Deadfall

by Patricia H. Rushford

  “Completely.”

  Jaycee went back to his hounds, disappearing into the thick woods, his flashlight flickering between the shrubs and tree trunks.

  “He’s walking back?” Mac asked.

  “Yep.” Troy jumped onto the bed and covered the bear with a blue tarp, securing it with brown twine. “He’s the original mountain man.” After taking a drink of water from an old milk jug,Troy got into the driver’s side and started the truck.

  Mac unloaded his rifle and placed it in the back of the seat, relief washing over him. His knees started to buckle as he climbed into the truck.

  Troy drove back to the cabin in just a few minutes. It had taken them over an hour to walk through the woods.

  “You get what you came for?” Troy asked.

  “I don’t know yet. Give me my phone.”

  Troy pointed to the glove box. Mac retrieved the phone and called Kevin, who was waiting at the base of the Bridge of the Gods in Cascade Locks.

  “It’s about time you made contact. I’ve been worried sick,”

  Kevin said.

  “You have?” Mac chuckled. “I didn’t know you cared.”

  “Smart-mouth.” Kevin then asked, “How was the hunt?”

  “Great. We have a bear, hopefully with Jaycee’s bullet inside. Hey, Kev. Meet me back in Corbett at the Grange. Bring me some coffee and a bottle of water. And bring Chris. We need a game officer to go through the carcass.”

  Troy and Mac pulled into the Grange parking lot to find Kevin and Chris already there, leaning against the undercover truck. Two patrol troopers were also waiting in the lot—Mac’s cover if things had gone sour. Sergeant Frank Evans pulled in moments later, covered in mud. His car reeked of hot brakes.

  “You okay?” Frank asked Mac.

  “Fine, Sarge. Hungry for bear?” Mac pulled back the tarp.

  “Nice one.” Chris hopped into the back of the truck. “Did things go as planned?”

  “By the numbers, Chris, thanks. Our guy put a round in with his revolver, and he’s back in his cabin by now. I couldn’t tell you how to get there, but Mr. Wilson can.”

  “Our plane has a pretty good lock on the position of the cabin, thanks to the GPS you were carrying. They made note of any positions when you weren’t mobile,” Kevin said.

  “I can give you directions,” Troy added. “Or draw a map.”

  “Thanks, Troy,” Mac said. “That would be a big help.”

  They really didn’t need the map, but Mac appreciated the man’s efforts. He retrieved a blank sheet of paper from his briefcase in the clunker truck he’d driven out. “Directions and a map would be great.”

  Troy seemed relieved to have something to do.

  Mac turned his attention back to the bear. Chris waved a metal detector over the carcass. “There’s something in the right shoulder. That’s the only read I get. Is that where you shot, Mac?”

  “It was.” Mac frowned.

  “Let’s take a look, I’ll tell you if it was one of my bullets right here.” Chris pulled a folding knife from his duty belt and began skinning the bear’s shoulder hide. “Here’s our entrance behind the left front.” Chris pointed. “Hopefully it’s not a through and through, and the detector was just getting a bullet jacket or a fragment.” Chris skinned the bear’s other shoulder after the others helped him roll the animal over in the truck. “Shoot. There’s an exit wound in the other shoulder.”

  “Oh, no.” Mac rubbed a hand over his head. All that work for nothing?

  “Hand me that metal detector back,” Chris said to Kevin. He waved the handheld device over the bear one more time, this time with no tone. “That’s odd.”

  “Wave it over the hide that would have been by the exit wound,” Troy suggested as he handed the directions to Mac.

  Chris placed the round head of the machine over the bear hide that was lying flat on the truck bed. “Bingo!” Chris yelled as the detector chimed. “Give me some light right here.”

  A patrol trooper shined his light on the spot Chris was pointing to while he examined the thick black hide. “There’s a bullet lodged in the hide; grab an evidence bag!”

  Kevin produced a paper evidence bag from his pocket. Mac grinned at his optimism. Chris pulled a large-caliber bullet from the hide, bloodied by its course. “That’s not one of mine, so it must be from the other shooter.”

  Mac released the breath he’d been holding as Chris placed the bullet in the evidence bag and handed it back to Kevin.

