(1995) The Oath (18 page)

“I still can’t believe it,” Evelyn said softly. “I can’t believe Cliff’s gone.” Her eyes filled with tears.

“I know,” Steve said softly and put his arms around her. “I know.”

Evelyn leaned against him for a moment, feeling the comradeship of grief. Then she straightened. “I’ve still got to make the funeral arrangements, and the boys really need me right now.”

“I’ll be glad to help any way I can,” Steve said.

Evelyn smiled. “Thanks. I really appreciate that. But you’ve done so much already.” She nodded in the direction of her parents, who were standing by the camper talking quietly. “Mom and Dad will be helping me with what needs to be done. And I’m going to take a few weeks off from my job.” Evelyn was a CPA with a firm in Oak Springs. “Tim Johnson—he’s one of the partners—says he’ll cover my accounts until I go back. He says I should take as much time as I need. They’re a great bunch, just like family.”

“Sounds like a good group,” Steve agreed. “I’m glad.”

Evelyn nodded. “So, as the saying goes, I’ll just try to take it one day at a time.” She smiled. “Or even one step at a time. I’m in God’s hands. Nobody ever dies without someone questioning why, but, well, God has His ways, and we just have to trust Him.”

Steve listened intently, deeply moved. Evelyn would rebuild her life; he had no doubts about that.

He thought of Tracy Ellis’s words: You can walk away, Steve. You can put it all behind you. If only it were so. If only he could move on, like Evelyn, not burdened with what he had seen, what he knew, what he still needed to know. For her sake, though, Steve kept his thoughts to himself.

Then Evelyn asked Steve about his own plans. “Oh, I have a few matters to clear up here,” he said vaguely, hoping she wouldn’t ask him what they were.

She didn’t. Instead, she hugged him once more and said, “Steve, thanks again for everything. I’ll call you about the memorial service.”

Tears filled Steve’s eyes, and pulling back, he put his hand lightly on Evelyn’s shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. “Take good care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” she promised. “You, too.” Then she walked to the truck. Just before she climbed into the cab next to her son, Evelyn turned and gave him one last wave good-bye.

Steve knew she’d thanked him for killing the bear, for clearing up the whole question of Cliff’s death. As far as he was concerned, her thanks were premature, and that pained him.

Evelyn, Audrey, and Travis drove away in the truck and camper, and Elbert followed. For them, Hyde Valley was history, a memory to be buried.

For Steve, Hyde Valley was still the haunting, tormenting present.

THE PHONE
call came soon afterward, while Steve was studying the Forest Service maps of the area, planning his own private scouting mission on Wells Peak. To hear the phone ring perplexed him a little. As he reached for the receiver he was going down the list of people who had the number and might call: the sheriff? Doubtful. That was over. Fish and Game? Same answer. Evelyn? On the road. Dan Cramer? Steve hadn’t gotten back to him yet. Tracy?

“Hello.”

“
Allo
, Dr. Benson,
síl vous
.”

Now this he certainly didn’t expect. What was that supposed to be, a French accent? It was poorly done, whatever it was.

He answered smoothly, “This is Dr. Benson. Who is this?”

“A friend, Doctor.” The voice was low, breathy, creepy. “A friend who knows what really ’appened in Hyde River.”

For real? A crank? Steve was hungry for information in any case. “I’m listening.”

“I have heard you are leaving, that the case is closed. That is bad, Doctor. There are things you still need to know.”

How far should I go with this guy? How far is safe? “Well, let’s see if you can tell me something I don’t already know.”

The voice dropped to deliver the first gem. “Maggie Bly is dead.”

“Oh? Then you know of a body somewhere?”

No answer.

“I know she’s missing. Some people think she’s dead. What I’m asking you is, if she’s dead, what happened to her body?”

The caller ignored the question. “She was having an affair with your brother.”

“I know that, too.”

The voice was clearly disappointed. “Oh. You already know that.”

