Chapter 1: Deception, Tragedy and Betrayal

The monotonous, deafening shriek of the aged sawmill could be felt as it reduced timber into rough-cut lumber, one slow pass at a time. Vince stood opposite the operator, Carl, ready to pull the slab clear while the log was repositioned. Disaster struck three-quarters of the way down the log. He sensed the blade’s pitch change before it hit something and shattered. Had he been anywhere else, he would have been struck by the whirling shards. The carriage shuddered and bucked before Carl smashed the kill switch, engaging the clutch brake and halting the blade. A second later, the engine shut down.

Vince instinctively ducked at the first sparks from the cutting track. He straightened, pulled down his hearing muffs, and heard the older man yell, “Goddammit!” He raised his face shield and examined the damage. Carl snatched his hearing protectors off and threw them aside as he stomped forward. “You alright, son?”

“Yeah, I’m good!” Vince replied, “What the hell happened?”

“Them goddamn eco-terrorists is what happened!” The sawmill operator snarled. He examined the vertical slice where the circular blade had disintegrated. A chunk of the blade was missing. “Son of a bitch!” He inspected the log’s side, running his hand over a subtle demarcation in the bark. “Damn spike!”

“Someone drove a nail into the tree?” the 23-year-old gasped.

“More like a railroad spike,” the old man growled as he returned to the control pit. “Goddamn tree hugger’s way of protesting the ‘exploitation of forests’.” He adjusted a lever and cranked a wheel, lifting the saw housing above the log until the destroyed blade was clear. He restarted the engine, reversed the carriage, and killed the engine once more before wiping his face with a rag.

Vincent peered into the 3/8th inch kerf and saw the metallic reflection of the embedded spike. “That’s sick!” he exclaimed, “That could’ve killed someone!”

“Them fuckers don’t care,” the old man grumbled as he opened a job box and rummaged for the tools to remove the blade. “They were big into tree spiking in the 80s and 90s until they started prosecuting and imprisoning them. Those who escaped the loggers anyway.”

“How can I help?” he asked.

The old man lifted his cap and scratched his scalp. “Might as well go home, Bud. It’ll take me the rest of the afternoon to change that blade,” he sighed.

“You sure, Mr. Finley?” he asked. “I don’t mind helping.”

“Nah, I got this,” the man replied. Then he glanced back at his young assistant. “There’s a black paddle metal detector in the shed. You can use it to go over the rest of that pile we got in with this one,” he slapped the log. “Take the skidder and pull this fucker off the carriage and set it over there,” he indicated a corner. “You can cut it up for firewood.”

‘Hell yes,’ the younger man thought as he tackled his new task with renewed eagerness—anything to stay busy. Heading back to the trailer this early was not something he relished. At least now, he could continue earning meager pay, trading labor for rough-cut lumber to construct his tiny cabin. More importantly, he could keep busy and not dwell on the past—namely ... her.

23-year-old Vincent Elliot Hargrove was 6’2” and 198 pounds, maintaining an athlete’s build long after high school football. He graduated three years ahead of his younger brother Phillip and sister Cassidy, who lived at home with their parents, Roger and Janet, outside of Salem.

He was 19 when he met Kelly Johnson and fell hopelessly in love for the first time. She was a year older and studying for her bachelor’s degree in nursing. They met at a beach party and quickly became inseparable. His parents also fell in love with her and pushed them toward marriage, even though they both wanted to complete their career goals first. So, they settled for an elaborate engagement party, and he proposed during a planned event with friends, family, and a photographer.

During her third year of studies, they moved into a small studio apartment and lived like a married couple without getting married. Vince was 20 when fate turned his life upside-down. He received a note in the field while working with a CBC (Columbia Basin Cooperative) Line crew, erecting a 980-foot steel transmission tower for the interstate power grid. His parents insisted he return home immediately. He used his foreman’s cell phone to call them, and when his mother answered, he could tell something was wrong—but she wouldn’t elaborate over the phone other than to say it was about his little brother, Phil.

A sense of dread washed over him as he returned the phone to his boss. Painful memories boiled forth, and he felt helpless outrage over the events that had destroyed his family four years earlier. Philip was born with autism and struggled with school and social acceptance. Vince loved and protected his little brother fiercely—often facing discipline when his protectiveness turned physical. He was 16, in his junior year, when their 13-year-old cousin, Cindy Hargrove, accused 14-year-old Phil of sexually assaulting her when she was nine. Phil was 10 then but had the mental capacity of a first-grader. When confronted, Phil wilted. He froze and couldn’t defend or deny the allegations. Her father was a Secretary with the Washington State Department of Agriculture, and her mother, a Green Peace member, reacted as expected. Before an investigation, Phil was removed from home and placed in a juvenile detention facility. The scandal destroyed Vince’s family, making them pariahs in the community. His parents considered relocation to escape the hostile blowback. Vince was kicked off the football team and lost hope of his athletic scholarship at OSU, so he turned to the Job Corps to study electrical engineering and heavy equipment operation.

