PITCH BLACK by Susan Crandall

In an effort to give her newly adopted teenage son, Ethan, a fresh start, Philadelphia journalist Madison Wade relocates to a small Tennessee town. When Ethan goes on a camping trip with three other teens and returns without their chaperone, Ethan's past casts him as suspect in a crime. The secrets Madison uncovers as she tries to clear her son brings danger from unexpected places and puts her at odds with the local sheriff -- a man who has been trying to win her heart.

Listen to an excerpt on MUCH ADO ABOUT BOOKS

REVIEWS

“From the first page, PITCH BLACK captures the reader's attention … A nail biting who-dun-it, PITCH BLACK is a novel I highly recommend." --Terrie Figueroa, Romance Reviews Today

"PITCH BLACK is packed with mystery and terror throughout. Susan Crandall has very cleverly wound her story around each character without revealing the culprits. Maddie is a wonderful, strong character, feisty and full of surprises. Lots of suspense makes this a very difficult book to put down. I thoroughly enjoyed PITCH BLACK and would highly recommend it. Don't miss this one!" --Kay Quintin, FreshFiction.com

“PITCH BLACK … a taut potboiler…” --Publishers Weekly

It could have been the thunder. Or perhaps the gust of wind that shook the house as if it was a misbehaving child. Something had jerked Madison Wade awake with her breath locked her in her chest and her heart racing. Perhaps it had been Mrs. Quigley’s Tom cat romancing the Persian that spent her mornings on the sun porch next door. But it didn’t feel like any of those things. It felt, heavy … dark, and stifling. She hadn’t suffered from this kind of anxious awakening for months, not since she’d moved to Tennessee.

She forced herself to draw a deep breath and release it slowly. Everything was fine. Her son – she’d finally grown accustomed to thinking of Ethan as such -- was far away from the dangers in Philadelphia, safe from the people and circumstances that had threatened to pull him under. Things were good.

She glanced toward the window. No rain pattered against the pane. Although the new day did not creep as softly as it usually did upon Buckeye, the approaching storm seemed respectful and subdued, as was accorded by the early hour. That was one of her father’s idyllic boyhood stories that had proven true – one of the few truths that had ever passed his lips -- here the days rolled gently one into the other. They were not announced with brittle light and a blare of car horns, or the sharp banging of Dumpsters dropped noisily to the ground. Here in Buckeye people respected the quiet of early morning. The day fell gently, as if delivered by a feather drifting from an awakening sky.

She arose and looked outside. The view from most every window in this house was spectacular, contrasting in every way from the gray cityscape she had inhabited for most of her life. Even after the passage of four months, she couldn’t help but pause each morning and take in the seemingly endless reach of the verdant wilderness. The setting was the main reason she had chosen this particular house. She wanted everything in Ethan’s life to be new, untouched by the cruel bleakness of his childhood.

Clouds hung low over the rolling green mountains; the valleys and draws cradled thick blue-gray mist. Had she sent warm enough clothes with Ethan? The nights could be chilly up there, even though it was only September.

She shook her head. When had she turned into such a sap? Ethan would really let her have it if he knew. That was part of what made the two of them work -- love and honesty without the pretty bows and wrapping paper. It was a deal they’d struck early on; no bullshit.

Besides, her stewing was ridiculous. When she’d first taken Ethan in as a foster child at thirteen, he had spent more nights sleeping in the elements than any child should. He’d reminded her before he’d left – when he’d caught her surreptitiously checking his supplies, looking at the tag for the weather rating of his sleeping bag and throwing in extra batteries for his flashlight – he was fifteen now. Which he said translated into something like twenty in regular suburban-kid-years. “Besides,” he’d said, “It’s a whole lot safer sleeping on a mountain with a few bears than it had been sleeping on the streets in Philadelphia.”

She’d looked into his wide blue eyes and nearly cried. Crying … now that would have sent him into orbit.

Luckily, these days his past was just a distant echo that she occasionally saw in the depths of his eyes. He was safe and loved; her responsibility … her son. The adoption had been finalized the week before they’d moved to Buckeye.

Thunder rumbled again in the distance. She hoped the boys made it back down the mountain before the rain hit. With the threatening weather, surely Mr. McPherson would pack up and head back early.

Jordan Gray’s stepfather took groups of boys camping once a month. The first two times Ethan had been invited, she’d managed an excuse – although she couldn’t say why she’d been so reluctant to let him go. This time he’d called her on it. Honesty … without the pretty packaging. He went.

She should have been happy that Ethan, a newcomer, had been asked. It was a great opportunity for him to bond with other boys of his own age. Of course, those were logical arguments, not the illogical fears of a mother who wasn’t truly comfortable with her new role as such. She attributed her heightened worry to her vast and intimate knowledge of how dangerous this world could be; up until a few months ago, she’d made her living writing about missing children, gang violence, and internet predators.

Madison turned from the window and chafed her hands over her chilly arms. She’d lived alone throughout her adulthood, preferring a solitary life, relying on the only person she knew she could count on – herself. Dedication to her work had filled her days; she’d never felt lonely. But now, as she stood in her bedroom listening to the wind, she suddenly realized how starkly empty the house felt without Ethan.

Get a grip. He’s only been gone since yesterday morning. She’d always thrived on independence and respected it in others. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she’d be inclined to stew and worry while her child was off living his life. What had she known?

Certainly not how quickly a person became used to hearing overgrown feet thudding on the floor overhead; or how not finding a dirty cereal bowl in the sink seemed to make a person’s chest feel hollow.

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was glad she’d agreed to have breakfast with Gabe Wyatt this morning. It wasn’t a date; she didn’t date. Not now that she was the working mother of a teenage son. Both her and Ethan’s lives had been upturned enough without adding the complication of a new romance.

But Gabe’s friendship was becoming difficult to keep at that casual level. He’d subtly insinuated himself into her life; often serving as a sounding board concerning adolescent male behavior (being an only child, her only first-hand experience with the teenage male before Ethan had been her own pubescent dating). Gabe had also done his best to help her learn which toes were the most delicate in this new small town. Since she was editor of the local daily paper, more often than not those lessons went unheeded. They were appreciated nonetheless.

