Dead Man's Lake (The Braddock & Gray Case Files Book 5)

by H. P. Bayne

  Brinks paled but quickly recovered. “Right. Nice try. I keep the office locked up whenever I’m out.”

  “And you always leave the key in the same place. Under the passenger side floor mat in Truck 1. All I had to do was wait until you left the site in your own vehicle instead of the truck and make sure no one else was around to see me. I caught some pretty interesting conversations between you and that Calypso asshole, plus some juicy emails back and forth with the government guy you two have been buying off.”

  Brinks shook his head. “No way in hell you hacked my email.”

  “You never sign out. All I needed to do is get into your computer. Password for the computer in the main office is Brinks2. I took a chance you’d have gone with Brinks1. You’re really horrible with passwords, you know that?”

  “What are you looking to get out of this, huh? You after money? I can get you money.”

  “I had money!” Waterford yelled. “This here, this was supposed to be my way out! I was going to stop your government deal to buy myself more time to find it. And I figured if I could burn you once and for all in the process, great. Then I could take Walter’s loot and go live a great life somewhere. Only I never found it. Not all of it. Now I don’t have a choice. I’ve got to end this here.”

  “Is that how you ended up here today?” Dez asked. “You listened in on the conversation between us and Brinks in his office earlier?”

  Waterford nodded. “Yep. And no way in hell am I letting this asshole get anywhere near my money.”

  “Your money? How the hell do you figure on it being yours?”

  Dez spun at the sound of a dry laugh from nearby and found himself facing Marvin Poller and a puffing Sully.

  “That money doesn’t belong to either of you assholes,” Marvin said. “It’s mine.”

  Sully had taken a second to size up Dez and Lachlan, assuring himself they were okay. Now, with those words from the man beside him, he turned widened eyes on Marvin. “What are you talking about?”

  “The money you’re all referring to belongs to me. And none of you bastards are putting your hands on it.”

  “The hell you talking about?” Brinks asked. Then to Lachlan, “Who is this jerk?”

  Marvin studied Brinks for a moment and levelled his rifle at him. “I’m the jerk who owns that money. I put a lot into getting my hands on it. No way in hell anyone’s touching it.”

  The filmy figure of Walter McCrory appeared near Marvin, milky eyes fixed on him. Sully felt it, the anger bubbling inside the spirit as the truth dawned.

  Sully dragged his eyes from Walter to Marvin’s rifle to Marvin himself. “You robbed the bank?”

  “Long time ago. I was a different person back then—quite literally. I’m not proud of what I done, but I went to a lot of effort pulling off that heist. What I’ve got, I earned. These pricks think they can just walk in and take it. Just like Walter.”

  “It wasn’t Brinks or Waterford,” Sully said. “It was you. Why?”

  Below, Waterford shifted the gun in his hands. Marvin let off a shot, putting it just to the side of Waterford. Waterford yelped and dropped the gun. Lachlan started to reach for it, but Marvin gave a shout stopping him.

  “Uh-uh. Leave the gun right there. First one to reach for it ends up with a hole through him.”

  Sully eyed Marvin’s rifle again. Though not the newest model out there, it was loaded with a clip that held at least a few rounds—enough for him to take down everyone here if he wanted to. Combined with the newfound realization he’d murdered Walter, it was clear Sully would have to play this very carefully.

  “Marvin?” he asked. “Why’d you kill Walter?”

  He sensed rather than saw Forbes positioning himself among the rocks nearby, lining up a shot at Marvin. He only hoped the situation would maintain itself until Marvin revealed the truth.

  “Same reason you assholes need to die. I came up here to find somewhere to lie low and stash my money, somewhere I could draw from it as need be. It was too much to bury, but I thought I had a solution in this cabin right here. When I first started, I had it in my head Walter was going to stick to the cabin on the other side of the lake. The place over there is newer and nicer, and I’d seen him put his stuff there. Never occurred to me he planned on using this one too. Hell, when we started, he always asked me to take care of this side. I’d never seen him over here at all.

