Page 5 of Vanish From Sight (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #2)

A hard sun flooded the once serene lake, casting a warm glow across its rippling surface.

But peace was far from sight with the presence of police cruisers and the forensic team.

They were decked out in white hazmat suits and carrying an array of equipment around the lake.

Uniformed officers secured the area, trying to prevent anyone from getting close — a feat that was virtually impossible due to the size of the lake.

In less than one day, High Peaks Lake had turned into a circus, attracting the curious, the oddballs, and the morbid vying for a glimpse or the opportunity for internet fame.

The media had already caught wind of the death, and a fleet of vans and a slew of reporters from different news organizations had descended upon the scene.

Many were close to the yellow tape, pushing their luck with cameras and microphones at the ready. They jostled for position, trying to get the best shot or a soundbite from anyone willing to talk.

It was crazy.

Drawn back to the marina that afternoon, Noah wanted to see if the divers or officers searching had located any further evidence. With the lake falling into county jurisdiction as well as the town, it was no surprise to see Adirondack County sheriff’s deputies on site.

Noah smiled upon arrival at the sight of a familiar face.

He parked, climbed out and crossed the lot, working his way through the crowd.

She had her back turned to him and was addressing a cluster of reporters who were swarming her for a quick soundbite.

“And your name was?” a reporter asked.

“Deputy Thorne,” she replied before Noah was quick to add, “Be sure to include an E on that surname. Causes all manner of problems.”

Callie turned and a broad smile emerged. “Excuse me,” she said to the media. As she made her way out, local PD officers stepped in and instructed the media to move back.

Noah stuck his hands in his long tweed jacket. “Didn’t they tell you at the academy about rule number nine?”

“And that would be?” she asked.

“Never talk to media.”

“Is that so? And what are the other eight rules before that?”

“I haven’t the foggiest,” he said with a grin. “How you doing, Callie?”

“Better for seeing you. I thought you weren’t coming back until early next year.”

“My lieutenant fast-tracked things. Seems they’re desperate for boots on the ground up here.”

He extended a hand but she bypassed it and gave him a hug. “ Couldn’t have arrived at a better, or let’s say a worse time,” she said, pulling away and glancing over her shoulder.

He nodded. “I know, I was here last night when they brought the victim out.”

“Explains why local PD didn’t contact us until after.”

“Wasn’t much that could be done. It was pitch dark out there.” He glanced off toward the crowd. “So, what’s the deal with the group?”

“Oh, them. Yeah, this has really drawn the oddballs out of the woodwork. That couple over there, the ones performing what looks like an EVP, they are—”

“EV… what?” he asked, cutting her off.

“Electronic voice phenomena. It’s a paranormal group. They think they can pick up on the dead with tools that look more suited for finding studs in a drywall than a ghost.”

He chuckled as she continued. “Then of course we have social media influencers looking to capture the action for likes and follows. I swear, social websites and apps have become the home for the mentally disturbed.”

“And them?” Noah pointed to a cluster of people who had attached a map on the side of a van and were drawing red circles while they sipped on lattes.

“Those are your armchair detectives.”

“Doesn’t that mean they try to solve a case from home?”

“Oh, well, yes but things have changed, Noah. Evolved. Progressed. We aren’t supposed to call them that anymore. Citizen detectives, I think is what they prefer. Terminology is everything nowadays, otherwise folks get all offended.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” Their laughter waned as they walked toward the dock, considering the task ahead. “So have they found anything interesting?”

“Not so far. It’s a big lake, right? Without knowing where she went in and now with the body out, I’m not sure they will drag the lake. A dive team is focusing on the area below Pulpit Rock though the body could have drifted there from its original entry point.”

He squinted to the outcropping. “That cliff is a good 65 feet up. It certainly would have made the most logical place to dump a body along here if they didn’t bring her out in a boat… but… reaching it…” he trailed off.

“Difficult. Yes,” Callie said, cupping a hand over her eyes to block the glare of sunshine. “You ever leaped from it?”

He nodded. “A long time ago.”

Pulpit Rock was a popular landmark for cliff jumping.

Way back when Noah was a kid, he and many other teens looking to test their bravery and courage had taken their turn jumping off the heart-stopping spot.