Up until yesterday, she’d managed to resist his repeated invitations to dinner and movies – no easy feat. From the very first time she’d heard him speak, his smooth southern voice had a nearly hypnotic effect on her Yankee heart. She now understood the power of those called “whisperers” -- people who could calm animals with only their voices. It was certain, Gabe Wyatt’s voice called to something primal deep inside her. She had no business getting involved. But he kept asking in that voice….

When the invitation had been breakfast, she’d justified that breakfast was different. Colleagues and friends met for breakfast. Breakfast was innocent, noncommittal. Breakfast wasn’t a date.

At seven-thirty she turned onto High Street. With a gust of wind, the first fat drops of rain hit her windshield. Gabe’s Jeep Cherokee with “sheriff” printed plainly on the sides and back gate was parked at the curb in front of the Smoky Ridge Café. She parked next to it.

She tamped down that ripple of pure pleasure and wondered when she had started lying to herself -- something as foreign to her as these hills had been on her first day here. She’d always been as pragmatic in her personal relationships as she was in her work. She wasn’t sure what to think of this new aspect of herself.

She stopped asking questions she didn’t really want to answer and hopped out of the car. The second she closed the door, the clouds cut loose. Holding her purse over her head, she made a dash for the café.

The door swung open just as she reached it. Gabe held the door and hurried her inside. For a long moment, he just stood there grinning at her.

“Mermaid.” The warmth of his voice poured over her, banishing the chill. “I was thinking you look like a mermaid.”

“You Southern boys, always let your good manners get ahead of your good sense,” she said, breaking eye contact.

“For the compliment?” he asked. “Or for calling you on your Yankee ways?”

“Oh,” she feigned a surprised look, “I thought they were both compliments.”

“You started it.” She walked toward an empty booth, her heart fluttering in a most unpragmatic way.

She pointed across the table. “Then get your ass over on the other side of the booth before people start talking.”

Madison looked around the crowded café and saw knowing grins, raised eyebrows, and a few lips pursed in disapproval. The damage had already been done.

She leaned across the table and said in a hushed voice, “Everyone thinks we spent the night together.”

Gabe glanced around, then grinned at her and whispered back, “Of course they don’t. What man in his right mind would be out of your bed at this early hour on a Sunday morning?”

Titling her head, trying to appear sweet and Southern, she drawled, “Why Gabriel Wyatt, I declare, I should slap your face for such a shamefully inappropriate remark.”

Madison made a point of not lingering over coffee after breakfast. Lingering was too date-like.

“I really need to get home. Ethan will be back from camping,” she said, wiping her lips with a paper napkin. Now she was lying to other people as well as herself; Ethan wasn’t due home until around noon. But she couldn’t stay here listening to Gabe’s voice and looking into his moss-green eyes any longer. Not when her own mind had begun to follow the pattern of the other patrons; several times now she’d caught herself wondering what it would be like to spend the night in Gabe Wyatt’s bed.

She reached for the check; the cash register was by the front door and Gabe paying was one step closer to this being a date.

Gabe put his hand firmly on top of hers. “Apparently you still have a lot to learn about living in the South.”

She liked the way his calloused palm felt against the back of her hand – too much.

“All right then.” She pulled her hand from beneath his. “I’ll just use my money to buy myself something frilly that smells of gardenias.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He opened the door and pushed her out into the rain before she could say anything else.

Once home, Madison opened her laptop and began working on the duties of her new career, editor of the local daily newspaper. If someone had told her four years ago that she’d be content working at a newspaper with a circulation of less than 10,000, editing stories about the mayor’s plan for parking meters and the debate over replacing the bridge on the north side of town, she’d have laughed in their face. But here she was, miles beyond content. All because of Ethan.

And perhaps -- a little voice whispered, trying to keep her honest -- a little because of a certain smooth talking Southern sheriff, too.

She’d never let a man railroad her into a date like that. Really, she had to stop reacting to that voice…

“Enough of that foolishness,” she muttered. She’d just cancel … later. Right now, if she finished proofing these articles for the Buckeye Daily Herald, she could do some research for a freelance article she was contemplating.

The work did not hold her attention. She caught herself watching the clock instead of concentrating on the article in front of her. If she hadn’t been so stubborn and hurried off after breakfast with Gabe, she wouldn’t have this long lonely stretch of time before Ethan came home.

She thought about how they would spend the rest of the day after he returned. Since it was cool and rainy, maybe she would take him to Augustino’s for pizza. She imagined the blast of warm moist air, redolent of yeast and spices that always hit her when she opened the door to the little restaurant. Her mouth watered. She’d thought she’d miss national chains and five-star restaurants when she moved to this little town. Again, what had she known?

At twelve-fifteen, she started making trips to look out the rain-streaked front window for the approach of Mr. McPherson’s white van.

“Hello, Mrs. McPherson, this is Madison Ward. I was wondering, have you heard anything from the boys?”

“Of course, Kate.” She’d only met Kate McPherson in person once; usually it was a wave from the car as they picked the boys up at each other’s houses. “Is Jordan back?”

Kate didn’t sound in the least concerned when she said, “No, but don’t you worry now, hon. Steve gets carried away up there. He’s probably showing the boys thunderstorm survival skills or something.”

“Keep in mind, with this rain and all, it could take ‘em longer to get down the mountain. It’s not like hopping on the bus in the city you know.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s right.” This wasn’t the first time she’d had to be reminded that time moved differently here than in Philadelphia.

Kate said, “I promise I’ll give y’all a call if I hear from them. But really, don’t worry.”

After hanging up, Madison made herself a cup of tea and tried to stop thinking of Ethan with a broken leg after a misstep on the muddy slope of the mountain.

At two-thirty she picked up the telephone again. After only a moment’s hesitation, she dialed Gabriel Wyatt’s cell phone.

“Well hello, Maddie. If you’re calling to cancel our date, no, I don’t.” His teasing knocked the sharp edge off her tension. She didn’t even take him to task over calling her Maddie – only her father called her Maddie, the bastard.

On Gabe’s smooth Southern tongue, the nickname seemed to lose the capacity to annoy.

“If you can trust anyone with your son on that mountain, it’s Steve McPherson. He spends more time up there than he does here in town.”

“Is nothing when you’re hauling camping gear and teenage boys off a mountain in the rain.”

