Page 39 of Silent Bones (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #7)

Noah pressed a single button on the remote. The static disappeared instantly, replaced by a clear color image.

The video opened on Stephen Strudwell's face, but it took Noah a moment to recognize him. His face was swollen and streaked with tears. He was tied to a wooden chair with rope around his chest and arms, his hands bound behind his back.

“Please. Please just let me go.”

"State your name," came Dale's voice from behind the camera, calm and professional, like he was conducting an official interview.

"S-Stephen Strudwell," the young man stammered, his voice thick with fear and what sounded like a split lip.

"And you were present at Wallface cliff on the night of August 19, last year?"

Stephen's eyes darted toward something off-camera, then back to the lens. "Yes."

"Tell me what happened that night. All of it. Start from the beginning."

“Please. I just want to go home.”

“And you will.”

Noah felt his blood chill as Stephen began to speak, his words coming in a rush like a dam had burst:

"We... we wanted to camp somewhere cool. Somewhere we weren't supposed to be. Jesse found the spot on some hiking forum, said it was restricted but nobody ever checked. Said we could get right up on the cliff edge, that it had this amazing view."

Dale's voice: "Continue."

"When we got there, there were signs. Warning signs about the cliff being unstable, about erosion and rock falls.

But Jesse said they were just there to keep tourists out.

Said the state didn't want people camping in the good spots and that had some of the best." Stephen's voice cracked.

"It seemed like a joke. Like we were getting away with something. "

"What did you do with the signs?"

Stephen closed his eyes, his whole body shaking. "We took them down. Pulled the posts right out of the ground and threw them over the cliff. Jesse said it was hilarious. Said we were liberating the wilderness from government control."

Noah exchanged glances with McKenzie and Callie. This was the confession they'd suspected but never been able to prove until Bill told them what was in Dale’s report: the teenagers had deliberately removed safety warnings, treating it as a prank.

"How many of you were in the group?" Dale asked.

"Six of us. Me, Jesse, Rachel, Brandon, Harper, and Avery. We set up our tents right on the edge, as close to the drop as we could get. The view was meant to be incredible during sunset."

"And below you?"

"There was... no one. I mean, not for at least an hour. Then a family showed up. A dad, mom, and their kids. They had a campsite in the official area, maybe a hundred yards down the slope. We could see their fire from up above."

Dale's voice became harder: "Did you warn them?”

“No.”

“Did you know your actions could endanger them?"

"No! I mean... we didn't think... Jesse said the signs were just paranoia. Government overreach. That the area was safe. We figured if there was real danger, they'd have fenced the whole area off."

"But you knew it was restricted. You knew you weren't supposed to be there."

"Yes, but..." Stephen broke down, sobbing openly. "We were just trying to camp! We didn't mean for anyone to get hurt."

"Tell me what happened during the night."

Stephen took several shuddering breaths before continuing: "It started raining around midnight. Really heavy rain, the kind that sounds like drums on your tent. We were all scared but trying not to show it. Then around 3 a.m., we heard this sound..."

His voice dropped to a whisper: "Like the whole mountain was breaking apart. This rumbling, crashing noise that went on and on. We unzipped our tents and looked out, and we could see... God, we could see trees and rocks and mud, all sliding down toward the family's campsite."

"And what did you do?"

"Nothing." The word came out as a broken whisper. "We just watched. We were too scared to move, too scared to do anything. The whole area where they were camping just... disappeared. Everything got buried under tons of mud and rocks."

Dale's voice was relentless: "How many people died because of your actions?"

"Four," Stephen sobbed. "The parents and their two little kids. A boy and a girl. They didn't even have time to get out of their tents."

"And what did your group do after you realized people had died?"

"We packed up as fast as we could and ran. Hiked out in the dark, drove straight back to town. Jesse made us all promise never to tell anyone what really happened. Said if we kept quiet, nobody would ever connect us to the accident."

"Did you report what you'd seen to authorities?"

"No. I mean, Avery told her father,” Stephen's voice was barely audible. “But we were too scared. Scared we'd get in trouble, scared our parents would find out. Jesse said it was just a natural disaster that would have happened anyway."

