Chapter 12
Twelve
Dan
It’s been forty-eight hours since I’ve been here, but the change is pretty dramatic.
The log shell was stacked and we’d almost been done putting up the trusses, but I didn’t expect the roof to be up in just a couple of days.
It’s nice. It cost a whack, but I’m really digging how the slate gray steel panels look against the rugged logs.
I opted for a simple two-level design, mainly because it was the most economic use of space without taking up too much land. It was important to me to leave enough room for a small paddock and a barn without taking down too many trees. The second floor has three large dormers, and the windows on the front—main and second floor—will be large to allow a clear view of the Fisher River and the mountains beyond.
It already looks like a proper house on the outside, even though we haven’t yet started on the inside.
“That’s a nice-looking house.”
I turn around to find Sully walking up the driveway.
I saw him briefly late yesterday afternoon when Sloane and I got back to the ranch, but we didn’t really talk. I have a feeling that’s about to change. Sully is not the type to drop in to be neighborly.
“Thanks. I’m surprised they got the roof up so fast. Turned out good.”
He steps up beside me and takes a long, hard look at the house.
“How many bedrooms?” he finally asks after a lengthy silence I just let play out.
“Four.”
I can feel him turning his eyes on me, but I keep mine fixed on the house. If he has something he wants to talk about he’s gonna have to come out and say it.
“You planning for a big family?”
“I’d like a family, eventually, yes.”
Another pause.
“With Sloane.”
It was more of a statement than a question, but it definitely requires a response. I turn to face him.
“In an ideal world.”
Sully frowns. “I don’t even know what the fuck that means.”
“It means I would like to think it’s possible, but it’ll take a bit of convincing to get Sloane to believe it is.”
He’s still frowning at me, so I decide to elaborate a bit.
“I fucked up.”
Sully snorts. “That’s a given.”
“Eight years ago, I had no idea. Had no clue why she took off, and up ’til the day before yesterday, I still had no clue.”
“I assume you have a clue now.”
“Yup.”
“You plan to fix it?”
“Already working on it.”
Sully turns back to the house, tilts his hat back a little, and scratches his forehead.
“She’s stubborn.”
“I know,” I confirm.
“She’s not gonna make it easy, especially if she’s been hurt by you.”
“Know that too.”
He adjusts his hat, shoves a hand in his pocket, and turns to me.
“Well, best of luck with that.”
Then he starts walking back down the drive.
“Hey!” I call after him. “You’re not gonna try and scare me off?”
I’m not sure I like the grin he throws me.
“Nah. My sister’s gonna be here in a few days. Trust me, she’ll take care of that.”
I watch him casually stroll back toward his house, not quite sure whether he just cursed me or gave me his blessing. Not that it makes a lick of difference, it won’t stop me from going after Sloane either way.
I haven’t seen Sloane since yesterday. I offered to look after the horses when we got back since I knew she was eager to get home to see Aspen, and her Jeep was gone by the time I walked out of the barn. As soon as she had cell phone reception, she’d contacted Junior Ewing to find out the remains were safely at the Medical Examiner’s office—which is housed in the same building as the Sheriff’s Office—and would not be looked at until this morning. I also heard her request a cadaver dog team be sent into the gorge to look for additional remains, and she was upset when Ewing suggested they wait until the ME had a chance to look at the remains.
I’m sure she knows more by now, and I have to admit, I’m curious, but I’m not about to bother her with questions about her case. When I call—which I hope to do tonight when I think the baby is sleeping—I’m going to be focusing on Sloane.
But first I want to check out my house.
There is no door yet, nor are any of the windows installed. The stonework for the fireplace also still has to be done, but all of those things will happen once the interior framing is up, which I’m going to start tomorrow. I’ve taken tomorrow and Monday off, which gives me four straight days. JD said he’d help, and both Fletch and Wolff mentioned they’d drop by if they had time.
Daylight is waning outside, but the first thing I notice when I walk in is the amount of light still coming in through the window openings in the front. I move to what will be the living room window and look out at the river. It would be so nice if I could move in before winter hits.
