Читать книгу Triple Trouble: A Cassidy Callahan Novel - Kelly Rysten - Страница 9

Chapter 3

This wasn’t a good time to be heading for my camp. Night had already fallen and it took a little over an hour to reach Creekside Campground. It then took three hours to hike in. I headed east until I reached Millerton Road, took Route 138 east, then took the first turn off onto Route 2. This brought me up into the mountains and forty-five minutes later I was parked at Creekside Campground. I put the fourteen dollar camping fee into the drop box, hung my Adventure Pass on the Jeep’s rearview mirror then pulled my sleeping bag out from the back. I tended to disappear like this at a moments notice so I kept the pack and the sleeping bag in the Jeep, ready to go. I only took a tent if I was going somewhere else. I walked Shadow around a bit, popped the passenger seat back flat so he would have a bed and locked him in the Jeep. He used to sleep on the ground under the table, but after being attacked by raccoons he now slept in the car at night. I unrolled the sleeping bag on top of the picnic table and climbed in. I didn’t know what time it was and I didn’t care. I’d had a full day.

In the morning I woke up with the sun. I loved mornings in the mountains. The campground was always filled with the chatter of birds. That’s one thing I missed by hiking to my camp. The Stellars Jays, Gray Jays, sparrows and finches all seemed to prefer the campground where they could count on finding people food. Only the truly wild birds were found at my camp. I rolled up my sleeping bag, stuffed it in the Jeep again and drove down to the trailhead.

The trail out of Creekside Campground follows a pleasant little stream for several miles. After two miles, another stream flows into it, and this was where I left the trail. I climbed a rugged canyon, sometimes rock climbing, other times hiking. I crossed a few meadows and inched my way up short rocky cliffs. Eventually I reached a tall pine tree and a flat rock overlooking the creek and I was home; my home in the wilds. Shadow tagged along beside me. He always finds his own way up. Maybe I’d have had an easier time of it if I’d followed him, but I’d developed my own route and he’d developed his. He seems to know where we are going and occasionally he will beat me there and be sitting on the flat rock when I arrive. I ate trail mix and beef jerky as I hiked and when I got to camp, there was a stash of food in an ammo box.

Even from the flat rock the camp can’t be seen. The small area looks like a flash flood hit months ago. Two trees fell between two standing trees resulting in a perfect place to make a tent. I brought a huge tarp up one summer and anchored it over the two fallen trees. I cleared the floor area making it flat and smooth, then I covered the whole thing with branches. The forest grew up over it and now it just looks like a very wild patch of forest. There is no door. I lift a flap of tarp, usually having to search around a bit for it, and slide in. The inside is watertight and cozy. I keep a sleeping bag, my ammo box of food, several books, a fluorescent lantern, a large jug for water, and a tiny one-burner camp stove inside. My food cache is for three days, but I have stayed here for 10 days before living off the land part of that time. I like it up here. It is a rugged, lonely outpost. I have never seen another person up the canyon this far. Once I get about a quarter mile off the trail, the tourists seem to fade away.

Shadow and I have great fun up here. In the meadow, we play a stalking game. When the deer are in the meadow, we see how close we can get to them. Shadow creeps forward like a cat and when the deer look up he freezes. I do the same thing. One time I came close enough to touch a deer, but then Shadow appeared and the deer bolted, almost taking my head off in a jump of fright. The trouble is, Shadow tends to think of the deer as sheep and I tend to think of then as family. Skittish family, but always welcome in my neck of the woods.

Sometimes Shadow and I play hide and seek. I put him in a down stay and take off. I release him and he searches. He always finds me eventually, but not until I ease up and make myself visible. He is definitely a sight oriented dog.

Up here, life swells around me and the cares of the valley begin to melt away. The memory of Silva and Oscar was fading. The memory of Michaels, on the other hand, refused to fade. Every time I turned around, I wanted to show him something, a funny animal, how to set up a snare to catch dinner, a birdcall I had never been able to identify. That was strange, because even Jack had never been here. This was a place I went to be alone.

