Shinney Forest Cloaks Read online

  “I’ve got a missing woman to find. Contrary to what your daughter believes, I’ll be giving it my full attention.”

  “She didn’t mean nothing by it. She loves her sister-in-law. More than she loves that useless, rotten husband of hers. If truth be known, I’d like to see the back of both Rita and Knox.”

  Royce gave a nod, and tipped her Stetson, then strolled back out into the streets of Timber City.

  * * * * *

  Ursula Gentry’s dour scowl greeted Royce as the sheriff entered the Eagle Inn. “You’re probably here to bother me about that girl.”

  “We’ve had a missing person report on Rita Griffin. So I have a few questions for you.”

  “I told Jade I don’t know anything. Mac neither. Rita Griffin mighta been a churchgoer, but she was a tramp.”

  “You’re talking about her in past tense,” Royce quickly pointed out.

  “I hope to the devil she’s past tense out of this country. Timber City doesn’t need her around. Even if she went up to Crystal Mountain to live, she’d be too close. Needs to get outta Colorado altogether.”

  “But according to Jade, she didn’t take her belongings with her.”

  “She’s probably shacked up with some loser. Some matching set loser.”

  “From what little I know of Rita Griffin, I admit she was a flake, but you make her sound terrible. Ursula, is there a reason for your strong dislike of Rita?”

  “She was always working Mac. Always buttering him up.”

  “He’s a married man and a couple decades older. I doubt if she was doing much more than being nice to the boss.”

  “Royce, you’re just like Molly. Your mama is gullible.”

  Grinning, Royce acquiesced, “That she is. But I’m just not convinced Rita is some sort of playgirl. If she were, she would be at Crystal Mountain resort doing some major playing.”

  “She’s here because Jade is her friend, and her brother is also here. No, leopards don’t change spots. Why, Rita Griffin spent time at the Chandler Center down the road when she was in her early twenties. She’s twenty-eight now, but I still say she’s wild.” The Chandler facilities were originally for wayward girls. It soon became predominantly a drug and alcohol rehabilitation complex. “It isn’t a health farm. That’s for sure. It’s for addicts and the like.”

  Royce paused. “She spent time at Chandler Center?”

  “Oh, yeah. I read her work application. She was there when she was in her late teens. Her brother, Knox, comes up to visit her, and meets Jade. That’s how they met. Oh, Rita was so happy it was ‘cause of her they met.”

  Royce considered she might have done a runner. She questioned, “And she was at Chandler because?”

  “The courts decided if she did rehab, they would be lenient and not charge her with drug possession. I know. I made Mac ask her about it. And she told him.”

  “Drugs?” Royce’s thoughts whirled. “Did she show any signs of using while she was here?”

  “Nope. Claimed she was completely saved.”

  “Saved? Or rehabilitated?”

  Ursula shook her head. She leaned into her secret. “Saved. Saved. Saved by the Lord. The minister, Reverend Vern Carr showed her the Lord.” The innkeeper’s wife had always been a good source of information and loved being one of the town’s leading authorities and conveyers of local gossip. “He brought her into the fold, he did.”

  “So you believe Rita was definitely clean of drugs?”

  “Oh, my, yes. Talked against them. To anyone who would listen. For as long as they’d listen. The woman never shut her mouth.” Her eyes went wide. “She told her entire story. At Chandler, she said getting clean began. Then her soul’s cleansing was through Reverend Carr.”

  “Thanks, Ursula. I appreciate your assistance. If you hear anything, get in touch.”

  “You might check with Chandler’s director, Valeria Driscoll. You used to be friends with her, didn’t you?”

  Royce’s eyes clamped shut with an automatic, tight blink. “Yes,” she answered as if she were on a witness stand.

  * * * * *

  Royce had gone through Rita’s room, looking for any signs of a disturbance or anything that might indicate the young woman was on the run. A few folded dollar bills were scattered on the dresser top. Her purse was missing, but if she had gone out to meet someone, she would have taken her handbag.

