Текст книги "A Treasure to Die For"

Автор книги: Richard Houston

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

This time I didn’t stop at the service station in Fairplay. I didn’t need the nosy owner calling his brother-in-law, Deputy White, to alert him of my presence. But I did need to check out who was following us, so I waited until I passed the station before pulling over to the side of the road.

My paranoia told me it was Craig Renfield. The car had been too far away to tell for sure, but I was pretty sure it was his beat-up Toyota. The driver pulled into the gas station but didn’t get out to pump gas. He must have been surprised when White’s brother-in-law came out to do it for him. I wasted no time in getting back on the road before he could follow us again.

***

I seemed to have lost the car by the time I turned onto Mosquito Gulch Road. Not that it would matter; the old Toyota couldn’t possibly make it up the pass.

Several ATVs and dirt bikes raced by me belching blue smoke from their two-cycle motors and spraying my windshield with rocks and dirt as I approached the spot where Bonnie and I had parked the last time we were here. There was some kind of off-road rally going on, or school must have let out for summer vacation. Either way, it was impossible to park on the road because of the traffic, so I put the old Wagoneer in four-wheel drive and left the road, heading for the mine.

Nobody seemed to notice our ascent up the side of the hill, for no one bothered to follow us. Perhaps the slope was too steep for them, but more likely they couldn’t see me past the clouds of dust they were creating.

The ground leveled off into what was once a mule trail just below the mine where a huge pile of tailings was created by some poor soul who had dug it out so many years ago. From there the trail went up the hill another hundred feet or so by cutting switchbacks into the side of the mountain until it wound its way to the top of the tailings. It was far too steep and narrow for my Jeep, so I parked, and would have to walk the rest of the way. Fred was out of the Jeep and sniffing the ground the minute I opened the door. The scent led him up the trail and out of my sight.

He couldn’t know the floor inside the mine had collapsed, sending Cory and Jennifer to their deaths. I didn’t want the same thing happening to my best friend, and ran after him.

I was gasping for air when I made it to the top, but found the breath to call him. “Fred! Get back here this instant.”

His head poked out of a dark hole in the side of the mountain.

“Come here, boy,” I pleaded, bending down to his level. To my relief, he ran toward me, and planted a big, wet kiss on my face.

“Can you be a good boy and stay out here while I check on that mine?” I asked, once I wiped off my face.

Fred sat on his haunches and barked. “Good, boy. Now, stay,” I said, and headed toward the entrance.

The yellow police tape stretched across the opening didn’t stop me; I was just glad it couldn’t be seen from the road where someone might see me breaking the law. I turned on my flashlight, stepped inside, and crept toward what used to be an old wood floor. Now it was just a hole in the ground with slivers of decaying wood around the perimeter that resembled rotten teeth waiting to devour their next victim. It looked like the mouth of the three-headed dog guarding the gates of Hell I had seen in a Greek Mythology class. I was trying to recall the creature’s name when Fred came up behind me, nearly making me drop my flashlight.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay outside?” I asked, grasping my chest. “Do I need to tie you to the Jeep?”

Fred barked, ran back toward the entrance, then turned around to look at me, and barked again. The hair along his spine looked like porcupine quills.

I hurried back to the entrance and grabbed his collar when he started to growl. “What is it, boy? Is someone out there?”

Fred acted like he’d seen a Yeti and wanted to eat him for lunch. I couldn’t see any snowmen or anyone else, so I went to the edge of the tailing pile for a better look. I began to wish I’d brought binoculars. Maybe Fred could see something I couldn’t. The four-wheelers had moved on, along with their dust, but there was someone parked on the road. A chill ran up my spine when I thought I recognized the car that had been following us earlier. It had to be my overactive imagination, for I knew there was no way a two-wheel-drive sedan with only inches of ground clearance could have come this far. It was probably a vehicle belonging to one of the off-roaders or some hikers. I finally convinced myself that was what Fred must have heard, and went back to the mine.

