Legend of Spiralling Cedars Read online

  Legend of Spiralling Cedars

  Natasza Waters

  Sensual Romance

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only own ONE LEGAL COPY for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer or device to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the Canadian and United States Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer or device.

  Legend of Spiralling Cedars

  E-book ISBN: 978-0-9952598-4-3

  First E-book Publication: November 2018

  Cover design by Dawné Dominique

  Edited by Write Right Edits

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgment

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Dedication

  For Tamara Hoffa. Friend, editor, author, wife, mother and so much more. When I was a fledgling, you kicked my butt out of the literary nest, and your words of encouragement were the wind beneath my wings.

  Acknowledgment

  Saying thank you has always been difficult for me because the word doesn’t seem enough. To my crit partner, the talented Sheri Fredricks, and my editor Carolyn Shelly Depew: You both turn my garble into something readable. Captain Kimberly and my street team who I can trust with their honest opinions.

  Legends of Sprialling Cedars first appeared as a serial for readers of Ind’Tale Magazine.

  Finally, to Tamara Hoffa, who passed away October 22nd 2018. You supported so many authors in the indie world. Your own novels, an example of the happily ever afters we all seek. Now, we go on without you, but I’ll always remember your friendship and encouragement.

  Legend of Spiralling Cedars

  Chapter One

  Angry words and the stomp of visitors’ footsteps alerted everyone inside Spiralling Cedars Provincial Park headquarters seconds before the door burst open.

  Rachel raised a brow at her park rangers working behind the counter. Lacy, sitting at the communications desk consisting of a radio, computer, landline phone, whiteboard, and a map of the park hanging on the wall with a multitude of colored pins, swiveled her chair. Samuel, William, and Sarah’s heads tipped up from their morning duties in the office before they headed out on patrol.

  “This should be interesting,” Rachel murmured. They’d almost made it to lunchtime without a query or complaint.

  A woman’s high-pitched voice broke the sound barrier. “Arthur! I’m telling you, it’s kids and we need to report this.”

  The door, darkened with age to a deep caramel color, flew open and Cynthia Meadows stepped into the park’s central, one-stop-shopping visitor centre.

  “I’m telling you, it’s an animal,” Cynthia’s husband, Arnold Meadows, grumbled, rambling into the room behind her with his signature bow-legged gait.

  “Rachel!” Cynthia swung a gaze, boiling with anger in her direction. At sixty-five years and resisting old age with dyed, flaming red locks held back by a green hair band, one of Spiralling Cedars more vocal residents didn’t believe in going grey without a fight. “We’ve had trouble at the cottage. Someone trashed our place!”

  “Cynthia, Arthur. Let’s talk in my office.”

  Rachel led the way down a narrow hall of the hundred-year-old log cabin. Although they kept a tight ship, the aging timbers released a musty smell that lingered in the air.

  She elbowed open the door with the name set into a small holder: Rachel Crossing, Senior Park Ranger.

  Cynthia followed, but couldn’t wait to sit down before speaking. “Rachel, if you can’t keep park visitors—and more importantly, the young hoodlums who camp here—out of my private property, I’ll be forced to contact not only the police, but your manager.”

  Rachel rounded the pine desk handed down to each Senior Ranger who’d held the position in the park, and gestured for Cynthia and Arthur to sit while she settled her coffee mug next to a pile of papers waiting for her signature.

  She’d known the Meadows for five years. They were the first neighbors she’d met after earning the post located in the heart of the west coast’s outdoor playground, famous for its trails and crystal green lakes. The BC parks service had been her first, and probably last, career move since she’d graduated from the University of British Columbia with two degrees. One majoring in biology, and the other in natural resource management. Ever since she was seven-years-old and hovered a wiener on a stick over her first campfire, she knew what she wanted to do with her life.

  She loved British Columbia. She loved nature. And most of the time, she loved working with the public.

  Rachel lifted a pad of lined paper from her top right desk drawer and plucked a pen from her pocket, compliments of the shoe-string budget that came with a hundred and thirty thousand acre park she was expected to operate.

  “From the start, Cynthia. When did you arrive home?”

  Arthur jumped in to answer. A lot of folks joked how he was a whipped husband. Truth was, he’d mastered the art of marriage versus the art of hiding a body. He had the patience of Job.

  “Rachel, sorry to bother you. I keep telling Cyn it’s probably a bear.” He swiped his hand through the air with a laissez-faire motion. “We’ve been in Arizona for the last six months, snow-birding. Just got back this morning.”

  Rachel nodded as she wrote a few notes. Thousands of retired BC’ers spent the winter south of the border. As soon as April rolled around on the calendar, they all flocked home to enjoy the lush, green forests, snow-capped mountains and comfortable climate of summer. The small, privately-owned community where Arthur and Cynthia lived nestled itself against the western border of Spiralling Cedars Provincial Park, situated between Squamish and Whistler.

