Pack of Lies, page 15
Eli drifted away from the others, ostensibly to look out the window but actually to get a sniff around before they were booted out. It was the graffiti though that kept catching his eye. All different colors and sizes. Words Eli could read. Words he couldn’t. Words he’d rather not. There was art, too. Doodles of faces, pretty designs, funny little illustrations of animals, and an array of breasts, balls and dicks that was genuinely impressive, both in variety and number.
“Listen,” he heard Cody say very quietly to Julien across the room. “You guys can’t fuck in here or whatever. Annabelle would freak. No one’s supposed to come into the cabin ever.”
Julien’s blush was borderline audible. “We weren’t—we’re just here for the view.”
“Yeah, okay,” Cody said, and Eli could hear his smirk without turning around. “Nice view.”
“Is that why people usually come up here?” Eli asked, tracing one of the carvings on the bench—a heart with the initials A and D. “To fuck?” He turned around to look at the others staring at him with wide, surprised eyes.
Cody recovered first and shrugged in a way meant to broadcast all the disenchanted maturity of twenty-five. “That’s one reason. You wouldn’t even begin to believe the other shit I’ve seen on this mountain. Turns out freaks roll uphill, too.”
“How long have you worked here?” Julien asked.
“Six years. I used to do ski patrol over school breaks. That was when we had, you know, actual groups of skiers to patrol.” He ground the toe of his boot against an anatomically unlikely etching. “I can’t wait to get out of this place.”
“What’s stopping you?” Eli asked politely.
Cody shot him an annoyed look. “And leave Annabelle here to fight her demons alone? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Except I would never abandon her like that asshole did. We leave together. Just as soon as she signs those fucking papers and sells this cursed shithole, we can start our lives together.”
“A multimillion-dollar cursed shithole,” Eli murmured.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cody demanded.
“Just admiring your loyalty,” Eli said.
“I hope your buyer hasn’t been turned off by this business yesterday,” Julien said hastily before that comment had time to ripen. Pity. “You’re selling to De Luca, right?”
Eli felt the distinct urge to kick him in the shin, not this again, but Cody just looked confused. “No. Who is that?”
“No one,” Eli said.
At the same time Julien said, “Oh, my mistake. I forgot that’s who’s interested in purchasing the retreat.”
Cody seemed to swell right there in front of them, breathing in deeply. “Now that Annabelle gets that Ian’s not coming back, we can both get out of here. No more waiting on spoiled tourists, no more debt and no more Sweet fucking Pea. If anyone thinks he can sabotage that, think again.”
“Is that why you’re pressuring Patrick West to convince Annabelle it’s not Sweet Pea?” Julien asked.
Cody just snorted. “Pressuring? Yeah, right. Don’t let the ‘oh, I’m just here to follow the evidence’ act fool you. Dude doesn’t believe in Sweet Pea any more than you do.”
“He certainly visits a lot for someone not expecting to find anything,” Julien said.
“Oh, he expects to find something—Nielsen’s treasure.”
For one long moment the only sound was the soft icy brush of snowflakes hitting the window glass. Cody had a smug look on his face, and for once Eli thought it well earned. There weren’t a lot of opportunities in life for melodramatic announcements and he’d handled this one quite well. Even Julien looked taken aback. Unnerved.
“Forgive me,” Eli said at last. “I thought Dr. Nielsen was a scientist, not a pirate. Was he apt to bury treasure?”
“He was super fucking rich, that’s what he was. Not to mention a total paranoid freak. So yeah, probably.”
“The treasure is money?” Julien asked, which seemed like an odd question.
Cody seemed to agree since he stared at them blankly. “As opposed to what? Gold?”
Julien opened his mouth then shut it, like even he didn’t have the fortitude to follow that up. Instead he asked, “Did Ian and Annabelle know that’s why Patrick kept coming back to Maudit Falls?”
“Ian sure did. They used to go looking for it together. Gridding out the land, digging up the mountain—sometimes they wouldn’t come back ’til morning.”
“Ian thought there was actually treasure on Blue Tail?”
Cody smiled in an unfriendly way. “Why else would he be spending all that time in the woods?”
