by Jon Mills
“Hold overnight? We have my daughter’s cell phone found at his cabin.”
“We’ve taken prints but until we have a match or your daughter shows up, it’s all circumstantial right now, Ben. I’m sorry.”
Dakota walked into the room. Ben took off his suit jacket, never once taking his eyes off Douglas who was looking down. For a moment Ben just stared at him, observing his body movement, his mannerisms. The way he picked at his nails and sniffed as though he was going to walk.
“How did you come to have my daughter’s cell phone at your cabin?”
He glanced up. His eyes darted nervously between Ben and Dakota.
“Someone must have placed it there. I didn’t take it. I certainly didn’t take your daughter.”
“And the flask it was found in?” Ben didn’t say it was a cocktail shaker on purpose.
He shrugged. “I’m as confused as you are. Like I told Danvers I went out of town to see a friend.”
“Why?”
“We went through training at the same time. I hadn’t caught up with him in a while.”
“But why now when this investigation is going on?”
“I’m not an investigator. Just a park ranger.”
Ben paced around the room slowly.
“Why did you turn yourself in?”
He shrugged and raised his hands. “Someone told me the police were looking for me.”
“Who?”
“Ted Bishop.”
“So you have no idea of how that cell phone ended up in your cabin.”
“Nope.”
“Is there anyone else who uses your cabin?”
“Yeah, Ted. Any animals that we bring back from hunting we skin there.”
“You mentioned you did some hunting in Vassalboro. That’s two hours away. You don’t skin them there?”
“No. As you probably could tell from the basement. It creates quite a mess.”
“Why do it inside?”
“Why not?”
“Give me the address of the place in Vassalboro.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know it.”
“You hunt there but you don’t know the address?”
“It’s in the middle of privately owned farmland. Ted drives.”
Ben placed his hands on the table, inhaled deeply, and leaned in.
“What is the address?”
“I told you I don’t know.”
“Of course.” He blew his cheeks out, straightened up, and in a matter of seconds shot around the table, grabbed hold of Douglas, threw him up against the wall, and was shaking him as Dakota tried to get him off.
“Listen up, you dumb fuck. You’re gonna give me that address.”
“I don’t know it,” he yelled as Nate burst into the room along with Danvers. “Ted does.”
“Ben, let him go. Ben!” Nate shouted at him and Danvers struggled to pull him back. He was breathing hard and staring intently into Douglas’s eyes. Danvers still had hold of him. Ben shooed him off.
“Alright. Alright.”
“Get him out of here,” Danvers hollered.
“You aren’t prepared to do what is necessary.”
“Out,” Danvers yelled.
“Don’t worry, I’m gone.”
Ben grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and left the room. Dakota was on his heels. Outside he went and got some water. He swallowed hard and tossed the triangle paper cup at the trash.
“You gonna be okay?” Dakota asked.
Ben looked at her then at Nate.
“When I asked Ted if he knew about a property in Vassalboro, he told me he didn’t. Now one of them is lying and my money is on this freak.”
Nate ran a hand around the back of his head.
“Why don’t you go home, Ben? I’ll call you if there’s been any development.”
Ben scowled. “Would you, Nate? If it was your kid…”
Nate looked over at his shoulder and let out an exasperated sigh. The lights flickered, went off and then power came back on again.
“Look, the weather’s getting worse, there’s not much more we can do today.”
Ben began heading for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“His mother’s house.”
“I’m coming with you,” Dakota said.
Outside the rain was battering the ground, making every step treacherous. Ben and Dakota made a dash for the car. The rain plastered their hair against their foreheads and drenched their clothes in a matter of seconds.
Inside, Dakota shook her head. Ben turned over the ignition and let the windshield wipers do their job. It was blowing sideways so hard they could barely see a few feet in front of them.
“It doesn’t look as if it’s going to let up any time soon.”
Ben smashed his fist against the steering wheel, unleashing pent-up frustration, then looked up through the torrential downpour.
“Just give me one break. For god’s sake. That’s all I’m asking for.”
Chapter 41
Douglas Adams’s mother’s home looked derelict, abandoned, a real dump. Buried deep in two acres of pine forest, a long, winding dirt driveway led up to a round clearing. It was eight miles from Eden Falls Harbor. With the wind tearing through the forest and rain turning soil into a muddy slip and slide, Dakota and Ben shielded their faces. She had tried several times to reach Ted Bishop by phone to discuss the matter of the Vassalboro address but he wasn’t answering.
Ben swept the area with his flashlight.
“You know we need a search warrant,” Dakota said.
“Screw that.”
She wasn’t going to argue with him. Emotions were riding high and he’d already overstepped his boundaries. A few more wouldn’t make much difference. When they climbed the steps that led up to the front entrance, Dakota’s foot went through the weathered wooden steps.
Ben spun around. “You okay?”
“Just dandy.” She caught the railing just in time but her leg was grazed.
The place hadn’t been updated in years.
