The following morning, Bet sat at her desk on the phone with Randall Vogel, trying to dismiss another night of tossing and turning haunted by her nightmare. She couldn’t let her dreams derail her investigation. No matter what had or hadn’t happened seventeen years ago, she had a job to do now. Jane Doe left behind people who loved her. They were Bet’s priority, not some long-ago traumatic event. She was tougher than that.
“Sure thing, Rivers,” Vogel said, after Bet told him she wanted to go up in his helicopter and fly over the Collier property to look for an access road.
“I can be down to your place around two o’clock,” Bet said. “That work for you?”
Vogel and his wife Penny operated a small airfield outside Ellensburg along with their son, Paul. “Long as no one gets themselves lost or hurt in the meantime, that’ll be just fine.”
Vogel had flown in the area for almost forty years. He and Penny did search and rescue when people went missing in the backwoods, and in the winter they dropped extreme athletes on top of inaccessible peaks so they could ski down. Randall Vogel piloted, while Penny and Paul used their EMT training and nursing skills. They also helped with firefighting and airlifting people out to the hospitals in Seattle when there was a serious medical condition or accident. Bet had flown with the Vogels many times.
After hanging up the phone, she went out to check on Alma, who reported finding three girls who looked vaguely like Jane Doe in Seeley Lander’s friends list on Facebook. She’d tracked two of them down, and neither knew where Seeley lived for the summer.
The third girl wasn’t proving easy to find. Her Facebook posts ended a week ago, with no explanation. Carrie Turner was nineteen years old and lived in Seattle, but when Alma tracked down a landline number for the girl, Bet called and it rang without voice mail picking up. Bet’s pulse began to quicken.
“Finding this girl Carrie is your top priority,” Bet said.
“I’m on it,” Alma said, before her attention turned to someone coming up the front steps. “Well, if it isn’t Eric Chandler,” she exclaimed, getting up out of her chair.
As Alma crossed over to open the door, Bet contemplated bolting to her office and locking herself in. Alma had no reason to know anything of Bet’s history with Eric after they both left Collier. Alma only knew they had been friends as children. Bet wanted to keep it that way.
Eric greeted Alma with a hug as he came through the door, a different T-shirt on than last night, the flannel shirt now tied around his waist, too hot for the summer day. Bet picked up the list of names again as if it contained the most important information in the world.
“Good to see you,” he said to Alma, towering over the woman.
“Here to stay? Or just a visit? Is Dylan coming too?” Alma peppered him with questions.
“Nope, just me.”
“Sorry to hear about your divorce,” Alma said.
Bet looked up at Alma’s comment.
“Thank you,” Eric said, a quick glance at Bet inviting her to ask about his marital status, but Bet remained silent, returning her eyes to the paper in her hand.
“So what brings you to town?” Alma ushered Eric in and led him to the chair next to her desk.
“Before you two get to talking, I need to ask Eric about something.”
Eric looked at her, his face expectant. What did he think she’d ask? Bet reached over and picked up copies of Jane Doe and Seeley Lander from Alma’s desk.
“Have you seen either of these two since you arrived?”
She watched Eric’s face closely. She liked to think she knew him well enough to know if he was lying.
He studied the two pages, wincing as he looked at Jane Doe.
“What happened to her?” His voice held concern.
“Accident.”
“Fell?” It wasn’t a bad guess. A surprising number of people fell from the nearby trails every year. The advent of the selfie made it even more common. On high ledges, people backed up to get the perfect shot and stepped into space.
“Something like that.”
“He’s missing?” Eric asked. Bet nodded. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t. But I haven’t been back long, so there’s probably a lot of people living here I don’t know.”
Bet studied his face. None of the telltale hints of lying appeared. He looked relaxed and met her eyes.
“Okay. Thank you.” Bet started back to her office. “Oh, by the way, when did you get back to town?”
“Sunday,” he said with a laugh. “Then I slept for a full day after driving cross country.”
“Don’t you want to stay and get caught up?” Alma asked Bet. “You can’t have seen Eric in a month of Sundays.”
