Hazardous Homecoming

Ruby said Peter was in the woods that day and she saw him there, crouching behind the bushes, watching them. Peter maintained he was not anywhere near the two girls the morning Alice disappeared. So who was telling the truth? A five-year-old girl who had seen Peter many times in those very woods? Or Peter, a fifteen-year-old boy who was supposed to be sweeping floors at the lumber mill but hadn’t shown up for work that day?

Ruby was just a child at the time, like Alice, he reminded himself.

But Peter was just a kid, too.

He slowed his pace and allowed Ruby to catch up while he breathed in the comfort of the forest, letting it soothe the angry thoughts away. Though he was loathe to do it, he forced some conversation to ease the distance he’d created between them. “The Umatilla National Park, where I work when I’m not on loan here, is thinking of thinning a stand of ponderosa pines to open up the canopy a bit. I’ve been doing the botanical surveys.”

Ruby nodded. “Find anything interesting?”

“A new species of wild carrot,” he said, glancing at her sideways. “You actually look interested. Most people put me into the crazy-plant-guy category when I tell them about the carrots.”

She sighed. “I’m in the crazy-bird-gal category so I guess I can sympathize. I wish I could explain it better to folks. It’s just that everything here makes sense, you know? Things live and die, sometimes so quietly we never even know they existed.”

He took her hand when she stumbled over a twisted log crossing the path. Instinct, he told himself, though he could not explain why her touch made his nerves jump. “Maybe that’s why you and I do what we do, right? To take notice. To record that quiet life.”

Her fingers felt very small and cold in his palm.

“I wish someone had recorded what happened to Alice. If only somebody knew.”

He squeezed her hand and watched the last light imprint sparks deep down in her irises. The words flowed out. “I’m thinking it will all come out, maybe soon.”

“Do you believe that?”

He smiled, and found he could answer truthfully. “Yes, I do. Maybe that’s why the locket’s turned up now.”

She gripped his hand with sudden ferocity. “It’s what I want, what I’ve always desperately wanted, but at the same time, it scares me.”

And way deep down, where the roots of his soul were anchored, it scared him also. He started to respond when a squeal caught his attention, the echoing sound of a window closing or a stubborn sliding door being wrenched ajar.

“Up that way,” he pointed. “Isn’t that where the Walkers used to live?”

“Josephine still does.” Yet they both knew Josephine was in the hospital.

He headed up a steep slope where there was barely a trail to be followed. Hardly a challenge for a guy who bushwhacked his way through acres of wilderness on a regular basis. Ruby, he noted, must have done her share of bushwhacking, too, as she stayed at his heels this time until they crested the slope together.

The Walkers’ cabin sat at the bottom, a wood-sided structure with a sagging roof. The yard around the place was home to a car that appeared not to have run in a very long time and a set of tools laced with rust.

A light glowed in the front window, through a gap in the curtains.

“It must be Lester,” Ruby said. “Alice was right, he really is home.”

She started down the uneven path that served as a walkway.

“Is this a good idea?” Cooper asked.

“I just want to ask him if he saw the locket and make sure he knows his wife is in the hospital. He might not have heard about Josephine’s stroke since he doesn’t have a phone.”

Cooper was never uncomfortable to be completely isolated, nor did he fear the darkness or anything in it, but something about the ramshackle house with the harsh light glaring through the curtains rattled him.

They hiked down, and Ruby knocked on the door. When no one answered, she called again. “Mr. Walker? It’s Ruby Hudson. I have some information for you. Can we talk?”

Nothing stirred inside.

“Mr. Walker?” Ruby tried again.

Cooper leaned close and whispered, his lips touching the tender softness of her earlobe. “He doesn’t want to talk to us. Let’s go.”

She shivered, perhaps from his whisper or the gathering cool of the evening, and followed him away. A moment later, they heard the squeal of the back sliding door.

Ruby set off in a jog. “I’ve got to tell him that locket has to go to the police.”

“No,” he called, but she trotted down the slope and disappeared through the densely clustered shrubs.

He followed after her, brushing aside the branches that obstructed his path. She stood, hands on hips, in the grass that had overtaken a broken birdbath filled with green water. “Where did he go?”

