Silent Witness

The stable door was ajar and as she stepped inside, the interior was dark and smelly. Shadowy horse stalls stretched the length of the building on both sides. As she stood there searching for any flicker of movement, a hushed, dusty silence greeted her.

She knew calling out Scotty’s name was a wasted effort. If the deaf boy wasn’t looking in her direction, he wouldn’t even know she was there. Once more, if he was deliberately hiding from her, he wouldn’t give himself away. The open stable door and small windows at both ends of the stable were the only source of a feeble light.

As she walked past the stalls, she could see inside each one because the half doors were hanging open.

All the stalls were empty.

She saw a door ajar on one side of the stable that looked as if it might open into a tack room. Maybe that’s where Scotty was hiding. She pushed the door fully open and stepped inside.

A high narrow window gave shadowy light to the small room and she could see bridles and harnesses hanging from ceiling hooks. Saddles of various kinds were mounted on wooden racks and a long table was loaded with ropes, saddle blankets and various tool kits. It was obvious to Marian from the stacks of boxes and clutter that the room was being used for storage now that there were no horses stabled there.

As she looked around, her gaze settled on some feed sacks piled in one corner. At first she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her when they registered the slight movement as a small head ducked down behind one of the sacks.

Scotty! Instant relief sped through her. She’d found him! Everything was under control. She’d lay down firm rules and consequences and keep a tighter rein on him. Since she’d gone out on a limb to include Scotty in the program, no one needed to know about this little escapade.

When she pulled away one of the sacks, she exposed his cowering body and was stunned by the look of terror that flashed in his eyes. She realized the boy was trembling with fright. Her anger quickly dissipated.

“It’s all right, Scotty,” she mouthed as she bent close enough for him to read her lips. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”

He shook his head in denial. His eyes were wide and filled with fear.

“I’m not going to punish you.” She guessed that he was probably expecting the kind of discipline heaped on him by an abusive father and drug-addicted mother. No wonder his first reaction was to hide from any authority figure. “We’ll talk. Now let’s go back to the house.”

“No.”

He drew back and she wasn’t prepared for this kind of rebellion. “What do you mean, no? You’ll do as I say.”

His fearful eyes darted to the door of the tack room. “Have to hide.”

Hide? What was he talking about? He’d been hiding from her and she’d found him.

“Why do you have to hide, Scotty?” She mouthed the question with deliberate slowness.

“They might find me!”

As she searched his fearful expression, she realized he hadn’t been hiding from her. Maybe he hadn’t even seen her coming toward the stable. “Who might find you, Scotty?”

“The one who did it.” He grabbed her hand and held on to it as if some unseen hands were trying to pull him away from her.

As the terrified eleven-year-old boy clung to her, she knew with sickening certainty he wasn’t making something up. No child could pretend the kind of fear she saw in his eyes.

“The one who did what, Scotty?”

He swallowed hard. “Killed the man.”

“What man, Scotty? Tell me where you were.”

“The small house…by the creek,” he mumbled.

She knew there was a log cabin on the estate about a mile downstream. A kind of guesthouse. As far as she knew, the place wasn’t being used this summer.

“You were inside the little house?”

“But I didn’t take nothing,” he said with a rush.

“Tell me exactly what you did do, Scotty. Everything.”

He kept his hand in hers as he told her about breaking a window, trashing the kitchen and going to hunt for some loot in the rest of the house.

“Then I saw the dead man and ran.” He fixed terrified eyes on her face. “I ran before they caught me.”

“Who, Scotty? Who was there?”

He shook his head.

“Are you sure there was someone?”

He raised tear-filled eyes to hers. “I felt them coming around the house. The boards moved. We have to hide.”

“No, Scotty,” she said with a sickening plunge of her stomach. “We have to call the police.”

Chapter Two

The Rock Creek Police Department was a stone building just off Main Street. Detective Ryan Darnell was sitting at a scarred desk in his small office when the switchboard relayed a call to him. At first, Ryan didn’t understand exactly what kind of crime the woman was reporting.