“More than a few,” Bet said. “But I need to get some things finished before I head down to Vogel’s airfield. Don’t chat too long. I need that information we talked about.”
“Maybe dinner, Sheriff?” Eric said. “We could get caught up then.”
“That’s a fine idea,” Alma answered, before Bet could say a word.
“There’s a lot going on right now.”
“Too much going on to have dinner?” Eric asked.
“You still need to eat,” Alma said. No one ever won an argument with Alma.
“It would have to be late,” Bet said.
“Okay by me.” He leaned back in the chair as if he belonged in her station. He pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Bet. “Call me on my cell when you’re free.”
Bet took the card and had started to leave the room when she heard Alma clear her throat in a loud command. Turning back to her, Bet saw Alma’s hand outstretched and one eyebrow raised and realized she still held the list of names. Bet handed the paper over and returned to her office, where she shut the door she usually kept open. Even with the door closed, however, she could hear the low hum of his words.
Determined not to sit and stew about Eric Chandler, she picked up the phone and called the University of Washington, where she tracked down Seeley Lander’s academic adviser. Bet explained that Seeley might have witnessed a crime and she needed to find him. School wasn’t back in session, but she hoped the adviser might be able to get in touch with him. Bet also described Jane Doe, without reporting her dead, saying she was also a potential witness and a close friend to Seeley. The adviser said she would do what she could.
Hanging up the phone, Bet heard the front door open and close and the outer office fall silent. It surprised her to hear Alma’s knock a moment later.
“Just thought you might want your door open again,” Alma said, leaning against the doorframe.
“Okay.”
“Good to see Eric.” She watched Bet like a cat stalking a mouse.
The silence stretched between them. Bet finally caved.
“Anything else, Alma?”
“People make mistakes, when they’re young. Maybe you should hear what Eric has to say.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Eric did what he thought was right when he left you. He stood by that woman, and he stood by his daughter. But years have gone by. He’s different.”
“Different how?” Bet asked, shocked to hear Alma knew about her relationship with Eric.
“Eric never knew who he was. He grew up too fast, the oldest child, no real father figure. He made mistakes.”
“I grew up without a mother. That didn’t make me a cheater.” Bet heard the hurt and betrayal in her voice. She hadn’t meant to say those words out loud.
“You’ve always been stronger than most people, Bet. You’re just like your father that way. But you’re at fault too. Eric strayed because he couldn’t fill the empty spot his father left inside him. And look at what his own father did, abandoning his family. He didn’t exactly model good behavior. But did you ever really let Eric in? Or did you hold him at arm’s length?”
Bet started to respond with angry denial, but Alma cut her off.
“Don’t get uppity with me. You know I’m right. You’ve chosen to be single ever since Eric left. No one gets hurt that bad; you just find it easier to be alone. Just like your dad.”
“Time for me to leave for the airfield.” Bet rose from behind her desk and headed for the door.
Alma strode toward her desk, irritation sounding in the thump of her heels on the floors. Bet continued to the front door while Alma crossed over and sat down, telling Schweitzer he couldn’t go on this trip with Bet.
“Dogs don’t belong in helicopters,” she said, scratching him behind the ears. Bet paused at the door, looking back at the woman who never ceased to surprise her.
“I know everything,” Alma said, as if Bet had asked.
“I guess you do.”
“At least dinner with Eric beats dinner with Peter Malone.”
Bet laughed, the storm temporarily blown over, and went out the door. She should have known Alma would know about her eating dinner with Peter at the tavern. At least she hadn’t commented on her sitting with Rob Collier last night at the bar.
Bet left Collier in Dale’s hands for the rest of the day, though she hoped he didn’t like the view from her chair too much. It was a beautiful afternoon for flying. As the helicopter rose over the valley, Bet could see the town of Ellensburg to the east and the foothills of the Cascades to the west. Mt. Rainier rose in the southwest, with Mt. St. Helens just beyond, the flattened silhouette reminding Bet what happened when a volcano blew its top. The majesty of the Cascades filled her with awe. The endless expanse of wilderness, places where even to this day no person had ever walked. The line of jagged ridgelines that stretched all the way into Canada, a pipeline for wolves and moose, the return of the grizzly bear.