The sliding door was closed and Cooper peered into the darkened living room. “Seems like he could have just stayed inside and ignored us. No real reason to...” He felt a stirring in the air, a strange electricity that made him spin around.

Ruby stared at him with eyes round and terrified. A hooded figure wearing a bulky jacket embraced her from behind, one wiry arm around her shoulders and the other with a box cutter pressed to her neck, wicked steel against her creamy white throat.

FOUR

Ruby clung to the arm that circled her neck, feeling the hard muscles taut with anger and the edge of the blade pressing her windpipe. A man? A woman?

“Why are you here?” a voice whispered in her ear.

“I’m...” Ruby was too scared to push out any more words. She swallowed, trying again when Cooper stepped closer, palms up in a placating gesture. “Sorry if we scared you. We don’t want to cause trouble. Just looking for Lester Walker. Is that you?”

A grunt.

Cooper nodded. “Okay. Your wife is in the hospital right now. We were coming to give you the message.” He pointed to Ruby. “She was going to tell you. How about you let her go now?”

“How about,” her attacker snarled, breath hot on her neck, “I cut her throat?”

Cooper moved closer, his tone harder now. “You don’t want to do that. I understand you’re upset. Our fault for trespassing. We’ll take you to Josephine. No reason to hurt Ruby.”

The arm tightened around Ruby’s throat. “I think there’s every reason.”

“Lester, please. I know you suffered a terrible loss, but there’s new evidence. This time we found her locket.”

“Police and investigators can make evidence say whatever they want.”

The stranger’s grip tightened. Ruby struggled to breathe.

Everything happened in a blur. Cooper leaped forward. Lester loosened his hold a fraction, and Ruby stomped down hard on a foot. With a loud groan, Ruby was shoved forward into Cooper’s chest and they went over backward onto the ground. She could hear Lester running away.

Ruby felt the breath explode out of Cooper as her elbow drove into his stomach. He rolled away and was on his feet in one fluid movement.

“No, Cooper. Don’t go after him,” she yelled, shoving the hair from her face and trying to scramble to her feet. By the time she did, Cooper was already gone, disappeared into the dark stand of firs.

She listened, hearing nothing but the wild beating of her own heart as it knocked into her ribs. A cold wind seemed to reach through her skin and chill her from the inside out. With shaking fingers, she picked up her cell phone. No signal. It shouldn’t have surprised her. She moved to a spot farther away from the trees and managed to get a few bars and call 911.

When the dispatcher answered, she tried to corral her stampeding thoughts. “This is Ruby Hudson. A man, I think it was Lester Walker, attacked me with a knife on his property and...and Cooper Stokes took off after him.”

No she wasn’t hurt.

Yes, she was safe at the moment.

But what about Cooper?

She should go after him, but her brother would say summoning help was the most important task. Every minute wasted worsened the disaster.

Like every minute she’d spent calling for Alice that long-ago afternoon in the dark woods before she’d raced home to tell her family. Panic rose inside and she forced herself to talk slowly, though she wanted nothing more than to click off the phone and sprint after Cooper.

When she was through the litany of questions, she could stand no more. After promising the dispatcher she would head back to her house and wait for an officer, she pocketed the phone and made for the break in the trees. The sky was near black and the interlaced branches formed a living ceiling that crowded out the starlight. Pine needles cushioned her steps. She bit back a scream as a figure stepped through a gap in the branches. Cooper.

“It’s you,” she said, stupidly.

He did not seem injured, just winded. “Whoever that was, knows the woods better than I do. Lost me easily when the sun set. Runs like a deer.”

“It had to have been Lester.” Ruby put her hands on her hips. “Why did you do that? Run after him when he was obviously disturbed? That was crazy.”

Cooper blinked. “He held a blade to your throat.”

“And getting yourself stabbed would have erased that somehow?”

He moved close, his eyes gleaming silver in the gloaming. “Blade,” he repeated slowly, “to your throat.”

The fire in his eyes awakened a strange warmth in her body. Blood pounded through her veins, sending tingles through her stomach. “Misplaced gallantry.” Gallantry she did not deserve nor want.

