Buried Truth

by Dana Mentink

  Could be that Oscar had never even been here in the first place. Bill ground his teeth.

  He heard shouts from outside.

  “Cloudman?” Crow yelled.

  Bill checked the door from the inside before opening it. “All clear.”

  As the officers piled into the trailer, Bill’s eye was caught by an envelope lying on the kitchen table. He approached warily, but the envelope had not been rigged to explode. Bill slid the contents out.

  “Cloudman,” Rudley snapped, face red with exertion and anger. “That was crazy. You endangered your life for nothing after I specifically ordered you to wait.”

  Bill’s eyes locked on the photos in his hands.

  Rudley spoke louder. “I guess you need reminding that you’re not an officer anymore. You got no badge and no business interfering. We informed you as a courtesy and you blew it.” He stepped forward. “Are you listening to me, Cloudman?”

  But Bill was not listening. His fingers were suddenly cold, the icy feeling flowing up his arms and into his heart.

  He shoved the photos back into the envelope. “We’ve got to find Heather. Now.”

  FIVE

  Heather sighed as she drove away from Charlie’s house after dropping Tina back home, accepting an awkward thank-you from Charlie before he closed the door in her face. Tina had shot Heather one last look from the window and Heather had almost laughed out loud. The expression on her face told the story. She was going to get in trouble, but she had enjoyed the adventure to the fullest. It took Heather’s mind off her worries for a moment, but the memory of Bill’s grim face remained.

  She phoned the police department and learned that Captain Richmond was out on assignment, so she left a message for him to call. A couple hours and many errands later, with the Jeep air-conditioning running at full tilt, she retrieved a message from her editor assigning her a story about the upcoming fair on the reservation. She wrote down the pertinent details with a sigh before she turned the phone to silent as she guided the Jeep back out to the DUSEL.

  Her life was falling to pieces, or so it felt. She’d returned to this place only to find Bill Cloudman was back. Now he was engaged in some bizarre game of cat and mouse with a deranged killer. He wanted her out of his life and that seemed like a good plan, except that she couldn’t seem to shake him from her mind.

  Do your job. Get your career back. Leave Bill to take care of himself.

  Recalling the only picture she’d seen of Oscar Birch in the articles she’d found, eyes glittering from under a shroud of grizzled beard and long hair, she shivered.

  Lord, please watch over Bill.

  She checked her watch. Four o’clock. Nearly quitting time. Pulling up the road and peering toward the lab, she could see Egan’s silver Lexus stopped at the guard gate, checking out for the day. Finally, luck was on her side. An inside scoop article with Dr. Egan was the key to getting her career as a science writer back. Besides, they’d met before, so she had an in, sort of. But he was refusing to talk with her, so she’d have to take more drastic measures.

  She pushed the Jeep ahead and sped over the peak and down the winding road before pulling to an abrupt stop where the walls of red rock squeezed in together, leaving just enough room for two cars to pass.

  Easing the Jeep into the middle of the road and hoping that no other traffic would ruin her plan, she stopped and turned on the hazard lights. The temperature in the vehicle rose with each passing minute, until her long brunette hair was damp with sweat.

  The Lexus moved around the turn and she watched in her rearview as Dr. Egan stiffened, taking in the Jeep stalled on the road. She waved a hand out the window and he pulled to a stop. He climbed out, dressed casually in jeans and a plaid shirt that pulled tight over his expanse of stomach, his graying beard and long sideburns at odds with the shining dome of his bald head.

  “I’ll call for road service,” he said as he walked toward her Jeep.

  “No need.” Heather got out quickly and approached him. “I just want to talk to you, Dr. Egan.”

  “Who …?” he said, alarm written on his face.

  She held up a reassuring hand. “Heather Fernandes. I’m a reporter.”

  His eyes narrowed a moment and he rubbed his beard with the antenna of his phone.

  “You used to write for Horizons. You interviewed me quite some time ago about … what was it?”

