Secret of Deadman's Ravine

He groaned inwardly. “I know.” Arlene had tried to get him to do a story on the Whitehorse Sewing Circle ever since he’d taken the reporter job. The group of women met most mornings at the community center and had for years. He suspected it was where Arlene picked up most of her gossip.

“I have to go. My pies are ready to come out of the oven,” Arlene said.

“Are you making one of your coconut-custard pies?” Glen asked hopefully. Arlene had taken a blue ribbon last year at the Phillips County Fair with her coconut-custard pie—and he’d been one of the judges.

“I always make the coconut-custard when there’s trouble,” Arlene said. “This could be your biggest story of the year.”

Arlene was forever hoping to be the source of his biggest story of the year. “My daughter Violet is helping me,” she said, shifting gears. “Did I tell you she’s quite the cook?”

Along with dispensing gossip, quilting and pie baking, Arlene Evans also worked at matchmaking, although she’d had little luck getting her thirty-something daughter, Violet, married off. From what Glen had heard Arlene had been trying to marry off Violet since she was a teenager.

The older Violet got, the more desperate Arlene had become. She considered it a flaw in her if her daughter was husbandless.

“Save me a piece of pie,” he said as he grabbed his camera and notebook, figuring it would probably be a waste of gas, time and energy. He was sure that by the time he reached Whitehorse, Eve Bailey would have been found and there would be nothing more than a brief story about her harrowing night out in the storm.

For a piece of Arlene’s coconut-custard pie he could even feign interest in her daughter.

BY THE TIME Sheriff Carter Jackson picked up his roping horse and trailer from his brother’s place and reached the Old Town Whitehorse Community Center, there were a dozen pickups and horse trailers parked in front.

He pulled into the lot, noticing that all of the trucks and horse trailers were covered in the gray gumbo mud that made unpaved roads in this part of the state impassable after a rainstorm.

Fortunately, the sun had come out this morning and had dried at least the top layer of soil because it appeared everyone had made it.

He’d always been proud that he was from Old Town and was sorry his family was no longer part of this isolated community. No matter how they were getting along at the time, the residents pulled together when there was trouble like a large extended family.

As he pushed open the door of the community center, he spotted Titus Cavanaugh at the center of a group of men. Titus had a topographical map stretched out on one of the women’s sewing tables and was going over it with the other male residents.

“Here’s the sheriff now,” resident Errol Wilson announced as Carter walked toward them.

“We’re putting together a search party,” said the elderly Cavanaugh, who was unmistakably in charge. If Old Town had been an incorporated town, Titus would have been mayor. He led the church services at the community center every Sunday, organized the Fourth of July picnic and somehow managed to be the most liked and respected man in the county, hell, most of the state.

His was one of the first families in the area. His grandmother had started the Whitehorse Sewing Circle and never missed a day until her death. Titus’s wife Pearl was just as dedicated to the group, although Carter didn’t see her. He’d heard Pearl was in the hospital with pneumonia. She’d always made sure that every newborn got a quilt, as well as every newlywed. It had been an Old Town tradition for as long as anyone could remember.

“Give me a minute,” Carter said to Titus. “I’d like to talk to Eve’s family before we head out.”

He gathered the Bailey women in a small room at the back of the community center and closed the door. Lila Bailey was a tall, stern-looking woman with long gray-blond hair she kept in a knot at the nape of her neck. At one time, she’d been beautiful. There was still a ghost of that beauty in her face.

With her were her daughters, McKenna and Faith, both home from college. Chester Bailey, Lila’s husband, was living in Whitehorse, working for the Dehy in Saco. Apparently, he hadn’t arrived yet.

“Any idea where Eve was headed?” Carter asked. The women looked to McKenna, the second oldest Bailey sister.

“I was just coming home when I saw her ride out late yesterday afternoon,” McKenna said, and glanced toward her mother.