  “Mac and I will be waiting on the front steps of the crime lab when it opens in, what . . .” Kevin looked at his watch. “Seven hours.”

  “I’ll accompany the bear to our wildlife-evidence freezer at Bonneville,” Chris said, “just in case we need to look it over again.

  I’m not getting any other hits and don’t see any more wounds. Looks like your round bounced off as planned, Mac.”

  “He probably missed,” Frank grumbled.

  “Thanks for the confidence, Sarge.” Mac laughed, more from relief than from anything humorous.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “It gets better. The suspect actually grabbed my rifle after it jammed and wrapped his meat hooks over the top of the barrel and the action. I made sure I didn’t touch that part of the gun on the way back, so hopefully latents can lift some prints off it.”

  “Good. Now get your rears home and get some sleep. You guys have soaked me for enough overtime already.” Frank slapped Mac on the back as they walked to their vehicles. “You better get working with the D.A. on the phone records for Jaycee’s cell phone, Mac. Let them subpoena the cell company so we can find out who this character is.”

  Kevin gave Mac a thumbs-up. “See you in the morning, partner.”

  On the way home Mac reviewed everything that had transpired, from his first interview with Troy to Chris discovering the bullet. He felt certain Jaycee had killed Brad, but something else niggled at his mind. He thought about the unsolved murder case out at the sawmill and the animal carcasses they’d found buried out there. They figured the ex-con had been poaching. Had he been working for Jaycee? The idea wasn’t that farfetched. One thing for certain, he planned to check the fingerprint they’d found on the tape at that scene against Jaycee’s.

  Maybe he was being too optimistic that the two cases might be related. The chances were slim, but if they were, it meant two successful cases with him as lead detective. He shook his head as he pulled into his driveway. Stranger things had happened. Mac opted not to mention his harebrained scheme to anyone just now. He’d bide his time and let the evidence speak for itself.

  32

  KEVIN WAS WAITING in their car in the front of the Justice Center in downtown Portland with the manila evidence bag containing the bullet. Mac had walked across the street for coffee and scones. He returned to the car holding two cups of coffee in his hands and the bag of scones in his teeth.

  Kevin rolled the passenger side window down a few inches, making Mac wait in the rain. “You got a pumpkin scone in there?”

  “Uh-huh,” Mac mumbled around the paper bag.

  “You may enter then.” Kevin smiled and rolled the window all the way down, taking the cups and bag from his partner.

  Mac was in too good of a mood to complain.

  “Might as well make yourself comfy.” Kevin set the bag on his lap. “The lab doesn’t open for a few minutes yet. The crew is probably inside, but the doors don’t open up until eight sharp.”

  Mac took a sip of hot coffee, staring out the window at the parking lot full of Portland Police Bureau cars. The sub floor of the Justice Center served as the Multnomah County jail, while the first floor was the Bureau’s Central Precinct office for their agency.

  “Did you get hold of anyone on that cell phone number Troy Wilson gave us for Jaycee?”

  “Yep, taken care of.” Mac had dealt with the phone as soon as he’d come into his office at seven that morning. “We’ll see what name is on the contract for the phon
e number he gave. Hopefully it isn’t stolen and we can get an idea who this guy is. It was a 541 area code, so I got one of the detectives at Hood River County on one of their contacts, to save us time on getting a grand jury subpoena or writing a warrant.”

  “Good work, Mac. I appreciate your being a jump ahead of me.”

  Mac wasn’t sure what to say. He checked his watch. “We could go in now. It’ll be about eight by the time we get to the twelfth floor.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, but I haven’t eaten my scone yet.” Kevin opened the sack and sniffed appreciatively. “Ah. Something to be savored. Not eaten in a rush.”

  “So, you want to talk or something?” Mac asked, hoping that wasn’t the case. He wanted to get the bullet into ballistics. Now.

  “Yeah, that might be good. I kind of dumped a load on you the other night—telling you about the cancer thing.”

  Mac shrugged. He really didn’t want to deal with that issue. He had efficiently shoved it into a corner of his mind. “Did you have a chance to tell the others?”