  “Wind erosion and climate change.”

  “Ah, yes. You are a friend of Bill Cloudman’s.”

  She started. “You know Bill?”

  His face grew pained. “Actually, I knew his late sister, too.”

  Bill had never shared the particulars of his sister’s death with Heather, only that she’d died much too young, at age fifty-six, months before Heather came to Rockvale, and it grieved Bill deeply. Though she wanted to ask Egan about it, she feared losing her momentum. “I need your help for an article.”

  He looked away and then back at her. “Ms. Fernandes, perhaps I can save us some time. The reason I haven’t returned your phone calls is that I’m aware you no longer work for Horizons magazine.”

  She swallowed. “How did you know that?”

  “A simple internet search. I usually look into the reputations of people who want interviews with me.” He sighed. “That sounds arrogant, but the fact is reporters seem to enjoy stirring the pot and I need to be able to trust my interviewers.”

  Heather opened her mouth to argue, but the twinkle in his eye stopped her. “Dr. Egan, you’re right. I don’t work for Horizons anymore and I’m sure you know why. Long story short is I blew it. I’m sober now, and I’m looking to restore my credibility. I write for the Desert Blaze until I can make that happen. A behind-the-scenes interview with you about the lab would go a long way toward giving me my career back.”

  He smiled. “Good for you. Owning up to your mistakes takes gumption. And I would like to help you do that if I could, but the fact of the matter is we are not allowed to discuss lab operations. Your editor will understand, I’m sure. You can talk to our PR person if you need something in particular.”

  He walked back to his car.

  Her voice cracked as she called to him. “Actually, the big lab story is my idea.” She added hastily, “but with your cooperation, I’m sure my editor would let me write it. For now, I’ve been assigned some smaller pieces and I wanted to get some quotes from you.”

  He paused. “I really am sorry, Ms. Fernandes.”

  She felt the desperation rise, as if her last chance was about to slip away. She had to get him to work with her on some topic, anything. “I’ve been working on some notes about uranium poisoning. Lots of exposed pit mines in the area. You could contribute your expertise.” And then we can talk about the lab when I’ve earned back your trust.

  He shook his head. “I admire your persistence, but I’m not interested.”

  She pulled out the big guns. “How about fossils? There’s been a find south of town. I’m working on that story, too.”

  Dr. Egan turned back. His brow wrinkled and then he burst into laughter. “So I guess you did your homework. You know I’m really a paleontologist at heart.”

  Heather smiled. “I remembered from my Horizons research that it’s a passion of yours.”

  He slid on a pair of sunglasses and opened the car door. “Tell you what. If that fossil find turns out to be anything interesting, you call me up. That’s a subject I don’t mind talking about.”

  She eased the Jeep to the side of the road and let him pass. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it was a start. Heather drove home with more hope than she’d felt in a long while. The fossil story was going to be her in with Dr. Egan, an opportunity to show him she could be trusted so he’d allow her an interview about the lab.

  One chance. One shot at writing a serious piece was all she needed. It might not get her hired back at Horizons, but it would be a step toward redemption. Resisting the urge to break the speed limit, she made her way home, noting t
hat whatever Bill had done to the engine seemed to have fixed the strange knocking from under the hood.

  A quick stop at home to check on Choo Choo, and Heather would be on her way to the police station to fill them in on the strange phone call and note. A flicker of fear tightened her stomach for a moment before she forced it away.

  Leave the worry to the cops. They will know how to handle it.

  The temperature still hovered in the triple digits as Heather pulled up the drive to her father’s cabin. Though it meant a formidable electric bill, she left the air conditioner running to keep things pleasant for Choo Choo while she was gone. That dog was the best listener of any living creature she’d encountered and he’d sat with her through her tears, despair and prayers for her sobriety. Heather knew that the old Labrador was a God-given blessing. The least she could do in return was keep him from overheating.

  She noticed it the minute she crested the driveway. The gate. The old wooden gate was ajar.

