It had all been planned, down to the final detail. She was to meet him in the parking lot in front of the Silver Dollar restaurant in Carrington. He would get in her car and she would drive him to Lake Moon where the deal would take place. At Lake Moon the dealer would be waiting at the designated transaction spot.
Her 1988 Toyota Camry pulled into the parking lot on time. She parked and nodded her head toward him in recognition. He got out of his truck and walked over to her car. These secret rendezvous always made her nervous, but she was slowly getting used to them.
As he walked toward her car she noticed that he was wearing gloves, even though it was mid-October and the weather had not, as yet, turned cold. Strange, she thought, but there were other things she needed to focus on. Be observant, she kept telling herself, she needed to recall it all for the report to be filed later.
She was wearing blue jeans, sneakers and a baggy sweatshirt to hide the recorder taped to her exercise-toned torso. She had turned the recorder on when he started toward her car. Everything was going smoothly. She smiled at him.
Her passenger door opened and he asked, "Is everything OK?"
"Lets go," she said, as he got in and closed the door. She backed out of the parking lot and headed toward Lake Moon. As far as she knew, nobody saw them leave.
She had been undercover for six months, and had infiltrated the drug community in Carrington easily. Her athletic good looks and party-girl personality had certainly helped. The Carrington sheriff’s department didn’t even know who she was or why she was there. Even the locals didn’t trust the Carrington sheriff’s department with their knowledge of what went on in their mountain community. In this small town, you couldn’t be sure who to trust.
There were big drug deals going on in this small mountain community and the Drug Enforcement Agency was trying to identify who was at the top. She was getting closer to finding out the identity of the top dog. Maybe a slip of the tongue tonight would help her find out who it was.
Her radio was tuned to the local country station and it was bluegrass music hour. She tried to engage him in conversation, but he had little to say. This was a different side of the talkative man she had first met one month earlier. They had met at a party in one of the log cabin lodges that were hidden in the surrounding secretive mountains. Sex, alcohol and drugs set the tone of the party. Girls had traded sex for free drugs, and the drug supply seemed endless. To keep her identity hidden, she had traded also.
The sex with him was unimaginative and quick and although disgusting, she had gained another contact. Two weeks later when she encountered him again at another party, she asked about the possibility of making a moderate-size drug purchase. He had agreed and the results of that agreement were now taking place. Two ounces of 80 percent pure cocaine would be exchanged tonight. She was paying cash, not trading favors this time.
They finally arrived at Fortune Branch, a boat launching area at the edge of Lake Moon, twenty miles east of Carrington. It was about midnight and the other car was waiting. She did not recognize the car but took note of the make, model, color and license plate number. She didn't know whom they were meeting, but doubted it was Mister Big. After parking alongside the waiting car and silencing the radio and headlights, her man got out and went over to the waiting vehicle. She couldn't hear what they were saying and was beginning to wonder what was taking so long. Shortly he returned to her car and asked for the money. She gave him the money and he then returned to the other car.
The waiting car door opened and it was then she recognized the lone occupant. He got out and approached her car. Her heart was pounding now. Keep it cool, she thought. This was the break she needed. The hidden tape recorder was still running, hopefully recording more than her pounding heartbeat.
He opened her car door and it was then she saw the Raven Arms .25-caliber semiautomatic pistol. Her scream and the gunshot echoed through the silent mountains but no one heard. She had made a fateful mistake.
On this mid-October day, two seasoned fishermen from the small mountain town of Carrington had decided to try their luck at the well-stocked Lake Moon.
The weather report had promised it to be one of those sought-after autumn days where the temperature would be in the middle eighties, the sun would shine, and hopefully the fish would bite.
The yellow and orange pigments that had been produced all summer long by the trees were masked during the summer months by the green pigment in the leaves. When the days began to shorten, the trees stopped producing chlorophyll, revealing the golds and coppers that had been there all along. In response to the cooler weather some of the trees began producing additional red and purple pigments to add to the natural autumn palette.
The two fishermen had brought along their small boat and had every intention of whiling away this beautiful day, catching fish and drinking beer while surrounded by the autumn colors. They had decided to launch the boat at Fortune Branch, a popular launching spot at the lake. This launching spot provided a four-lane boat ramp and had a courtesy dock.
They had planned their arrival at Lake Moon to be around 8:00 in the morning, on this their fishing Saturday, and they were on schedule. After unpacking the fishing gear and beer-filled cooler from the Ford truck, they slid their boat off the trailer and into the water. They were just about ready.
"Its gonna be one helluva day," predicted one of the fishermen as he tugged the boat towards the water.
"You bet your sweet ass it is," responded the other, adjusting his fishing vest and packing his mouth with more Red Man chewing tobacco.
At that moment the other fisherman noticed something in the water, about fifteen feet in front of the courtesy dock beside the boat ramp.
"What you suppose it is?" he asked, shielding his eyes with his hands to get a better look.
"Don't know, but it looks like the top of a car." the other responded, putting down his tackle box.
"Well I'll be goddamn, it is a car. Do you think anybody knows it's there?"
As they looked at each other, that frightful nervous feeling began in their stomachs. They both knew something bad had happened here.
"We better go call the police," he said and quickly turned and headed back towards the truck.
They left their boat and gear and went to report what they had seen.
"Beats the hell outa me. It looks like someone drove off the dock," answered one of the fishermen when the Carrington Sheriff asked him what he thought had happened.
The body was not visible until after the water had drained from the passenger compartment of the 1988 Toyota Camry removed from Lake Moon. There was no visible damage to the car. The headlight switch was in the off position and the radio was also turned off. The ignition was turned on with a single ignition key. There were no personal effects in the car. The trunk and glove departments were empty.
She was nude. A mid-thirty's woman with an athletic build. She had medium length sandy-brown hair, and her body showed remnants of a faded tan line obtained by wearing a not-too-modest two-piece bathing suit. No clothing, or pocket book, or jewelry was found.
Doctor William Arritt, medical examiner for the county, pronounced her dead at the scene. Sheriff Ron Tillotson said foul play could not be ruled out until the results of the autopsy became available.