“I do. But if it’d make you feel better, I suppose I could drive up to the trailhead where Steve parks his van and check things out.”

“No problem.” After a short pause he added, “How about if I pick you up and you can keep me company?”

It would make her feel better to be doing something proactive, rather than sitting around imagining all sorts of horrible things. And, she rationalized, it’d give her a chance to cancel their date.

“Leave him a note. He can call your cell phone if he gets home. Besides, it’s a two lane road, we’re sure to spot them going the other way.”

“Maddie,” he sighed. “The boy survived alone on those Yankee city streets. An hour alone in your cozy little house shouldn’t be a huge challenge.”

“You’re right.” She heard the lack of conviction in her own voice. “Of course, you’re right. I’ll check back to make sure Jordan’s mom hasn’t heard anything”

Sheets of rain slashed against Gabe’s SUV. Gusts of wind buffeted the heavy vehicle as if it was made of cardboard. Although the wipers thumped back and forth on high speed, looking through the windshield was like trying to focus through textured glass. Madison found herself leaning forward, straining to see where the winding narrow unpaved road gave way to rocky, tree-filled ditches on each side. Her cold hands blanched white as she gripped the passenger door handle.

Gabe’s Jeep was several years old and took the bumps about as gracefully as a log wagon. More than once, the tires momentarily slipped on the muddy incline.

Driving in the mountains on a clear day made her insides pucker; she’d be nauseous driving in this weather; she wasn’t doing much better as a passenger. Daring to take her eyes away from the road long enough for a quick glance at Gabe, she saw he had a relaxed grip on the wheel. His face bore no sign of strain, in fact, he was smiling.

With a chuckle, he obeyed and said, “How can a guy not have a good time with a woman bossing him around like that?”

“I just want to come back down off this mountain whole and unbroken. Smile at me later.”

He turned that innocent-yet-oh-so-suggestive smile her way again. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

“The road,” she ordered. Mule trail would have been a more appropriate term. It had narrowed so much that the undergrowth was nearly scraping the sides of the car.

A few seconds later, he slowed. The Jeep bounced through the shallow ditch and he pulled through a break in the vegetation that Madison hadn’t even seen. They stopped in a small, relatively flat area that was a quagmire of mud and flattened weeds. Gabe called it a cove. The mountain took a serious thrust upward from this spot.

It was the only vehicle there. “I see he’s the only one crazy enough to still be out in this weather.”

She glanced at the steep path that headed into the woods and up the mountain. “We should go up after them – something might be wrong.”

“Now that would be crazy. You don’t just take off in this terrain with no preparation, no one knowing where you are, especially in this weather.” He pointed to her feet. “You don’t even have on decent shoes.”

She looked down. “I’ll have you know these boots were the envy of all of my co-workers in Philly.”

With a crooked, knowing grin he said, “No doubt. They’re sexy as hell. But those heels are guaranteed to cause a broken ankle within the first hundred yards.”

Again, she felt oddly out of her depth. How could she be so unprepared for a safer, simpler life?

He shook his head. “This isn’t park land – even so, a call for a search is premature. Steve knows what he’s doing. Maybe he’s waiting it out. Some of the trail is pretty steep.”

“Same general area. He knows that helps … just in case we have to go looking for him.”

“I feel so stupid. I didn’t ask half of the questions I should have before I let Ethan go. Jordan’s mom said her husband takes Jordan all of the time. I just assumed….” She shook her head at her own naivety. The rain drummed on the Jeep’s roof. She shivered. “I had no idea it was so -- rough. I had in mind the kinds of camping areas I’ve seen in small state parks, you know, easy access, lots of people around, permits required. Nothing like this.”

He patted her hand. “See why a couple of hours late doesn’t alarm anyone?”

Madison left her hand beneath his and nodded, keeping her eyes on the inclining trail that was quickly swallowed by dark woods. Contrasting to her feelings as she’d viewed it from the warmth and safety of her home, the thick forest suddenly seemed more menacing than tranquil. And Gabe’s logical argument for the group’s delayed return didn’t quell her rising panic. Something had felt off since she’d awakened this morning.

“Oh, I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “I mean, how much razzing will Ethan get if his mom’s waiting for him?” And how would she explain herself to him and keep with their no bullshit pact?

“Maybe it’s not Ethan’s mom who’s waiting. Maybe it’s Sheriff Wyatt fulfilling his county duties.”

“Oh sure,” she said. “The only way that’s going to work is if I hide in the back seat and they don’t see me.”

“Works for me.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Climb over and you can duck down at the first sign of them.”

The instant she laid eyes on the four boys emerging from the forest, the bottom dropped out of her stomach. “Something’s wrong.”

Gabe was already out of the car and striding toward the boys. He moved so quickly, he left the driver’s door standing open.

With her heart in her throat, she threw open her door and jumped out. Cold rain slapped her in the face. With her second step, her foot twisted on a rock. Pain sliced her ankle and shot up her leg, but she didn’t break stride as she ran toward Ethan.

The boys looked like the final scene in a slasher film. None of them had on jackets. In defiance of the downpour, dark smears of mud refused to let go of their clothes and skin. Fishbelly white. It was a term used by her grandfather. She’d never realized what it meant until now. Their lips, darkened by the cold, contrasted grotesquely to the pasty, translucent whiteness of their faces.

Jordan’s arms were slung around the necks of Ethan and another boy. Jordan’s head hung low, his steps dragged in a shuffle.

By the time she caught up with Gabe, he was scooping Jordan into his arms. She looked beyond the boys, no one followed on the trail. “Where’s Mr. McPherson?”

Relieved of their burden, Ethan and the other boy swayed weakly, but didn’t take another step forward.

Jordan, very small for his age to begin with, looked frighteningly frail in Gabe’s arms. His lower lip was slightly swollen, oddly blue-purple against his translucent skin. Inanimate as death, the boy didn’t even blink the rain out of his eyes.

The fourth boy, a kid built like a future linebacker, sat heavily on the ground, heedless of the muddy-brown puddle he landed in. He buried his face in his grimy hands and sobbed. It was a sound teetering between relief and devastation.

Madison wrapped her arms around Ethan; their unspoken ban on sappiness be damned. “Where is Mr. McPherson?”

