Page 28 of Little Buried Secrets

“Good. It’s settled.” Foley turned toward me. “Reach out to Simone, would you? Let’s get her out here too. I’d also suggest Hunter, but she had a bit of a hard time during the search party last night.”

“In what way?”

“Jittery, like she was struggling to be there. Nothing too bad. Still, it’s my impression she might not be up for it right now. Would you agree?”

“I would,” I said.

Based on what we’d already found, who knew what else we’d discover today?

CHAPTER 12

Foley mapped out our individual search locations and instructed everyone to meet back in a couple of hours to report our findings, or lack thereof. A half hour into my search, I came upon a creek. I stopped at the water’s edge, listening to the soothing murmur of the water as it slid and tumbled over rocks and crevices. Glancing at my hands, I realized they were in desperate need of a wash. I crouched down, immersing them into the icy water before shaking them off in the chilly afternoon air.

The forest area adjacent to the trail was brimming with sights and sounds. Birds chirped from above, and the occasional bend and snap of twigs and branches crunching could be heard in the distance. The view was breathtaking, and yet, it was often in the most magnificent and tranquil of places that my mind wandered the most. It wasn’t long before I was thinking about how easy it would be to hide a body here—a body that, if hidden well enough, might never be found.

As I pondered the thought, the sun’s rays filtered through the trees, casting light onto the terrain. My eyes came to rest on the forest floor on the opposite side of the creek. A bit of ground looked different than the area surrounding it—ground which appeared to have been disturbed. If not for the thickets of leggy weeds rising up around it, I may not have even noticed the difference in terrain.

I hunched over, eyeing the depth of the creek. I guessed it was about a foot or two deep, and at most, twenty feet wide. I rolled my pants, stuck my boots into the water, and trudged my way to the other side. As I stepped out, a sound in the distance startled me, and I turned, scanning the area I’d just come from.

Whitlock was seated on a rock, his face forlorn as he stared down at his hiking boots like he wanted to chastise them. He removed both shoes, and his socks, and plunged his feet into the creek. Closing his eyes, he bellowed out a sigh of relief.

I felt sorry for him, imagining the pain he was feeling. Even so, I couldn’t contain my laughter. It echoed around me, and he peered across the creek, forcing a smile as he said, “Well, well … fancy meeting you here.”

“How bad is it?” I asked.

“If you’re referring to the numerous blisters I’ve acquired, it’s possible I’ll need to be hauled out of here on a stretcher before day’s end.”

“I’m glad you decided to take a break. If you keep going, your blisters will get worse.”

He lifted a finger. “Good point, except for one thing: I’m no quitter.”

“Don’t think of it like you’re quitting. Think of it like you’re looking after yourself. I always carry a first aid kit with me. I have ointment and some bandages, if you’re interested.”

“Once I’ve given my feet a bit of a soak, I’d be most grateful. How have you been faring this fine afternoon? Anything noteworthy to share?”

I expected nothing less from Whitlock.

Even in pain, he still found a way to remain positive.

“Before I crossed the creek, I was standing right about where you are now,” I said. “When I looked over to this side, I was sure I saw some terrain that looked a bit different from the rest. Now that I’m over here, I can’t seem to locate it.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Stay where you are. I don’t want to add any additional wear and tear on your body today.”

He pulled off his glasses, wiped them off on his shirt, and slid them back on again. “Speaking of wear and tear, I should have changed into more hiking-appropriate clothing before coming out here. There wasn’t time.”

“Do you even own any hiking-appropriate clothing?” I asked.

“Come to think of it … no. I do not.”

We had a good laugh, and as our laughter died down, I continued my search. I walked several feet away from the creek and froze. I had been right. The soil beneath where I now stood was soft and crumbly, unlike the hard ground around it.

Had a hole been dug and covered over?

It sure looked like it.

If I was right, the digger had done a shabby job.

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