  “No. With this case breaking loose, I haven’t brought it up. Which was why I wanted to talk to you. I’d rather you didn’t mention it to anyone. I’d like to tell them myself.”

  “Right. My lips are sealed.” Mac grabbed the envelope containing the bullet from the dashboard. “You can go ahead and savor your scone, Kev. I gotta know if this is the winning bullet. I’ll meet you up there.” He opened the door, tossing Kevin an expectant grin.

  “Oh, all right then.” Kevin sighed. Taking the sack and his coffee, he joined Mac on the sidewalk.

  Security passed them through, and they took the elevator to the crime lab on the twelfth floor. Mac had left a message so that Wain would be expecting them. The receptionist was just coming in to work.

  “Hi, Kevin, Mac. Wain said to go right back.”

  “Thanks.” Mac hurried to the criminalist’s office, with Kevin trailing behind.

  “Morning, Wain,” Mac said as he entered. He held up the envelope. “I’ve got a present for you.”

  “So I heard.” Wain was standing in front of his microscope, booting up his computer and monitor. “Do you have the gun also so I can compare barrels?”

  “Sorry, not yet.” Mac frowned. “You don’t need it to compare bullets, do you?”

  “I don’t need it. Helps if I have a bullet from a gun taken in a clinical environment. How’d you get this one?”

  “Pulled it out of a bear.” He chuckled at Wain’s expression.

  “Comparing bullets from bears and humans. Interesting.”Wain took the bullet from Mac and, after removing it from the evidence envelope, placed it under his microscope. He examined the bullet for several seconds before photographing it with a camera attached to the microscope. He then removed it and set it in a solution. After cleaning the blood and bone from the bullet, he placed it back on the microscope and peered into the eyepiece. “It has the right twist to the barrel imprinted on the sample and appears to be made of the same material. Let me bring up the image of the bullet taken out of Mr.Gaynes on the split screen.” Mac held his breath as both bullets sat side by side in the enlarged-image screen. They appeared to match, but Mac waited for Wain’s expert opinion.

  Wain peered through the microscope for what seemed like an eternity. “Gents, my professional opinion, based on the lateral striations I see here . . .” Wain paused for several more seconds and raised his eyes to look at the screen.

  “Your professional opinion is . . .?” Mac repeated.

  “These bullets were fired through the same gun. That’s prima facie evidence. If the barrel is from the same gun, you have your murder suspect.”

  “Thank you!” Mac clinched his fists, trying to tone down his excitement but finding the task impossible. “So that’s it!” Kevin and Wain probably thought he was nuts. “We’ve got him.”

  “Not so fast, Mac.” Kevin shared his enthusiasm in part. “This test alone would have been good enough for a conviction five years ago, but IBIS will put the last nail in the coffin with a computer analysis.”

  “He’s right,” Wain said. “But for now, I can tell you without hesitation that these bullets are fired from the same barrel and you have probable cause for arrest—if you know the owner of the gun.”

  “We do.” Kevin grinned. “We’ll call back later on that IBIS info,Wain. Thanks for the quick work.”

  Mac and Kevin all but ran out of the crime lab to the elevator. Mac pressed the lobby button over and over until the door closed and the car began its downward journey.

  “Pretty cool, don’t you think?” Mac asked.

  Kevin shook his head. “Do you always get this revved up?”

  Mac’s pager vibrated. “It’s dispatch. We have an alpha page to call Hood River County. I bet it’s that cell phone info.”

  “We can give them a call from the car,” Kevin said.

  Mac jogged ahead, taking back his place as the driver. Kevin called the sheriff ’s office as Mac drove. “I was speaking with a Detective Marty Keels; it was probably her.”

  “Yeah, this is Bledsoe with OSP. Dispatch said to call your office. Probably from Detective Keels.”

  Mac took some deep calming breaths as he raced back to the patrol office. They were close, thanks to his brilliant plan. Yeah, but it would never have happened if that trooper hadn’t pulled Troy Wilson over and brought him in. The thought sobered Mac. They’d gotten a lucky break. Except Kevin wouldn’t have called it luck—he’d have called it an answer to prayer.

