Page 37 of Silent Bones (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #7)

H is stomach sank at the thought of what was to come.

The gravel drive leading to the Calder family home crunched under the SUV's tires as Noah pulled to a stop beside Bill's silver Ford pickup.

The house sat modest and weathered against a backdrop of second-growth pine and maple.

A thin curl of smoke rose from the chimney, and Noah could see Bill's silhouette moving behind the kitchen window.

McKenzie climbed out of the passenger seat, adjusting his tactical vest. "I can’t imagine what he’s going through."

"Hell," Noah said, pulling his own gear from the back. "I told him we needed to search the perimeter."

Callie pulled up behind them in her cruiser, the engine ticking as it cooled. She stepped out carrying a field kit and digital camera, her breath visible in the cold morning air. “Do you think he blames Bill specifically?”

“No, he blames everyone. It was a joint effort to cover this up.”

“How long has Bill known Dale was out here?"

"Couple weeks, maybe longer," Noah said.

"Started noticing things. Boot prints near the creek.

A coffee cup left on his back deck. Cigarette butts on the ground.

Thought it might be hunters at first, but the timing was off.

He said Dale was waiting for him to come home.

He approached multiple times to discuss the incident but Bill refused to listen. "

“I guess Dale found a way to get his attention,” McKenzie said.

The front door opened and Bill Calder emerged. His shoulders carried the weight of a man who'd spent the last few hours watching his daughter's abduction become front-page news. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his usually pressed uniform shirt hung wrinkled and loose.

"Detective," Bill said, his voice hoarse. "Found anything yet?"

"You mentioned the boot prints were mostly along the back property line?"

Bill nodded, gesturing toward the treeline behind the house.

"Creek runs through there, about fifty yards back.

Good cover, clear sightlines to the house.

If someone wanted to watch..." He trailed off, the implications hanging in the cold air.

He groaned. “I should have listened to him. I should have…” he trailed off.

Noah studied the terrain. The house sat on a gentle slope, the backyard transitioning from mowed grass to wild brush to dense forest. A small creek meandered through the trees, its banks lined with deadfall and thick undergrowth. Perfect concealment for someone patient enough to wait.

"We'll start wide and work our way in," Noah said to his team. "Look for anything that doesn't belong. Disturbed earth, broken branches, anything that suggests regular movement through the area."

McKenzie pulled on latex gloves and shouldered his pack. "What's the timeline we're looking at?"

"Bill first noticed signs about three weeks ago," Noah said. "But Dale could have been watching longer. He's patient. Methodical. This wasn't impulse. My guess is he was watching this place even when he wasn’t here."

“Trail cams?” McKenzie asked.

“Maybe.”

They spread out in a rough line, Noah taking the eastern edge near a cluster of birch trees, Callie moving through the center toward the creek, McKenzie angling west toward a rocky outcrop that overlooked the entire property.

The morning was still and cold, their boots crunching through frost-stiff leaves.

Noah moved carefully, eyes scanning not just the ground but the trees themselves.

Dale had been a ranger. He'd know how to hide a trail camera, how to position it for maximum coverage while minimizing detection.

The morning light filtered through bare branches, creating a patchwork of shadows that could hide almost anything.

Twenty minutes in, McKenzie's voice crackled through Noah's radio. "Got something. West side, about forty yards from the house."

Noah changed direction, pushing through a tangle of wild raspberry canes that caught at his jacket. He found McKenzie standing at the base of a mature white pine, staring up into the branches about twelve feet above the ground.

"There," McKenzie said, pointing.

At first, Noah saw nothing but bark and branches.

Then his eyes adjusted, and he spotted it, a small rectangular shape pressed tight against the trunk, wrapped in camouflage fabric and secured with black zip ties.

A trail camera, positioned with a clear view of the Calder house's back deck and kitchen windows.

"Professional grade," McKenzie said, already pulling on climbing gear from his pack. "Motion-activated, probably wireless capable. He could have been monitoring this remotely."

"Can you get it down without damaging anything?"

"Give me two minutes."

McKenzie scaled the pine, his boots finding purchase on the rough bark. He photographed the camera's position before carefully cutting the zip ties and lowering it down in an evidence bag.