“Well, how about we get back to the question you didn’t answer? If Maggie Bly is dead, where is her body?”

The voice hesitated, then tried, “You are a hunter,
oui
? You kill big game. You kill bears.”

“I’m a wildlife biologist. I study bears.”

“But you kill them! You killed the big grizzly who killed your brother!”

“That’s what I’m told.”

“Then I will tell you.”

Silence. Where’d he go? “Hello? Are you there?”

“Oui. I must tell you—” It sounded very much like he did not want to tell Steve anything. Then he finally got it out. “There is a big—umm—creature in the mountains. A big creature ate Maggie Bly, and that is why her body will never be found. The creature ate your brother too.”

Okay, here we go. “What kind of creature?” Steve wanted to push a little, make the guy really say it.

The voice was quite flustered. “I—I cannot say,
monsieur
. It is not good to speak of it.”

“Are you talking about the dragon?”

The voice stuttered, hemmed, and hawed. Finally, “I am sorry,
monsieur
, I cannot talk about—about that. You must look into it yourself, you see?”

“Baloney. I’ve heard about the dragon, just like I’ve heard about Santa Claus and the tooth fairy. I’m looking for some hard information about who killed my brother. If you can’t give me that—”

“But—” Now the voice was sounding desperate. “You must go after the dragon. You—you must kill it before it kills anyone else!”

Now this was a new twist. “You want me to kill the dragon for you?”

“
Oui, oui, monsieur
.”

“So tell me where to find it.”

This guy sounded scared. “I—I cannot talk about the dragon.”

Steve wanted to hang up on this jerk, but he said nothing and stayed on the line. What mattered at this point was that somebody was talking, somebody desperate.

“
Monsieur
!”

“I’m still here.”

“Do you know where Old Town is?”

“Old Town?”

“
Oui
.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Maggie Bly was killed in Old Town, in Hyde Hall.”

Hmm. That sounded like real information. Maybe. “Hyde Hall in Old Town?”

“That is where Maggie went that night, and she was never seen again. Go there. This is where your search for the dragon begins. I will call again,
oui
?”

“I may not be at this number.”

There was a long silence, and then the man asked, “You are leaving?”

“No, I’ll be around a while. Please call again sometime.”

“But how will I know—?”

“Call me on my car phone. Here’s the number.” Steve gave the phony Frenchman the number even as he doubted the wisdom of it. “If you’re sincere about this, you’ll reach me sooner or later.”

“
Merci, monsieur
.”

“Good night.”

“
Au revoir
.” Click.

Steve sat at the table a moment, reviewing the conversation. Tracy Ellis said Maggie had gone back to Hyde River, but she hadn’t mentioned anything about Old Town. He looked at the Forest Service map and found Hyde River easily enough, a helterskelter cluster of little black squares in the narrow river valley. But where was Old Town? He couldn’t find it on the map. Tracy Ellis would know, but bringing her in would bring in the whole sheriff’s department, and they didn’t want to pursue this thing any further— if anything, they’d stand in his way. So okay. This was his investigation now.

Levi Cobb. He’d been with Maggie toward the end, lived in Hyde River, and seemed willing—or at least able—to talk. He would be a logical first step. Steve knew he might get nothing but superstition and sermonizing, but somewhere in all that gospel soup there might be morsels of truth, something he could pursue.

He started gathering up his clothes, his shaving kit, his hunting gear. He would check out of the Tamarack and get closer to Hyde River, plant himself deeper in the meandering gorge of Hyde Valley. He’d live in the camper if necessary, but he had to work himself into the fabric of the place, breathe it, smell it, get a feel for it. The truth was hiding up there somewhere, and it wasn’t about to come to him. He’d have to stalk it, hunt it down.

But what about the risk, the danger? His presence would not be appreciated. He thought of the superstitions. The Oath. Cliff’s body. Maggie’s blood. We don’t call
911
.

Well, he’d just have to be ready for anything.

In a few trips, he’d loaded all his gear into the back of the camper. Then he climbed in and closed the door.

