>OUTSIDE...///

The sky was blue.

That was it. That was all. That’s all he felt for a day where children would be playing in the sprinklers outside and lovers would be walking along beaches. He inhaled the sharp smoke, feeling it burn in his throat as he growled it out to the wind. He desperately clung to any thought that wasn’t the case like a drowning man to the last piece of wood. He took another drag down to the filter and flicked it away, his words wreathed in smoke, “Fucking Christ…”

He pulled his pack free again and flipped it open, wondering if he should go for another. His father used to chainsmoke way back when. He wondered if this was what he went through, the endless thoughts and hellish feeling in his skin. He couldn’t blame him. Vietnam was a nice time for nobody. He used to wonder what he saw there, wonder what it was like all up until he had a slice of it himself. It was no jungle but Donnelley would never see Afghanistan, never see Pakistan and the FATA the same ever again. As he looked to Tom, quiet on his own, and then the sky again. He just knew he wouldn’t see West Virginia in the same light. “I read your file,” He said to Tom, though he still was looking at his own hands instead of the man next to him, “I read all of them, but you’re one of the only ones who saw what I did.”

Tom pulled a cigar out of his breast pocket. He bit the tip, spitting it at the ground. The zippo lighter had the traditional globe and anchor of the US Marine Corps engraved on the metallic side. He flipped it open, striking the flint igniting the fuel. Then lit his cigar sucking in a long drag. He held his breath before allowing the smoke to exit his lungs. Jill often told him it was a nasty habit, but he didn’t care. He only smoked away from her, never at the house.

“I say Afghanistan, I’m sure the official reports did too. Real hush, wasn’t even a debrief. I knew it was Pakistan though. We weren’t even supposed to be there, that wasn’t my ODA’s Area of Operations, but we were there,” he shook his head, voice low and distant, “And we saw.”

Tom eyeballed Donnelley as he spoke about Afghanistan and his ODA. “Any idea what this thing is? Or where it came from? It appears otherworldly. I’m not going to even ask how it  has this ability to make anyone who comes near it sad.” Tom thought on his use of the word, sad. He paused and added, “sad may not be a strong enough word. Depression.”

Donnelley rubbed at his face and groaned, shaking his head, “I don’t know, Tom.” Donnelley sighed, finally deciding to have that second cigarette, “All I know is I want to find whoever did this and squeeze a round into his head.”

Tom sucked in another drag on the cigar and held it in. He thought of his wife and his unborn child. He thought of his friend and supervisor Ray Calhoun and how he had three healthy children. His oldest, first baseman for his high school team. Those are good things. Must hold onto those positive thoughts. “This is a shit storm, Donnelley…” Tom really didn’t want to talk about it for a bit. “Oh yea, the wife is pregnant. She doesn’t want me to tell anyone. She’s afraid she may lose the child, but indications say I should be a dad sometime next winter.”

Donnelley inhaled sharp through his smiling teeth, blowing out the smoke as he nodded, “Well, shit, congratulations!” Donnelley chuckled, a genuine mirth both for Tom’s soon to be child and his changing of the subject, “You got a name for them? Joseph’s a pretty good one.” He smirked.

Tom smiled as he exhaled a lung full of cigar smoke. “Yes, Joseph is a good name. My grandfather was named Joseph also. I was tossing around the idea of Tom Jr. and maybe a nickname of TJ. My father’s name is Robert and I have an uncle Randy. Might call him Randall if it is a boy. For girl’s names, I was thinking about Michelle, Cheryl, Margot or Clarice. But I haven’t talked this over with Jill yet either.”

“You should.” Donnelley smiled, “My daughter’s name was my… ex-wife’s idea. Tilly. Little Tilly Donnelley.”

Donnelley had a distant smile on his lips, remembering how she’d toddled her way through the house upon a time. “She’s probably, what… sixteen now.”

“Where does Tilly live now? Do you see her much?” Tom was suddenly curious about Donnellley and his daughter.

“Black Diamond. Washington.” Donnelley’s smile was fading, knowing there was a chance Tilly would never remember him if she saw him. But Holly would. Holly would remember a lot. “Big house. She remarried, my ex-wife.”