Callie jogged over from the creek, her field kit bouncing against her hip. "What've we got?"

"Trail cam," Noah said, accepting the bag from McKenzie. "Positioned for surveillance of the house. Let's see what it recorded."

They gathered around Callie's laptop over by her cruiser, the screen reflecting the gray morning sky. She inserted the camera's SD card and navigated to the video files, the folder showing dozens of clips spanning the last three weeks.

"Start with the most recent," Noah said.

Callie clicked on a file dated one night ago, 9:47 PM. The footage was grainy black-and-white infrared, but clear enough to make out the details. For the first few seconds, nothing moved except wind-stirred branches. Then a figure entered the frame from the left.

Dale Thurston emerged from near the water like a ghost, moving with the careful precision of someone who knew exactly where every security light and window was positioned.

He disappeared out of frame then re-emerged five minutes later.

He was carrying something heavy over his shoulder, a person, limp and unresisting.

Avery.

Her blonde hair was visible even in the infrared footage, hanging loose as Dale adjusted his grip and moved toward the creek. Her hands appeared to be bound behind her back, and a dark strip across her mouth suggested a gag.

“That’s him,” McKenzie muttered.

Dale paused at the creek's edge, looking back toward the house as if checking for any sign he'd been detected.

For a moment, his face was turned directly toward the camera, giving them the clearest image they'd seen yet.

His expression was calm, focused. It was the look of a man executing a carefully planned operation.

Then he disappeared into the trees on the far side of the creek, and down to the lake carrying Avery with him.

The timestamp showed the entire sequence had lasted less than three minutes.

"That's our confirmation," Noah said. "No question it's him. No question now. He has her."

Callie ejected the SD card and sealed it in an evidence envelope. "Forensics will want to go through the whole card, see if there's any pattern to his surveillance. But this gives us what we need for now."

Noah stared across the creek toward the dense forest beyond. Somewhere out there in the wilderness, Dale was holding Avery captive, playing out whatever twisted endgame he had planned.

"He's been watching for weeks," Noah said. "Learning their routine, timing his approach. This wasn't rage or impulse. This was strategy. He planned to take her. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was watching all of the teens."

"Which means he's thought through what comes next," McKenzie added. "He's got a plan, and we're still playing catch-up."

Bill Calder emerged from the house and walked toward them, his face set in grim lines. "Find anything?"

Noah hesitated, then decided on honesty. "We found proof beyond Avery’s phone that he was here. He took her."

Bill's shoulders sagged slightly. “She better be alive.”

“I hope so."

“What now?" Calder asked.

Noah met his eyes. "We're going to find out. But first we need to search his home. See what else he might have left behind."

They packed up their equipment quickly, the trail camera and its contents secured as evidence. As they prepared to leave, Noah took one last look at the forest where Dale had disappeared. The morning sun was higher now, burning off the frost and casting long shadows between the trees.

Somewhere in that wilderness, a clock was ticking.

Dale Thurston's house looked exactly as Noah remembered it from his visit earlier.

The small, weathered structure seemed to grow out of the forest around it like something organic.

The paint was peeling, the front porch sagged under the weight of stacked firewood, and the windows were dark and empty.

But something was different.

The silence felt deeper, more complete. No smoke from the chimney. No sound of movement from inside. Even the birds seemed to have abandoned the surrounding trees.

"Looks empty," McKenzie said, stepping out of the SUV.

SWAT formed up twenty yards from the front door, weapons ready.

Noah held up a closed fist. The team froze in position.

McKenzie checked his gear one final time while Callie adjusted her grip on her rifle.

It was standard procedure for a potentially hostile entry, though Noah's instincts told him they'd find the house abandoned.

Noah signaled forward. They moved as one unit, boots silent on the packed earth, until they flanked the entrance. He pressed his back against the wall beside the door frame, McKenzie mirroring him on the opposite side. Callie took overwatch position, rifle trained on the windows.

Noah pounded on the wooden door with his fist, the sound echoing across the clearing. "Dale Thurston! State Police. We need to speak with you."

Silence.

He tried the handle. Locked. Noah nodded to the SWAT breacher, who stepped forward with a tactical ram. The door frame exploded inward with a thunderous crack.