Returning to Salem on short notice was difficult, but the foreman respected the hardworking young man and arranged a ride back to Portland, where his fiancée met him and drove him home. It was early evening when they arrived at his parent’s home to find nearly a dozen vehicles parked out front. His father met them at the door, looking pale. When he stepped into the main room, he was surprised to find their family pastor and familiar faces from church. There were also two police officers, and most surprising of all ... his stomach lurched as he saw Cindy, with both of her parents, who looked worse than anyone else in attendance. The girl was seated between them on a loveseat, hugging herself. It was clear that she had been crying hard for some time.

He never believed his brother could do the atrocious things she described three years ago. His support and outrage were ignored, and he wasn’t privy to the investigation details that led to Phillip being committed as a juvenile sex offender. When he was informed that she confessed to lying about the abuse, he lost his sanity. She made up the entire thing—describing how her older cousin coaxed her into his room, exposed his penis to her, and made her hold it while he ‘diddled’ her with his fingers. Over the years, she stuck to the story, adding more details. Because of her father’s influence and Phillip’s lack of denial, he was deemed a threat to society and branded a sexual deviant. Cindy’s mother overheard her discussing the incident on the phone with a friend. She changed key details, and when confronted by her parents, she confessed to the deceitful fabrication.

Vince hated the witch who destroyed his family and his brother. He charged across the room, intent on unleashing years of anguish. He was void of rational thought as he glared at her shocked face. He swore he would kill her. It took both officers, his father, and the pastor to tackle him and pin him down as he screamed at his target. Cindy screamed in terror and jumped into her father’s arms while they pulled him away. He continued to struggle until an officer knocked him unconscious.

He woke up with Kelly sitting in his lap, crying and kissing his face.

“Don’t make me haul you away, son!” one of the cops warned as he began hyperventilating.

“Vince!” Kelly cried, holding his face in her hands. “Please, baby! I get it,” she sniffled. “We all get it! This is horrible! But you must control yourself. Phil is going to need you more than ever now!”

He felt a pain in his chest as the gravity of the situation sank in. “Where is my brother?”

“He was released by court order two hours ago,” his dad explained. “They’re bringing him here so Cindy can apologize to him directly.”

“You can’t be serious!” Vince retorted. His anger flared, and Kelly pressed against him. “Hasn’t that little cunt done enough damage?” he yelled.

“Watch your mouth, boy!” his uncle snapped from the doorway.

He spun in the chair where they sat him, nearly knocking his fiancée to the floor. “FUCK YOU! You mother fucking piece of shit!” he screamed. The officer who had warned him to behave stepped forward while his partner shoved the girl’s father back into the living room.

“One more outburst, and I’m taking you in!” the cop growled.

“Go ahead!” Vince screamed, “Take me in! Make up shit and lock me away forever!” He nearly knocked Kelly out of his lap, but she clung to him, trying to quell his temper.

“That’s enough!” the pastor interjected, raising his hands placatingly. “Greg, I think it would be best if you and Joe left,” he told the officers. “Your presence is inflaming the situation, and there are too many people here.”

With a glance back at him, the officer turned and retreated to the living room to collect his partner.

The pastor turned back to him, “Vincent, listen. Kelly is right. Be bigger than this, for your brother’s sake. He can’t fathom the stress; you’ve always been his protector. He will need your support.”

An hour later, only Vince’s family (minus his little sister), the pastor, and Kelly remained in the household. They kept him away from his aunt, uncle, and cousin to avoid another outburst. He saw headlights as a sedan pulled up front and joined everyone in the living room. The tension was palpable as they waited, with his parents by the door, to welcome their youngest son back.

Despite visiting his younger brother monthly, he barely recognized the pale young man escorted through the door by a middle-aged woman and a portly man in JDOC blazers. Phillip stood shorter than his parents and seemed vacant as they hugged him. He wore loose gray sweatpants and a green and gold Oregon Ducks hoody with his hands hidden inside the front pouch. He briefly recognized Vince but turned away. He didn’t acknowledge his aunt, uncle, or his deceitful cousin. He stood blankly before glancing at the woman who accompanied him. “Fancy?” he asked with a deadpan voice.

The woman shook her head and gave him a thin smile, “No, Phillip. Fancy is back at the center, probably sleeping in her box by the mantel.” Vince remembered the gray and white cat who favored the common room.

His brother turned and looked around the room without noticing anyone.

