Текст книги "A Treasure to Die For"

Автор книги: Richard Houston

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

“Jake, you won’t believe who called me,” she said before I had a chance to speak. I was more surprised she knew it was me on the line than I was by the excitement in her voice; she didn’t have caller ID.

“Alex Trebek?”

“No, silly. Why would he call me? It was Paula Morgan.”

“The reporter?”

“Yes. I’m so excited, I could pee my pants. She wants to interview me on television.”

“Be careful what you say, Bon. The police can use it against you.”

“That’s just it, Jake. Appleton left a suicide note in his truck. He confessed to killing Shelia.”

Bonnie was so wound up, I didn’t get many details. Our conversation went on for several more minutes without me learning much. However, she did invite me to dinner again; Patty had dropped by to celebrate with more food than they could possibly eat, and they wanted me to join them. Fred would be disappointed, but I begged off. I knew in my heart Appleton didn’t kill himself or Shelia, and my heart also knew I wouldn’t rest until I found the real killer. Not because of some altruistic sense of justice, but because whoever killed Appleton must have the two things that mean the most to me: Julie’s wedding ring, and the copy of Tom Sawyer she gave me.

Those thoughts no sooner crossed my mind when Fred came up to lie by my feet. “Make that three things, Freddie. How could I forget you?”

CHAPTER SIX

I missed Bonnie’s fifteen minutes of fame and our morning coffee the next two days. The job in Bailey demanded we get there early before the boss decided to replace me again. Bonnie met Paula Morgan at Three Sister’s Park Thursday, so they could film where Appleton killed himself and left the suicide note exonerating Bonnie.

It wasn’t until I got home, tired and dirty, that I was able to pick up my cell messages. Bonnie got a lot less than her fifteen minutes because Paula did most of the talking. She also wanted Fred and me to join her and watch the television interview. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. The physical labor had me exhausted, and all I wanted was a shower and some sleep. I would have sent her a text saying so, but I knew that would be rude. Bonnie doesn’t text.

“Can’t you record it, Bon,” I asked after making the obligatory call and begging off. “We’re so tired, well, at least I am. Fred slept most of the day when he wasn’t hunting varmints.”

She laughed. “You say the funniest things, Jake. Yes, I’ll record it. Now you get some sleep.”

***

By Friday afternoon, the job was finished, and once more I had some cash in my pocket. I thought I would stop off in Evergreen and get the pineapple pizza Bonnie liked so much, but got sidetracked when I noticed my Jeep was low on gas and stopped at the convenience store in Pine Junction. A fancy Mercedes SUV was pulling out as I pulled in. The car’s windows were too darkly tinted to see the driver, but I immediately thought of Bonnie’s mysterious SUV, the one that had driven by Appleton’s cabin last Wednesday.

The temptation to drive past Appleton’s cabin had been with me all week, so after buying a soda and lotto ticket, I gave the clerk twenty dollars and decided I’d drive by the cabin after pumping my gas.

Sometimes a person has to break the law, I told myself as I turned around to take the road to Appleton’s. Sure, I could file a report with the Park County Sheriff, and hope I would get Julie’s ring and book returned. I could have also just bought a winning lotto ticket. The odds of either were about the same. Of course, I had no guarantee I would find them in his cabin. After all, Bonnie and I had tried once with no success, so why did I think I would do any better this time?

Fred barked and woke me from my inner debate when we approached the cabin. Parked in the driveway was the Mercedes I had seen leaving the convenience store. Bonnie was right about it being expensive; people paid dearly for that circle with a three-pointed star I had saw as we drove by.

I was tempted to floor the Jeep and get away before we were spotted. Fortunately, I kept my cool, and neither sped up nor slowed down. Once I reached the bend in the road, I turned around and pulled over. My heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings. I couldn’t approach the cabin now, but I needed to know who was inside, and what was he doing in there. Instinct said to wait until whoever it was left the cabin; then I could either go in or follow the Mercedes. My second option seemed the safest choice, for it didn’t involve breaking any laws. I’m not a superstitious man, but it was Friday the thirteenth after all. Besides, I could always come back, but would probably never get another chance to find out who owned the expensive SUV.

