I moved my eyes in the direction he was pointing. I squinted. Then I squinted some more.

Then I saw what looked like a red, white and blue ribbon.

Attached to something shiny.

I squinted some more.

There was something there.

I jumped off the bench. “You think that's it?”

“Assuming I was right about the trail, then it might make sense that you'd see it from a sitting position on the bench,” he said. “But you would have to assume—and admit—I was right about the trail.”

“Fine. I admit it,” I said.

Jake raised his eyebrows. “Admit what?”

I rolled my eyes. “That you were right about the trail and anything else you want credit for.” I reached down and pulled on his arm. “Now, come on. Help me dig through the bushes to get the medallion so I can rub that guy's nose in it.”

“Daisy Savage,” he said, letting me pull him up. “Always gracious whether in victory or defeat.”

“Yeah, well, it's gonna be victory this time.”

We crossed the path and waded into the brush at the base of the trees. Branches poked my skin and tickled my palms. I brushed another bush and sharp thorns grazed my thigh. The forest was thicker than it looked from the other side of the path and maneuvering between the bushes was difficult. So was finding solid footing.

“My legs are already cut up,” Jake said from behind me.

“Mine, too.”

“This is worth it?”

“I can't believe you even have to ask.”

I turned sidewise and sidestepped through bushes that rose up to my shoulders. Another thorn pricked me, the back of my arm this time, and a mosquito buzzed my ear. I tried to crouch down to get a better sightline to the medallion but I didn't have any room.

“I'm gonna move here to my left,” I said over my shoulder. “I think it opens up a little bit and I can get lower to the ground.”

Jake grunted in response, whacking at several of the bushes that were preventing him from moving forward.

I sidestepped a few feet to my left, angling for the small clearing, which was more like a little empty space than an actual clearing. But the branches that had been trying to poke my internal organs did recede, only piercing my skin instead. I squinted through the tops of the bushes and I thought I could make out the ribbon again.

“I think I can reach it,” I said over my shoulder.

“Be careful,” Jake said.

“Duh,” I said. I promptly stepped on a tree root, lost my balance and tumbled face first into the bushes.

“Daisy!” Jake yelled. “Are you alright?”

I wiped the dirt from my mouth and closed my eyes to keep the sand and grit from getting in them, too. “I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I tripped,” I said. “I'm fine.”

I laid there for a moment. I rolled my ankles around and tested my knees. I flexed my arms and  brought both hands to my eyes. None of the major limbs appeared to be injured.

With the back of my right hand, I wiped across my eyes, trying to remove the dirt and rocks that were stuck to my face. It took a couple of swipes, but it finally felt like I'd cleared most of it. I tentatively opened my eyes.

I'd removed most of the dirt, so my eyes were clear.

And I could see the medallion, about four feet away.

Around the neck of a man who was lying on the ground with his eyes open, but who most definitely was not alive.

SEVEN

If I'd never seen a dead body before, I probably would've been completely freaked out. But I had, about six months earlier, in a hidden coal chute in the basement of our century old home. I had screamed loudly upon finding it, loud enough to bring the kids running at a fast clip—and half of the entire town of Moose River.

This time, however, I did not scream.

It was more of a whimper crossed with a cry mixed in with a yell.

Jake crashed through the bushes, nearly stepping on my legs when he reached me. I pointed to the source of my whimper/cry/yell and he swore quietly, pulled out his cellphone and called 9-1-1. Then he pulled me up from the ground and we backed out of the brush, standing there quietly on the trail for a moment.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his expression full of concern.

I nodded but he knew I was rattled. I didn't think anyone could ever get used to seeing dead bodies. The person I'd seen in the woods was no Olaf Stunderson. This man was young, probably early twenties. A shock of dark hair, clean shaven-skin, a small bar piercing his eyebrow. Chocolate brown eyes stared skyward, unseeing.

“Did you see any injuries?” Jake asked. “Any kind of trauma to the body?”

Wordlessly, I shook my head.

“And the medallion was around his neck, right?”

“Yes,” I whispered. I squeezed my own eyes shut, trying to block out the image of the dead man. “I probably should've grabbed it.”

Jake shook his head. “I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that.”

“Just so Hackerman doesn't go and rip it off his neck,” I said indignantly. “I wouldn't put it past that jerk. He'll probably do anything to be the winner, remember? Including taking it off of a corpse.”

“Well, I'm gonna go ahead and say you are the winner at finding dead bodies.”

It was a title I absolutely did not want.

Within a couple of minutes, golf carts were flying down the path toward us and people on foot were jogging down the trail. Delilah was the first to arrive in her hot pink golf cart, accompanied by a man in a khaki uniform. She was followed by a golf cart with two men who looked like they were wearing police uniforms. Other golf carts paraded down behind them.

The man in the cart with Delilah glanced our way, then began quietly instructing the others to tape off the trail and the bushy area. He waded into the thicket, then came back out. He spoke to a couple of the men in uniform, then went over to speak to Delilah.

