Action/Thriller

164

Thirty-four years have passed since Kevin Reynolds perpetrated the most heinous crime the citizens of Carver, Montana had ever witnessed in their small, alpine community. Now, Kevin's great nephew, Mitch, has found a bundle of old letters written by Kevin to his father in 2001, the year of Kevin's execution. His curiosity peaked, Mitch has recruited two of his good friends to hike up to the Blind Valley caldera and scout out the scene of the crimes of 1969 and to try to find the hidden cave where the old mountain man, Sam Elliott, once lived.

"Hey, Spence–Remember hearing about my cousin Kevin?" Mitch asked.
"Sure, I remember hearing about him, but I thought he was your uncle."
"I don’t think so. He was my grandfather’s brother’s son. Does that make him my uncle?"
"Hell–I don’t know. Who can figure that out?" Spence laughed. "I think maybe that’s a cousin, like you said."
"Well, how much do you know about him? I mean about what he did and all?" Mitch continued.
"Not much, Mitch. I mean I’ve heard the stories and all, but that’s about it," Spence replied. "Why?"
"Just wondering…but–what if I told you I know the whole story?"
"The whole story? Nobody knows the whole story, not even the sheriff. Kevin never talked and they never found his friend or that girl," Spence replied.
"Wiley and Mary," Mitch stated.
"What?"
"Wiley and Mary. Wiley was Kevin’s friend and Mary is the missing girl," Mitch explained.
"Whatever–Hey, you’ve got a bite!" Spence said, excitedly.
Mitch looked at his bobber bobbing up and down on the water and gave his rod a quick jerk.
"Darn! Missed him!" Mitch complained.
"Pay attention, little buddy," Spence advised. "He probably got your bait. Better check your hook."
Mitch reeled in his line and looked at the empty hook.
"Yep, he did."
Mitch got another night crawler out of his tin can and baited his hook.
"So, what if I told you that I do know the whole story?" Mitch asked again, casting his line into the crystal clear waters of Lake Carver.
"How could you know the whole story? You weren’t even born yet when all that happened. Besides, like I said before, your cousin took it all to his grave with him."
"Not exactly all," Mitch replied, a sly smile on his face.
"Okay, what gives? I’ll bite. What do you mean, not all?" Spence asked, more annoyed at Mitch for interfering with his fishing than anything else.
Spence liked it quiet when he was fishing. He didn’t like conversation when his line was in the water and not because he believed it bothered the fish, like some fishermen do. Spence was just the kind of guy who liked to let his mind wander when he was fishing. He might choose to go climbing a mountain or he might be exploring a virgin forest in the Alaskan wilderness. Fishing took him to many places he could not physically go to and Mitch’s constant chatter was a distraction to his travels. They were best buddies, but there were limits, and Mitch’s constant talking was pushing those limits.
Spence looked at Mitch with an annoyed look on his face, waiting impatiently for him to explain what he was talking about.
"Kevin, the last year he was in prison, wrote letters home to his dad, Buck–my great uncle. He knew the end was near and it didn’t look like he was going to get a reprieve, so he started telling his dad the whole story in the letters; from day one through to the end…"
Spence’s countenance changed from annoyed to one of interest.
"Yeah, go on," Spence said.
"The letters were supposed to be a secret, for Buck’s eyes only, and apparently my Uncle Buck kept them a secret because nobody ever found out what happened to Wiley and Mary," Mitch continued.
"And you know?" Spence asked, Mitch now having his full attention.
"Yep, I do. It’s all in the letters."