It stood tall and imposing, jutting out over the shimmering lake.

For years, teens and twenty-somethings had been daring each other to leap from it, prove their mettle and earn bragging rights.

Few did it once. Even less tried a second time.

Those that didn’t jump from the top did it from a few feet lower down.

Most used a kayak or motorized boat to reach the area.

They would anchor it at the bottom and climb up the west-facing wall.

As one who could attest to the magnitude of taking the leap, Noah knew it was anything but easy.

The climb alone was treacherous. Some opted to go through the dense underbrush at the top but finding the exact spot was harder than it looked, as there were no trails.

Then, reaching the top, that’s when the fear really took hold.

Noah recalled his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and terror.

The sight of dark water far below was enough to make his knees wobble.

The surface seemed impossibly far away, and the rocks that lined the shore or hid beneath the depths were like razor blades waiting to slice skin.

But still, there was something about it that continued to draw teenagers back year after year.

A sense of camaraderie and adventure, one chance to prove you were fearless.

He’d leaped from it six times, and never once could he say it was easy, but it had left him with a sense of triumph and elation.

The location had seen its fair share of accidents. The cliff held more risk than guaranteed success. One wrong step and the consequences were dire. And out there, if you were alone, no one would hear you scream.

“Is it as scary as people say?” she asked.

“One hundred percent,” he said as he focused on the top. “Any officers been up there?”

“Not that I know of. The focus is on the lake and areas that are more accessible. Waterfront properties on the west side and so on.”

“Come on then,” he said, turning back toward the Bronco.

“What?”

“Let’s check it out.”

“I… uh... should probably get this squared away with my sergeant. I’m meant to be securing the scene.”

He turned, smiling. “You are. Just elsewhere.”

“Noah, it’s not like last time.”

He waved her off. “Just tell them I’ve asked for your assistance.”

“You know we have a new detective.”

“Good. I’d like to meet them when they show up.”

She pursed her lips with a smile and got on her radio to update the powers that be. Noah had her hop into his vehicle instead of taking a cruiser.

Five minutes later, as the Bronco weaved down a narrow road, hugging the lake, Callie chimed in. “You know you can’t get close to that cliff by vehicle.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Which means the chances of them bringing her up this way would be slim.”

She wasn’t far wrong, there were only two roads that came close to the area: Mount Whitney Way and Ruisseaumont Way that looped around inside the forest area where a few waterfront properties lined the shore.

The difficulty came with the hilly terrain.

To reach the edge of Pulpit Rock from the top required traversing the Saranac Lakes Wild Forest that surrounded Mount Whitney and butted up against the Sentinel Range Wilderness.

Vehicles could only go so far; the rest of the way required a hike.

“I know. But who’s to say anyone brought her here?”

Callie regarded him through skeptical eyes. “You’re buying the suicide theory?”

“No. But it hasn’t been ruled out either.”

As the sun filtered through the trees on the crisp fall afternoon, Noah pulled the Bronco up to the end of a quiet country road. Trees loomed overhead, casting long shadows across a pathway that disappeared into the dense forest.

He exchanged a quick glance with Callie before pushing out of the vehicle.

“I hope you know where you’re going,” she said.

“Oh, these were my old stomping grounds. You don’t forget.”

“Has much changed?”

“These homes weren’t here,” he said, pointing to some of the million-dollar waterfront properties nestled in the woodland and set back from the lake.

With the season in fall, the forest had transformed into a breathtaking display of color. The once sea of green had burst into a riot of red, gold and orange. As they trekked through, their feet rustled the carpet of fallen leaves and pine needles. A crunching sound accompanied every step.

“So have they managed to elect a sheriff yet?” he asked.

“No. Are you kidding? It’s been a couple of months. Things don’t move that fast around here,” Callie replied, stifling a laugh. “The undersheriff, Avery Rivera, is at the helm. She’s the acting sheriff right now. She’s not bad actually. Nice to have a woman calling the shots for once.”

Noah turned to the hilly terrain full of hardwoods and evergreens; maples, oaks and birches were the most dominating species.

The maples were ablaze in shades of scarlet and orange, while the oaks shimmered in deep russet and burgundy.

Birches offered a striking contrast with smooth white trunks standing out amid the colorful foliage.