She listened, eyes wide and mouth open, then winced like he'd punched her in the stomach. She shook her head several times. She wrung her hands together, over and over. Then she placed a hand over her mouth.

The officer looked at us for a moment, then waded back into the bushes.

Delilah watched him go, then looked in our direction. She did a near double-take, like she'd forgotten we were there, then headed in our direction. Her steps were slow, like she was walking through quicksand.

“You folks called it in?” she said. “You...you found him?”

I nodded.

Her eyes pinched at the corners and tears spilled on to her cheeks. “This is just terrible.”

“We were looking for the medallion,” I said quickly.

She nodded slowly. “The hunt started today. I didn't figure anyone would be able to find it this fast.”

A moment of ridiculous, completely inappropriate pride sparked inside of me, then extinguished immediately.

“I haven't been back out here since I hid it,” Delilah said. She picked up the end of her gray ponytail and rubbed it between her fingers. “I just figured it would be here until the end of the summer. Or at least close to the end.” She looked at me with red eyes. “How did you find it?”

I pointed at Jake. “He actually found it. We found the clue in the storage lot and he thought the next one might be on the trail. We sat down on the bench because I was convinced it wasn't here. And then he saw it in the bushes.” I paused. “It was an accident more than anything.”

She nodded but didn't say anything. Her hand moved from her ponytail to her mouth and she chewed on a fingernail, her tear-stained eyes swiveling back to the sheriff's people creeping into the bushes. They were moving slowly, in wide arcs, well away from the body and the medallion. I wasn't a detective but I guessed it was so as not to disturb the crime scene. If it was a crime scene.

“You said you know who it is,” I said.

She nodded again. “Yes. I hadn't seen him or heard from him in a couple of days.”

She started speaking again, this time in a lower voice, as if she was talking to herself. “He was mad at me, but he's been mad at me a lot lately. I just thought...” her voice trailed off and she sighed. “I don't know what I thought.”

The officer from Delilah's cart walked to the edge of the brush and used his hands to direct several more of his people. He wasn't loud, but the way he moved and the way people looked to him clearly indicated he was in charge and knew what he was doing.

“His mother is going to be a mess,” Delilah said. The ponytail was back in her hand again and a fresh fountain of tears welled in her eyes. “An absolute mess. And she'll probably blame me.”

“Why's that?” I asked.

“Because she's blamed me for everything for the last ten years,” she said bitterly. Her fingers rubbed faster along the ponytail. “It's become a habit for her.” Her mouth twisted a little. “Didn't used to be like that.”

I had no idea what she was talking about, but it definitely seemed to bother her.

There was a noise and I looked at the bushes again. One of the policemen was blocking my view to the medallion and the body and I couldn't see anything.

Jake's hand slipped into mine and he gave me a gentle squeeze.

“Delilah, who is it exactly?” I asked again. “In the bushes?”

She dropped the ponytail and shoved her hands into her pockets. She rocked back and forth on her heels and she reminded me of a Weeble Wobble.

“That's Harvey,” she finally said.

Harvey. I thought back to our conversation with her when we'd arrived earlier that day. “Harvey. Isn't he the one who you said did your website and had big plans for the resort?”

She nodded and a soft sob escaped. “One and the same.”

EIGHT

By the time the officer in charge made his way over to Jake and me, half of the campground inhabitants had descended on the trail and were watching what was going on. The entire Hackerman family had somehow weaseled their way inside the yellow crime scene tape and they stood off to the side, knee-deep in the brush, watching carefully. Wayne shook hands with the officer at one point, as if they were old friends. I wasn't sure if Hackerman had seen the medallion or not.

The officer removed his hat when he approached us, his expression more serious than dour. “Folks, I'm Sheriff Morris Larrabee. I apologize for taking so long to get to you, but as you've seen there was a lot of work to do.” He motioned over toward Delilah's pink cart. “You mind if we step over this way for a few minutes?”

We followed him over to the cart, away from the crowd so we could have a little more privacy. He was about Jake's size and the tight-fitting khaki uniform he wore showed a body packed with muscle. Short wisps of salt and pepper hair poked out from beneath the hat and his chin and cheeks were smooth and pink, like he'd just shaved before coming down the trail. There wasn't a wrinkle on him and even his boots had maintained their shine on the dusty trail. I wondered if he'd been a Marine. Which made me think of our airport shuttle driver. Ken.

“So,” he said, placing his hands on his hips. His green eyes were small and shrewd. “You found the victim.”

I nodded. “Yes. We came down here looking for the medallion. My husband spotted it in the bushes when we were sitting on the bench. I went into the woods to grab it and I slipped on a tree root or something and when I landed on the ground, I saw Harvey.”

Larrabee raised an eyebrow. “You'd met him?”

“No. We just got here today. Delilah told us who he was.”