I hiked up the canyon, trying to enjoy the outdoors. The canyon got more rugged as I went upstream. More rock climbing and less hiking. There were little tumble down waterfalls and shady nooks in the rocks to stop and rest in. The water was frigid. It was snowmelt from the very tops of the mountain peaks.

When I got back to camp I fixed one of the backpacker dinners. I boiled some water on the tiny stove, then added it to a pouch of dehydrated food and waited. Beef stroganoff. Yummy. Backpacker food wasn’t my favorite but I was used to it. My favorite meal to eat up here was teriyaki steak. I’d mix up brown sugar, soy sauce and ginger in a mayonnaise jar, stuff a semi-frozen steak in and hike while it marinated. I always pictured all the doctors and dieticians out there cringing. I pictured my mother telling me I was going to die of food poisoning out in the mountains somewhere. When I got to camp I’d cook the steak over a campfire. It’s the best steak in the world. Today, backpacker food would do. It fit my lousy mood.

I found myself moping. This was the pits. Usually my camp was a place of refuge for me, but today it felt like a prison. Tomorrow I’d hike out and drive around in the mountains, maybe spend a night in one of the other campgrounds. Maybe Oscar had already made his appearance. Maybe he and Silva were safely locked up, waiting for trial. Perhaps I should consider heading back to town. It’s not like I would be in danger there. I just couldn’t go home. I had to admit though, another night on a picnic table held more appeal than a hotel.

After dinner, I laid down on the flat rock beside the stream, listening to the water rushing past. This was no burbling brook. This water was in a hurry and it was a steep downhill tumble all the way to the valley floor. I watched the stars come out. It was pitch black and I counted the constellations within view. Some of them were lost because there were too many stars. Shadow kept bringing me pinecones and dropping them on the rock. Every once in a while, I threw one away and he’d run after it. I never knew if he brought back the pinecone I threw or a different one. I wondered how he could even see them as they disappeared into the darkness.

I woke up in the middle of the night, still on the rock. It was chilly, so I crawled over to the hideout, lifted the flap for Shadow, and followed him in.

In the morning I didn’t know what time it was. The bird chatter was still going on but it sounded muffled to me. I peeked out from under the flap and was met with a blanket of white. The clouds had blown in from the coast, then hit the mountains and stopped. The wind pushed the clouds until they filled every nook and cranny of the woods. I was sure the few that made it over the mountains had dispersed, leaving the valley below sunny and warm. From town it would look like huge white breakers flowing over jagged rocks. From here, I was socked in. No hiking up the canyon, no stalking the deer. They would be hunkered down just like me. I could try and hike out if I wanted to fall and break my leg but no thanks. I wasn’t in that much of a hurry to get out of here.

Once, I did try to hike blindfolded. It had heightened the awareness in my feet. I always walked in the woods with my feet, not my eyes. Eyes are for seeing with, not for walking. My feet lead the way feeling the ground while my eyes watch things. I broaden my vision when I hike, taking in the big picture. When I settled into this way of looking at things, I saw deer deep in the forest. I saw movements and irregularities that signaled animals, people, and potential dangers. Most people walk down a trail and all they see is the trail. I see everything else while I follow my feet.

I let Shadow out and pulled back inside. I lit the lantern and started arranging things for a long wait. After a while, Shadow whined outside so I lifted the flap and let him in. His fur sparkled with moisture and the hideout filled with wet-dog smell. I dug out the books, three novels, a sketchbook and writing paper. I found my pocketknife and a hunk of wood I had stashed in a nook last time I was up here. I wasn’t much good at whittling, but it passed the time. I looked at the wood, trying to figure out if I was going for a duck or a dolphin. I couldn’t find any place on it that looked like a tail so I decided it was a duck.