A chill beyond that of the wind-driven rain drove deep into Madison’s heart, strangling her lungs with an icy grip. Dead? Steve McPherson was dead. Her gaze cut from Ethan to Gabe. He apparently hadn’t heard Ethan’s choked response. He was a few steps away, trying to open a door on McPherson’s van while still cradling Jordan.

“An accident.” The wind tried to gobble up Ethan’s words, but his face blazed with fierce conviction. This was a side of him she hadn’t seen of late; that slight jutting of chin and rigidity of shoulders, the stance of a child used to being dismissed, disbelieved and disregarded.

“I’m putting him in my car.” Gabe started toward the Jeep. “He’s like ice. Bring the others.”

The linebacker in the puddle made no move to get up. He’d wrapped his arms around his knees and was rocking back and forth.

Madison put an arm around Ethan and boy standing next to him. “Get in the car.” She set them in motion toward the Jeep. Then she knelt before the boy sitting in the puddle. She was already chilled, but the cold of the wet ground quickly made her knees ache. This boy had to be near numb.

The boy didn’t respond, keeping his face buried in his arms. Rain ran in a stream off his hair, splattering into the puddle between his feet.

He was much too big for her to heft up off the ground. She laid a hand on his arm. “It’s warm in the Jeep. The other boys are already over there.”

Slowly the boy raised his eyes to meet hers. He looked bewildered. It took a moment for his gaze to register her presence.

“I’m Ethan’s mom,” she said, leaning closer. “Let’s go. The sheriff’ll get you boys home.”

“We just left him,” the boy squeezed his eyes closed, his mouth screwed into a tight frown and his chin trembled. “We just left him there….”

“It’s okay, J.D.. You did what you had to do. You did what Mr. McPherson would have wanted you to do.” She put her hands under his elbows. “Let’s go to the car.”

He faltered as he got to his feet. Struggling to keep her own feet beneath her on the soggy ground, Madison managed to steady him until he was able to move forward.

Ethan and the other boy were already in the back seat. She guided J.D. to the front passenger seat, which was soaked with rain but the heat was blowing full force.

“Just sit here for a minute.” She closed the door and went around to where Gabe had the rear hatch open. He’d laid Jordan in the cargo compartment and covered him with his own coat.

He was rubbing Jordan’s hands and saying, “Jordan? Come on buddy, look at me. You’re going to be all right. Come on, Jordan.”

Jordan’s eyes remained unfocused and he only moved when Gabe physically moved him.

Ethan was on his knees, leaning over the back seat, his worried gaze fixed on his friend. “He stopped talking hours ago. The last time we stopped to rest he wouldn’t even look at me.”

Madison leaned close to Gabe’s ear. “Ethan said Steve McPherson’s dead.”

“An accident,” said softly, then glanced meaningfully toward Jordan. “I don’t know more than that.”

No one seemed willing to say outright in front of an already traumatized Jordan that his step-dad was lying alone and dead on the mountain. Even though, from the looks of the boy, he wasn’t hearing anything at all.

“What’s wrong with him?” Panic sharpened Ethan’s tone. “Why is he doing that?”

“Shock. We’ve got to get him to the hospital.” Gabe turned to Madison. “You drive. I’ll stay back here with Jordan.”

“No way. I’ll stay with Jordan.” She climbed into the back of the Jeep, lifting Jordan’s head and shoulders into her lap. She pulled the hem of her sweater from beneath her jacket and dried the boy’s face. “Shouldn’t you call someone to go after …?”

“I can’t from here; no radio. I will as soon as we get out of this dead area.”

The Jeep lurched when Gabe put it in gear, then rocked and bucked over the uneven ground as he turned it around.

“We need to get him to a hospital,” she said. “Sit down and fasten your seat belt.”

Once they reached an area where the radio repeaters would transmit a signal to dispatch, Gabe got the ball rolling for a recovery team. He gave the location of the body, then said, “I want Carter in charge.”

Gabe thought of Jordan’s mental condition and the quietness of the other boys. “Just have him secure the scene, photograph and let the ME begin his investigation. I don’t want the body moved or anything disturbed until I get there. Tell Carter that unless we get real lucky, he’s not going to have radio up there.”

“And call Bobby Gray and Kate McPherson and have them meet us at the hospital.” He hoped Jordan seeing his parents would ease him out of his disconnected state. And divorced or not, Kate and Bobby had remained friends; Kate was going to need him there when she got the news of Steve’s death.

Gabe signed off and looked over at J.D. Henry. The boy’s head rested against the window, his eyes closed. Every exhaled breath increased the circumference of fog on the glass.

A look of revulsion contorted J.D.’s face. “He had this big gash in his head.” He put his hand on the side of his own head. “There was blood all over.”

J.D. shook his head. “Colin and I were in camp. We didn’t know anything until Ethan started yelling for help.”

“Jordan was running around yelling and crying. Ethan was kneeling beside Mr. McP on the ground.” J.D. swallowed convulsively. “He didn’t even look like a person--” He groaned and grabbed for the door handle. “Stop! I’m gonna puke!”

Gabe looked in the rearview mirror. Colin had his eyes closed and didn’t open them. Ethan had his arm over the back of the seat, his hand on Madison’s shoulder. His attention focused on Jordan.

When J.D. pulled himself back in the car, he was still ashen. Gabe handed him a bottle of water. “Rinse and spit. Don’t drink.”

By pulling into the ambulance bay at the hospital, Gabe managed to get the boys into the ER without Kate and Bobby seeing Jordan. He wanted to break the news of Steve’s accident and prepare them for Jordan’s detached state. After the boys were all in the hands of health professionals, and the other parents had been notified, he went to the emergency waiting room to get Jordan’s parents.

The instant Gabe set eyes on Kate, it became clear she was going to need Bobby even more than he’d imagined. She sat folded in on herself, looking as small and frightened as a child. Jordan had taken after her; fair and slight of build, with a fragile temperament. Bobby’s tall, dark and athletic genes had to be buried somewhere very deep in the boy’s DNA.

When Bobby saw Gabe, he sprung out of his chair. “Where’s Jordan? Is he okay?”

“He’s being attended to. He’s suffering from exposure and exhaustion, a couple of bruises and scrapes, but he’s not badly injured.”

