Page 3 of Wilderness Search (Eagle Mountain: Unsolved Mysteries #2)

Aaron and Jake stayed to process the accident scene—at least the portion of it on the highway—then made the drive to Mount Wilson Lodge to meet with Dwight Prentice.

Aaron had yet to meet the popular former deputy, though he had heard a few stories.

And he was aware that the reason he had a job was that Dwight had left an opening on the small force when he decided to leave and run his late uncle’s hunting and fishing lodge.

The lodge itself was a soaring A-frame made of massive logs with large windows looking out onto a turquoise lake—the kind of place people pictured when they heard about a retreat in the Colorado mountains.

Smaller cabins were scattered like dice around the lodge, and a sign at the entrance advertised the availability of fishing, hunting and boating access.

Dwight Prentice waited on the front porch as Jake parked the SUV. “Civilian life seems to suit you,” Jake said as he and Dwight shook hands. “This is Aaron Ames.”

“My replacement.” Dwight shook Aaron’s hand. A tall man with a thick shock of dark hair, dressed in faded jeans and a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he fixed Aaron with the assessing gaze of a law enforcement officer. “Good to meet you. What brings you two here?”

“Can we go inside and talk?” Jake asked.

“Sure.” Dwight led the way through a lobby area with soaring ceilings, to a cramped office.

A freckled blonde, her hair caught up in a clip on top of her head, fine lines at the corners of her eyes, looked up from behind the desk. “Hello, Jake.” Her gaze darted to Aaron. “Is something wrong?”

“This is my wife, Brenda,” Dwight introduced her to Aaron. He leaned against the end of the desk and crossed his arms. “What is this about?”

“Do you know a Trevor Lawson?” Jake asked.

“He’s one of my employees,” Dwight said. “Is he in some kind of trouble?”

“I’m sorry to tell you he’s dead. His car went off Dixon Pass, along that big straightaway on the descent toward town.”

“He went off the road?” Dwight uncrossed his arms and leaned forward.

“Into the canyon?” Brenda asked.

Jake glanced at her. “Yes. Maybe last night or early this morning. A passing motorist noticed the wreck and called it in. When was the last time you saw him?”

“Yesterday,” Dwight said. “He’s off work today. I knew he wasn’t at his cabin, but I thought he might be off somewhere with his brother.”

“Who’s his brother?”

“Wade Lawson. He’s a counselor at the youth camp down the road—Mountain Kingdom. What happened to Trevor, exactly? How did he go off the road in that straightaway?”

“There’s some indication it might be deliberate,” Jake said. “There weren’t any skid marks or other indications that he tried to stop. We don’t have a toxicology report, but the first responders who brought him up said the car smelled strongly of alcohol.”

“That doesn’t sound like Trevor,” Brenda said.

Dwight nodded. “I never knew him to be much of a drinker.”

“How long have you known him?” Aaron asked.

“Not long. He worked for Uncle Dave and I kept him on after Brenda and I took over the place. He’s been a good worker.”

“Did he seem upset about anything lately?” Jake asked.

“Not at all,” Brenda said.

“He seemed fine to me,” Dwight agreed. “You might ask Wade. The two of them seemed close.”

“We’ll talk to his brother,” Jake said.

“Tell him to call me anytime,” Dwight said. “I’m sure he’ll want Trevor’s things.”

They said goodbye to Brenda, and Dwight walked with them to the parking lot. “Let me know if you find out anything,” he said.

“Is there anyone else we should talk to about Trevor?” Jake asked. “A girlfriend? Other family or close friends?”

“I don’t know much about his personal life. Maybe Wade will know more. You could ask the camp owner, Scott Sprague. Trevor did odd jobs for him sometimes.”

“Thanks.”

Mountain Kingdom Kids Camp was only two miles from Mount Wilson Lodge.

As soon as Jake turned into the long, wooded drive leading up to camp headquarters, Aaron felt thrust back in time.

The countryside around his hometown in Vermont had been dotted with similar summer camps, with their open-air pavilions filled with picnic tables, clusters of batten-and-board-sided cabins, scattered canoes along the shores of a small lake, archery targets set in fields and trees festooned with yarn-and-stick creations or braided-leather ornaments crafted by generations of campers who returned summer after summer.

He spotted several groups of children in matching T-shirts near the lake and a few milling around the cabins as he and Jake parked in front of a square wooden building labeled Office.

A harried-looking woman with shoulder-length gray hair looked up as they entered. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“We’re looking for Wade Lawson,” Jake said.

A deep furrow formed between her sparse eyebrows. “Has Wade done something wrong?”