I read one of the novels and packed it into the daypack. I’d take it home and bring one back that I hadn’t read yet. Days like this were precisely why I brought books up here. I ate backpacker food, trail mix, beef jerky. Had I been able to stand I would have paced. Instead I took a nap and ventured out of the hideout when nature called but scuttled back in as soon as possible. Cold was settling in. I wished I’d brought a jacket, but I hadn’t been careful with my packing as my thoughts had been centered on the events of the day. I’d be plenty warm in the sleeping bag but it might be a chilly hike out tomorrow. Day blended into night and night blended into day. I slept off and on, read off and on, and tried to sketch, but couldn’t think of what to draw. Michaels came to mind, but I was never good at drawing people, and wasn’t sure I’d remember his features right. I thought about drawing Jack and was saddened to think I definitely couldn’t remember his features well enough. When I thought of Jack it was his whole body and his face wasn’t clear. In my memory he was always doing something; flying, or driving, or walking through Disneyland, or chopping wood. We had gone camping together, but we hadn’t ventured out in the woods like this. The woods were my world and the sky was his.

I stuck my head out of the flap and it was daylight again. I wondered what time it was, glanced at the fog, and decided it was still morning. The fog was lighter. I could see trees and rocks several yards away. I could hike out today. My mood brightened and I pulled back inside to start packing up. I pulled all the food out of the ammo box and the daypack. I saved one meal leaving the rest in the ammo box for next time. I made sure the book I read was in the pack, rolled up the sleeping bag and stuffed in it a big plastic bag I kept for that purpose. I turned off the lantern, made sure the camp stove was off and cold and put it all back together with its little nest of pots and pans. Pretty soon the hideout was just as I’d found it. I put the daypack on and crawled out the flap and stood, easing out the aches from being cramped up for a whole day. One of these days I would have to dig out the floor and leave more head room in the hideout. The chill air settled around me. The fog teased me. I figured there would be less fog as I lost altitude so I headed down the canyon and trekked off into the woods. I decided maybe I’d follow Shadow down this time. He wasn’t good at rock climbing and I didn’t think rock climbing in the fog was a wise thing to do so I followed along behind as Shadow trotted through the undergrowth.

Shadow got his name because of his black and white coloring, but it was also a name that I could speak without drawing a lot of attention. When we were belly down in a meadow with a herd of deer close by a whispered “Shadow” blended in with the forest. Shadow also tended to follow me everywhere so he was like my own shadow in many ways. He picked his way down the mountain and when he was too far ahead and I couldn’t follow his lead, I’d call out to him. He’d quickly return for me acting as if I sure was a dumb sheep.

Halfway down the canyon the fog thickened again and I couldn’t see the ground in front of me. I started casting around for a place to hole up. I headed for the side of the canyon. I thought I remembered an overhang and an overhang could mean a cave. Wisdom said to stop and wait out the fog. Wisdom also said that if I found the overhang and it was a cave, there would probably be a critter in it. Shadow’s route down the canyon really was easier than mine, so I continued to pick my way along, feeling with my feet, gazing into the white blanket surrounding me. Shadow was the easiest thing to see in the fog because his black fur stood out, but as we walked along his fur became covered with water droplets until he looked like a sparkly ghost. When Shadow came back to check on me I’d swipe the droplets from his coat so I could follow him more easily.

We came to a crevasse where water had worn a trough in the rock. Shadow picked his way down and I followed keeping my hand against the rock wall of the canyon. Suddenly something moved underfoot, a rock turned and I rolled down the trough landing in a thicket at the bottom. Thorns poked when I moved, fog rolled around me, and everything else was still. No bird calls, no rustling noises. I tried to stand and the thorns closed in. I flexed my arms and the thorns bit into my skin. I curled into a crawl and inched out of the torture chamber on hands and knees. The thorns tore at the pack but I fought my way free. I stood up again, scratched and bleeding but whole. I really felt like I should stop and wait out the fog but now I had itchy scratches all over me and all I wanted was a shower. The knee of my pants was torn. The shoulder seam of my t-shirt was ripped. Wisdom is the better part of valor, but misery is better dealt with over a cup of hot chocolate and a toasty fire at home. I’d had my share of miserable hikes but this didn’t need to be one of them. I was going to get out of there and back to my own bed and my old routine. No more carjackers, kidnappers, shooting or fog. I was going home.