Kate closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, her pleading gaze fastened on Gabe and she asked in a raspy whisper, “And Steve?”

Bobby shot a panicky look at Gabe before he silently helped Kate to her feet and across the tile floor toward the double doors to the ER. Gabe felt the pitying eyes of everyone in the waiting room follow them. Bad news traveled fast in a town the size of Buckeye, but not this fast. Even without details, the bystanders had to know news from the sheriff in the ER probably wasn’t good.

Once away from the public area, Gabe directed them into a small conference room. It held four teal-colored vinyl chairs, a small round table with two six-month-old magazines and a box of tissues, and an X-ray viewing box. He directed the couple to sit.

“There was an accident on the mountain. Steve suffered a fall … I’m sorry, Kate, but he’s still up there. I’ve sent a recovery team and am headed back up there myself as soon as I get a few more answers here.”

“He’s going to be all right though, isn’t he?” Desperate hope colored her voice.

“Good. Now, Jordan’s safe, he’s not injured, but he’s in shock.” That was the only word he could think to describe the weird, detached state that seemed to have latched onto their son. “The four boys walked down off the mountain in the storm. Jordan has been through a lot. He’ll need you two to be there for him.” He glanced at Bobby, who nodded and put a hand on Kate’s shoulder.

“We’re still sorting things out. What’s important right now is taking care of Jordan. I wanted you to have time to collect yourselves before you see him.”

Bobby slid his hand across her shoulders and pulled her close. She leaned into him in a way that sparked a flash of memory. When Gabe had been in a freshman in high school and Bobby and Kate had been seniors, a friend of Kate’s had been killed in an automobile accident. The news had come during a basketball game. Kate had collapsed. Bobby, the lead scorer and team captain, left the basketball floor, picked her up and carried her out of the gym. Not for the first time, Gabe wondered how two people who had spent their entire lives as best friends could have a marriage that ended in divorce. What did it take to hold a marriage together these days?

That thought brought another. “Do you want me to call anyone for you? Is Todd on his way here?” Gabe wondered if Steve’s nineteen-year-old son would be a help to Kate and Jordan, or an upsetting presence.

A thin whine came from deep in Kate’s throat. “He’s at work … at the video store. He’ll be so upset….”

“I’ll give y’all a few minutes.” Gabe left the room before Kate got herself together enough to ask why, if Steve was injured, one of the boys hadn’t stayed with him.

Jesus, sometimes Gabe hated the fact that the size of this community meant he was familiar with most everyone. Not for the first time, he longed for the anonymity of breaking bad news to people he didn’t know.

As he made his way to Ethan’s ER cubical, Gabe considered the stress this unfortunate incident would put on Ethan and Madison. They were new here and the transition from city to small town – Southern small town at that – had been a little rocky for both of them. For the first few weeks, Ethan couldn’t seem to shake the edgy posture of someone waiting for trouble. He had moved through their community looking as if he was expecting someone to come up and knock him off his feet. Only recently had Gabe noticed the wary rigidity of the boy’s body begin to relax. And when Ethan began to relax, so did his mother.

Gabe paused just outside the treatment room, looking at Madison through a gap in the curtain. Her skin looked washed out under the harsh florescent lighting. He didn’t know if her lack of color was from the cold or worry.

Her dark hair had begun to curl as it dried, giving her a softer, more feminine look than her usual straight style. He wanted to tell her she should wear her hair that way all of the time … but then, it really wasn’t his place. Not that he hadn’t been doing everything in his power to maneuver himself into that place.

Ever since he’d laid eyes on her at a county commissioners meeting, asking the kinds of questions that only an outsider would even think of asking, Gabe had been trying to coax her closer. It was a bit like trying to tame a wild animal -- although more along the lines of a cougar than a soft-eyed doe. Like a mountain cat, he could see the hunger in her eye, yet she kept her distance, wary of what he offered in his open hand.

Madison Wade was a strong, confident woman and she’d been determined not to open her life to complications. He had to wait until that hunger overcame caution. And just to speed things along, he’d made certain he was close enough for her to smell the meat as often as possible.

He’d just begun to convince her that she didn’t have to choose between being a mother and being a woman. He hoped this experience wouldn’t make her shy away again.

He parted the curtain, stepped inside and said to Ethan, “You’re looking better.”

Ethan was in a dry hospital gown and wrapped in warmed blankets. Unlike Madison, the color was beginning to return to his skin.

“The doctor is with him now. His parents are here … maybe that will help him.”

Gabe said, “I’ll make sure the nurses take you to see him as soon as the doctor says it’s okay, how’s that?”

Ethan lifted a shoulder. “Okay.” He paused. “Is someone going after Mr. McPherson?”

“Yes. Tell me what happened up there.” Gabe sat down in a chair next to Madison, he rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together to keep from reaching to comfort her in front of Ethan.

“We didn’t want to leave him there like that -- honest. That’s why it was so late before we came back down; Colin and J.D. and I argued about it for a long time. It seemed wrong … but Jordan had totally freaked out. No way could he make it back to the van on his own, and he needed help more than any of us. We sat with Mr. McP all night, you know, to keep the animals away. But nobody ….” Ethan pressed his lips together.

Ethan’s gaze moved from one thing in the room to another, never coming close to landing on Gabe’s face. “Nobody wanted to stay up there alone with a dead person. So we left him.”

Madison stood beside the bed and put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “You didn’t have a choice. Jordan needed help.”

Ethan visibly swallowed and shook his head. “Me and Jordan were picking up firewood. Colin and J.D. were in camp.”

“We heard something, a weird sort of yelp, and went looking. We found him near the bottom of the waterfall.”

“I’m not sure. I mean, you could hear the waterfall at the campsite – not real loud; it sounded like rain on trees.”

“Jordan, he was going nuts … I mean, crying and stuff. I couldn’t leave him, so I ran part way back and just started yelling.”

Madison followed him outside the curtain. She wrapped her arms around her middle. “I hate it that they had to go through that. Poor Jordan….” She shook her head.

“Just keep reassuring them that they did the right thing by getting Jordan back.”

He looked down at her jeans. They were still wet, and mud covered the hem and knees. “You should change out of those wet clothes. I’m sure someone has an extra pair of scrubs around here.”