Maybe Bet had returned to these mountains on instinct too, like the animals once pushed out by men invading their territory, as if the soil ran in her veins.
Vogel headed toward Collier. Using the headsets they wore to communicate over the rotor noise, Bet explained that a visitor had found a body in the lake and they needed to locate a missing person and a missing vehicle. She wanted his eyes to help her search.
Twenty minutes later, Lake Collier appeared in front of them. Vogel eased up and their forward motion slowed.
“There’s our visiting scientist.” Bet pointed to Peter Malone out on the water. Sunlight flashed off his equipment and the silver of his boat. Nothing else was visible on the lake, just a dark expanse of blue rimmed with turquoise. “Let’s fly over the Collier place.”
Vogel soon circled over the impressive residence, where nothing stirred. Bet couldn’t tell if Rob’s Bronco was in the garage.
Bet pointed north, and Vogel tilted the aircraft to the right. Bet felt her body shift with the force, like riding a Tilt-a-Whirl at the fair. The agile craft straightened again and flew around the far side of the mountain, and maybe another entrance to the old mine.
“Did you ever notice another road into this area?” Randall Vogel knew the landscape of the Cascades as well as anyone.
“There are a few cutoffs from Ingalls Creek Road,” Vogel said. “I’ve been thinking about it since you told me what we’re looking for. I didn’t think anything went all the way through, but it’s possible. It would have to wind around below Three Brothers.”
Bet looked down at the topographical map on her lap. She located the lake, the mine, and Three Brothers peak. There were a few lower valleys along the ridge heading up to the summit. It made sense there might be an old road there.
“This would be the back of the mine,” Vogel said, pointing down while hovering in place. In this heavily wooded area, they could see little of the ground, just the tops of trees. But a lighter patch of dirt showed through the canopy half a mile away. Vogel gestured toward it with his chin while he dipped the chopper over for a closer look. A path wound through the evergreens. Bet held up her binoculars and studied the terrain.
“Looks like a trail to me,” she said, lowering the binoculars back into her lap. “See anyone down there in the woods?”
“No. But it’s dense enough a whole army could hide out in there and we’d never know it.”
“Well, I sure hope that’s not true.”
Vogel chuckled.
“Too bad we can’t make all the trees shed their needles and leaves,” Bet said. “Just for a little while.”
“Trust me,” Vogel said. “You don’t want that. I saw what Agent Orange could do to a forest in Nam. I pray I never see anything like that again.”
Bet looked over at him but couldn’t see his face.
“You must have seen a lot of awful things in the war,” she said.
Randall shrugged and gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. “Not something I usually talk about. Let’s see if we can find where the trail comes out.”
Bet started to say more, but a memory of her father stopped her. She’d asked him about the wars he’d been in, the battles he’d fought.
Let it go, Bet.
Maybe she should have tried harder to get him to talk.
They moved north, the dirt track appearing and disappearing through the dense mix of evergreens and big-leaf maples. Nothing moved below them except a huge six-point buck they startled out of a thicket with the noise of their rotors. They traveled north until the rapids of Ingalls Creek showed white through the trees. The trail came out at one side of the creek; Ingalls Creek Road ended on the other.
“You’d have to know that trail was there to find it,” Vogel said. “But it looks like there is another way onto the back of the Collier property.”
“This is part of the Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest here, right?” Bet asked, pointing to the other side of Ingalls Creek, where the road stretched out to Highway 97.
“Yep. The creek is the dividing line.”
“What’s that?” Something flashed through a gap in the forest. Vogel maneuvered over for a closer look.
“Probably would be hidden from anyone who drove to the end of Ingalls Creek Road,” Vogel said.
“What does that look like to you?”
He squinted at the vehicle.
“Looks like a red Ford Ranger.”