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    Swope's Ridge
    Swope's Ridge
    Swope's Ridge
    Ebook420 pages6 hours

    Swope's Ridge

    By Ace Collins

    4.5/5

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    September 12, 2001. Four members of the Klasser family are found dead outside Dallas, Texas. In the wake of 9/11, the Klassers’ neighbor, Omar Jones—an American citizen of Arab descent—is convicted of their murder. A month before Jones’ execution, attorney Lije Evans searches for evidence that will prove the man innocent. But Evans’ quest goes deeper than solving one crime. He is determined to find the secret behind the dark history of sleepy Swope’s Ridge—and how it ties into his wife’s murder. Interlocking mysteries lead Evans and his team to the battlegrounds of former Nazi Germany, the dirt roads of Kansas, and a rusty cargo ship in the Gulf of Mexico. Along the way, they discover a secret that offers the promise of great power—and the greatest temptation they’ve ever faced. In the second book of the Lije Evans Mysteries series, bestselling author Ace Collins immerses readers in an intricate and deadly international plot. Racism, betrayal, and death-defying escapes compound an adventure that knows no bounds in this harrowing novel for suspense lovers everywhere.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherZondervan
    Release dateDec 15, 2009
    ISBN9780310865551
    Author

    Ace Collins

    Ace Collins is the writer of more than sixty books, including several bestsellers: Stories behind the Best-Loved Songs of Christmas, Stories behind the Great Traditions of Christmas, The Cathedrals, and Lassie: A Dog’s Life. Based in Arkadelphia, Arkansas, He continues to publish several new titles each year, including a series of novels, the first of which is Farraday Road. Ace has appeared on scores of television shows, including CBS This Morning, NBC Nightly News, CNN, Good Morning America, MSNBC, and Entertainment Tonight.

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    Reviews for Swope's Ridge

