Cold Case

by Stephen White

  "Right after… Mariko… fell, Tami moaned. It was just a weak little cry, but it was enough to tell me that my baby wasn't really dead. Phil said it couldn't be, told me I was hearing things. But I knew what I heard and I, I wanted to call an ambulance. But Phil, he pushed me out of the way, wouldn't let me go help my daughter. I fought him to get to her or to get to the phone but he held me back and made me look at Mariko's… body. He unplugged the phone cord from the wall. He kept saying, "Look at her. She's dead. What are we going to do about that? I can fix a lot of things. I can't fix dead, Cathy." He made me think through what we'd done. He wanted me to put a pillow over my baby's face until she stopped breathing. I fought him I did but finally he told me he'd kill me, too, if I didn't shut up and cooperate. When I wouldn't do it myself, he threw me down on the other side of the room. That's when he smothered her with a pillow from the sofa."

  "You saw him do that?" I asked.

  She looked away and tightened her hands into fists. Her lips moved twice before the next words came from her mouth.

  "No. I couldn't see from where I was on the floor. But when he stood back up he was still holding the pillow. Phil was. And he was breathing real heavy."

  I didn't believe her. I suspected that she had indeed smothered her own daughter. The horror I was feeling was mirrored in Dell's eyes. In that instant I was certain he hadn't yet crossed whatever bridge he needed to cross in order to accept his wife's rationalization.

  Cathy's story wasn't complete, though. I asked, "And the mutilation, Cathy? How did that happen?"

  She slid her hand up Dell's arm until it came to a stop above his elbow.

  "All the rest was Phils idea. He planned it all in his head for half an hour or so.

  He just sat there and planned it all out. When he said he was going to cut off. my Tami's hand, I said I couldn't be a part of it anymore. That I wanted to turn myself in. He said if I said a word to anybody about what had happened that he'd make sure Joey was arrested for the rape and he'd make sure Dell knew about the affair."

  "What did you do?"

  "What was I supposed to do? What would be left for me if I didn't go along? I mean everything that had happened was just a terrible, terrible accident. If I didn't go along with Phil I'd have nothing-and I'd have nobody. I didn't really have a choice, did I? My Tami was already dead. If I told anybody what I knew, I'd lose my son, my husband, my whole family."

  Kimber voiced what I was thinking, what I was certain Dell must be thinking.

  Kimber said, "She was your daughter. How could you?"

  Cathy exhaled deeply and coughed as she tried to refill her lungs. I expected to hear another verse of the "terrible-terrible-accident, what-was-I-supposed-to-do" song, but she couldn't get any words out. Dell finally spoke.

  "Why did I want you to hear all this? So you would understand what Cathy did back then. In her mind what she did, she did to protect the kids.

  First she was helping Tami. Then, later on, Joey. With what he's done with his life since then, I think Joey has made all her sacrifice worthwhile." I was stunned by the words. For such a self-aware man, Dell Franklin had just engaged in a world-class rationalization of horror.

  "Dell," I said, "you… agree… with what she did?"

  "No," he said firmly.

  "I do not. I don't condone what Cathy did. But she did what she did to protect the family. I can live with that knowledge. I can." He looked down at her and handed her the shot gun.

  "Now, honey need to tie these boys up so we can take them down to join the others in the blow down he said.

  "You hold 'em here while I get some line to tie 'em. I'll only be a couple of minutes. We can't afford to mess up anymore; we're almost out of dynamite."

  "Dell, I'm tired. Let's just shoot them here."

  Cathy looked tired to me.

  Dell wanted none of it.

  "And then have to drag their bodies all the way back down that hill into the blow down No way. I won't be gone but five minutes."

  The second Dell turned his back I felt movement in Kimber's shoulder. He was going for the handgun.

  Dell walked away from us slowly. His shoulders were hunched forward and the incline of the slope made every step he took seem a monumental effort. Not once did he look back our way.

  Cathy didn't have the arm strength to keep the barrel of the shotgun pointed right at us. It kept drifting down and she kept lifting it higher. Each fresh cycle of effort lasted a shorter time than the previous one. Her muscles were fatiguing.

  Kimber turned his head away from her and whispered, "On three, roll away from me."