“One of the nurses has already gone to get me some.” She glanced down at her ruined boots, then lifted a foot. “Guess you were right. I didn’t even make it twenty yards in these things.”

“Think they’re salvageable?” He raised a brow. “I was looking forward to taking you dancing in them.”

A young nurse came up and handed a set of blue scrubs to Madison. “You can change in the third door on the right.”

Gabe stopped the nurse before she walked away. “As soon as Jordan Gray is able to see anyone, will you have someone get Ethan? He’s desperate to see his friend.”

“Sure thing.” The nurse departed in the direction of the trauma room that housed Jordan.

Gabe turned to Madison. “Listen, I have to get back up there. Do you have someone who can pick you up and take you home?”

She gave him a crooked smile and a little color returned to her cheeks. “Yeah. It took him a while to call me anything at all after the adoption. Finally, he started with M. He says it’s like the character in James Bond.” She looked down. “I guess at fourteen, starting to call me Mom was a little odd for him.”

Gabe brushed her cheek with the knuckle of his index finger. “James Bond, huh? Gotta keep up the tough guy image.”

Her smile was tinged with sorrow. “I suppose so. That tough image protected him for so long….” Her voice trailed off with a sadness that said she wished Ethan’s life had been different – easier.

She raised her eyes to meet Gabe’s and the connection he’d felt from the first time they’d locked gazes hit him once again. It was both unfamiliar and potent, and went straight to his gut. It made him want to do extraordinary things. If anyone had ever told him he’d pursue a woman like he was this one, he would have called them fifteen kinds of a fool.

With concentrated effort, he dropped his hand back to his side. “I’ll check on you two later.”

He stopped and turned around. She was standing there, wet and dirty, looking more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her.

“Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t taken me up there. It could have been hours--”

“But it wasn’t. You listened to your instincts and the boys are all safe--” he started to add and sound, but considering Jordan’s condition, he felt that would draw fire from the level-headed journalist. “You did good.”

The nurse who took Ethan’s temperature was a soft-looking grandma type with dark brown skin and a gentle touch. She looked at him with a sympathetic smile and pitying eyes.

Unsettled, he looked away. He was accustomed to strangers looking at him with wariness, suspicion. Even though he’d been with M for nearly two years, he was still getting used to kindness. Consideration continued to settle upon him with a sense of expectation, of measuring what would be demanded in return. Mistrust was a habit he could not seem to break.

“There now,” the nurse said, after the thermometer beeped. “You appear to be warming right up.”

Kids down here were all about “ma’am” and “sir.” Jordan would have given a clear, “Yes, ma’am.” Ethan only managed a nod. Southern manners still felt like wearing scratchy wool without anything underneath.

The nurse wrote something down on a clipboard that hung on the wall. “I’ll see about getting you something to eat. Growing boy like you must be starved. You just close your eyes and rest, now.” She slipped outside the curtain.

Rest? Ethan didn’t dare close his eyes. Every time he did, he saw the bloody crater in Mr. McP’s skull – and the terror on Jordan’s face.

There had been plenty of times he’d seen Jordan scared. It seemed Jordan lived most of his life scared -- but never anything like last night. Jordan had been scared right out of his mind; scared enough that it had scared Ethan – and Ethan couldn’t remember the last time he’d been truly afraid.

The sharp edges of fear had a way of wearing off when you lived in a constant state of risk. For as long as Ethan could remember, uncertainty and chance had ruled his world. As he’d gotten older, things had become more dicey; it was more difficult to slip through life invisible and unnoticed. It seemed the more hazardous life got, the more danger it took for fear to slice into Ethan’s heart. He decided that living the life he had had developed a sort of anti-fear forcefield in him. But that had been before … before M had come into his life.

Last night, he’d been as afraid as he could ever remember being. Maybe living with M -- living with less risk, less danger – had worked in reverse, sucking away the power of his protective forcefield. Maybe he was turning into an ordinary kid.

There was only one problem with his anti-fear forcefield buildup theory. Jordan. The kid didn’t seem to be building any fear-deflecting powers. In fact, he seemed to be moving in the opposite direction. But even for Jordan, his reaction last night had been crazy – way too crazy even for seeing his step-dad like that.

That was another thing Ethan hadn’t figured out – the step-dad. It was one of the reasons he’d wanted to go on this camping trip in the first place. Jordan was his friend, and Ethan always looked out for his friends. But to take care of Jordan, he needed to sort some stuff out about Jordan’s family.

He and Jordan came from places as different as the earth and the moon. But they were alike in a lot of ways. Neither of them fit where they’d been planted. Jordan seemed as uncomfortable in his life as if he’d been dropped into it by an alien mother ship. Ethan had often wondered if it had been different before Jordan’s mom married Mr. McP. Had Jordan been happy and comfortable at home? Or had he always skittered, rat-like, along the edges of his family as he does now? It wasn’t something the two of them talked about, so Ethan needed to find out on his own.

Unfortunately, things had gone terribly wrong. Still, Jordan needed to be protected. And Ethan had to figure out a way to do it.

He glanced at the curtain that closed him off from the rest of the emergency room. Where was Jordan? Ethan had been straining to hear his voice, or the mention of his name. So far nothing. The ER didn’t seem that large when they’d come in. Had they taken Jordan off someplace else?

M came back in. He was glad to see she’d changed out of her wet stuff and had on some dry nurse clothes.

“He told them.” She came closer and pushed his hair off his forehead. As always, he turned away; reacting as if she was admonishing him for his long hair. But somewhere along the way, he’d actually gotten so he looked forward to her doing it. In fact, he guessed that was one of the reason’s he refused to wear his hair shorter.

“I know you’re worried about Jordan, but he’s where he needs to be right now. It might be a while before he can have visitors.”

She sighed and looked really tired. “Ethan, I don’t think you should expect too much. He might need a few days--”

“No!” He sat up straighter and threw off the blankets. “I need to see him now.”

As he started to get out of bed, M put her hand on his shoulder. “All right, all right. We won’t leave until you see him, okay?”

He eased back and looked her in the eye. “No bull?” Unlike lots of adults, M didn’t say stuff just to get you to do what she wanted; if she said no bull, he could trust her to her word.