    4.5/5

    8 ratings3 reviews

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    • 4/5
      Ace Collins is at the top of my list for suspense authors. I read Farrraday Road a few years back and loved it. It ended with a BIG cliffhanger and begged me to go on to Swope’s Ridge. Well, I finally dug into book 2 via Audible. Its fast-paced, twisting and turning plot didn’t let me down. So my recommendation to you is get both titles and prepare yourself for some page-turning reading.Swope’s Ridge opens with the closing action of Farraday Road. Lije Evans and his associates are still in danger from those who killed his wife. But the Nazi-era mystery exposed in book 1 gives way to a 9/11 terrorism case. How can a dead SS officer and a death row inmate possibly be connected? With clues pointing to the existence of a legendary Ark of Death, Lije and his team work to solve the case before more innocent lives are lost.Lije Evans is an interesting character. A small-town lawyer still grieving his wife’s death and in way over his head against powerful, unknown forces, he is determined to discover the reasons surrounding the inexplicable events that have impacted his life. With a shaky faith, Lije continues on despite threats and tragedy because the truth is so important. Lije struggles with the hidden plans and purposes of God – don’t we all — making him a relatable character. The ensemble cast in Swope’s Ridge is strong, and the reader may have a hard time discerning just who the good guys are. The plot is complex and certainly suspenseful, leaving this reader just as mystified as Lije. But all comes together in a satisfying ending. The Nazi-era history was interesting and cleverly tied into the modern-day action.I read the audiobook version of Swope’s Ridge. The narrator did a good job with pacing and voices.A great conclusion to the two-book series, Swope’s Ridge is definitely a recommended read.Recommended.Audience: adults.
    • 5/5
      From the back of the book:September 12, 2001. Four members of the Klasser family are found dead outside Dallas, Texas. In the wake of 9/11, the Klassers’ neighbor, Omar Jones—an American citizen of Arab descent—is convicted of their murder.A month before Jones’ execution, attorney Lije Evans searches for evidence that will prove the man innocent. But Evans’ quest goes deeper than solving one crime. He is determined to find the secret behind the dark history of sleepy Swope’s Ridge—and how it ties into his wife’s murder.Interlocking mysteries lead Evans and his team to the battlegrounds of former Nazi Germany, the dirt roads of Kansas, and a rusty cargo ship in the Gulf of Mexico. Along the way, they discover a secret that offers the promise of great power—and the greatest temptation they’ve ever faced.In the second book of the Lije Evans Mysteries series, bestselling author Ace Collins immerses readers in an intricate and deadly international plot. Racism, betrayal, and death-defying escapes compound an adventure that knows no bounds in this harrowing novel for suspense lovers everywhere.My Review:Swope’s Ridge is a fast-paced mystery loaded with political intrigue. The main characters are likeable and interesting. I do wish I had read Farraday Road, the first of the “Lije Evans Mysteries”, before I read this one. Still, it was an interesting and entertaining mystery, and I will catch up with the first one next. I enjoyed that the characters considered matters of faith openly and with honest feelings that many people experience especially after the loss of a loved one. The mystery behind a piece of property spans all the way to Germany and involve events in the past. It is all brought together to a tidy conclusion. Look for the next Lije Evans Mystery to come.
    • 4/5
      Swope’s Ridge, by Ace Collins, is second in the Lije Evan Mysteries series, following closely on the end of Farraday Road. It opens, rather like many TV series, with a “Previously in the Lije Evans Mysteries Series” page which sets a scene for what must surely have been a cliff-hanger ending in book one (though, not having read it, I’m uncertain whether the fateful shot rang out before or after the last page was turned). I felt slightly uncomfortable starting to read in the middle of a story, though the first scene, where an Arab American is arrested as a terrorist, certainly grabbed my attention, turning it well away from any thoughts of what I might have missed. Chapter ten brings the reader back to the fate of the erstwhile terrorist, now in jail awaiting execution, and at this point in the book I found myself hooked. While I, and the characters, would have liked to believe in Omar’s innocence, the evidence certainly seemed compelling. But leads are followed and the reader becomes suspicious of the truth just as Lije and his colleagues make their guesses. The racial profiling and easily excited fears of post 9-11 are well-depicted, with citizens and newspapers rallying against the lawyer who might dare “defend” a convicted terrorist. Characters from as far apart as Britain, Germany, Mexico and the Middle East bring their own thoughts to bear, and the story ends in a race against time to save far more lives than one. There’s a thread of faith in this book that’s nicely done, and very wisely not overdone. The reader is invited to question the characters' beliefs and motivations, but the author never threatens to preach. I found the story surprisingly satisfying, and despite my initial misgivings will hope to read Farraday Road as well some day. Lije Evans and friends are an interesting and enterprising group to read about.

    Book preview

    Swope's Ridge - Ace Collins

    Other Books in the Lije Evans Mysteries Series

    Farraday Road (Book 1)

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    ZONDERVAN

    Swope’s Ridge

    Copyright © 2009 by Andrew Collins

    All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Zondervan.

    ePub Edition October 2009 ISBN: 978-0-310-86555-1

    This title is also available in a Zondervan audio edition.

    Visit www.zondervan.fm.

    Requests for information should be addressed to:

    Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530

    Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

    Collins, Ace.

    Swope’s Ridge / Ace Collins.

    p.   cm.—(Lije Evans mysteries)

    ISBN  978-0-310-27953-2 (pbk.)

    1. Lawyers—Fiction. 2. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. I. Title.

    PS3553.O47475S96 2009

    813’.54—dc22                                                                             2009018441

    Scriptures are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

    Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers printed in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

