Buddy had gotten to go home.
The world was full of high places, sharp objects, fast cars. Candace was going to be exceedingly difficult to keep alive. Buddy hadn't ended. Buddy was still going to kill her.
"Beth! Beth!"
It was Heath Jarrod shouting. Anna was pulled back from that place where death was the greatest good. She pushed to her feet. "Don't look at him," she ordered, but Candace could not look away.
Anna grabbed her upper arm in the same hard pincer grip her mater-nal grandmother had used to propel her and Molly from place to place, the kind of grip that left no bruise but poked painfully into the hollow between muscle and bone. "Let's go. Up."
Candace peeled herself from the asphalt, her eyes on Buddy's till ele-vation caused the rear bumper to block him from sight. When the last of him, the final staring ruby eye, slipped beneath the hulk of RV, Candace was freed from the trance. Her head wobbled like that of a foolish dash-board doll and she turned, finally, to look at Anna.
She'd been freed of the trance, not of the spell. No gratitude and little recognition were reflected in her face. Only a sense of waiting.
"So wait here," Anna said, answering her own thoughts. Taking a deep breath as if for a forty-foot free-dive, she squatted down. For the briefest of moments she did not look under the vehicle. She was afraid Buddy would be gone. Or not gone. Afraid he'd reach out like a nightmare beast beneath the bed and drag her under by her ankles. "Damn you," she whis-pered, and lunged beneath the chassis, snatched the loaded SIG Sauer from where it had fallen from his hand, and backed out quickly.
Buddy was the only dead person she'd ever met that Anna didn't trust.
Candace waited.
All this had taken less than half a minute, the time between Heath's last "Beth!" and now her demand: "Find Beth." Along with this shout came the low drone of hydraulics and the scrabble and leap of Wiley jumping off the lowering chair lift.
"Hey," Anna said.
"Hey," Heath replied. "Beth?"
Anna turned and pointed. Beth had been running past Candace as she put the gun in her mouth. With a startling])' focused part of her eye-to-brain circuitry, as Anna had knocked Candace to the ground she'd noted Beth ducking behind a hunter green Chevy minivan.
Heath didn't even glance toward the RV's undercarriage where her wheels rested on the spine of Buddy but, with a push that elicited a grunt and left what looked in the harsh light of the morning sun to be traces of blood on the wheel of her chair, rolled in the direction Anna pointed, call-ing Beth's name.
Decency, sanity, life began to return to the parking lot. Beth ran to Heath. Wiley looked on with canine delight. Sharon and Alexis, having found one another, returned warily from the protective cover of the woods and reunited with Patty. Anna, feeling a heel but doing it for the child's own safety, locked Candace in the back of her patrol car, then radioed dispatch.
Ambulances, rangers, both the useful and the curious, arrived: the superintendent, the assistant superintendent, Lorraine Knight, one of the other district rangers. A team was sent to Fern Lake Cabin to collect evidence, though between them, Heath and Anna had mitigated the necessity for a trial.
Responsibilities lifted, shifted. From a lead actor in the play, Anna became a prop that more important characters moved around according to their own requirements. She answered questions, described routes, detailed injuries.
As the only truck with toilet, refrigerator, beds and running water, the RV became the de facto convalescent hospital and interview room.
Before this benevolent incarnation, the RV, in its Christine aspect, had been carefully driven off the corpse. Buddy Ray Stephen. Anna had watched him being zipped into a black body bag. Before the plastic closed over his face he'd given her one last dead-alive glare. Anna had winked. They would meet again in one guise or another. When that came to pass, she again intended to be the last one standing.
Freed from the paralyzing influence of Buddy Ray Stephen, the girls poured their stories out in a torrent. Not the gory details-for which Anna, in her cowardice, was grateful-but the main points.
Ranger Ray lured them to Fern Lake Cabin by telling them he was doing a survey on park use by young campers and would they help by fill-ing out questionnaires. Of course they would, being good girls. On the pretense of giving each private space, he put one in each room. Starting with Alexis, he bound and gagged them with duct tape.
For the first week or more he kept them in a hole formed by piled boulders a quarter mile from the group campsite on the far side of the lake. When he moved them to or from this prison they were blindfolded. He led them up and down hills, in circles, then told them they were miles into the wilderness, no one would hear them shout or whimper or cry. No one but him. He said he'd sneak back at different times and listen; if he heard a peep it would be a very bad thing.
Buddy had been as good as his word.
They remained bound and gagged except when they ate or he was with them. The entrance to their hole he kept sealed with what sounded to Anna to be a three-quarter-inch piece of plywood cut into a couple feet on a side and wedged in place by the trunk of a downed pine cut to length for the purpose.
He told them if any one of them tried to escape he'd kill the others and their deaths would be the fault of she who disobeyed. He told them the police would arrest the survivor for murder. The cops would believe whatever he said. He was a ranger. Then, he told them, he would murder their families.