It’s the beginning of September, which will give us this month and October—hopefully—before the snow starts flying. Let’s say eight weeks. If we could get the framing up, windows and plumbing and electrical done, I can work on things like flooring, drywall, kitchen, and paint over the winter while already living here.
From the corner of my eye, I notice movement as a large bull elk walks along the shallow bank of the river into view. A magnificent animal, proud and majestic, as it stops and raises its head, appearing to scan the other side of the river in the setting sun.
It’s rutting season, when the male elk is at its most aggressive, vying for any and every female crossing his path, and confronting any competitors, but this guy looks relaxed, almost peaceful as he calmly checks out his surroundings.
Taking my phone from my pocket, I pull up the camera app and shoot a couple of pictures. The light is just right, deepening the contrasts and the colors.
I think I’m going to enjoy sitting out on my porch at dawn or dusk, having a coffee or a beer, just watching all this beauty play out in front of me. Better yet if I had someone special beside me.
Mom would’ve loved this. She really took to country living after we moved from town to the ranch. At the time, I would have given her no more than a few months left to live, but the fresh mountain air seemed to give her a boost. In the end, she was with me for almost five more years before the cancer finally won.
I wonder if the elk is catching a scent when he stretches his neck and lifts his chin up in the air. But then he lets out a distinct loud, wailing bugle. A pitched sound that carries far on high frequency waves, serving as both a mating call and a communication of dominance.
Steam is rising from his flared nostrils as he tests the air. But just when he sets up for another call, his head lifts high as something appears to draw his attention downriver. I can see the tension ripple through his muscles, moments before he abruptly swings around and lopes off in the opposite direction, disappearing from sight.
Something spooked him.
It’s probably time I head back to the ranch anyway, it’s getting dark out and I don’t want to miss out on the enchiladas Ama promised for dinner.
As I swing my leg over the ATV I grabbed to come over here, I feel a prickle between my shoulder blades. I turn to look down the drive behind me but there’s nothing to be seen.
Then I start the engine, turn on the headlights, and aim for the trail back to the ranch.
Sloane
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
Sully raises his head and the expression on his face tells me my objections are going to go nowhere. Which really sucks, because in my situation—being at the mercy of someone else’s kindness—I really don’t have a voice.
“What do you mean?” he returns. “It makes perfect sense. I mean, you can stay here, of course, but I would think you’d welcome a place of your own.”
He’s right, I would. Don’t get me wrong, I love my uncle and his family—especially my little cousin—but it’s hard to find a peaceful moment in a busy household like this. I wouldn’t mind being able to put my feet up on my own table, picking my own TV shows, getting my morning coffee without needing to get dressed first.
However, moving into the vacant cabin at the ranch—two doors down from Dan—may not be a wise decision. I lived there before and the close proximity got me in trouble the first time.
“What about Mom?” I throw out in a last-ditch effort, even though I know it’s a losing battle.
“That’s the beauty of it,” my uncle points out. “The place has a spare bedroom. Aspen’s crib can fit into the primary one while Isobel is here. You wouldn’t have to worry about the little one if you had to work late or got called out in the middle of the night.”
“Only while Mom’s here though.”
“Right. But that gives you at least two more weeks to figure out a more permanent solution. Although, knowing your mother, I wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up staying longer.”
Yikes . I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
The last time Mom and I lived together was before I went to college and that was tumultuous, to say the least. Of course, I was barely out of my rebellious teens back then, but I’ve also lived on my own for about thirteen years now, and Mom and I both have strong personalities.
I foresee fireworks, but to be fair, I don’t think those can be avoided anyway. Such is the nature of my relationship with my mother. I know I used to balk at anyone comparing us, but the reality is, we are very much alike.
“Whose idea was this anyway?” I’m curious to know.
“Ama actually suggested it when I picked Aspen up from the ranch earlier this week,” Pippa contributes.
That makes me feel a little better. I was afraid my uncle might’ve brought it up at the ranch, which would’ve been a bit embarrassing. To be able to go into an arrangement like that, I would insist on a proper rental agreement. I’ll get my first paycheck at the end of next week, but I still have savings that will cover me for first and last month’s rent.
