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“That’s a helluva lot better than how he was before he left for Ireland. Any clue who he might be seeing?”
“No, not really. There are a few widows who’ve shown interest in him but I didn’t see him return the attention.”
“Well, I hope…” Then something struck Raven. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. “Carol’s hunting cabin.”
“Huh?” Dean grunted.
Carol had worked with the local sheriff’s office for Jackson Mellough until Bend took over as sheriff and things didn’t work out. Soon after, he found out that she was eyeball deep in criminal activity. “She had that old cabin up here. I don’t think she ever sold it or left it to anyone after she passed away. It’s been empty a long time. That’s information just about everyone in town would know.”
Understanding lit Dean’s expression then he blew out a deep breath. “Shit, bro. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“The suspect could come up Devil’s Fork, take a detour through the woods and land at the cabin about three miles west. It’s the long route but it’d definitely throw trackers off. It could be a long shot, but what harm would it be to follow a hunch?”
The crashing of the rain pounded around them as Raven and Dean backtracked down Devil’s Fork until they reached a clearing. They led the horses through the soggy grass dotted with stones and boulders and trunks ornamented with moss. Up ahead the tree line came into view. Here the fog wasn’t as thick, but low-hanging clouds covered treetops in mist.
Entering the woods, the horses carefully stepped over downed, rotten tree branches, pinecones and pine needles, twigs, and other natural debris on the forest floor.
Raven stopped and motioned for Dean, who was riding a few paces behind. “You see it?” He pointed at the arrow semi-buried in foliage as if someone had been hunting for wild game and had forgotten to grab the projectile.
Dean nodded. “Yeah.”
Raven continued through the woods, grateful that the leaves acted as an umbrella. They slid out of their saddles while still in the cover of the trees and hooked their horses to a craggy limb. They treaded through the mushy undergrowth and took a spot where they could see the vicinity.
“It appears quiet,” Dean said.
Two old cars with weeds grown up around the flat tires and doors, an old broken rocking chair on the porch, and a welcome wreath on the door were the only evidence that people once lived there.
“Let’s move in quietly,” Raven said. He withdrew his gun from the holster and took the first step into the clearing. Grass had grown as tall as his knees and wildflowers dotted the area. A stack of cut wood near a mud-chinked log outbuilding made Raven curious. Had someone recently chopped wood? An old, rusted tractor looked like it had been placed there as a lawn ornament along with a row of broken gnomes. “Stay here and don’t touch anything,” he told Dean then stepped onto the rotten porch, squinting when one of the boards splintered.
With his gun aimed at the ground, Raven pressed his back against the rough exterior wall of logs and peered into the cabin through the cracked window. Although the interior was dark, he didn’t sense any movement of life inside.
He tried the knob on the warped door. With a shoulder heave, the wood parted. He squeezed through the gap.
Inside, he found everything covered in cobwebs and dust. From a small plank of wood used as a countertop, a round rickety table, a wood-burning stove, and a fireplace filled with ash and blackened wood chunks, it didn’t appear like any of the items had been used recently. He stuck his hand over the coals and didn’t feel any heat.
He kicked a discarded can and gave a little jump when a rat scurried out of its hiding place under a chair and scampered through a hole in the wall. Raven chuckled at his hypersensitivity. “Get it together, man.”
The bedroom was ransacked, probably from teenagers who were curious after Carol’s crime hit the papers. Everyone in town suddenly became an amateur sleuth after she kidnapped the kid.
The drawers on the dresser were open and clothes were flung haphazardly on the floor. The wall mirror was broken and shards of glass were undisturbed.
Although everything seemed untouched for a while, something didn’t sit well with him.
What am I missing?
At the window, he pulled back the ripped, yellowed curtain and saw Dean peering into the window of one of the abandoned cars. Movement near Raven’s face made him look up. A wolf spider scurried up the dingy wall and disappeared into a crevice. Taking his flashlight out of his pocket, he focused on a shelf that held a dented oil lantern, a knife, and a box of nails. The cobwebs were disturbed and the dust had been swiped through. The knife looked like it had been placed there recently.
He took a step back and looked over the space then through the window again. Dean had rounded the car to the passenger side, his hand was poised on the door…
Raven saw something beyond the line of trees. A flash of red.
Was there someone there?
He scanned the abandoned car and saw that the rear-view mirror sat cockeyed.
Shit!
He pounded on the window so hard that he broke the glass. “Dean! Get away from the car!” he yelled.