After a while he said he'd made them a new home and he moved
them, again blindfolded, to beneath Fern Lake Cabin. During the height of the search, the three of them had been moved back to their boulder prison. The last time, for reasons of his own, Buddy had moved only Beth and Alexis, keeping Candace with him at the cabin. It had rained hard that night and the wind had blown in fierce gusts. The log wedge shifted and the plywood fell away.
Alexis said it was an hour or two before they had the courage to crawl out. Once they'd put some distance between themselves and Fern Lake it was an easy matter to rub tears in the duct tape and free their hands and mouths. Even in their stone prison it could have been done but the knowledge that Buddy could return at any moment, that no one would hear if they yelled, that the door was sealed and there was no other way out, that any damage to the tape would bring swift and brutal retribution, kept them from the attempt.
The hike out took that night and all the next day. Afraid Buddy would find them on the trails, they walked cross-country, shoeless, in their under-wear. A lot of the time they were lost. Near the end they reached Bear Lake Road. Fearful Buddy would look for them on a road, they crossed it and hid in the woods, following the creek till Wiley found them above the handicamp.
There'd been plenty of time for the two of them to plan the survival strategy. They'd disobeyed. Candace was dead, they'd killed her. Nothing would be gained by telling what had happened to them. No one would believe them. They'd be sent to prison. Buddy would take Sharon, Patty, Beth's mom and he would hurt them, kill them.
Beth had nearly broken the agreement and told Heath. Heath, she said in a way that cut Anna to the heart, would have believed. But then Buddy Ray came to the hospital. He'd seen Heath in the wheelchair. He told Beth what he could do to a crippled woman, what he would do after he made her torture and kill her dog, if Beth talked.
The tale was quick to tell. Much as Anna appreciated having the gaps filled in, she was relieved when it was over. Beth and Alexis weren't done talking-and for that she was glad if the words gushing out cleansed
them of any small part of the poisons they would carry with them as long as they lived-but they'd exhausted what remaining strength they had in the telling. Anna had been nearly as worn in the listening. The evil Budd} had done was living after him. If it was true, and the good was interred with his bones, she doubted the undertaker would need to dig any bigger a hole.
Arms around one another, the girls fell asleep on Gwen's bed with the suddenness of infants.
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Sharon poured both Anna and Heath hefty doses of medicine, dry and red and welcome even before breakfast.
Heath sat outside in her chair beside the partially raised hydraulic lift. Anna sat on the lift itself, her feet swinging free of the ground.
"Wiley's on the bed with the girls," Heath said. "You're not supposed to let work dogs sleep on the bed but it seemed important to the limpet."
Anna nodded, wishing Taco was here, wishing she had a dog to sleep with. Remembering the new kitten, she felt better. It wasn't good to sleep alone when death was still on your skin, in your hair.
''Thanks for saving my life," Anna said. Vehicular homicide was more common than people might think, and one of the hardest murders to solve. Anna doubted this one would ever make it to trial. No pros-ecutor would want to try and convince a jury that a paraplegic woman- who'd saved the lives of two, possibly three, children and a federal law enforcement officer from the likes of Buddy Ray Stephen-should be put behind bars.
"You're most welcome," Heath said politely. A minute ticked by. The two of them sat in the full glory of the morning sun watching the efficient bustle of park personnel and the eager curiosity of the visitors vying for space. Emily and Ryan, two of Anna's rangers, had finished with Candace. They closed up their orange bags and came toward the RV.
"I thought he was aiming at the limpet," Heath admitted while the emergency medical technicians were still out of earshot. "It was her I was saving. I'm sorry."
"I'm still grateful. Being lagniappe isn't a bad thing."
"Lan-yap?"
"A word they use in the South. A little something extra for free.
"How is she?" Anna asked as Ryan set his bag on the lift beside her.
"Sedated. On an IV of normal saline. She needs to get to a psychia-trist, a doctor and a McDonald's. Kid's a mess, all skin and bone. Janet's sitting with her." Seeing Anna's ignorance, he filled in: "Janet's in admin but she used to be a psych nurse. Dispatch asked her to come when they heard what you had here."
Despite their pervasiveness and ugliness, both Heath's and Anna's wounds were superficial: scratches, bruises, abrasions, blisters. The gouges from the wire Candace had stabbed her with and the cuts from the paring knife were the worst Anna had suffered. Four of them were deep enough, cleaning them was a seriously unpleasant experience; but all were close-able with butterfly bandages, though Emily warned they'd leave scars if Anna didn't get them sutured in the next few hours.
At quarter till eight, Chief Ranger Knight made her way to where they sat, bandaged and wrapped in warm blankets.
"You have wine," she accused, sniffing the air.
"We are important people," Anna said.
"I'll pour you a cup," Sharon offered from within the RV
"Coffee," Lorraine pleaded and rested one buttock on the lift. "You two have been busy little bees," she said.
"It's been a long night," Anna admitted.
"Long," Heath echoed.
"We're about done with you. You can both go home and sleep a couple days. Lord knows you've earned it." Lorraine looked across the parking lot, her blue eyes squinting against the early sun, her long hair afire with it. There was more gray in the red than Anna remembered from Yosemite. Both of them had had way too many adventures in too short a time. Two days sleeping sounded inviting.
