Snow Creek(11)

My eyes land once more on the box of tapes, all waiting for me. Each tape is like a knife meant to cut me open and expose whatever’s inside.

One tape is enough for today. I doubt I could handle two.

I take my wine, and as I head for my bedroom, I hope with everything in my heart that none of what I revisited will come for me in my dreams.





Six





The man answering the phone at La Paloma the next morning is exceedingly polite. His English is perfect too. The connection between my landline and his phone, however, is less than ideal. I ask him if he can help me get in contact with the Wheatons, who are there from the States to volunteer at the orphanage.

“What group are they with?”

“No group,” I say. “I believe they came alone. Maybe two or three weeks ago.”

“Do you know what skills they were providing?”

I don’t, but then I think of the beautiful cherry dining table.

“Mr. Wheaton is a skilled carpenter. I don’t know about Mrs. Wheaton’s area of expertise or if she even had any.”

“Ah,” he said. “Hold on.”

The phone cracks and every now and then it seems like it might have disconnected. Lucky for me it didn’t.

He comes back on. “Sorry. No record. I searched our volunteer log and I see no mention of their request for credentials. Maybe it was another facility?”

“No,” I tell him. “This was the one the family mentioned.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help.”

I provide my contact information and tell him that if they should turn up then they need to call me.

“The family is very concerned,” I say.

Not that anyone but Ruth Turner is, though the children most certainly will be.

Their parents are indeed missing.

I log the information into the Missing Person’s report. I consider calling Ruth’s husband’s number, but I know she’s not home yet. I’ll let her know where we are tonight. I need to go back to the Wheaton place first and tell Joshua and Sarah.

I inform Sheriff Gray about what I’ve learned.

“Maybe they got in an accident?”

“Right. I’ll check on that before I leave.”

“Want me to ride out there with you?”

I almost take him up on the offer. I enjoy his company, but after listening to Dr. Albright’s tape last night I have some processing to do. Alone time is completely warranted.

“No. I’m fine. Just some kids. I’ll let them know what I found out and see if I can get anything more from them.”

I return to my office and update the Missing Person’s report with a query to law enforcement all along the West Coast from Bellingham, Washington to San Diego, California. It was possible they had been in an accident somewhere between here and parts unknown.

Just where were they headed?

Why did they tell their kids that story?



I fill up the Taurus and get a cup of passable coffee from the drive-thru before heading out to the Wheaton place. Jefferson County’s detective’s shield or not, Snow Creek is no place anyone wants to run out of gas for a myriad of reasons. One, no cell service, and two, no Good Samaritans to be had. It’s not that there aren’t good people. The people who live out there have done so to be left alone. Knocking on a door at night could find you greeted by the barrel end of a rifle.

I touch my county-issue in my shoulder harness.

She’s my best friend.

It’s a long drive, but it feels shorter without wintergreen filling my lungs and Ruth Turner’s anachronistic tale of how life should be. I know she’s not completely passive. After all, she drove all the way from Idaho to check on her sister. Then again, she left without waiting for an answer.

And she doesn’t have a phone of her own.

And a post office box is the preferred method of contact.

It’s like she’s Amish without a horse and buggy.

I find the Douglas fir covering over the driveway and I edge my Taurus onto the property. With a clear sky overhead, the scene is absolutely lovely, bucolic. No smears of rain on my windshield to cause me to lean forward to make out what’s in front of me. It’s truly beautiful.

Joshua and Sarah greet me at my car.

“Detective,” Joshua says. “You’re back so soon. Did you find out anything? Where’s Aunt Ruth?”

“Back in Idaho now,” I say.

They are wearing the same clothes as the day before, sans the beer T-shirt. This time Joshua is wearing a plain black T. Sarah’s hair is up in a messy bun held there by a large pink clasp.

“We didn’t even get to spend any real time with her,” Sarah says.

“Her husband needed her home,” I say.

Joshua gives his sister a look.

“Let’s go inside,” he says.

We find places at the table. This time I decline the tea that’s offered.

“I have some puzzling news.” I choose my words carefully. I feel immediately that puzzling was the wrong word. There was nothing really puzzling about it. It was what it was. “I’m afraid your folks never made it to La Paloma.”

“That’s crazy,” Joshua says.

“I’m sorry,” I say.