  Throwing open the car door, she leaped out.

  “Choo Choo?” she yelled. “Where are you?” She’d installed a dog door to give Choo Choo access to the backyard while she was away. If he’d gotten out …

  She ran into the yard and did a quick scan. No dog.

  Back to the front and she unlocked the door with shaking fingers. Maybe the dog was inside, enjoying the cool.

  “Choo?” she yelled again, but there was no noise of scrabbling nails on the hardwood floor.

  She looked at her watch. She’d been gone for several hours. The dog could be anywhere. Fighting a surge of panic, she raced outside again and shouted for him. The sound echoed along the sunbaked ground and down into the canyon, but there was no answering bark.

  In a misery of uncertainty, Heather turned in helpless circles, trying to decide which direction to start the search. The rugged canyon? Along the brush-lined road that led back to the highway? It was ferociously hot. Choo Choo would never find his way home on his own.

  Tears threatened as she imagined the old dog desperately searching for her through his blurred eyes.

  She ran back to the Jeep, and her fingers were just grasping the handle when a voice called.

  “This your dog, ma’am?”

  She jerked around to find a short mail carrier, holding a U.S. Postal Service sack with one hand, his other wrapped around Choo Choo’s collar.

  With a cry of joy, Heather ran to the dog, who nearly knocked himself over with his own whirling tail.

  “Oh, Choo. I was so worried.” She buried her face in his fur, momentarily unable to speak.

  The man’s face creased into a smile as he took off his cap and wiped his brow. “Saw him back on the main road, sniffing around. Figured he had to belong here.”

  “Thank you so much for returning him. It was so kind of you.”

  He waved a hand. “No problem.” He eyed the house behind her. “You should get a better lock for that gate, ma’am.”

  Heather shook her head. “That’s the weird thing. It has a good latch. I was sure it was closed tight when I left.”

  He chuckled. “Not tight enough to keep this old boy in.”

  She sighed. “You’re right. Listen, I really appreciate you walking him home, especially in this heat. Won’t you come in for a drink of water?”

  The little man shook his head, settling his cap onto his balding head. “Gotta finish my route,” he said, blue eyes twinkling. “Nothing will stop this guy from doing his duty. Might as well give you your mail while I’m here.” He handed her a stack of envelopes.

  Heather watched him walk back down the long drive before she took Choo Choo back in the house.

  If the mailman hadn’t found him …

  She shuddered, pouring the dog a fresh bowl of water before going outside to check the gate again.

  I’m sure it was closed when I left. It might be nothing, her own carelessness.

  Or it might not.

  Back inside, shivering, she made up her mind to head to the police station immediately, and this time she was taking Choo Choo with her. The roaring of multiple engines brought her to the window. She watched, mouth open, as a police car pulled to a stop, followed by a Tribal Ranger’s vehicle.

  Most surprising of all was the arrival of Bill Cloudman in his truck, his face a grim mask.

  He hurtled out, leaving the truck door open as he strode to the front door.

  “Heather?” he hollered, louder than he’d meant. “Are you in there?”

  Crow and Rudley caught up, Rudley’s face still flushed with anger.

  “This is not …” Rudley began.

  Bill wasn’t listening. He drew his weapon and the officers stepped to the side of the door as they heard the sound of someone approaching.

  Heather opened it, eyes wide at the sight of them.

  He exhaled, releasing the weighty terror that had filled him on the drive over.

  “What’s going on? You look like you’re ready to break down my door,” she said, her glance darting from him to the other men and back to him.

  “Are you alone?” he barked.

  “No,” Heather said. “Choo Choo’s here, too.” The dog pushed by her leg and wagged his tail at them. After a moment of hesitation, she added, “Do you all want to come in?”

  He wanted to say an emphatic no. His insides were on fire, shot full of emotions that nearly floored him with their intensity. After long months of being numb, he did not like the sensation. He joined the others in holstering their weapons and followed them in. Heather beckoned them to sit on the worn sofa and provided glasses of ice water. Bill chose instead to stand. “Why didn’t you answer your cell? I called a half dozen times.”