He reached into the narrow clothes closet near the door and brought out a sturdy, foam-lined case. His .
357
magnum. He’d load it, and he’d wear it at all times. From a cabinet above the tiny sink he grabbed his hunting knife, in a sheath, and strapped it on his belt. It, too, would be a part of him from now on. He jammed cartridges into the
30.06
then uncased his automatic shotgun and filled the magazine. He strapped the rifle into a rack above the front bunk; the shotgun he’d keep in the cab.

The dragon. Even as he was dropping cartridges into the .
357
, the thought skipped lightly through his mind, What if it’s real? What if there’s an undiscovered life form out there? What if . . .

He strapped on the holster, dropped in the revolver, and snapped the holster shut. He was ready.

STEVE FOUND
Levi Cobb outside his garage, his head and shoulders inside the engine compartment of a monstrous, articulated front-loader, a huge yellow machine with eight-foot, knobby tires, a deep loading bucket in front, and a hinge in the middle that enabled it to turn incredibly tight corners. Levi had to use a small scaffold to reach the engine compartment. Steve could hear Levi talking, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else around. “You oughta see these plugs. I mean, if those county boys let ’em get this bad you should say something!”

“Mr. Cobb?”

Levi came out into the daylight, a wrench the size of his arm in his greasy hand. He took one look at the big, dark-haired man standing there with a hunting knife on one hip and a sidearm on the other, and then just sighed and leaned against the loader’s eight-foot-high rear tire. “I thought you’d left.” His tone said he wished Steve had left.

Steve tried to relax. He didn’t want this guy to feel threatened. “Nope, I’m still here. Still hunting.” He approached the loader. “I was hoping you could help me.”

“Not likely.”

“Mr. Cobb.” Steve lowered his voice. “Is it true? Is Maggie Bly dead as well?”

Levi pulled a shop cloth from his rear pocket and started wiping the grease off his wrench. “I believe she is. There are some who say otherwise.”

Steve pressed it. “How did she die, Mr. Cobb? Do you have any idea?”

“I have my views.”

“Did she die the same way as my brother?”

Levi’s expression was troubled, but he didn’t answer.

Steve tried again. “I really need to know. I’ve been told there’s a creature who might have killed them both. If that’s true, I’d like to go after it.”

Finally Levi looked up from his rag and his wrench and down at Steve with narrowed, intense eyes. “Mr. Benson, you’re about a hundred years too late. I think you just need to let your brother and Maggie rest—and leave, before somebody sees you talking to me.”

“I only want information.”

“My information you wouldn’t believe anyway.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Levi was clearly flustered and poked his head into the big machine as if to give himself time to think. When he finally spoke again, his voice was muffled inside the engine compartment. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing: All that iron you’re carrying ain’t gonna make you one bit safer.”

Steve came right back with, “I’ll have to be the judge of that as well. I have a job to do, Mr. Cobb, and I intend to finish it.”

Levi’s head came out of the engine compartment, his bushy brows lowered over his eyes. “Benson, the creature you’re after you can’t kill with guns. But you listen to me. You’ve got an attitude that’ll kill you. You’ll be dead before you even know you’re in trouble, and I don’t want to be a part of that.”

Steve looked away. Tracy had talked about Levi’s sermonizing. He’d had fair warning.

So Steve switched subjects. “Then can you tell me how to get to Hyde Hall?”

Now that hit pay dirt. Levi stopped short and glared at him. Steve’s tacky French tipster must have been right on the money.

The big mechanic thought the question over for a significant amount of time, then sighed resignedly and slid down the huge tire to the ground. “You can look, but you won’t find anything.”

“I can try.”

“It’s private property.”

“I’ll take responsibility for trespassing.”

His objections answered, Levi stooped down and scratched a map in the dirt with the wrench. “Go north through town, and right past the train of ore cars. The highway’ll turn to dirt road, and you’ll see a grove of cottonwoods.”