With Dakota hobbling behind him, they circled around until they got to the main door. Ben stood back and kicked it just off to the left of the lock. It didn’t move. One more and the frame groaned from the impact.
“I must have found the only piece of solid wood on the property,” he said right before he kicked it again. This time it burst open, wooden shrapnel exploded in every direction and the door hung awkwardly.
Both of their flashlights illuminated the inside of the dusty cabin. Dakota flipped the light switch up and down but nothing came on. It was hard to tell if the place had power or if the storm had knocked it out. They had to rely on the glow of their flashlights in order to see anything. All the furniture inside was covered in white sheets making it feel even more eerie than without.
A flash of sheet lighting, a few seconds of seeing clearly, then they were enveloped in darkness again. It was musty inside like a home that hadn’t been aired out in weeks. The entire place was made from cedar wood. It was commonly used on the island.
“It doesn’t even look lived in,” Ben said.
“Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to sell the property.”
“By the sound of the way she treated him you would think he would have demolished it.”
Dakota picked up a photo frame and blew off the dust. It was an image of a young Douglas with his mother. She looked strict. It was unlike most family photos where a parent would be hugging their child or smiling. They stood stoic in front of the camera, no contact between them.
She placed it down and moved her way around the furniture into the bedroom area. Everything was draped in cloth. She ran her fingers across the top of the sheet, picking up a thin layer of dust. These hadn’t been moved in months, maybe years. She coughed breathing in some of it. Ben was next door rooting through drawers.
She shone the light inside the closet, up into the corners. She ran her hand up around the top ledge but the
re was nothing except dust. On the rack above the clothes was a wicker box, to the side of that a brown towel and on the racks floral dresses. As she crouched down, her eyes drifted over three pairs of flat, sensible-looking shoes. The kind that were worn by women who weren’t looking to attract attention. She shifted them to the side to get a better look at something in the corner. It didn’t take her long to realize what it was when it shot out and scared her half to death.
It was a mouse. She let out a squeal and Ben came into the room and spotted the critter before it vanished into the woodwork. He chuckled.
“Glad you find it amusing. Find anything?”
“No, just a lot of junk, and large crucifixes.”
He went back out, and she pulled down the box. Inside was an old pocket watch. She flipped it open. The hands had stopped. Besides that, it contained a small purse of old coins and a Bible. She took it out and rubbed her hand over the leather exterior. It was an old King James.
She flipped it open and thumbed through the crinkled yellow paper. Small notes had been made in the margins in red. In the front was a handwritten note.
To Douglas,
Do what the Lord requires.
Mother.
Dakota’s mind drifted back to her childhood. She’d grown up in a religious family. They weren’t strict as much as they were hypocrites. Wearing one face on Sunday and another the rest of the week. Her mother drank hard and at times locked her in a room. Other times she was a sweet as pie. It was very Jekyll and Hyde. Her father was a minister, and her mother worked for a pregnancy crisis center. On the surface their lives were very idyllic. A good home, private schooling, and attending church every Sunday. But that was what the world saw. Behind the curtains, when all the crowds were gone, they were very different people. The need to preserve the façade of normality strained their marriage and by the time she was eleven her parents divorced.
Her mother took her and her younger sister and moved away. That’s when the drinking really kicked in.
Dakota snapped back to the present when her phone began buzzing in her pocket. She took it out. The faint blue screen lit up her face. It was Danvers. Ben continued looking around as she took the call.
“Where are you?” he sounded as if he was on the move.
“At Mrs. Adams’s residence.”
He exhaled hard. “What the hell are you doing there?”
“What do you think?”
There was a beat. “Oh my god, does this guy do anything by the book?” Danvers asked.
She walked back into the living area. Outside the wind howled, pushing branches against the window like gnarled fingers raking back and forth. She pulled at a sheet to reveal an old piano beneath. The key tops were worn and some missing entirely. She pressed down on one and it let out an out-of-tune clang that echoed.
“What do you need?” she asked.
Dakota could hear the sound of sirens and Danvers barking orders to the officer driving.
“We’ve got a ten thirty-three from an officer in need of assistance in the vicinity of Blackwoods Campground.” She heard the sound of a door slam. “A possible abduction. This could be our man.”
That was the police code for a chase in progress.
“We’re five minutes away.”
She hung up. Ben was coming up from the basement shaking his head.
“Possible abduction,” she said, thumbing over her shoulder. “We need to go.”
She didn’t need to convince him, he was out the door before she was. The wheels on the car squealed and mud splashed up the sides as they tore out of there.
Outside the wind was causing all manner of destruction. The weather had knocked down a power line. Wires hung awkwardly over the driveway, glowing orange sparks spat furiously from the top of a wooden post into the night.
“Did you find anything?”
“Nothing of use,” Ben replied despondently.
Chapter 42
Dakota’s dark blue Ford Crown Victoria burst into Blackwoods Campground almost losing control. Four cruisers flashing red and blue were already on scene. Two female officers were tending to a girl beneath a water-soaked porch. Beside them were three other women huddled together. It was chaotic from the moment they pushed out of the car.
