Jacob's Ladder Read Online Free Page B

and call the sheriff. She sat only a few minutes, considering the dead man’s life and death, wondering where he’d been going and who was waiting for him there. She thought of his family and loved ones, of their grief and loss, and of the evil that had lurked so near to her own tiny residence.
    She knelt again above the man and placed the sheet across his face, a gesture of respect, and noticed a broad band across his wrist, an area of skin that was not tan like the rest of his arm. It looked to Rose to be a spot that marked the bearings of a piece of jewelry, a watch maybe, that was now missing. Rose slid her fingers across the pale stretch of skin and then gently laid his arm to his side.
    She stood up and searched around the camper. The old man didn’t seem to have anything valuable with him. What she could make out of the personal belongings that had been ransacked, all appeared scanty, outdated, and inexpensive.
    The dog began to whine, and Rose turned to the black mutt. “I guess you know what happened,” she said. “But you aren’t likely to tell.” She reached down, petting his head.
    â€œSo, we better go call the law.” She squatted down again, facing the dead man.
    â€œLooks like Mary was right,” she said to no one. “We got some trouble here.”
    She got up and walked over to the door, held it open while the dog limped out. She pulled the door shut and stood staring at the camper and the truck, the place of such tragedy.
    As she headed down the steps, moving in the direction of the golf cart, she noticed something in the grass about twenty feet from her mode of transportation. She hadn’t seen it when she pulled in. It was a small thing, but it shone in the sun, like a mirror or a piece of tin. She walked over to it, knelt down, and realized it was a bracelet. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands.
    It was silver, a cuff style, a broad band with intricate designs engraved in it. There were small pieces of blue-green turquoise lining both the top and the bottom edges, one large stone pressed and set in the middle. It was not that old, Rose could tell, but it was very well made. It was thick and heavy, nothing like the thin, slick bracelets that she saw most people wearing.
    The designs were the same as the petroglyphs she had read about in an article about prehistoric times. They were designs that people found on stones and sides of mountains in the Southwest, symbols of animals and clans, maps and shields.
    She held the piece of jewelry in her hand, rotating it, studying it, and as she tried to understand the meanings of the engravings, she realized that the bracelet was the same size as the faded place on the dead man’s wrist.
    More than likely, Rose thought, the killer stole the bracelet and then dropped it when he got outside the camper. He was likely in a hurry or had his hands full of other things and it just fell into the grass. He probably doesn’t even know he lost it, she thought. And yet, she was almost sure that this was the only thing of value that the old man could have had.
    Could the thief be so careless? she wondered. And if he killed a man for this piece of jewelry and then lost it, might he return to Shady Grove and try to find it?
    The last question worried Rose. And quickly, as if she thought someone could be watching, she stuck the bracelet in the front pocket of her jacket, got into the cart, and hurried to the office.
    This time, the old dog did not follow behind. He stood at the trailer and watched the woman leave, then turned and lay down at the foot of the sliding steps.
    Rose drove quickly to the entrance of the campground and parked at the front steps of the office. She ran inside, where Mary had stood up from her desk and come around the counter after hearing Rose speeding up the drive.
    â€œCall the sheriff,” Rose said. Her tone was calm but imploring. “The one-dollar-bill customer was in the old