Carter couldn’t miss the look that passed between the two women. “Was that unusual for her? To take a horseback ride late in the afternoon with a storm coming in?”

“Eve is a strong-minded woman,” Lila said. “More than capable of taking care of herself. Usually.” The last word was said quietly as Lila looked to the floor.

“Where does she generally ride?” he asked the sisters.

Both shrugged. “Depending what kind of mood she’s in, she rides toward the Breaks,” McKenna said.

“What kind of mood was she in yesterday afternoon?” Carter asked, watching Lila’s face.

Faith made a derisive sound. “Eve’s often in a lousy mood.” Lila shot her a warning look. “Well, it’s true.”

Faith and McKenna were in their early twenties. Eve was the oldest at thirty-two.

Lila apparently hadn’t expected to have any more children after Eve. Both McKenna and Faith had been surprises—at least according to Old Whitehorse gossip. The local scuttlebutt was that Lila’s husband, Chester, had been heartbroken they’d never had a son and their marriage strained to the point of breaking.

But Chester had only recently moved out of the house, taking a job in Saco. While as far as Carter knew the couple was still married, word was that Chester hardly ever came home. His daughters visited him up in Whitehorse.

One of the joys of small-town living: everyone knew everyone else’s business, Carter thought.

“You should tell him,” McKenna said to her mother in a hushed whisper.

The look Lila gave her daughter could have cut glass. “He’s not interested in family matters, McKenna.”

“On the contrary, I’m interested in Eve’s state of mind when she took off yesterday,” Carter said, looking from McKenna to her mother.

“It was nothing,” Lila said. “Just a disagreement. Why are we standing around talking? Eve could be injured. You should be out looking for her.” She shot Carter a look that said she wasn’t saying anything more about her disagreement with her oldest daughter. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have to see to the potluck. Everything needs to be ready for when the men return with my daughter.”

She left the room, Faith looking after her, plainly curious about what was going on between her mother and sister.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Carter said. “I’d like a word with McKenna alone.”

Faith shrugged and left, but with obvious reluctance. When the door closed behind her, Carter asked McKenna, “Why don’t you tell me about the disagreement your mother and sister had yesterday and let me decide if it’s relevant.”

“You mean what they were arguing about? I don’t know. I heard them yelling at each other when I came home. Eve stormed out to the barn, riding off a few minutes later. When I asked Mother what was going on, she said it was just Eve being dramatic.”

He’d seen Eve angry on more than one occasion, but he’d never thought of her as the dramatic type. Deena on the other hand… “The last time you saw your sister, how was she dressed?”

McKenna shrugged. “Jeans, boots, a T-shirt. I don’t think she took a jacket. It was pretty hot when she left.”

“What color T-shirt?” he asked, attempting to keep his growing concern from his voice. Eve hadn’t been dressed for a night out in the weather—especially last night with that storm that had blown through. For some reason, she’d taken off upset, without even a jacket, and that alone he knew could have cost her her life.

“Light blue T-shirt,” McKenna said, sounding close to tears as if realizing that her sister might be in serious trouble.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her,” Carter said, shocked to think that after all these years he would be seeing Eve Bailey again. He just hoped to hell he’d find her alive. But as he joined the search party, he feared they were now looking for a body.

Chapter Three

Lila Bailey busied herself arranging the food as it arrived from local residents. She had to keep busy or she knew she would lose her mind. The thought shook her, considering that her mother, Nina Mae, had literally lost hers and was now in the nursing home in Whitehorse.

The only way Lila could cope was not to allow herself even the thought that her oldest daughter wasn’t coming back. Eve could take care of herself. Eve was the strong one. Eve was a survivor. Even as upset as she’d been yesterday.

Lila had to believe that. If she gave in to doubts, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together and for Lila, losing control had always been her greatest fear.

More food arrived. She arranged it on the extra tables the men had set up for her. Everyone pitched in when needed. She recalled with shame how the town had offered help when they heard Chester had left her.