by Dirk Patton
“No! I appreciate the offer, I really do, but this isn’t your problem.”
“And it’s not yours, either! It’s Matt’s. If he hadn’t set up office space in the most expensive part of the city, you wouldn’t be in this mess. What the fuck? Did he think Bill Gates or Jeff Bezos was going to walk in for therapy and let him charge twenty grand an hour?”
“Brody---”
“No! Bullshit, Kat. This is your career, everything you’ve worked for, and he put it all in jeopardy. Has it hit your credit file yet, or is there still time?”
“It’s about to hit,” she answered grudgingly.
“Okay. Then there’s still time. I’ll stop at the bank---”
“Three hundred and seventy thousand,” Kat said, cutting him off.
Brody glanced between her and the road several times, his mouth falling open in shock.
“Three hundred and...”
“Seventy,” she said, nodding. “And that’s not counting the second and third mortgage on the house. Got that much, Brody?”
He was quiet for a long minute before blowing out a big breath.
“Fuck,” he finally said.
Katarina nodded slowly in agreement.
“And, you’re right. I have no choice. I have to talk to Pettigrew and explain. That’s better than waiting until they pull my financials and find out.”
“He’ll bench you. You know how the bureau is about us keeping our finances under control and in order. But if you can get him on your side, you’ve got a good shot at restarting your career once the debt is cleared up.”
Katarina shrugged and went back to staring out her window. Brody recognized she didn’t want to keep talking about it.
They finally made it out of the metropolitan area and began climbing. Following US Highway 2 into the foothills of the Cascade Mountains, Brody rolled his window most of the way down and, ignoring the rain, took a deep breath.
“Smell that?”
“What?” Katarina asked. “And roll the damn window up. I’m cold.”
“Mountain air,” he said, ignoring her request. “I could live up here.”
Katarina looked at him a moment and tried to stifle a laugh.
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious, Kat. No traffic. No crime. None of the bullshit of the big city.”
“Just a serial killer that splits heads open with something so hot their brains are boiled away to nothing.”
Brody shrugged.
“The body was dumped. Probably killed in the city I want to get out of. You’ll think different if you ever have kids. I’d love to move Shanice out to the country. Let her find out there’s more to life than a phone screen.”
“What about Janice?”
“Seriously?” he asked, shooting her a quick glance. “She’d quit her job in a heartbeat. We’re both sick of the city.”
It was quiet for a minute, Katarina looking at Brody with a concerned expression.
“You’re not trying to tell me you’re retiring, are you? And roll the goddamn window up!”
Brody pressed the switch and the glass slid into place, cutting off the road and wind noise. Katarina shivered and zipped her jacket.
“No, Kat,” he sighed. “Not going anywhere for quite a while. Bills to pay and a kid to raise.”
“Probably for the best,” she said, sounding relieved. “Breaking in new partners is a pain in the ass.”
“You’re telling me,” he said, casting a sideways glance in her direction. “It’s taken me years to get you whipped into shape.”
“I’m a fucking ray of sunshine,” she said sweetly.
They fell silent, Brody focused on driving as Katarina resumed idly flipping through the case file. Startled, she looked up when the SUV bounced off the pavement onto a gravel road that disappeared into a tunnel of towering cedars and hemlocks. The canopy above was so dense that only an occasional drop of water fell onto the windshield and Brody shut off the wipers.
“How much farther?” she asked, looking at the dense forest pressing in on either side of the narrow track.
“Worried about hearing banjo music?”
“Not as worried as you should be.”
They rounded a sweeping bend and braked to a stop in front of an old farmhouse. Spreading out behind it were large, cleared pastures with sheep grazing on the lush, green grass. A battered Ford pickup was near a rickety porch where an old man was sitting in a rocking chair. Within easy reach, a long, double barreled shotgun leaned against the wall.
“Charming,” Katarina muttered.
The man didn’t react to their arrival, but they could see he was watching them. In a long-practiced move, they opened their doors and stepped out at the same moment. Brody kept his attention focused on the man while Katarina turned a slow circle, surveying the area.
“FBI,” Brody called out. “Are you Mister Zophiel?”
He remained quiet for a few moments, then stiffly got to his feet. Both of them blinked in surprise. Seated, he’d appeared normal sized, but when he stood, he towered nearly to the ceiling of the porch.
“That’s me,” he answered in a strong, deep voice. “What took you so long?”
“Traffic,” Brody said.
They moved forward together, keeping several feet of open space between them. Zophiel’s eyes followed, flicking back and forth as he assessed his visitors.
“I’m Agent James, this is Agent Daniels,” Brody said when they reached the porch. “Where’s the plane?”
The old man stared until the silence began to grow uncomfortable, then he looked down at Brody’s shiny brogues.
“Those city shoes all you got?”
Two
They all climbed into Zophiel’s truck, Katarina squeezed between the two men. With a clatter of gears, he got the battered vehicle moving, heading out across the largest of several pastures.
“How many acres do you have, Mister Zophiel?” Katarina asked.
“Few hundred,” he said, then pointed to their right. “Butts up against federal land on that side.”