We didn’t have long to wait. I no sooner had my phone out to call Bonnie when I remembered it didn’t work up here. Then Fred barked. I looked up from my phone in time to see the SUV race down the road toward 285. I managed to get a picture with my phone before starting my Jeep to give pursuit. Only the Jeep didn’t start. “What the,” I said, and then bit my tongue. I’m sure if Fred could talk, he would have finished for me because now he was barking non-stop.

“Hush, Fred. I need to hear the engine turn over.” He quit barking, and I tried again. The distinctive click of the solenoid told me it was the battery. There wasn’t enough juice to engage the starter.

Fred jumped out when I opened my door to check under the hood. “Stay!” I told him. “Don’t you even think about chasing after that car.” He actually obeyed, and got back into the Jeep. I’m sure if he thought there was any chance of catching the SUV, he would have ignored me.

The problem was simply a corroded battery cable. Luckily, my soda hadn’t spilled in all the excitement, so I poured some on the corrosion that resembled green mold. The reaction reminded me of my boyhood days when I’d add baking soda to vinegar. After the fizzing died down, I wiped everything clean and tried starting the Jeep again. I’d like to say it purred like a kitten, but it really sounded more like a tomcat courting a female in heat.

It was time to put Plan A in motion and go commit another felony, but before I could get back out to close the hood, a sheriff’s truck came down the road and stopped at my Jeep.

The deputy lowered his window. “Need a tow, sir?”

“Thanks, Officer,” I said, and slammed the hood closed. “Just a loose cable, but I appreciate the offer.”

He shut off his truck and picked up a microphone before I could get back in my Jeep. I froze. Could I be arrested for thinking about breaking and entering? “Negative on that ten-thirty-seven,” he said.

I had no idea what a ten-thirty-seven was and didn’t want to find out. “Well, take care of that beautiful dog,” he said, before closing his window and driving off.

Plan A went south along with Plan B. I couldn’t get away from Appleton’s fast enough.

***

“This is really good,” Bonnie said between bites of pizza. At least that’s what I thought she said. Her mandibles were still working on the thick crust as she tried to talk.

“Glad you like it, but are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a little dirt and gravel with it?”

She laughed then poured more honey on the crust.

The three of us were sitting at her kitchen table eating the pizza I finally got around to after the little side trip to Appleton’s cabin. Half the pizza was gone by the time I had told her about our adventure and the run-in with the Sherriff’s deputy who saved me and Fred from breaking into Appleton’s cabin.

“So what do you think, Bon? Is it the same SUV you saw?”

She seemed to be deciding on whether to answer my question or take another bite of the pizza crust. “I can’t tell from that picture, Jake. It’s too small, but I can tell you what a ten-thirty-seven is. Wait here while I get my scanner codes.” who saved me and Fred from breaking into Appleton’s cabin.

I knew she kept the codes by her scanner, and wasn’t surprised when she came back in less than a minute. Fred hardly had time to eat the crust of my pizza.

“Here it is,” she said, positioning her glasses on her nose and holding the paper at arm’s length. “Ten-thirty-seven, investigating suspicious vehicle. Someone must have reported you casing the joint.”

“I wasn’t there long enough. It must have been the SUV they reported, and the cop assumed it was me.”

Bonnie put the scanner codes on the table and helped herself to another slice of pizza. “That explains why he didn’t report us,” she said.

“You mean when he drove by while we were trying to erase our fingerprints?”

“Of course, silly. What did you think I meant?”

She didn’t wait for my answer, and went on talking. “He must have been waiting for us to leave, so he could break in.”

“Which also means he doesn’t live around there, or the neighbors wouldn’t have called in a suspicious vehicle,” I said, before being interrupted by Fred’s ‘feed me bark’. I tore off a piece of crust and threw it to him.

Bonnie looked a little hurt as she watched Fred devour his treat. “That’s the best part, Jake.”

She didn’t have to explain. Julie had loved the crust too. It’s why I always ordered thick-crust pizzas, for though I only cared for the center, Julie loved the taste of honey-coated pizza crust. “Sorry, Bon. I should have asked you first.”

“Not for me, silly. You’re missing the best part, and besides, that much people food can’t be good for him.”

I turned back to Fred who was watching my pizza like it was a cat. “What do you think, boy? Would you rather have dog food?”

He answered with another short bark, but this time I didn’t feed him. “Speaking of people food, does Patty drive a Mercedes?”