“Not gallantry.” His shadow mingled with hers. “Justice.”

“There isn’t any justice, Cooper.” Her voice sounded so breathy and sad, she almost didn’t recognize it. “Haven’t you learned that by now?”

“Sometimes there is, Ruby, but it’s a long time in coming.” He reached out, and she held her breath as he plucked a twig from her hair and sent it floating to the ground.

Tears crowded her eyes. “After what happened to Alice and Peter, you should know better.”

“Whoever took Alice will get his punishment eventually. I’m just hoping I can do my bit to set things right now. If that means I have to step up and chase a crazy old guy now and then, I’m game for the challenge.”

He reached for her and his palms grazed her shoulders so tenderly, so tentatively, it weakened her.

“Cooper,” she breathed. “You scared me.”

“I’m honored that you care.” He trailed his fingers through her hair.

“I don’t...” She wanted to push closer, to keep him close, to trust him. Panic prickled her skin. She could not allow the strange thud of weakness to undo her. She jerked away. “What if you learn it was your brother who took Alice?”

He stiffened. “I won’t, because he didn’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I know my brother like you know yours.”

Pine needles drifted in the breeze, coming to rest at her feet. She was suddenly bone weary. “Sheriff’s people are going to meet me back at the house. You’d better come, too.”

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “One thing.” He tipped her chin back and leaned close.

Her eyes closed as his breath played over her neck. “Wanted to be sure he didn’t cut you.”

“I’m okay,” she said, but she could feel her knees trembling. From his touch? Or the aftermath of Lester’s rage? She was not sure as they picked their way through the trees.

* * *

Cooper answered all Sheriff Pickford’s questions as did Ruby until it was nearly ten o’clock and he could no longer suppress a yawn. Pickford promised to have his people find Lester Walker and bring him in.

“He’ll come back to the house sooner or later and we’ll get him. In the meantime, we’ll search the house for the locket.” Pickford eased his bulk out of the kitchen chair. “Need a ride back to your cabin, Cooper?”

“No, thanks. I’ll walk.”

Ruby shot him a look. “What if Lester is still out there and he finds you?”

“I’ll win him over with my easygoing charm.” Cooper enjoyed her exasperated eye roll.

“He has a knife.”

“A box cutter, actually,” Cooper said, “and I’m scrappy. I’m pretty sure I can take him.”

That elicited a laugh from Mick. “You would have made a good marine with that attitude.”

It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but at least Mick didn’t look murderous. Then again, why should he care? Mick would be thrilled to pin Alice’s disappearance on Peter. Not gonna happen, Hudsons.

Cooper watched Perry, who was silently sipping a cup of coffee. He had tracked every syllable of the police questioning without comment. Now his eyes shifted in thought. When he felt Cooper’s gaze on him, he offered a small smile.

“Mr. Hudson, do you know something about Lester Walker?”

Perry regarded Cooper calmly. “If I knew anything that would be of help, I would mention it.”

Pickford looked up from his notebook, eyes narrowed. “How about sharing everything, and I’ll decide if it would be helpful.”

Perry’s voice did not increase in volume, but it seemed to Cooper that the tension kicked up a notch. “My daughter was attacked, Sheriff. I’ve got every reason to cooperate.” He smiled. “No hidden secrets here. You know what I know.”

Pickford did not look convinced. Cooper wasn’t either. He wanted to push harder, to get past the sanctimonious surface of this perfect family patriarch. Instead, he excused himself, suddenly desperate for the solace of the forest. Ruby watched from the door as he left, so he gave her a wink and a jaunty wave. Mick put an arm on her shoulder and guided her back into the house. Keep away from Cooper and his brother, the gesture said. They’re bad people.

The injustice of it burned in him afresh. It had been a mistake to return to Silver Peak to check on the brother who he’d come to learn could not be saved by fraternal love. But that stubborn something rumbled inside him, that raw aching need to believe that maybe this time, unlike the hundred times before, would be the moment when Peter really did beat his addiction once and for all and grab hold of the life he had left.

But here in this small town would be the hardest place in the universe for Peter to face down the shadows of his past now that Alice Walker’s case had been reopened. Then again, maybe it was the only place where he would truly know he’d beaten back the darkness.