“Do you remember search teams coming across your property about a year ago?” Brody asked.
“Bunch of fellas from the Sheriff and one with a jacket like yours.”
“FBI?”
Zophiel nodded
“Do you know if they searched the area where you found the plane?”
“Doubt it.”
“Why’s that?” Katarina prompted when he didn’t offer anything else.
“You’ll see,” he said.
They didn’t ask anything further and he didn’t offer any more information. The only sounds breaking the silence in the cab of the pickup were the straining engine and the rattles every time they hit a hole or rut in the soft ground.
Katarina expected they would drive no farther than the tree line along the far edge of the pasture, but the old man shifted the truck into four-wheel drive and pushed through a stand of saplings onto a small, muddy track. Branches slapped the windshield and scraped along the rusting metal sides. Two hundred yards in, a massive hemlock had fallen across the track, the trunk so thick they couldn’t see over it. Zophiel stopped and shut off the engine.
“Walking from here.”
He started to open his door, pausing and looking back when Brody spoke.
“There’re trees against the door. How’re we supposed to get out?”
“Just give it a shove.”
He demonstrated by pushing on his door which compressed several cedar saplings and a thick tangle of vines far enough to allow him to slip out of the cab.
“Yep. You’re made for country living,” Katarina smirked.
Grumbling, Brody followed the old man’s example and forced his door open, then stepped out into the forest. He held the door as Katarina slithered through, then they pushed their way past the undergrowth to catch up with Zophiel, who had already disappeared over the fallen tree. Using the truck’s front bumper for a boost, they clambered over, dro
pping into ankle deep mud on the far side.
Brody had slipped on a pair of rain boots before they’d gotten into Zophiel’s truck, but they were for keeping one’s feet dry on a city sidewalk, not slogging through a Pacific Northwest rain forest. Katarina was a regular hiker on the mountain trails that were plentiful in the Seattle area and was dressed for the environment. She was comfortable and enjoying the exercise.
Ahead, Zophiel had come to a stop. When they stepped up beside him, Brody was breathing hard, but Katarina seemed cool and composed. Opening out before them was a deep ravine. The walls, while far from sheer, were steep and covered with dense growths of bramble.
“There,” Zophiel said, pointing with a gnarled finger.
Far below, they could just make out part of a small plane’s fuselage and wing. The rest was completely concealed by the aggressive foliage.
“I see why you doubt they searched down there,” Katarina said. “But how did you find it?”
“Chasing a lost lamb,” Zophiel said.
“Have you been down there?”
“Too old to be curious about something that has nothing to do with me.”
Brody and Katarina stared at the crashed plane in thought for nearly a minute.
“What do you think?” Brody asked, still puffing from exertion.
“I think you’d better quit smoking.”
Zophiel cast her a sideways glance, then pulled out a pipe and lit it with a wooden match. The sharp tang of cherry-vanilla momentarily masked the moldy smell of the perpetually damp forest.
“We’re going to need a forensics team and some guys that can handle the terrain,” Brody said, ignoring her jibe.
“Agreed. Why don’t you get things rolling? I’m going to go take a look.”
Brody frowned for a second in confusion then quickly shook his head.
“Are you crazy? Look at that!” he said, gesturing at the ravine’s walls.
“I hike stuff like this all the time,” she said. “Besides, it’s going to take hours before anyone makes it out here. Better than sitting on my ass.”
Brody wanted to complain but knew his partner too well.
“Fine,” he said, bringing out his phone. “I’ll make the calls. Just watch yourself. Don’t need to add a mountain rescue to the mix.”
Katarina pulled a face that he didn’t see.
“Damn it,” Brody muttered, then raised the phone high over his head.
“Don’t have any signal out here,” Zophiel said.
Katarina fished her phone out of her jacket to double check, shaking her head at an inquisitive look from Brody.
“I’ll run you back to the house,” Zophiel said, tilting his head in the direction of the truck. “Got a landline phone you can use.”
“Go,” Katarina said before he could object. “I’ll be fine.”
Brody cast a doubtful look into the ravine.
“Don’t like the idea. What if something happens?”
“Then you’d still have to go back to the house to call for help.”
He looked at the ravine some more then frowned at her.
“Just watch your ass, okay? Seriously.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Katarina said, then started picking her way down the steep slope.
Brody and Zophiel watched for a minute before turning and heading for the truck.
It took Katarina half an hour to reach the bottom of the ravine. The rain had picked up almost as soon as she’d begun climbing down and now she was soaked despite the supposedly weather-proof FBI jacket. Carefully approaching the plane, she stopped well short and took her time surveying the area.
She didn’t know anything about aircraft beyond the ability to tell the difference between a prop plane and a jet. This was a twin prop or had been before one of the wings and the attached engine had been ripped away. She didn’t have the knowledge to even hazard a guess if the damage was the result of crashing into the ground or had been the cause of the crash.
What little of the fuselage that wasn’t hidden beneath thick vines and berry bushes was covered with a layer of black algae. This made the wreck seem old, but she knew from experience that in the constant dampness of a Washington winter the stuff could take over in only a matter of months.