Bonnie stared at me blankly.

“The food she brought you Wednesday night to celebrate not being a suspect anymore,” I said, trying to explain how Patty had popped into my mind. “How well do you know her?”

A smile replaced the blank expression making her wrinkles less visible. “Like my own sister. I met her when I was going to CU and now I see her every Sunday at church. Why do you ask?”

“Watching Fred devour that pizza reminded me of turning down her home cooking. How come she knows so much about Mark Twain?”

“She worked at her daddy’s bookstore in Boulder for years. He specialized in old and rare books so I guess she picked it up from him. That’s where we first met. I would spend a lot of time browsing the old books after classes. Something you can’t do much now that eBooks have put most of those stores out of business.”

“Sorry, Bon, but if not for those eBooks, Fred and I would be eating squirrel.”

Bonnie smiled at my remark then went back to her story. She had the faraway look in her eyes I used to see in my parents when they talked about the good old days. “She inherited the store when her father passed but had to close it several years ago. Surely you don’t think she had anything to do with all this?”

“No, of course not. It was that thing about her telling Shelia she had one of the pirate copies. I guess she must have seen a chance to sell one of her father’s old books. I’m really grasping at straws, Bon. I’m pretty sure Craig Renfield had something to do with Shelia’s demise and probably killed Appleton too.”

Bonnie looked horrified. “Are you saying Appleton didn’t kill Shelia? I thought you gave up on that theory when he confessed. I hope you don’t tell anyone else that. I’ll be their prime suspect again.”

“Mum’s the word, Bon. Unless Fred tells someone, this won’t leave the room; not that the cops would take me seriously.”

She seemed to consider what I’d said for a moment before speaking again. “But some smart cop might come to the same conclusion. What if they do one of those tests on the suicide note like you see on TV all the time? If you’re right, and someone forged the note after killing Appleton, they’ll be back to looking for who really killed Shelia.”

“I assume you’re referring to a handwriting analysis. They don’t have a reason to think otherwise, so I doubt they would bother. But we know better. There’s no way he killed himself, and whoever killed Appleton wasn’t working alone.”

She didn’t have to ask what I meant, her blank stare said it for her. The conversation had obviously taken a turn in the wrong direction. I could see she was getting upset. It was time to leave.

“The blood on his deck, Bon,” I said, before wiping my mouth with a napkin, and standing. “I think Appleton was killed at his cabin then taken to Three Sisters where the murderer forged a suicide note.”

Fred had been waiting patiently for more table scraps and must have sensed I was leaving. He left my side of the table and went over to beg from Bonnie.

Bonnie unconsciously fed him some of her crust before closing the pizza box. “And why do you think he had an accomplice?” she asked.

“Someone had to give the murderer a ride after parking Appleton’s truck at the park,” I said, waiting for Fred to join me.

She finally seemed to follow my reasoning. “So Craig killed Appleton at his cabin, then drove his truck to Three Sisters, wrote the note, and was picked up by someone. Have you figured out who that was, too?”

Fred didn’t move from the table, where he watched Bonnie and the pizza.

“No, and I really don’t care unless they have Julie’s book and ring. I have no intention of bringing Appleton’s killer to justice; that’s a job for the police. All I want is to get Julie’s property back. In the meantime, I’ve got to get back to the how-to book I’ve been writing, unless you have a better idea.”

She silently handed me the pizza box. “What about the treasure? I’m sure if you put that great mind of yours on it, you could decode that riddle without even thinking about it.”

I smiled at her unwitting contradiction. “I have thought about it, and came to the conclusion it’s a hoax so Paul Wilson can sell more books. There is no lost gold, Bon.”

Bonnie looked at me smugly, the way a child does when arguing with a parent. “Not according to Patty. She said she knew about it long before Wilson found the newspaper article. She remembers her father telling stories about how it was a big thing back in the twenties. Wilson didn’t make that up.”

***

Fred and I finished off the pizza somewhere around two in the morning. I couldn’t concentrate on my chapter dealing with the importance of proper attic ventilation, so we had a cold snack before returning to my computer. I’d convinced myself that Julie would understand if she was watching. It was only one slice.

Bonnie’s remark about Patty kept getting in the way, or maybe it was the thought of how much two hundred pounds of gold would be worth in today’s market. If Appleton had decoded the original code, then what did the decoded message mean?