  Dealing with critters wasn’t out of the ordinary, living west of the Rockies. Grizzlies, racoons, deer and plenty of smaller animals inhabited BC’s backcountry. Residents understood that living in the province known for its supernatural beauty required taking precautions because bears loved garbage and cougars loved small domesticated animals as a snack.

  “How much damage, Arthur?”

  Cynthia thrust forward in her chair, the beads of her multicolored necklace flopping against her ample chest. “It’s not an animal. It’s kids. Rotten teenagers with little to no respect for private property.”

  She listened patiently. “Okay, let’s start with how they got in.”

  “Front door.” Cynthia plunked back in her chair and yarded her corded, pink sweater around her shoulders. “Broke it right off the hinges.”

  Rachel cocked her brow. “Its hinges?” Usually kids
broke a window or used a crowbar on the lock.

  Cynthia fiddled with the beads of her necklace, rolling them between two fingers. “Yes. Hinges.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s a bear.” Arthur put his attention on Rachel. “Looks like a tornado went through the place.”

  “Anything stolen?”

  He shook his head. “That’s why I think it was an animal. There’s no spray paint. TV is still there, although it’s face down on the tiles. Kitchen table is in splinters. Cupboard doors ripped off the cabinets. Fridge is tipped over as well.”

  To Rachel, this sounded like kids, even if they didn’t exhibit their artistic talents on the drywall. An animal might make a mess, but ripping off cabinet doors didn’t fit the formula. “Cynthia, Arthur, why don’t I follow you folks back to your place? I’ll have a look around and take a few pictures. If I think it is vandalism, I’ll file a report with Squamish RCMP-Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Doubt they’ll make the trip up here, but you never know.” She jotted down a few more notes.

  Wasn’t necessary to ask where they lived. Rachel visited the Meadows residence many times when issues with the wildlife came to a head. Most of the residents didn’t have much trouble, except for those who maintained fruit trees. Bears love apples and cherries, and residents became an angry posse expecting the province to exterminate them every summer. Rachel had to rationalize the bears’ side of the argument, but once in a while a bear did pose a problem and had to be relocated.

  Back in the main room of the visitor centre, Rachel stopped to grab a handheld radio. Cell coverage was spotty in their area. She checked the battery level. It only had a few hours of life, but would be good enough for this outing and tucked it into a holster on her belt.

  “Going to head out to the Meadows residence,” she announced to her team.

  “Problems?” William asked.

  He walked to the counter and raised a brow at her. Sarah, one of her other team members who she called her Redheaded Force of Nature, had a huge crush on the handsome ranger. At six-feet-three with dark, chocolate brown eyes and broad shoulders, Rachel had to agree. Sarah had good taste in the male species. He’d been transferred from Manitoba to her park a year ago. With his deep, calming voice, William could talk an angry grizzly into rolling over. Professional but easy-going, he’d kept a panting Sarah at a distance. For Rachel, he’d become her strongest ally and best second-in-command she had on staff.

  “Looks like someone, or something, has broken into their home and caused a mess. I’m gonna check it out.”

  William pulled his ballcap from the counter and adjusted it on his head. “Mind if I come along?”

  “You patrol the lake path already?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Come on, then. Lacy, I’ll be on channel two.”

  Lacy gave her a one-finger salute.

  Along the park road ahead of them, the Meadows rambled in the three-quarter ton they used for pulling their fifth-wheel down south. Bird song floated in the open window of Rachel’s truck and the sun warmed her arm perched on the sill. They had a few visitors at this time of year, mostly young people who wanted to keep it on the cheap side and enjoy spring skiing at Whistler. Once June rolled around, the park would be at full capacity nearly every day.

  “I could hear Cynthia out in the lobby. You think it’s kids?” William asked.

  Rachel turned down the volume on her handheld radio when Sarah made a call to the front gatehouse, where visitors registered and were assigned their sites. “We’ll have to see. Undetermined whether it’s animal or human asshole.”

  She waved to Marla, a forestry student they’d hired for the season, who started her four-hour watch in the gatehouse at noon, as they exited the park. Taking the first fork to the right down a paved road with trees and thick underbrush skirting the edges, she followed the Meadows until they reached the entrance to Spiralling Cedars Estates, half a mile north of the park entrance.

  On either side of the boutique subdivision, single-story homes and cabins distanced by five-acre lots created a peaceful residential landscape. Last year, the first sprawling, luxurious two-story mini mansion was erected by a wealthy family from California who spent a couple weeks in winter and a couple in summer at the beautiful home. If there’d been break-ins, she’d check out the residence to make sure it hadn’t been trashed as well.

  Rachel slowed the truck and parked in front of the Meadows’ front lawn. Rhododendrons, spaced four feet apart, lined the property and bloomed with purple flowers. Cynthia waited with her hands on her hips as Rachel and William approached.

