The Valley Of Lost Children: Tye Caine Wilderness Mysteries, #1

By David Barbur

It starts with a footprint. It ends with a murder.

 

Wildlife tracker and wilderness survival expert Tye Caine just wants to live in the woods and be left alone, but a killer haunts the misty forests of the Pacific Northwest.

 

When someone attempts to abduct a child, and a local resident is murdered, Tye is drawn into a web of hidden secrets and madness.

 

Soon he finds himself teamed up with a motley crew of the local librarian, a retired detective, his best friend, and a local blacksmith with a secret. First, they try to separate the truth from lies, then find themselves just trying to survive.

 

If you like mysteries set in the wilderness, with a hint of the supernatural, download Valley of Lost Children today. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cougar Rock Press
• Release date: Jul 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393048305

Book preview

1

Kaity was a librarian. It wasn’t her job to look for missing children.

She did it anyway.

She told herself she was just going for a drive, but she knew it wasn’t true. She left the city behind and was soon on gravel roads in the state forest. The little car handled poorly on the loose gravel, so she slowed down and gripped the steering wheel tighter. The forests of Washington State weren’t her element. She’d grown up on the East Coast in a family she often referred to as avid indoors people.

It would be dark soon. A thundercloud bruised the western sky. Kaity looked at her cell phone: no service.

She had a water bottle and a half-eaten granola bar. As the temperature outside dropped before the oncoming storm, she regretted not bringing a sweater. Since moving here, she’d meant to buy an emergency kit for her car, but every payday she’d put it off one more time.

The road ended in a closed gate. She looked at the Washington State road map open on the seat beside her. Many of the roads up here didn’t even appear on her phone.

Cell phone mapping had left her long out of practice reading paper maps. She carefully retraced her turns from the paved road and located her spot on the map.

Earlier, Kaity had passed Natalie’s ramshackle house, where a lone sheriff’s truck sat outside. Natalie’s mother had called, sounding drunk, or at least hungover, to see if anyone had seen her seven-year-old daughter at the little library branch in the town of Yacolt. Natalie’s mother was confused about what day it was, as the branch was only staffed on Wednesday, and today was Monday.

Kaity was miles from Natalie’s house, with alternating stands of dense trees and clear cuts in between. There were dozens of forest roads up here. Most of them ended in dead ends. Some were too rough for her car. She’d been driving for hours, meticulously marking each road with a highlighter as she looked for Natalie.

I should leave, she said. She had a quarter tank of gas left and hadn’t eaten dinner.

She thought about Natalie. The little girl would ride her bike for miles, just to come into the self-service library branch on the days when Kaity stocked it with books. She’d sit in the corner for hours, devouring the new books Kaity brought. Kaity tried to keep a professional distance from all the kids at the branch, but there was something about Natalie that tugged at her. The kid was special, smart beyond her years, and seemed like an old soul in a young body.

At least it was easy to turn around in her little car. As she bounced down the road, she felt sick to her stomach.

She slowed to check the map one last time. Maybe there was a side road she’d missed, something she could check on the way out.

Kaity was grateful she slowed down, because a big brown, knobby-kneed shape materialized before her. She slammed on the brakes and had just enough time to catch a flash of a white rump patch as the huge animal dove into the thick bushes on the side of the road.

Swallowing hard past the lump in her throat, she tried to figure out what she’d just seen. Too big to be a deer, she thought.

An elk. That must be what an elk looks like.

She started driving again, slower this time. The sky opened up. One second, she could see, the next the rain blinded her. Even with the wipers going, she could barely move at a walking speed. The rain reflected the glare from her headlights.

She turned on public radio to distract herself. She told herself she would drive to the main road, and she would be fine.

A shape appeared out of the gloom, and Kaity braked, thinking it was another animal. She was only a few feet from it when she realized it wasn’t.

It was a little girl.

It was Natalie. Wet, bedraggled blond hair trailed behind her as she ran across the road. She wore mismatched pajamas and only one rubber boot. She ran across the road, seeming not even to notice the car that slid to a stop only a foot from her. She disappeared into the tree line on the other side of the road.

Kaity barely remembered to put the car in park before she jumped out.

