Silence in West Fork: A small town police procedural set in the American Southwest (The Pegasus Quincy Mystery Series Book 5) Read online

  Table of Contents

  SILENCE IN WEST FORK Dedication

  Other Books by Lakota Grace CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  Where to Find Me

  Other Pegasus Quincy Mysteries

  SILENCE IN WEST FORK

  by Lakota Grace

  Version 1.0 – November, 2018

  Copyright © 2018 by Lakota Grace

  Discover other titles by Lakota Grace at www.LakotaGrace.com.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  DEDICATION

  To my muse and partner--

  Pulling, pushing, wildly creating.

  I couldn't do it without you!

  Other Books by Lakota Grace

  PEGASUS QUINCY MYSTERY SERIES

  Death in Copper Town

  Blood in Tavasci Marsh

  Fire in Broken Water

  Peril in Silver Nightshade

  Silence in West Fork

  CHAPTER 1

  Death has a way of messing with the tidy plans we have for life.

  I sat on my front porch late one afternoon, watching my redbone coonhound, Reckless, dig yet another hole under the Palo Verde tree, hoping to root out the pocket gopher who lived there. I knew who was going to win that skirmish.

  The morning was chilly, bringing a hint of late October fall weather to the Verde Valley of Arizona. I had a trip to the West Fork planned the next morning. That was before Shepherd Malone’s car chugged up the dirt road to my cabin near Mingus.

  Before he retired, Shepherd had been my partner while I worked as a temporary deputy for the sheriff’s office. Now I worked part-time as a family liaison officer, on call in the event of emergencies. Someday they’d make it a full-time job. For now, it paid the bills, or most of them, and I got to keep the badge.

  “Hey, Peg, how you doing?”

  Shepherd climbed the porch steps with Reckless at his heels. A moment later he settled into an old wicker rocker near me.

  “I need a favor,” he said.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Thorn is back in town, staying with me.”

  “Thorn, who?”

  “Uh, Sheryl has changed her name.”

  Ah, to be a teenager again. I remembered the summer I declared my name to be “Rainbow.” Then I went in to get my driver’s permit, and they refused to accept my choice. They said Pegasus was weird enough. So let Sheryl Malone be Thorn. I was fine with that.

  “What trouble is the wild one in this time?” I asked.

  “Thorn got suspended from school for fighting with another girl,” Shepherd said.

  “Serious?”

  “There was a knife involved. Thorn swears it wasn’t hers. Nobody hurt, but they sent both girls home.”

  “Standard practice. So now she’s here with you.” I said. Also predictable. Thorn’s parents, Shepherd and his ex, had shared custody. Shepherd got her when trouble arrived.

  “I told her this was the last time I was helping her out. I got her an internship at Jil-Clair Industries, and she’s studying to pass her G.E.D. Going to enroll in Junior College after that.”

  “I’m impressed,” I said. And I was. “She’s how old now?”

  “Almost 17. I figure we’ve got another year or two to influence her, and then she’s on her own.”

  “And the favor?” Memory like an elephant, that’s me.

  “Well, Thorn needs a ride tomorrow, and her car is in the shop. I’d take her, but I have or a conference in Phoenix. A meet-and-greet for my new business.”

  Shepherd had acquired a silent partner, a guy with big bucks in insurance that was funding his new venture. Shepherd liked it. He said he got to call his own shots and was provided insurance to boot. And the private investigation business was growing as a result.

  “Shep, I’d planned to take a day off tomorrow.” I put a little pathos in my voice.

  “Yeah, I know, but Jil-Clair is planning a big Open House and they need Thorn to run some errands. They’re paying her extra.”

  Errands. So Thorn likely needed more than a ride to work.

  “I wanted to hike the West Fork trail. The fall leaves will be perfect.”

  “That will work out great!” Shepherd said. “Ben said he’d take her around to the first errands, and you can meet her at the Briar Patch Inn for the last one. It’s just right up the road from West Fork. Thorn can hike with you. She could use a little cheering up. You won’t miss a thing.”

  I seriously doubted that. But if Ben took responsibility for the first part, it might work. Ben Yazzie had been my office assistant when I ran the sheriff’s annex here in Mingus, a half-Italian, half-Navajo computer whiz who helped Shepherd and me. At eighteen, he was a year older than Thorn, but not much wiser. He and Thorn were kindred souls, meaning they both rebelled, sometimes at ill-advised moments.

  “Why doesn’t Ben handle the whole trip?” I asked, stalling.

  “Can’t. He’s got an archeology dig up at Flagstaff. But Thorn won’t be any trouble. She’ll be waiting for you at the Inn, boots in hand, about ten a.m.”

  “But I told HT I’d help him with Isabel’s garden beds when I got done,” I said, playing my hole card. “And you know how Thorn hates getting her hands dirty.”

  HT Tewksbury, my grandfather, was my closest relative, now that my mother had been lost to me through dementia. Isabel, his housekeeper, was on me about not spending enough time with him. She was right.