    Interior design by Christine Orejuela-Winkelman

    Table of Contents

    Title Page

    Copyright Page

    Chapter One

    Chapter Two

    Chapter Three

    Chapter Four

    Chapter Five

    Chapter Six

    Chapter Seven

    Chapter Eight

    Chapter Nine

    Chapter Ten

    Chapter Eleven

    Chapter Twelve

    Chapter Thirteen

    Chapter Fourteen

    Chapter Fifteen

    Chapter Sixteen

    Chapter Seventeen

    Chapter Eighteen

    Chapter Nineteen

    Chapter Twenty

    Chapter Twenty One

    Chapter Twenty Two

    Chapter Twenty Three

    Chapter Twenty Four

    Chapter Twenty Five

    Chapter Twenty Six

    Chapter Twenty Seven

    Chapter Twenty Eight

    Chapter Twenty Nine

    Chapter Thirty

    Chapter Thirty One

    Chapter Thirty Two

    Chapter Thirty Three

    Chapter Thirty Four

    Chapter Thirty Five

    Chapter Thirty Six

    Chapter Thirty Seven

    Chapter Thirty Eight

    Chapter Thirty Nine

    Chapter Forty

    Chapter Forty One

    Chapter Forty Two

    Chapter Forty Three

    Chapter Forty Four

    Chapter Forty Five

    Chapter Forty Six

    Chapter Forty Seven

    Chapter Forty Eight

    Chapter Forty Nine

    Chapter Fifty

    Chapter Fifty One

    Chapter Fifty Two

    Chapter Fifty Three

    Chapter Fifty Four

    Chapter Fifty Five

    Chapter Fifty Six

    Chapter Fifty Seven

    Chapter Fifty Eight

    Chapter Fifty Nine

    Chapter Sixty

    Chapter Sixty One

    Chapter Sixty Two

    Chapter Sixty Three

    Chapter Sixty Four

    Chapter Sixty Five

    Chapter Sixty Six

    Chapter Sixty Seven

    Chapter Sixty Eight

    Chapter Sixty Nine

    Chapter Seventy

    Chapter Seventy One

    Chapter Seventy Two

    Chapter Seventy Three

    Chapter Seventy Four

    Chapter Seventy Five

    Chapter Seventy Six

    Chapter Seventy Seven

    Chapter Seventy Eight

    Chapter Seventy Nine

    About the Publisher

    Share Your Thoughts

    To Shalee,

    whose life is a model for us all

    Previously in the Lije Evans Mysteries Series

    On a cold June night, in the pouring rain, small-town lawyer Elijah Evans and his wife, Kaitlyn, are found brutally murdered on Farraday Road. By some miracle, however, Lije Evans is revived and saved; when he wakes up in the hospital and learns of his wife’s murder, he vows to find her killer.

    His only lead is a piece of property Kaitlyn had purchased only days before the tragic incident: mysterious and beautiful Swope’s Ridge, upon which sits a cold and lonely fortress built by a German recluse in the post—World War II era. As Lije investigates the history of this land, he discovers that its past is bathed in obsession and blood.

    Lije teams up with Diana Curtis, an agent with the Arkansas Bureau of Investigation, and in the resulting journey they find an innocent man sitting on death row, a corrupt ABI director, and a legend hidden deep within the dirt on Swope’s Ridge. And through it all, the murderers watch their every move, until finally Lije faces them down.

    Escaping with their lives but with little more information than they had when they started, Lije, Diana, and his associates, Heather and Janie, find themselves inside the stark fortress on Swope’s Ridge, staring at Lije’s great-aunt’s high school yearbook, which they found hidden in the house. The mystery turns out to be deeper and more complicated than anyone had imagined.

    As they leave the fortress to investigate more, shots ring out from the logging road on Swope’s Ridge.

    1

    October 11, 2001

    Waxahachie, Texas

    IT WAS JUST PAST EIGHT AND, AS USUAL, OMAR Jones was running late. As he glanced at the clock, the twenty-eight-year-old computer programmer picked up a half-filled cup of coffee and splashed a last lukewarm gulp down his throat. He heard Charlie Gibson on Good Morning America voicing yet another story on the attacks in New York and Washington. Had it already been a month? He still couldn’t begin to fathom how anyone could fly a jetliner into the World Trade Center towers or the Pentagon. Why would anyone become a terrorist? Why would anyone choose to die like that?

