Murdered In Conard County. Rachel Lee

Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       About the Publisher

       Prologue

      Three years earlier

      “Have either of you ever heard of Leopold and Loeb? They thought they could commit the perfect murder.”

      A large fire burned in the huge stone fireplace, casting dancing tongues of orange light and inky shadows around the cabin’s sitting room. The wood sizzled and crackled, adding its dry music to the light and occasionally loud pops that sounded almost like gunshots.

      The log walls, burnished by the years, added weight to the entire scene. Trophy heads of bighorn sheep, elk and deer hung everywhere, beneath each a plaque memorializing a past hunter.

      Clearly this was a hunting lodge, one of generous size, able to house a fairly large party. But its heyday was in the past and now only three men occupied it.

      It seemed like the last place on earth three men would plot murders.

      Dressed in camouflage, their orange caps and vests tossed onto a nearby chest, they sat in a semicircle of comfortable lounge chairs in front of the fire, sipping brandy from snifters. Two of them enjoyed fat cigars with a surprisingly pleasant aroma.

      “It was really cold out there,” remarked one of them, a man with dark hair and a luxuriant mustache who appeared to be about thirty, maybe a couple of years older. He’d been the one who had asked the question about Leopold and Loeb, but having received no response, he dropped it. For now.

      “Good for the deer, Will,” said the man nearest him. His name was Karl, and he looked like his Nordic ancestors, with pale hair and skin and frigid blue eyes. The deer he referred to had been field dressed and was hanging in a shed outside, protected from scavengers.

      “Yeah,” said Jeff, the third of them. He had the kind of good looks that could have gotten him cast on a TV drama, but he also had a kink in his spine from a military injury and he didn’t quite sit or stand straight. He often endured pain but seldom showed it. “It’s probably already frozen stiff.”

      “Like a board,” Karl agreed. “Thank goodness we have a sling on our side-by-sides.”

      “And tomorrow maybe we’ll get an elk,” Jeff added. They’d won the drawing for a coveted license for an elk, and since they’d been hoping for one for years, this was no small deal.

      Silence fell for a while, except for the crackling of the fire. Three men, looking very content, enjoying their hunting lodge after a successful day. Except one of them was not quite content.

      Will spoke. “Do you two ever get tired of this hunting trip? Every year since we were boys, coming up here with our dads. Now just the three of us.”

      “Something wrong with the company?” Karl drawled.

      “Of course not,” Will answered. “It’s just that I was thinking we’ve been doing this so many years, and we’ve never gone home empty-handed. Not much of a challenge, is it?”

      Jeff nearly gaped. They’d spent the better part of three days tracking the buck that was now hanging in the shed. “We almost missed that mature eight-pointer. He was smart.”

      “We still got him,” Will pointed out.

      Karl spoke. “The elk will be even more of a challenge. What do you want, Will? To stop making these trips? I thought we were doing it more for the time away together. Three guys, brandy and cigars, traipsing around in the woods on the cusp of winter... A lot of guys would envy us.”

      “We aren’t a lot of guys. In fact, I believe we’re smarter than the average bear. All of us.”

      “So?”

      “So, how about we hunt a different kind of prey? Not to kill but for the challenge.”

      “What are you talking about?” Jeff asked.

      “You ever hear of Leopold and Loeb?” This time Will spoke more emphatically.

      Both Karl and Jeff shook their heads. “Who were they?” Karl asked.

      “Two guys who thought they were smart enough to commit the perfect murder. Back in the 1920s. But they got caught in twenty-four hours.”

      The other two men froze into silence.

      “We’re smarter,” said Will presently. “Think of all the planning we’d have to do, a lot more than hunting deer or elk. And even without the murder it would be a helluva challenging game.”

      Silence, except for the fire, reigned for a while. Then Jeff said, “You are talking about a game, not a real murder, right?”

      Will waved the hand holding his cigar. “The game would be the planning and stalking. Just like when we hunt deer. The kill hardly matters at that point. We only follow through because we want the meat and the rack. You can’t hang a man’s head on the wall.”

      That elicited a laugh from Karl. “True that.” Even Jeff smiled after a moment.

      “The most challenging game of all,” Will continued. “How do we do it without leaving any evidence? How do we creep up on our prey?”

      Karl snorted. “Men aren’t as smart as deer, Will.”

      “But they’re almost never alone.”

      After a bit, Jeff said, “Sorta like playing D&D when we were younger?”

      “Like that,” Will agreed. “Plotting and planning and stalking. That’s all.”

      Presently all the men were sitting easily in their chairs and began to toss ideas around. If nothing else, it was an entertaining way to spend an icy evening.

       Chapter One

      Blaire Afton slept with the window cracked because she liked the cool night breeze, and the sounds of animals in the woods. As park ranger for the state of Wyoming, she supervised a forested area with a dozen scattered campgrounds and quite a few hiking trails, most all the camps and trails farther up the mountain.

      Her cabin was also the main office, the entry point to the park, and her bedroom was upstairs in a loft. The breeze, chilly as it got at night, even in July, kept her from feeling closed in. The fresh air seemed to make her sleep deeper and more relaxed, as well.

      It also seemed to keep away the nightmares that still occasionally plagued her. Ten months in Afghanistan had left their mark.

      But tonight she was edgy as all get-out, and sleep stubbornly evaded her. Maybe just as well, she thought irritably. Nights when she felt like this often produced bad dreams, which in turn elicited worse memories.

      Sitting up at last, she flipped on the fluorescent lantern beside her bed and dressed in her park ranger’s uniform and laced up her boots. If sleep caught up with her finally, she could crash on the sofa downstairs. Right now, however, early coffee was sounding delicious.

      There was absolutely no way she could make her boots silent on the open wooden staircase, but it didn’t matter. All her staff were home for the night and she could bother only herself. Right now, bothering herself seemed like a fairly good idea.

      The electric lines reached the cabin, having been run up the side of this mountain by the state, along with a phone landline that extended out to all the campgrounds in case of emergencies. Neither was perfectly reliable, but when they worked, they were a boon. Especially the electricity. Phone