  “I’m glad she brought you, William. I’m sure you can figure this out,” Cynthia snapped.

  Nothing like a woman undermining her own kind’s abilities at detective work. Cynthia was old-fashioned and thought a man wore the pants in the family—except, maybe her own.

  Rachel raised a brow at William.

  He bit down on a grin and said, “Mrs. Meadows, two sets of eyes are better than one. We’ll have a look around, if you don’t mind?”

  The front door lay propped against the exterior wall. Two Adirondack chairs located on the porch had been toppled onto their sides. Rachel stopped to investigate the hinges of the door, and they most definitely had been ripped off the frame. It would take a lot of strength to accomplish that. Stepping into the quaint living room, she panned a look to her right. A tornado with claws had torn through the eighties chintz furniture. A painting lay face down in front of the fireplace, the canvas shredded to pieces.

  Rachel took a closer look at the sofa. Deep cuts exposed the inner stuffing. She toed one half of a cushion on the ground and searched for the other half, finding it leaning against the front wall.

  “Doesn’t really look like knife cuts, does it?” she asked William.

  He shook his head and glanced around the room. While William and his long legs stepped across the overturned coffee table and headed for the kitchen, she took a few photos for her report.

  Rachel navigated the mess and joined him a minute later. Uncooked macaroni and dry coffee grounds crunched under her boots. The kitchen table lay in splinters, as if something heavy had landed on it, breaking the legs and cracking the top in half. The cupboard doors had been torn right off their brackets. Cynthia’s blue Dutch patterned dishes had shattered when they’d struck the floor.

  “I don’t know if this is going to help,” Arthur said, stepping over the mess and joining them. He held his hand up. Both she and William leaned in to take a closer look at the long, coarse hairs pinched between Arthur’s fingers.

  “Where did you find those?” William asked.

  “Most of ‘em here in the kitchen. Found them caught on a handle or a hinge of the cupboard doors, and one on the fridge.”

  He laid the four strands on her open palm and she took a closer look. Wiry, dark brown hairs. Thick by human standards.

  “Thanks, Arthur. We’ll have these checked out, but my first thought is you’re right. This was an animal, but—these hairs are awfully long.” She picked one up by the end and guesstimated it was at least nine inches. Bears didn’t have fur this long, and the consistency seemed more hair-like than fur-like.

  “Unit One. Unit One, this is Headquarters,” Sarah called on the radio.

  Rachel pulled the radio from her holster and held down the press-to-talk key as she spoke. “Go ahead, Sarah.”

  Sarah’s voice sounded two octaves higher than normal when she said, “Rachel, you need to get back here right now.”

  “Got a SITREP?”

  “One of our visitors showed up at HQ. Said something happened in the park. I’m here with Samuel. ‘Bout a hundred feet into the green behind site Echo Sixty. You need to see this.”

  The east loop of the campground lay the farthest from the entrance and site sixty was the last site in the loop. “Be there in five minutes, Sarah.” Rachel stored her radio. “Sorry, folks, sounds like an emergency. We’ll be back.”

  “What c
ould be more important than my home being destroyed?” Cynthia said, thrusting her hands onto her hips.

  “I don’t know, but we’ll return when we’re finished at the park.”

  Arthur wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Thanks for coming, Rachel. I’ll call my brother and have him come over to help us clean this mess up.”

  “I didn’t know you had a brother around here, Mr. Meadows,” William said.

  Arthur picked up one of the legs from the kitchen table. “Yeah, he was house-sitting for us. When we told him we’d be home this morning, he texted back to let us know he was heading to his place in North Vancouver. Had a doctor’s appointment in town. Guess it was a good thing he wasn’t here when this happened.”

  Rachel nodded. “I’d have to agree, Arthur. We’ll come back as soon as we can.”

  William followed her out to the truck.

  “Sarah sounds freaked,” he said, jumping into the passenger side.

  Rachel pulled a U-turn on the street. Once on the main drag, she stepped on the accelerator to pick up speed and pulled the radio from her belt. “Sarah, we’re on our way. What’s going on?”

  Samuel answered. “Rachel, it’s bad. We’re here with a group of campers. Said they’re Navy. Here for a guys’ weekend. Beer. Skiing. They investigated a disturbance from last night. They heard a racket just after midnight. Initially, they thought it was an animal fight.”

  Samuel wasn’t telling her much. Rachel drove past the gatehouse and toward the east loop of the campground, reaching Echo Sixty within a couple minutes. She and William jumped from the truck. Rachel scanned her surroundings as she stepped on the mossy ground behind the gravel pad of the empty campsite. The moisture from the thawed snow turned the spongy spring growth into a soggy mess. She heard voices and headed toward them. Sweeping a cedar’s long branch out of her way, a group of men stood near a tree with Samuel and Sarah talking to them.