No One Knew (Noelle Marshall #2)

Chapter 1

Emma Chambers had never seen a dead body.

One of the boys at school had bragged that he’d seen a motorcycle rider hit by a semi.

His friends had circled around as he leaned against his locker, three down from Emma’s, the boys’ mouths hanging open, their eyes wide.

“So cool!” Emma had made eye contact with the storyteller.

He’d seen she was listening and cranked up the gore in his description.

The abrupt mental image had turned her stomach, and she’d dropped her gaze.

She’d hoisted her heavy anatomy and physiology textbook into her arms and slammed her locker door, turning away, knowing they watched as she left.

“Loser,” one of the boys had whispered.

“Her mother bailed on them,” had said another, not bothering to lower his voice.

At one time the comments would have made her face flush and her eyes water.

No more.

Remembering the hateful voices from last year, Emma sighed as she rode her bike along the quiet country road.

She shoved the incident out of her mind and sucked in deep breaths of clean air.

March in central Oregon was cold and crisp.

The air smelled like snow, but the bright-blue sky was clear.

Looking to the west, she saw the snowy peaks of the Cascade mountains and inhaled.

She was excited because in a few days, heavy snow was forecast.

She loved snow.

Silver flashed off to her right, and she stopped.

She laid down her bike and sidestepped down the road bank.

Coors Light again. She tipped the can, shook out a few drops, and then tossed it in her plastic bag.

Most of the cans in there were Coors Light.

Someone—most likely multiple someones—had enjoyed their drive along the winding road, casting cans every hundred yards or so.

She hauled herself back up the bank and was about to start pedaling when she realized that just yards away a red car approached, its electric motor rendering it nearly silent.

She recognized the driver.

Shit.

The small car stopped beside her, and the passenger window rolled down. Anita Forkner leaned across from the driver’s seat, her silver hair ruthlessly pulled back in a long ponytail. “Emma Chambers! Isn’t this a school day?”

“Yes, ma’am. But I’m homeschooled now. I have classes online this afternoon.”

A lie.

“Humph.” Anita narrowed her eyes at Emma, creating heavy lines between her brows. “Kids should be around other kids. This homeschooling fad is creating a bunch of unsocial pansies who can’t carry a decent conversation.”

Speechless, Emma nodded.

“Good to see that your parents taught you values.” Anita gestured at the bag of cans. “Not sitting around playing those damned video games all day.”

Emma nodded again, her face blank.

“Shouldn’t you have a driver’s license by now?” asked Anita with a frown at the beat-up bike.

“I got my license last year,” said Emma, not adding that there was no car for her to drive. She hated this old bike of her father’s, but at least she could get around. “Easier to spot cans by bike.”

“Say hello to your father for me. Continue.” Anita gave a regal wave, rolled up her window, and silently drove off.

Emma exhaled and rode on, keeping her ears tuned to the road behind her, not wanting to encounter any more nosy locals. Especially ones who knew her father.

A minute later, she turned off the pavement and onto a dirt track that led to a teenage party spot in the woods.

It often revealed a jackpot of recyclable cans and bottles.

She struggled through the deep ruts on her bike, finally dismounting and laying it down.

The track threaded among hundreds of lodgepole pines that had grown around the burned remains of old tree trunks.

She eventually reached a clearing covered with wide tire tracks and the blackened remains of campfires.

She began to pick up cans, shaking out drops of beer and chew spit, wishing she had gloves and cursing the people who’d thrown their cans in the fires, rendering them unreturnable.

Soon her garbage bag was nearly half full. She circled out into the denser, silent woods, finding smaller stashes of empty cans where nearby used condoms suggested that couples had hunkered down, wanting some privacy. A rustling made her spin around, and a jackrabbit raced past.

“Ohhh!” She ran after him, knowing she’d never catch up but wanting another glimpse of the long ears. She was rewarded when the hare scrambled over a fallen black snag. Emma ended her chase at the crumbling burned tree. It’d been stately at one time, the trunk nearly four feet in diameter.

Resigned to the jackrabbit’s disappearance, she scanned the forest floor for recyclables. Her gaze locked on a filthy Nike shoe, and she wondered if its owner had walked out of the forest with just one shoe. Enough beer could make it seem like a logical decision.

Then she saw the dark, mottled flesh. A color no living person could have. The body lay on its stomach, nude. She stood frozen as her gaze traveled up the body to its head. It faced away from Emma, dark, matted hair hiding its features.

Emma’s hours-old breakfast threatened to climb up her esophagus, and she clamped a dirty hand over her mouth.

Now I’ve seen a dead person.