The Dirt on Ninth Grave(94)

"Good idea, Janey. Get out of the city. Get some fresh air."



"Exactly. Well, thanks anyway."



I got up and motioned for Helen to join me in the little niñas' room. She did, and five minutes later, working from her verbal directions, I had a crude map of the area. I also knew that while Helen was her first name, her stage name was Helen Bedd, and that Mr. V's friend Doc Emmett liked fine whiskies, lap dances, and hunting. He'd gone hunting, in fact, last week, and nobody had seen him since.



Using Helen's map, I took the Taconic State Parkway for about forty-five minutes to Lake Oscawana, where Doc Emmett's cabin sat nestled on the waterfront. I drove around the lake to the northeast shore, taking this turn and that, until I finally found Chippewa Road. The cabin I sought was somewhere on that road, but it was broad daylight. Well, cloudy-with-a-chance-of-rain daylight. I couldn't just drive up there and ask if the Vandenbergs were home. I'd been hoping an idea would magically pop into my head as I drove. Sadly, nothing popped, magical or otherwise. I'd just have to do some recon and see what I could see. Hopefully, without getting anyone killed.



I parked the Fiesta and hiked up the road, passing by a house now and again, but nothing that looked like the cabin in the picture. I was beginning to worry Helen had been wrong when I spotted a canoe I'd seen in one of Mr. V's photos. The cabin looked different. It could have been the starkness of the forest as compared to the lush greens of the summer camping pictures they'd taken.



Either way, this had to be the place. By the time I found the cabin, I was too close. They would look out a window and spot me, if they hadn't already. I didn't see any vehicles, but they could have had them all parked out back. I walked until I could no longer see any part of the cabin, then doubled back, taking a trail that led farther inland. If I circled around, I might spot cars or other outbuildings where they could have stashed cars.



I fought the cold with my evolved powers of shivering. As I got closer, every twig that snapped under my feet, every branch that broke as I picked my way through the brush, seemed to echo across the land to announce my arrival. I was scratching the heck out of Reyes's jacket. Maybe he'd like it even better. It now had a cool "worn" look. People paid out the ass for that crap.



Hidden by a hill behind the cabin sat two vehicles. The pickup they'd used the other day to bring in the equipment and an older-model PT Cruiser. That had to be Mr. V's. It just looked like him.



Without having thought to hunt down a pair of binoculars, I had no way of getting a closer look. So I squinted really hard and saw no movement. Their vehicles were not proof that the Vandenbergs were out here. I needed something good to give Agent Carson. I took a couple of pictures on the phone, then used the camera to zoom in. The picture was so blurry, I still couldn't make out anything.



I did, however, notice a man sitting in the brush south of the house. He looked like a hunter. Great. Now I had to worry about being mistaken for a deer. If only Angel were here.



"What are we looking at?"



I squeaked and jumped thirty-seven feet in the air. Angel had appeared beside me and was now laughing at my reaction. I held one hand on my chest, the other over my mouth so as not to squeak again.



"You are so jumpy, chica. People like you make life worth living."



"This coming from a dead kid," I said in a loud whisper.



"True. We looking for dead people again?"




 

 



"I'm hoping, if the Vandenbergs are in there, they are very much alive. Can you check?"



"What's in it for me?"



"Your ability to talk in a normal voice."



"I don't get it."



I grabbed his arm, clawing at it, digging my nails into his skin as hard as I could.



"I get it. I get it," he said, falling to his knees.



I let go, and he cradled his injured arm, blowing on the marks I'd left.



I glanced at him. "People's lives are at stake, Angel. And all you can worry about is your angle. Your cut."



"I'm thirteen."



He had a point. "Look, I'm sorry, just go see if the Vandenbergs are there." When he glared back at me, I added, "Please."



He disappeared. I tried to calm down, but I was cold and tired and hungry. And more than a little worried about Mr. V, Natalie, Joseph, and Jasmine.



Just then I heard a low thud. Nothing too spectacular, but the energy that hit me almost bowled me over. A wall of fear hit me head-on, and I knew before Angel got back that Mr. V and his family were in there. Was the sound a gunshot?



I stood and started for the cabin. Soon I was sprinting. I would have run right up to the door and burst through it if Angel hadn't tackled me to the ground.