“My name is Marian Richards. I’m the director of an outreach program for hearing-impaired children. We are in residence at the Wentworth estate for the summer. I have a situation here that I need you to look into as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. He had heard something about old lady Wentworth letting some nonprofit foundation use the property. Apparently she’d hired a female executive to run it. Ryan pictured the caller as a middle-aged, uptight spinster used to ordering people around.

“What kind of situation would that be?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. He wasn’t about to drive five miles up a canyon road because some authoritative director didn’t want to take care of some piddling matter.

“I think there may have been a crime committed on the property.”

“You don’t know for sure?” Ryan’s tone was slightly mocking.

“No, I don’t. That’s why I’m calling you,” she replied impatiently. “I need someone to investigate.”

“What kind of crime are we talking about?”

“I’m not sure…maybe murder.”

Ryan’s chair came forward with a thump. “Murder!”

AS RYAN DROVE to the Wentworth estate up the mountain road winding through Prospect Canyon, he had the feeling he was wasting his time. The three-story stone mansion and extensive property had been vacant for over a year and he was curious who had persuaded Alva Wentworth, a wealthy widow, to let a charitable foundation use it for the summer. He’d heard that a Denver lawyer, Arthur Kennedy, who was overseeing the project, had been paying regular visits to Alva in a Rock Creek nursing home. Apparently there weren’t any legal problems turning the estate into a retreat for children with hearing problems, but Ryan was willing to bet the isolated rugged property would create plenty of headaches for those in charge of the program. He just hoped this wouldn’t include a series of SOS calls to the Rock Creek Police Department.

A simple sign, Private Property, identified a fork in the road and Ryan took the one that wound through thick stands of ponderosa pine and aspens. In about a quarter of a mile, an open gate to the estate came into view.

Even though Ryan had been there on some occasions during his growing-up years in Rock Creek, he still found the stone mansion set against the backdrop of rising mountain slopes very impressive.

As he drove the police car to the front entrance, he saw a woman and a scowling boy sitting on the steps. Obviously waiting for him, they stood up as he got out of the police car.

Ryan’s mental picture of Marian Richards underwent an immediate revision. She was young and pretty enough to attract his attention under any circumstances. Reddish-blond hair fell softly around her face and a soft green summer dress revealed a feminine figure that could have graced any fashion magazine.

“Thank you for coming, Detective,” she said as she walked down the front steps to meet him. “I’m Marian Richards.”

Something in the way her glance swept over him gave the impression that she was expecting someone older and wearing a uniform instead of casual brown slacks and a summer knit pullover open at the neck. He only wore a jacket when it was necessary to hide a shoulder holster and gun, which he kept in the car’s compartment until needed. He knew his tanned face and arms betrayed the free moments he spent outdoors riding his sorrel mare.

“Detective Ryan Darnell. Glad to be of service,” he responded in the same professional tone she had used. He could be as formal as any highbrow when it suited his purposes.

“And this is Scotty Tanner,” she said, motioning the boy forward. “He reads lips and will be able to answer your questions if you look directly at him, speak slowly and evenly.”

Since Ryan had grown up with an older cousin who had lost his hearing, her instructions were hardly necessary, but he nodded and did as she had instructed.

“Hello, Scotty.”

A belligerent glare was all he got in return, making it quite clear what the boy’s experience with the law must have been.

He’s a tough one, all right, Ryan thought. He suspected the kid had created some kind of incident that had gotten out of hand and he was trying to cover it up with a bigger story. In any case, Ryan decided he wasn’t going to waste time trying to get the initial information from him.

“Why don’t you tell me what this is about, Miss Richards.” He’d taken note that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and guessed she must be in her thirties to have the position of director.

For a moment she worried her lower lip as if she wasn’t quite sure where to begin. Then she said in a firm voice, “Scotty was not where he was supposed to be. I went looking for him. No one in the house had seen him so I checked the grounds and garage. I was heading for the small barn, when I saw him dashing into the stable. I hurried after him and found him hiding in the tack room. He was clearly shaken up.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Apparently he had left the grounds. There’s a small cabin on the property.”