For some stupid reason, the name Cerberus popped into my head when I saw the splintered floor again. It was the name of the dog guarding Hades I couldn’t remember earlier. The shaft consisted of a series of platforms with a ladder between each level. The rescue workers didn’t risk the danger of going below the level where they found the kids. It was a wonder the second platform didn’t collapse from the impact of their fall.

Paul Wilson said the pack had fallen to a lower level. Only a fool would have gone any further, and while I never claimed to be a genius, I had a trump card most fools didn’t. My Jeep had a winch with two hundred feet of cable I could use to lower myself into the pit. There was no question in my mind about retrieving the backpack. All I had to do was get the Jeep up to the mine without killing myself.

I let Fred play sentry, watching for Yeti, while I climbed back down to my Jeep and prepared to climb the pile of tailings. Going up the mule trail was out of the question because of the narrow switchbacks. The Jeep could never make those turns without tumbling sideways. The only option was to make it climb straight up the tailing pile and over the top. The ancient Jeep had manual lock-out hubs and a little switch in the glove compartment that would make all four wheels spin when needed. Unlike modern four-by-fours, where only one wheel per axle worked, the old Quadra-track’s used all their wheels.

No sooner had I started my ascent than I felt the Jeep going sideways. I began to wish I had used the winch to pull it to the top instead, but it was too late. Rocks and gravel were flying everywhere, and I was within seconds of the Jeep rolling down the hill and squashing me like the bug this place was named for.

My first instinct was to let up on the gas, but I knew that would be suicide, so I turned the wheel in the opposite direction of the slide, and floored the gas pedal. The tires bit into the gravel and propelled the Jeep to the top, like I knew what I was doing. Fred was a lot smarter than his master and had stayed behind to watch the show from a safe distance.

All of a sudden I heard hooting, horns, and whistling. The off-road riders had returned and stopped to watch the idiot in his old Jeep try to kill himself. The last thing I needed now was for one of them to leave the road and come up to join us. I didn’t worry about another four-wheeler trying it, but motorcycles were something else. I knew if we stayed here, it would be only minutes before one of the dirt-bike riders came to see if we needed help, so I summoned Fred into the Jeep, and pretended to leave.

The mule trail lead away from the mine and on toward Leadville, so I put the Jeep back into regular four-wheel drive, and acted like climbing the tailing had simply been to gain access to the trail. I didn’t have to go far before we were out of sight from the riders below where I stopped the Jeep and waited.

Fred jumped out and ran over to some rocks. The trail had been cut through an ancient landslide and there were rocks and boulders on both sides of it. I saw a creature scoot from under one pile and run for cover under another. It looked like a marmot, but Fred must have thought it was Chatter. I was so intent on watching the show that I nearly jumped out of my skin when my cell phone went off.

“Jake?” It was a voice I knew well.

“Bonnie! How are you?”

“Where have you been, Jake? I’ve been trying to get you all day.”

“I’m up on Mosquito Pass. Reception up here is pretty bad. I’m surprised you got me now.”

“What are you doing up there?”

“Enjoying the view while Fred chases Chatter’s cousin. You should see it, Bon. I found a little mule trail that must have been cut into the mountain by whoever dug the mine. I can see all the way to Leadville from here.”

“Are you crazy, Jake? Two people already lost their lives in there. Please don’t make it three.”

“It’s already three, don’t forget Drake. He was the first.”

When she didn’t respond quickly enough, I knew without the benefit of seeing her face that she didn’t like my wise-aleck reply. “Sorry, Bon Bon. I appreciate your concern, but Wilson thinks the kids had Julie’s copy of Tom Sawyer and I’ve got to get it back.”

“Please don’t go in there, Jake.”

“It okay, I’ll lower myself with my winch so there’s no danger of falling. Now tell me why you called. Are you okay?”

“I called to see if you wouldn’t mind coming to get me. Margot is driving me crazy. She won’t let me smoke, and doesn’t have a drop of booze anywhere.”

I laughed. “Is she there, Bon? I’d like to talk to her.”

Bonnie hesitated. Was I that transparent? “She’s not my mother, Jake. You don’t need her permission.”

“Sorry, Bon.”

