The Severed Pines Page 2

  He mashed the 9 button to ring through to someone, but the call disconnected immediately after that.

  “Shit!”

  The moose all lifted their heads to study him.

  Ben raised a hand to block out the rising run. “Sorry, moose. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

  He didn’t think it would be wise to install cell phone towers across the park, but they sure would come in handy right about now.

  Ben turned back toward the cabin and descended the hill, considering his options. The only choice he had now was to return to the Kawuneeche visitor center, to hitch a ride to the park headquarters on the east side and report what he’d seen. It would take several hours to hike there, but what choice did he have?

  First, though, he needed to document the scene of the crime. Just like on those cop shows. If a mountain lion or bear came by, it might tear the body to shreds and spread the blood and other evidence everywhere. One animal could completely eradicate the entire scene.

  So, near the bottom of the hill, Ben headed toward the privy to take some photos. He started by snapping pics outside of the cabin, and of the privy.

  Then, with a deep swallow to steel his nerves, he opened the door to the privy to take some pictures of William.

  But the body was gone.

  Chapter Three

  Thirty minutes into his hike, Ben changed direction. The plan had been to hike west to Kawuneeche along the east inlet trail, and get a ride from there back to the park headquarters at Beaver Meadows. But the idea that a killer was still somewhere out here wandering around bothered him. With every step, he had to fight the urge to whip around and check behind him.

  The sounds of the woods all turned into the shuffle of footsteps. Bird calls and other animal noises echoed like the taunting whistles of a hunter on his trail. Harvey Bennett was not used to operating in a state of being such as this one. He wasn’t used to being chased.

  He turned off his walkie talkie. He hadn’t seen William’s walkie on him back at the cabin, so he had to assume the killer had taken it. Now, it wouldn’t be safe for Ben to use it — if the killer still out there, there was a good chance they were monitoring the radio. And, still no cell service, so unless he stumbled into another ranger on the trail, he was on his own.

  And then he developed a new idea. Somewhere else to go.

  When he made the choice to pivot east and join with the continental trail, he paused to consider his options. This would be difficult going, but it might be the best way to handle the situation.

  Of all his coworkers in the park, Ben trusted only one of them. Reese Goodall, a ranger who seemed to be in his late twenties, around Ben’s age. They’d become friends quickly and often worked together. Sure, Ben hadn’t put out much effort to get to know any of the other rangers or volunteers, but once he’d found a friend in Reese, Ben had mostly stopped trying to socialize.

  If anyone knew what to do, Reese would.

  Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. If he were being honest with himself the person who would best know what to do was a Navy SEAL, or Jack Reacher. Or even the guy from the show 24.

  But Ben didn’t have any of those people to call, and Reese was the only one he could call whom he trusted. The problem was that Reeese was currently stationed at a small outpost near Powell Peak along the continental divide trail. High-altitude hiking, much of it though snow. Even though Ben was now fully awake, his body already felt exhausted, as if at the end of a long day.

  “Last resort,” Ben said as he hiked along that trail. If cell service returned, maybe he wouldn’t need to hike to his friend. A call to Superintendent Taylor Snell or Assistant Superintendent Avery Krafft would tell him what to do next. Technically, this wasn’t Ben’s problem to solve. He was fairly confident if he researched his transfer paperwork from Yellowstone, he would not find “murder solving” among his listed responsibilities. Maybe that could be lumped under “other duties as needed,” but he doubted it.

  Yes, he should talk to someone high up. Hopefully soon his phone would start working and he could reach out for a lifeline. Otherwise, he would have to haul ass to make it all the way to Reese before sundown. Not the most ideal solution, but it was better than slogging to Kawuneeche.

  It also occurred to him that he would be above the tree line during the worst part of the day, the stormy afternoon. Not good to be on a mountaintop during a storm when you were the tallest thing around. And, given the cloud cover today, it seemed as though midday and afternoon storms were guaranteed.

  But this seemed like the right move, if he couldn’t reach the administrators. Find Reese, tell him what had happened to William, then they could hike back together.

  The next several hours passed by in a blur. He crossed paths with a few hikers and backpackers, and they would smile politely and chat about nearby landmarks or ask questions. Since Ben was in uniform, he didn’t have much choice other than to oblige them. He always answered what he could, but he wasn’t a Rocky Mountain expert after only spending one summer season here.

  When he stopped for lunch on a log by a rushing creek, Ben realized he hadn’t cleaned the privy William had died on. This brought a morbid smile to his lips. Probably won’t get in trouble for shirking this part of my duties.

  As he was packing out his trash from lunch, a twig snapped behind him. Ben turned to find a young guy with a hoodie standing twenty feet away, a strange look on his face. Then Ben noticed his fly was unzipped and one of his hands was hovering over by his crotch.

  “Shit,” the guy said. He wasn’t just young, he was a teenager. White kid, with big, surprised eyes, like those worn by a kid who had never been in the woods. “Sorry, man, I… uh.” The kid zipped up his fly.

  “Going to take a leak in the river?” Ben asked.

  “No, I mean, of course not.”