Shouting, pointing, and complete noise from a vehicle with its siren still on.
Here we go. The snap of gunfire could be heard in the woods. There was no time to ask who was involved or what had happened. Both of them took off racing in the direction of where it was coming from, along with another officer.
The forest in the daytime was treacherous enough; one wrong footing and you could twist, or break an ankle. Now here they were sprinting beneath towering pines, down steep slopes, and over huge boulders. The only visibility came from flashlights and a crescent moon partially hidden behind dark clouds. The river and streams seemed louder than usual. With the amount of rain they’d had, it had caused the rivers to rise and turn the soil around into a landslide death trap.
“You see anything?” Dakota hollered.
Rain spilled off the top of Ben’s forehead into his eyes as he squinted. It was useless. It was pitch-black. Occasionally flashlight beams cut the darkness then they’d disappear behind the black trees and mounds of underbrush. That’s what made this place prime pickings for a madman. They could snatch a girl from a tent, or outside toilets, and disappear into the night without worry of being pursued. Hell, if Douglas had been responsible for taking the women, no one would have thought twice about being led away by a park ranger. But he was locked up, so who the hell had attempted to take another woman?
“Over here,” an officer shouted. Then another one yelled. It was all beginning to blur into one voice. Dakota headed in one direction while Ben went in the opposite. A bullet snapped and hit a tree close to Ben, his blood pressure shot up as he took cover behind a thick pine tree. His training had taught him not to start shooting wildly into the night. He had no way of knowing if it was an officer. This was exactly how friendly fire happened.
Satisfied that no more shots were being fired and driven by urgency, he continued running through the middle of the forest towards the sound of officers’ radios and shouting. They must have been pursuing him for ten minutes. A chopper was in the air over the forest. Its large beam of light swept ahead of him. When he crested a section and looked down at where flashlights were flickering, he could see officers converging in on a secluded cabin tucked deep in the forest.
Then he noticed two figures running towards the main entrance.
Ben could hear officers yelling and telling someone to put the gun down. Desperate to get close he lost his footing, pitched forward, and rolled down the embankment. He reached out frantically looking for some way to stop himself from colliding with a tree. There was nothing except moss, and granite stone. As he picked up speed, dirt found its way up his pant legs, in his mouth, and all over his face. Finally, as he searched for a way to slow his descent, he latched on to a tree root. Catching hold, he nearly tore his arm out of the socket.
Covered in wet earth he coughed, spitting a chunk of it out. Unhurt but battered and bruised, he scrambled to his feet and pushed on, cursing the forest under his breath.
He tried to brush off the grime and compose himself as he hustled over to the cabin and was met by a sight that made his heart sink. Dakota had been shot. She was still alive but in need of a medic. An officer told him he’d already called for EMS. Ben dropped down and gripped her hand.
“Don’t you go dying on me, Woods, remember, you still owe me a beer.”
She coughed and smirked slightly at the sight that was before her.
“You look like shit,” she said, groaning.
“Yeah, I think I might have swallowed some.”
That only made her groan more.
The bullet had torn through her left shoulder. It didn’t look critical but they would need to stop the bleeding. One of the officers was applying pressure as more gunfire erupte
d. This time it came from inside the house.
“I’ll be back.” Ben charged towards the house with his eyes on the front of his gun sight. Equal height, equal light, he muttered instinctively. He'd done it ever since he learned to fire a gun. It just became part of readying himself, just the way he checked if it was loaded. It referred to shooting in exact alignment. Making the front sight even with the top of the rear sight had become second nature — something he didn’t even think about, but it always went through his head each time he pulled his piece.
Following behind an officer, he entered the cabin and was met by the sight of Ted Bishop’s lifeless body. Off to one side was a sick and twisted mask that was white and molded to look like an old man. A trap door was open and an amber light came up from it.
The officer pointed. “The chief and two other officers are already down there.”
Ben didn’t waste a second, he moved past the body, glancing at his bandaged arm. He carefully made his way down the wooden ladder. The hole was wide enough for one person. It went down about thirty feet before he landed on rocky ground. The smell of human flesh, mold, and stone permeated the air. Small lights hung every few feet. Loose stone crunched beneath his boots as he made his way along the makeshift tunnel. The sides and top were covered in wooden planks bolted into the stone to support it from caving in. Ben placed a handkerchief to his mouth and nose as he entered a space where the ceilings were higher. It didn’t look as if it had been made by tools. Some areas were smooth as though they had been naturally formed. Much of the landscape on Mount Desert Island was a combination of mud, sand, and volcanic rock.
The first room he saw off to his left was full of taxidermy products, tools, and two of the same masks that matched the one Ted had been wearing. He didn’t linger there, his eyes were set on the rooms. Chloe? He moved down through them. Two officers had already opened the doors. He rushed along, desperately hoping that the next would hold Chloe. But none of them had women in them. They were empty. Only a single bed with a small table in each one.
