Page 34 of The Catcher (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #5)
I t was pure pandemonium. Half a dozen High Peaks Police officers descended upon the Olympic Museum, their vehicles parked outside the mammoth-sized building.
The scene was urgent. Sirens wailed, lights flashed, and the presence of law enforcement lent an air of tension to the otherwise serene Sunday surroundings.
The Olympic Museum stood as a beacon of history and athleticism, its imposing structure crafted from a blend of glass and brick.
The building’s sleek, modern design was punctuated by large windows that offered glimpses into the exhibits.
Nearby, flags of the world fluttered in the breeze, a colorful representation of the global spirit of the Olympic Games.
As Noah’s brother Ray led the charge, the officers moved with purpose, their expressions determined as they prepared to enter the museum. Ray turned to Noah with a hint of skepticism in his voice .
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
Noah nodded firmly. “Positive.”
Ray chuckled, a hint of admiration in his eyes. “If you’re wrong, you know Terry will be vying for your badge.”
“That’s why you’re here,” Noah replied wryly. “You can tell them you got a tip; I just happened to be in the area.”
Ray laughed. “A Sutherland, through and through.”
As they approached the entrance, Janet, the facilities superintendent, scurried into view, looking flustered and jangling keys in her hand. “Sorry for the delay,” she apologized. “We’re usually open on a Sunday.”
Noah raised an eyebrow. “Why aren’t you?”
Janet sighed, her expression troubled. “Plumbing issue. A leak. Happened late last night. Flooded a good portion of the facility. I received the call this morning on my way to work that it was going to be closed while the crew got in there. The only problem is, they can’t get here until Monday.”
Noah exchanged a glance with Callie, a suspicion gnawing at the back of his mind. Was it mere coincidence, or had someone orchestrated the timing of the leak to coincide with their visit?
Janet opened the door into the Miracle Plaza, a vast foyer that Noah had visited many times.
The space was divided into five key areas, with the Miracle Moments Store off to the right.
Noah’s gaze was drawn to the famous Miracle on Ice Scoreboard displayed on the left, a poignant reminder of the historic game between the USA and the Soviets during the 1980 Olympics .
“Spread out. Search the back rooms, offices, anywhere two teens could be,” Ray said, directing officers into the facility.
Ray’s directive spurred the officers into action. They spread out, fanning through the museum’s back rooms and offices in search of any sign of the missing teens.
He then turned to Noah. “Did the last geocache give you any indication of where they might be here?”
Noah shook his head.
Entering the first part of the museum, Noah found himself surrounded by displays chronicling the history of High Peaks and their selection as the venue for the Winter Games.
Murals adorned the walls, depicting scenes of ski jumping, ice hockey, speed skating, biathlon, and bobsleigh, capturing the excitement and thrill of the Olympic competition.
As they moved past the exhibits, Noah couldn’t help but glance at the artifacts from the 1980s era, some preserved behind glass while others stood on stands for visitors to admire. Each display told a story, transporting visitors to the golden age of the Winter Games.
It didn’t take long to see the aftermath of the flooding caused by the plumbing issue. As they rounded a corner, they saw waterlogged floors and damp walls, evidence of the recent deluge that had inundated the facility.
Buckets were out in various places. Some of it had been dried. Several mops were nearby and were undoubtedly ready to be used again today.
Their boots splashed through half an inch of water on the floor, sending ripples spreading outwards with each step.
Noah glanced around, eyes scanning. He moved purposefully, checking behind display cases and peering into nooks as he searched for clues.
“Anything?” Ray asked.
“Nothing,” Callie replied before turning to Noah. “I don’t get it. If the perp pointed here, why wouldn’t he explain where they are?”
Noah’s mind raced as he considered their next move. He instinctively turned to the geocache description from the previous site, hoping to find a clue that would shed light on their current predicament. Running his thumb over the pin from the farm, a thought sparked in his mind.
Noah stepped into the Miracle Moments store, his eyes scanning the array of unique Olympic Region, and winter sports apparel and memorabilia that lined the shelves.
Jackets, sweatshirts, T-shirts, hats, pins, books, posters, and gift items filled the space, each a testament to the area’s rich history and culture.
Making his way to the section where the pins were kept, Noah noticed a container holding pins identical to the one he had found earlier. Without hesitation, he lifted the container and emptied it, the pins scattered across the surface.