Tom picked up on Donnelley’s changing expression. Maybe this was a sore subject? “Well, I know we’ve been avoiding the [i]white elephant[/i] in the room, but we need to do something about that young woman inside. I believe you said you don’t know where the crime scene is. What about the dump site? Any clues there? Have you found a witness or anyone who can say something about what happened to this young woman?”

Donnelley only shook his head, the bad taste in his mouth from the topic being put back on the case. “It’s like it happened in a goddamn vacuum. Only person who saw the body was a Park Ranger that found it. Nobody knows where the murder itself happened or who did it.” He sighed, taking another drag from his cigarette, “I know places like Whitetree. Grew up in one. Nobody tells shit to the badges, especially Federal ones.”

“Should’ve seen how many words they spent on me when they could’ve just told me to fuck myself.” Donnelley grinned ruefully, a bearing of fangs almost, “And this was at the Sheriff Station. They didn’t want me in their case files so I could cross reference this crime with any similar ones in the past. Or could just be a battle of who’s-the-biggest-asshole and whose jurisdiction ends where.”

Gwen waltzed over to the two by her lonesome. Stopping in front of them she sighed. "That was pretty boring." She said as she started milling about.

“Oh, I’m sorry that you couldn’t [i]hack the body[/i].” He frowned in Gwen’s direction. “Where’s Laurie? Aren’t you supposed to be watching each other?”

"Dunno I fucked him off." She said as she went to check her phone.

“Maybe these local yokels are high tech and have their files on line? Could senior airman Weissman gain access to their server?” Tom was grasping for ideas. The case appeared to be heading to the cold case files. He really didn’t want to see that happen. 

"Agent Nikki Romero to you there Agent Muldoon." She responded, she probably could but wasn't by her PC and felt demotivated in any other setting than an air conditioned car.

Laine lit a cigarette as soon as she stepped out, the black Djarum complementary to her funeral attire. She walked over to the knot of people and said nothing, listening to the tail end of the conversation. Whitetree was closed off, it sat among the mines and hills, hunched and squatting like some beast that had been kicked too much. Wary and hateful, the town an embodiment of the people and the tainted landscape. It was a strange place to her yet it reminded her of certain neighborhoods in LA, closed off and spiteful of the law that was not their own. 

She caught Gwen's words and Donnelley's reaction. [I] Boring [/I]

It was childish. And despite her understanding of how individuals dealt with stress it put her off. Laine looked at the younger blonde woman, a long inspecting gaze until she broke it and turned back to Donnelley.

Gwen didn’t really care, the doc could think what she wanted to - Gwen would just strut and do her stuff like she always did. She stuck out her tongue, menacingly briefly before looking back at Donnely.

Laine blew out the clove scented smoke in Gwen's general direction then turned her back to her, addressing Tom and Donnelley, "We need to speak with the ranger and then track down the sheriff. CJIS is still checking dental records for missing Jane Does, it might take another day or so but maybe we put the feelers on missing people. Even if our Jane isn't local this guy likely is and most killers start off close to home. And there are graves of bones that may contain his first victims, likely locals."

“My thoughts exactly.” Donnelley nodded, flicking ash from his cigarette before he took another drag, “Roy should know who the Ranger is. First Responding officers are supposed to take notes even before anybody else shows up so he’d have the freshest view of the scene.”

“We checked the Sheriff Station in Whitetree. I want to try my luck at the one in Mercy if one’s there.” Donnelley bit his lip, looking away from the rest of them, “There’s only one way we can find out if the case files for the county Sheriff’s office is online or not.”

“If they want to be tight-lipped, I can play things fast and loose.” He drew his lips thin, “Just don’t ask me what I mean. Easier to say you didn’t know if you [i]didn’t know.[/i]”

“We could get some SIGINT equipment in here and tunnel our way into their phones. We’ll see who’s laughing then.” Donnelley shrugged, raising a brow for critique.

"I'm down to hack, old man." She said raising her hand in hopes to finally doing something useful for a change.

“Yeah, you’ve been telling me that since you got here, cowgirl.” Donnelley smirked at her. She reminded him of Laurie in the way she shrugged off most things, but like Laurie, he admired her enthusiasm when her back was against the wall. “If backdoor software from a USB suddenly shows up on Sheriff computers, you’ll be the first to know.” He winked.

"Don't you go winking at me." She said winking back. 