    Jones switched off the TV and set down his coffee. He had thirty minutes to get to work, and traffic was sure to be snarled due to construction around Desoto. Hurrying toward the door, he stopped in front of a mirror to make sure his coal-black hair was neatly combed and his thick mustache showed no sign of the oatmeal he had just eaten. Satisfied, he pushed open the side door of his modest three-bedroom track home.

    The scene that met him in the carport nearly caused his heart to stop. There, no more than ten feet in front of him, stood a police officer pointing a gun at his chest, with a dozen other officers—all heavily armed with weapons aimed and ready—spread out behind him.

    Omar Saddam Jones? A man in a black suit stepped toward him.

    Unable to manage a verbal response, Jones simply nodded.

    Put your hands on top of your head. Now.

    Jones quickly did as he was told.

    Three men rushed up behind him, forcefully pulled his arms behind his back, slapped a pair of cuffs around his wrists, and patted him down. Then he was pushed twenty feet toward a squad car. Only then did Jones speak.

    What’s this about? His voice sounded almost childlike to his ears. You must have the wrong guy. I’ve done nothing!

    A large man in a dark suit walked to the car, leaned over, and said, You know the Klasser family.

    Jones nodded. Sure, they’re my neighbors.

    "They were your neighbors, the man said. Someone killed them. A month ago. Even the baby was murdered. Where have you been?"

    Albert Klasser wasn’t just his neighbor; he was a good friend. They played softball on the same city team. Emily was the ideal wife. She made chocolate-drop cookies for the neighbors. And the kids…Jacob…Sarah…They were dead? The Klassers? he whispered.

    Jones, I’m Adam Horne, Federal Bureau of Investigation. The tall, balding man showed Omar his identification, then looked around for another agent. Take him downtown.

    The interrogation room was stark, just like the ones Omar had seen so many times on television. He’d been waiting alone for a half hour. His palms were sweating. He needed to call his boss.

    The door opened and in walked Agent Horne, a thick manila file folder in his hand. The man sat down across the table from Jones and opened the file. He rifled through a few sheets of paper until he came to a specific report.

    Jones, we have a witness who saw you come out of the Klasser home on the evening of September 10.

    Omar had been gone a month. The tenth had been the night before he left on vacation. He’d arrived home late because he stopped to buy a few last-minute things for his trip to hike a section of the Appalachian Trail. A new sleeping bag and a rain poncho.

    I got home late, he said. He hadn’t seen anyone. This was all a horrible mistake. But he had to keep his wits and think straight.

    What time did you get home? Horne asked.

    I don’t know. About eleven.

    Was anyone with you? Anyone see you?

    No. I live alone. But I bought some stuff at the mall.

    Then you have receipts, Horne said.

    Panic set in. Jones hadn’t used a credit card or written a check; he had used cash. He’d thrown away the receipt that first night on the trail.

    He had grabbed a bite at a Burger King, but had used the drive-through. It had been so long ago, no one would remember him.

    He’d killed some time watching kids playing football in a park in Red Oak, but he’d never gotten out of his car. No one had seen him there either.

    No one had called him on his cell phone and he hadn’t made any calls. He couldn’t prove where he’d been.

    No, I paid cash, Jones said. I didn’t get home until almost midnight. I left before five the next morning. This is all a mistake. I love the Klassers like family!

    The agent turned over a few more pages in the file. Do you know Martin de la Cruz?

    Yes, he lives down the street.

    Mr. de la Cruz told us that he spoke to you at eight on the night of the tenth. That you talked for about five minutes right in front of the Klasser home. He saw you come out the side door of that house. Do you remember he asked what you were doing?

    No, it wasn’t me.

    Horne ignored Omar’s denial. And you told him you’d been arguing with Mr. Klasser over religion.

    How could that be? He hadn’t seen Martin when he got home that night. He hadn’t seen anyone. Why was Martin lying? Why would he lie about anything?

    The man waited for an answer, then said, Where were you born?