“For your information, I’ve never felt better. The physical therapist can come to my home in Evergreen, just as she does here. I’ve already ordered a treadmill. All you have to do is pick it up for me on the way home.”

“Okay, Bon. Is tomorrow morning okay? Wherever you bought the treadmill will be closed by the time I get there tonight.” I knew Margot wouldn’t let her leave if she wasn’t all right.

“Tomorrow is fine if you promise not to go in that mine until I’m there. Otherwise, I’m calling Deputy White and tell him you’re up there.”

“You win, Bon. It’s getting too dark anyway. See you first thing tomorrow.” I didn’t like lying to her, but the last thing I needed right then was to have White know I was up there.

***

The sun was setting behind the snow-covered mountains on the west side of Leadville by the time I got off the phone with Bonnie. If memory served me right, those were Colorado’s two tallest peaks: Mount Elbert and Mount Massive. It would be dark soon and I needed to get back to work, but I had to capture the moment by taking a picture with my cell phone. The sun was moving so fast on the city below, it looked like one of those time-lapse movies on TV.

“Stand there a minute, Fred, so I can get your picture,” I said when he came running back.

He stopped long enough for me to capture a shot I was sure would go viral on YouTube. He could have been the poster boy for Bark magazine. His head was blocking out the sun, making it look like he had a halo.

***

The off-roaders and the mystery car were gone from the road below when we got back to the mine, reminding me of what little time I had before it got too dark to see, so I positioned the Jeep as close to the mine as I could and started playing out the cable. The surface there was flat and level. The only obstruction was the remains of tracks from an old ore cart that must have been used to haul debris from the mine, creating the pile of tailings I drove up earlier.

“Stay here and let me know if we get any visitors, Fred,” I said as I lowered myself down the shaft. I had thought about locking him in the Jeep, but knew my cell phone would be worthless inside the mine. He was all I had to go get help if something went wrong.

The cable slowly lowered me to where Cory and Jennifer had fallen to their deaths. It made me sad when I thought of her poetry, and the love she showed for her unborn child. I stopped long enough to say a prayer, and waited until there was enough slack to allow me some movement before pushing the stop button on the winch’s remote. I wasn’t foolish enough to let go of my lifeline. The light from above had disappeared once the sun had set behind Mount Elbert, and it was still too early for the moon to shine its feeble beam into the mine. I turned on my flashlight and prayed the battery didn’t quit on me.

I made a quick scan of my surroundings then shined the light on the platform below, and saw the backpack. With one more look above and a couple Hail Marys, I crept over the side of the entrance to Hades. Fred was watching me from above, and the reflection I saw in his eyes reminded me once more of Cerberus guarding the gates of Hell. I removed the slack from the cable, and pushed the button to lower me down.

I was less than four feet from the backpack when my flashlight went dead. Then the winch jammed. Was someone up there? No, Fred would have barked if there was. It had to be Murphy and the luck of the Irish. I had wound the cable around my waist and secured my foot in a small loop at the bottom where a hook was attached to the end of the cable. I let the cable spin me around, freeing me from its grasp, and then pulled myself up enough to free my foot before lowering myself to the floor below. Still holding on to my lifeline, I tentatively put my weight on the platform, testing to see if it would collapse on me like the floor above had on the kids. It seemed to be solid enough to hold my two hundred pounds.

With one hand free of the cable, I smacked the flashlight against my thigh and said another prayer. I really wanted to swear, but knew my guardian angel might take offense. She must have liked what she heard, for the flashlight flickered back to life.

The backpack was within reach so I grabbed it, put its straps around my arms, and started climbing up the cable. The cable wasn’t much different than the rope we had been required to climb so many years ago in gym class. I hadn’t forgotten how to use my feet, hands, and arms to slowly inch my way to the top. But it was much thinner than those old ropes, which made it far more difficult to climb. Nor did those old ropes hurt nearly as badly as the wire fibers that cut into my hands when I grasped a frayed strand.