"Getting into their phones and computers would be very helpful, especially if they are none the wiser," Laine agreed, flicking the ashes absently. "But I really want to find his kill sight. And who the fuck this guy is."

She blew smoke through her nose, then jerked her head towards Tom and Donnelley, "That medication Al...Dr Bakker mentioned, I'm guessing it's not something easy to get. He'd have to have a connection, black market or otherwise. Most of these people cook up bathtub meth but I wouldn't be surprised if there was a dude selling prescriptions. We find who supplies him, that's a huge win."

“If this place is anything like Dalhart, there’s at least ten.” Donnelley spoke through his cigarette’s cloud. “At least where I was. I’ll just call up the DEA right quick.” He mimicked a phone with his hand before he fell back on being all business, “Seriously, though, our best bet for finding script dealers is a bigger city. I doubt people from Whitetree leave often. It’ll be a very lonely Silk Road up to those mountains. We follow it and we’ve got some suspects by the balls.”

Laine raised her glasses as they slid down and said, "No DEA contacts? I'm surprised. But the idea is sound, as far as I know. Let's meet with Roy again and get more information. Then the ranger, hopefully he'll be more forthcoming."

The sheriff's office had stone walled them, the thin beige line, but next time they would be ready. 

"Have you heard from the rest of the team?" she asked looking over at Donnelley, her cigarette smoldering between her fingers. 

“Quiet so far.” Donnelley shrugged, “I only sent out the message yesterday so I’d like to give them the benefit of the doubt that they’re not standing me up.”

He took a long drag before scraping off the cherry on the bottom of his shoe and flicking the filter away. “Well, we’ve got shit to do. Best not keep Roy or the Ranger waiting. I’ll call Foster to see if he can get us scheduled with her sometime soon.” He sucked at his teeth, “Maybe we’ll visit the Ranger station closest to the scene and ask around for an interview with the man of the hour.”

Laine nodded, putting out her cigarette and said in a low voice as she stood with Donnelley, "We probably should have asked her his name but she was pretty caught up in telling us what a shithole Whitetree is."

She cut her eyes over at him and failed at hiding her expression of annoyance looking over at the newcomer, Weissman. "Should we drop her off at the cabin? All this murder investigation might be too [I] boring [/I]."

"For someone with a PHD you sure act like a kid doc." She said spitting dip onto the asphalt. Before smirking.

"I'm not a pediatrician, unfortunately for you," Laine sniped back, then smiled placidly.

"I bet your doctorate is in history." She said spitting again.

Donnelley chuckled, shaking his head, “I forgot her mobile at home but maybe she’ll take a nap on the way.” He was still smirking as he leaned a bit closer to Gwen, “That means you. I’ll tell it to you like I told everyone else. Eyes peeled and ears open, you might learn something.”

“Let’s head out. We’re burning daylight.” Donnelley said as he turned to the others before walking in the direction of the Chrysler.

[hr]

>BLACKRIVER COUNTY RANGER STATION...///

“Fucking pick up.” Donnelley muttered for the second time as they all stood around kicking rocks in the small parking lot of the Ranger Station. It was hemmed in by trees on every side, a lonely hut that was only slightly nicer than the buildings in White Tree. With atmosphere like this, green pines looming over, gravel and dirt underfoot, and a log cabin station it was hard to believe it was only a quarter mile off the main highway from Charleston to Whitetree, and Mercy a little further.

In one ear, Donnelley could hear birdsong and the trees shivering in the soft breezes. In the other was the trill of the dial tone to Foster. Finally, their Case Officer picked up the phone, “Yeah?” He sounded tired.

“The fuck are you doing?” Donnelley grimaced, then shook his head, “Actually I don’t care. What was the Ranger’s name again that found the girl’s body?”

“I don’t remember… Wilson? Wilkins?” Foster groaned and Donnelley wanted to chuck his phone into the forests, storm into the station and just ask for the ‘Ranger that found the fucking girl’, but thankfully Foster spoke up again, “Frank Wilkins.”

“Okay.” Donnelley nodded, sighing as he blew out a lungful of anger. “Also, get me some time with Roy. Today. Please.”

“Already on it, Sarn’t.” Donnelley rolled his eyes.

“First of all, wrong rank. Second of all, fuck off. I’ll see you at the Safehouse to brief you on the girl.” 