  After interrogating Mac, Royce walked a few blocks down Timber City’s main street to the Timber County Court House. She passed by the three-foot high bronze statue of Smoky. Her schnauzer had been honored for the years of service helping Royce. Smoky had saved lives, found missing people, comforted town’s folk, and had been Royce’s constant companion. And she, like Hertha, had disappeared from Royce’s life. Only Smoky had gone to the Rainbow Bridge and Hertha had relocated to another area. Royce bent and touched the scruff of the newly cast bronzed statue’s chin.

  Swallowing, Royce then reached for her radio and contacted Wanda. “What time is Nick going to be here?” she inquired.

  “He said in half an hour or a little later.” Wanda quickly dispatched another call. “He reports there’s a scuffle out at one of the lake’s park areas. Nick said to tell you he’s on his way as soon as he can. He’s in the middle of something or other.”

  “Okay, thanks. I just saw Gwen Ives go into Mom’s bakery. I’ll report what I have to Gwen so she can get the story and photo printed for this week’s paper. She or Nadine will be over to pick up a copy of Rita Griffin’s photo. Hate to release it because Rita could be out partying. But on the other hand, if we don’t, and something has happened, we’ll be sorry we didn’t.”

  Wanda’s laugh boomed. “She could be getting bonked instead of conked. Well, that was Nick’s theory. Seems like I’m getting onto police gallows humor,” her voice scuttled to a chuckle.

  “After all my years as an enforcer,” Royce offered, “I’m not even onto it.”

  The walk to Molly’s Pantry was brisk. When she entered, she heard the familiar sound of bells that hung from the door. “Hi, Mom.” She greeted her mother with a hug. Although Royce knew she herself was not growing, she also realized she was leaning down further to hug her short mother. Molly Madison joked that all of her size was going horizontally since she reached her sixties, and she had become what she called more pleasingly plump as she neared Medicare age. Her round face was surrounded with graying hair that was pulled back and covered. Her eyes beamed each time Royce arrived.

  Royce watched as her mother poured a mug of coffee and placed it in front of her. “Pastry?” she asked.

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  Molly inquired, “What’s going on with the Griffin girl?”

  “We haven’t got anything yet.” She nodded in Gwen’s direction. “And Gwen, the photo of Rita Griffin will be available anytime.”

  “I’m holding a spot on the front page,” Gwen replied. “I don’t get it. She’s been missing nearly two days. Her employer thinks she’s out partying. Jade and Knox go looking for her, thinking she must be with a man. Meanwhile, there are no sightings.”

  “Looks like the press knows everything the Sheriff’s Department knows.”

  Gwen shook her head. “Ursula and Mac both concur she’s a useless waitress. Ursula is particularly antagonistic toward her. She thinks Rita and Mac had a little affair going on.” Gwen broke giving her fingers a wave in the air. “Iffy.”

  “I just heard about that from Ursula. Anything’s possible. But Mac is terrified of Ursula, and I’m not sure he’d risk her ire. And she isn’t kidnapper slash murderer material.” Royce glanced over at her mother. “Mom, how’s Gran feeling today? I haven’t had a chance to call all day.”

  “Chipper,” Molly reported. “But you surely look forlorn. When is Hertha getting back?”

  Royce dug her hands into her pockets, stalling a moment. She would have to tell Molly about Hertha’s decision. “I talked with her earlier. She finally found out what happened to the ch
ildren’s mother. She died of an overdose.”

  “That means no next of kin. So she’ll be bringing the little ones back with her?”

  With a deep sigh, Royce began with a stutter. “M-Mom—I don’t think she plans to return.”

  Molly gasped. Her flour-stained hands flew up to her face. Gwen looked away, unable to take her lifetime friend’s grief. “She can’t mean it. Royce, she must be confused.”

  Gwen took Molly’s arm. “I talked to her this afternoon. Molly, Hertha sounds convinced she’s got to stay there for the kid’s sake. She told me she’d given it long, careful thought.”

  “Royce, I don’t understand,” Molly’s face constricted as she deliberated. “I’ll talk with her. I love her like a daughter. She’ll change her mind.”

  “She was your daughter-in-law,” Gwen spoke. Gwen Ives and her lifetime partner, Nadine Atwell, had been together nearly forty years. During that time, they’d gained the respect of everyone in Timber County. Even the ones Gwen periodically roasted in her newspaper column, Ives Vine.