I finally emerged from the dark pit with bloody hands and more fatigued than if I had run a marathon. The altitude and the extra weight I’d put on lately had taken its toll. I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was lie down to catch my breath, but something was wrong. Fred should have been there waiting for me. I had been holding the flashlight in my mouth, so I grasped it with my right hand, because of the metal slivers in my left, and scanned my surroundings, looking for my dog. Then everything went dark.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Julie was wiping my forehead with a wet cloth and kissing me at the same time. “Wake up, Jake, or you’ll freeze up here. Please, honey, please wake up.”

I slowly opened my eyes, “Julie! Is it really you?”

She barked then wiped my face some more.

“Fred!” I shouted when I started to come to. “Where’s Julie?” Then I realized I’d been dreaming, and felt a terrible pain in my arm and the back of my head.

I sat up and reached for Fred, but yelled when the pain shot down my arm from the shoulder. Fred backed away for a moment then came back with his tail between his legs.

“What happened, boy? God, I wish you could talk. Did you get hit too?” I looked around to see if we were alone. I couldn’t have been unconscious for long, for it was still dark with no hint of a rising sun shining its light into the mine. If not for my flashlight still burning, we would have been in total darkness.

Holding my sore shoulder with my right hand, I reached for the light with my left. It only seemed to hurt if I lifted my arm too high, which I did, and yelled again. Actually, it was more of a whimper because I didn’t scare Fred this time. “Can you get the flashlight, Freddie?”

He barked then licked me some more. It had been worth a try even though I really didn’t think he’d understand. Then it hit me why my arm was hurting. The backpack was gone. Whoever took it must have torn the straps off my arms and nearly taken my arm with it. That narrowed it down to someone quite strong, so I could rule out the little old lady who broke into Bonnie’s.

Fred wasn’t going to get the flashlight for me and it wasn’t going to come to me no matter how much I pleaded, so I reached out for it with my good arm. To my surprise, Fred went over and picked it up before I could. I’m sure he thought it was some kind of stick.

“Good, boy,” I said when he brought it back to me. I reached out to rub his neck before taking the flashlight from him and felt something sticky.

“What’s this, Freddie?” I asked, shining the light on his neck. His entire neck and face were covered with an oily orange substance.

Fred let out a cry and backed away from me when I shined the light in his eyes. “It’s okay, Freddie,” I said ever so softly after noticing his eyes were red and puffy. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”

He looked at me with the saddest eyes I’ve seen outside a seal exhibit.

I went back to my examination of Fred then realized why my eyes were watering. No wonder he didn’t sound the alarm before I was knocked out; someone had pepper sprayed him.

***

Bonnie wasn’t the least bit upset when I called her early Wednesday morning to tell her we would be late picking her up from her sister’s. “It’s okay, Jake. Margot is taking me shopping at the Cherry Creek Mall, and I was going to call you anyway.” She didn’t ask why I would be late and I didn’t offer an excuse.

“Why don’t you wait a couple days before coming to get me? We’re going to the Botanic Gardens tomorrow and maybe the museum. I’d forgotten how much there is to do down here. Oh, I almost forgot. Could I ask you for a big favor?”

“Sure, Bon.” I tried not to sound too relieved.

“Would you mind picking up my mail for me? Margot’s been telling me how I shouldn’t leave it sitting out on the road because anyone can steal my identity now-a-days.” She was referring to how our mailboxes were half a mile from our homes, stuck down on Upper Bear Creek Road, where anyone could help themselves.

“No problem, Bon. Just call me when you’re ready to come home.” I knew it might be sooner than later for it was a rare week when she and Margot didn’t end up fighting about something. But it should be enough time, without Bonnie tagging along, for me to find Craig Renfield and make him pay for nearly breaking my arm and pepper spraying my dog. It didn’t take a PI license to know who owned the old Toyota up on Mosquito Pass.

***

This time I didn’t park in Casa Bonita’s lot, and drove straight to Renfield’s house on Saulsbury. Like Cory and Jennifer’s house two doors down, it had seen better days. I could see several shingles missing and the paint on its clapboard siding was faded and peeling. Several of the single-pane windows were broken and their screens ripped so they looked like miniature flags flapping in the wind.