She smiled, looking like herself for the first time since they’d gotten here. “No bull. But I don’t want you to be upset if he’s the same as when we got here. It might take time.”

The nice nurse reappeared with a tray of food. “We’re between food service shifts. I had to go down to the kitchen myself.” She slid the table over his lap and set the tray on it. “Since the dietitian didn’t have any part of it, I could pick out the good stuff.” She gave him a wink.

“Thank you.” Again, he had to shake off that feeling of being set up; remind himself that sometimes people did things just to be nice.

The nurse nodded to M and then smiled at him again before she left. This time he made himself look her in the eye and smile back.

Most kids complained about “cafeteria food” and “hospital food,” but Ethan had been hungry often enough that he knew better. That’s why he felt so guilty when he couldn’t eat it; that and the fact that the nurse had gone to so much trouble. He uncovered everything and rearranged it enough that he hoped it looked like he ate some of it. He really didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but if he swallowed anything right now, he’d spew for sure.

Gabe was anxious to get a first-hand read of the situation. He had no reason to believe McPherson’s death was more than a tragic accident. Nevertheless, it was his job to investigate every death thoroughly. He’d delayed questioning the other boys for fear he’d run out of daylight before he could get McPherson off the mountain. He didn’t want to have to assign someone to spend the night up there, plus he needed confirmation of death so he could inform Kate without further delay.

He tried to radio Carter while driving to the trailhead. He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get a response. Once he got within range, which would most likely be partway up the trail itself, he’d try his small two-way.

While he’d been inside the hospital, the rain had cleared. Now the sun shone in the late afternoon sky. Good news. They would have at least thirty more minutes of daylight than if it had remained overcast. They were going to need every second of it.

Gabe pulled into the trailhead. Carter had brought one of the department’s SUVs, which was parked next to McPherson’s white full-size van. The coroner’s wagon and a Search and Rescue truck from the fire department were there too. Gabe parked next to Carter’s vehicle and tried his two-way. He was pleasantly surprised when Carter’s crackly response came through.

“Dr. Zinn came up with me. She’s almost finished. Four FD rescue guys just got here. We’re burning daylight. How long before you’re on scene?” Carter asked.

“You’re cuttin’ it close. The doc and I agree; McPherson fell. These damn rocks are slippery as hell. Doc estimates TOD was most likely last night. I took plenty of photos. You sure we can’t just load him up and start down?”

Carter was the best trained officer he had. And Gabe had confidence in his deputy’s ability to investigate a scene. Still, they hadn’t had a homicide in Forrest County since Carter had come on staff – hell, there had only been a handful in the eleven years Gabe had been with the department. With various pieces of this puzzle still having blurry edges, Gabe wanted to have a look for himself before the body was moved.

The muscles in Gabe’s legs burned and his lungs were huffing, but he made it to McPherson’s campsite in just over fifty minutes. The sight of the abandoned camp gave him a rippling chill. The pup tents’ flaps were open; the sleeping bags inside sodden with rain. A skillet full of water sat on a rock next to the ashes of a dead fire. An open bag of marshmallows had a steady stream of ants entering and leaving. A box of graham crackers had been trampled under someone’s careless foot, smashing the crackers and splitting open the sealed packages, before the rain turned it all into a gray-brown, spongy pulp.

In another three minutes he was standing next to Steve McPherson’s cold corpse.

The body was near the small, shallow pool at the base of the falls, far enough away that the mist spray didn’t reach it. The boys had folded a jacket and placed it under McPherson’s head and put one over his chest and another over his legs. It appeared that they had wrapped a t-shirt around the head wound. The medical examiner had peeled the makeshift bandage away and it now lay in a bloody lump on the ground.

McPherson was an experienced climber and hiker, probably the best in the entire area. He’d not only mastered the Appalachians, but had conquered most of the peaks in the Pacific Northwest. Of course, accidents happen to even the most experienced outdoorsmen. But the idea of him being off by himself without any of the boys didn’t make sense. His entire purpose for taking kids up there was to teach them respect for the elements and the land, to give them wilderness survival skills. Why would he have gone off alone?

Gabe walked closer to Dr. Zinn, who was kneeling beside her large backpack, carefully loading her equipment. Her hiking boots and cargo pants were caked with mud. She was a woman whose active lifestyle allowed her to wear her fifty-five years well enough to pass for ten years younger. He’d gotten to know her long before she’d been appointed county ME; back when he’d been a new deputy and had to deliver the news that her then fourteen-year-old son, Jimmy, had tried to jump Bear Creek with his dirt bike and had ended up in the ER. The boy’s trouble was compounded by the fact he was on private property without permission when he’d done it. It was the first call of that nature Gabe had had to make. It had been more difficult than he’d imagined.

Gabe’s respect for the Dottie Zinn had begun that day, when she’d made his job easier by dealing calmly, and showing uncommon regard for his uneasiness.

Standing, she gave him a nod. “Gabe.” Her gaze moved to the body. “Looks pretty straight forward; head trauma. Of course, the autopsy will confirm. I’ve bagged his hands, just in case.”

“Based solely on rigor and livor mortis, I’d say anywhere between six last evening and six this morning. Pathologist will likely be able to call it closer.”

He scanned the immediate area, looking for a possible scenario for McPherson’s fall.

The ground was a mix of dirt, gravel and various sized boulders and rocks. Stony outcroppings flanked the falls. There plant life clung tightly; saplings, mountain laurel, and ferns sprouted from what appeared to be solid rock. At the base of the falls, there was a jumble of stone chunks that, with the passing of time, the rushing water and vegetation had pried away from the body of the cliff.

The exposed layers of dark stone beside the falling water were in many places unstable. Steve would have known better than to have climbed there. Still, Gabe gestured toward the top of the falls and asked the question, “Possible that he fell from up there?”

She shook her head. “Doubtful. His body is too far from the drop. Even with this rain, we’d see some evidence that the kids had dragged him this far. Unless they were strong enough to carry the dead weight.” She raised a brow in his direction.

With a half-shrug, he said, “With as rough as the footing is here, probably not.”

“Most obvious trauma is to left temporal region, but there are other suspicious areas on the head.” She pointed to the gash in McPherson’s skull. “My best guess is he lost his footing and fell sideways – maybe even tumbled and had more than one impact.”

