Bitter Past, page 8
“When it’s pushing ninety degrees? Iced, with a splash of milk.”
He nodded then went to the counter. While he got their beverages and buns, she nabbed a table in a quiet corner.
“So.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Do you have any idea who pulled the stunt with the horse manure?”
“Not at all. Your…deputy said no one at the bookstore, or the law offices saw anything untoward.”
“That’s correct. Neither of them has a good view, thanks to all the trees. Anyway, who’d notice if someone opened a car door and put something inside—unless they were close enough to see or smell the horse manure that is.”
“I left my driver’s-side window open this morning. I guess I was a little distracted. It could have been some teenagers seeing an opportunity and taking advantage of it?”
“Maybe if you were an unpopular schoolteacher, or a politician or something. But no one here knows you. Why would someone do this?”
“Could my car have been chosen at random?”
“If so, it would be the first time since I’ve been Sheriff. To me it feels like a deliberate scare tactic. A warning. You’ve said you’re here because your brother-in-law visited Lost Trail the day before he died. You think there’s a connection to Eve Brooks’s disappearance in 2009 and—let me tell you—I believe you’re right.”
She felt a flush of satisfaction. But then he continued.
“But I think there’s something else. Something you’re not telling me. There had to be a reason Brent suddenly got interested in a woman who disappeared sixteen years ago. And I’d really like to know what that reason was.”
She felt a pinprick of guilt. Withholding information from the authorities wasn’t her usual style. But though she had no reason to doubt this Sheriff’s integrity—so far—she knew there was often a deep distrust of outsiders in some of the more rural and isolated regions of this country. If someone from Lost Trail had sent that blackmail letter, how could she be sure the Sheriff wouldn’t be more interested in protecting him or her, rather than exposing the truth?
“I have nothing else to say, Sheriff.”
His mouth compressed with disappointment. “Look, I’m not trying to pry into your affairs for fun. I’m trying to keep you safe.”
Joelle picked off the end of her cinnamon bun. It was hard not to like this guy, and she was tempted to open an honest dialogue with him. But she’d already seen how fast information spread in this town and it felt safer to keep quiet for the moment.
“I’m not going to be scared off from asking questions.”
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Fine. But eventually you’re going to have to trust someone.”
“And you think that someone should be you?”
“Obviously.” He gave a sigh. “Until then, you be careful.”
*
Joelle took the Sheriff’s admonition to be careful seriously. On her way out of town, after picking up her groceries, she also stopped to buy a second can of bear spray. Her main concern as she did this was not for bears. She didn’t own a gun, had never owned a gun, and never wanted to own a gun. But she needed to be able to protect herself and bear spray was the obvious solution. Anyone could use a can of bear spray. Just point and then press the lever.
She would keep the canister in her cross-body bag and wear it everywhere she went. She would also avoid driving at night or on back country roads where she would be the easiest target for a hit-and-run. And when she was in the cottage she’d keep it locked at all times.
Would this be enough to keep her safe? She hoped so. She didn’t want to believe that the person who had left the horse manure in her car had killed Brent and might be capable of doing the same to her. But realistically, she had to stay open to the possibility.
She had an urge to call Olivia, but her sister would probably tell her to boot it out of town as fast as she could. Which, of course, was an option. But years of ferreting out stories had taught Joelle that where her subjects were most resistant was usually where the biggest stories were found. Yes, she was nervous, but her sister and nieces needed to know what had really happened to Brent, and she wouldn’t find out sitting at home.
Two vehicles were parked in Myrtle’s yard when she pulled up in her Jeep. Beside Myrtle’s red SUV was a slick Ford 250, outfitted with the seemingly ubiquitous rifle rack. She parked on the other side of the truck, closest to the cottage, wondering which she should do first: deep-clean the upholstery in her car, or take Trix on a hike. Grabbing her bag of groceries, she headed toward the cottage, then paused when she heard voices coming from Myrtle’s front porch. It sounded like she was having a heated discussion with a man.