    Suddenly everything became clear. Jones knew why he’d been arrested. On September 11 the whole world changed. When those planes flew into the towers, Omar Jones had been transformed from a naturalized citizen and college graduate with ten years in the workforce into an enemy of the state. It didn’t matter that he’d come to the United States at the age of sixteen months. It didn’t matter that he’d been adopted by Americans. It didn’t matter that he’d been raised as a Christian or that he’d been an honors student and had a master’s degree.

    The only thing that mattered now was that he’d been born in Baghdad, in Iraq. On September 11 his Arab roots, his birthplace, had put a target squarely in the middle of his forehead.

    Where were you born? Horne asked again.

    Jones shook his head. You know the answer.

    And you knew the Klassers were Jewish.

    Jones nodded.

    And that Albert Klasser worked for the Federal Aviation Administration.

    With that final link, Omar felt as though he’d fallen into a hole so deep there was no light. Truth no longer mattered. He had been born to a Muslim woman. Even though he’d been adopted by Christians, they saw him as a Muslim who lived next door to a Jewish man who worked for the agency that oversaw the aviation industry.

    One final question from the imposing agent removed all hope.

    Jones, can you explain why your DNA and fingerprints were found at the crime scene?

    Omar Jones stared at the floor. Being late for work no longer mattered. Nothing did. His life as an American was over.

    They believed he was a terrorist.

    2

    LIJE EVANS SAW THE HAND-HEWN BOARD OF THE doorframe crack a split second before he heard the thunk.

    The shot, fired from a rarely used logging road that ran along the highest point of Swope’s Ridge, barely missed Diana Curtis as she started out the door with Lije right behind her. They both plunged back into the safety of the old house and slammed the door.

    That was close, Curtis said.

    You okay? he asked.

    Fine.

    They waited a few moments in silence, ears straining for any noise. Nothing.

    Lije moved back toward the door and opened it just a crack. The shot had splintered the rock-hard wood harvested generations before in the Bavarian Black Forest. The home had been built like a fortress in the late 1940s by a German soldier. To Lije it felt as if World War III had started here in Arkansas, on a hillside called Swope’s Ridge.

    Think he’s gone? he asked.

    Curtis, a former agent for the Arkansas Bureau of Investigation, crawled to the door and looked up toward the top of the ridge. Another blast put a second hole in the doorframe. Curtis dove back as the sound of the shot echoed through the hills.

    He’s still there. That shot was no accident.

    They knew the shooter hadn’t meant it as a warning. Whoever had pulled the trigger had a clear target lined up in the gunsight. If her head had been raised just a little more…

    They waited and listened. Nothing. Then the sound of a car starting up and wheeling away.

    He just drove off, or he might be moving to a better spot. We’re still pinned down.

    He could still be watching us, Lije said. Still waiting to make his move.

    She nodded.

    We’re trapped, he said.

    He finally took the time to check on his legal assistant, Janie Davies, who exhibited her normal calm, and his partner, Heather Jameson, who cowered in a far corner behind an overstuffed chair.

    We’re trapped but safe, Janie said. That door’s the only way into this place, and if he tries to come through it, Diana’s gun will no doubt provide a welcoming note. So we’re safe—really safe. After what we’ve been through, that’s a lot to be thankful for.

    As always, Janie provided wisdom in a moment of chaos. The Ozark foothills were littered with boulders, but none were more solid than this diminutive blonde whose blindness had tightly honed her other senses. She had a vision he lacked and a logical steadiness in the midst of calamity. If she wasn’t an angel, she would surely make a good prototype for one.

    Janie’s right, Lije said. We’re safe as long as we stay in the house. Nothing’s going to happen to any of us while we’re inside.

    Heather nodded but pushed deeper into her spot behind the chair, like a rabbit hiding from a wolf. She would’ve likely pushed into the thick wall if that had been possible.

    Lije couldn’t predict what would happen next. That was entirely up to whoever had fired the rifle. Knowing they couldn’t dictate the person’s actions, they all looked toward the door and listened intently for signs of an approaching gunman. All they heard was the symphony of the majestic rushing water of Spring River as it cut its way through the foothills, and the rustling of leaves on the tall trees surrounding the six-decades-old structure. These sounds framed the moment with an aura of peace.