The whoop-whoop of a police horn broke the silence and Cody rolled his eyes. “Bucky’s calling. He hates coming up here. Annabelle told me he’s scared of heights.” He snorted. “You better go before he puts on the siren.”
It was quicker going down than coming up. Sure enough, there at the bottom in the clearing Bucknell greeted them with a lazy salute. “I was wondering who left their car by the gate.”
“That’s mine,” Julien said. “Should I not have parked there?”
“Don’t much matter now,” Bucknell said. “You’re not going to be moving it anytime soon. Tire’s out.”
“What?”
Bucknell shrugged. “Looks like some kind of puncture. I can drive you all back down to the lodge. But I’m afraid you’ll have to find your own way from there, Mr. Smith. I have to stop in and have a word with Annabelle.”
It was interesting, the way Julien and Cody both went very still. Not so dissimilar from wolves first catching the scent of blood in the air.
“Well, you have us on bated breath, Mr. Bucknell,” Eli said. “I take it from your theatrical pause that you’ve identified the remains?”
“We have. Carter Lourde. Hiker who went missing four years ago. He and his buddy were doing the Appalachia Trail. The buddy twisted his knee and went home. Said Carter wanted to keep on. Family reported him missing a couple weeks after that. Said he never made it to the next check-in point. You remember it, don’t you, Cody?”
Cody didn’t seem to register the question. There was an awkward pause as he just kept staring at Bucknell and then, “What? Yeah. Yeah, I remember.”
“What’s the matter, kid? You’re looking a tad green over there,” Bucknell said sharply.
“No, I—I thought they were looking for him up north, in Virginia.”
“That’s true. On account of the buddy saying they didn’t split up ’til somewhere over the border. Needless to say, we’ll be following up on that lapse in memory.”
“You’re sure?” Julien asked. “I mean, it’s definitely this hiker guy?”
“Ninety-nine percent only because I’m not the sort to say a hundred. We ran his plates. The titanium ones in the arm. Carter had an old playground fracture. It’s him.” He slapped his hands and rubbed them briskly in the cold. “If we don’t get on the road now we’ll be spending the night in the tower and any local can tell you that’s bad luck.”
“If the moon catches you up Blue Tail, he’ll steal your love away,” Cody said distantly.
Bucknell sent him a sharp look. “That’s right. Where’d you hear that?”
Cody shook his head. He still looked a little unwell. “Just something Ian used to say.”
“Of course he did,” Bucknell muttered. “Well, today that’s one bit of Maudit folklore I can get behind. Nobody’s going to want to be stuck up here during a storm like we’ve got coming. Not even the moon.”
Chapter Nine
The Moon is a popular figure in Maudit folklore dating back to...
Julien tossed the playing card on the table in front of him. Useless. All of it. The answers he was looking for weren’t in these Sweet Pea cards, Patrick West’s books, or even, he was beginning to fear, Maudit Falls at all. After everything that had happened that morning at the retreat, everything Eli had told him, Julien had felt like progress was finally being made. But what did a fatal spat between hikers have to do with his brother, the map, anything?
Julien flicked another card onto the table where they’d gathered informally in Blue Tail’s breakfast room. Bucknell was speaking with Annabelle in the corner. Cody, for once, wasn’t hanging on her like a scarf, but couldn’t seem to fully leave either. He kept futzing over this and that, leaving the room and then returning five minutes later to do it again, all while casting long looks at the two of them. The other guests seemed restless as well, all of them lingering around the room over long-empty dinner plates as if waiting for something.
Or maybe they just had nowhere else to go. The snow was sheeting outside now and it had taken Bucknell twice as long as it should to drive them all to the lodge, the roads were that bad. Julien thought it was odd for North Carolina, but according to the ever-helpful Bucknell some of the mountain towns around here got eighty inches a year at least. It seemed like Blue Tail was trying for the whole thing in one night.