Torn between respecting her landlady’s privacy and wanting to make sure she was okay, Joelle hesitated. Another loud outburst from the man decided her. Putting her free hand on her cross-body bag, and feeling the reassuring can of bear spray, Joelle took the path to the main house.
The mystery man was no mystery once she saw him. It was Edward Cocker, from the Lost Trail Courier. Sitting opposite him on the front porch was Myrtle, who looked upset, but not afraid.
“I tell you, you’re playing with fire. You just won’t listen, will you, woman?”
Myrtle spied Joelle before she could answer. Quickly her expression morphed into a lame attempt at a smile. “Hi, Joelle.”
Edward whipped around, and his brow furrowed as he recognized her. “Well, if it isn’t our journalist from Flathead County.”
“Sorry to interrupt. I’ll come back another time.”
“That’s okay,” Myrtle said. “How was your day?”
Joelle looked from her to Edward, who was still scowling. The way his eyes were drilling into hers, she surmised that what the two of them had been arguing about had been her.
“It was interesting.” To say the least. “But I should get back to the cottage, put away these groceries, and take Trix out for some exercise. She’s been cooped up all morning.”
“Please excuse Edward. He can be such an old goat sometimes.”
Edward grunted.
“Oh, and before you leave. My book club is meeting here tonight at seven. Amanda Cocker, our town librarian, is coming as well as some other women in the community. All of them very interesting people. We’ll be discussing Kristin Hannah’s book The Women. You’re welcome to join us, even if you haven’t read it.”
“I have read that book and I’d love to come.” She wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to spend time with Amanda. Maybe in a more relaxed setting she’d be able to gain the other woman’s trust.
“Well, well, seems like your guest is fitting right in here in Lost Trail.” Edward’s tone was sardonic and aimed at Myrtle. But she didn’t seem fazed.
“The meeting is at seven on our back deck,” she repeated. “And we’ll have wine, a cheese tray, and dessert. So don’t eat a big dinner.”
“Okay, great, I’ll see you at seven.”
As Joelle left she had to pass right by Edward’s truck. She noticed he had a bumper sticker with a picture of a stag’s head: Hunting Is Free Range and Organic. She had the feeling a lot of people around here lived by the same creed.
*
After a day where the highlight had been questioning Joelle Medler about the manure in her car, Zak was back at his desk staring down his budget deadline. It was hard to concentrate though. One of his usual strengths was dealing with people, gaining their trust, convincing them to open up. Nadine said people could tell he was honest and that he cared. Whatever the reason, it sure wasn’t working with Joelle Medler. She knew something she wasn’t telling him, but why didn’t she feel she could trust him?
Or was she keeping quiet for another reason? To protect her brother-in-law’s reputation perhaps? Or to protect her story?
His musings were interrupted when Bea gave her customary tap, then opened his door.
“A Matt Gallagher to see you, Sheriff.” Behind her was a thin young man with a long ponytail and hangdog eyes. “His girlfriend is hiking the Continental Divide Trail. She was supposed to drop into town yesterday but she still hasn’t shown up.”
That didn’t sound good. Zak waved the guy in. “Take a seat and fill me in. What’s your girlfriend’s name?”
Matt sat on the front half of the chair. One leg jittered up and down relentlessly. “My girlfriend’s name is Jamie Brooks.”
Zak paused in the middle of writing that down. “Her last name is Brooks?”
“Yeah.”
An electric charge zinged down his spine and up again. “Is she by any chance related to an Eve Brooks? That’s the name of a hiker who went missing in this area sixteen years ago.”
“Eve was her mother. The family never found out what happened to her. Jamie’s hiking the Helena to Leadore portion of the CDT in her memory. Her dad didn’t want her to, and I wasn’t that keen either. But she was determined.” Matt rubbed the sides of his face and sighed. “If only she’d waited until next year, I would have gone with her. But I just started a new job in January. I couldn’t very well ask for a month off work already. It was hard enough getting the days off to meet her here.”
“Any idea why she felt she had to hike the trail this year?”
