Page 42 of Death on Gallows Path

Right now, it was closed to the public by yellow police tape. A North Bend County sheriff’s department vehicle sat where the gravel of Gallows Path intersected with the paved road we were on and beside the street sign identifying both.

We were not going to get onto Gallows Path.

An area of low vegetation that paralleled the paved road was backed by close-ranked deciduous trees. Their spring vegetation — not yet full-sized or color saturated — gave the canopy an airier feel than it would have in full summer, but it was still impressive.

As we rolled past slowly, it wasn’t until we were nearly at the entrance to Gallows Path that we could see the large, luxury pickup that certainly resembled the one we’d seen the Swindells get into after training last night. The road burrowed into the trees, making it like looking through a tube, then turned to the right, out of sight.

“I’ve heard this is a spot teenagers come for, um, privacy,” Clara said.

The truck sat a couple vehicle lengths into the treed area, but well before the turn.

The gravel thinned out as Gallows Path proceeded, leaving it mostly dirt by the truck.

The driver’s door was open. The vehicle lights that had caught the passerby’s attention this morning either didn’t show in daylight or had been turned off.

No forensics types were visible and there was no sign of the victim.

As for when the vehicle would be moved, I had the inside scoop that the sheriff’s department’s wish list included more towing company contracts to cut delays for bringing in vehicles for processing.

Sure, that Teague told me.

My focus down the arboreal tube shifted to the lone occupant of the official car.

I wasn’t surprised it wasn’t Deputy Hensen doing this duty.

He was too senior — especially with Teague out of town — for vehicle-watching duty. I wouldn’t go as far as saying he approved of Clara and me being interested in certain crimes in the area.

I was relieved it wasn’t Deputy Eckles.

He didn’t approve of Clara and me — in general and specifically our inquiries. Teague swore he was a promising deputy. I swore Eckles not only went by the book, he kept it ironed and starched.

This was an unfamiliar figure, possibly a recent hire.

“Very interesting,” Clara murmured from the passenger seat. She leaned back to look behind me to hold her view down Gallows Path as we crept past.

“What is?”

“Why didn’t Damon drive to where the road turns? Trees would obscure anyone’s view of the truck, its lights. That’s why teenagers come here.”

“So he didn’t care about being seen? Or he thought it wasn’t an issue because not many people pass by on this road? Didn’t expect to be here long? The answers depend on why he came here.”

“A woman or money,” Clara said promptly. “But for a woman he’d make the turn, like the teenagers. For money, too, I’d think. Be sure there was no audience. Not doing that makes no sense.”

On that cheerful note, I accelerated gently, closing off our view of the truck.

“It does tell us that one of our big questions is what brought Damon Swindell out here,” I said.

“Especially in the early hours of the morning.”

“Or the late hours of the night. Unless we find out the time of death.”

“You’re right. I was thinking of when he was found, not when he was killed. Either way, alibis are going to be useless, because the presumption is everyone would be home in bed, asleep. Some alone. The others could be expected to lie for each other.”

We were on the same track. Problem was, it led nowhere.

We passed a curve and there was a wide entrance to a gated road ahead.

“Ready for me to turn around and take another look on the way back?” I asked.