Julien shot a hopefully subtle look across the room where Eli sat entertaining Mr. and Mrs. Miura, doubtless trying to charm a ride out of here. He’d been quiet on the car ride back with Bucknell and Cody. Not that they could openly discuss anything then. But Julien had still craved some glance, some moment of connection to assure him that Eli was still with him. It seemed unlikely. In order to solve a murder, one typically required a murder to solve and Julien’s had just gone up in smoke, no disrespect to the unfortunate Carter Lourde. He’d been so sure they’d found Ian Ackman and that finding his killer would be the key to understanding everything. Now he couldn’t even be sure the man was dead.
The chair across from his scraped across the floor and Eli sat. “I’ve just had the most interesting chat with Sara Miura. Apparently she and her husband, Jun, have run into our alleged treasure hunter Patrick West before. He’s been staying in town for the last week at least. Seems like a rabbit, to me.”
The way Julien’s heart was beating out of his chest was a good reminder of just how quickly and quietly the man moved and it took a minute to register what he said. “A rabbit?”
“An odd thing to keep under your hat,” Eli said. Paused. Grinned. “Unless you’re playing tricks.”
“You—you still want to do some digging?”
“Well, of course I do. Some nefarious type is parading around the woods in a Sweet Pea suit, our list of potential culprits has just grown by two, the retreat remains in peril and the mystery of the missing camera remains.” Eli eyed him critically. “Unless this is your way of telling me you’d rather lay down your own shovel.”
For a moment, Julien was too relieved to say anything. “No, not at all. Hardy Boys never lose their nerve. Ah, what do you mean the potential culprit list has grown by two? West and who?”
“Ian Ackman, of course,” Eli said promptly. “Now that the man’s officially missing in action, once more.”
“You mean if he isn’t dead he might still be...around? Here?” Julien whispered, glancing around the dining room, but no one was looking their way. “Why would he do that?”
“Why does anyone go off the grid?” Eli replied. “To hide from someone. Or something.” He tilted his head, gaze drifting over to Bucknell and Annabelle in the corner. “She doesn’t sound very relieved, does she.”
“Sound? When’d you manage to eavesdrop over there? I thought you were talking to the Miuras,” Julien said, suddenly feeling self-conscious that while he’d been sulking Eli was apparently running recon all over the lodge.
Eli looked confused for a moment. “Ah, no. But if I thought I’d stumbled across my ex-lover’s bones and then found out I was wrong, you could expect a little less calm, collected conversation in the corner. One small woot, at least.”
“To be fair, we don’t know if she ever even thought that was Ian Ackman,” Julien reasoned. “Just because I jumped to conclusions and dragged you along with me.”
“Cody jumped, too,” Eli said firmly. “You heard him in the tower. Now that Annabelle gets that Ian’s not coming back. He couldn’t have been more shocked if they told him that was his own rib cage out there.”
Julien barked a laugh and Eli met his eyes with an answering smile.
“You should stay here tonight,” Julien heard himself say, and Eli’s face went peculiarly blank. Shit. “I mean, the roads aren’t really safe, and if you stay we can talk about this more privately.” Double shit. “I mean, I think it would be a good idea to recap. I’d like to get your take on what Cody said.”
“Yes,” Eli said after a moment. “Mad scientists, buried treasure, a monster in the woods. All that’s missing are a few meddling kids and he’d have quite a story.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“I didn’t say that. You’d heard Nielsen’s name before?”
Julien looked away from Eli’s piercing gaze. “Mmm, the name popped up in my brother’s things.” When he glanced back, Eli was still studying him, head tilted slightly. “What?”
Eli blinked slowly. “Just thinking about how out of everyone in this lodge you send up the most red flags and yet here I am prancing after you like a horny bull.”
“Well, there’s no one here I’d rather have at my back, Ferdinand,” Julien said, and Eli flashed a very toothy smile before his eyes flickered to the left. Julien followed his gaze in time to catch Patrick West redirect toward them.
“Gentlemen, mind if I join you?” he asked, already pulling out the chair directly next to Eli’s. “Quite a bad storm out there.”
Julien did his part by agreeing. They made the requisite comments about climate change, and then Patrick got to the point. “Terrible news about that poor hiker. So young, too. All it takes is one bad patch of service and you’re suddenly the most naive animal in the woods. And there’s more than one bad patch in these mountains.”