  Cathy heard him speak but probably couldn't understand the words. She raised the gun once more and said, "Don't you try anything. Killing doesn't bother me too much anymore. Killing you now rather than later is nothing more than an inconvenience. This is loaded with birdshot. I don't even have to aim."

  Cathy couldn't maintain the angle of the gun barrel. Kimber tapped me with his elbow once, paused, tapped me again, paused, and finally tapped me a third time.

  On the last tap I somersaulted forward and started rolling down the hillside. I kept rolling while I waited for a blast from the shotgun, but all I heard was a hollow click. I hoped Kimber was getting away but couldn't risk the time it would take to look back toward him.

  I heard him say, "Drop it, Cathy!"

  I rolled once more before I crouched behind a boulder. Kimber was kneeling behind an aspen tree that wasn't mature enough to protect him from a blast from the shotgun. He held the pistol in both hands, pointing it right at Cathy Franklin. Her shotgun was leveled at Kimber.

  I wondered whether it was actually loaded. It was a twin-barrel over-and-under model. At most, Cathy had only one shot remaining.

  I picked up a rock the size of a lemon. Found a second. Cathy yelled, "Dell, I need some help here!"

  My cover behind the boulder was better than Kimber's was behind the spindly aspen tree. I threw the first rock at Cathy. It landed near her feet.

  She kept her focus on Kimber.

  "Dell Franklin, you get over here, now!" she screamed.

  I threw the second rock. It thudded hard against her upper arm. She yelped and swung the barrel of the shotgun toward me. I tried to disappear behind the rock as I waited for the roar of the second barrel. Instead I heard three quick claps from Kimber's pistol bounce off the hillsides. The blasts were so close together that the echoes made them sound like a single shot.

  I looked up in time to see Cathy fall. She didn't fall backward. She didn't pitch forward. Her knees softened, and a second or two later she crumpled right where she had stood. Her lips were moving as though she was in silent prayer.

  The shotgun reached the ground before she did.

  I said, "Kimber, are you all right?"

  "Fine. You?"

  "Good, I think. What do we do now? Dell's probably on his way back."

  Before I had a chance to reply, I heard, "How about we do this now? Why don't I take you two to see your friends? I think they'll be more than happy to see you." Dell Franklin was walking back down the hillside toward us. One of his hands was raised above his head like a prisoners. The other one gripped a big chain saw. He took a path down the hill that let him pass at least ten feet from Cathy's body. Not once did he glance over at her. Kimber kept his gun leveled at Dell's chest but Dell didn't seem to notice it.

  He looked first at me and smiled ruefully. Turning to Kimber, he said, "Thank you. Thank you both. I didn't have the heart to do that to her. But… I'm afraid that it needed to be done."

  Kimber moved over to Cathy's body and rested his fingers against her neck. He craned his neck to look up at Dell.

  "Cathy thought the gun was loaded?"

  Dell shrugged.

  "Not sure what she thought." He didn't expect us to believe him.

  We didn't.

  "How did you know I had a gun?" Kimber asked.

  "Didn't know for sure. I was afraid Cathy had managed to ki
ll the two of you when she toppled those trees down the hill on top of Phil. Since you escaped I kind of hoped you had Phil's gun with you, but if you didn't, I figured I didn't have much more to lose, no matter what. I'd go get some line and tie you up.

  Work on plan B." I said, "Flynn and russ? They're okay?"

  "I can't be sure, but they were when I left them. Lets go check. We might need this." He hoisted the big saw.

  Kimber was still kneeling next to Cathy. He said, "Your wife, Dell? She's still alive."

  Dell looked over, down at the mother of his two children, the blood pouring from below her sternum. His eyes were dispassionate as he said, "That's a bad wound she has. She won't be alive for too long." Kimber said, "He's right."

  I was the only one who kept looking back at Cathy. The callousness of the decision to leave her there to die made me feel hollow and cruel. Finally, near the boundary of the blow down I yelled to Kimber and Dell that I'd wait with Cathy until help arrived, and I jogged back up the hill. When I got next to her, though, I saw a pool of her own blood that was floating dust and forest debris.