  “I started to bury the bundles of bills one by one in the dirt floor along the edges of the place, making sure they were wrapped watertight first. But that was going to take me forever. I found an old trunk in there, seemed pretty watertight, and I stashed the bulk of it inside. Figured I’d draw from it as needed. I had the trunk shoved back along the wall and a bunch of crap piled in front of it. And the fact there was no sign of anyone ever visiting the place made me think it was safe there.”

  He paused to spit on the ground to his left. “Never occurred to me the bastard used both cabins. Came here one night after I lost a wad on the ponies, looking for money to put down the next day to make it up. Found McCrory digging through the trunk, all wide-eyed, like he’d just found pirate treasure.”

  “He kind of did,” Lachlan said.

  Sully expected Marvin to bristle at that, but he grinned. “Guess I am sort of a pirate. A modern-day pirate. Most of what I did up to then was small beans—residential burglaries mainly. The bank job, that was the big one, and it was the last. My retirement job. Spent six months planning it out, made sure to pick a place with minimal security, even paid off a couple of people on the inside to help me. Bank manager was a dick, and the pay was lousy. It wasn’t hard. My favourite tricks were to find a place without panic alarms built in yet and to pay someone to fake a 911 call. Bought me extra time before the cops rolled in.” He stood a little straighter and smiled. “No one could pull that off today. Didn’t even fire a single shot.”

  Sully stared at the side of Marvin’s head, amazed at his obvious pride over what he’d done. “At least until Walter.”

  Marvin cast him a glance. “Walter wasn’t all that much. No one even missed him when he was gone. And imagine my amusement when I found out he was a suspect in the robbery.” He shook his head. “What are the chances?”

  “So what’s the plan here, Marvin?” Dez asked. “You really think you’re going to kill all of us? Then what? I mean, Walter didn’t have any family or friends, so no one reported him missing. Not going to happen with us.”

  “I know I’ll have to cover my tracks. I can do it. I’ve got enough money left for me to disappear all over again.”

  Not for the first time since he’d been standing here, Sully gauged the distance to Marvin, wondering if he could make it those few steps and tackle him before he could use the rifle on anyone.

  “In case you haven’t noticed,” Brinks said. “We’ve still got a gun down here. The second you start shooting, one of us will grab it.”

  Sully wanted to smack him, and judging by the frown on Dez’s face, so did he.

  “I realize that, you moron,” Marvin said. He gestured toward Brinks with the business end of the rifle. “Pick it up by the barrel and bring it toward me. When you’re close enough, toss it. Anything funny, you die, get it?”

  Flushing, Brinks heaved a sigh and picked up the handgun as directed. Sully returned to studying Marvin. His eyed were fixed on Brinks. Sully guessed he could make the tackle before Marvin had time to turn and fire at him. The biggest worry was that his gun would discharge in the process, potentially hitting someone by the cabin.

  It was a big enough worry to stall Sully. He needed a distraction, something to draw Marvin’s attention.

  A shout from behind him gave him one.

  “Police! Drop the gun!”

  Marvin wheeled toward Forbes’s voice, letting off a shot in the process. A second gunshot sounded, this one, Sully guessed, from Forbes.

  A fine red mist exploded from the edge of Marvin’s left tricep, and he grunted.

 
Then, rifle still in hand, he turned and ran.

  25

  Sully heard several people—Dez’s booming voice unquestionably the loudest—shout his name as he turned and sprinted after Marvin.

  Chasing an armed man who’d already admitted to murder was a stupid idea, but something pushed him onward. Thoughts and feelings he knew weren’t fully his own coursed through him, and Sully reminded himself these no doubt belonged to Walter. While seeing ghosts was the most obvious part of his gift, it came with the often-unenviable ability to channel a spirit’s feelings from a distance, as well as their thoughts when their energies connected. Often, this came in handy during investigations.

  As he ran headlong through the woods behind an admitted killer, he recognized this as one of the downsides of his abilities.

  He couldn’t see Walter anymore, with his attention on Marvin. While the man was remarkably fast for someone his age and build—let alone someone with a gunshot wound—his panic had no doubt given him wings.