Donnelley spoke. He was starting to remember why Foster was a difficult Officer as he hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket.

He turned to the rest of the group, “Frank Wilkins. Let’s hope he’s not on vacation for an indeterminate period.” He glanced at Laine, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. He returned to his original demeanor, “Questions?”

"Since we're going to have grown up talk, maybe leave the child in the car," Laine said, glancing at Gwen with a half smile. "You know, preferably in the sun with the windows rolled up."

Donnelley instantly pointed at Gwen with a face that told her what he was going to say anyways, “Do not. Say. Shit.” He put away his finger and looked at Laine, “Don’t stoke the fire. Please.”

Gwen gently spit into her spitter. "Agent Romero, copies." She said.

Laine shrugged, then slung her purse over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mr Donnelley, I suppose I have to get used to working with the savant types. Let's go find Ranger Wilkins."

Gwen chuckled making a mental note to send gay porn to Laine's contact list on her email or something. If she was that bored.

With that she strolled away, heading towards the ranger station entrance.

Donnelley nodded to Tom, “Hold the fort.”

He turned away and caught up with Laine, “So, game plan? I don’t feel like going in there and yelling at everyone again.” He smirked, “Maybe you should take this.”

Laine glanced at him briefly, then focused forward, careful of the pitted asphalt under her high heels. "Let's save that for plan D. I can take the lead, sometimes they respond to a feminine touch. Other times they are just condescending. We can always bring Tom in if they won't crack for me."

A wicked little smile touched her lips as she added, "But I normally don't have a problem with men cracking."

"You can't seduce anyone doc." Gwen said from the peanut gallery behind them.

“Most men respond to any attention from a woman positively.” He snorted, pausing as he laid his hand on the doorknob when she added that last bit. He crooked a brow at her, smirking, “Oh.”

He pushed the door open and gestured inside for Laine to step in first. It was quaint, taxidermied buck head on the wall and everything rustic. There was not yet a haughty receptionist like last time. Thankfully. “After you, [i]femme fatale[/i].”

She met his eyes as he opened the door, the secretive smile her only answer. Laine stepped through, trying not to grin at his joke. It was not far from the truth, she cultivated the image for a reason. It was not for seduction, but power and there was a power in sexuality. 

The rustic office was empty and Laine moved into the center of the room, "Anyone home?"

Donnelley pursed his lips at the silence that persisted. He leaned a bit closer to Laine and spoke in a hushed tone, smirk in his voice, “Plan D, though? I could try the kissy faces.”

"I'll take the ranger's lap, you take his face. We'll make a mess, old man moves in. Take his computer or some shit." Gwen said as she held her laptop bag, thinking about trying to crack their shit.

“Stop calling me old man.” The humor gone from Donnelley’s voice.

Just then, a creaking of floorboards emanated in the small space of the station and out walked a young, wiry man in a beige Ranger’s uniform and wide-brimmed hat. He tipped it at them. He wasn’t entirely plain looking, innocence was in his eyes which paired with his thin cheeks gave him a boyish appearance. “How can I help…” his eyes went over Laine and then Gwen, a flash of interest in his eyes, “Y-y’all?”

Ignoring Gwen, Dr Laine stepped forward and smiled politely. "Good morning, yes. We're looking for Ranger Wilkins. Agent Laine, FBI."

She showed her badge and credentials, offering it to the slight young man. "I'm with the Behavioral Analysis unit, we need to speak with him."

The young Ranger seemed to shrink into himself as if trying to disappear. His skin paled as he swallowed, any hint of attraction toward either of the women evaporating, “About the body?”

Gwen walked over beside the Ranger, putting a sensual hand on the back of his neck. "Yea, well it's not that serious hun. We'd just like to speak with him is all." She giggled.

“Agent Romero...” Laine sighed inwardly then gave the young ranger a sympathetic look. “Yes, please, I would like to see the trail and location if you could take us to him or...” 

Laine looked sharply at Gwen, trying to subtly wave her off the poor man.  “What is your name, I’m so sorry.”

Gwen backed away sensually dragging her finger on him before retracting her claws from him. Love claws.

The Ranger flinched under Gwen’s touch, his disposition not changing in the slightest as he moved away from her as she hung back from Laine. “Wilkins.” He said, “Frank.”

