The once pristine, cozy cabin near the Nehalem River was now a broken-down mess. Torn curtains hung in the windows, and the front yard was a swale of mud. The river, swollen with spring, ran by, and the constable saw where Ike had built an illegal fish trap. The river’s edge was littered with trash and fish spines.
The house appeared empty. The windows were dark, and Ike’s truck was missing from the front yard.
The constable approached with care, signaling for Larry and Amanda to stay back. The porch was swarming with dark flies. One landed on Larry’s ear. He cried out, swatting at it.
“Deerflies,” Amanda said. “They take bites out of you.” She knew all about biting insects from the zoo. The keepers had to be vigilant about keeping the bugs down.
The constable knocked. There was no answer. Larry peered inside the front porch window. The inside of the cabin was piled with trash.
“Are you sure he still lives here?” Larry asked.
“No, but some of this garbage looks recent.”
“There’s no car out front,” Amanda said, trying the front door.
“We don’t have a search warrant,” the constable said.
“I’m not a police officer,” Amanda said.
“I can’t let you—”
The door opened, and the smell billowed out. It was the stench of rotting food and raw blood from animals slaughtered and then cooked in the open fireplace. Amanda reached for a light switch and discoveredthere was no power. The place was in darkness. The sound of the flies was loud.
“He’s not here,” the constable said.
Amanda peered into the mess. The kitchen counter, covered in old copies of the local paper, had been used for butchering. The papers were dark with dried blood.
“Maybe we can find the knife,” she said.
“Stop,” Larry said. “If you find it, they’ll never let it into court, because the search wasn’t done properly. Come on now. Out of there.”
She retreated. Larry closed the door, and the constable looked relieved.
“It’s weird he left it unlocked,” Amanda said.
“I grew up on the coast,” the constable said. “We never lock our doors.”
They walked to the shed out back. Years of spent blood darkened its walls. A rotting deer carcass hung inside. The smell about knocked Amanda over.
“Why would he hang meat like that and leave it?” Larry asked, holding his sleeve over his nose. His bitten ear was still bleeding.
“Alcohol,” the constable said. “Probably killed the deer, gutted it, and forgot about it.”
“Or he had a trip to make, to Portland,” Amanda said.
They walked back to the constable’s car, almost slipping in the mud.
“What’s next?” Amanda asked as they drove away.
“I’ll find him,” the constable said. “He’s probably out for a hunt—I didn’t see any rifles or binoculars inside—and when he turns up, I’ll bring him in for questioning.”
“You got cause?” Larry asked, holding a handkerchief to his ear.
“I don’t think a man like him will ask,” the constable said.
“Do you want me to make up the guest bed?” Larry asked Amanda that evening as they finished a simple supper in front of the fire. Larry had made scrambled eggs and toast. Amanda’s car was parked down the road. She had said she would feel safer staying with him.
“That would be nice,” she said. “I’m only staying tonight. I have something to do tomorrow.”
