Forbidden Ground (Cold Creek #2)(56)
Considering how skilled Todd was at climbing, Grant was afraid someone could have tampered with his harness. Jace had interrogated Brad, but Brad had no access to Todd’s gear and basically didn’t know what he was doing. Despite having a motive to get rid of Todd, Jace had ruled the accident just that, and Grant agreed. However much Brad wanted the foreman job at the mill, he would not have hurt their old friend to get it, nor would he have chanced leaving himself dangling high in a tree.
Since Jace was busy with an investigation into Paul’s death and Todd’s accident, Grant hadn’t even mentioned that he was going to follow a possible lead about draft horses in a field up on this mountain.
“You might know,” Kate said, “this place is called Shadow Mountain, like someone’s hiding in the shadows who could have taken your tree. Even though the rain’s letting up, this place reminds me of something from the Brothers Grimm, where there’s a witch in the forest and an ogre under the bridge.”
Grant shook his head. “That sure cheers me up, Kate. Gabe said arresting the local timber thieves would be his top priority when he’s back. But it won’t be now since so much has happened. I can’t believe it’s been nine days since my maple was butchered, so the trail may have gone cold. Still, the idea of a team of draft horses up here, where the ground can’t be tilled, is worth a look.”
“Have you been driving around anywhere else, looking for traces or clues of other tree thefts, or leaving it up to Gabe?”
“All of the above, but we’ve found nothing. So far, that is, but I’m not giving up, especially now with what I see as a direct challenge to me—revenge, even. I don’t know. But there are so many old barns, wild woodlots and deserted places in these foothills and the Appalachians beyond that it’s needle-in-a-haystack time.”
As Grant drove them upward in his truck, the wet, twisting road became a single lane with sporadic pulloffs so vehicles could pass. He could tell Kate tried not to look over the steep sides when the view was straight down. “Plateau coming up here,” he told her. “I’d give you a hug, but need both hands on the wheel.”
“I’m fine.”
“That you are.”
The lay of the land slanted less steeply with a log-fenced, grassy field near the area Amber had mentioned. As they drove past a small farm with chickens and goats in ramshackle pens, Grant recalled who lived around the next bend in the road.
Lacey’s parents had a summer home—actually, a fairly crude log cabin—up here. Could that mean anything? But Lacey was into protecting trees.
“It didn’t hit me at first,” he said. “A little farther on, Lacey’s folks have a small retreat—not much of one, probably, by your standards. Kind of a hunting cabin. It’s just through that stretch of trees.”
She sat up straighter, turned toward him. “Can there be some link to them and the horses? I saw her folks in church. They’re not that old-looking, like they could handle large horses and chain saws. Do they hold a grudge against you for divorcing her?”
“She divorced me, and that was for the best for me, too. Her mother kept her mouth shut, but I heard she took my side and said Lacey was flighty and the two of them quarreled. Her father—she was a Daddy’s girl—reacted just the opposite, so he blamed me. I used to think he might come down and take potshots at my picture window.”
“What occupation was her dad in? Not a competitor to the mill?”
“Worked in a sporting-goods store halfway to Chillicothe. He was known for getting the biggest bucks during hunting season—always proud of having his picture in the Chillicothe Gazette. Look, it’s obvious this field is empty, and that tiny shed won’t hold more than those goats and chickens, but I want to stop and check the field anyway.”
“You’re looking for, let’s say, relics or artifacts that big horses would have left behind even if they’ve been moved on?”
“You got it.”
He pulled over and got out at the edge of the log-fenced field where it was shaded by a woodlot. In the light swirl of mist, Kate got out and followed him to the fence. Shorter than he was, she climbed on the lower rail and looked over.
“I smell it,” he said. “Horses—and a rat.”
“Me, too. And look, I see the horses’ calling cards in the grass. Someone might have moved the horses, but they could hardly clean this big field.”
“The hill folk call those ‘horse apples.’ So the draft horses were here and they’ve been moved—maybe for their next job hauling off a big tree. Let’s look around behind the outbuildings. My tree would be too big to hide intact, but maybe the thieves are cutting the trunk and limbs up here then moving them. Watch where you step.”
“No kidding.”
They ducked through the fence logs and stuck close to it where the grass seemed to be just grass. “Where’s the farmhouse?” she asked, keeping her voice down, though she wasn’t sure why. “It’s just a few run-down outbuildings?”
“I think it burned years ago, so the goats and chickens we saw may be a cover.”
The minute they walked behind the cluster of ramshackle buildings, they saw Grant was right. The ground was littered with so many wood chips, trails of sawdust and abandoned sawhorses that Grant swore and Kate gasped.