Uncle Gordon cleared his throat, earning a frown from the pastor. “Phil,” he mumbled. “You look well, son. Remember your cousin, Cindy?” he asked, gesturing at the terrified girl seated beside her mother. “She has something to say.” He glanced at his daughter, but she was frozen. “Cindy!” he barked.

Phillip flinched at his harsh tone, and the girl whimpered with teary eyes. He backed away fearfully when she tried to speak and looked around the room. Then he brushed past them, stepping into the hallway. Vince moved to follow, but the woman halted him with a shake of her head.

“No,” she said softly. “Let him explore on his own for a bit. Maybe some familiarity will help calm him.” She turned and glared at Vince’s uncle. “Don’t force the narrative!” she demanded. “You have no idea how fragile he is right now.” She nodded at the pastor, “I’m not certain their presence is ideal right now.”

“Fancy?” he called as he opened Cassidy’s room and stepped inside. His steps could be felt as he walked around her room before returning to the hallway. He entered Vince’s old room and repeated himself, calling for the familiar animal.

Vince’s mother sobbed as she held her husband’s arm by the front door.

“Let’s give him space to get familiar with his surroundings and let his memories of home return,” the woman repeated softly.

He felt Kelly squeeze his hand as his little brother reappeared in front of their parents’ old room. After a brief pause, he stepped into the master suite. When he didn’t immediately reappear, Vince’s dad stepped forward, but the corrections woman stopped him.

“Please,” she stated calmly, “allow me.” She stepped down the hallway to their bedroom and knocked on the door before opening it. “Phillip? May I come in?” She led him back out a few seconds later, closing the door behind her. Phil seemed withdrawn as he was led back to the living room, his eyes downcast. “It’s okay, buddy,” she assured with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You are home now.”

The next two minutes were forever imprinted on Vincent’s mind and would haunt him for life.

When they returned to the main living room, the woman fondly squeezed the 14-year-old’s shoulder before joining her partner by the front door, leaving him in the center of the room gazing despondently at the floor.

Uncle Gordon drew attention with an impatient “Ahem.”

Phillip glanced nervously at him and then at his wife, who sat miserably next to ... His eyes widened with recognition, and he trembled as he shook his head in despair and mumbled, “N ... no! Phil didn’t—” his voice was full of pain and fear as he stepped back from the girl. He clenched and unclenched his hands inside his hoody. His mental state regressed to that of a frightened toddler as he stammered.

“Sweetheart,” his mother called, “It’s okay, we know that now!”

“I didn’t!” he wailed, making everyone cringe. “I’m not bad!”

“No, honey,” she assured him, taking a tentative step forward. “You’re not bad at all! This was just a...”

“I’M NOT BAD!” he screamed, stepping away from her.

His mom froze with tearful eyes and reached out to him.

Phillip shook violently and freed his hands from the hoody’s pouch pocket.

Vince would never forget the icy horror he felt as he recognized the dark handgun in his grip. It was their father’s .45 caliber Colt M1911. He had taken them to the Four Corners Rod and Gun Club to shoot it years before. Time seemed to freeze, and he felt paralyzed as his little brother raised the weapon toward the terrified child seated between her parents. He didn’t hesitate and continued to lift the gun until the barrel touched the soft tissue beneath his chin.

“I’m not—” he sobbed.

A loud bang shattered the stillness in the living room, and the 230-grain hollow point bullet went through the boy’s head at over 800 feet per second. The blast lifted his body off the ground while his skull was blown apart—sending bone, brains, and bloody strips of hair across the room—splattering his parents and the officers.

Horrified screams erupted as the gunshot faded and the boy’s lifeless body hit the floor.

Despite their busy lives, Vince and Kelly remained committed, planning to marry that summer after she completed her BSN and started working at the hospital. Vince excelled at his apprenticeship and was pulled from the entry-level pool to work on side projects, allowing him to clock hours toward his journeyman license. It paid better than the union wage for apprentices, and he became eligible for bi-annual profit-sharing bonuses and energy stock options with a handsome quarterly dividend. He reinvested to avoid tax penalties and grow his portfolio. The drawback was increased demand for his time, with on-call commitments and mandatory overtime during power outages.

Due to the family tragedy, his parents became less subtle about their desire for grandchildren. Vince and Kelly were eager but agreed to wait until they were married, established in their careers, and living in their own home. Vince would later recognize the irony. When they began house hunting, it became clear that, at 21, he had no established credit, never having had a checking account or a debit card. So, when he and Kelly purchased their new home, he wasn’t allowed on the purchase agreement. She turned to her father to co-sign the loan. Because he worked as an apprentice electrician/lineman, he was paid weekly by check and cashed them at the Fred Meyer superstore in town. He gave her the cash for rent and left her to make the payments.