  The quantity of blood she'd lost was immense. I lifted her wrist but couldn't locate a pulse. I lowered my ear to her face but couldn't hear any breath sounds.

  I trudged back down the hill and rejoined Kimber and Dell, who had waited for me. Neither of them met my eyes. We reentered the dead forest. I never thought I would voluntarily enter the perimeter of the blow down again. The web of dead trees terrified me as we descended into the deepest drifts of lumber. Dell led us. I followed Kimber. After walking for ten minutes, Dell stopped and looked us in the eye one at a time and said, "It was important to me that you hear the story from Cathy's own lips, just the way I did a few days back. If I had to tell it on my own, I don't think I could do it justice." He shook his head.

  "Right about here is where Phil said the reporter and her husband are buried.

  Somebody should know that, look for them. Bury them properly."

  He pointed up the hill.

  "It's too dark to see, but Phil brought an entire hillside of trees down into this ravine on top of their bodies."

  So Phil Barrett had killed Dorothy's husband, too. What was his name? Oh yeah, Doug.

  We walked on. I felt numb. What had Dorothy learned that warranted her murder?

  Another ten minutes passed. We weren't covering much ground. The path wasn't clear; broken trees and stumps littered the way. Kimber said, "Dell? Earlier?

  You were supposed to kill Flynn and Russ?"

  "Yes. That's the way Phil had it planned. I was supposed to take care of the two of them and he'd take care of the two of you. We'd let the forest bury the bodies. While he was down in Clark picking you up though, and while Cathy was busy setting the charges on the hillside, I tied your friends up, moved them someplace I thought would be safe, and fired a few shots into the air. Even though Cathy set off the charge, they should be okay where I put them. We'll see real soon. We're almost there."

  It took thirty minutes of the deafening roar of the chain saw to free Flynn and Russ from the spot where Dell had sheltered them from the cascade of broken trunks and limbs that the explosives had sent down the mountainside. The lacy web of timber that had imprisoned them in a crevasse at the base of a high rock face was almost eight feet deep. Each time the saw quieted I told Flynn and Russ another part of the story we'd just learned from Cathy and Dell.

  Flynn and Russ finally crawled up through the narrow opening that Dell created with his saw. They were both filthy but neither of them appeared to be injured.

  Flynn climbed out of the cavern first, then Russ.

  Flynn went to embrace Kimber. During the frantic effort to free Flynn and Russ I hadn't noticed his withdrawal from our activity.

  "Alan," she said.

  "Look at Kimber."

  I turned toward him. His arms were crossed over his chest. His eyes were orbs of pure fear.

  "I can't breathe," he said.

  "I think I'm having a heart attack." His hands were shaking. Despite the chill of the night, beads of sweat dotted his upper lip and brow. He was gasping for breath.

  "I can't stay here. I've got to get out of here."

  I climbed closer to him.

  "It's a panic attack, Kimber. This will pass. You're going to be okay. They always pass, right?"

  "No, no. I'm not going to be okay this time! This is worse. I feel like I'm going to die up here. I have to get away from this place. Right now, please. I have to go." His eyes scanned the hillside, searching for imaginary dangers.

  I knew I had to grant him whatever control I could.

  "That's fine, Kimber. Where would you like to go?"

  He didn't hesitate.

  "Back to your car. I like it in your car. Right now I want to go to your car."

  I needed a helicopter to locate my car. I didn't even know which way to look for it.

  Dell Franklins mouth was open as he stared at Kimber. Finally, he said, "We're not too far from it, actually. Your car."

  "Can you show us?"

  "Sure." Kimber said, "I'm dizzy. I can't feel my hands."

  "You'll be okay, Kimber."

  "No, no. I won't. I'm afraid I won't."

  Dell led us to my car. At times Kimber jogged through the narrow paths between the fallen trees. At times he cowered and waited for Flynn or me to steady him.

  The relief I felt at finally clearing the perimeter of the blow down was enormous.

  I kept waiting for Kimber's panic attack to abate. But it showed no signs of lessening.

  I fumbled for my keys. Kimber climbed into the backseat, begging, "Music! I want music. More Beethoven. Boz Scaggs. Somebody. I don't want to die back here."

  I turned to Flynn and Russ.