  Royce walked to the door. Behind her, she heard Molly’s anguish. “Royce, where are you going?”

  Turning, Royce blinked back her tears. “Crime doesn’t take a break just because your personal life goes out from under you, Mom. You know that. You were married to a lawman. He never once stopped being an enforcer.” Her words were bitter as if they were weapons. Sheriff of Timber County—Grady Madison—was gunned down in his prime. Or he would have still been an enforcer.

  Sheriff Royce Madison crossed the street with deliberation, conviction, and pride in her tradition. Accompanying her was her shattered heart.

  CHAPTER 2

  The following morning, Royce had just finished her reports. Deskwork seemed to have increased several-fold over. Replacing most of the office’s paper files were computer files, backed up by disks and flash drive files. Since her tenure of being Sheriff of Timber County began fifteen years ago, Royce had witnessed the digital revolution in crime fighting. Royce was responsible for Timber City, Crystal Mountain, and the few smaller towns that made up Timber County.

  The beautiful area was becoming more populated, and it changed more than Royce would have liked. Everything had changed since she met Hertha. In the fifteen years they were together, they had wandered every road and trail and enjoyed the splendor of Colorado and Timber County.

  Wanda Thurlow called Royce saying Nick was on his way in and had a surprise for her.

  A few years ago, Deputy Nick Hogan had been promoted to Chief Deputy in charge of Crystal Mountain, but he reported directly to Royce. Both enforcers had grown into their jobs and with their jobs over the past decade and a half.

  Nick Hogan had changed from a brash young newly hired deputy to well-respected co-worker and friend of Royce. He’d progressed from the force’s Lothario to a committed family man. His lovely wife, Beverly, and two kids replaced his youthful romantic dalliances.

  He’d mentioned to Royce that they needed to borrow a K-9 bloodhound from the Colorado Bureau of Investigation’s unit to assist in their search for the missing woman. Royce agreed, placing the details off to the side with greater concerns.

  Amazed when Nick arrived with a smallish version of a police dog, she looked up from her computer. The young German shepherd pranced beside Nick. “CBI sent this dog to help?” It was all Royce could do not to chuckle. “She’s so… so diminutive.”

  As if he hadn’t heard her objection, he continued. “So their dogs are all out on loan or working their own cases. Busy time.” Nick stammered as he glanced away from Royce’s piercing gaze. “But one of my buddies in Denver said this dog went through training but didn’t make the grade. Plus she turned out way too small for the canine corps. We’re always saying we need a dog for tracking.”

  “You’re telling me you got this dog for our department?”

  “Well, without Smoky—we could use her.” His hand swiped through his thinning, curly, dark brown hair. His handsomeness had seen him into his late thirties, and his athletic build had added a few surplus pounds. His slightly creased face and his blue eyes entreated a positive response from Royce and other citizens of Timber.

  “You think this dog is going to be part of the department?”

  Nick shifted from foot to foot. “I got her for nothing. Free. A purebred German shepherd is worth money.”

  “Well, she’ll make a nice pet for your kids.” Royce looked back at her computer screen.

  His voice cracked slightly. “Royce, that’s what I thought, too. But I have this problem.”

  Royce sat back. “Don’t tell me. Beverly told you no dogs.”

  “Right. Look, you just lost Smoky. You need a dog.”

  Scrutinizing the wriggling semi-grown dog, Royce expelled a large sigh. “No. You said yourself the dog flunked out of training. She’d be nothing but a problem.”

  “I can’t keep her at my house. Royce, you’re staying out there at your grandmother’s cabin. Your Gran would love company. She misses Smoky, too. Please, just give the dog a try.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “She’s from this blue ribbon bloodline. Originally, it was some long, corrupted name like Law and Order Baroness. But the K-9 trainers named her Not-A-Chance. She even comes to the name they gave her. Watch.” Nick took a couple steps back. “Here, Not-A- Chance.” The dog looked around nonchalantly. She sat where she was, then flopped to the ground.

  Royce shook her head. “So much for her name recognition. No. Send her back or find her a home.”

  “Please, look at her. She’s all alone. She’s got nobody. She’s failed at what she was bred to do. Royce, her lineage is great.”