Cooper let himself into the dusty cabin. He called for his brother and once again received no reply. The night chill had crept in. The place offered only a stone fireplace for warmth and it was late to start a fire, but he trudged out to the woodpile anyway, the feverish energy inside his body telling him there would be no sleep forthcoming. Might as well warm up the place. Besides, the cramped space aggravated his claustrophobia.

There was no kindling that he could find, so he put the axe to use and split more logs than he could possibly need into small pieces. It felt good to swing the heavy blade. The motion soothed him, the way the axe reduced the mammoth mound of wood into manageable units. With an armful of kindling and a couple of gnarled logs, he headed back, picking his way along the moonlit path that he and his father had graveled over one unusually warm Oregon summer. He’d much rather have been out exploring the woods or eating ice cream in town, but as his father said, “Take care of family first.”

He shot a look at the vast dome of sky above him. I’m trying, Dad.

Each crunch of the gravel underfoot echoed with his father’s admonition and he wondered for the millionth time if he had done enough to care for Peter. Or, as he’d learned over the years, had he done too much? Encouragement and enabling were perilously close.

He shifted the wood in his arms to free up a hand to shove the door open. He was startled to find it already was. Had he left it ajar and the wind took it? Or could it be his prodigal brother who’d finally seen fit to return?

Could be either, but there was also Lester Walker to consider. Cooper eased the pile of wood down on the spongy ground and extracted one slender log from the jumble. Club-size, about eighteen inches long. Enough to protect himself against a box cutter if the easygoing-charm thing didn’t work out.

He pushed the door open with a foot. The interior was dark except for the light he’d left on in the kitchen. He eased inside.

“Peter?”

A figure emerged from the kitchen.

“Couldn’t have been more wrong,” he muttered, as the cabin lights snapped on and dazzled his vision.

FIVE

“You can put down the log,” a woman said with a smile. She wore a long jacket, her auburn hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m Heather Bradford.”

He recognized her as the reporter outside the police station after Josephine had her stroke. “You’re just here to burgle the place?”

A small, clean-shaven man with a thatch of dark hair stepped out of the kitchen. He was trim, in good shape, with the muscled body of a long-distance runner. “She didn’t break in. The door was open.”

“I forgot how relaxed the visiting policies are here in Oregon. If the door’s open, just invite yourself in and set a spell.” Cooper tossed the log he was holding into the fireplace. “Mind telling me who you are?”

“Hank Bradford, Heather’s father. I try to accompany her on these investigative missions. Can’t be too careful.” His eyes swept over Cooper. “Never know about folks.”

“Says the man standing in my cabin uninvited.”

“Sorry about that,” Heather said. “It was my idea to come. I knew you were staying with Peter for a while. You refused to talk to me via the phone. Thought I might persuade you in person.”

“How exactly did you know I was staying with Peter?”

“You two don’t talk much, I guess,” Heather said, with a sideways grin. “Peter and I connected a few months back. We’re friends, close friends. He works for my Dad.”

“I own a small café in Pine Cliffs,” Hank offered. Breakfast and lunch. Everything made from scratch and a new menu every day. Heather convinced me to hire Peter.”

“And why would you do that, exactly?” Cooper demanded. “Hire my brother, I mean?”

“I was a manager at the Spruce Lodge here in town years ago when you two were kids. Peter washed dishes there in the summers, so we knew each other.”

Cooper finally remembered.

Hank looked away for a moment before finishing. “Frankly, I always felt kind of sorry for Peter, being accused of that terrible crime. He was just a kid himself. Wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You were here when Alice was abducted?”

“Close. Had a small place couple towns over in the woods. Real quite and no neighbors. I ran the breakfast service for the Lodge. I was part of the search party that looked for Alice.”

“So you believe my brother is innocent?”

“Of course we do,” Heather answered.

Cooper thought he caught a quick flash of emotion in Hank’s eyes. He believed in Peter enough to give him a job, but Hank didn’t want his daughter making any kind of deep connection with Peter. Charity was one thing, watching your daughter seek out an alcoholic formerly accused of kidnapping was another. Frankly, Cooper would probably feel the same way if he were Hank.

