Paul came ambling in the front door, and Margie jumped up to embrace him. Even though she was fairly tall, the top of her head hardly reached Paul’s chest.
“You all right? Must have been horrible finding him like that,” Cash heard Margie whisper to Paul.
Paul grunted in assent, stroking the back of her head fondly, before gently moving past her so he could address Cash and Colcord.
“Do you need anything else from us?” Paul asked. “It’s been a long day, and we’re both tired.”
“Just a couple of questions for you,” said Cash. “Margie mentioned a problem with hikers sometimes trespassing on your land. Has that happened recently?”
“Yes—four of them passed through not that long ago.”
“When did you see them?”
“About a week, or maybe more.”
“Can you think back, please, and be more specific? The date could be important.”
After a moment, he said, “Nine days. I’m sure of it, because it was the same day that Adam—that’s my son—got bucked off and took a spill.”
“Can you show us where?” Cash asked.
Paul nodded.
“I’m going to check on the bees,” Margie said, trotting out the front door.
Paul motioned for them to follow him out the back door. They left the covered porch and rounded a paddock recently seeded with grass.
“This paddock isn’t being used right now,” Paul explained, picking his way around some old cow patties. “We use rotational grazing. Rests our grass and distributes the cow shit best. But these back pastures are harder to monitor, since they’re behind the hill.”
At the far of the paddock, a line of pines started beyond the fence. Paul pointed to the trees.
“This is where I last saw them. All four duded up in fancy Gore-Tex camo. I bet they never hunted a day in their lives. Denver yuppies who think they can just hike through private land.” He glowered. “I’ve got a loaded shotgun here. One of these days, I’m gonna give ’em a scare.”
“You’re sure there were four?”
“I just got a glimpse of them from afar—could’ve been more.”
“Packs?”
“Yeah. They were loaded down.”
Colcord turned his eyes to the ground. Beyond the fence, along the verge of the pines, was a layer of soft moss, and in it, he could see some indented footprints. He motioned for Cash, pointing them out. She nodded.
“Thank you, Mr. Brooksfield. You’ve been very helpful, and I appreciate you answering our questions. Mind if we look around some more?” Cash asked.
Paul assented, and they said their goodbyes. His big frame ambled back over the pasture over the hill toward the house.
Colcord had spent months in mountainous terrain in northern Iraq, desert landscapes like Anbar, and in the dense urban streets of Baghdad and Fallujah early in the Iraq War. He had learned to track with sensors and other surveillance tech as well as without. Despite his experience, when he knelt to inspect the moss to see if anyone had passed through, it took a couple of minutes of searching before he could find any sign of travelers. The hikers seemed to have been careful, and nine days was a long time for tracks to be preserved. Luckily, it hadn’t rained. Finally, he found more faint tracks across a boggy patch of moss at the tree line. Four individuals, going into the wilderness. No return tracks visible. Colcord snapped a few pictures with his cell phone.
“I’m gonna follow these tracks.” Colcord straightened, looking for the next sign. “Only step where I’m stepping, Cash.”
It took him awhile, but around twenty feet farther into the woods, he spied it: a crushed fern. He took another photo. Around thirty more feet into the forest, Colcord found a patch of marsh grass that bowed in the opposite direction as the other blades. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it had been flattened and then, curiously, it seemed like someone had attempted to restraighten the grass manually. He was sure of it now: Whoever had been through here was covering their tracks. After a few minutes more of searching, Colcord found a pine cone that had been scuffed from the forest floor.
A quarter mile in, they reached an old barbed wire fence that was evidently the property line. Searching along it, Colcord located the placewhere the wires had been pulled apart to climb through, and then readjusted to give the impression that nobody had passed. He saw more signs of displaced needles and forest litter on the ground on either side. After climbing through the fence, they continued on.
Whoever had come through here had been extremely careful in placing their feet. There were almost no clear footprints, something difficult to achieve in this swampy terrain. He had to admit, he was impressed.
“Camo,” Cash said. “Is that usual outside of hunting season?”