It seemed Bucknell hadn’t told anyone how Lourde had died. Julien wondered why.
“Cody mentioned you’ve spent a lot of time up the mountain yourself,” Eli was saying. “Have you ever run into a stranded soul?”
“Oh, once or twice. Nothing drastic. Folks wandering off the trail to follow the sound of a waterfall and think it’s child’s play to retrace their steps. Couples who sneak off to hook up in the woods.”
“In the woods?” Eli repeated, looking appalled, and his gaze drifted over to meet Julien’s. “How...coarse.” That sounded less like a condemnation and Julien felt a traitorous spark of want. A spark that was doused with all the subtlety of a fire hose when Eli looked back at Patrick and said, “Is that what you and Ian Ackman were really doing out there? Hooking up?”
To his credit, Patrick barely reacted. His eyes only slightly narrowed while Julien hastily reattached his jaw. “Did Cody tell you that? I admit I’m impressed; I didn’t think he had the imagination.”
“Oh, he doesn’t,” Eli said. “Cody insists that you and Ian were hunting for buried treasure. I assumed he’d gotten the wrong end of the euphemism.”
“Nielsen’s secret fortune?” Patrick asked with a surprised laugh. “Not that old story again.”
“So you’ve heard of it?” Eli asked.
“Not only have I heard of it, I was there when it first got told. Back when we were kids, the four of us were obsessed with the Nielsens. I hate to say it, but there probably isn’t a rumor about that family that we didn’t spread ourselves.”
Eli hummed. “If the two of you weren’t spending the night where XXX marks the spot, what were you doing?”
“There was no two of us. There never was.” Patrick studied Eli with an expression Julien didn’t quite understand—offended and amused at the same time, maybe. An expression Eli probably got a lot, come to think of it. “Do you honestly think having an affair and—” he waved his hand “—digging for gold sounds more realistic than believing in the existence of creatures science has yet to identify?” He laughed again, but this one sounded slightly strained, forced. “Is it really so difficult to accept that there are people who genuinely believe in the possibility of something more?”
Eli blinked slowly. “On the contrary, I’m nearly always in a state of wanting more, myself,” he murmured. “But you wouldn’t catch me traveling back to the nucleus of my childhood trauma and pitching tents with a man I clearly despise for a mere possibility.”
Patrick smiled wryly. “Ian and I weren’t always enemies. But I see your point. It isn’t particularly easy, coming home.”
“Then why keep coming back here and not, oh, I don’t know, where do supernatural creatures usually congregate? Somewhere less snowy, one would hope.” Eli shivered slightly. “Tell me what’s so irresistible about this place. The nostalgia? The pretty views? I want to know what Patrick West finds compelling.”
“Besides you?” Patrick asked.
Eli’s lips curled in a slow secretive smile and he tilted his head just so. “Not unless you came all this way for your something more with me.”
Patrick was staring at Eli for all the world like that was exactly why he was here and who could blame him? If Julien were the one Eli was looking at like that, charming and playful, he would, too. Hell, he’d go anywhere for a chance of more with Eli. Not that more was an option being offered to him.
Julien hastily arranged his own expression into what he hoped was casual, unaffected observation and not anything embarrassingly childish like jealous, jilted and horny. Little that it mattered since no one was even looking in his direction, anyway.
Patrick shook his head slightly then, as if deciding something, said, “Sweet Pea is a curiosity, a shadow myth. He can’t definitively be traced to any known people, identity group or text.”
“What do you mean, shadow myth?” Julien asked. Partly out of genuine curiosity. Partly to remind them that he was in fact still here.
“Oh, just a phrase some of us came up with a while ago. It’s a bit silly, really. But imagine folklore, legends and myths as sort of shadows that cultures leave on the land. They’re not perfect representations, but you can get a general idea of the shape of a culture, what mattered to their people, by studying their myths. There are certain consistencies of value reflected there. Of course, like shadows, myths overlap and meld together as communities mix through whatever means and stories are appropriated. But the point is every shadow requires something to cast it.”
