Page 26 of Vanish From Sight (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #2)

A bright afternoon sunshine bathed Ray’s face as he awoke.

The world came spinning back into view like a kaleidoscope of images through his slitted eyes.

He groaned, pawing at his face to dust out the cobwebs of sleep.

The aroma of coffee attacked his senses as did the continual sound of metal clinking.

His mind was in a hazy fog as his eyes slowly fluttered open and he tried to piece together what he was looking at.

It was an overwhelming sight.

Above him, an intricately painted ceiling displayed a tapestry of vibrant colors and lifelike figures inside panels.

He lay there still feeling groggy and took it all in, utterly perplexed.

He was lying on a sofa inside a cabin and yet the imagery above looked more geared toward a church.

As Ray looked up, he saw a multitude of figures and scenes.

It was familiar but for some reason he couldn’t quite place where from .

“Yeah. A real beauty.” Ray rubbed his eyes again.

The colors were so vivid and figures so real that he almost felt like he could reach out and touch them.

He started to recognize some of the scenes from the fresco.

There were nine main panels, each depicting a different scene from the book of Genesis, starting with the creation of the world and ending in the account of Noah’s ark.

“By the way, I’m Ed.”

“Ray.”

“I know.”

His gaze honed in on the most famous of them all which showed the creation of Adam.

It was an iconic scene, one of God depicted as a muscular bearded man stretching out his hand to touch the hand of a reclining Adam.

The fingers of the two almost touched, symbolizing the very moment when God breathed life into Adam and gave him the spark of divinity.

“From the first time I laid eyes on it, I knew I had to have it in my home,” Ed said. “A masterpiece of Renaissance art that tells the story of humanity’s creation and fall from grace. And oh, how we have fallen. Of course, we don’t like to think that we have. Not us. No. But we have.”

“That’s great,” Ray muttered, still trying to crawl his way back to the land of the living. Vague fleeting memories of the previous evening flickered through his mind. Dark thoughts that at the time he felt could only be solved by removing himself .

“You know, I often wonder, is humanity the fallen angels? You know — the ones who at one time were angels but pissed off the big fella so much that he gave them their marching orders. Of course, we couldn’t entertain that thought.

It’s so much easier to think that we are separate from the horrors of this world, as we quickly align ourselves with the good.

And yet what we have done right?” He paused. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

“What?”

“Are we the light denying our darkness and trying to find our way back?”

His words were too much for Ray. His head was pounding from an intense hangover from all the alcohol he’d consumed prior to his leap into the gorge, most of which he could barely remember. “Do you have an Advil?”

“Hang tight. I have something better.”

Ray glanced off and saw the blurry looking old man shuffling over to a cabinet as he continued to talk.

His gaze bounced to a modest kitchen, well equipped with everything that was needed to whip up a hearty meal.

The countertops were thick durable wood, and there were all manner of pots, pans and utensils hanging over an island which was surrounded by mismatched chairs.

“So, who do you owe money to?” Glasses clinked. He heard the slosh of liquid.

“What?” Ray replied.

“Money. Debts. Loan sharks. If life isn’t working, it usually boils down to money,” he said as he returned holding a glass full of red liquid. “Get that down you. A Bloody Mary. Always does the job.” He stuck it under his nose and Ray felt his gag reflex kick in. He turned his head away, groaning.

“I’ll pass.”

“Don’t be silly. Get it down you. You’ll feel as right as rain in twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, but no. ”

“Suit yourself.” The old-timer chugged it back in one gulp and returned to his seat.

Ray glanced around the cabin. The rustic wooden walls were adorned with hunting trophies and antique pieces, including an old bear trap and a pair of mounted antlers.

The floor was a polished hardwood, covered in a soft, plush rug that was the image of the American flag.

The guy’s choice of décor was eclectic to say the least.

The leather sofa and two armchairs were arranged around a stone fireplace.

Further down the hall he could see into a study where there were bookshelves filled to the brim with what he could only imagine was classic literature, adventure novels and survival guides.

