Death in the Dark Woods by Annelise Ryan

Author:Annelise Ryan [Ryan, Annelise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Sorry, but I can’t put much stock in Freda’s story,” I told Charlie as we walked to the back edge of Freda’s property and gazed down into the ravine running alongside her house. “If her DVD titles are any indication, she clearly has a case of confirmation bias. I think Poppy was most likely attacked by a bear.”

“I know. Sorry if this was a waste of time, but I thought it might be worth hearing her out. I suppose I feel a little sorry for her because of her dog and all.”

“Of course, and I hope little Poppy does okay. There’s no need to apologize. It wasn’t a wasted trip. You never know when something might turn out to be more important than it seems at first blush.”

The two of us stood side by side for a minute, staring down into the ravine. The sides were steep, angling down to a small, dry creek bed forty feet below that I imagined might sport a healthy flow of water in the spring when the snow melted. Getting down there wouldn’t be easy for man or beast as the sides were covered with deadfall, bushes, exposed roots, and an assortment of vines.

“Does this ravine run through the entire town?” I asked Charlie.

She nodded. “It does.”

“It’s the same ravine you can see from the dog park you told me about, the one on the outskirts of town?”

“It is. And it runs all the way down to Lake Superior.”

I nodded contemplatively. “It’s quite lovely in an ominous, menacing kind of way,” I said. Once again I considered telling Charlie what I’d seen in the ravine last night and once again I decided to wait. Instead, I said, “Where are we off to next?”

We turned in unison to head back to the car. “We’re going to chat with Walt Kendall. I sent him a text yesterday asking if we could come by and I got an answer from him while we were at Freda’s. He said he’s willing to talk to us, though he doesn’t want to do it in front of his coworkers. He works on the docks at a marina loading boats onto the lake in the spring and unloading them this time of the year to prepare them for dry dock. The guys who work down there are a tight group. They party together as well as work together and they’re quite the testosterone factory, so you might want to gird your loins.”

Her comment made me chuckle. “Got it. My feminist armor is firmly in place.”

The drive took less than five minutes, and Charlie parked on the street. As we walked toward the small marina Charlie pointed to an area where several boats were perched on stanchions and a giant lift ran out over the lake water. Two men were scrubbing the hull of a dry-docked boat.

“That’s Walt,” Charlie said, pointing to the left half of the duo, a fellow who was slender and quite tall, with a flaming-red head of hair.

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