“Ranger Wilkins, my apologies for ...that,” Laine said, smiling gently. “This is Agent John Davidson and that’s...Junior Agent Romero.” 

She stayed at a respectful distance, only closing in a step or two to speak more privately, “Can I call you Frank? I’m Heather. I understand you found the body and I know it’s hard to speak about but what I really need to know about the scene when you found her. Can we talk alone?”

The Ranger nodded. Donnelley frowned at the prospect of being alone with Gwen.

"My plan worked perfectly." Gwen said sounding astute. She said looking around the place for cameras.

“Jesus Christ, Gwen.” Donnelley said as he took a seat. He didn’t trust anywhere in Blackriver to leave Laine alone with another person he didn’t know. “Do you ever wonder if you shouldn’t do something? Or is everything you do just astounding in its genius to you?”

“Because it isn’t.” Donnelley shook his head and looked away from Gwen, trying to listen out for Laine and the Ranger’s conversation in the next room over.

"Someone had to seduce him, I guess the doc just had more [i]ass[/i]ets than me. So you want me to bust this place open?" Gwen said taking out her laptop complete with cool stickers and decals like any hacker would have. 

“No.” Donnelley said firmly. “I don’t want you to do anything unless I tell you to do it, alright? Full disclosure, I don’t want your fucking antics to fuck this up.”

“Then why am I here?” Gwen complained going to put her laptop away. “I should have just stayed in the car with Laurie.”

“Because Foster needs you.” Donnelley frowned. “And don’t worry. There’s some things I can think of you’d be useful for. Just gotta wait, s’all.”

“Maybe that kid just liked older women.” She said shrugging. 

“Or maybe he doesn’t want to get touched by some fucking stranger. When are you going to realize that this is fucking serious?” He leaned in at her, “Keep your goddamn mitts to yourself and just watch, alright?”

Gwen blew dip breath at Donnely. “Maybe clue me the fuck in into what the hell y’all are doing, I’m just here for the ride ‘less you tell me what the fuck is going on, old man.”

“Oh, we’re just playing pretend. We get really serious about it because we’re boring outside of work. You know, get together and drink some brews and then-“ he stopped abruptly and stood, speaking as he yanked his cigarettes out of his breast pocket, “It’s a goddamn fucking murder investigation that only [i]we[/i] want our hands on. You think Foster called all of us here so he could hang out? Eyes peeled, ears open.”

He turned and left, stepping out of the door and he could see the Ranger in the window to his left. He looked like he was about to shit himself. Laine would have something good when she got back, that was for sure.

“Piece of shit.” She said after he left, taking the rest of her hog out of her mouth tossing it into the trash. Not really learning anything new for why she was there she left the station and headed back to the car.

“Door’s still open, asshole.” Donnelley called back, placing his cigarette between his lips. “Come outside and learn something.”

Tom walked over to the National Park Service Ranger’s office just as Donnelley and Gwen came outside. When he reached the steps, he pulled out a second cigar, bit off the end and lit it. He felt like taking off the coat, but he wasn’t really too hot. It was only in the 80s today. Besides, he was accustomed to wearing a suit on the job. He puffed on the cigar while Donnelley stood with the young hacker from the Air Force.

“This is some fucked up shit, Tom.” Donnelley said through a cloud of thin smoke as he heard the FBI Marine’s footsteps.

“Yea, looks like a heap of shit we’ve stepped into.” Tom took a drag on his cigar. “What is going on? Do you know yet?”

Donnelley nodded, “Just a bit. You don’t have to grow up in a small town like I did to recognize all of it.” He frowned at Tom, “Small town corruption. When Laine and I went to cross reference the case files, you know what happened? None of the case files for missing persons ever changed hands over to State PD or FBI. Blackriver’s a fucking Bermuda Triangle for cases.”

“Sounds like Boston in the 70s. The Combat Zone was a haven for crime. It takes awareness at the highest levels in government to fix things. Tough to wade through that crap.” Tom reflected on his hometown and corruption.

“I’m pretty high in the government and all I’m aware of is this place is fucked deep.” Donnelley shook his head, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the Sheriff’s office was blowing smoke when we asked for the Sheriff. [i]Vacation?[/i] Bullshit.”

“Yea, that was definitely a deflection,” Tom agreed.