"But you knew better."

"Yes. Deep down, we all knew. If we hadn't pulled down those warning signs, if we hadn't camped in the restricted area, that family would still be alive."

Noah watched the screen in horrified fascination as Dale's voice continued, no longer the calm interviewer but something harder and more personal.

“You see, I know you were there because in your rush to leave you left behind belongings: a branded water bottle, a jacket with initials, and a backpack. I found those dismantled signs too. You’d also been seen by a hiker as you were entering the restricted zone.

I found the tracks of your vehicle.” He paused.

"Do you know what happened to the ranger who tried to tell the truth about what you did? "

Stephen shook his head.

“You should. That was me. I investigated the site. I found evidence that the restricted area had been compromised. I filed reports saying the deaths from the landslide shouldn’t have happened, that human activity had destabilized the slope and the signs had been removed.

Do you know what happened to those reports? "

"No."

"They were buried. Sealed. Classified. And I was forced into retirement for not letting the matter drop. You all destroyed my career, cost me my pension, ruined my reputation. My wife left me. My children won't speak to me. All because I tried to get justice for that dead family."

Dale's voice was rising now, anger and grief pouring out: "While you six went on with your lives, and prepared for college, that family stayed dead. And the truth stayed buried. Until now."

The camera angle shifted slightly, showing more of Stephen's restraints.

But as they watched, Noah noticed something, the rope around Stephen's chest was loose, the knots not quite tight enough.

Stephen seemed to notice it too, testing the bonds carefully while Dale continued his interrogation off-camera.

"You're going to tell this story to the world," Dale was saying. "You're going to confess publicly what you and your friends did. And then maybe that family of four innocent people can finally have the justice they deserved."

But Stephen was working his body free, his face set in concentration despite his obvious terror. The rope around his chest slipped down several inches.

"I will,” Stephen said, his voice stronger now. "I know we should have told the truth a year ago."

"Yes, you should have. But it's not too late. We're going to?—"

Stephen suddenly lunged forward, breaking free from the loosened restraints. The camera shook violently as he collided with Dale, both men crashing to the floor. There was shouting, cursing, the sound of a struggle.

Then Stephen was off running, the camera capturing a blurred image of him sprinting toward what looked like a cabin door.

"Come back!" Dale's voice shouted from off-camera. "This isn't finished! You can't run from this!"

The video continued for another few seconds, showing an empty chair and the open door Stephen had fled through. Then it cut to black.

Noah stared at the blank screen, processing what they'd just witnessed. Stephen's confession had filled in the last pieces of the puzzle. The teenagers had directly caused the landslide through their reckless actions, then covered it up and let Dale take the blame for trying to expose the truth.

"That explains how Stephen was found,” Callie said quietly.

McKenzie was examining the TV setup more closely. "This whole thing was staged for us to find. He wanted us to see Stephen's confession, to understand his motive."

Noah nodded, then noticed something else, fresh scuff marks on the cabin's wooden floor, leading from the chair toward the back of the building. And on a small table beside the TV, a hand-drawn map that he hadn’t seen when they'd entered.

He picked up the map carefully. It was detailed and precise, showing topographical features, trail markers, and what appeared to be a specific destination marked with a red circle. At the bottom, in Dale's handwriting: "St. Regis Fire Tower. Come alone if you want her to live."

"He's moved her again," Noah said, showing the map to his team.

McKenzie studied the route. "That's at least an hour hike through rough country. Why is he doing this?"

"Because…" Noah replied. "He wants an audience for whatever he's planned. He wants us to witness the finale."

Callie was photographing everything with her digital camera, documenting the obsessive shrine Dale had created.

"This whole thing has been choreographed from the beginning.

The phone, the trail camera, the photo at his house, this confession video.

He's been leading us step by step through his story. "

"And now we know the truth," Noah said, folding the map and putting it in his jacket pocket.

They finished collecting evidence quickly, the failing daylight outside reminding them that time was running out.

As they prepared to leave the cabin, Noah took one last look at Dale's wall of obsession, the scratched-out faces of the teenagers, the newspaper clippings, the manifesto of a man driven beyond breaking by injustice.