Natalie! she screamed. A rumble of thunder answered.

Kaity looked at her phone. Still no service.

Think. Think. Think, she said to herself.

She could drive to a place with a cell signal. She could drive back to Natalie’s house, where there was a phone and maybe still a sheriff’s deputy.

She looked up and down the road, trying to find some way to mark this spot. It looked the same as everywhere else up here: gravel road, trees on both sides.

Kaity’s khaki work pants and polo shirt with the library logo were already soaked from rain. Twenty minutes before, it had been a warm summer evening. Now, it felt like it was twenty degrees cooler.

In her mind, she replayed the brief glimpse of Natalie. The girl was soaked already, and it was getting dark. It might be hours before Kaity would lead someone back to this spot.

Kaity opened the hatchback of her little car. She ignored the voice in her head that told her this probably wasn’t a good idea. From the back of her car, she pulled out a gym bag. The bag was full of clothes, still damp from her morning workout, a towel, and a bottle of water. She pulled on the sweaty t-shirt over her polo. It was better than nothing.

She slung the bag over her shoulder, shut the car door, and set out into the trees.

2

Tye Caine was listening to his truck’s stereo and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel when he came around a corner and almost hit the compact car parked in the middle of the forest road.

His old pickup fishtailed as he slammed on the brakes, and he narrowly squeezed past the little compact without running off the road. First he was irritated, then he realized no one was in the car and grew concerned.

He pulled on a waterproof shell, exited the truck, and circled the car. The hood was still warm, and the engine ticked as it cooled. The driver’s door was latched but not completely shut. The inside of the car was tidy, with only a purse and an open map on the passenger seat. The right side of the rear bumper had a sticker that said, Librarian by day, superhero by night. The other side had a sticker that read, Librarian. I make shhhh! happen.

The skid marks in the gravel were easy to read. The car had stopped suddenly. There was no damage to the front end from colliding with an animal. Tye couldn’t see any reason for someone to stop here and get out. There was nothing interesting for photography. Tye was up here scouting for the upcoming bow hunting season, but he doubted the owner of the car was a hunter. It was the wrong season for mushroom hunting, and while the huckleberries were ripening at higher elevations, there were none in this stretch of forest.

The coarse gravel showed where the car had skidded but no footprints. Tye searched the sides of the road. Even though it was technically daylight, the heavy cloud cover made it hard to see fine detail, so he pulled a flashlight out of his pocket.

In a patch of dirt by the side of the road, he found the first tracks. They were child-sized. One foot was bare. The other looked like it was shod with a boot. Tye cataloged it in his brain, automatically comparing it to thousands of tracks he’d studied in training or on search and rescue missions. He was confident it was a seven or eight-year-old. He looked across the road, drawing an imaginary line from the track straight across to the other side. It passed right in front of the bumper of the stopped car.

Close one, he said.

He walked across the road. The tracks on the other side were easy to see. There were more tracks from the kid and a new set of prints. Tye bent to study them. The details were rapidly disappearing in the driving rain. He guessed they were a women’s size 8, some kind of athletic shoe.

Tye squatted there, looking at the track as the heavy rain ran off the brim of his hat. He did not understand why a little kid was running through the forest, wearing only one boot, and being followed by a woman in tennis shoes who was a librarian.

It wasn’t his job to find out. He’d just moved here. He wasn’t a SAR volunteer anymore. He could just go home and call it in. That would take at least forty-five minutes to an hour. Tye didn’t even own a cell phone, so he’d have to drive all the way to his house.

The tracks would be gone by then. Already, the temperature was falling ahead of the oncoming storm. Even in the height of summer, it was cool here at night. A child could be hypothermic in just a couple of hours.

He stood and walked back to his truck. From the passenger seat, he grabbed a lightweight backpack. His revolver and gun belt were locked up in the back. He briefly considered grabbing them. Weird things happened out in the woods sometimes. People felt like they could do whatever they wanted out here.

But if he tracked down a scared kid and woman, showing up with a gun on his hip wasn’t likely to make them less afraid.

He left the gun behind and started following the trail.

