Difficult Run (11 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

O
CTOBER PASSED WITHOUT INCIDENT.
 
There were no more suspicious runners; no more TipLine calls. The parents of the murdered boys continued to call about once a month to see if there had been any progress in the case.
 
Each time, M.J. had to tell them that there had not been any progress, and each time she felt an added burden to solve the case as quickly as possible.

M.J. and Lola ran through the autumn forest in Great Falls Park each day surrounded by the now brilliant colors of the trees.
 
By the beginning of November, the trails were covered with leaves that produced a tiny whirlwind with each stride.

She and Jake had Thanksgiving brunch with some friends at a restaurant that served the traditional meal “family style,” another way of saying “more than you can possibly eat.”
 
M.J. had the server box her share of the leftovers and took them to Doc that afternoon.

In early December, there was a storm that left about two inches of powder snow on the ground.
 
She and Lola were undeterred in their running, although M.J. swapped her T-shirt for an oversized sweatshirt.
 
The number of people visiting the park had dropped sharply, with only the regulars appearing on a daily basis.
 
Because of the snow and the resulting ice, everyone stuck to the flat trails. The sections of the River Tail along Mather Gorge were closed as being too dangerous.

One morning, while she was having coffee with Doc before her run, M.J. said, “I’m going home to West Virginia for Christmas.
 
Why don’t you and Lola come along?
 
There’s plenty of room and I know my parents would love to meet you.”

“That’s really sweet of you to ask, M.J.,” Doc said, “but you know Christmas is the only day the park is closed all year and we kind of like having it all to ourselves.
 
The rangers have a little party on Christmas Eve and they always invite us, so that’s really our holiday celebration.
 
Besides, you need to spend that time by yourself with your folks.”

Jake was going to spend Christmas with his parents and sister in upstate New York. He and M.J. exchanged gifts over dinner two days before Christmas.
 
M.J. had bought him several DVDs of recently released movies and he gave her a sterling silver bracelet.
 
They watched one of the DVDs and went to bed early since both had to travel the next day.

“I’d rather be spending Christmas with you, you know,” Jake said as they left the next morning.
 
M.J. kissed him and said, “Maybe next year,” adding, “Somewhere warm would be nice.”

She had bought and wrapped a cable-knit sweater for Doc and a giant rawhide bone for Lola and took them by the camp on her way to West Virginia.
 
“Still wish you’d come with me, but I understand your reasons for staying,” she said.

“You just have a wonderful Christmas with your folks and we’ll see you when you get back,” Doc replied.

On the way to Ronceverte, M.J. could see that the Blue Ridge Mountains were already snow-covered and the Appalachians to the west appeared to have an even heavier coat.
 
As her car climbed through the mountains on the back roads, it began to snow and by the time she reached her parents’ house it was coming down in large, wet flakes.

When she pulled up at their house, her father came down to take her bags.
 
“Looks like you made it just in time,” he said.
 
“They’re predicting a couple of feet at least.”

They went inside where a bright, crackling fire was burning in the fireplace.
 
M.J. asked her father to leave the two large bags of presents by the decorated tree and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the fire.

Her mother came in and gave her a hug.
 
“You just relax, Honey.
 
I’m making some chili and corn bread for our Christmas Eve dinner and we can eat whenever you want,” she said.

M.J. looked out the window at the snow, which was now falling quite heavily.
 
Her father came downstairs from putting her bag in her room, went in the kitchen and came back with two beers.

“So how you doing M.J.?” he asked.

“Pretty well Dad,” she replied.
 
“Still working on the case we talked about and still frustrated by it.”

She told him about the encounter with the Marine and the TipLine call.

“Dead ends are kind of par for the course with any investigation,” he said, taking a drink of beer.
 
“Patience is always a virtue, particularly in homicide cases.
 
Trust me, I’ve had firsthand experience.”

“I know, but it’s still frustrating,” she said.

“Is your Lieutenant bugging you about it?” her father asked.

“Oh yeah. He asks my Sergeant about it almost every week.
 
I think he’d like to hand it off to the FBI and get rid of the case so it’s not on his record,” she replied.

“Well, you keep your claws in it and don’t let him pressure you.
 
There’s nothing the Bureau can do that you haven’t already done,” he said.

Her mother came in and sat down in the other chair.
 
“Are you two finished talking police stuff?” she asked.

“Pretty much,” her father said, looking at M.J.