  “It’ll only be for the day. I’ll be back after that.” Shepherd’s voice carried a note of desperation. I hated it when he did that.

  So there it was. I could either help HT or Shepherd, but not both. Maybe I could put HT off until next weekend.

  “Okay,” I said. “Have her ready.”

  “Thanks, Peg. I owe you one.”

  Then I called my grandfather, HT. I spoke rapidly, describing my predicament.

  “But Isabel wants to get in her cool weather crops and it’s supposed to rain,” he said.

  My irritation rose, and my voice sharpened. I was tired of people making arrangements on my behalf.

  “HT, I can’t do it right now. I’m sorry!”

  “Sure, sure, Peg. Next weekend will be fine.”

  I resolved to call my grandfather later, to make up for the abandonment of the gardening project tomorrow. HT was
growing older. Maybe in some ways, I wanted to deny that, too.

  Reckless licked my hand in reassurance. The dog was of championship stock although his formal coonhound training had been hampered with his sojourn at my house. Couldn’t help that. Add it to the interminable list of things I resolved to do and somehow never got around to.

  * * *

  True to Shep’s promise, Thorn sat on the front step of the Briar Patch Inn when I drove up. The teenager had added a few more piercings. The spiky hair, a hot pink when I’d last seen her, was now a dead black, matching her Goth lipstick.

  If Jil-Clair Industries had a uniform code, Thorn hadn’t learned it. Maybe this internship would be beneficial for her, perhaps introduce her to how real people worked.

  “Where are your trail boots? We’re going hiking on the way home.”

  “These will be fine,” she declared. She wiggled her toes in a flimsy pair of sandals.

  I wasn’t so sure. The West Fork hike had a number of creek crossings, but footwear was her problem, not mine.

  “Did you get all your errands run?” I asked her as we swung out of the parking lot.

  “Most of them. Ben helped. Jill wasn’t here when I arrived, so I stuck that letter in the door.”

  “Letter?”

  “It came in last night and Harriet said Jill has to have it.”

  “And Harriet is?” I asked.

  “Jill’s executive assistant.”

  "Couldn’t the letter just wait until she got back to the office?"

  “You don’t know my boss,” Thorn retorted.

  I’d never met Jill Rustaine, but I’d heard of her. In her late 30s, Jill had a doctorate in Artificial Intelligence and ran her own high-tech firm here in Sedona. A brilliant woman, but mean as a hungry badger when crossed. I didn’t envy Thorn. Shepherd had done her no favors getting her an internship there.

  “Do we have to go hiking? I want to go back to my dad’s house.”

  “No. Hike first.”

  Her mouth drew down in a sulk, and she stared out the window, shutting me out. Shepherd had said something about meds and anger management. Was she still seeing a therapist?

  West Fork was the premier leaf-peeping spot in Oak Creek Canyon. It was mid-October, and the leaves were all golden. If you didn’t arrive early, the Phoenicians would snag the parking spaces, and you’d miss out.

  And we might this morning. By the time we reached the entrance to West Fork, a line of cars waited to get in. The paid parking lot contained twenty spaces and was half-full already. I counted nine vehicles in front of us. Maybe we still had a chance.

  I pulled in behind the last car, turned off the motor, and slid back in my seat. The ranger at the entrance kiosk made change like a turtle.

  It’d be fine. If Thorn tired of hiking, I’d be able to fit in a visit to HT. When it was our turn, I drew out my Arizona State Parks annual pass.

  The Smoky-Bear hatted ranger looked at it. “We don’t recognize that.”

  “What about this?” I passed over my sheriff’s ID.

  “You here on official business?”

  He had me there. My shoulders were touching my ears, and I lowered them with effort.

  “I gotta follow the rules,” he said. “I’m just a sub. The regular guy didn’t make it in this morning. And you’re creating a traffic jam.”

  “What’s the parking fee?” I asked, admitting defeat. I forked over a ten and got the map and the customary lecture about packing out trash and remaining on the pathways.

  We parked, and I gave Thorn my daypack to stow her phone. HT had told me when he moved here thirty years ago, he’d had to ford the rock-filled water of Oak Creek that was now spanned with an arched footbridge.

  “Hey, Thorn, stay there for a moment.”

  I pulled out my cell and took a picture, capturing the fake smile that she offered.

  “How’s the job?” I asked, trying to make casual conversation.

  She muttered something.

  “What?”

  “I just got a rock in my sandal,” she whined.

  I didn’t point out to her this was a hike, and she’d had the chance to change into better shoes. I waited until she picked the stone out. If I was lucky, she’d lose enthusiasm. We could cut this project short, and I’d try again another day.

  We passed through the ancient apple orchards planted at the turn of the century to provide the miners in the Verde Valley with fruit. The trees were tired now, the apples reverting to the wilder strains. Thorn snagged one off a low-hanging branch. She took a bite and threw the core away before I could stop her.

  “Sour.” Her mouth puckered.