As he sifted through, Noah’s fingers brushed against something small and familiar — a 35 mm container hidden among them. His heart quickened with excitement as he picked it up, recognizing it as the kind often used in geocache sites when the cache was of a micro size .
Callie watched with curiosity as Noah opened the container, revealing a roll of paper tucked inside. He unfurled the paper with eager anticipation, revealing yet another riddle hidden within.
“The pin was the directions,” Callie observed, shaking her head in disbelief.
“In more ways than one,” Noah agreed as he examined the riddle before them.
Noah’s brow furrowed as he read aloud the enigmatic riddle:
“Frozen in time, they stand so still,
Within the museum, they have their fill.
Among the murals and exhibits they wait,
Representing the athletes, both early and late.
What are they?”
He pondered the words carefully, searching for clues within the museum’s surroundings. Glancing around at the exhibits and murals depicting scenes from Olympic history, it hit him.
“The answer must be mannequins,” he said, realization dawning. “Mannequins of athletes immortalized, frozen in time within the museum’s walls.”
Noah’s heart pounded as he made a beeline for the set of mannequins dressed in Olympic gear, his instincts guiding him to the one that seemed out of place. “Check the mascot, too,” he called to Ray, pointing across the room.
As he approached, Noah squinted, his eyes widening as he noticed the subtle differences between one mannequin and another. Without hesitation, he withdrew his firearm, a sense of urgency driving him forward. “Step back!” he shouted.
With a steady hand, Noah aimed and fired at the corner of the glass, shattering it into fragments that scattered like tiny ice rocks across the floor. He moved swiftly, his boots crunching over the broken glass as he reached for the dummy.
As he lifted the skin-colored wig, his heart sank at the sight of one of the missing teens. “Callie! Give me a hand!” he called out urgently.
Together, they carefully extracted the teen from the case. Her back was strapped to the post that kept her upright. She was frozen, motionless, stiff but not cold. What kind of drug had he injected into her? Noah wasted no time, placing his finger on her pulse, but there was none.
“No. No!” he muttered in disbelief, his hands trembling as he began chest compressions, desperately trying to revive her. With each compression, he prayed for a sign of life, refusing to give up hope.
A measure of relief flooded through Noah when Ray found the other missing teen inside the Olympian mascot. “I’ve got a pulse!” Ray cried out, immediately moving into CPR while one of the officers swiftly radioed for the EMTs who were stationed in the lobby, ready for any emergencies.
The scene unfolded in a blur as the EMTs rushed in, their trained voices cutting through the chaos with medical terminology and commands. Noah stood back, his heart pounding as he watched them work.
As the EMTs took over, Noah felt a mixture of emotions wash over him — relief that one of the teens had been revived but also a deep sense of concern for the other. He tightened his hand into a ball, his mind racing with thoughts and prayers.
Outside, a crowd had gathered as the teens were brought out on stretchers and placed into the back of an ambulance. Among the crowd of onlookers, reporter Carl McNeal stood out, eagerly seeking Detective Sutherland’s attention.
“Detective Sutherland! Detective! Could I have a moment of your time?” McNeal’s voice rose above the crowd’s murmur.
Noah glanced in McNeal’s direction but quickly looked away, knowing the persistent journalist would seize any opportunity to pry into their investigation. Fortunately, officers from the High Peaks Police Department had cordoned off the area, doing a commendable job of keeping the crowd at bay.
Not wasting any time, Noah turned his attention to the Geocaching app on his phone. Sure enough, a new geocache was listed for the Olympic Museum, with a publishing date a day earlier. Before he could delve into it, Terry Braithwaite elbowed through the crowd, demanding Noah’s attention.
“Sutherland. Sutherland!” Braithwaite shouted.
Ray tapped Noah on the arm, urging him to go. “Leave. I’ll handle this.”
Call it pride or lingering anger from the ordeal of finding the missing teens, Noah turned to face Braithwaite.
“Noah, go,” Ray reiterated, his voice firm with conviction.
It was too late. Terry reached him. Not far behind was McKenzie, back from Lake George.
Terry Braithwaite’s face twisted into a sneer as he confronted Noah, his voice dripping with contempt. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“It was my call,” Ray interjected, stepping forward to defend his brother.
Braithwaite scoffed. “Oh, don’t bullshit me. You Sutherlands always cover up for one another.”