The words ‘Blood sucking bug pass’ were staring at me from Appleton’s notebook paper. My how-to book had given way to finding the message and spending the last hour trying to solve the riddle. I even went so far as searching the Rocky Mountain News archives to find a copy of the original article, but got sidetracked about an article on a preacher who had crossed Mosquito Pass in snowshoes during the winter.

Father Dyer had become a legend for preaching to the mostly deaf ears of miners about the sins of gambling, drinking, and prostitution. My interest piqued when I read an article where he nearly died from a trip over Mosquito Pass in the winter when his feet froze during a bitter-cold snowstorm.

That’s when it hit me. Pass referred to a mountain pass. If Drake was on his way to Leadville it had to be Mosquito Pass, a bloodsucking bug pass.

My first thought was to call Bonnie back and brag about unraveling the enigma. Then I had a flash image of someone listening to our phone messages. Now I knew how treasure hunting could lead to paranoia, and chided myself for being bit by gold fever. I decided to tell her tomorrow during coffee instead of calling, just to play it safe in case the NSA was listening.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Fred saved Bonnie from having to clean her kitchen floor when he ate the scrambled eggs she’d dropped after I told her about discovering the location of Drake’s gold. “What are we waiting for, Jake? We need to get up there before someone else does!”

I should have waited until after breakfast before telling her. She didn’t seem to notice the plate was empty when she set it in front of me. “What’s this, we? Margot would have my scalp if I ever took you to the top of that pass. Do you have any idea what the lack of oxygen at that altitude can do to a chain smoker?”

She looked over at a pack of cigarettes on the table then picked it up. “I can go without you, you know,” she said while tapping the pack to make a filter tip appear.

Not wanting another argument like we had the other day when she had insisted on going to Appleton’s cabin, I tried to change the subject. “Not on an empty stomach, Bon. Besides, I think I should verify the code from another copy of Tom Sawyer before going off half-cocked,” I said, pointing to my plate.

She took one look at my plate and then looked down at Fred, who was patiently sitting at her side waiting for more eggs. “What’s there to verify?” she asked, patting him on the head and smiling. “What else can blood sucking pass mean? Any school kid can see that. If we don’t get our butts up there right away, someone else is going to beat us to the treasure.”

I got up from the table with my empty plate and went over to the counter by her range. “We’re the only ones besides Appleton who knows the deciphered code, and I doubt if he’s going up there anytime soon.” I knew the only way I was going to get breakfast was to make it myself, so I started cracking more eggs into Bonnie’s mixing bowl.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because he’s dead, Bon.”

“Not, Appleton! Jeeze, Louise, don’t be so dense. How can you be so sure someone else hasn’t decoded the message already? That author, what’s his name, didn’t strike me as no dummy, and then there’s those punk kids.”

“Paul Wilson. I suppose it’s possible now that you mention it. He must have known about Father Dyer. Good thing he didn’t have the key, or I’m sure he would have figured it out by now. But I don’t see how those kids could solve a Ranger Rick crossword puzzle, let alone decode Drake’s message.”

“The key? Oh I get it, the right book is the key.”

I picked out another egg and cracked it on the side of the bowl. “Do you want two or three?”

Bonnie quit playing with her cigarettes and came over to the range. “Just two, and get yourself more coffee while I cook these. Then we’re going up there together, whether you like it or not.”

“Okay, Bon, you win. But we take my Jeep this time.” I knew if I didn’t give in, she would go without me.

***

We were lost, and my Jeep was hissing at us for lack of water by the time we made it to Fairplay.

“Stay on highway two eighty-five for point five more miles, then turn right on highway nine and proceed toward Breckinridge.” Lucy, the name Julie had given my GPS because it was always sending us in the wrong direction, was trying to make herself heard over the knocking of the engine. Julie had said the GPS reminded her of Lucille Ball in the old movie The Long Long Trailer because that Lucy was always sending Ricky in the wrong direction, too.

I didn’t have a clue where to find the pass between Fairplay and Leadville, but couldn’t let on to Bonnie that I was lost, so I told Lucy what I thought of her directions and unplugged her to shut her up.

Bonnie interrupted my discourse with Lucy when she spotted an old-fashioned gas station. “They might have water, Jake, and I’m sure someone can tell you how to get to Mosquito Pass.”

