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Chapter 6

The downtown area of Pine Mountain, West Virginia resembled many of the other small towns in Appalacia. Shabby brick buildings and Victorian era homes in various grades of upkeep lined the narrow streets, some of which had only recently been upgraded from brick or stone to asphalt. Many of the buildings had “For Lease” signs in empty shop windows. It was a dying town, a far cry from the days when coal mining and steel were actually worth something and the area had prospered. Now there was nothing to encourage the descendants of those coal miners and steel workers to remain. Amelia Harding had stayed, still dreaming of a chance to make it in the big city, but practical enough to know that at 35, the chance of being recruited into a metropolitan police force was slim. She gazed out the window of the sheriff’s office, taking a break from the exciting work of filing the past week’s traffic violations. She listened to her boss, Jacob Darrow, stomp around in his office, speaking loudly on the phone to one of his buddies about their upcoming fishing trip. As she surveyed the nearly deserted street, a VW Minibus that had obviously seen better days stopped in front of the building. The bus backed up, and then pulled into one of the parking spaces. The door opened and a tall, slim man stepped out. He had long graying brown hair, parted in the middle and twisted into two braids, and wore a folded bandana tied around his head in a band. His boots, jeans, tie-dyed t-shirt and vest all looked as though they had been rejected from the Salvation Army donation center. To complete the outfit, he wore sunglasses with small round frames and a rawhide necklace with beads. Amelia stared as he walked toward the door with a jaunty step. This was absolutely the last thing she needed, to deal with some aging hippy tourist who had gotten his dumb ass lost in the “wilds” of southern West Virginia. The man opened the door and stepped into the sheriff’s office.

“Good morning, ma’am. I was wondering if maybe you could help me?” His heavy Boston accent grated on Amelia’s nerves.

“Go back out the way you came, turn right, follow that road three miles, turn left, and you should reach the Interstate after about 25 miles.” Amelia hoped to get rid of him quickly before Jake came out and caused a scene.

“Well, uh, thank you, but that wasn’t what I was asking. This is Pine Mountain, isn’t it?”

“Says so on the sign you passed on the way into town.”

“Ah, yes, yes it did. Anyway, I have an old college buddy whom I lost touch with many years ago, but I believe still lives here. I was passing through, remembered that he lived in this area, and thought I’d stop by. Unfortunately I’ve lost his address. I understand in small towns like these, everyone knows everyone, so I was hoping you could help me find him.”

“What’s his name?

“Isaac Eastman.”

Amelia froze. She really didn’t want to have to explain this to a complete stranger. The man looked at her questioningly, and tried again.

“His wife’s name is Marie. They have six children...”

At that moment, the door to Darrow’s office opened and he stomped out. The stranger looked startled, and Amelia couldn’t blame him. Darrow’s friends, with rare wit, had nicknamed him “Tiny”. He was, without a doubt, the largest man Amelia had ever seen: well over 6 1/2 feet tall, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. She suspected that the main reason he was such an effective sheriff was that no one would dare cross him. Darrow glared at the stranger, and asked in his booming voice, “What the hell do you want?”

Tact had never been Tiny’s strong point, and he absolutely hated what he referred to as “those damn hippy-commies”, which in his lexicon meant practically anyone who wasn’t a local.

The stranger looked faint. He glanced towards the door and back at Darrow. Amelia decided to speak for him.

“He’s looking for an old friend that he lost touch with several years ago.”

“And who might that be?”

“Isaac Eastman.”

“Never heard of him.” Amelia looked at Darrow, not quite sure she had heard correctly.

“I was quite sure he lived here. Although in 12 years, he could have moved...”

“Oh, yes, now I remember. You’re really not good at keeping in touch with your ‘friends’, are you?”

“How do you mean?”

“Eastman’s dead. Him and his whole family.”

The stranger turned pale under his tan. “What...what happened? Was it an accident? A fire?”

“The youngest kid went nuts and killed them all.” Darrow paused. “Sorry you had to find out like this.” He didn’t look all that sorry to Amelia.

The stranger looked absolutely horrified. Amelia felt genuinely sorry for him. Darrow was such an insensitive jerk.

“Well, I...” The man’s voice quavered. “Uh, thank you for your help.” His hands shook as he reached for the door. Darrow turned, stomped back into his office, and slammed the door so hard the walls shook. Amelia glared at the office door, and then turned back towards the stranger.

“Are you OK?”

“I...I think so. I just can’t believe it. They were such a wonderful family. It makes no sense.” He opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight, closing the door carefully behind him. Amelia watched as he slowly walked to the Minibus. She turned and walked towards Darrow’s office. He opened the door just as she was about to knock.

“Don’t you have tickets to write?” he asked.

Amelia sighed. “I was just letting you know I was heading out on patrol.”