“I know where it is,” he offered quickly. “About a half mile downstream.” He’d even spent a night or two there on occasion in high school with some other guys when Alva’s grandson, Stanley, had been living with his grandmother.

“Did Scotty break in? Is that what this is about?” Ryan suspected the boy swiped something out of the cabin and made up a story to cover his tracks.

“I didn’t bring you way out here because of a little pilfering,” she answered shortly. “I called you because Scotty said he saw a dead man lying on the floor in the front room.”

“And you believe him?”

Her brown eyes snapped with impatience. “Yes, I do. Scotty was frightened because somebody else was there, too.”

“Who?”

“He didn’t see them but he felt the vibration of footsteps on the deck and ran.” Her flashing eyes dared him to make light of the boy’s story.

“All right. Let’s take a look.” He knew nothing more would be gained by questioning either of them further. “We’ll drive around to the cabin. It’ll be quicker than hiking.”

“I didn’t know there was a road to the cabin.”

“It goes a little ways past the mansion and then drops down to the cabin and the creek.”

“Does Scotty have to go?” she asked, showing resistance to the idea. “I hate putting him through any more trauma.”

“Finding out the real situation is the first priority, Miss Richards,” Ryan countered flatly. He wasn’t indifferent to the boy’s feelings, but it couldn’t be helped. If Scotty was making up the whole tale, he’d give himself away and put an end to this whole charade.

“You don’t believe him about the body, do you?” she asked, fixing accusing honey-brown eyes on him.

“It’s not my job to believe anything until I have evidence to support it,” he replied evenly. “We need to verify how much, if any, of Scotty’s story is true. But you don’t have to go—”

“Yes, I do,” she corrected curtly. “At the moment, I have to give this first priority.” Turning to Scotty, she slowly mouthed the words telling him they were going for a ride in the car.

Swallowing hard, he asked in a wavering voice, “Am I going to jail?”

She shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile. “No. We just want to find out…who frightened you.”

She put her arm around his shoulders, and they followed Ryan to the car. After guiding Scotty into the backseat, she quickly took her place beside him. Ryan closed the door behind them and there was a heavy silence in the car as he drove away from the mansion.

When he glanced in the rearview mirror, he could see worried lines on her forehead and he wondered what she was thinking. Marian Richards seemed too young and vulnerable to have the responsibility that went with a job like this one.

The nervous smile she gave Scotty seemed forced, and he’d bet anything she was really worried about being away from the mansion for any length of time. Hers must be a heavy responsibility. He hoped for her sake that this incident wasn’t going to throw her job into any kind of crisis.

As the road mounted a slight incline, he could see the cabin below nestled in a drift of aspen trees near the stream. The place looked deserted, but it was evident that some of the encroaching undergrowth and overhanging trees had been trimmed in order to keep the narrow road passable. Ryan decided to stop a short distance above the cabin so there wouldn’t be any chance of disturbing any crime-scene evidence around it. He took out his shoulder holster and gun and put it on before getting out of the car.

“I want you two to stay here while I have a look around.” Then he spoke slowly and directly to the boy. “How did you get in, Scotty?”

“I—I broke a window…in the back.”

“And then?”

“I climbed in.” The boy clenched his small fists as if ready to defend himself. “Then I got mad and trashed the kitchen.”

“What do you mean trashed?”

“Knocked a bunch of stuff onto the floor.”

“So you made a lot of noise?”

“I guess so.”

“And nobody came?”

He shook his head.

“What did you do then?”

Scotty looked at Marian as if seeking reassurance. She nodded and repeated, “What did you do then, Scotty?”

“I went into the other room.”

“The one with the front door and large window?” Ryan prompted.

Scotty nodded. “And he was there.”

“Who, Scotty?”

“The dead guy! On the floor! In front of the fireplace!” he yelled as if it was Ryan who was hard of hearing.

For the first time, Ryan believed Scotty was telling the truth. No pretense. No hint of lying. Nothing false about the boy’s behavior. His eyes were rounded with honest fear.

