A Loose End

A Loose End

By Anders Kjaer

The windshield wipers whiskered  back and forth, barely being able to clear the windshield before it got blurred out again.

“This is officially lost territory” I thought to myself while glancing at the highway atlas on the passenger seat.

The dark mountain road slithered its way through the pine forest, and the long into British Columbia had really taken a toll on my energy.

I barely saw the old rusty and moss covered sign up ahead reading Pine Creek Valley and  a few 100 yards later I took a sharp turn right. 

I crossed a dodgy looking bridge that I could swear was creaking from the weight of my Impala. The road then continued for another mile until my high beams illuminated a small village with a few houses and shops, many of them looking closed or abandoned. At the end of the road was an old looking three story house in half-timber style, narrow windows with small panes that’s known from the 19th century in the UK.

It looked like it hadn’t seen maintenance since it was built, but above the front entrance was a light and a sign that read “Sawyers inn”.

I parked on the side of the road and grabbed my yellow raincoat from the backseat. 

A small stone staircase led up to the large wooden door, and a mechanical clanking sounded as I grabbed the door handle and I swung the heavy door open. 

The smell of the fireplace hit my nostrils as I entered the inn. There was a small reception that was unmanned and on the wall behind the counter I could see the keys to the rooms hanging. Not a single room was occupied. 

Through french doors on the right I could see the tables of what appeared to be a restaurant, and on the left I could hear the crackling of the fireplace as well as muffled talking. I went down the short hallway, and entered a lounge with a bar counter, a few tables, and a cozy looking fireplace with hunting trophies plastered all over the wall. 

Two old men were sitting in comfy chairs at the fireplace, and an old barmaid was polishing glasses.

I walked up to the barmaid who was startled by my presence.

“Excuse me, do you have a room for the night? I’m terribly tired and I lost my way a few miles back.”

“Good evening honey, oof you gave me quite the scare there. We don’t often have strangers pass by, and certainly not so late at night.”

“I'm sorry, the reception was empty.”

“Oh it’s always empty, we haven't had anyone at the reception since the incident of 1978” the old woman said. 

One of the men sat up in his chair.

 “Shush woman” he said, and sent her a serious stare, and then turned back to his conversation.

“What incident?”

“Oh, nevermind that, you poor thing, you must be tired and hungry? Do you want some food before you get to your room?” she said clearly trying to steer the conversation away from the incident.

“Actually, that would be really lovely, I haven’t had anything but sunflower seeds since lunch, and I drove up here from Vancouver.”

“Sure thing honey, I still have some dinner left, let me heat it up for you! You can sit here at the bar.”

She poured me a pint of beer, and then went out rustling in the kitchen in the back. Meanwhile I sat down on the chair and took a sip of the beer while looking at the pictures on the wall. Proud men depicted in black and white, standing with the trees that they had conquered, some of the pictures seemed to be more than a 100 years old.

The barmaid came around with a bowl of stew that didn’t look too appetizing but it smelled heavenly.

“Are the pictures from the town?”

“Oh yes, that’s the Sawyer family, they were among the first to settle in B.C., their family lived here in Pine Creek for generations.”

I nodded while eating my food. 

“Back in the good old days Pine Creek was teeming with life, this Inn would be overrun with lumberjacks coming to work for the Sawyers. Formidable woodsmen they were I tell ya!

This lumber business of course made them immensely rich, I mean relatively speaking. There’s only so much money to be made from cutting down trees afterall, not like them boys down in California you read about in the newspaper, but certainly much more than most would see in a lifetime.”

“They still live here?”

The barmaid then got quiet and sent a quick glance towards the two men sitting at the fireplace, both seemed to be half asleep. 

She then leaned in and spoke softly “It’s only Garreth Sawyer who still lives here, he’s 5th generation. He lives in the mansion up the hill a little outside of town. The Sawyers owned everything in the town, and for a long time it seemed like the good times would never stop.”

I took a quick sip of my beer without breaking eye contact with the old woman.

“What happened then?” I asked quietly.

“Tree huggers.”

“Tree huggers?”

“God damned tree hugging hippies, that’s what happened.” The lady pulled away and continued cleaning the bar as she had when I came in.

“What did the tree… huggers do?”

“You know, what they always do, tie themselves to trees. Before we knew it we had the whole media circus up here. And then it followed that ruckus with those young fellas that disappeared”

“Wait hold on, who disappeared?”