“No. Can you tell us where to find him?”

“You should talk to Mr. Sprague.” She picked up a radio and keyed the button on the side. “Mr. Sprague, there are two sheriff’s deputies here. They’re looking for Wade.”

“Tell them I’ll be right up,” said a deep voice.

The woman’s gaze met theirs. “If you could wait just a minute.”

While they waited, Aaron studied the posters tacked to the wall by the door—instructions on how to thoroughly douse a campfire, first aid diagrams and handwritten lost-and-found notices.

Found: Red Flashlight on Lanyard. Lost: One Silver Earring with a Green Stone.

He paused before a large poster with a long list of Rules for Campers.

At the bottom, in bold letters: “Campers in violation of rules will be punished with loss of privileges. Multiple violations will result in a call to your parents.” Words to strike fear in the heart of most children, he thought.

The door opened and a stocky man with a graying crew cut stepped in. “I’m Scott Sprague,” he said. “I’m the owner of Mountain Kingdom. What seems to be the problem?”

“No problem,” Jake said. “Mr. Sprague, we need to talk to Wade Lawson.”

“Call me Scott. What’s this about?”

“Do you know his brother, Trevor?”

“Sure, I know Trevor. Is he in some kind of trouble?”

“He was killed in an accident on Dixon Pass,” Jake said.

Scott blinked. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Can you tell us where we can find Wade?” Jake asked.

“Sure. I’ll take you to him.” Scott turned to the woman. “Track down Veronica and ask her to come over to the boat launch and take over from Wade,” he said.

Then he opened the door and exited the cabin.

Jake and Aaron hurried to keep up with Scott, who, despite his stocky stature and graying hair, set a brisk pace. He cut through the trees, headed directly for the shoreline and a dock where a group of girls in green T-shirts paddled about in yellow-and-red canoes.

“Wade!” Scott called.

A slight blond man with gold wire-rimmed glasses—Aaron had mistaken him originally for one of the campers—turned to frown at them.

“Come here,” Scott called, and motioned with his hand.

Wade glanced toward the girls, then lifted the whistle that hung from a cord around his neck and blew it. “Everybody out of the water,” he called.

The girls had noticed the two uniformed deputies, and stared, motionless, some in mid-paddle. Wade blew the whistle a second time. “Out of the water!”

“You heard the man,” Scott shouted.

The girls all headed for the dock at once, resulting in a traffic jam it took several minutes to sort out.

But at last all the canoes were beached and the girls gathered in a knot on the shore.

A young woman with long dark hair loped toward them.

“Mrs. Mason said you needed me,” she panted as she approached Scott.

“Take over the canoeing instruction from Wade,” Scott said.

Wade had joined them, and was giving the two deputies nervous looks. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“These two want to talk to you about Trevor,” Scott said.

What little color was in the pale young man’s face drained away. “Do you know where he is?” he asked. “Is he in some kind of trouble?”

“When was the last time you saw your brother?” Jake asked, his voice gentle.

“Last night. About seven thirty.” He glanced at Scott. Aaron thought he looked nervous.

“Thanks for your help, Scott,” Jake said. “We’ll let you get back to work now.”

“I don’t have anything pressing,” Scott said.

“We’d like to speak with Mr. Lawson alone,” Jake said.

Scott’s mouth tightened. Aaron wondered if he was going to argue, but after a tense moment, he nodded. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he said, and turned away.

No one said anything until the older man was out of sight, then Wade said, “What is this about? Is Trevor okay? I’ve been trying all day to get hold of him, but he’s not answering his phone.”

“Let’s go over here and sit down.” Jake led the way to a picnic table about fifty feet away and sat. Wade sat across from him, hands clasped between his knees.

“I’m afraid your brother was killed in an accident on Dixon Pass,” Jake said. “His car went over the side into the canyon.”

Wade made a choking sound and looked away. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. After a long moment, he faced them again. “Are you sure? You’re positive it’s Trevor?”

“The photo on the driver’s license in his wallet confirmed his identity,” Jake said.

Wade blinked rapidly, eyes reddening. He swallowed again, struggling for control. “When did this happen?” he asked, his voice a harsh whisper.

“We’re not sure. A passing motorist saw the sun glinting off a taillight and called it in this morning.”

“He went off the road? What happened?”

“We don’t know,” Jake said. “When you spoke to your brother last night, was he upset about something?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think so.” He looked down at his hands. “I didn’t actually talk to him before he left. I mean, he didn’t say goodbye. He was just here, and then he wasn’t.”

“Was that unusual? Him not saying goodbye?” Aaron asked.