    Lije was ready for a showdown. He glanced over at Curtis, who fingered the grip of the nine millimeter she had pulled from her purse. It looked as though she was itching to charge out into the sunlight and take on the assassin who had nearly ended her life. But she waited, perhaps convinced Janie was right. The German’s stuffy home offered sure protection against a foe carrying a lethal weapon.

    The minutes dragged by as they each held their positions. No one spoke. Then, silently, Janie got up and walked toward the door. For a moment he considered pulling her back down to the floor. But in her uncanny way, she avoided any position where she could be seen from outside. Could she sense the sunlight pouring through the partly open doorway, or was it the slight breeze that led her?

    He watched as she continued to move. When she drew near the front wall, she reached out and touched the door’s thick frame. Her left hand lingered there for a few seconds, then she made a slow pirouette and rested her back against the wall. She stood unmoving, her toned body relaxed but her face showing obvious signs of concentration. What was she doing? What did she perceive that he could not?

    She’d moved to the door to better hear the outside world. She’d know long before any of the rest of them if someone was approaching. In a strange way, the blind woman had become the lookout.

    A car’s coming through the gate. Janie turned her head in Lije’s direction.

    Are you sure? He picked up a loose brick he’d pried out of the wall a few weeks ago.

    Yes, it’s moving slowly, but it’s heading this way.

    Another minute passed before he heard it. He squeezed the brick, then got down on his hands and knees and crawled over to the door. The home’s native stone floor felt cool.

    What do you think, Diana? he whispered. Who is it?

    The former ABI agent shook her head. I don’t know.

    Curtis was a solid CSI type. Lije knew that from watching her work. She had investigative skills he deeply respected.

    It’s not the same car that’s coming now, Janie whispered. Not the one that drove off on the ridge.

    You sure?

    The one we heard after the shots had a distinctive squeak, like a spring was broken. This one doesn’t. And driving up here on that bumpy, rocky driveway would make that squeak even more pronounced. I guarantee it’s not the same car.

    Lije hadn’t noticed any squeak, just the sound of a car driving off. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked at Diana. She shrugged. She’d missed it too.

    So if this wasn’t the guy who’d just shot at Diana, who was it? Who would be coming to this spot, so secluded that cell phones couldn’t find a signal?

    Still clutching the brick, Lije moved to the edge of the door and peered through the narrow opening. A postcard-like scene displayed the awesome majesty of the unspoiled Ozarks. Two robins flew overhead, and a squirrel raced up the trunk of a tree. A nervous turkey scurried between rows of blackberry bushes. Nothing in his field of vision was unusual. In fact, this was as close to peace on earth as he could imagine.

    Though he still couldn’t see the approaching vehicle, like Janie he now could hear the sound of a motor moving closer. Would there be a violent confrontation, a life-and-death struggle in this remote, idyllic setting?

    Get ready, Janie whispered. He just parked the car and turned off the motor.

    Curtis moved to Lije’s left side, lifted her gun, and aimed at the point where an intruder was most likely to approach their sanctuary. Lije felt a sense of extreme curiosity, as if this might be the most important moment in his life. Would he finally look the killer in the eye? Would he finally get answers to the nightmare that had started that fateful night on Farraday Road, the nightmare that had left his beloved Kaitlyn dead?

    Mentally voicing a quick and sincere prayer, Lije hefted his brick and readied himself for the fight Yes, it was time! It was long past time.

    He’s walking this way, Janie whispered. He’s alone.

    Lije nodded, then realized their alert sentry couldn’t hear the motion.

    Here he comes, Curtis whispered. I see his shadow.

    Lije glanced out and saw a silhouette floating over the windblown grass. It appeared to be a man. He had stopped moving.

    Time seemed to halt as surely as the intruder, now twenty feet outside their door. The clock wouldn’t start ticking again until the mystery man took his next step.

