Page 80 of Silent Bones
The dog let out a low chuff from the floor. Dale reached down, fingers brushing its fur.
“You catalog bones?” Noah asked, motioning to the shelf of labeled skulls. Coyote. Bear cub. Bobcat. Even a raccoon with a fractured jaw.
“Some things you bury,” Dale said, “so no one trips over them. Others… you keep out for all to see. So no one forgets.”
Noah stared back at him and studied him. “Do you know if the DEC ever covered up an incident?”
“You’d have to speak to them.”
“I’m asking you.”
“I’m not at liberty to say. And even if I was, would anyone believe it?”
He had a point.
There was a lot that happened in High Peaks that got brushed under the rug. Noah could tell this wasn’t going far. He finished his tea, then set the mug on a coaster cut from a pine round. “I appreciate your time.”
Dale followed him out to the porch. The air had shifted again. Colder now. “Looks like a storm’s coming,” Dale said. “You feel it in the woods.”
Noah paused. Then nodded once, stepping off the porch and returned to his vehicle. He didn’t look back, but an unsettling feeling followed him the whole way down the road, like something still watched from between the trees. He didn’t turn on the radio. The forest was enough, branches scraping faintly inthe wind, the drumming echo of his own thoughts louder than anything the speakers could offer.
The woods thickened on either side as he drove. Shadows ran long across the path, and the sunlight through the canopy strobed the windshield like Morse code. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on his thigh. Calm on the outside. But inside, something had uncoiled.
Something about the report from 2024 didn’t sit right. Filed under terrain access violations. Redacted names. A faint strike-through on one of the follow-up lines. The last sign-off: D. Thurston. Retired. Nothing jumped out at first glance, but now? Now it was all shouting.
He tapped his phone to life on the passenger seat, hit McKenzie’s number.
The line picked up quick. “You still alive?”
“Yeah.” Noah’s voice was low. “I just left his place.”
“How’d it go?”
Noah kept his eyes on the road. “Like drinking tea with a loaded gun on the table.”
“Ah… so nothing useful?”
“Not really. He talked in riddles.”
He could hear McKenzie shift on the other end, the faint squeak of his chair. “You think he knows more but is keeping silent for the sake of the DEC? Maybe he’s been threatened.”
“I think he knows what I’m asking, even when I’m not asking.”
“He didn’t give you anything?”
Noah watched a hawk arc over the treetops. “No. He didn’t deflect. He redirected. Every answer was a mirror.”
He’d met his share of retired rangers who talked like shamans, half backwoods, half prophecy. Sometimes the forest just did that to a man.
“Well, add it to the list of leads that go nowhere,” McKenzie said. “Though, I did make some progress today. Did you know that two of the parents from the group are a part of High Peaks Board of Trustees? Yeah. I imagine if their kids were involved in an incident, that it wouldn’t look good for them. It certainly explains why Bill Calder pulled Avery from the group.”
“It might also explain a cover-up. Have you checked in with Avery to see if she’s been approached or spooked by anyone?”
“Callie did. Everything seems fine.”
“All right. We’ll talk later.”
Noah ended the call and drove in silence.