“Heather, you’re not here as a friend. You’re looking to dig up a story, but that story brings my brother nothing but pain.”

She put her hands in her pockets. “Maybe things have changed. Maybe now the new developments will bring him vindication.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s your reason for digging into this, is it?”

She perched on the arm of the worn sofa. “Well yes, I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t be a great story to tell and help my career along. It’s been on my back burner for a while but now that it’s almost the twenty-year anniversary...”

Cooper felt sickened. As if it was some sort of event that should be trotted out to sell papers.

Hank put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s my fault. After I moved away, it upset Heather’s mother to hear about it so I didn’t say much. Every so often the police would have a stab at solving it again and one time they came to interview me. She overheard. I told them I’d always thought Peter got the short end of the stick.”

“So who do you believe did it?”

He and Heather exchanged a look.

Heather nodded at her father.

“Hudsons are covering up the truth,” Hank said. “I’ve always thought so.”

Heather nodded. “And I’m going to prove it, now that the locket’s been found.”

Cooper’s mind raced. Peter was innocent, he knew it in his bones. But the Hudsons guilty of hiding the truth? He didn’t believe it, yet there was the inexplicable tension between Pickford and the senior Hudson. And Mick had been questioned by the police about Alice’s disappearance, too. Was it possible?

“You don’t think it might have been Lester Walker?” Peter said.

Hank shrugged. “Dunno, but they checked him out thoroughly. He was buying some parts for his truck in Forestville when it happened, I think I remember. He loved his kid, from what I hear.”

“Where is Peter now?”

“At the café,” Heather said. “He’s worked some really long shifts and volunteered for extra hours. We have a small room in the back with a cot and he crashes there sometimes. He said he would head home after he got some shut-eye.”

Relief washed through him. It was a lot better than the scenarios he’d been cooking up in his mind. He wanted them to depart, to leave him in peace so he could crank up the jazz music, pace the cabin floor all night. He caught Heather’s eye and held it. “Look, I’ll think about it and give you a call, but I’m going to ask you flat out to leave Peter alone about this situation. You know he’s an alcoholic; I don’t want his sobriety threatened.”

Heather stood and raised her chin. “If I’m right, the truth will finally exonerate him. He will be able to look everyone in this town right in the eye and say, ‘You were wrong about me.’ That’s the one thing he’s craved all these years, isn’t it?”

Cooper didn’t answer.

She locked eyes on his. “He’s yearned for the truth to come out, that he’s not a child abductor or worse, and he’s tried to drown that yearning in booze.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Yeah? Well I think the truth will set Peter free. Are you prepared to stand in the way of that?”

He stared into the flat blue of her eyes. Was he? Was protecting his brother also keeping the truth about Alice shrouded in darkness?

“I’d like you to leave now,” he said. “Both of you.”

She nodded. “All right, but I’ll be back.”

He waited until they were gone before he set a match to the dry wood and blew on the tiny flame until the wood caught. The warmth seemed infinitesimal to dispel the cold that gripped him.

Jazz. He needed some jazz. Thinking music. He thumbed through his iPod to find some Charlie Parker tunes that would sooth him into a place where he could make some decisions.

* * *

It was a good two hours later when the door swung open to admit his brother.

“Coop,” Peter said, arms full of paper bags. “I’m home.”

Cooper performed the first action automatically, scanning his brother’s face, checking for the slack look, the bleary eyes, the aroma of alcohol as his brother put down the bags and grabbed him in a bear hug. When there were no indications that Peter had been drinking, Cooper felt the wash of guilt for his lack of trust. Would it always be like that? Distrust, guilt, disappointment? False hope? A real chance of healing? He let it go and returned his brother’s embrace.

“I was expecting you yesterday.”

Peter nodded, the dark blond hair grown long enough to touch his shoulders, deep creases on his tanned face. “Been working extra shifts at the café. Got dishpan hands, but earned some extra cash to get my car some new tires.”

“I got a visit from Heather. She told me you were working at her dad’s café.”

“Yeah. Cool that he gave me a job. Don’t exactly have much to offer in the way of work history on a resume.”