3

Kaity stepped off the road and immediately slipped and fell down the steep bank. The earth, parched from weeks of no rain, couldn’t soak up the water fast enough to keep up with the downpour, so the ground underfoot was slick and treacherous. She landed hard on her tailbone and felt the cold water seep into her thin khaki pants.

She half slid, half scrambled the rest of the way down to the bottom of the embankment, and realized she’d seen Natalie charge down the slope but did not understand where she’d gone from there.

Footprints, she said and started casting back and forth, looking for marks on the ground.

Kaity had little outdoor experience. She’d lived on the East Coast her whole life and had only moved to Washington State three years ago. She’d make the drive to the library branch in the little town of Yacolt, look at the forested mountains, and resolve to try hiking someday. There was just so little time left after work, getting settled into a new place, and her other pursuits.

She looked at the woods in front of her. She was in a little depression, with water flowing. What would you call it? A gully? A swale? It probably wasn’t big enough to be called a canyon. The trees up by the road were big evergreens, regularly spaced. Down here the woods were different. Dense, small trees grew so thick it didn’t even look like she would fit between them.

She found what looked like a path. She doubted it was a hiking trail, more likely it was made by animals, but there in the center were the clear imprints of some little toes.

Kaity worried for the first time about getting lost. She realized the water was running out of a culvert under the road, and her car was parked just over it. She reasoned that if she kept the water in sight, she could backtrack her way to the car.

She didn’t know what she would do if Natalie led her on a wild chase away from the water.

Kaity looked around, trying to fix an image of the different hilltops and peaks in her mind. They all looked the same.

She took a deep breath and plunged into the woods.

4

Tye carefully picked his way down the embankment. He could see where the woman had slid in the mud, and he had no desire to twist an ankle or dislocate a knee trying to follow.

He didn’t understand what the two were doing. The tracks followed a little creek that carried runoff from the culvert above into a tangled mess of small alder trees and vine maple that frequently grew in spots like this. It would be difficult to walk through without a machete.

The lugged soles of Tye’s hiking boots dug in and helped him maintain traction where the woman had slipped in her athletic shoes. Soon, he was at the bottom, looking at her tracks where she had cast about, looking for the girl’s sign. She’d missed some obvious stuff, bent-over grass, smudges in the dirt, but had apparently picked up on a clear print in the middle of a game trail.

The game trail followed the natural line of drift, the easiest path through the creek bottom. Animals, always seeking to conserve energy, would usually create their trails along those lines, and lost humans would inevitably follow them.

Unfortunately, game trails were often no help to lost people. This was one of those times. Even though he hadn’t lived here long, Tye had wandered enough of the back roads and trails to have a decent mental map. This creek led into steep, rugged country that would eventually plunge almost vertically into the canyon for the east fork of the Lewis River.

Tye tracked quickly. As he walked, he tied his shoulder-length hair back with a piece of old bow string and stuffed it inside the collar of his jacket so it wouldn’t get soaked.

Tye had just turned thirty. He was of medium height and had the build of a man who walked for hours in the woods and got his exercise pulling a longbow and working with a shovel and axe rather than going to a gym. He could keep this pace for hours if he had to.

The child and the woman were leaving clear signs mixed in with the deer and elk prints. He figured he was gaining on them. The driving rain was erasing details of the tracks quickly, but they were becoming clearer the farther he went.

He saw a new print in the trail that stopped him cold.

It was undeniably a bear track and a big one. Southwest Washington State didn’t have a grizzly bear population, but the native black bears, fed on abundant berries and salmon, could still easily weigh a few hundred pounds.

The track was fresh. Despite the rain, it was clear and detailed.

What caused him the most concern was that the bear track was over top of the woman’s track. That meant it was at most a few minutes old.

Tye was concerned but not frightened. Black bears weren’t the bloodthirsty monsters some people wanted them to be. They would typically run at the first sight or scent of a human.

What worried Tye was the possibility of running into the bear in this dense forest. The wind constantly shifted, so the bear’s nose might not detect him until too late. They were nearsighted, so the animal might not see him until he was close, and the wind and driving rain would mask the sounds Tye would make.

He briefly regretted not bringing his revolver. He swung his little pack off his shoulders and pulled a fixed-blade knife. The blade wasn’t much longer than the width of the palm of his hand, but it was better than the folding Buck knife on his belt.