“Fine.” He slammed the door again. Amelia gathered her keys and ticket book from her desk. She walked to her cruiser, and looked around for the stranger’s Minibus. It was gone, but she was pretty sure she knew where it was going.



After Amelia had left, Darrow went to a large hunting print he had hanging on the wall of his office and lifted it off the hook. Behind the picture was a fire-proof safe that only he knew existed. He opened the safe and removed a small stack of photos, images which, if made public, would not only end his career but would also land him in prison. He had no idea who had taken them, but person had one goal in mind: to ensure Darrow’s silence. The subject on which he was to remain silent was written on the back of the first photo. It simply read:

“The Eastman Case is Closed.”

Darrow was going to make sure it stayed that way.



Three miles outside of town, the VW Minibus made a left turn onto county highway 36 and headed for the Interstate. The driver kept his eyes straight ahead, but his thoughts were on the conversation he had just had in town.

“Not the most pleasant person in the world, is he?” Glinn asked.

“No, he wasn’t. He was even worse than when I spoke with him 12 years ago. He was tactless, but not completely rude”, replied Pendergast.

“He seems quite defensive about a case that was so ‘open and shut’.”

“Indeed.”

“I do believe you might yet obtain some more information on the case.”

Pendergast looked in the review view mirror in order to see Glinn’s expression. He was seated in his chair in the back of the bus, out of sight from the casual observer.

“Oh?”

“Yes. In fact, it is closing in on us as we speak.” Suddenly Pendergast heard a siren, and checked the side mirror. One of the local cops was behind him, indicating that he should pull over. Pendergast pulled to the side of the road and stopped. Glinn pulled the curtain hanging behind the front seats closed and disappeared from view.

Pendergast recognized the female deputy with whom he had spoken at the sheriff’s office. He rolled down the window as she approached.

“License and registration, please.”

“Was I speeding, officer? I’m sorry, I’m still...” He handed her the registration and ID that Glinn had provided before they arrived in town.

She leaned toward the window as she appeared to examine the documents, and spoke in a low voice.

“I’m sorry for the way the sheriff treated you back there. You didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you.”

“They were your friends, and I can’t even imagine how you must feel.” She paused, considering what to say next. “I also think you deserve to at least know all that happened. It may not help, but...”

Pendergast nodded slowly.

“The youngest apparently did kill all of them, all but the youngest daughter. The deputies found him leaning over her, murder weapon in hand. The first deputy on the scene called out a warning, and when the boy didn’t respond, he shot him.” She sighed. “He was new on the force, didn’t know the people, and did what he thought was right at the time. No one had told him the youngest Eastman son was deaf...” She noticed the pained expression on the stranger’s face, and felt even more pity for the poor man.

“What happened to...?”

“The youngest daughter survived the attack and was taken to the hospital. She had sustained multiple slash and stab wounds, including one across her throat which severely damaged her vocal cords and nearly killed her. Both of her hands, arms, lower legs, and most of her ribs were broken. The doctors were frankly amazed that she survived such an attack. What didn’t survive was her mind. She remained unresponsive even after she had healed. The doctor in charge of her case kept hoping she would recover, but he even he eventually admitted she would never be the same. Then something really strange happened. Two days before he was going to transfer her at her guardian’s request to a private institution, a day after her 18th birthday, she disappeared from the hospital.”

“Disappeared?”

“It looked like she got up in the middle of the night and walked out. No one saw a thing. Everyone in the department searched the surrounding country for her, and eventually for her body. They even brought dogs to try and pick up a scent. Nothing.”

Amelia could see the man was fighting with several emotions: sadness, bewilderment, and anger.

“Why wasn’t any of this in the news?”

“The sheriff is very good at keeping a lid on his cases and discouraging the local press. I think you can see why. The last I heard anything was about five years ago, when the girl was declared legally dead by her guardian. After that, the case was officially closed, and as far as everyone is concerned, it should stay that way.”

“But I should...”

“Trust me, there is nothing you can do. It’s too late. You would be better off to just forget it.” Pendergast sensed that there was more that she wanted to say, but she straightened up and spoke in her normal voice, ending the conversation.

“OK mister, I’m giving you a warning this time. Drive safely.”

“Thank you officer, will do.” Pendergast noticed another vehicle drive past them, slowing down as it did so. The deputy pulled warning notice off the tablet and handed it to Pendergast, along with the other documents he had given her.

She walked back to her cruiser, climbed in, and turned back toward town.

“Wait just a few minutes,” murmured Glinn.

As he watched, the car that had passed drove by again in the opposite direction. Pendergast acted as though he was stowing his registration and license. The car slowed down again, and Pendergast put the bus in gear and pulled onto the highway. The car sped up and headed back toward town.

Glinn opened the curtain. “I think it would be prudent to change vehicles as soon as possible.”

Pendergast nodded, stepped on the accelerator, and guided the bus back towards the Interestate.

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