Fred followed me to the front door where I had to knock because the doorbell button was hanging by a single wire, and clearly not working. I could feel my rage building and, fantasized about blowing his head off with my shotgun. That wasn’t going to happen because I didn’t bring it, but I quickly improvised and imagined myself punching him in the face then knocking him to the ground where I’d stomp on his head until he stopped breathing. He had to be fifty pounds lighter and four inches shorter than me, so I’m sure I’d come out ahead if this didn’t go well, even though I was ten years older.

“Well, if it isn’t Timmy and Lassie. What are you two doing here?” Craig asked when he answered his door, holding a baseball bat in his hand.

I checked my anger at the site of his weapon. “Do you mind telling me where you were yesterday?”

“I asked first,” he said. His upper lip rose a couple millimeters. I’d seen Fred do the same before going after Chatter.

His remark caught me off guard. I hadn’t heard a response like that since grade school. We lost eye contact when I saw movement in his kitchen. “Someone hit me over the head and pepper sprayed my dog yesterday,” I said, looking past him into the house. “Someone driving a beat-up Toyota like yours.”

His lip uncurled into a slight smile. “I traded that piece of junk off last week,” he said, nodding in the direction of his driveway. A late model SUV was parked in a detached garage at the back of his lot.

“What happen? You lose a muffler on Mosquito Pass?”

His smirk disappeared faster than my last paycheck. “You’re a real smartass, aren’t you?” he said, and shut the door in my face.

If not for Fred yelping when I pulled too tightly on his collar, I might have kicked in Craig’s door. I hadn’t been this upset since Junior High when the class bully pulled down my gym shorts in front of a cute cheerleader. Fred left my side when I let him go, and ran back toward the Jeep. I quickly followed him for fear he might run into the street.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you, Freddie?” He was sitting on his haunches next to my Jeep when I caught up to him.

He didn’t answer, of course, but he did smile as we drove away.

***

I called Paul Wilson as soon as we got home. It was a call I should have made sooner, but I had been too mad to think clearly. Now that I realized it probably wasn’t Craig’s Toyota I had seen on the pass, I needed to face up to the fact that I’d have to give Wilson his money back. He seemed to be one of those people who never answer, so I left a message to call me back, and went to bed.

I couldn’t sleep, thinking of the incident on the pass while watching the minutes flip by on my alarm clock like the scores of a baseball game in an old movie. The clock was a relic from the seventies, the kind where the numbers were printed on four mechanical wheels that turned when the time changed. If it wasn’t Craig’s Toyota I had seen, then who was it that stole the backpack, and why? Why did they wait for me to retrieve it instead of going after it themselves? All four wheels where turning to display the number ten when Wilson returned my call.

“You’re telling me you found the backpack, and then someone hit you over the head, and nearly broke your arm taking it from you?” He sounded very upset, so I expected he’d want his money back.

“Right after pepper spraying my dog.”

“Pepper spray?”

“I think so. I’ve been doing some research while waiting for your call, and it seems anyone can buy that stuff.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s okay now. I gave him a good bath when we got home, but I doubt if he’ll ever eat scrambled eggs with hot sauce again.”

I cleared my throat before asking the next question. “How well do you know Craig Renfield?”

“Not at all, why?”

“I thought I saw his car up there just before I was knocked out. He says he traded it off last week, but I only have his word for that, so he’s still my number one suspect. What I can’t fathom is why he wanted the backpack so badly, and for that matter, how he knew it was there.”

Wilson didn’t answer. I was beginning to think he didn’t realize I had asked a question and was ready to speak again when he beat me to it. “Well, I did tell him I would be willing to pay dearly for his copy of Tom Sawyer if he ever recovered it.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know him.”

“I don’t. It was at the signing when I asked him. I told him I’d pay a nice finder’s fee if he could get the kids to sell me theirs.” Then he paused again. I was beginning to realize he was the kind to choose his words carefully. “You’ve got to get that backpack from him, Jake. I’ll pay whatever you ask.”

“What is in there, Paul?”

“Why don’t you meet me at that pizza place down the road from you, say tomorrow at noon, and I’ll fill you in?”

Wilson hung up before I could object.