As he fed his belt through the loop on the knife sheath, he started talking.

Hey, bear! he yelled, then listened. He heard nothing but the wind in the trees.

He kept walking, but he slowed down. Tye started moving through the forest as if he were hunting. He walked a few steps, then looked around, peering into shadows and watching for movement. He lived for moments like this. Slipping through a forest; attuned only to his senses and watching for a large animal felt like the way people were supposed to live. All the artifice and complications of modern life were stripped away.

All the tracks veered off the game trail. The child randomly took off to the right. Tye read the sign on the ground and could tell the woman had missed it at first, then backtracked and got back on the trail. That made sense, but what bothered Tye was the bear tracks followed, too. This wasn’t random chance. The animal was clearly following the two humans.

Tye had spent hundreds of hours tracking animals. They often did surprising things. He didn’t know if the bear was curious, if it was following the woman and the girl intending to drive them out of its territory, or if it had predatory designs. This was unusual.

He stopped and picked up a three-foot stick as thick as his wrist. He wasn’t sure how much it would help, but having something in his hands felt good.

From his pack, he took an LED headlamp and strapped it on. It was getting darker, and he wanted both hands free.

He kept following the tracks. He was still gaining. He stood over one impression in the dirt. The child’s print was partially covered by the woman’s, which was overlaid by the bear. As he watched, fine detail disappeared, wiped out by the raindrops.

The wind shifted, and his nostrils flared. A heavy animal scent was in the air, a combination of wet dog and a barnyard.

Hey, bear! he yelled, shining the light around.

At first, he thought it was a shadow at the base of a bigleaf maple tree. Then it stood, and Tye realized he was looking at a black bear, maybe fifty feet away. It stood on its hind legs, and Tye felt his mouth go dry. The bear was easily one of the biggest black bears he’d ever seen.

It stared at him, blinking in the bright light, and sniffed the air.

Tye forced himself to breathe deeply and stay calm. He’d been this close to bears before, but it was never routine. Part of his reptile brain said to run, but that would be a mistake. Instead, he spread his arms wide, trying to appear big.

Hey, bear! I really need to get through here, he yelled.

With a woof! the bear dropped to all fours, and Tye jumped, thinking it was about to charge him. Instead, it veered to one side, crashing through the brush. It wasn’t running, but it was moving faster than a bear’s normal slow waddle. It was fat and sleek, undoubtedly full of berries from this year’s bumper crop. He got the impression it was older. It had silver on its muzzle and back.

Soon it was out of sight, then the sound of it crashing through the brush was lost in the wind’s sound in the trees.

He bent to study the tracks. The child’s footprints were going in a random direction, and the woman followed. He moved another fifty yards deeper into the brush and paused.

He thought he heard a voice.

Hello! he yelled. Around his neck, he wore a necklace made of paracord that held a small compass, a lighter, a spare key for his truck, and a whistle. He pulled the whistle from under his shirt and blew two sharp blasts that carried through the trees far better than his voice.

Again, he thought he heard a voice, but the wind snatched it away. He climbed atop a fallen log, careful not to slip on the wet, rotten bark, and blew the whistle again. This time, he definitely heard a reply and saw a weak light appear from behind a tree.

After that, it was easy to find them. Part of him felt a professional pride that his guesses had been right. The woman looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, medium height with short dark hair. She wore torn and muddy slacks and a white shirt that was almost see-through because of the water. She was wearing a pair of cross-trainers.

The little girl was limp in her arms. Her pajamas were soaked through, and her bare foot was bruised and cut.

Is she hurt? Tye asked.

I don’t think so. There’re no marks on her other than her foot.

Are you her mother?

No. I’m Kaity, her librarian, she said as if that explained anything. This is Natalie.

He figured explanations could wait. There was a hooded sweatshirt lashed to the bottom of his pack. He held it out to her.

Here, put this on. It’s a little wet, but it’s synthetic, so it will still keep you warm.

He unzipped his jacket and held out his arms.

Kaity passed the little girl to him. He held her against his chest and tried to wrap the jacket around her as best he could. She was heavier than he expected.