“I want to monitor that crime scene every day we’re here. The killer might know he’s compromised because we caught the crime scene.” Donnelley nodded, “I think he wanted us to see. He’s going to get his wish.”

He turned to Gwen, “I want a drone up in the air in a five mile radius of that scene. We’re going to have to operate in the area because our drones don’t have the range of Predators.” Donnelley frowned, “I’ll have Laurie and Tom go with you to set up and hide your equipment. You alright with that?”

Gwen simply shrugged. “Sure, sounds good.” She said now feeling like she had a purpose again. She went to open her laptop to set up the required software to operate the shitty drone that they’d be working with.

[hr]

The room they went into was a break room of sorts, with large open windows giving the viewer a scene of rolling rounded mountains of deep green turning to blue in the distance. It was a beautiful scene, tranquil and peaceful, yet hiding a great evil under those boughs of maple, fir and larch. Laine waited for the ranger to sit or stand, whatever made him comfortable as she looked out the window, admiring the view. 

Frank took a seat in the corner, watching Laine as she peered out the window. Blackriver was beautiful, but not after what he saw yesterday. She was nice, this Doctor. Attractive, but still intimidating. He wanted to talk but also keep his mouth shut. Around these parts, the hills could hear you. Or at least that was what the stories said. He cleared his throat, “Uh, Yeah. So, what did you want to know?”

Laine turned from the window, then smiled at him, “A lovely park you protect, Frank. My dad took us to Yosemite one summer, I love hiking.” 

That was a lie about hiking part but he did not need to know that. She took a seat across from him, crossing her legs and tucking her feet back, in a manner to convey respect of his space. It was all she could do after Gwen had so rudely invaded it. Laine took out a notepad from her purse and a pen, setting them on the side table which was a piece of old tree trunk cut and sanded to a smooth finish. 

“I want to know how you found the scene, start from the beginning,” Laine said, looking at the ranger, keeping her expression calm and neutral. “Tell me everything, even if it might not seem important, as best you can remember.” 

Frank nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to recall everything he saw. There were pieces in his memory that he knew she would never believe. Should he say anything about that or would they lock him up for being crazy? He shook his head, sighing hard, “I, um…” he began, he cleared his throat of nothing and continued, “They say this place is a career black hole, you know? Blackriver. They say Rangers don’t last long if they’re not locals, you know? And people and stuff go missing.”

His eyes darted to the left, the thing he saw in the woods stuck with him. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but… “Missing, just out of nowhere. Weird shit. Um, anyways, I was hiking along the trail, used to be the railway the old mines used way back in the Civil War. I saw…”

He was quiet for a few moments before he shook his head and flashed Laine a humorless, nervous smile. A fleeting toothy thing, “I was hiking on the trail, birds and everything went quiet and when that happens you know something’s there. Like, [i]with you[/i].” He let go a shuddering sigh, “Nobody goes around the old railway trails. Not since… listen…”

He seemed to pale again, leaning closer to Laine, “I don’t want to be here anymore. My superiors aren’t answering my emails to transfer to somewhere else.” He looked at the window then back to Laine, “If I talk, I want to know if you can do anything about that. Feds know other Feds, right? You can tell someone I don’t want to be here?”

Dr Laine listened to his nervous voice, the shifting eyes and the signals that he was uncomfortable and frightened. She recalled Roy’s assessment of Blackriver County and the ranger’s tale fell in step with the description. Something was wrong with the place, something dangerous. “I’ve heard of rumors of missing people and the silence after,” she said, leaning forward, her green eyes on his narrow face. “You’re not from here are you, Frank? I can see what I can do but I need information, I’ll do my best to protect you as my source. What happened when everything went silent?”

“You need to know I’m not fucking crazy, alright? I haven’t smoked weed since High School and I don’t even drink that much, okay?” Frank’s voice was stilted and staccato at Laine’s prompting. Finally, he thought, maybe someone that could really help.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Laine said, picking up the note pad to place against her knee. “I don’t think it’s drugs or drink. I am here because something terrible happened and I’m trying to figure out who might have done it.”

She smiled warmly at him, wanting to encourage his trust and waited. 