  The lake lay ahead, its ice-covered surface visible through the trees. Sully’s foot snagged on something, and he fell hard but scrambled up quickly and continued on. Though he’d lost sight of Marvin as the woods temporarily thickened around him, he knew where he was going. Knew because Walter was growing stronger.

  The lake. The ghost drew his power from the ice, after all.

  Sully sprinted onward, arms up to keep the branches from whipping his face and neck. He reached a shallow bank and slid down, then rushed headlong through the remaining few trees until the lake opened out before him.

  A shot cracked from the rifle. Bark from the tree next to Sully’s shoulder exploded out, pelting his coat sleeve.

  He ducked, staying low as he forced himself to play this more cautiously. Walter might be egging him on, but the ghost couldn’t be killed by Marvin twice. Sully, on the other hand, had plenty to lose.

  Somewhere behind him, he heard movement in the woods and knew Dez and possibly others were following. The stakes changed again. Dez, after all, made for a bigger target for Marvin’s gun.

  Sully cast his eye over the lake and spotted Marvin still on the run ahead and to the left, keeping close to shore. The parking area lay ahead, a short run across the lake and up a path. There, Marvin would find his truck and escape. And Walter would be left out in the cold for another year, only to return stronger and angrier next winter.

  Sully ran forward, trying his best to keep low, ensuring he remained inside of the tree line. The woods weren’t as dense here, but Sully hoped the challenge of hitting a moving target combined with the few obstacles would buy him some measure of safety.

  What he’d do when he actually caught up to Marvin, he wasn’t sure. Tackle him, maybe, if he could catch him by surprise. Otherwise … he had no idea. Not yet, anyway.

  The thicket of willows coming into view ahead screwed things up. They stood just this side of the path between the lake—very near to where Adam Charles’s fishing hole was located—and the parking area.

  Ahead, Marvin was flagging, his movements no longer classifiable as running. What’s more, the rifle had shifted position, now being used as a makeshift cane. If Sully had tripped, good chance Marvin had too.

  Unusual was that despite the fact Marvin was now on the ice, Sully still couldn’t see Walter. But he could feel him, great swells of rage coming at him like storm-fuelled ocean waves breaking against a rocky shore.

  Behind him, the movement was nearer, louder. So close Sully distinctly made out the sound of Dez’s huffed breaths.

  Sully left the shelter of the trees and ran along the willows’ edge, hoping he could dive through should Marvin swing the business end of the rifle in his direction.

  He was now rapidly outpacing Marvin, near enough to him, he could easily cut off his path to the parking area. Laying on a burst of speed, he did so, cutting the older man off at the pass.

  “Far enough, Marvin,” Sully puffed out. “It’s over.”

  Marvin’s breath came in heaving rasps, whistling through his windpipe in an unhealthy sounding way. His sleeve was saturated in blood while his posture and the sweat rolling down his reddened face suggested he wanted nothing so much as to lie down. It said something for his need to escape that he lifted the rifle toward Sully instead.

  “Drop it!” came a booming call from Dez a short distance away.

  Marvin’s attention and aim shifted for a moment, fixing on Dez, now standing at the edge of the trees on the other side of the willows. Dez held a handgun steady in firing position—not Forbes’s black polymer piece but the nickel-plated weapon Brinks had wielded. Marvin was clearly held in his sites, but Sully wasn’t certain about the handgun’s accuracy at that distance. Though Dez had stopped moving as Marvin took aim at him, he appeared no less dangerous, his expression dark, hands steady.

  “I said drop it!”

  “You drop it!” Marvin said. “I’ve got the rifle. I can hit you no problem.”

  Sully took a step toward Marvin, the crunchy snow beneath his feet preventing stealth. Marvin spun back toward him.

  “Or I can hit him,” Marvin said.

  “I so much as see your hand twitch, I’m putting you down,” Dez returned. “Drop the gun. Now!”

  The power in Dez’s voice had no doubt encouraged many a suspect to surrender during his policing days. Not Marvin, though. He shifted his aim back and forth, ensuring he could cover both of them.