Kaity pulled on the sweatshirt. I don’t think I’ve ever worn a camouflage article of clothing before.

Beggars can’t be choosers, he said. He nodded at the pack at his feet.

If you unzip that, you’ll find a space blanket near the top.

Space blanket? she asked as she knelt and unzipped the pack.

It’s silver, about the size of a deck of cards. Just tear the wrapper off.

Oh, that’s neat, she said as she unfolded the thin blanket. She helped him wrap it around Natalie. It was impervious to the rain and would help her maintain some warmth. She was breathing but unresponsive.

How long has she been like this? Tye asked.

Well, she ran all this way, then I found her collapsed on the ground. Is she hypothermic?

Dunno, he said. Let’s just get her out of here. We’re only a few minutes from the vehicles. There’s a spare flashlight in that bag. Can you carry it and your gym bag, too?

She nodded, and he set off without another word. The rain showed no sign of letting up soon. The forecast had called for a dry, warm day, but weather in the Pacific Northwest was unpredictable. Natalie was breathing and had a pulse. There was no sign of bleeding or injury, so he just wanted to get her out of this gully before it got darker and wetter.

How did you find us? Kaity asked from behind him.

I almost ran into your car. Then I followed your tracks. Seemed strange, a little girl running across the road in one boot, then you following.

You followed tracks in this? she asked, then he heard her gasp.

He turned around and looked. She was shining the flashlight at the ground.

What kind of footprint is this? Don’t tell me bigfoot. I don’t believe in that stuff.

Black bear, Tye said. I saw it a few minutes ago.

You SAW the bear?

Yeah. Don’t worry. It’s probably more afraid of us than we are of it.

I’m not sure that’s possible.

The bear helped me. The little voice came from under the space blanket. Tye stopped and pulled the blanket aside to find two big blue eyes looking at him from behind wet, matted hair.

Ow, Natalie said. That light hurts my eyes.

Sorry. He aimed the headlight away from her face. You said the bear helped you?

Yeah. She’s a good bear. I think my brothers watch you on TV…

Her eyelids fluttered, and her head slumped against his chest again.

Did she just say the bear helped her? Kaity asked.

Yep.

Are you really on TV?

Yep.

What’s your name?

Tye Caine. Talking about the reality TV show was one of Tye’s least favorite topics of conversation. Come on, we need to get going.

He started walking, hoping that would forestall any further conversation.

What’s the name of the TV Show?

Supermodel Survival.

Is that the one where they put the survival expert on the tropical island with a supermodel?

Yep.

I’ve never seen it, of course. I don’t watch things like that.

You haven’t missed much.

Thankfully, she let it go.

Soon they were at the top of the slope and they set Natalie in the passenger seat of Kaity’s car. She seemed more alert and looked around.

I’m freezing, she said.

Kaity started the engine.It’ll warm up quickly, she said. I’ll get you back to your mom.

With that, the little girl snuggled up in the seat and closed her eyes.

I’ll take her to her house, Kaity said. It’s only a few miles away. Here, your backpack.

She tried to shrug off his pack, but it got tangled in the straps of her gym bag. He helped her untangle everything.

What’s in there? He nodded at the gym bag.

Sweaty gym clothes, a half-eaten granola bar, and half a bottle of water.

Better than nothing, I guess. If you’re gonna drive around out here, you should get yourself a survival kit.

Duly noted. Thanks for your help.

You’re welcome, Tye said.

She gave him a little wave, pitched the gym bag in the back seat, and drove off.

Tye was halfway home before he realized she still had his sweatshirt and flashlight.

5

He drove upriver in the east fork of the Lewis River valley. The sun was set, and it was almost hard dark. He cut his speed a little, watching for deer on the side of the road. This time of night, they liked to come down out of the hills toward the river.

A familiar pain built behind his eyes, and a metallic taste filled his mouth. He tried to tell himself he was just tired and dehydrated, but he knew a migraine was coming on.

The left-hand turn was easy to miss. A paved driveway disappeared up the hill into the trees. The property was steep, with flat spots terraced into the hillside. A single-wide mobile home that had seen better days sat at the end of the driveway, and there were several sheds and other outbuildings scattered