“I’m afraid those service stations went out with black-and-white TV,” I said, but pulled in anyway. To my amazement, it did have a water spigot and air hose at the end of the island. I also noticed the pumps didn’t take credit cards. I felt like we must have entered a time-warp.

Fred barked and started pacing back and forth on the rear seat.

“Do you mind taking him over there while I give the old Jeep a drink?” I asked, pointing to a patch of grass on the side of the station.

They weren’t gone two minutes when a real, live attendant came out from the service bay after I had the hood open. I’d expected to see Goober from the Andy Griffith Show, but this guy was the complete opposite. He could have been Appleton’s twin, except his tattoos were barely recognizable underneath the grease and oil on his arms.

“Be careful there, buddy,” he said. “Better use my rag on that cap, so she don’t scald you when you open it.” He wiped his hands on the rag before offering it to me. I couldn’t help notice it made his hands dirtier.

“Thanks, but it’ll be okay once I let the pressure off,” I said, turning the cap a quarter turn so it would release the pressure but not fly off.

He smiled and nodded his head when steam and water came rushing out the overflow tube onto the ground. “Well, looks like you know what you’re doing so I’ll get out of your hair. Let me know if you need anything else,” he said before heading back to his service bay.

“We could use some directions to Mosquito Pass,” Bonnie said. She had returned with Fred when my head was under the hood.

The attendant stopped in his tracks, and turned around. “If I could get a dollar for everyone who’s asked that question, ma’am, I’d be a millionaire,” he said as he walked back toward us.

“I should print me a map and start selling them. It’d be a great way to advertise my towing business. You wouldn’t believe how many people try to make it over that pass without four-wheel drive. But you shouldn’t have any problem with this old baby. You got one of the true four-wheel drives with that old Quadra-Trac. You could climb Mount Everest with that thing.”

“Maybe Pike’s Peak, once I get this radiator fixed,” I said, pointing to a small leak, spitting more steam than water. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find anyone who repairs the old copper cores anymore.”

He took a card from his pocket and handed it to me. “My name’s Rick, I’d be happy to order you a new plastic core, but I don’t suppose you’d want to wait for it.”

“No, it’s not that bad. Not yet.”

“Well, call me from your cell if you run out of water up there. I’m the local tow service for Triple A and several others.”

Bonnie saw her chance to cut in. “Cell phones work up there? Maybe you can get directions from that fancy phone of yours, Jake, seeing as you’re too busy jawing to get directions.”

Rick flashed several rotten teeth when he smiled at Bonnie’s remark. “Yes, ma’am. We got several towers on the top of the mountain. Covers most of Leadville and even reaches Breckenridge. I expect to get a call from some kids who were here this morning anytime now. Darn fools were driving a Datsun pickup.”

“Did they have tattoos and weird hair?” I asked, watching him take a pinch of tobacco from a can that seemed to appear from nowhere.

“How’d you know?”

“I saw one of those trucks just last week, driven by some kids who were at a book signing, and they didn’t strike me as kids who read much. I remember it because my dad gave me a truck just like it on my sixteenth birthday,” I said, removing the radiator cap and reaching for the water hose.

Rick turned his head and spit before wiping a greasy hand on his coveralls. “Ah, was afraid they was friends of yours.” Then he turned toward Bonnie. “As for those directions, ma’am, just keep going north on nine and you’ll see a road on the left, just before Alma, called Mosquito Gulch Road. If you get to Alma, you missed it, and gone too far.”

He took another pinch of tobacco and put it under his tongue. “I gotta get back to the oil change I was working on, but look out for those fools. Don’t like to see nobody get hurt up there.”

“Sure, and thanks for your help,” I said as I got into my Jeep. “That old Datsun won’t be hard to miss.”

Bonnie paused before letting Fred into the Jeep so she could wave bye to Rick. Then, almost immediately, she covered her mouth instead. Rick had chosen that particular moment to spit tobacco juice on the ground.

***

Rick’s comment about the punk kids kept nagging at me on our ascent up Mosquito Gulch Road. Had they found a way to decipher the code, too? My thoughts were interrupted when we came to a fork in the road. “Did Rick say which way to turn?” I asked my new navigator. I’d turned Lucy off shortly after leaving the gas station.

