“Okay.” Rio grabbed a few evidence bags, snatched up his camera, and headed out the door.
“So, we have a naked killer in Black Rock Falls?” Emily looked skeptical.
Taking in the room, Kane shrugged. “There’re plenty of clothes in this room, male and female. She has a closet full of them, and obviously didn’t give her husband’s things to Goodwill. Or if this murder was as well planned as it seems, the killer could’ve had a spare set in their vehicle. It’s not as if anyone would see them out here.”
“Not that we found any sign of a vehicle and we’ve searched all over.” Rowley pushed up his Stetson.
Kane walked to Rowley’s side. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m good.” Rowley raised both eyebrows. “Seems watching my twins being born and changing diapers has hardened me. I didn’t even spew this time.”
Slapping him on the back, Kane smiled. “That’s good to know.”
“Hey.” Rio’s voice came from downstairs. “There’s been a fire out back. You might want to take a look, Sheriff.”
“On my way.” Jenna looked at Kane. “Finish up here, I’ll wait for you downstairs. I don’t want to risk contaminating the scene with ash from the fire.”
Kane took the evidence bags from her and nodded. “Sure.” He looked at Rowley. “Did you find the house keys?”
“Nope but her phone was beside the bed.” Rowley scratched his head and peered around. “Do you want me to search downstairs?”
Scanning the room, Kane shook his head. “Nah, she’d likely keep her purse close by, so look up here.” He turned to Wolfe. “I’m guessing you’ll be wanting to preserve the scene pending the autopsy results?”
“Yeah, and I’ll leave the lights here for now, but we should check the cellar before we go.” Wolfe walked around the bed and pulled open drawers. “Ah, here’s her purse.” He opened the substantial bag. “ID, house keys, and five hundred in bills. So robbery isn’t a motive.” He tossed the purse to Kane. “We’ll need to make sure the place is secured. I’d like to see the point of entry. If someone got through the cellar window, they could again and return after we leave.”
“Sure.” Kane handed Rowley Jenna’s evidence bags and led the way out of the bedroom.
“Okay, Em, that’s all we need for now.” Wolfe looked at her over one shoulder. “Take all the evidence back to your truck. Rowley will help you. I’ll meet y’all downstairs.”
They found the cellar and Kane peered into the blackness, glad to find a working light. How many times had he walked into a dark cellar and found a corpse? With all he’d faced in his lifetime, a dark cellar still gave him the jitters. With Wolfe close beside him, they searched every inch. One wall had been used to display tools and had a well-used workbench below. Tools and half-finished projects littered the bench. A wave of sorrow hit him in the pit of his stomach. Agnes probably hadn’t disturbed it since her husband died. She must have wanted the remembrances of him around her. He checked the window. “This could be opened from the outside. A knife would lift the catch with ease, and we know they had a knife.” He searched the workbench and returned to the window with a hammer and nails. Standing on an upturned milk crate, he secured the window. “No one is getting inside now.”
“Good.” Wolfe headed for the stairs. “Let’s get out of here. It’s been a long day. The autopsy will be at ten as usual.” He turned to smile at Kane. “Ah, by the way. The mission you sent me on went real well. They’ll be contacting you in about a week.”
“Great.” Kane followed him up the stairs. “At least something in this crazy world is working out right for a change.”
FIVE
TUESDAY
Exhausted from a disturbed night’s sleep and too scared of bears to go to the woodpile for fresh logs for the fire, Jolene Darvish pulled on the thick coat that once belonged to her husband and rubbed the frost on the window to make a patch to see through. It might be spring but it was still freezing high in the mountains. It had seemed a good idea all those years ago to build a cabin at Bear Peak and live off the grid. Injured during his tour of duty, her husband had returned home a different man. He needed solitude and didn’t want to mix with the townsfolk. Being young and strong, they’d camped out until they’d built the cabin. She’d worked in town as a dental hygienist to earn enough to pay for the essentials, but Johnny never left the mountain until the day he died. Now all alone, with no kids, her family long gone, she had no choice but to remain through long cold winters and summers with the risk of losing everything in a wildfire.