The grandfather clock in the corner answered my question with a loud “GONG GONG GONG.” announcing midnight, and the two men woke up. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, we are well beyond our closing time, time to go now.” she said as she clapped her hands and hushed me and the two men out. It felt like the old woman tried to remove herself from the situation as if she had said too much. 

“Oh don’t worry about the registration, it’s already late, I'm sure you just wanna get under the covers, I know I sure want to!”  She then handed me a key to a room on the second floor and said a quick goodnight before turning off the light and heading back to the hunting lounge. 

The room was old but in a decent condition. At least the sheets were cleaned albeit it smelled a bit stuffy. 

I made sure to lock the door, and double checked that it was actually locked, I then blocked the door handle with a chair - just in case. The conversation had been friendly but they were strangers after all. 

I sat at the window, and looked out on the street down below. It was still pouring rain with the occasional thunderbolt revealing the mountain ridge, and the Sawyer mansion up the hill that the old lady had mentioned.

 I then went to bed thinking about what happened to those young fellas and the incident, before I fell asleep. 

The next day I tried to initiate the conversation again with the old lady, but she appeared dismissive and quickly left after serving breakfast. 

Screw it I thought as I strapped on my hiking boots, I had other plans for today.

I followed a dirt road through the forest, and after half an hour I arrived at an old abandoned wooden structure with rusted heavy machinery discarded next to it. 

It looked like the people working here had just stopped coming into work one day, and that was now 20 years ago. 

The main gate where they had dispatched the lumber for the trucks was chained shut with a big rusty padlock in the middle. 

I circled around the building, it was overgrown with wildberries and ferns along the walls. 

It was clear nobody had sat a foot here in a long time. Behind the building I found a small window leading to the basement, and I figured now that the old lady didn’t want to talk, maybe the building did.

I listened to the forest for a full minute, to ensure I was alone, then I smashed the window with a rock, cleared out the shards and then leapt into the basement. 

From the deep pockets of my raincoat I pulled out my Maglite, and turned it on. The basement was moldy and dusty and the bad air made me sneeze a few times. I tried to contain myself, despite it being abandoned, I didn’t want any surprises… 

The basement was filled with old stacks of 4 by 4 planks, sawdust, and rusty tools. The staircase to the main floor creaked for every step I took. Upstairs were the saw tables with the big circular saw blades still sitting on the tables, on the walls two-man saws and other ancient tools were hanging like relics from a better time.

Overlooking the saw hall was a plateau with an office with glass walls, I headed up the stairs to the office, the blinds were shut, and the door wouldn’t budge when I tried to force the handle.

Well, I hadn’t come this far just to be stopped by a puny door. I looked down at the abandoned tools that lay scattered around the shopfloor, and then I found my weapon of choice. 

A few moments later the door frame whined and cracked as I broke it open with the crowbar.

Inside the office was a big brown leather chair sitting behind a heavy wooden desk, a few filing cabinets. Framed pictures on the wall and a couch on a wooden frame with gray-green fabric. 

I put on a pair of gloves and then sat down in the leather chair and gave it a swirl before I looked around the office. In the top drawer of the desk I found a local newspaper with the headline:

“Federal government puts an end to B.C. lumber empires”

I continued reading the article

“... several sawmills across B.C. face closure upon new legislation recently passed by the federal government. The recent change in direction is believed to be heavily influenced by the so-called ‘tree hugger movement’, which have been championing environmental protective legislation… The effort has not come without cost to the tree hugger movement, often leading to confrontations with the lumber industry, one such conflict culminated in the disappearance of three young men in the spring last year, however no credible theories have surfaced and law enforcement are still without clues to the mystical disappearance of the young men… There’s no doubt that this disappearance invigorated the tree hugger movements cause despite the tragic circumstances…”

I put the newspaper away and went through the other drawers. I picked up an accounting book that showed the monthly revenues for the mill, and it was clear there was a steady decline until the last entry.  I cross checked the date of the newspaper with the dates in the accounting book, and the dates lined up. 

I put the accounting book back where i found it and pulled out the last drawer, it was empty but as i pushed it in again, it wouldn’t go fully in. I tried to force it, but it was like something had gotten stuck. I pulled the drawer completely out, and looked into the empty socket. A matchbox had been taped to the back wall of the desk, but over the years the tape had adhesive had deteriorated, and when I had pulled out the drawer the tape yielded. 