    3

    LIJE WAITED, HIS BODY TENSED, READY FOR ACTION, ready to lunge through the door. Janie touched his shoulder and kept him glued to his post. Patience, she seemed to tell him. Patience is what you must have now.

    Why didn’t the visitor move? Why didn’t he rush in and start shooting? As if in a bad dream, the shadow remained anchored. Lije couldn’t see the flesh-and-blood form of the man creating that shadow.

    Lije continued to stare at the dark, ill-defined figure, watching for any movement. His mind flashed back to a time when Kaitlyn had introduced him to MP3s of old radio dramas from the 1930s and 1940s. She’d had hundreds of them on her iPod and liked to listen to them as they traveled. She’d said classic radio programs made a long trip seem shorter.

    While she had loved Boston Blackie, Richard Diamond, The Lux Radio Theater, and The Whistler, her favorite program had starred Orson Welles. She often mimicked the great actor’s well-known line, Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!

    Kaitlyn would’ve seen the irony of this moment.

    There it was! Barely perceptible at first, but movement. The shadow took a cautious step forward. Another short step. Then another. From where he knelt, Lije could now see half of a dark-brown hiking boot. Whoever this was, he was prepared for the rugged terrain that covered so much of Swope’s Ridge. Did he know something they didn’t?

    Moving his attention from the boot to the shadow falling on the tall grass, Lije saw a hand move. It seemed to linger at the man’s side for a moment before pulling something from the pocket of his pants. The man took that unknown object and aimed it. What was it? Lije tensed even more. Curtis slid her left hand to the screen door. She was ready to shove it open and fire. But she held back, perhaps waiting for one more step by the intruder.

    Lije heard a faint sound. It stopped. Then another soft burst. The sound was familiar, but what? He glanced over at Curtis. Shaking her head, she looked up at the woman leaning against the wall. Maybe the blind woman’s ears could somehow see what they could only hear. Maybe she could put a picture with the sound.

    He’s spraying something, Janie said. Her nose wrinkled as the breeze carried the scent into the room. It’s Off.

    What? Curtis said.

    Off. You know, the insect repellent.

    Janie had just finished her explanation when a deep voice hollered, Lije? You up here?

    The anxiety in the room evaporated. This wasn’t a gunman; it was a friend.

    It’s McGee, Curtis said, rolling from her belly onto her back and easing the gun to her side.

    Yep. Lije laughed. The Shadow knows.

    What? Janie asked.

    Not bothering to explain, Lije jumped to his feet, pushed open the screen door, and strode out into the sunlight. As he did, the state’s top defense attorney took a couple more steps forward, finally revealing himself to his host.

    Stopped by the house in Salem, McGee said. When I discovered you weren’t there and your assistant wasn’t home either, figured you were up here trying to find something new.

    Janie, Curtis, and Jameson emerged from the dungeon-like confines of the German’s home. McGee laughed, So you’ve got the whole Scooby Crew with you. What’s with the building material?

    Lije shrugged, dropped his brick to the ground. Somebody took two shots at this place a few minutes ago from higher up on the ridge. We thought you were the guy coming down to finish the job.

    McGee glanced over his shoulder to the spot where his friend was pointing. The old logging road?

    That’s right, Curtis said. One shot missed my head by an inch.

    McGee grimaced, suddenly serious. It’s anything but over, then.

    4

    KENT MCGEE LOOKED AT THE PHOTO OF THE BUS IN the old high school yearbook. So you think your great-aunt’s disappearance might be tied to something that happened on Swope’s Ridge? Imagine! When you consider everything else that’s supposedly tied to this place, this property could be the capital of Crime, U.S.A.

    Lije shrugged. Mabel Dean did claim it was cursed, and even though I don’t believe in that sort of thing, I can now see why she does. As for Aunt Josephine being tied to this place, well, it’s a long shot that I wouldn’t even consider if not for the fact the annual’s the only book in this house printed in the United States. I find that weird. Everything else came from Germany.