Frank’s eyes grew distant for only a moment, fixated on nothing, staring through the room deep into his memory of it. “It was there, on the trail. You ever look out at the distance in the desert and see ripples? It was like that. Just ripples.” He said, “Just… ripples and I thought I was seeing things, but it moved. I thought I heard a scream but like… not from someone else, you know? Like I’d imagined it, thought it up?”

He shivered, “And something whispered, like in the same way. Come and see. I wanted to run but I wanted to see. Something in me wanted to see and I’m usually not a fucking brave guy, okay? I followed the ripple and went off the trail until I got to a clearing a good ways away. It was easy to get to, but not too easy. And I saw it.”

He paused, “I saw the body. There was a piece of something like silk on it, like cloth? Just had tiny writing on it. I left it there, I didn’t want to read it.” He said, “I called the Sheriff’s and I left for a bit, because fuck that, you know?”

Laine made a few notes, then pushed her glasses up as she turned back to him. She tried not to let her reaction show on her face, the dread at the mention of the voice. The ripple in space. Her scalp crawled with some primal recognition of deep fear and she felt her hand grip the pen until her knuckles went white. 

“You did the right thing,” she said finally, licking her lips. They were dry and her voice felt slightly hoarse. She cleared her throat, “You were very brave, Frank. I appreciate you looking because that sounds like a very frightening experience. The body was...hard to look at but you did. You found her and we’re going to find who did this to her.” 

Laine paused, then glanced at him, “What did the silk look like, could you make out the letters even if you didn’t read it?” 

He shook his head, “No.” He said, “No, it was like scribbles, but I don’t know. Talk to the Sheriff’s, they might have taken it for evidence or whatever.”

He leaned back and rubbed at his face, “That’s all I know, I’m sorry. I just want to get the fuck out and forget this goddamn place.”

“Of course, they probably took it. I’ll check with them. Now, when you heard the voice, did you see anything other than the rippling? Was there any sort of figure or sounds in the brush? The color of the silk if you can remember it? Nothing is trivial,” Laine asked, jotting down a few words. [i]Silk, symbolic? character? Writing, found on body gone b/4 we got there; railways[/i]

“Black.” He said, simply, “White writing. You’re going to help me, though?”

“And I want to help you, I know you’re scared,” she said then paused, glancing at the window and speaking in a lower tone. “Have you ever met the Sheriff?”

“Nah, went there a little bit ago, maybe couple months ago,” he shook his head, “I had to follow up on a couple of missing hikers they found a couple days later. Sheriff was on vacation.”

“Lucky fucker.” He muttered.

“Indefinite vacation,” she said, rather than asked, then waited to see if he would answer any more about the strangeness he saw. 

“I guess? You went to see him?” Frank asked, his face playing on interest that the Sheriff would be on vacation this long.

“He wasn’t in,” Laine said, “We were told he was on vacation. So either he was or he did not want to speak with us. Now, Frank...something you said earlier, about the old railways. Tell me about those. Why don’t people go up there anymore?” 

She wrote down the notes and then gave him her full attention. 

“Just, like, old stories. Campfire stuff. Way back in the old days miners went missing, just disappeared and left their clothes. Tale is that one time, some guy collapsed a mine shaft just because. Sheriff pulled him out of there and he was screaming about the devil way down in the mines.” He frowned and shrugged, somehow this piece of history was distant enough from him that he didn’t believe it. Entirely. “Back before Whitetree was a thing the Indians said the place around here was tainted. The river was bitter and the air was bad. Indians say that about a lot of things, you know? So, yeah. Superstition and… stuff.”

Laine wrote quickly, then glanced up, “You know there is often truth veiled in legend, the veil grows thicker through the passage of time. There are places in the world that have been described like that, bad water and air." 

 Laine held off in commenting it was often caused by volcanic gasses rising into water and poisoning it or a depression in the land, making a death trap of asphyxiation.  Besides, the Appalachians volcanic roots had long been dormant and gasses didn't skin a person.

She continued, leaning forward slightly, "Now, whether something was down there or not, it's hard to know but he saw something. Now was this recent enough that it was the same Sheriff? Would that man who fell still be around?"

“This was a long time ago.” Frank frowned, “Heard from one of the old guys around the Station. 2009? Seven? I dunno. Guy went to Beckley, the prison near Charleston, murder of eighteen guys. People around here are superstitious though. This was before the mines closed down when they wanted to unionize. Not the old ones around the rail lines.”