“Yeah, Mom,” M.J. said.

“Well, we can eat whenever you’re ready,” M.J.’s mother said.

“Now would be a good time,” her father said, taking a last drink from his beer.

They ate at the kitchen table, a family tradition on Christmas Eve, and exchanged a lot of small talk about happenings in Ronceverte.
 
M.J. helped her mother clear the table and wash the dishes.

“Everything going OK with you?” her mother asked as she was putting the last plate in the drying rack.

“Pretty well I guess,” M.J. replied.

“How about your social life?” her mother asked.
 
“Are you and Jake still dating?”

“We’re still dating, but that’s about it for my social life.
 
There’s just not much time left for anything else,” M.J. said.

“Do you think you two might get married some day?” her mother asked.

“Well, Jake thinks we should, but I’m not sure I’m ready to make that kind of commitment yet,” M.J. replied.
 
“We’re thinking about living together, though.
 
How would you feel about that, Mom?”

“Well, when I was young they called that ‘shacking up,’ but things have changed, I’m sure.
 
After all, M.J., you’re twenty-eight years old and you don’t need approval from me or your father for anything you do.
 
We just want you to be happy, that’s all,” she said.

“How do you think Dad would feel about me living with Jake?” M.J. asked.

“In truth, he probably wouldn’t like the idea,” her mother replied, “but I’ll take care of that.
 
You just do what’s right for you.
 
By the way, do you love Jake?”

“I think so Mom, but we’re different in so many ways that it scares me,” M.J. replied.

“Honey, you have always been independent, and I mean since you were a little girl.
 
I doubt that you’ll find anybody that’s not different, but that’s not such a bad thing,” her mother said.
 
“Your father and I are certainly different, but I think that’s what has made our marriage work. Who would want to be married to someone who agreed with everything they said or did?”

“I suppose you’re right Mom,” M.J. replied.
 
“Maybe I can focus more on that once I get past this murder case I’m working on.” She turned and hugged her mother.

They went back into the living room and sat down in front of the fire with M.J.’s father.

“So, are you going to leave milk and cookies out for Santa?” he asked.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a Bloody Mary and some mixed nuts,” M.J. replied with a smile.

“Santa approves,” he said.

“OK,” she said, “but if you try to wake me up really early, all bets are off.”

When M.J. got up the next morning, her mother was already in the kitchen cooking.
 
M.J. grabbed a cup of coffee, then put some mixed nuts in a bowl and made a Bloody Mary for her father.

“Here you go, Santa,” M.J. said, placing the drink and the nuts on a table next to her father, who had just come downstairs.

“Ho, ho, ho,” he said, taking a sip of the drink.
 
“You have been a very good girl and Santa will make sure you get lots of nice presents.”

Her mother came in after a few minutes and said, “Well, everything is cooking.
 
Why don’t we open our presents.”

M.J. had gotten her father a wool mackinaw and her mother a fancy cookbook stand together with a newly-released edition of
Joy of Cooking
.
 
Her mother had knit her a matching blue stocking cap and scarf.
 
“Now you wear those when you’re running so you don’t catch cold,” she said.

Her father gave her a pair of Thinsulate gloves.
 
“You can still draw your gun when you’re wearing them,” he said.
 
“I checked it out in the dressing room at the store with my gun.”

Her mother scowled.
 
“What a nice Christmas thought for your daughter!” she said.

After a relaxed Christmas meal of fresh turkey and her mother’s homemade stuffing and side dishes, they sat around the fire making small talk. Her father nodded off a few times and M.J. came close to doing the same.
 
The three of them did the dishes together and then M.J. and her father used a walk-behind snow blower to clear the driveway out to the main road, which had already been cleared by the county crew.

The next day was a federal holiday and M.J. didn’t leave until late morning.
 
Her father carried her bag out to her car and gave her a hug.

“That case you’re working on,” he said, “just remember the words of the great Sherlock Holmes . . .

M.J. rolled her eyes.
 
Here it came—another Sherlock Holmes quote.
 
She had given him a two-volume set of the complete Sir Arthur Conan Doyle series for Christmas a few years ago.
 
He had sat down in front of the fireplace and read them both nonstop.
 
Since then, he would periodically use quotes to punctuate his conversation.

“ . . .
When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth
.”

She smiled.
 
“Thanks, Dad,” she said.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T
HE MORNING AFTER SHE came back from Ronceverte, M.J. checked in at the Anacostia Station and then headed to Great Falls Park.
 