    He thought it strange that a man who had had no friends, welcomed no guests, and lived as a hermit for five decades would have latched onto and kept a high school annual. That had to mean something. It was time to be logical and work clues like a puzzle, fit pieces into place.

    Let me rephrase that, Lije said. "If you’re asking, ‘Did what happened to JoJo have anything to do with Kaitlyn’s death?’ I’d say not likely. But the pages in the yearbook where the bus appears show signs of having been looked at more than the others. And Schleter bought a bus to live in while he built this house. That one out in the brush could be the same one.

    Consider this: we’ve been through this house with a fine-toothed comb and have nothing to show for it besides the annual. Others have gone through this place, too, but it’s obvious nobody has looked inside the bus. Not us, not the ABI, and not the man who killed Kaitlyn. She was murdered right after she bought Swope’s Ridge from Mabel. There has to be a connection. If you can think of a better place to search than that bus…

    McGee grinned, turned, and strolled out the door of the old brick home. When Lije joined him, the criminal defense attorney was staring intently at the tangle of vines and underbrush all but hiding the transportation relic from a very different age.

    It’s going to be a challenge just to hack our way in, Lije noted.

    Couldn’t we just pay someone to do it? McGee suggested. I’m into sports, not yard work.

    Lije slapped his friend on the back. No, we can’t and you know why. And don’t worry, I’ve got a chain saw. Besides, you’re dressed for the job. It won’t be nearly as much work as you think. It’ll be good for you. Looks to me like you’ve put on a few pounds, old friend.

    I should’ve stayed in Little Rock, McGee moaned. I’m going to need a lot more Off before this day is finished. And… He patted his stomach. I weigh the same as I did in college.

    Yeah, Lije said. That statement proves some lawyers lie. Now come on, Kent, let’s get the tools and get to work. That old relic might have the answer to Kaitlyn’s murder. And knowing you, I’m sure you want to find it almost as much as I do.

    Probably snakes too. I don’t like snakes. And you’re an attorney, so no more lawyer jokes.

    The two men turned toward Lije’s SUV to get the tools just as Curtis came out of the house.

    Listen, guys, Curtis said with an air of authority. Don’t you think we need to let the law in on the fact that someone took a shot at me? This is the kind of thing the police like to investigate.

    As Lije lifted the chain saw from the floor of the SUV, he wondered why she would want to report it and have police crawling all over the place, especially her old boss. He didn’t trust the ABI director. Barton Hillman had done nothing to help find Kaitlyn’s killer. He’d even let an innocent man die on death row—a memory that still haunted Lije. Whose side was Diana on? She had quit the ABI, but now she wanted to drag back in the same people who had screwed them up just a few months ago?

    Lije clenched his jaw. Why? All the locals would do is look around, then bring in the ABI. That’d mean Hillman would be back up here. Do you want him here? Or do you want out? You know what I think.

    But there’s a killer out there, she argued.

    He knew he couldn’t stop her from calling the authorities, but that wasn’t the test he had just presented. He had to see where her loyalties lay. Was she with him or was she still part of the old ABI mentality that had crippled the investigation of Farraday Road? That had let Kaitlyn’s killer escape. He waited for her response.

    Her eyes avoided his. I don’t know, Curtis said. It could be Smith.

    Could be, Lije shot back. Maybe he’s after you now, but don’t forget he killed my wife.

    Curtis hooked her thumbs in her jeans pockets and looked down at the ground. With the toe of her boot, she drew a small circle in the red dirt. Okay, I’ll play it your way, but we still need to check the spot where the shots were fired. So, if you don’t mind… She offered a slight grin. I’m going up to the logging road and see what I can find.

    Good idea. That’s why you’re needed. You’ve got skills we can’t begin to touch. We’ll be here when you finish.

    Pulling her keys from her purse, she walked over to her Ford Focus and got in.

    Be careful, McGee yelled as she started the car.

    Lije watched as she drove out of the gate and over the ridge. He felt uneasy.

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