I had better luck with the rest of the canyon and when we hit the trail the fog began to thin. The hike back to Creekside was always faster than the hike in because it was almost all down hill. The two miles went by quickly and without mishap. I stumbled down the trailhead and heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of my Jeep.

I turned the rearview mirror so I could see myself and assessed the damage. Oh, man, there was no way I was going back to town looking like this. My black eye had faded a little but now I was covered with scratches from the top of my head to the tops of my shoes. I drove into the little town of Wrightwood, stopped at a convenience store, and bought a hairbrush and a bar of soap. I went to the public restrooms at a park and washed as well as I could in the icy water. My scratches stung like crazy when the soap and water hit them. I washed my hair in the sink until it was blonde again and then dried it with the hand dryers. After much brushing it settled down to a manageable mess. I stepped into a stall to change clothes only to realize I’d left my extra clothes at camp.

As soon as I left the mountains the weather turned sunny and warm. It was windy just like it always is when the clouds are coming in but the chill was mostly gone as I reached the outskirts of town.

I meandered around town until I pulled up to my house. The window was fixed but I saw the yellow tape and my heart suddenly felt heavy again.

I drove to the police station. I’d driven by it thousands of times, but I’d never been in there before. It was a modern gray stucco building located in the center of town. I walked through the double glass doors and approached the counter that filled one wall of a lobby area. I asked to see Michaels and took a seat on a chrome and plastic bench.

After a few minutes I saw Michaels look through the small window of a utilitarian, fake wood door. The door swung open and he strode across the room sitting on the bench facing me. He was grim-faced.

“What happened?” he said his voice sounding like thunder.

“It’s nothing, just a stupid accident on my part. I was just hoping I’d have my house back. Surely it hasn’t taken them this long to take a few finger prints.”

“Come in to my office and I’ll tell you about it.”

I followed him down a hall, around a corner and then down another hall. My skin prickled. I could feel eyes on the back of my head. People peered around corners and stuck their heads out of doorways as we walked by. What’s with these people? I was sure they were used to seeing all sorts of people walk down these halls. What was so interesting this time? Sure, my clothes were torn and I looked like I’d been in a fight with a giant pincushion, but all the looks seemed odd to me. Michaels didn’t seem to notice. He stopped at his office, entering through another fake wood door with a little window in it. Everything was utilitarian. His desk had stacks of files on one corner. All the walls were beige just like the rest of the station. He had a plant on his filing cabinet but it needed some real sunlight. Two chairs faced his desk. There weren’t any photos on his desk or pictures on the walls. He closed the door behind us and looked at me. Reaching out he touched the tear in the shoulder of my t-shirt taking in the rips, the scratches and the black eye.

“Now tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened. Nature just hasn’t been very kind to me this week. First I got carjacked and kidnapped and shot at. Then I hiked up into the hills. I was so lonely and the mountains felt so empty. I usually like it up there, but this time I couldn’t stand it. Then the fog closed in and I spent a whole day stuck in a little rat hole on the mountain. I tried to hike out on the third day and I slipped on a rock in the fog and fell into a thorn bush and here I am.” I shrugged, all part of being Cassidy “Trouble” Callahan. “But my house is still taped up and I can’t do anything and I don’t want to go back up there. I can find a place to stay but I was hoping my house would be there and…” I was babbling and was ashamed of it.

He reached out and I saw a big hug coming and then he checked himself. Instead he studied me. I felt his gaze go right through me and I toughened up inside. I adjusted my stance.

“Have a seat.”

I sat in the chair facing his desk while he folded himself into the other one. He turned it to face me. I was glad because I didn’t want that big desk stretching out between us.

He began, “Oscar didn’t show up till this morning.” Thank goodness for fog and thorn bushes, I thought. “Jefferson and Rubio were watching your house and everything went according to plan. He had a stolen car and a bank bag like Silva. He’s being questioned.” Michaels remembered something and walked around the desk, opened a drawer and removed a small object. He handed me my cell phone. “We took this off Silva at the trailer park. I don’t think he had a chance to call Oscar about the change in plans because picking up Oscar was easy.”