“All right. Stay here. I’ll check it out.”

As Ryan quickly headed down the wooded slope to the log structure, his detective expertise immediately dictated his actions. He needed to verify if he was dealing with a crime scene and if so protect it from contamination. He slipped on his gloves as he approached the front door, which Scotty said had been locked.

He tried the doorknob in a way so as not to disturb any fingerprints. It was still locked.

Carefully making his way around to the back door, he searched for any signs of shoe prints on the deck but couldn’t see any with the naked eye. Jagged shards of broken glass and an open window verified Scotty’s entrance into the house, but when Ryan tried the back door it swung open easily.

The kitchen looked trashed, all right. Ryan tried not to touch anything as he carefully stepped past the clutter. He was treating everything about the cabin as a crime scene and drew his revolver when he reached the doorway of the living room, ready for any unexpected confrontation.

As his eyes surveyed the pleasant room filled with knotty-pine furniture, the only sound was the creaking of old timber settling in the log walls.

He slowly moved forward to a position in the room where he could see the fireplace. Since he was expecting to see a body lying there, he stared at the bare planked floor for a long minute in disbelief.

There wasn’t any body! There wasn’t any blood. There wasn’t any sign that there had ever been a dead man lying there.

Chapter Three

When Marian saw Ryan coming up the slope toward them, she hurried forward to meet him. The glower on the detective’s face wasn’t reassuring.

“Did you find anything?”

“No,” Ryan answered shortly. “I checked the whole cabin. No sign of a struggle. Nothing out of place except for a mess in the kitchen.”

“Scotty told you he did that,” she reminded him quickly.

“No sign of a body.” He looked directly at Scotty. “Either there never was one or it has disappeared somehow.”

Marian could tell from his tone which one of the two possibilities he believed. Remembering how terrified Scotty had been when she found him hiding, she was convinced the boy wasn’t making up the story.

“Scotty’s telling the truth,” she said firmly. “He saw something or someone. And he felt vibrations of someone walking on the wooden deck.”

“All right, we’ll go with that for the moment. I’ll take you two back to the mansion and alert our forensic crime-scene investigator to take a look. He’ll tell us in quick order if there’s any evidence in the cabin to support Scotty’s story.”

On the return trip to the mansion, Marian’s thoughts were a mixture of frustration, apprehension and impatience. As she stared at the back of Ryan’s handsome dark head, she wished she could be privy to the thoughts whirling there. Obviously, the detective had deep reservations about accepting Scotty’s story at face value.

If she hadn’t witnessed the boy’s panicked fear herself, she might have suspected he was making up the story to divert attention from himself. She could handle a boyish prank, but what frightened her was the impact all this was going to have on her summer program if his terror was real.

“Will it be possible to keep this low-key? I mean, until your investigator takes a look at the cabin and knows something for sure?” she asked when they reached the mansion.

“Let’s not cross any bridges yet. Toby Bower is one of the best and if he says we have a crime scene, it’s out of my hands.” He softened his tone. “He’ll collect as much evidence as he can and take his findings back to the crime lab. Maybe he’ll come up with something and maybe he won’t. Until we know for sure, I’d advise you and Scotty to remain mum about what is going on.”

She nodded in agreement, trying to keep the anxiety building inside from showing.

“I’m going back to the cabin now to wait for Toby.”

“And you’ll come back and tell me what he finds?” She knew her tone was more of a statement than a request, but she couldn’t help it.

His mouth curved in a slight smile. “Yes, ma’am. I certainly will.”

The way his dark blue eyes briefly locked with hers brought an unexpected warmth to her face. She quickly turned away, impatient with herself for reacting to his practiced charm. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the good-looking detective could wind women around his little finger whenever it pleased him.

She watched him drive away and then turned to Scotty. Putting her hands on his thin shoulders, she faced him squarely. “Don’t tell anyone where we’ve been. Nobody. Understand?”

“I won’t say nothing.”

“Good.”