  “Well, sour or not, pick it up. You’re not littering when you’re with me.”

  “Some squirrel will eat it.”

  “Apple core,” I said, pointing.

  She made another face, but retrieved the apple core and stuck it in her backpack. This hike was turning into a nightmare.

  We moved down the main path deep into West Fork Canyon. The stone walls narrowed, squeezing light into spare beams that hit waxy pine needles and the scrub oak leaves turning golden. A light canyon breeze brushed my cheek. A scrub jay called from a ponderosa pine, and a chipmunk skittered up a rock in front of us.

  This first part of the trail was crowded, and I kept Reckless on lead, even though his coonhound nose was quivering with excitement. A gaggle of birdwatchers peered at a Black Hawk nest high on the cliff, marked by white streaks on the red rocks.

  “Thorn, keep up,” I said as a group of hikers separated us.

  Instead, she stopped to check her cellphone reception.

  “Where’s the bridge?” she asked when we got to the first creek crossing on the West Fork branch.

  “There isn’t one. Look, it’s not hard; just spot the next flat rock and jump. Always know what your next landing spot will be.”

  Thorn shook her head.

  “Watch.” I unhooked Reckless, and he immediately bounded through the water.

  “I’ll get my sandals wet.”

  “Not if you’re careful. Watch me.”

  I stepped on the first rock and then the second with no problem. The third rock tilted unexpectedly. My boot splashed into the ice-cold water. It sloshed over the top, numbing my toes. Two more hops and I was over, with one wet boot and sock. It would dry as I hiked, I reassured myself.

  Thorn gave a hoot of laughter as the water soaked my jeans. Then her face sobered as she faced the same challenge.

  Looking at the creek from this angle I spotted my mistake.

  “Take that flat stone to the right of the one I missed. See it?”

  She nodded and leaped awkwardly from rock to rock, reaching the shore successfully.

  Reckless’s coonhound bay echoed ahead of us. I recognized the chop-chop of his discovery call and quickened my pace. I crossed my fingers that he hadn’t treed a tourist.

  “Reckless, to me.”

  His tongue hung out as he panted in satisfaction. Chipmunk, probably. He’d never abandon real quarry like a raccoon. On the other hand, there were porcupines in the ponderosa pine forest as well.

  I made a grab for him as he neared. The pup must have taken it as an invitation to play, for he darted out of reach and gamboled up the path and out of sight around the next bend.

  I looked back. Thorn had paused again, checking cellphone reception. Between Reckless darting ahead and Thorn dropping behind, I was pulled in two directions. My irritation flared as I attempted to keep track of both of them.

  When we reached the next creek crossing, the path split. The main branch continued across the water. A secondary path continued on this side with dog prints scattered down the middle of it. Reckless had taken a detour.

  Thorn speeded up, crossed the creek easily, and waited on the other side.

  I hesitated. I needed to collect the hound dog and leash him properly, but Thorn had already disappeared into the woods ahead.

  “Thorn, wait.”
<
br />   She didn’t answer. Then came the wail of a coonhound in distress.

  That decided it. I jogged the side path, following the echoes of frantic yelps. Rounding a corner, I found Reckless, one front paw wedged in a tangle of roots at the edge of the creek. His tail wagged a frantic welcome as he saw me.

  “Now what did you do?” If he’d hurt himself, it was a long hike back to the entrance carrying the heavy beast over the rock crossings.

  I waded between boulders that had tumbled downstream in the high water flows. Then I crouched to pry loose the rock that had become wedged tighter by Reckless’s anxious motions, trapping his foot. The pup bounded to the far shore, shaking his coat.

  I sloshed after him and leashed him before he could break free again. Then I lifted his paw to investigate a bleeding tear by the dewclaw. I moved my fingers between each toe and Reckless winced, but when I dropped his foot, he put weight on it. Even so, this trip was over. I needed to get the dog back to have a vet inspect the damage.

  “Thorn!” I yelled, but there was no answer.

  The trail widened, and I encountered a man in his sixties, perched on a log. He was attired in a drab olive green and sported a full white beard.

  “Mister, I’m looking for a young woman. Black hair, black lipstick, tattoos.”

  “She’s there.” He gestured with an elegant hand-carved walking stick.

  I stared in puzzlement at the trail ahead of me.

  “Not that direction. Up there.” He pointed to the cliff. “Girl’s in trouble.”

  This didn’t make any sense. Why wasn’t Thorn on the main trail?

  “Leave your dog here. I’ll watch him. You can move quicker that way.” He pulled the dog’s leash from my hand. “Go on, now. She needs you.”

  I left the trail and climbed rapidly up the steep hill, anxiety accompanying each step. Shepherd would never forgive me if anything happened to his precious daughter. I quickened my pace and tripped over a rock. I righted, then scrambled over a fallen pine log making my way still higher. Where was the girl?

  Thorn’s screams reached me as I neared the cliff. She ran toward me, and I grabbed her as she collapsed into my arms. Her face and blouse were covered in blood.