“Then why are they still investigating?”

“They should be done soon. When Oscar came to your house a neighbor walked up. They tried your door, walked around the side of the house. They waited for the neighbor to clear out before they nabbed Oscar. Let’s go see if they’re finished. Maybe I can get them to speed things up a bit.”

“I need to get back to my car anyway. Shadow is out there.”

I felt the eyes on us again as we exited the building.

Shadow started barking as soon as I stepped into view. He danced around on my car seat, wagging his tail and barking. I took him out on his leash and made him sit in the back. Michaels climbed in and we took off.

It didn’t take long to get to my house and there was little conversation as we rode along. Michaels seemed to be thoughtful. Like most guys, he probably preferred to drive. As we pulled onto my street they started taking the crime scene tape down. I pulled into the driveway and we all got out. Shadow ran for the front door.

“The window is fixed,” I pointed out.

“I thought the house should look normal when Oscar arrived. I didn’t think he’d stop if the place looked violated so I called a glass place and it was fixed the next morning.”

We entered the house and a sense of familiarity settled over me. I picked up a lamp that had fallen over and fingered the dent in the wall where my foot had almost penetrated when Silva threw me across the room. I found the plate that held Silva’s steak in the far back corner of my bedroom. It looked like Shadow finally got his dinner. I put the dishes that had been left out into the dishwasher. Things weren’t too bad, considering. I went out to the backyard and dragged the A-frame away from the back fence. If Silva could jump the fence from up there, Shadow could easily. Michaels glanced around the backyard.

“I need to mow.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t worry about that yet. You have a lot of other things you need to do first.”

“Like what?” I asked, curiously.

“Doesn’t all this bother you? You know we have teams of guys at the station. When someone has some violent crime committed against them they go in, find out how to help the victims and they put a work crew together. Sometimes it’s something easy. There’s a burglary and the victims would feel better with just a motion detector light. We install one for them. Maybe they were attacked from some creep hiding in their bushes. We can take out their bushes so they feel safe coming home again. That’s one reason it was easy to get your window fixed.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” I said, curling up in a corner of my couch.

“Do you have someone who can come stay with you?”

“I’ll be fine, really. Silva is caught. Oscar is caught. My window is fixed. My lamp didn’t even break and I’m surprised at that, the way I hit it.” Oops. Too much info. His expression softened and his eyes saddened. Next question, could he put all this behind him? I thought he’d be used to this, that it was routine police policy: get the job done, put it behind you. Now I wasn’t so sure.

“No, I don’t have someone who will come stay with me. We were stationed out at the base. I was Marines, Jack was Air Force. We were only married a short time. Does the name Jack Callahan mean anything to you?”

“Yeah,” he said, “He was a test pilot out there. A lot of the guys at work have friends out there. They spoke highly of Jack. Lots of them attended his funeral when his plane went down.”

“That was my Jack. My stint with the Marines ended shortly after we were married. We were worried, with him in one service and me in another that we’d get shipped in different directions so I didn’t sign up again. He was career so here’s where we stayed. We bought this house. Jack crashed. Now I’m in limbo. I’m doing okay for now. I’ve just been spinning my wheels, building junk for my backyard, training Shadow, camping a lot. Eventually I’ll have to get a job, but I don’t know what kind that would be. There’s not much use for a cowgirl, Marine, tracker.”

“The pictures on the mantel?”

“That’s Jack and me. Some of the pictures are of my mom and dad, sister and brother-in-law and their two kids. That’s my family. They live in the central part of the state. They have a big ranch. They’ve all got each other and I’ve always been a loner.”

“You shouldn’t be that much of a loner.”

“How’d it go with your girlfriend?”

“My girlfriend?”

“The one you were going to cook dinner for.”

“You know I don’t really have a girlfriend.”

“I do?”

“Cassidy, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Jamaica Mistake?”

“Not yet, but I’m a little worried that I might.”

And that is how I met Rusty Michaels.