The sky was overcast and there was a gusting wind from the northeast that made the wind chill well below freezing.

She stopped by Dodd’s office before changing into her running clothes.
 
He was earnestly studying some graphs and printouts on his desk.

“Hi, Dodd,” she said.
 
“Did you have a good holiday?”

“I did indeed,” he said, looking up from his desk.
 
“My daughter and her boyfriend came out from Wyoming for Christmas and announced that they’re getting married.
 
How was your holiday?”

“That’s great news about your daughter!” M.J. said.
 
“I went home to West Virginia and had a very nice time.”

“Much snow over there?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” she replied. “Lots up in the mountains and we got a good two feet while I was there.”

“I’ve been looking at the National Weather Service long range forecast,” Dodd said.
 
“They’re saying we’re going to have a lot of snow this winter, particularly in the higher elevations.
 
What worries me is what happens in the spring.
 
If it gets real warm early, the snow will melt all at once and we’ll have flooding down here for sure.
 
Not much I can do about it, I guess.
 
Just like to be prepared.”

“Probably a good idea to be worried
and
prepared, Dodd.
 
I’ll check in with you on the case later this week,” M.J. said as she left his office.

She went to the locker room where she changed into her running clothes, buckled on her gun belt and put on the stocking cap her mother had knit. She stuffed the matching scarf in her pocket and pulled on the Thinsulate gloves.
 
Her father was right—they didn’t interfere with her gun hand at all.

When she arrived at Doc’s camp, Lola was beside herself.
 
She kept turning around, barking and wagging her tail uncontrollably.
 
M.J. walked over and knelt down in front of her.
 
“Look what I brought for you, girl,” she said, removing the scarf from her pocket.
 
She put it around Lola’s neck and knotted it loosely to keep it from falling off.
 
Lola sat down with an approving dog smile on her face, tail wagging harder than before.

Doc came out from inside the tent wearing the sweater M.J. had given him for Christmas. “Well aren’t you two the coordinated fashion plates,” he said.

“My mom made it for me for Christmas, but I’m not really a scarf person.
 
I thought it would look good on Lola, though.
 
What do you think?” she asked.

“I think you’d better not let your mother know that you gave your scarf to a dog,” Doc said with a smile.

“Lola and I won’t tell if you won’t,” she replied with a laugh.
 
“How was your Christmas?”

“We had a very relaxing time,” Doc said.
 
“Went to the Christmas Eve party with the rangers and enjoyed a day to ourselves with no visitors in the park.
 
I hope you had a nice time with your folks.”

“I did, but I’m glad to be back.
 
Missed seeing you guys and running with Lola,” M.J. replied.

“We missed you too, M.J.
 
Now take Lola for a run so she can show off her new scarf. I’ll see you when you get back,” Doc said.

They ran down the Old Carriage Road and over the Ridge Trail to Difficult Run.
 
As her father would say, the wind and temperature made it “brisk,” but after a couple of miles M.J. warmed up and so did Lola.
 
The only people on the trails were hardy locals who were bundled up against the cold.
 
Several people stared at Lola with her scarf and smiled.

The winter continued to be cold and there were several snow storms.
 
She called her parents on New Year’s Day and Ronceverte had already had a total of four and a half feet of snow, which was more than its yearly average.

She stopped by Dodd’s office a few weeks later and he reported that the mountains to the west and north were already loaded with snow.
 
“This could be bad,” he said.
 
“All depends on the temperatures in April.”

M.J. and Lola continued to run, sometimes slogging their way through ankle-deep snow.
 
By early March, the snow had melted and the temperatures were beginning to rise.
 
The beginning of April set near-record high temperatures throughout the region and when she stopped in Dodd’s office he said, “We should start to see the Potomac rising in about a week when all the streams upriver start filling up with melted snow water.
 
Now it’s just a question of how much.”

“Do you think it will flood the whole park?” she asked.

“Probably at some point,” he replied.
 
“Mather Gorge will probably fill up before that, though.
 
I plan to keep an eye on data from the gauging stations near the Appalachian foothills.
 
That should give us some warning of what to expect.”

“Well, on a personal note,” M.J. said, “this will probably complicate my life a little.
 
May be hard to run on all the trails, but the bigger problem may be getting to my office.
 
It sits in the park right along the Anacostia River and we may be treading water there too.”