“I have to drop by the ranch tomorrow anyway, I’ll chat with her, find out what the terms are,” I concede.
I was hoping to talk logistics with Jonas tomorrow, but that’s related to this case.
This morning I was in the medical examiner’s office, witnessing the examination of the remains we found in the gorge. In his estimation, the bulk of the remains belonged to a young female between the ages of twelve and sixteen. She had some bone fractures, and her skull showed evidence of blunt force trauma, but the ME wasn’t comfortable drawing a conclusion as to whether the injuries indicated accidental or inflicted.
He felt she’d likely been down in the gorge for anywhere from six to nine months, but admitted most of that was based on what she was wearing. He explained the complexity of putting together all the different factors that go into determining an actual timeline is only compounded by the fact animals clearly had been at her body.
Her ethnicity was another thing he brought up, pointing out some of the facial bone structure, as well as some remnants of skin, which he felt might suggest a Native American ancestry.
The leg was a different matter altogether. According to the ME, it looked to be male; something about the femur being thicker, or wider. He also felt it had probably been down there longer. That information threw me for a loop. It doesn’t really fit the pattern I thought we might’ve bumped into.
Not that there is any concrete evidence at this point to even connect the girl’s remains to whatever happened with Chelsea, but I’m still going to proceed as if it does.
The ME wanted to consult with a forensic anthropologist. To have them take a look at all the remains and get their input on his findings before he makes up an official report. In the meantime, the sheriff felt there was enough cause to call in assistance from a dog team to see if there are more remains to be found in that gorge. He’s taking care of that, while I’m using what I learned from the autopsy to narrow down the long list of missing persons.
This girl, in particular, must have family still actively looking for her. So, I plan to dive back into the list of filed cases of the past twelve months I downloaded onto the department’s server after we finish dinner.
Aspen is already asleep, and should be good until about eleven when she usually wakes up for a feeding. That gives me about four hours of uninterrupted work.
“I’ll clean up,” I offer when I’ve finished most of my dinner and get to my feet.
I did my share of cooking in the days before I started my job, but I haven’t contributed a whole lot since. Doing after dinner cleanup is the least I can do.
It doesn’t take me long to rinse and load the dishes into the dishwasher. I’m just making a quick cup of tea to take upstairs when my phone rings.
Before I give myself a chance to consider if it’s wise, I pluck it off the charger on the counter and answer Dan’s call.
“Hey, sorry I ran off yesterday,” I start apologizing, as I slip out the back door for some privacy.
“No need. Did you get the picture I just sent you?”
“Picture? I don’t know, my phone was charging, let me see.”
I put the phone on speaker and open my messages. There’s a new one from Dan.
“Oh wow, look at him. He’s beautiful.”
The image is of an elk standing on the edge of the river, bathed in the orange hues of the sunset.
“That was not even an hour ago in front of my house up the road from you,” he informs me.
“For real? That’s amazing.”
“Yeah. I was looking at him, thinking I can’t wait to be sitting out on the porch, drinking a beer after work, and having this for a view.”
I find myself smiling because that sounds pretty amazing. I turn to my right, where the river is but I can’t see much of the view now, it’s pretty dark. Sully and Pippa opted to build their house perpendicular to the river, but Dan’s place is built parallel to the water.
“I bet,” I affirm. “How is the house coming along?”
“Roof is on, believe it or not, and I’m hoping to get the bulk of the interior framing done over the next four days. I took a few days off.”
“That sounds like a lot of work for four days.”
“Some of the guys are coming out to give me a hand. Still, it’s a tall order to get it all done. We’ll be able to put a decent dent in the work though.”
“That’s good. Talking about work…”
It’s tempting to stay out here, talking to him, but I really want to try and find the girl’s family.
“I hear you. Maybe sometime over the weekend, when you have a moment, pop up the road and share a beer and a sunset with me on the porch.”
I feel myself flush at his invitation but don’t allow myself to think too long before I answer.
“I think I’d like that.”
“Good. Night, Sloane.”
I can hear the smile in his voice and wonder if he can hear mine as well.
“Night.”
Ending the call, I save the image of the elk as wallpaper on my phone.