  “It’s fine.” He sighed. “I mean, it’s not fine. Don’t do it again — just find a tree somewhere away from a river, yeah? But I’m not going to say a word this time. Maybe you could wait until I leave, though, so I don’t have to make a note about it back at the park headquarters?”

  The kid relaxed, his shoulders falling back to a reasonable height. “Sure, sure. I can do that.”

  “Are you out here alone?” Ben asked.

  The kid nodded. “Just for now. My parents are back at the campsite.”

  “Make sure you get back to them fast, okay?” Ben stood and hitched his pack over his shoulders. “Be careful out here. There are a lot of dangerous things that can happen if no one knows where you are.”

  Ben hiked away, his walking stick clacking on the rocky earth. The kid watched him go, and Ben didn’t say anything else to him as he left. If the general park population knew about the murder, there would be panic.

  But again, that wasn’t his decision. Superintendent Taylor would make that call of what to do next.

  Ben spent much of the afternoon thinking about the timeline. He had discovered William and then hiked up the hillside to call for help. He’d spent no more than ten or fifteen minutes total away from the body. That meant whoever had taken him had seen Ben. No doubt about it. They knew he knew.

  It had freaked him out enough that he hadn’t spoken to anyone else all day. He’d ignored the day hikers and kept his head down. That was easy, since the rain drove most of them away. No thunderstorms, which was a lucky break.

  He checked his phone often, which never did improve beyond that one bar of service. Never connected enough to make a phone call. A couple times, he thought to ask a day hiker to use their phones, but he held back. No way to know who he could trust out here.

  Better to get to Reese and talk to him first.

  The continental divide trail was hard, but doable. Some snow lingered in patches, but not deep enough to require snowshoes. And the sky never did turn into thunderstorms, despite the regular pouring of rain.

  Ben reached the cabin at the base of Powell Peak just as the sun was beginning to dip behind the mountains
to the west. He rapped a hand on the door, making it rattle. No time for pleasantries.

  “Reese, open up. I have the most messed-up story you’ve ever heard.”

  A few seconds passed with nothing. No response, no shuffling of feet.

  A crazy vision filled Ben’s head. All the park rangers were dead. Zombie attack or spontaneous combustion virus sweeping through the park. It was a little odd that he hadn’t seen any other rangers all day long, despite being on a well-trafficked trail.

  No. There were no zombies.

  “Screw this,” he said as he fished the keys out of his pack. He found the ranger cabin skeleton key and opened the door. A silent, dark cabin welcomed him. No fire burning, no lanterns lit or night lights winking on in the dusk light.

  “Reese? You in here?”

  But there was no one home. A little residual warmth still emanated from the fireplace, but there was no one using it now.

  Ben dropped his pack on the floor and saw a notebook sitting on the kitchen table, open, with a note scrawled on the top page.

  To whom-

  Backpacker told me some animal destroyed trail marker signs near thunder lake. Having trouble getting response via walkie and cell phone service is kaput. Going to investigate, will be camping backcountry tonight and return tomorrow.

  -R

  Signed and dated below. Ben held the notebook up and read the note a few times. Each time his eyes tracked over the words, his heart sank a little further.

  “Damn it.”

  Thunder Lake was near the Wild Basin area, several hours from here by foot. No way could Ben find him tonight. No where to go in the interim that gave him any access to someone else who could help. He looked at the meager bed opposite the fireplace and readied himself to collect some firewood, which he could use for overnight warmth and to cook up some of whatever he could scrounge up in the cabin.

  Ben tossed and turned in the bed on the ranger cabin. Behind him, the fire crackled, giving the room an auburn glow. A flickering nightlight.

  During one brief interlude of sleep, a particular dream mangled his brain. This dream had been a recurring one for years, although the details had become hazier and hazier over time. In it he saw himself standing outside a tall building — the corporate headquarters for some multinational. But in the windows, Ben doesn’t see people. He sees bears and moose and mountain lions and raccoons and all other manner of creature.

  And the creatures are destroying each other. It’s a blood bath. Ben is at the front doors, trying to open it up to help the smaller animals, but he can’t pull the door handle. It’s slippery and he can’t quite grasp it.

  He was only half awake when the front door opened.

  A creak, and then a gentle thud. At first, he assumed it was part of his dream. He rolled over, and tried to ignore it. But his senses were suddenly on high alert. As his brain reached the surface of his consciousness, he awoke fully and listened again.

  It has to be Reese.

  He knew it was Reese. Who else would it be?

  He considered calling out, but then his vision adjusted and he focused on the area just in front of the door. And when he saw the figures — two of them — his brain snapped fully awake. Two people, both wearing hoodies that shrouded their faces, both of them carrying knives that glinted under the light of the fire. One was tall, thin. The other was also tall, hunched over slightly as they walked, as if their upper body was in a hurry to get somewhere but their lower body hadn’t gotten the message.

  The realization of his current predicament settled in like the shock of jumping off a pier into frigid water. A blast of understanding, then the heightened body sensation of adrenaline flooding as synapses fired.

  Ben whipped back the bedsheet and down comforter, and then snatched the first thing he could find. A metal pot, sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. He flung it in the direction of the attackers. The pot had been filled with water, which splashed across the floor as it sailed toward them. The pot smacked into the knee of one guy, who yelped as he bumped into the table and then hit the floor.

