Aspen Allegations - A Sutton Massachusetts Mystery

Chapter 11

Winter had released its icy grip for a day. It must have been nearly sixty degrees as I pulled into the parking lot at Purgatory Chasm – and winced. The place was absolutely crawling with people. There were family groups grilling up burgers by picnic tables, young lovers walking hand in hand, and two elderly women in teal sweats walking a pair of dachshunds.

Jason was waiting for me on a rocky outcropping, a navy-blue flannel shirt tucked neatly into his jeans. He smiled as he stood, coming over to join me.

A trio of youngsters nearly barreled into me as they scrambled toward the mouth of the ravine. I shook my head. "Isn't it Monday?"

"Veterans Day was yesterday," he pointed out with a twinkle in his eye. "They've all got the day off today."

I had completely forgotten. One of the down-sides of working from home is that I often lose track of when working-day folks have their days of freedom. I had gotten so used to weekdays being the quiet, restful days in the parks that it hadn't occurred to me it could be otherwise.

Purgatory is a granite chasm with walls reaching up to eighty feet high. The chasm was formed when, during the last Ice Age, glacial meltwater broke through a massive ice dam and rushed down through Sutton. Today it was densely peppered with people, as if a picnicker's sandwich had been left behind in a field and discovered by a ravenous army of ants.

I shrugged in acceptance. "Well, we definitely won't be going down into the chasm proper today." I smiled at him. "Shall we do Charley's Loop?"

He turned left, and we walked past the large, concrete-floored dining area with its scattering of wooden picnic tables beneath an open-sided, beamed ceiling. "Don't want to have children underfoot while making your way down the crevasse?" he asked.

A pair of young teenage girls strolled toward us, garbed in bright pink halter tops and shorts so tiny they could barely be called underwear. I waited until they passed before responding. "I find it incredibly stressful to go in when it's crowded," I admitted. "Not because of the challenge of the climb, but because of the carelessness of the others around me. The chasm is dangerous. There are jagged rocks and deep, narrow crevices littered all down its length."

My brow creased. "The last time I was through there, I saw a woman in her early twenties carrying a newborn in a chest wrap. A newborn! Just one slip of the mother's feet and the baby would have been crushed. It makes absolutely no sense how little care some adults have for the children they're responsible for. So every step I take becomes tense. I'm on constant alert to catch the arm of a tumbling college student in clogs, or to run for help if something more serious happens."

He nodded as we made our way down the path. The forest floor was carpeted with shades of brown, primarily red oak, white oak, and maple leaves. The deciduous trees had long since relinquished their robes, leaving behind only the fluffy pine and sturdy juniper to provide a rich green backdrop to the view.

His voice was rich in my ear. "The chasm does have a large warning sign at its entrance advising people of the dangers," he pointed out.

"Of course the sign is there; one would think that half the visitors aren't able to read," I sighed. "People head in there with flip-flops, or high heels, and then they wonder why the ambulance makes such frequent visits. It's as if they expect, if they're allowed to go in there, that it must therefore be absolutely safe. They figure if there was any danger that someone would have put up a fence to keep them away."

We came around a bend and heard high laughter off to the right. I looked over and drew to a stop. A group of teenaged boys and girls were jostling for position on a high outcrop jutting out over the chasm's depths.