“I suppose the rain didn’t help in locating the rock that inflicted the wound?”

She shook her head. “Carter’s gone over everything. He photographed all of the rocks within ten feet of the body, as well as those near the falls.”

Gabe walked slowly around the body, then worked his way out, looking for anything that could speak of what had happened here. Interspersed between stones were a jumbled assortment of footprints in the mud. They were concentrated near the body, lots of them positioned in a way that said people had been sitting on the rocks. The only discernable trail of prints led up the narrow path toward the camp. Of course, with the rain arriving this morning, only the tracks made today would have left deep depressions in the mud.

He saw nothing that would contradict the theory that this was an accident. “Carter, bag the jackets and the t-shirt. Then you can go back down with Dr. Zinn.” He turned to the four rescuers shifting restlessly nearby. “All right, let’s get him off this mountain.”

While the SAR team secured McPherson’s body to the stretcher, Gabe continued to look around. He started at the body and worked his way out in a spiral pattern. The woods thickened quickly as he moved away from the creek. About twenty feet from the body, he knelt down, inspecting the broken branches of a mountain laurel. The injury was fresh, the green wood still moist, and the foliage showing no signs of wilt. There could be any number of reasons for broken branches; an animal, J.D. had said Jordan was running around in a panic – it might have no significance at all.

He moved a little deeper into the woods, slipping on the wet, uneven ground more than once. Nothing out of the ordinary caught his attention. Then, just as he was about to loop around and return to the falls, he saw something small and light colored on the ground near a two-foot diameter boulder. He moved closer.

Cigarette filters, discolored from use and swollen from the rain. Impossible to tell how old they were. Brand marking said they were Marlboros – probably the most popular cigarette in town. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Zip-lock baggie. He turned it inside out, placed his hand inside and picked up the butts without contaminating them with his own touch.

He remained kneeling, the slope of the land making him work at keeping his balance. He examined the ground around him carefully, then scanned the surrounding foliage and trees. Once he was satisfied that he wasn’t missing anything, he straightened, stretching the knots out of his back. After spending the next several minutes working an increasing circumference from the spot of the cigarette butts and not finding anything noteworthy, he worked back toward the body in a zig-zag pattern.

The light beneath the heavy canopy of trees was dimming rapidly. When Gabe reached the falls, the rescue team had already left with McPherson’s body. For a moment, he stood alone and admired the beauty of this place. It was easy to be seduced by such splendor, forget that beauty sometimes disguises danger. Had Steve forgotten that most valuable of lessons? Or had it simply been an odd twist of fate, one of Mother Nature’s little ironies?

He made one last pass around the area, then started back down the mountain himself.

Ethan was beginning to think M was never coming back. How long could it take to call somebody to pick them up and find out where Jordan was?

His stomach tightened with nerves. What if Jordan had snapped out of it and started talking?

He was just throwing off the covers, determined to go find Jordan himself, when M reappeared. She had a paper bag in her hand and didn’t look happy.

“Jordan doesn’t appear to have any real physical injuries, but …” she said slowly, as if hesitant to speak the words, “he’s still uncommunicative.”

M gave him her “sorry-to-disappoint-you” look. “Maybe we should come back later. I’ll bring you--”

“No!” He jumped off the bed and faced her. “No! You said no bull!” He punched a finger in the air between them. “You said I could see him.”

“Take it easy,” she said. “I did promise. And you can see him. I just thought it might be better for you to wait.”

“All right. I picked up some sweats at the gift shop.” She handed him the bag. “Get dressed. I’ll go sign the papers to get you out. I’ll be right back and we’ll go see him.”

He gave a brusque nod and grabbed the bag. His hands were shaking so much he could hardly get the ties of his hospital gown undone.

Since his shoes were trashed, he was still wearing those dorky socks with grippers on the bottom that the hospital had given him. He felt stupid running around in the hallways without shoes. As they passed the open doors, he tried not to peek inside to see the people lying in the hospital beds, but his curiosity overcame his manners. It looked like everyone in here was old … and dying. Was Jordan dying too?

This place had the same weird overly clean smell that doctor’s offices had. But here there was an unmistakable underlying odor of … sickness, was the only way Ethan could think to describe it. He didn’t like it.

M stopped in front of a closed door. “Jordan has a private room. Do you want me to go in with you?”

Ethan stared at the closed door and shook his head. He was torn between wanting the slam it open and hurry inside and running the other direction.

He pressed his lips together, took a breath, then put his hand on the door and pushed it open. The room seemed dim after the bright lights of the hallway. It was nearly dark outside. The fluorescent light over the bed was on, but not real bright, like a nightlight. Jordan looked like old sour cream; white and green at the same time. His eyes were open, staring, just like they’d been when Ethan last saw him.

He was halfway across the room when he realized that Jordan’s mom and dad were sitting in chairs shoved into the corner beside the door; a place where the light didn’t quite reach. Todd McPherson was standing next to Jordan’s mom, leaning against the wall.

“It’s okay, Ethan,” Jordan’s mom said softly. “Go on. Maybe he’ll talk to you.”

Ethan nodded, then walked up to the side of the bed. He was worried that Jordan’s parents would come up and stand there too, but they stayed where they were. His back was to them, giving him just a little privacy.

Leaned over, so he’d be in Jordan’s stationary line of sight. “Hey. It’s me.”

Ethan said, “Everything’s going to be okay. You need to rest and get better.”

“You still look cold.” Ethan leaned across and pulled covers higher. When he did, he hovered close to Jordan’s ear and whispered, “Whatever you do, don’t say anything. I’ve taken care of it.”

As he straightened, he sent a cautious glance over his shoulder. Nobody was looking at him; nobody heard.

iTRC Radio!

Listen today
(high speed connection recommended)

To Play a Show: click on "Play MP3" To Download a Show: right click, and "Save Target As" to desktop!
Click here to Subscribe and automatically receive our shows as they are released! More Shows!

Sign up for our FREE NEWSLETTER!
and receive individual emails or the daily digest and be automatically entered into our monthly drawings. To subscribe, just send a blank email to: TRCreaders-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

Calendar ♥ Previews ♥ Contests ♥ News ♥ Author Services ♥ Bookseller News