The Vanishing Gary Brown (booksvooks TXT) 📖

down a little. I could have tripped back there and broken my neck. Meanwhile, you two are skipping through the woods like Bambi and Thumper.”

Earl Bentley winked at Claire, then looked at Martin. “You sure you can handle this, sonny?” The old man chuckled to himself, then turned and marched up the slope with the self-assurance of a seasoned foot soldier. Claire followed.

“Don’t worry about me,” Martin replied as he dusted off the seat of his pants. “I can manage just fine.”

54

NEGOTIATING THE FOREST proved to be an arduous task. Martin and Claire followed closely on the footsteps of the old trucker as he traversed blankets of fallen branches and slippery moss-covered rocks, stopping periodically to break a low-hanging twig or pick a flower from the ground and place it in the middle of the path.

“These are trail markers,” Earl explained. “Remember to look over your shoulder when you set them so you know what the path looks like on the way out. And count your way from marker to marker. I’m puttin’ one every ten paces. They’ll help you find your way back if you get lost or confused. Just turn around and walk straight back. No dilly-dallyin’ or veering off the path. And pick yourself up a good, sturdy branch when ya see one. Makes a great cane if you should trip and hurt yourself, or worse yet, break somethin’.”

“One thing’s for certain,” Martin commented. “No one takes this route if they don’t know where they’re going.”

“Damn right,” Earl Bentley agreed. “I didn’t see any other markers on our way in. The fella you’re lookin’ for knows these woods as well as I do, maybe better. Let’s just hope he’s not one of those marijuana pot-growin’ drug dealer types. They’ll shoot you sure as look at you if they find you in their patch.”

The old man stopped suddenly, looked down at Maggy, then back at Martin and Claire.

“Wait a minute. Your dog… she’s one of them drug dogs, ain’t she? That’s why she responds to you the way she does. She’s lookin’ for pot plants.” The old man leaned against the trunk of a tree. “That’s why you’re after this guy. He’s a drug dealer. And that would make you federal agents, right? And you’re not his wife. You’re his partner!” The old man slapped his baseball cap against his leg as though he had suddenly discovered a closely guarded secret. “Well, I’ll be snookered!” he said with a wide smile. “I ain’t never met any FBI agents before.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Earl,” Martin said. “Like I said, we’re not with the police. Besides, if it were a grow operation we were after, we’d be ATF, not FBI.”

“Well, if you’re not the feds, then just who are you? And why is this guy so important you’re carrying around a file on him?”

Claire walked to the tree against which Earl Bentley stood, snapped a small branch, and bent it down, marking the path.

“You’re right, Earl,” Claire said. “I suppose you should know who we are and why we’re looking for this man. But what I’m about to tell you can’t be repeated, not to anyone. Do I have your word on that?”

“Yes, ma’am, as a gentleman and a former officer of the law. You can trust me.”

“I believe I can.”

“That might not be such a good idea, Claire,” Martin warned.

Earl Bentley slipped his cap back on his head. “It’s up to you whether you want to tell me or not, little lady. I gave you my word. Can’t do much more than that. Besides, I did what I came out here to do. You just keep markin’ the path the way as I showed ya and you’ll be fine. You’ll find your way back out, no problem.” The old man sighed. “Well, I’ve got a sixty-thousand-dollar rig sittin’ back there, and up until an hour ago that was all that mattered to me, next to my wife and her peach cobbler. So, if you’ve got no further use for me, I’d best be on my way.”

The old man walked past them down the path.

“We think he and another man could be responsible for the disappearance of my sister,” Claire blurted out.

Earl Bentley stopped in his tracks, turned slowly. “Disappearance, as in kidnapped?”

“Possibly, yes,” Martin interjected. “If the man you gave the ride to is the same one we’re looking for and he’s hunkered down somewhere out here in these woods, then I guess your knowledge of the area and ability to track him makes you our best chance of finding out exactly where he’s holding up.”

“Remember the picture we showed you?” Claire added.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bentley replied.

“He and another man are responsible for the deaths of hundreds of innocent people,” Claire said. “We need to find out whether my sister is with them. And if she isn’t, what they may have done with her.”

Earl Bentley stood silently, then addressed Martin. “You said you weren’t with the police, yet you’re organized. Binoculars. Backpacks. Digital camcorder. I even saw what looked like a couple of bulletproof vests in the back of your truck. If you’re carrying those around, you’re probably also carrying the firepower to go with them. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Martin answered. “You’re right.”

“Then I’ll ask you again, and this time I want a straight answer. If you’re not the police, who are you?”

Claire answered. “Martin runs a private organization that is helping me find my sister, Mr. Bentley,” she said. “The police can’t help me, not even the FBI. They say there isn’t enough evidence to open an investigation. But we have proof. The girl in that photograph is my sister, Amanda. She’s the one we’re looking for. It was taken two weeks ago by one of Martin’s operatives at Sonoma State University. Two weeks ago! That means Amanda’s alive, and we think she’s somewhere in this area. This is the closest my family has come to finding her in seven years, and I wouldn’t be here if it