  "We shouldn't all pile in there with him. He needs space. I'll drive him down to town and try to get him stabilized. Dell, where are the other cars?"

  "A quarter mile from here, around the edge of the blow down That's all. You go ahead. The three of us will follow you in my truck."

  I turned to Russ and Flynn.

  "You're sure?"

  Russ said, "Go. You're the best one to be with him right now."

  I, Dell said, "The closest place you could take him would be my ranch. It's the first ranch past Clark. You're welcome to take him there."; Kimber yelled, "No! No place new. It will make it worse. Turn the:: music up. Drive, please, drive" I offered a sad smile to Dell before I climbed behind the wheel. I said, "Thanks for the offer. You need to finish telling Russ and Flynn the story and get the local sheriff involved. I'll get Kimber to town and try to calm him down."

  PART Six

  Welle Done

  By the time Kimber and I descended from the edge of the blow-down and reached the town of Clark I figured that his panic attack had exceeded an hour in duration. As far as panic attacks go, sixty minutes is a long time. I asked Kimber if that was typical for him. In a voice as cold and sharp as an icicle he told me that it didn't matter, this time was different, he was sure he was dying.

  I was starting to worry. Although panic attacks are terrifying for the victim and scary enough for anybody in the vicinity, they are usually, ultimately, harmless physically. But that isn't always the case. Occasionally the physiological stress that an attack places on the body can cause severe consequences-heart attack, stroke, even in rare instances, death.

  Ten minutes farther down the hill toward Steamboat, Kimber sat up suddenly in the backseat and said, "Alan, I don't think I'm going to make it to town." I had to admit that he appeared ready for death. He was ghostly white and his respirations were rat-a-tatting like a machine gun. He looked out the window and asked, "Are we close to Welle's ranch?"

  I was perplexed by the question. I replied, "Reasonably. A couple of more minutes."

  "Go to the ranch, then. Please. The Silky Road. I liked it there today. I think maybe I'll feel safer there. Maybe I'll get better there. Please."

  Although familiarity sometim
es has an ameliorating effect on panic episodes, I wasn't convinced returning to the ranch was the wisest course of action.

  "We're only fifteen or twenty minutes from town, Kimber."

  "I don't think I can make it twenty minutes. My chest."

  I started to argue that there was no one at the ranch who could let us through the gate. He told me he didn't care. We could break in. He'd explain it all later.

  "I've lost feeling in my toes and fingers. Just try it." He was begging.

  Remembering that this man had helped save my life only a couple of hours earlier, I drove to the gate of the Silky Road and hit the buzzer. While I was waiting for a response I checked my watch. It was almost dawn. The only thing that was keeping me awake was the adrenaline rush I was having in reaction to Kimber's panic attack. Sylvie finally answered my beckon after a minute or two.

  She had obviously been awakened from a sound sleep. I couldn't imagine that she would grant us entry if I told her the truth, so I identified myself and said that Phil Barrett had asked me for a ride home from town and explained that he'd lost his keys and couldn't recall the security code for the gate.

  She asked if Phil was drunk again.

  I said he was.

  She mumbled something profane and told me she'd go over and unlock the house for him. Give her five minutes to get dressed.

  The gate eased open and I pulled inside and drove up the lane. I told Kimber to stay down in the backseat until I knew Sylvie was gone. I didn't want her to get a glance at Kimber. She wouldn't be fooled; Kimber looked nothing like Phil Barrett. Sylvie arrived at the front door a minute after I did and as she unlocked the door asked if I needed help getting Phil inside.

  I said, "This isn't the first time, I take it."

  "Hardly," she replied.

  "Go back to bed. I'll get him in even if I have to use a wheelbarrow."

  She laughed good-naturedly and climbed back into her car to return to her house.

  "Kimber," I said as I leaned into the car, "we're here. Where exactly do you want to go?"

  "The study. Same place I was today."

  I supported him from the car and guided him to Raymond Welles study. I didn't know how I was going to explain this incursion to anybody. I'd already decided that the moment the panic attack abated I was going to pack Kimber back in the car and drive him down the hill to the bed-and-breakfast so I didn't have to explain the lie to anyone but Sylvie.