  Knowing that was probably the exact spiel Nick heard when he agreed to take the dog, Royce repeated, “No.” As Nick began leading the dog away, Royce cleared her throat. She muttered under her breath, “I don’t believe it. A dog named Not-A-Chance.”

  The dog turned quickly as if called. She scampered back to Royce’s desk. With both front paws on the desktop, the dog edged her way to where Royce’s hands were pressed against the keyboard. With a whimper, the dog allowed a cry deep in her throat to seep out, followed by a whining bark.

  Swallowing, Royce reached and petted her top notch. She then uttered. “Okay, we’ll give her a try. But we’re calling her Chance. No dog deserves to be called Not-A-Chance.”

  * * * * *

  Royce took Chance on her morning rounds. Obediently, the ten-month-old German shepherd kept up with Royce’s pace. The dog rode in the backseat of the Ford Mountain Expedition SUV for the first mile of the three-mile trip. But by the time Royce pulled up at the Knox Griffin cabin, Chance had snuck up to the front passenger seat nearer to Royce.

  Knox and Jade Griffin rented the small, haphazardly kept cabin after they were first married. Royce and the other deputies had been called there on disturbances numerous times over the years. The calls came from Knox and Jade, as well as neighbors. As with most battery cases—violence between them was increasing. Both parties were usually marked, but when Royce responded to the last incident, Jade had taken the brunt of the fight. Royce then took Knox into custody and called Faye to pick up Jade.

  After the last occurrence, both parties were warned if there were additional problems, they would each be charged and arrested. Although it calmed the waters, Faye was always checking to see if she could find any evidence of Knox battering Jade. Jade seemed confident she could handle Knox. Her mother was not at all certain. Nor was Royce.

  As Royce climbed the steps up to the porch, she noticed Chance was being well behaved. But when Knox flipped back the door, Chance became agitated. “Can’t you get that fucking dog under control?” Knox nearly screamed. “Jesus, I hate those fucking dogs.”

  Ignoring his request, Royce gave a shrug. “And I hate confrontation. The dog will stay at my side.” Although uncertain if Chance would actually listen to her commands, she sensed the dog would protect her. She felt the mysterious immedi
acy of bonding with Chance. “I have some questions to ask about your sister.”

  Knox carefully exited the house onto the porch. “This is the third day Rita’s been gone. What the hell are you doing to find her?”

  “Relax, Knox. We were only told of her disappearance yesterday. We’ve got an investigation going, which is why I’m here. I want to know where you think she might be.”

  “Jade and I have both checked everywhere we can think about. I’ve called hospitals. Been in bars. Nobody’s seen her.” Knox spoke with a rapid clip and a huskiness his small frame didn’t reflect. His lean body was stringy yet with muscles evident—and tattoos numerous. His face was craggy, but with a handsomeness. Dark facial hair covered his cheeks and chin. Meaty lips were large, and his teeth appeared to be protruding from his face as he grimaced in Royce’s direction. “She’s missing.”

  Royce carefully watched his face as he talked. “She didn’t have a car. Did she ever go on walks? Hikes?”

  “Naw. She wasn’t the hiking kind. Hated this wilderness. We’re from California originally. Moved around when we were growing up. But we were always city kids. She did go fishing a couple times.”

  “Let me get a timeline on this. Your sister took a court-imposed deal to come here to Chandler Center to keep from being jailed. A few years ago, you met Jade, moved here, married her, then your sister came back here to visit. And remained.”

  “Yeah. She found a job here.”

  “Did she keep in touch with Chandler Center?”

  “I dunno. I don’t think so.”

  “Did she have any love interest? Friends or anyone she might have crashed with for a few days?”

  Knox shifted his glance outward to the blankness of the road. “Naw. Just me and Jade.”

  “And you got along with her?”

  “Don’t even think of implicating me in her disappearance. I’m trying to fuckin’ find her.”

  “Me, too, pal. Now just answer my questions. You’ve displayed a bad temper in the past. And some might not mind it. But I do. I won’t tolerate it.” Royce’s shoulders automatically lifted and her stance firmed. “Has Rita ever pulled a disappearing act before?”