“Jamie’s dad got this call from an investigator, totally out of the blue, asking if the family had ever found out what happened to Eve. That got everyone worked up again. Jamie especially.”
The muscles in Zak’s hand grew so tense he had to stop writing. “Do you know the investigator’s name?”
“Sorry, no. Does it matter?”
“It might.”
“Well, Steve might remember. That’s Jamie’s dad.”
“Does the name Brent Culver sound familiar?”
Matt reflected for a moment. “Yeah, actually, it does. Why? Do you know this dude?”
“I know he was interested in what happened to your girlfriend’s mother. He was in Lost Trail not long ago asking about her. Unfortunately he was in an accident recently and is now deceased.” As he spoke, Zak’s mind was spinning, trying to make sense of how the daughter could have gone missing in the same stretch of the trail as her mother. “When, exactly, was Jamie supposed to land in Lost Trail?”
“Yesterday afternoon, around lunchtime. I waited for hours at that café on Tumbleweed. Maybe I should have raised the alarm then, but Jamie had warned me that she had developed some painful blisters and wouldn’t be able to hike as quickly as she’d planned. I thought for sure I’d hear from her this morning though. But…I haven’t.”
Zak cleared the papers from his desk and spread out a detailed map of the area. Then he oriented it in Matt’s direction. “Can you point out Jamie’s last known location?”
Matt studied the map for a minute, then pointed to Anaconda. “She phoned me from here last Thursday. She was planning to get a lift back to the trail the following morning. She’d developed blisters, like I said, and wasn’t hiking at her usual pace. She said she hoped to hit Chief Joseph Pass by noon on Tuesday, but if not, she should make it by noon the next morning. The plan was for me to pick her up at the pass so we could spend a few nights in Lost Trail before she hiked that last stretch to Leadore.”
“Where are you staying?” Zak asked him.
“Sweet Dreams Bed and Breakfast. By the library.”
“I know the place.” As Zak folded the map, he was already working on a mental to-do list. “Do you have a recent photo of Jamie? Her approximate weight and height?”
Matt AirDropped a photo taken at the Denver Airport at the beginning of Jamie’s adventure. Zak could spot the resemblance to Eve right away, and his gut clenched with worry for her. Her expression was determined and strong, but so many things could go wrong for solo hikers. Most people worried about bears and mountain lions, but the real dangers were getting lost and disoriented, taking a bad fall, getting injured, dehydrated.
“She’s about five-foot-three and a hundred and twenty-five pounds,” Zak added.
“I’m going to organize our local search and rescue outfit,” Zak said. “They’ll go out with trained hound dogs and try to track her that way. I’ll also call the law enforcement center in Anaconda and ask them to start a search on their stretch of the trail. We’ve got about ten hours before sunset. If we haven’t found her by then we’ll send out some Two Bear Rescue copters with infrared heat sensors.”
“Can I help?” Matt asked.
“It’s best if you stay in town where we’ll be able to reach you. Have you notified her father?”
Matt gulped. “I guess I better.”
“I’ll need his name and contact information also,” Zak said. The budget was going to have to wait. It looked like it would be a long night. Once Matt had left his office, he called Nadine.
“Zak?”
“Something’s come up.”
She groaned. “Why did I know you would say that? You going to be late?”
“Afraid so. Why—” And then he remembered. “You have book club tonight, don’t you?”
“And I actually read the book this time.”
“I thought that was the point of book club.”
“The point is wine and an evening with grown-ups,” she corrected him. “And I can’t ask Tiff or Rosemary to babysit because they’ll be going too.”
Zak tried to think of a solution, but day care would be closed, and they didn’t have other options. “Could you take Jett along and put him to sleep in his portable cot?”
Nadine sighed. “I guess. What’s keeping you late, by the way?”
“A CDT through-hiker didn’t show up in town yesterday as expected. Her boyfriend is concerned.”
“What time was he expecting her?”
“Around noon. Yesterday.”
“That’s not good. Was she hiking with anyone?”
“Nope.”