Bringing out her phone, she spent several minutes taking photos from all sides to document the scene as she’d found it. Moving closer to the plane, she reached out and pulled vegetation away to expose the tail. Once it was cleared, she paused a beat when she saw the tail number had been removed. She snapped a pic of the blank metal anyway.
Following the fuselage forward, she pulled more vines away, stopping when a gaping hole in the side was exposed. Exchanging the phone for a small LED flashlight, she moved to the opening and played the beam around the inside of the aircraft. A muskiness wrinkled her nose and she spotted where a wild animal had used the interior for a den. She was glad it wasn’t home at the moment. Leaning inside, she aimed the light at the cockpit. Two empty seats.
Returning her attention to the main cabin, the light came to rest on a large pile of leaves in the middle of the deck. Straightening, she looked about for a stick. Leaning inside, she used it to rake the leaves aside, pausing in surprise when it came up against firm resistance.
Poking in different areas, she quickly determined that what she’d thought was only a deep pile of wind-blown debris was actually something large and substantial. Pulling back, she stared at the mound. Debated whether or not to explore further on her own or wait for a forensics team to arrive and let them do the digging.
“Fuck it,” she muttered, carefully climbing into the aircraft.
Squatting over the pile, she held the flashlight in her mouth while she brushed leaves aside. Her hands slowed as a dozen large duffel bags were revealed. They were held in place beneath a net that was secured to the deck. Scooting a few feet away, she took several photos of the plane’s cargo.
Phone back in her pocket, Katarina worked one of the bags loose and pulled it close. She struggled to get the zipper to move, then it suddenly released and was jerked fully open.
Katarina froze, staring at the contents of the bag. The flashlight beam reflected off plastic wrapped bundles of cash. Slowly, afraid of making a mistake, she retrieved a pair of latex gloves from her jacket pocket and worked them onto her hands. Holding up one of the bundles of cash, she turned it in the light, noting the thick rubber band that tightly held a stack of hundred-dollar bills. Heart pounding, she looked back into the duffel and stared for a long moment. She couldn’t begin to hazard a guess of how much money was in the bag.
Letting the bundle drop into the bag, she rocked back on her heels as her eyes traveled across the entire pile of duffels. Suddenly frenetic, she tore zippers open. Light glinted off plastic wrap in every bag.
As the enormity of what lay in front of her sank in, Katarina began breathing faster and faster. Her heart pounded a drumbeat of fear and excitement. Then she began to hyperventilate. Leaping out of the aircraft, she stood in the rain and bent forward until her head was nearly to the level of her knees.
She forced her body to calm itself. Slowed her breathing and waited for her heart to stop trying to fly out of her chest. Finally, she was able to take slow gulps of cool air deep into her lungs and hold it for several seconds in between breaths.
Straightening, she had a moment of vertigo, but it passed as quickly as it had appeared. She stared through the hole at the mound of cash, her mind whirling. Turning, she looked up at the edge of the canyon. Brody and Zophiel hadn’t returned yet, or were sitting in the truck, out of the rain. She looked back at the plane. Imagined being benched from the job she loved because her husband had spent them into ruin.
She snatched a duffel off the stack and raced into the forest.
Three
Multiple agencies descended upon the crash site in response to Brody’s call. The local Sheriff’s department, FBI forensics, NTSB crash investigators and a search and rescue team from the Sta
te Police all showed up over the next several hours.
Vegetation was cleared, then at the direction of the lead forensic technician, a series of large canopies were erected to protect the site from the weather. There had been nothing for Katarina to do but watch the experts while they worked. As the senior of the two, Brody had the responsibility for calling and briefing their boss, David Pettigrew, who was the Special Agent in Charge of the Seattle field office.
“What’d he have to say?” Katarina asked when Brody returned from using the phone at Zophiel’s house.
“The usual. More worried about someone talking to the press than anything else.”
They were standing on the edge of the ravine, watching the NTSB investigators move out from the crashed plane in a grid search. Every few steps, one of them would bend and insert a small, brightly colored flag with a unique number into the soft ground, then make a notation on a small tablet computer.
“And he wants the cash brought out and secured as soon as forensics releases it,” Brody continued. “There’s a team on the way to pick it up.”
“Lot of money,” Katarina said, not trusting herself to look at him.
“Doesn’t feel right,” Brody said, startling her.
“What?”
“This. If it turns out the pilot is our unidentified vic, how did The Reaper find him? We’re supposed to believe this poor bastard had the bad luck to crash his plane at the same time and place where a serial killer just happened to be looking for a victim?”
“I had the same thought,” Katarina said, even though she hadn’t. “But if this isn’t related to our victim, why is all that cash still sitting here? There wasn’t a body in the plane, so the pilot must have survived. You don’t think he’d come back for the money?”
“Don’t know,” Brody admitted, lighting a cigarette. “Maybe he was hurt and wandered off. Go almost any direction and there’s nothing but unforgiving terrain. Real easy to get lost out here. Bears and mountain lions in the area, too. What the hell? For all we know, he wound up being dinner for the little woodland creatures. All I know for sure is that there’s no way someone’s going to walk away and forget about all that money.”