She peered outside and gasped at the door to her food locker hanging open. With no cellar in the house, they’d built the sturdy building with granite rocks and a thick wooden door. Bears had never ransacked it in the fifty years she’d lived on the mountain. Had she forgotten to lock it? She moved slowly to the front door and found the key, hanging on the bent nail right where she’d left it. If she hadn’t locked the door, the key would be in the lock. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she pulled open the front door and peered all around. The cabin backed up to the mountain, giving a clear view all around the dense forest. Moving with caution, she stepped outside and sniffed the air. Bears had a foul smell and the air was fresh and clean.
Making her way to the food locker, her boots crunching on the ice patches on the grass, she peered in dismay at the broken lock. Light filtered inside and lit up the empty shelves. Everything was gone. “Oh no, my chickens.”
Heart pounding, she shuffled to the other side of the house, expecting to see blood and feathers. She pressed a hand to her chest in relief. The chicken coop was untouched. Her fat brown hens were still safe and warm inside the shed. She opened the coop and poured food from a metal bin onto the floor, checked their water, and then went back to the house. The firewood could wait. Right now, she needed to head into town to speak to Father Derry at the shelter and explain what had happened. With luck, he’d put her name down for another portion of the donated meat from the local hunters. She’d help out by serving food for a couple of hours, and maybe be able to grab a meal before heading off to the meeting of the quilting circle. It had been a long winter without company apart from the odd phone call. The snow had isolated her for months and, not being able to clear the driveway, she had no choice but to wait for the melt. After checking her purse, she found enough bills to buy groceries to see her through, but not enough to fix the door.
Grimacing, she headed for her truck. Years ago, she could have fixed the darn thing herself, but now in h
er eighties, everything seemed more difficult. She sighed. Even climbing into her truck was becoming a problem, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Living rough had made her resilient. She rarely got sick and often believed her husband was watching over her. Through all the bad times since he’d died, something had always happened to eventually make things right. She glanced at the rings on her fingers. Maybe she could trade one for a new lock? There, problem solved, and it wasn’t even eight yet.
The old truck shook and rattled, but she ignored it and turned up the tunes on the radio and sang along. One thing, she still had her singing voice, and somehow no matter how lonely she became, she could turn on the radio and it was like the sun coming out. So many memories came flooding back with those old tunes. It was like reliving a beautiful time in her life.
As she left her driveway and turned onto the dirt road, the truck bounced and scraped over fallen rocks. Living on the side of a mountain had its downfalls and fallen rocks or sometimes boulders were always a possibility after the melt. The old road went from Stanton right up to the top of Bear Peak, the part of the Black Rock Mountain range that resembled the head of a grizzly. Many people had once lived scattered through this part of the forest but not so many now, although the cabins remained. No one wanted to live here since it had become notorious as a murderer’s playground. Hikers had found many graves over the years and people intent on murder had continued to stain this beautiful part of the forest with blood.
Driving slowly around fallen boulders, Jolene kept one foot hovering over the brake. The descent was a steep incline, made dangerous by the scattering of soil and pebbles. In parts the narrow winding road fell away to a sheer drop into a gulley that took the runoff from the great Black Rock Falls. As the road snaked around, she could make out the glimmer of water at the bottom of the ravine, like a pale blue ribbon against the black granite rock.
With the radio blaring she didn’t hear the motor of another vehicle coming up behind her until it tapped the back of her truck. The sudden impact and increase in speed startled her as her vehicle careered down the mountain at an impossible rate. Panic gripped her as she wrestled with the wheel, trying to make the next bend. The raw edge of the road was coming up fast and glimpses of the trees in the gully rushed by. The menacing truck took up all her rearview mirror and, in a grind of metal, shunted her forward again. Terrified, she pressed down on the brake and, using all her strength, pulled hard on the wheel. Suddenly, the big truck dropped back, and trembling with shock, she wrestled her vehicle tight onto the side of the road to allow it to pass. Fingers shaking, she turned off the radio and waited. What kind of fool does that to an old lady in these parts? She peered into her rearview mirror, but instead of passing, the truck just sat there as if daring her to move. She opened her window and waved it past, trying to make out who was driving, but all she could see was the silver grill glistening in the sunlight.