There was a large, weathered map of the region hanging above a computer desk.

“Where’s my brother?” Ray asked.

“At work, I believe,” Ed said, returning the glass to the cabinet. “Besides the hangover, how are you feeling?”

“Like a steamroller went over me.”

“I expect so. You know the problem with your generation?”

He groaned, rubbing his eyes. “No. But I expect you’re going to tell me,” Ray said as he swung his legs off the edge of the sofa and the world turned on its axis bringing the old-timer into view.

“Too soft. Too self-centered. Always looking for someone to stroke your head and tell you it’s going to be okay.

Well maybe it’s not. Maybe you won’t get that caramel latte with whipped cream when you order it.

Maybe life doesn’t hand out gold stars for using your damn brain cells.

And maybe you’ll have to deal with the consequences of your own choices.

Too bad. You see in my day, if we came home with our legs attached to our ass, it was a good fucking day.

We didn’t have time for the bullshit you all get wrapped up in. So come on. Whose pooch did you screw?”

“None of your damn business. ”

“Au contraire, mon frere. The moment your brother dragged your ass in here, it became my business. You see, since I’ve been associated with you Sutherlands, I’ve learned fast that your clan are like a bad dream.

I’ve been threatened, beaten over the head, and if that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve had to endure listening to you snore for the past sixteen hours.

Now if trouble is going to show up at my door, I’d like to know one good reason why I shouldn’t hand over your ass to them on a platter. ”

“I’m a cop.”

“Obviously not a smart one.”

Ray glared at him. He didn’t have the strength to argue. “You think I could get some coffee and Advil?”

Ed eyed him through a suspicious gaze. “You’re in luck. I poured one only ten minutes ago. Or is that considered not fresh enough?” He was being sarcastic.

“That will do fine.”

“I’m glad because I wasn’t going to make any more.” He got up and went into the kitchen. Ray ran a hand over his face and staggered to his feet.

“Um. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall. But if you’re taking a piss, use the seat. And by that, I mean, sit your ass down. I don’t want to be wiping up drops from the floor.”

Ray gave a half-hearted salute and went to relieve himself.

He passed the master bedroom. It was simple but odd with a king-size bed covered in a camouflage bedspread. There was a bedside table that held a small lamp and a few books related to foraging, different kinds of mushrooms and surviving the end times.

Ray shook his head and wandered into the bathroom.

It was small but functional, with a rustic sink and mirror, a clawfoot tub that looked as if it had seen better days, and a separate shower.

The walls were wooden planks and there was a small window which offered a view of the surrounding yard and forest.

On the wall was a framed motto: “The only easy day was yesterday.”

He returned a moment later to find a mug of coffee, a bottle of Advil, some cream and a bowl of sugar on the table. He sank into his seat under Ed’s watchful eye. He tossed two pills back and swallowed before drinking some black coffee.

He kept glancing up at Ed. He knew the old fart wouldn’t back down unless he told him.

“The casino. Okay? That’s who I owe,” Ray blurted out.

“How much?”

He was hesitant to say. It was embarrassing.

“C’mon. Spit it out.”

“Four G’s.”

“Four thousand?”

“Add two more zeros to that.”

“Four hundred thousand?”

“Give or take.”

There was silence for a minute or two.

Ed blew out his cheeks. “Ah, I can respect someone owing money to try and get by in life. A loan for a business, a mortgage, a college course, hell, even a car, but gambling?”

“Go ahead. Say it.”

“Oh, I’ll say it because I’m sure your family won’t. That takes some high-level stupidity. Have you never heard the saying the house always wins?”

Ray yawned and took another sip of his coffee, letting him ramble.

Ed continued. “Of course you have. But that’s not it, is it?”

Ray met his gaze, his brow furrowed.

“I mean, sure, many a man has killed himself over debt, but you, a cop, a Sutherland who cares more about the reputation of their name? What else did you fuck up?”