“But those too, you know? Miners say the old mines are haunted. I just think it’s them breathing that bad air in there. Makes them go crazy, see things.” He sighed, crossing his arms, “I’m, um, gonna get some sleep. Can we not talk about this anymore? I’m sorry, it’s just… you know.”

Laine gave him a sympathetic smile but tapped her pen once against the paper, "Of course, I understand. You've been very helpful, I just have a follow up and one other question. What was the fellow's name? And have you ever had reports of missing hikers? Guests of the park. Perhaps a parent or someone reporting their loved one never came home. I understand the sheriff department would contacted but did you ever know of any cases?"

“David Dulane.” Frank chewed his lip, “Just those two hikers I had to go to the Sheriff’s office for. We ended up finding them ourselves. I say [i]them[/i] but… we found him taking shelter in one of the mines that closed down way, way back. 1920s or something. He was in there and he was just shaking. We asked him where his wife was and… Jesus, I’m sorry.”

He got up and ran his hands through his hair and scratched at his scalp. His breath growled in his throat as he paced around the room, making silent rounds. He stopped in front of Laine, “You guys should go. I told you everything I know about this, okay?” He said, annoyed at himself for talking about things he’d long since decided to leave behind himself, “I want to leave. I’m gonna go to my bunk.”

"Alright, Frank," she said, watching him pace after she jotted down [I]David Dulane, fell down well 07-09, devil, @Beckley prison; 2 hikers lost, 1 found in old mine...?[/I]

"Thank you, you've been incredibly helpful," she reached into her pocket and grabbed one of her FBI business cards with her title, name and phone number. "Take this, call me if you need me or if you remember anything else. Like the hikers' names and what happened to the wife. Everything helps us find out who butchered that girl. She suffered terribly, she deserves justice. And you deserve peace of mind. I'll be making calls to my contacts in the National Park Service, see what I can do."

It was a stretch, her contacts were miniscule. The ranger in Olympia, a couple in Virginia and Laurie. Taking a deep breath, Laine stood up. "Keep your head down, if anyone asks you couldn't recall anything of value and we left frustrated."

Her eyes peered at him behind the glasses. "You know how information can disappear,  better they think we didn't get anything."

Now she sounded like Detective Roy. 

He looked scared at that. He was a foreigner to Blackriver, and if anybody saw him talking to these other people, would that mean he’d be next to come up skinned? He looked at the card, swallowing hard, “Thank you.”

The words left him, hollow things. He stood there, everything growing silent in the room. He turned to Laine and offered another humorless smile, “If… if I don’t call you in two days… when I remember the hikers.” He looked out the window at the mountains beyond, seeming menacing now when he thought them beautiful when he first got to West Virginia, “If I don’t call you by then, please come here.”

"You have my word," she replied, meeting his eyes. Her throat felt tight and she hoped that whatever was corrupt in this town had been exaggerated.

He turned for the door and stopped just before he rounded the corner, looking back at Laine, “Thank you, Mrs. Laine.”

And he was gone, the sound of a door delicately creaking and closing the only sound in the Station, signaling he was done with this all. Closing the door on Blackriver. And deep down, everything else too.

Laine waited a few moments, giving him time to leave without being seen with her and to gather her thoughts. She had made a large promise to a very frightened man and now she had to find a way to fulfill it. It was not going to be easy but after what he had been through and shared he needed to leave. And the information was interesting and gave her a few leads for the team to follow up on. 

She walked out, a purposeful scowl  on her face as she looked around the lobby. Her team was gone but one look outside would direct her where to go. Laine exited the door, saying louder than she usually might with the real irritation and frustration she felt upon seeing Gwen again. 

"He couldn't give me anything. Too spooked by the body to recall."

Laine approached Donnelley, digging out her black pack of Djarums and slapped it against her palm to pack the cigarettes.  Now that they stood close she murmured behind the lighting of her clove cigarette, "Dude, this boy is shit scared but he gave me something."

Donnelley was mid-drag as his eyebrows rose. His ears piqued at that, “I saw. Safehouse.”

Tom nodded and snuffed out his second cigar of the day. “Yea, let’s head back to the barn,” Tom reinforced Donnelley’s statement. The group headed to the Chrysler to make the drive back.