  Sully estimated he had about twenty feet to cover if he was going to tackle Marvin—not far and yet much too far. The time it took him to get there, Marvin could aim and fire. And from this range with no cover, Sully was almost certain to be shot.

  “Sully, stay where you are,” Dez said, as if reading his mind. Then to Marvin, “Put the gun down!”

  Marvin didn’t put it down, instead putting more distance between himself and them. “I’m not. Go to hell!”

  He took a few more steps backward, his eyes flitting between Dez and Sully. Perhaps he thought he was working his way toward the south shore, but his steps instead took him at a diagonal, south and west—farther from the eastern bank. Keep going that way and he’d eventually reach thinner sections of ice. Already, it had opened up substantially toward the more central part of the lake, and water lapped gently there against the lingering ice.

  Marvin was oblivious, his focus entirely on the human rather than the natural threat. Sully decided he should warn the man. “Marvin, stop. You’ve got nowhere to go.”

  Marvin shook his head. “Fuck you. Stay back.”

  “I’m not moving,” Sully said. “Let’s just talk for a minute, all right?”

  Marvin laughed. “You’re joking.” He whirled again toward Dez. “Stay back!”

  Dez stalled. At least for the moment, the rifle remained on him. But he’d gained ground, easily putting him in range for an accurate pistol shot as he drew ever nearer to Sully.

  Marvin took another few steps backward. Somewhere near his feet, a crack sounded.

  “Marvin, the ice,” Sully warned.

  But he was beyond reason, flight response having overtaken any logic he might ordinarily have possessed.

  Another few steps, Sully guessed, would put him right over Adam’s former fishing hole.

  Sully tried again. “Marvin—”

  “Shut up! Get back, both of you! Just get back!”

  Dez reached Sully, taking a couple of extra steps to act as a shield. Dez in his way, Sully could only hear Marvin’s startled cry coupled with the sound of ice breaking. He peered around Dez’s arm to see Marvin struggling, right leg having broken through the fishing hole.

  The same hole through which, not so long ago, Walter had grabbed Sully and tried to tow him under.

  Walter was using the rifle in a different way now, stock end down as he hammered at something beneath the ice.

  “Let go!” he screamed. “Let go!”

  A heavy crack sounded around him. The ice heaved. Walter had found his target and he wa
sn’t about to release him.

  Sully ducked around Dez and started toward Marvin. He didn’t get far, Dez’s arms acting as a snare to grab him and hold him back.

  “Sully, no!”

  “Walter’s going to kill him!”

  “The ice is breaking. It’s too dangerous.”

  Sully strained against Dez. The effort was futile. “We have to try!”

  Dez gave him a solid, painful squeeze beneath the ribcage that got his attention. “Are you listening to me? The ice is breaking, and the ghost is too strong.”

  Sully had one chance left. He focused in on the ghost, preparing to draw him toward himself. Before he had the chance, the ice gave way. Marvin, with one final shriek, fell through.

  Sully watched the scene through wide eyes, waiting to see if Marvin would struggle to resurface. But he didn’t.

  Dez’s voice sounded in his ear. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Sully patted Dez on the hand. “Don’t be. You saved my life. If you hadn’t grabbed me, I would have been over there when …” He didn’t finish the statement, didn’t need to.

  Dez finally released him. They stood there silently for a minute, each watching as the water visible through the breaks in the ice gradually stilled into glass-like calm.

  “We should get back,” Dez said. “Forbes and Lachlan were guarding Brinks and Waterford.”

  His voice sounded dead, and Sully turned to meet his eye. “You okay?”

  Dez nodded and scrubbed a hand down his face as if wiping something away. “Just remembering what happened to you when we were kids. Wasn’t a good day. This isn’t a good day, either.”

  “Not for us,” Sully said. “Definitely not for Marvin. I don’t see Walter.”

  “Which means what, exactly?”

  “What just happened seems awful to us, but as far as whatever powers in the universe dictate these things, it wasn’t unjust. I guess Walter’s got his justice and Marvin’s received his comeuppance.”

  “Or, if hell exists, his come-downance.”