  She raised an eyebrow at his tone. “I put it on silent and forgot about it. Why?”

  After a warning look from the FBI agent, Bill left Rudley to introduce himself and do the talking before he said something he shouldn’t.

  “Miss Fernandes, have you had any contact with a stranger recently? Any threats or situations that seemed odd or out of place?”

  Bill was dumbfounded when she nodded.

  “I got a phone call and a note.” She provided the details.

  Bill felt as if his blood had started to boil in his veins. “Where’s your phone?” He took it from her and scrolled through her call list, writing down all the numbers on the notebook Crow handed him.

  Rudley took the note she retrieved from the kitchen drawer. “It’s him, all right. He didn’t even bother to disguise his handwriting.”

  “Who?” Heather stared at them. “Do you think the call and note are from Oscar Birch?”

  Rudley nodded. Bill noted that Heather didn’t look altogether surprised. He rounded on her. “So you had a note and a call from this lunatic and you didn’t think that was something to share?”

  “I meant to share it. That’s why I made an appointment with the police, but you all beat me to the punch.”

  He saw the flash of anger, the tightening of her full lips.

  “You should have told me.”

  She glared. “You ordered me to leave you alone, remember?”

  “That was different.”

  She fixed him with a look. “What’s changed? Why are you here now?”

  Bill looked down for a moment to try to gain some control. “We got a tip and went after him. He wasn’t there, but he left this.” He slid out the envelope and handed it to her.

  She took it, fingers brushing his. As she removed the photos, the color drained from her face. “They’re … they’re pictures of me.”

  One of her talking to Bill in front of his vandalized house, hands on hips, another holding his arm, a beseeching look on her face.

  “Yes,” Rudley said grimly. “We believe he’s targeting people close to Bill, to make him pay for Autie’s death. Toying with them to get to Bill.”

  She blinked. “But we’re not … I’m not …”

  Crow cleared his throat. “Oscar lived in Rockvale for a long time. He mu
st have known that you and Bill were … together before.”

  Bill saw the heightened color in her cheeks. Their past was a chapter they both wanted to close, but it seemed Oscar had reopened it for them.

  She sat heavily in a wooden chair. “This is ridiculous. I’m here to earn a living, that’s all. I have nothing to do with Bill anymore.”

  She didn’t look at him, but he felt the words cut into his heart. Why? he wondered idly. She’d been out of his life for a long time. Why did it still hurt?

  Brushing the feelings aside, he moved closer. “You need to leave Rockvale. Go back to Miami. Anywhere, as long as it’s not South Dakota.”

  Her head shot up, a look of defiance on her face. She waved the pictures. “This isn’t my problem, remember? You’re going to handle it all and I’m to stay out of it. I can do that, live my life, do my job and stay away from any odd strangers.”

  “No,” he all but yelled. “You don’t know this guy. He’s crazy and he enjoys inflicting pain. He’ll worm his way into your life until he has you where he wants you and then …”

  Rudley held up a hand. “Miss Fernandes, though Bill is not—” he stressed the word “—in a law enforcement role anymore, I think in this case he’s correct. It would be better for you to leave. Oscar isn’t going anywhere until he gets what he wants here in Rockvale, so it would be safer for you to go elsewhere.”

  Heather squirmed on the chair. “I’ll need to think about it.”

  Rudley nodded. “Fair enough.” He stood, Crow rising along with him. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make, but I’ll step outside and give you some breathing room.”

  She nodded, still not looking at Bill. He wanted to take her arm, pull her away and make her promise to get on the next plane out. The last thing he needed was for something to happen to her.

  Rudley handed Heather a small photo as he exited. “Here’s the most current picture we have of Oscar Birch.” He continued out into the brilliant sunshine, Crow just behind him. Bill was about to leave as well when he heard a strange cry.