  Ben jumped to his feet as the other attacker sprinted at him. Fifteen feet of distance between them. Mind racing. There were knives in the kitchen area of this giant room but that was about it. Ben had some bear repellant in his pack, but it was buried deep among the layers of long underwear and backcountry cookware.

  Both of them have knives. This isn't going to be a fair fight.

  His best option was to reach the large carving knife in the wooden block in the kitchen. Even then, he wasn’t sure if he could take on two armed attackers, but something told him he wasn’t going to be able to reason with them. This was time to act, not barter.

  Ben pivoted and sprinted toward the kitchen. The carving knife out in the middle of the counter appeared to him like the Sword in the Stone — waiting longingly for its rightful owner. The attacker changed direction and was within seconds of beating him to it.

  When the guy neared within a few feet, Ben pivoted again. They were right next to each other. Ben threw his shoulder into the attacker, knocking him back into the wall. A plastic clock hanging above their heads slipped from its thumbtack and clanked on the floor.

  The other guy — the one Ben had hit with the pot—was rising to his feet. Two against one. Both of them still brandishing those knives.

  The nearest attacker raised the knife and drove it toward Ben. He got a split-second look at the man’s face. White guy, brown hair and light eyes from what he could tell in the darkness. Much of his face was still dark, but Ben looked right into those eyes and saw this man would kill him. The malice was written right there.

  Ben threw up his arm, his forearm connecting, blocking the knife just before it wedged into his shoulder blade. He used his leverage to knock the man back again, just as the other one entered his peripheral vision.

  Ben saw an open bag of sunflower seeds sitting on the counter. He snatched a handful of them and then whipped them up toward the attacker’s eyes. A couple of them landed, and the guy yelped and covered his eyes. He didn’t drop the knife, though. And he recovered in a manner of seconds.

  Ben jumped back to the other side of the kitchen. The carving block knife was between them. They were each about two feet away from it.

  The other one was still coming.

  No time. He couldn’t take two of them at once. Even with that carving knife, Ben didn’t trust himself to engage in a bladed fight against two attackers. This is crazy. He knew he had to get out of here, right now.

  Ben ducked and sprinted away from both of them, toward the front door. He had a ten-foot head start and momentum, and he managed to snatch his jacket from the back of a chair on his way to the open door. Everything else was still inside, on or next to the bed. He’d have to do without.

  He whipped the door back and leaped onto the porch. Still dark outside. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, or even what time it was.

  Out into the night, the cold swirled around him like water in the deep end of a pool. Feet shuffling behind. Voices, grunting, their knives no doubt slashing through the air as they chased. He broke from his paralysis and jumped down from the porch. There was a patted-down path back to the main trail, and Ben raced forward, ignoring everything else behind and to his sides. Tunnel vision.

  All Ben could think of was getting away, losing these two in the wilderness. Hoping he could find a way to survive the night.

  Chapter Four

  Shuffling in the grass awoke Ben. His eyes flicked open to see an elk padding through the valley across from him. Ten feet away. Spidery horns lashed out from its head, like Medusa but with sharp points instead of snakes. The creature’s long neck shifted toward him, paused, then it trotted away.

  As his sense came back, he heard the sounds of nearby rushing water, the feeling of icy dew in his hair, and the smell of the pines.

  Ben blinked a few times and twisted in the makeshift shelter of the bed of leaves. Not the best place t
o sleep, as he’d shivered for most of the night, waking him up every few minutes. Not to mention the prospect of those two knife-wielding assholes finding him. Tucked away in a thicket of trees, this was about as secluded as he could get out in the open. It’s not as if it would have been a smart idea to pick a random cave to sleep in. Best not to disturb any bears.

  But, the knife-wielders hadn’t found him and the sun was now beginning to rise. If they were going to look for him, they might wait until first light. Ben had a few minutes before the sun crested the peaks to the east.

  All of Ben’s gear was back at the cabin. Food, water purifier, walkie talkie, bear repellant, plus a few more layers to stop the shivering.

  He wasn’t sure exactly how far from the cabin he’d wandered, but he guessed a half-mile. The mad scramble in the middle of the night had been so haphazard, he wasn’t even sure at first which direction to head to get back.

  When he stood, his back ached and his legs burned. But that didn’t matter. He had to get the gear and set out to find someone he could trust to handle this William situation. That person would be Reese, hopefully, or maybe Ben would give up on that and head back to the park HQ. But, he had to be careful. It was safe to assume that since he’d seen the body and had been attacked, someone didn’t want this information getting out.

  As he rubbed his hands up and down his arms to create some heat, he set out toward the cabin. Along the way, shivering and cold, he found a sturdy stick that had broken at a sharpened point. He gripped it as he hiked. Not quite as intimidating as a knife, but if he came upon the two knife-wielding intruders, better to have it than nothing.

  But, he didn’t find them anywhere as he hiked back in the general direction of the cabin. The morning was quiet, with the occasional pika or marmot crossing his path. The sound of water guided him back to his destination, and Ben found it ten minutes after he started.