“That’s too bad.” Her earlier annoyance was gone, now she only sounded concerned. “I hope you find her, Zak. And that she’s okay.”
*
“Hey, Trix,” Joelle called out as she entered the cabin. “How’s my girl?”
Trix raised her head and gave her a dirty look, as if to say she certainly wasn’t Joelle’s girl. Then, almost reluctantly, she left the chair and went to stand by the basket where Joelle kept her harness.
“I get the hint. But you’re going to have to wait while I clean a mess in my car.” She put away her groceries then exchanged the sundress she’d worn to town with running shorts and a tank top. After preparing a pail of hot, soapy water, she was ready to face the stench in her car.
She was relieved to see that Edward Cocker’s truck was gone. Maybe he liked most pretty women, but that guy was clearly no fan of hers. She opened all her car doors for maximum air flow, then set to scrubbing the dark gray upholstery. While she was working, she heard footsteps and turned to see Myrtle heading in her direction.
“I’m sorry Edward was so rude.”
“That’s okay. He wasn’t rude so much as gruff.”
“That’s a kind interpretation. He’s one of Sam’s closest friends, so he’s almost like one of the family. He seems to think that gives him the right to tell me what to do.”
“Let me guess. He didn’t like you renting your cabin to me.”
Myrtle gave a rueful laugh. “Don’t take it personally. He’s suspicious of outsiders.”
Or maybe he just didn’t like all the questions she was asking about Brent and Eve Brooks? Whatever the reason, he clearly wanted her gone. Maybe he was responsible for the manure in her car, though it seemed a juvenile move for a grown-up man.
“Will your husband be at the book club meeting tonight?”
“Oh, heavens no. Sam usually meets Edward at the bar on book club nights. It will be good for him to relax and have fun with a friend. You probably noticed he was a little tense last night.” Then, probably to change the subject, she pointed to the bucket. “Did you spill something in your car?”
Joelle sighed. “It’s a long story.”
Myrtle gave her a puzzled look, then stuck her head inside the Jeep. “Sorry to tell you this, but it smells like a barn in here.”
“That’s because someone plopped a shovelful of horse manure on the driver’s seat while I was in town.”
“What? Who would do that?”
“That’s a good question. I’m guessing someone isn’t happy about the questions I’ve been asking.”
Myrtle regarded her for several long seconds. “You think it was a warning?”
Joelle nodded. “The Sheriff seems to agree.”
“Does that mean he agrees there could be a connection between your brother-in-law’s visit to Lost Trail and his accident the next day?”
Joelle swallowed. “I guess he does.”
Myrtle was silent for a long time as she absorbed that. Then she said, “I know what we should do.”
“What?”
“Put a cup of fresh coffee grounds in your car. Nothing better for soaking up obnoxious smells.”
*
It was almost five and Joelle was getting hungry, but Trix, who’d taken a stance by the basket with her hiking harness, was clearly not to be distracted.
“Okay, okay,” Joelle said. “We’ll go.”
Joelle strapped on a small backpack, so she’d have a place to store her bear spray and water bottle. She never went out for more than an hour without also bringing along a snack, a warm layer, and a waterproof jacket. Weather changed fast in the mountains, and she liked to be prepared.
At the trailhead, Joelle turned on her GPS watch to track her distance and heart rate. Then she looked down at the dog, standing as far away from her as the leash permitted.
“It’s you and me, buddy. We might as well get along.”
Trix’s reply was to crouch and take a dump right there on the lawn.
With a groan, Joelle bagged it and walked the long way around to the bear-proof garbage cans beside Myrtle’s garage. And finally they were off.
It felt wonderful to slip out of the hot afternoon sun into the cool shelter of the forest. The ground felt springy underfoot, and Joelle was interested to see that the forest around her was much different from the pine trees and larches common to the Flathead Valley. She recognized the cedars, with their flat, lacy foliage and vertically striped, dark-red bark. But what about the trees with the long, prickly needles? Or the shrubs with the fat leaves that looked like maples on steroids? And those dark-red berries—were they edible?