Ray groaned again, squinting at him. “You know, I’ve had one hell of a night. I’d appreciate it if we didn’t do this right now.”

“And I’d appreciate you cutting the bullshit.

And don’t tell me it’s your missus. We might be the bane of the female species, and likewise, but no Sutherland is going to toss himself into a gorge over a woman.

If that was the case, you would have done it when she divorced your ass years ago.

” He paused. “Oh yes, Noah told me. So…?”

Ray set his cup down and eyed him. It was like the old-timer could see right through him. He looked up at the Sistine Chapel painting. He knew more about it than Ed realized.

“Do you know that Michelangelo never wanted to paint the Sistine Chapel?” Ray looked back at Ed.

“Yeah, he was already busy working on a marble tomb for three years when he received the commission.” He paused for a moment and reflected upon the copy of the masterpiece above him.

“He accepted, despite the fact that he told others he felt he was more of a sculptor than a painter and had no experience with frescos. You know why he agreed? Most will say it was because he was commissioned by the pope to paint portraits of the twelve apostles and that he felt it was an honor to work for him. That’s what they would have you believe.

It sounds so much more palatable than the truth.

It’s all bullshit. They leave out the part about the letter he wrote to his friend, where he told him that Pope Julius II forced him to do it.

Apparently, Pope Julius was in the habit of beating him with a stick and had also fired him at one point.

I believe his words were ‘he could paint anything around the apostles and that he wouldn’t hurt Michelangelo. ’”

Ray looked at him as he continued. “Sometimes we are forced to do things we don’t want to.”

Ray dipped his chin .

“What have you done?” Ed asked.

Ray shook his head then met his gaze. “Fallen from grace.”

Ed looked as if he was going to pepper him with more questions when gravel crunched beneath tires. He got up and went over to the window and looked out. “Did your brother tell anyone else you were coming here?”

Ray got this distant look in his eyes, then he got up and staggered over to see. Outside, a large black SUV pulled up in front of the cabin. Three tall, barrel-chested men got out, gazing around.

“Friends of yours?” Ed asked.

“Let me go speak to them.”

Ray made his way toward the front door. Before he reached it, Ed brushed past him holding a pump-action shotgun. “I swear you Sutherlands will be the death of me,” he said.

“This is my problem, old man.”

“Like I told you. It was until you stepped foot inside here. Now stay inside.” With that said, Ed went out, Mossberg 500 raised and racked to get their attention.

“I can tell you three assholes aren’t Mormons and you sure as hell can’t read otherwise you would have seen the big ass No Trespassing sign on your way in, so I can’t wait to hear the reason why you are on my property,” Ed said.

A fourth man stepped out from the rear, wearing a long wool business trench coat. He had a black sweater below that, black pants and black shoes. He removed a pair of sunglasses. He was native in appearance.

“Ed. It’s all right,” Ray said, appearing at his side and placing a hand on the rifle to lower it.

The fourth man spoke up. “Mr. Ironwood wants to see you.”

Ray nodded. He glanced at Ed then back at them. “I just need to get my coat.” He went back inside. Ed backed up and closed the door behind them .

“Those the men you owe money to?” Ed asked.

Ray picked up his jacket that was still damp. “Tell Noah I’ve gone to the casino and that if he doesn’t hear from me, I’m sorry.”

“People don’t send out that kind of force unless they’re expecting resistance. They are trespassing on my property, Ray. I am within legal right to send them heaven bound. Let me handle this.”

Ray scoffed. “Ed. I’m a police officer. They haven’t shown deadly force.

And if I thought this could be resolved another way, don’t you think I would have made a phone call by now?

No. I appreciate what you’ve done,” he said, patting him on the arm.

“But sometimes,” he looked up at the Sistine Chapel painting, “the painter has to go and speak to those who paid his wages.”

Ray exited the cabin and got into the back of the SUV. He looked at Ed through the darkly tinted windows. Ed was already on the phone and it didn’t take a stretch of the imagination to guess to who.