"Go, go, go."

Noah swept inside first, weapon raised, flashlight cutting through the dim interior. "Police! Dale! Avery!”

McKenzie followed immediately, peeling left toward the kitchen. Callie entered last, covering the bedroom hallway. They moved with practiced precision, clearing angles, communicating with hand signals.

The house smelled of abandonment. The air was musty as if it had been sealed and forgotten.

"Kitchen clear," McKenzie called.

"Bedroom clear," Callie added.

Noah lowered his weapon slightly, sweeping his flashlight across sparse furnishings and a cold wood stove.

He holstered his weapon and began a more careful examination of the space. Dale had lived simply, no television, no computer, just the basic necessities. But there were gaps now. Empty spaces on shelves where items had been removed. Drawers hanging open, their contents rifled through.

"He packed," Noah said. "But not everything. Left what he wanted us to find."

The proof was sitting on the kitchen counter, impossible to miss. A single photograph, glossy and recent, propped against the coffee maker like a greeting card.

Noah picked it up carefully, holding it by the edges.

The image showed Dale standing beside a massive eight-point buck, blood dark on the snow around the animal's body.

Dale was younger in the photo, his hair less gray, his face carrying a satisfaction that bordered on joy.

But it was the background that caught Noah's attention, a rustic cabin built of logs and fieldstone, set against a backdrop of steep, forested hills.

"Misdirection?" McKenzie said, looking over Noah's shoulder.

"Possibly, or a trip down memory lane." Noah squinted. "Different terrain. Looks like High Peaks country. Could be anywhere from here to the northern wilderness."

Callie emerged from the bedroom, carrying a manila folder. "Found this under the mattress. Along with some other things that might interest you."

She spread the contents across the kitchen table. Property tax bills for the current address. A hunting license from last year. And buried at the bottom, a lease agreement for a seasonal cabin rental.

Noah read the document carefully. The lessor was listed as McNair Wilderness Rentals. The property was described as "Cabin 7, accessed via unmarked logging road off Route 28N, approximate coordinates 44.17°N, 74.21°W."

"Where does that put us?" Noah asked.

Callie was already entering the coordinates into her phone's GPS. After a moment, she looked up. "Deep wilderness. About forty miles northwest of here, near the High Peaks boundary. No cell service, no grid power. Just forest and mountains."

Noah studied the photograph again, comparing it to the satellite image on Callie's phone. The terrain matched, steep ridges, dense forest, the kind of country where a man could disappear for months if he knew what he was doing.

"He's taken her there," Noah said.

"You're sure?" McKenzie asked.

Noah turned the photo over. On the back, written in Dale's careful handwriting, were the words: "Last hunt, November 2021. Landed the big one at last."

"He didn't leave this by accident," Noah said. "He wanted us to find it. Just like the trail camera. He's leading us somewhere."

"Into a trap?" Callie asked.

"Maybe. Or to the place where he plans to end this."

They searched the rest of the house, but found little else of value. Some clothes were missing from the bedroom closet. The medicine cabinet in the bathroom had been cleared out. A few gaps on the kitchen shelves suggested Dale had taken supplies, canned goods, batteries, basic survival gear.

In the bedroom, Noah found one more item of interest. A small notebook tucked beneath clothes in his closet, filled with Dale's handwriting. Most of it was mundane; grocery lists, reminders about vehicle maintenance, observations about wildlife. But the final entry, dated a week ago, was different:

"Time to finish what should have been finished a year ago. They think they can forget, but some things demand to be remembered. The mountain remembers. The families remember. I remember."

Noah showed the entry to his team. "He's not running. He's completing a mission."

McKenzie checked his watch. "We've got maybe eight hours of good daylight left. If we're going after him, we need to move now."

Noah looked once more at the photograph, at Dale's satisfied smile and the remote cabin behind him. Somewhere in that wilderness, Avery was running out of time. And Dale was waiting.

They secured the house and loaded their equipment, the coordinates locked into their GPS units.

As they pulled away from Dale's property, Noah caught a glimpse of movement in his rearview mirror, a curtain falling back into place in an upstairs window of a neighboring house. Someone had been watching them, just as Dale had watched the Calder’s.