He paid in cash while she had a checking/savings account, maintaining separate finances. When payroll pressured him to switch to direct deposit, they helped him set up a personal account through the union employees’ Credit Union. He continued withdrawing cash for their mortgage, utilities, and insurance, giving it to his fiancée.

After moving into their quaint house, they renovated and furnished it. Later that summer they exchanged vows overlooking the Hood River. They kept their honeymoon short due to their new careers. Kelly had no PTO, so time off was unpaid. During their first winter, they worked hard. Vince picked up over time, and Kelly worked nights for the shift differential and easier workload.

He began to suspect something was wrong when she got called in one evening to fill in for a sick call, which was a common occurrence. Even though it interfered with their time together, they accepted it, knowing they were working toward a better future. Shortly after she left, his pager went off. There was a multi-vehicle accident with fatalities on the highway, knocking out a substation. The remaining grid couldn’t compensate for the partial outage. Vince received the call at eleven o’clock and grabbed his gear to respond. On the way to the substation, he called the hospital to inform his wife.

“Two East, this is Marcia,” a night nurse answered.

“Hey Marcia, Vince here,” he began.

“Hi Vince, how are you, sweetheart?”

“Not sure yet, but I think you’ll be getting some business,” he replied.

“Oh?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, explaining the callout and the accident. As he spoke, a fire truck with lights and sirens passed.

“I’ll go to the ER and see if they need help,” she decided.

“Cool,” he replied as an ambulance screamed past in the opposite direction. “Can you let Kel know I’ll be out on this job and not to expect me at home when she gets off?”

He noticed a long pause.

“Vince, Kelly’s not working tonight,” Marcia said. “She’s not scheduled until Monday.”

He blinked in confusion as he drove through the night. ‘Huh?’ he thought. “Are you sure?” he said, “She told me she got called in for a sick call.”

“Nope, sorry. We’re all here.”

“That’s weird,” he thought out loud, “Maybe she’s filling in on a different floor.”

Another pause, “Nope. Just came back from the bed meeting, and we are all staffed. Only one mom on the labor deck, so they wouldn’t have called her in.”

‘What the hell?’ he wondered.

“Everything okay between you two?” she joked.

‘Yeah, until ten seconds ago,’ he thought. ‘Shit! I gotta quell the gossip fast... ’ “You know what?” he said aloud, “My birthday is coming up,” he lied. “I bet she is off plotting something for the occasion.”

“Yeah ... sounds like her for sure.”

“Can we keep this on the down low?” he asked softly. “I don’t want to ruin her surprise.”

“Yeah, sure, Vince,” she replied, matching his tone. Then she spoke even softer, “Hey, if you ever need to check in again, let me give you my cell...”

He grimaced at her insinuation but appreciated the gesture. “Yeah, that would be great. Can you text it to this number? I’m driving.”

“Sure. Stay safe.”

He dragged himself into their home 18 hours later, exhausted and covered in dirt, smoke, and grease. He tossed his turnout gear in the laundry room, stripped out of his coveralls, and tossed everything in the wash before walking to the bathroom.

Kelly was in bed, snoring. She woke up as he padded to the bathroom. “Hey,” she mumbled. “I heard about the wreck at Salt Creek. Were you there?”

“Yeah,” he replied wearily. “Go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you. I’m just gonna take a long bath.”

“You should’ve called,” she replied, sitting up and setting aside the covers. She wore thin silk panties and a tank top. “I would’ve run it for you.”

He shrugged as he stepped into the bathroom and turned on the tap to the large jacuzzi tub. “I hit the ground running when I got on scene, and my phone died in the truck by the time I got out of there.” That was the truth, at least.

“I figured,” she replied. “I left you a couple of messages.”

“I didn’t want to bother you at work,” he replied quickly. “I figured you guys would be up to your asses in alligators with all the ambulances.”

“It was crazy,” she agreed.

“I didn’t expect you to be home tonight with all the new patients.”

“They asked,” she replied, sitting on the toilet as he undressed and stepped into the tub. He dumped Epsom salts into the water as it filled and sighed as he leaned back. “But I wanted to be home when you got back.” She knelt beside the large tub, grabbing a washcloth. “Let me get your back.”

The next morning, he got up early, dressed quietly, grabbed her phone from the nightstand, and checked her call and text logs while waiting for the coffee maker. He found nothing, not even the texts she’d sent him the night before. She had erased everything before bed. He turned on her iPhone locator app before slipping it back beside her.

After getting coffee, he retrieved his phone from his Ford Excursion and plugged it into the kitchen counter charger. It took ten minutes to power it up. He read her texts and listened to the messages. One voicemail was from her, and another from his supervisor, Clint.