“So you had not met him?” His gaze drifted from me to Jake, then back again. “Either of you?”

We both shook our heads.

He watched us both. “How did you come to sit on the bench?” He glanced at the red golf cart I'd been driving. “Seems to me you already had a comfortable place to sit.”

“We were frustrated,” Jake said.

“I was frustrated,” I clarified.

Jake glanced at me, then nodded. “Like Daisy said, we were trying to find the medallion for the game or the hunt or whatever it's called. I happened to see it in the bushes while we were sitting there.”

The sheriff looked at the bench, then toward the crime scene. I half-expected him to walk over and sit down and squint into the woods so he could recreate what we'd described. “And did you see the victim?”

“No, just the medallion,” Jake answered. “We weren't aware the man was there until Daisy fell down.”

Larrabee nodded. He chewed on his lower lip, his gaze never leaving us. I'd done nothing wrong but, under his watchful, unwavering gaze, I suddenly felt like a suspect.

Again.

“You're here on vacation?” he asked.

“We won a trip here,” I said.

“Right,” Larrabee said, as if he already knew this information. “And when did you get here?”

“Earlier today.”

“Was this your first time on the trail?”

“Yes.”

“You've been to other areas of the resort?”

“Mostly up near the camp sites,” Jake answered. “We've been in the clubhouse and to the pool, too, but that's about it.”

“Been into town yet?”

“Town?” Jake asked. “We weren't aware there was much of one.”

The sheriff pressed his lips together and set his hands on his hips, ignoring Jake's comment. “You're visiting from Moose River. Is that correct?”

The sheriff knew more than he was letting on and I wasn't sure what he was getting at.

“Yes,” I said. “Like I said. We won the trip.”

“Fly or drive?”

“Fly.”

Larrabee nodded again and then adjusted the hat on his head. “How are you liking Windy Vista?”

I looked at Jake and he shrugged. “It's been fine until this,” he said. He didn't mention the misleading website or the fact that he'd been lobbying to move to a hotel after discovering we were staying at a glorified campground.

“No other issues?” the sheriff asked. “Everything else fine?”

“Sure,” Jake said.

“Getting along with everyone you've met?”

“Sure,” Jake repeated. I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was becoming irritated.

The sheriff squinted at me. “You sure?”

“Everyone has been perfectly nice,” I said. “It's all been a pleasant surprise.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Delilah does good work here. But I've heard that maybe you weren't getting along with everyone here.”

Jake shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sheriff, I don't think we've been here long enough to do much more than say hi to everyone.”

“And find a dead body,” the sheriff pointed out, his face expressionless.

“Well, yeah. But you know what I mean.”

The sheriff rolled his shoulders like he was trying to relieve tension. “No one you've run into where maybe things didn't go right?”

I suddenly remembered the handshake the sheriff shared with Wayne Hackerman.

“We met the Hackerman family,” I said.

Larrabee shifted his gaze from Jake to me. “Yes, ma'am?”

“Their son jumped out in front of our golf cart,” I explained. “The boy was a little rude and his father was a little...rude.”

“That right?”

“In our opinion, yes,” Jake said curtly. He was done playing nice.

The sheriff hitched his thumbs in his pockets. “Go any further than words?”

I shook my head. “No. A little friendly competition over the medallion, but that was it.”

Larrabee checked over his shoulder, then bit the inside of his cheek again. “Alright, just wanted to see if you'd be honest with me. Off the record? Mr. Hackerman can be a real pain in the rear, but he's generally harmless. He did point me in your direction, but I would've needed to interview you anyway. A lot of hot air, but not much burn. Just avoid him and you'll be fine.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Back on the record. How long are you folks here for?”

“Through the end of the week,” I said, pleased that our impression of Hackerman wasn't off base. I somehow felt validated in getting so irritated with him.

“Alright,” he said. “Goes without saying that I'd ask you to check in with me if those plans change or if you leave the area for an extended period.”

Jake frowned. “So we're suspects?”

“Everyone is at this point, sir,” the sheriff said. “Until I can put together a little more information about the victim and what exactly we have here, I have to consider everything and everyone.”

“We aren't even sure that we're going to stay for the whole week,” Jake said, his temper beginning to flare.

“And all I'd ask is that you notify me if you choose to leave,” Larrabee said calmly.

Jake started to say something, but I reached out and touched his arm.

“We'll let you know if our plans change, Sheriff,” I answered.

Larrabee nodded. “Thank you,” he said. He glanced at the crime scene, then back at us. “One last question for you folks. Anything I need to know about?”

I stared at him blankly.

“I'll have to run backgrounds on both of you, just because it's standard procedure,” the sheriff said. “Anything you want to make me aware of now so it saves us time later on?”

I looked at Jake, who was already doing that thing where he pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he wanted nothing more than to disappear into thin air.

“Well, you might say we're experienced,” I said slowly. “Because this isn't our first time discovering a dead body.”