Chance Encounters - Ch. 12

From the rough draft of Chance Encounters, by Pat Otterness

CHAPTER TWELVE

?“Goldurn it, boy! Help me catch that dog!”

Harm and I could hear Chance’s voice long before we saw him. The brush was so tall it was hard to see him even then. Well hidden from sight, we stopped to observe what was happening. Chance was veering one way to try to catch Wolf, and Skeeter, who was much faster, was attacking the problem from the other side. Wolf, meanwhile, was trying to get to his objective, the bloody site where forensic workers were examining the ground and putting up a tent.

Tempted as we were to intervene, Harm and I simply stood there and watched as Skeeter did a flying tackle and grabbed Wolf by the collar. Wolf, not to be deterred, dragged Skeeter in the direction he wanted to go until Chance caught up with them and snapped a leash onto the reluctant animal's neck.

The two conspirators shared a victory glance and headed back in our direction, dragging a reluctant Wolf behind them and chatting amiably. “Thanks,” said Chance. “The dog has a mind of his own. Cain’t have him messin’ with a crime scene.”

“Glad to help, sir,” said Skeeter. “What’s going on down there? Is it really a crime scene?”

“Looks like some poor bugger was caught in a trap, and maybe bled out,” said Chance. “Then somebody … maybe the trapper … got rid of the body.”

Skeeter sat down abruptly, looking stunned.

“What’s the matter, boy?” Chance asked. “Aww, shoot! You’re just a kid. I shouldn’ have tole you that.”

“No, it’s all right,” said Skeeter. “I’m okay, honest.” Wolf nuzzled his face and covered it with slobbery kisses, licking away the salty tears. “I just wasn’t expecting it. I knew something had happened.” He got back to his feet.

“You live around here?” asked Chance.

“Way over there,” Skeeter said, pointing to a barn in the far distance. “I’m just visiting someone over here right now.”

“Help me get this dog back home and I’ll give you some lemonade for your trouble.” Chance threw an arm over Skeeter’s shoulder, and the two took turns dragging a reluctant dog behind them in our direction.

Harm and I exchanged a glance and moved deeper into the brush. The last thing we wanted was to interfere with this bonding. Clearly, neither of them knew who the other was. Best to let well enough alone.

Once they were out of earshot we headed down to where the forensic work was being done. Deputy Alan Cook was supervising the area, while a forensic team from Richmond picked through the grass looking for whatever clues they might find to help solve this riddle. There were a mishmash of partial footprints overlapping each other, and casts were being made in the probably vain hope that they might lead to the perpetrators.

“Hi Chat! Hi Harm!” said Cook. “We’ve got a real mess here. Some guy was almost certainly killed. Might have been accidental, but getting rid of the body makes whoever did it guilty for sure.”

“I guess you heard about the boy,” I said. “Harm is going to try to foster him. I hope you’ll speak up on his behalf.”

“I hadn’t heard about that part,” said Alan. “Sure. My mom and I can both attest that Harm would make a great foster parent.” Harm did occasional housecleaning at Alan’s mom’s bed and breakfast establishment. “Poor kid!” He shook his head. “He’s mighty young to have so much tragedy in his life.”

“I aim to make it better for him,” said Hiram. “He needs stability. He needs a dad. I know. I grew up without mine. That’s hard on a boy.”

“Where’s Jordan?” I asked, looking around at all the uniforms but not seeing the one I wanted.

“He’s gone to fetch a boat,” said Alan. “We need someone out on the water to see if a body is visible down in the lake.”

“I don’t think he’s going to see much in that dark water,” said Hiram. “I wonder how deep it is. It looks pretty muddy to me.”

“Only one way to find out,” said Alan. “I have officers looking for anything that looks like a grave, too, but so far we’ve seen nothing.”

“Do you mind if we look around?” I asked. “We might spot something. There’s a lot of ground to cover.”

“Be my guest.” Alan’s smile was one of resignation rather than pleasure. “I need to get back to work. Call me if you find anything. But don’t touch it,” he added as an afterthought. “If you see something of interest, hands off.”

“I’m heading over there,” said Hiram, indicating a distant area not being searched by any of the deputies.

“I’ll start at the far end of that section, and we can meet in the middle,” I said, heading to the farthest end of the field. The grass and brush were even taller here. Anything could be hidden deep in its reaches. I was still wary of traps, even though the deputies thought they’d removed them all. No point in being careless. There was also the issue of snakes hiding deep in the undergrowth.

Hiram had already set out for the destination he had chosen. I could barely see him over the tall fronds of grass. Hiram and I were good as a team. I couldn’t help but think of that as we drew apart in order to come together again. It felt like a metaphor for our lives, coming together, falling back, then coming together again. Not for the first time I wondered why I could not have fallen for Harm instead of the man I cherished, Sheriff’s Investigator Jordan Hunt. Opposites detract, I thought, grinning silently to myself. Chance probably had it right after all.

By the time Harm and I met in the middle, I was longing for a scythe, a weed-eater, a lawn mower. Just walking through this brush was a challenge. “Find anything?” I asked.

“Nothing but a few startled bunnies and one field rat,” said Harm, wiping sweat from his brow. I think Jordan is back with the boat, though. I heard a big engine over towards the lake. Let’s go see what he’s doing.”

We set off across the long field, side by side, like the co-conspirators we had always been. It felt good to be working with Harm again.

Someone was trying to back a truck, pushing a trailer with a large rowboat towards the lake. I couldn’t see who was driving, but apparently Hiram could.

“Stop!” He cried, running towards the lake, but it was already too late. Trailer, boat, and truck were all up to their hubs in water. The truck came to a stop, and a familiar face peered out the window. Chance.

“Oops!” he said.

I heard some mild cursing from the other side if the truck and recognized Jordan’s voice. There was a brief spate of inaudible argument. Then the engine roared. The wheels spun. The truck sank deeper in the mud. I hear a door open, a splash, and a fuming Jordan Hunt moved down to the trailer and unhitched the boat, which slid slowly into the water and stayed afloat. Jordan climbed aboard and sat there, glaring at Chance, who remained dry in the cab of the truck.

By this time the deputies had abandoned their search to see what was going on in the lake. There was laughter, followed by a deputy being ordered to “go find a tractor.” Jordan sat scowling and dripping in the boat, boots and jeans soaked and muddied. After a bit, he found the oars and made his way to shore, touching up on the red clay mudbank. He looked around ?for a rope to moor the boat. No rope. Unwilling to let the boat get away from him, he continued to sit and fume. He reminded me of the red-faced officer I knew when we first met. I was glad it hadn’t been me driving that truck.

“I’m going to row around the lake and see if I can see anything,” he told the deputies standing nearby. I need a volunteer to row while I look into the lake. Any takers?”

“I’ll go,” said Hiram, beating me to the punch. I really wanted to ride in that boat. Maybe not today, though, with Jordan so angry. I watched Hiram clamber onto the boat and take the oars. I knew he would be good at rowing. He seemed to be good at everything.

The boat was about halfway out when I heard shouting and looked around. My sister Hope and Skeeter were chasing a fleeing Wolf, his leash dragging along behind as he raced towards the lake. I couldn’t take my eyes off the shaggy beast as he flew across the field, mouth wide open in a doggy smile, with my feral cat Demon clinging like an angry jockey to his back.

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