As they came in the front door, the children were just trooping upstairs for a rest period. After telling Scotty to go upstairs with the others, she motioned to Rob, who was monitoring the group.

“Make sure Scotty stays resting on his bunk, Rob.”

“What’s the matter?” the teacher asked, raising an inquiring eyebrow. “Where’d you find him?”

“I’ll tell you later,” she lied and turned away before he could say anything more. She certainly was going to take the detective’s advice and not share the unbelievable events of the afternoon with anyone. Just imagining what the fallout might be sent a nervous prickling up her spine.

She turned in a different direction and entered a small room next to the library that she’d chosen for her office. She groaned when she saw the telephone on her desk blinking, a stack of invoices still waiting on her desk for attention and information the Denver lawyer had requested ASAP still unanswered.

As disciplined as she usually was, she struggled to concentrate on catching up with her work. She couldn’t help wondering what was happening at the cabin. What would the forensic detective find? Her stomach tightened with apprehension. How had a wonderful career opportunity suddenly become a threatening nightmare?

Could she trust the handsome Ryan Darnell? Even though he was obviously dedicated to doing everything by the book, he’d displayed a genuine concern for handling the situation as sensitively as possible. She appreciated that he hadn’t put Scotty through an intense grilling. No doubt that would come later if the forensic investigation found anything relevant to the boy’s story.

Marian knew that she was at a disadvantage not knowing how small-town police enforcement worked. She certainly hadn’t expected to meet a well-built, nicely tanned man who looked like a handsome movie star assigned to play the part of a policeman. The way his cobalt-blue eyes could soften as he looked at her was totally unnerving. And what was worse, the gentle way he put his hands on Scotty made her own skin prickle.

She gave herself a mental shake. She was through with such foolishness. Her last romantic liaison had been several years ago and had ended with a pathetic whimper. Her total relief at being free again had been a warning that she didn’t need a man to fulfill her life. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake again no matter how many charming men like Ryan Darnell crossed her path.

RYAN WALKED TOWARD Toby’s forensic van as the investigator parked behind Ryan’s car. The small, energetic man in his forties had been in the Denver CSI office until a couple of years ago. He’d been born in New York City and had always worked out of a metropolitan coroner’s office until he spent a vacation in Rock Creek and decided to settle in the small town as its only CSI investigator. Toby kept his light brown hair cut short and always wore a gray baseball hat and overalls when on duty.

Ryan admired the man’s powers of observation, insatiable curiosity and dedication. “Thanks for coming right out, Toby.”

“What do we have?” he asked, shifting a carryall that contained all his portable forensic paraphernalia.

“Maybe we have a crime scene and maybe we don’t.”

“Sounds interesting.”

Quickly, Ryan elaborated on the information he’d given Toby earlier on the phone. “My gut feeling is the boy is telling the truth, but I need you to verify it.”

“Well, let’s have a look,” Toby responded with obvious interest as they walked down to the cabin.

Ryan stayed out of the way as Toby collected fingerprints from doorknobs, windowsills, and possible shoe prints on the deck and on the ground around the cabin.

Inside, Toby photographed the kitchen, front room, two small bedrooms and bathroom. He even took myriad photos of the wooden floors.

“Sometimes the camera picks up dust images that are not visible to the naked eye,” Toby said as he carefully put the camera back in his carryall.

Ryan nodded in agreement. When he’d taken a couple of forensic classes at the Denver Police Academy, he’d found the work interesting, but had decided a crime laboratory wasn’t the place he wanted to spend his days.

Toby shook his head when he’d finished doing everything that might offer a clue to what had really happened—if anything. “I really can’t declare this a crime scene unless some evidence turns up to indicate there’s been a felony of some kind.”

“I know we can’t launch a full investigation until we have something concrete,” Ryan replied quickly. “But my concern is the boy may be in jeopardy while we’re trying to establish if he really did witness a crime.”

“Somebody could be intending to shut him up,” Toby agreed. “Maybe you ought to keep him under surveillance for a few days. At least until I get the lab work done.”