Bonnie had recovered from the spitting incident, and was studying a road map she found in my glove box. “No, and this map is worthless. I can’t even find the road we’re on.”

I pointed to a handmade sign for Leadville pointing to the right. “No problem, Ms. Yossarian. I asked too soon.”

Bonnie looked up from the map she was trying to fold back together. “Don’t think I don’t know who you meant, Mr. Smarty Pants. I was teaching literature before you were born. Catch 22 was one of my favorites.”

My mind had already gone on to the road ahead and so I didn’t answer her. What little research I had done on the trail before leaving home said not to attempt the road into Leadville. It was narrow, with switchbacks that clung to the side of the mountain. One slip and it was two thousand feet straight down. I had no plans on going that far, or Bonnie would indeed wet her pants if she should look out the window. But we were safe for now. The path was rocky and getting steeper, with mountains on both sides and no sign of any precipitous drop-offs, so I didn’t mention the danger ahead.

After another two miles, the road forked left with another sign saying we had reached 11,500 feet, and from this point on it was four-wheel drive only. My old Jeep must not have liked the altitude, because it began to overheat again, letting out a cloud of steam from under the hood.

“My God, Jake, are we on fire!” Bonnie had her hand on the door latch and was ready to make a quick exit.

“Just a little steam, Bon.”

Fred barked his two cents from the back seat, so I stopped the Jeep before I had a mutiny.

“Okay, everyone out. Let’s look around while old Betsy cools off.”

Unlike when we stopped earlier, this time the engine was really hot. I knew better than to pour what little water I carried into a boiling radiator; not only would it be a waste of water, but the possibility of cracking an engine block or head was too great.

Bonnie must have been confident the Jeep wasn’t on fire, and poked her head under the open hood. “We won’t get stuck up here, I hope.”

“No, but we should turn back after it cools down. It gets really cold once the sun goes down at this altitude.”

“But we just got here, Jake. Can’t you do something to get it going sooner?”

Fred had been sitting, watching, and listening to us talk. Then, for no apparent reason, he barked, and ran to a nearby snowdrift. Summer snow storms and drifts were not uncommon at this elevation. It made me check the sky. The last thing I needed was to be caught in a thunderstorm. Lightning kills more people in the high country than avalanches do in the winter.

“I don’t have to, Bon. Fred just found a way to cool off the radiator for us.”

She gave me her blank look again.

“The snow, Bon. We can use it to cool the radiator.”

“Won’t that crack the block or something?”

“I won’t put it on the engine, just the radiator. If we cool the radiator off, it should help cool off the engine faster.”

Fred was already rolling in the snow before I got there, and came running back to me with a mouth full of it when he saw me. I don’t think he had read my mind about putting snow on the radiator, so I guessed he wanted to play. I reached down to thank him with a pat on the head and realized the snow was red.

“Did Fred cut himself?” Bonnie asked when she caught up with us.

I knew it wasn’t blood from its oily feel. “No, someone has a transmission leak.”

“And how could you possibly know that, Sherlock?”

“Engine oil would be black; this came from an automatic. It looks like they were parked here for a while before turning back.”

Bonnie went over to where Fred had been, reached down to check for herself, then looked up at me like I’d just answered a million dollar question on a quiz show. “How do you know that stuff? And what makes you think they didn’t go on to Leadville?”

“Look at the trail of transmission fluid going back toward Fairplay. The spots get smaller and further apart before disappearing altogether.”

She held her hand flat across her brow. It must have been more out of habit than necessity for the sun was already behind her. “So, what does that prove?”

“If they continued on to Leadville, there would be fluid going that way too.”

She considered my logic for a moment then changed the subject. “Do you think it was those kids?”

“Not unless someone put an automatic from a Nissan in their truck. I don’t think the early Datsuns came with anything but a stick. Mine had a four speed which was a pain in the butt for a kid learning to drive.”

Fred dropped his mouthful of snow at my feet and barked. It was a game we played in the winter, so I scooped it up and made a snowball. He knew how far I’d throw it and was already headed for the spot when I let it sail. It gave me time to fill my baseball cap with a load of the white stuff and head back toward the Jeep. Bonnie followed with her headscarf full of snow, looking like a bag lady that had run out of shopping bags.

I didn’t see the footprints leading away from the road until my second trip back to the snowdrift.