Aspen Allegations - A Sutton Massachusetts Mystery, Page 2

  * * *

  The police had come and gone, the medics had respectfully carried away the dead body, and the forest had eased into a dark blue twilight that resembled the depths of an ocean floor. Jason had remained at my side through it all. Now he stared with me down at the empty space at the base of the ravine. The scattering of witch hazel along the edges added a faint golden glisten to the scene.

  “But I didn’t hear a shot,” I stated finally, as if that made all the difference.

  He gave his head a short shake. “Mr. Popovich began his hunting back at dawn,” he pointed out. “The victim was apparently shot a few hours later. The body was long dead by the time you reached it. He was undoubtedly dead before you left your house to come here. The M.E. will let us know for sure.”

  “He looked asleep,” I continued. My thoughts were not quite coming in a coherent fashion.

  He hesitated for a moment, then put an arm around my shoulder to comfort me. “Can I take you home?”

  I shook my head. I was forty-three years old. Certainly old enough to be able to cope with this situation, as unusual as it was. And my home was a mere five-minute drive.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured him. But it was another long minute before I could pull my eyes from the spot and turn to navigate back around the fallen tree.

  “We may need to ask you follow-up questions in the coming days, as we pursue our investigation,” he murmured as we made our way up the trail.

  “Of course,” I agreed, my eyes taking in the forest around me as if it had recently sprung to life. Every twisted branch, every fluttering oak leaf clinging tenaciously to its tree sent a small surge of adrenaline through me. I wrapped my tangerine sarong even closer around my shoulders.

  Worry creased Jason’s eyes, and he ran a hand through his chestnut-brown hair. I wondered for a moment where his biking helmet had gone, and then remembered the police taking it and his bike back with them at his request.

  A strange sense of loss nestled in my heart; I spoke to shake it loose. “I’m sorry to have kept you behind with me.”

  “Not at all,” he demurred with understanding in his eyes. “I was happy to stay.”

  I lapsed into silence again, absorbed in the soft crunch of leaves beneath my feet, in the soft whistling of the dusk breeze as it scattered through birch and aspen. Jason was steady at my side. My shoulders slowly eased as we walked along the trail.

  At last the trail widened before us. I’d never seen the vehicle gate at the mouth standing open, and it brought into focus again just what had happened here. I stared at it for a long moment before bringing my eyes up to the two cars standing side by side, his white F-150, my dark-green Forester.

  He fished in a side pocket and brought out a card. “If you need anything – anything at all – you just call,” he offered, and his eyes were warm as he handed the card to me.

  I nodded, turned, and then I was back in the safety of my car, driving toward the security of home.