Soon, Anna promised herself.
"What a mess." Lorraine watched the ambulance with the body roll away. The second ambulance, the park's old standby, called the Ghost Buster for reasons lost in antiquity, was just loading up. It would carry two law enforcement EMTs and Candace Watson. Buddy had done his work well. The child had been made a danger to herself and others. Anna wished she could nail her into a crate and mail her to Molly's Park Avenue clinic. If anyone could mend her, her sister could. Maybe some-thing could be worked out. Molly did some pro bono work. Anna made a mental note to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Watson. A sudden thought startled her.
"Is there a Mr. and Mrs. Watson? Does the kid have folks? I've seen neither hide nor hair of them."
"She has a brother, much older," Lorraine said. "He's apprenticing or going to seminary or being indoctrinated or whatever these guys do in their sister compound in Canada. We looked at him for the disappear-ance but nothing came of it."
"He never came down?"
"He sent his prayers," Lorraine said noncommittally.
A snort came from the direction of Heath's chair. "Who looks after her?"
"The community, I guess. Everyone. No one."
Efficiently tending to business, the green-and-gray at its best was soothing, and for a bit the three women watched in silence.
Heath broke it first. "What now?"
"In cases like these that's a bitch of a question," Lorraine admitted. "If you two hadn't... If the perpetrator hadn't died, we could satisfy our-selves with crime and punishment. As it is we're left with only victims, pain that may never heal and dysfunction that might not be illegal. If Alexis sticks to her promise to testify, Dwayne Sheppard will be tried and probably convicted by the baby's DNA on the charge of having illegal sex with a minor. They'll charge him with child molestation, obstruction of justice, littering-whatever the DA can get to stick. My guess is the rest of the 'patriarchs' and their harems will melt away, form another enclave or join a sister group somewhere, before the investigation spills over onto them. They may already be packing. Sheppard might be too. Cut his losses and disappear with what he's still got."
"Sharon's old enough to get legal custody of her sisters," Anna said. "Whether that's a job she's psychologically prepared to take on is any-body's guess."
"She's stronger than you'd think," Heath put in. 'And there's a dad."
Both rangers looked at her in surprise. "I've had a lot of time on my hands," Heath said. "Or maybe I should say on my butt."
"Good work," Lorraine said. "You going to follow up with those three?" The chief ranger wasn't being lazy; it was that park jurisdiction ended when the girls were found. Human services took over from there. Or Colorado law enforcement. Apparently Lorraine had more confidence in the compassion and free time at Heath Jarrod's disposal.
"Yeah," Heath replied. "Yeah, I guess I am. What about the limpet7 Beth? What happens to her?"
Anna could tell this was the question closest to Heath's heart. That was probably why she saved it for last, waited as long as she could that she might keep her hopes up even if only for a few moments longer.
Enjoying the luxury of emotional cowardice, Anna let Lorraine answer.
"She goes home. We've got nothing on Mrs. Dwayne. no signs of abuse that would justify removing her to foster care. Nothing. \ hatever happens to Beth is between her and her parents."
"I'm pretty sure Mrs. Dwayne was the first Mrs. Sheppard," Heath said. "I'm guessing it's the one legal marriage and Sheppard is legallv Beth's father."
Anna was relieved to hear rock-bottom reality in Jarrod's tone. She'd known the answer to her question before she'd asked it, prepared herself for the inevitable. Out of respect for Heath's grief, Anna said nothing. Once again she had underestimated the woman. Heath was not so much mourning her loss as plotting to avert it.
"Should Sheppard get sent to prison, would it be locally;1"
Lorraine thought a bit. "I'd guess so," she said at last. "This is going to be state, not federal."
"Mrs. Dwayne thinks her husband is God's testicles," Heath mused. "She'll stick close. From what I've seen of her, she's lazy and greedy. Dollars to doughnuts we can work something out that'll give me time with my limpet."
Anna raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question.
"There's Jarrod family money/' Heath explained.
'Ah." Heath was undoubtedly right. Mrs. Dwayne could be bought, and probably fairly cheaply.
"What will you do?" Anna asked, because she'd genuinely come to care about the woman.
"Physical therapy first," Heath replied. "I sort of let that slide. I have a feeling I'm going to need all the strength I c
an get for this little adven-ture. You?"
"Same old, same old."
The hard-edged chuff of air being cut swelled over the trees and a neat dragonfly-like helicopter set down in the middle of the parking lot.
"My ride," Lorraine said. "Take a week off. Go home to your new husband."
"Wait." Anna pushed herself off the chair lift. Each and every aggra-vated cell in her corpus had stiffened during the long sit. Now they seized, ached, cramped or screamed. Anna let none of it show in her stance or taint her voice. "Let me go with you to recover Rita's body." She hadn't meant to plead but had been less successful at keeping it out of her voice than she had keeping out the pain.
Nevada Barr - Anna Pigeon 13 - Hard Truth Page 33