I opened the matchbox, inside was a ring, a small gold cross, an engraved zippo lighter, and a folded newspaper clipping that read: 

“Three environmental activists that have been operating in the area of Pine Creek Valley are still missing amidst several Sasquatch sightings. The men disappeared without a trace sometime during early May, police suspect foul play. Some locals claim the disappearance is related to a large humanoid creature that’s been spotted in the late evenings and early mornings near settlements in the area, and even partial footprints have been found. Some natives say the appearance is in response to the increased logging activity throughout British Columbia, however law enforcement remain skeptical of that theory, and chalks it up to people mistaking bears for the humanoid. Should anyone have information on the whereabouts of the three men Matthew Adams (25), Thomas Douglas (33), and Jeremy Colbert (28), you are encouraged to reach out to local law enforcement. 

I scoffed at what I had just read, I then put the effects and the newspaper clipping in a plastic bag and stored it in my pocket. It was time to pay Mr. Sawyer a visit. 

I stood on the hillside admiring the view of the mountains and Pine Creek Valley, with the Sawyer mansion behind me. The clouds were orange, and purple, and black as the sun fell on the rain clouds that were once again forming around the mountain peaks. As i turned around i stood in front of the Victorian Era style steel gate that ominously guarded the Sawyer mansion. The gate squeaked as I pushed it open, and I walked along the slight overgrown path straight up to the front door and then knocked three times with the lion shaped handle. 

I waited a full minute before the door was opened by an old and frail man.

“Yes?” 

“Mr. Sawyer? May I come in, my father used to work for the Sawyer Lumber Company back in the golden days. I know I come unannounced, it’s a bit of a coincidence that I’m passing by but my father used to tell me all about you and the company, I would love to hear more about those days.”

I could see he considered it for a second, but  eventually he rather indifferently said “Why not?” as he shrugged and then turned around leaving the door open, as he slowly trudged off. 

It took me the better part of an hour and a few whiskeys to warm him up to me, but eventually I got him going, and the old man wouldn’t stop talking about what a hell of a man he was, and how he was credited with all the successes and absolved of all blame for the failures. I pretended to listen intensely like I was his biggest fan.

When the mood was just right and I had gained his confidence i asked

“Can I ask you Mr. Sawyer…"

“Please call me Garreth” he interrupted while smiling and taking another sip of his whisky.

“Garreth, have you ever… Seen the sasquatch?”

He got quiet for a second then bursted out laughing.

“Hah! Seen it! More than that… “

“More?”

He sent me a crooked smile, and then said “I’ll be right back.”

I sat there on the old leather couch, in the dimmed lighting looking at the interior similar to the inn with old and dark furniture, and the mansion hadn’t been cleaned for a long time. 

I studied the walls with the old black and white pictures and family heirlooms, and in the middle of the ensemble; two vintage revolvers were hanging decoratively among the pictures. Suddenly from the corner of my eye I could see a large figure standing in the dark hallway, clearly larger than the frail man I had sat across from earlier and the creature gave out a terrifying howl. 

I let out a gasp not so much as I was afraid of the illusion in front of me but more of the howl that broke the silence. 

The creature slowly approached me while howling.

“That’s uh… quite the outfit Mr. Sawyer”

From under the suit I could hear muffled laughs, as he took off the primate head that was balancing on top of his head making him appear taller. 

“I used to scare them hippies out in the forest. It was some of the loggers that brought it up, and me and dad made this thing. Of course the loggers knew it was me running around at night, but they kept their mouths shut. I own the town, I own the inn, I own everything here, if I’m gone they are gone, haha.” he chuckled as he sat down on the couch again. 

“Those suckers you met down in town? They all probably know that it was me, but they are only here on my good graces.” he said self-celebrating while taking a sip of his whisky. 

“I’m afraid you are not the only one who has been lax with the truth, I am actually here to tie up a loose end, and today I took the liberty to visit your office in the old sawmill.”

The grin on Mr. Sawyers disappeared immediately as he turned pale. I pulled out the plastic bag with the personal effects that I had found earlier and put them on the table in front of him.

“My father did work in this area, but not for you… The ring I found in your office was the one he was wearing when he disappeared. A ring that he wasn’t wearing when his remains were uncovered two weeks ago along with the two others he was with when he disappeared. Killed execution style, with an old caliber, presumably similar to the ones you have hanging right over there. ”

The old man sunk down in his chair, and sat quietly with a 1000 yard stare. 

I stood up, and from my left pocket I pulled out the recording device that had been running since I entered the mansion, and put it on the table in front of him.

“I’m detective Katherine Douglas with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, Cold Case unit, Garreth Sawyer, you are under arrest for the murder of Jeremy Colbert, Matthew Adams and  Thomas Douglas.“