On Deadly Ground. Lauren Nichols
It was too soon for Patrolman Larry “Fish” Troutman’s arrival.
Striding to the window facing her driveway, Rachel cupped her hands against the glass. Headlights poked through the blanket of fog, then followed the winding lane past her camp store and tourist cabins. From Memorial Day weekend through Pennsylvania’s deer hunting season, light poles lit the way, but the holiday was still almost three weeks off—and the breaker for the lights was in the camp store.
The motion lights at the corners of her wood-sided ranch house clicked on. And Rachel’s anxiety dissolved when a green truck with a Pennsylvania Game Commission emblem on the door swung in beside her red Explorer and parked.
Startled to see him at this hour, but unable to stop the happy quickening of her pulse, Rachel tossed her fingertips through her straight sable bangs and shaggy cap cut—then went stone-still with guilt. Guilt and another emotion it shamed her to acknowledge.
Gathering her composure, she stepped outside to greet her unexpected visitor.
The early-May temperatures had been cool until yesterday when they reached the low seventies. Now, according to the round outdoor thermometer wired to the deck railing, it had dipped twenty degrees. A faint breeze ruffled the trees, carrying with it the fog-damp fragrances of earth, pine and fallen leaves.
“Jake?” she said when he’d exited his vehicle. “What are you doing here?”
He kept his voice low, but she could hear the concern in it. “I was driving back from a callout when your call came over the radio. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she returned, warmed by his concern despite her feelings of disloyalty. “Just a little on edge.”
Wildlife conservation officer Jake Campbell started up the flight of six steps, his dark brown hair attractively mussed. For a big man, he had a loose, confident way of moving and chiseled good looks that were a little grim until he smiled. He had good eyes, too, Rachel thought. Perceptive brown eyes that missed nothing. The dark green uniform jacket hanging open over his black T-shirt and jeans nearly concealed the sidearm on his hip.
“So what happened here tonight?” he asked when he’d reached her. “The dispatcher said something about a prowler and vandalism.”
She nodded. “The prowler part’s correct. Vandalism’s only a possibility right now.” She backtracked to bring him up to speed. “When we spoke last, I think I mentioned putting in a mini golf course on the strip of land I acquired a few months ago. A little putt-putt for the kids.”
“Yeah, you did.”
She indicated the foggy clearing beyond the trees. “Yesterday, Tim Decker dropped off his equipment because he’ll be leveling the land in the morning. He said it would be fine sitting there. Then a few minutes ago, I heard noises and went outside. Someone with a flashlight was messing around near Tim’s truck.” She paused. “When I yelled, he took off into the woods.”
Jake’s features lined and he sighed. “Rachel, you’re alone here. You should have stayed inside and called the police immediately.”
“I know. I thought of that after the fact.” But the past two years had forced her to become independent—and part of her liked it. “If David had been here, he would have handled it. But he isn’t, so it’s my job.”
Jake didn’t comment, but the troubled look in his eyes sent a clear message: He didn’t like that it was her job. “Did you get a good look at him?”
“Not really, considering the fog. But I know he was white, and he was wearing a dark hooded jacket with a light-colored emblem on the back of it.” She stilled as her mind re-created that split-second happening, then spoke hesitantly. “He was carrying something. Something light-colored that flapped when he ran. A bag, maybe.”
“If it was a bag, that says he expected to carry something away. Do you know if Decker left tools or anything portable behind?”
“I’m not sure. I hope not.”
Another set of headlights pierced the darkness and fog. This time, the vehicle was a black-and-white police cruiser, and the patrolman who got out was a tall, lanky young man in his mid-twenties with fire-red hair and a mouth full of silver braces. Fish was the youngest member of the department, and the one with the least experience. The thud of the cruiser’s door closing sounded hollow in the stillness.
“Hey, Rachel,” he said solemnly as he ascended the steps. “Emma Lu said you had some uninvited company tonight. You okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she assured him as he reached her. “Fish, have you met Jake Campbell? Jake’s—”
“The new W.C.O.,” Fish said cordially, clasping the hand Jake extended. “Our paths cross from time to time. Nice to see you again, Jake.”
“Same here, Fish.”
“You live around here?”
Rachel nearly smiled. It was a casual inquiry, but Fish obviously wondered why Jake was here at two-thirty in the morning. The amusement in Jake’s eyes told her he’d caught that unspoken question, too.
“About a mile up the road,” he replied. “I was coming home from a callout when I heard your dispatcher on the radio. Thought I’d see if my neighbor needed some help.”
Apparently satisfied with the answer, he smiled his approval and pulled out a notebook and pen. “Okay, Rachel, let’s take it from the top. First, can you give me a description of the guy? If it was a guy.”
Rachel told him everything she could remember, glad that Fish was on duty. With the Charity P.D. being small, there was a chance the new police chief would have responded. She’d only spoken to Lon Perris once since he’d pinned on the badge—the night of his welcoming dinner sponsored by the chamber of commerce. But she hadn’t come away from that conversation feeling warm and fuzzy. Chief Perris was … She searched for a word Reverend Landers would approve of. “Condescending” was the best she could do.
When she’d finished detailing what had happened, Fish made a final note, then tucked his pen and pad away. “Okay, I’ll take a look at the site and drive around the loops before I leave—make sure this guy isn’t coming back for a vehicle. You’re pretty far off the beaten path, so I doubt he got here on foot.” He chewed his lip. “You didn’t hear any engine sounds before Jake got here, right?”
“No.”
“Jake? See any vehicles on the road tonight?”
Jake wandered closer, his boots quiet on the plank floor. And Rachel felt another stir of attraction as she looked up at him. “No, and I was watching for them. But I came in from the other direction, not from town. Since the guy cut through the woods, he might have parked on one of the logging roads.”
“Yeah, he probably did.” Fish pulled a flashlight from a loop on his belt, then shone it in a wide arc over the construction site and campground. “Could have been a kid looking to siphon gas or steal tools. It’s a little early in the season for that stuff, but it happens.”
He tucked the light away and turned back to Rachel. “Like I said, I’ll check out the sites and loops, but it’s kind of hard to see now. I’ll be back in the morning for a better look, okay?”
“That’d be great,” she returned. “Thanks for coming. I know I should have told Emma to hold off sending you down here until daybreak, but I wanted to report the incident right away in case there are damages.”
“No problem,” he said, heading for the steps. He stopped then and glanced back. “One more thing. That logo or whatever it was on the back of the jacket? Can you describe it?”
Rachel hesitated. As descriptions went, it wasn’t the best. “It looked like a round head with rabbit ears. That’s probably not very helpful, but I only saw it for a second.”
“It’s a start,” Fish replied. He started down the steps,