  Kevin covered the mouthpiece. “Deputy Sam Wyatt’s the one who paged you.”

  “The original deputy to respond.” Mac nodded.

  “Yes, this is Bledsoe.” Kevin listened intently to the information Sam gave him. “You’re kidding. You don’t say. Tell you what, why don’t you and your crew put out a BOLO (be on the lookout) on this guy and try to hook him up.” Kevin jotted something on his pad. “We’ll be putting a team together and heading your way.

  If you find him at his house and want to hot-pop him for aggravated murder, we have probable cause for the arrest. Okay, thanks.

  I’ll use this number. You can go through dispatch or we’ll go to your radio net when we get close. Thanks, Sam. Be careful.” Kevin slapped the phone shut.

  “What was that all about?” Mac gripped the steering wheel.

  “Found out who Jaycee is. Jaycee is not his name. It’s J. C., his initials. Stands for Jack Clovis. He’s a volunteer for the search-and-rescue crew Deputy Wyatt heads up. Lives over in Cascade Locks, east of Bonneville Dam.”

  “No kidding. He was out looking for Brad that first day. I saw his rig, but I never saw him. Good thing, or I’d have been dead meat last night.” Mac frowned, remembering the truck he’d seen out at the cabin. It had been too dark to see it clearly. “He ran hounds on the search looking for Brad when he disappeared. I can’t believe this. The fox was in the henhouse the whole time.”

  “Wyatt’s crew is going to the suspect’s home in Cascade Locks.”

  “So, do you want to head over there? This is our pinch.”

  “They’ll be there in a few minutes; they know to hold him for us. If he’s talking, they’ll take notes but won’t press him. Besides, you are out of the interview loop with your undercover stunt. He’ll be too mad to trust you. I’ll have to partner with the sergeant or give this over to Russ and Philly to tag team.”

  “Shoot,” Mac muttered. “You’re right. I want to be there when they bust this guy.”

  “Tell you what. Let’s head east to Cascade Locks where Clovis lives and get some troops en route for support.” He read off Clovis’s address and the directions from his pad. “I’ll have dispatch get Chris Ferroli going and our gorge patrols, maybe even some from The Dalles if they have any patrols out this way.”

  Kevin phoned dispatch, asking to have cover started out to the gorge. The radio ripped with activity as different troopers responded. Dana, who had gorge patrol, called in as she took the C
ascade Locks exit. She’d get there ahead of them. Mac’s chest tightened at the thought of Dana being involved. That annoyed him. She was a trooper just like they were. He shouldn’t be that uptight.

  Chris was also en route, along with a patrol from The Dalles. They’d all be going to assist the deputies at Clovis’s home. Sergeant Evans had responded as well and would be steaming east in the hammer wagon. The gang’s all here, Mac thought. Except for Russ and Philly, who were in Salem conducting interviews.

  Just prior to Bonneville Dam, Kevin’s cell phone rang. It was Deputy Wyatt. “Clovis isn’t at his residence. They’re rerouting to the cabin.”

  “Do they know how to get there? We have the directions.” Mac had put Troy’s map in the console.

  “Says he does. Guess they’ve used it as a base camp in the past on SAR missions.”

  “Helpful son of a gun, isn’t he?” Mac handed the directions to Kevin. “This will help.” Troy had created a concise map and had even put in the numbers of the Forest Service roads in the Eagle Creek system.

  “I’ll let Sarge know. You have the uniforms meet us at the freeway exit. We’ll get our vests on there. Then they can follow us to the cabin. Wyatt is heading this way with a couple of deputies, and he has a few more checking some other residences and businesses.”

  Mac and Kevin stopped at the eastbound exit to the freeway, briefing Dana and Chris, who arrived about the same time.

  Kevin opened the trunk and slipped his heavy raid vest over his shirt and tie. Mac and the others followed suit. The vest was bulky and uncomfortable, but it afforded Mac some degree of assurance.

  Though if Clovis wanted to take him out, he’d have no trouble— he could put a bullet into Mac’s head with the first shot.

  Kevin gave some general directions, and the small caravan started for the cabin. Frank caught up with the group as they left the freeway exit and pulled in behind them as they hit the gravel road.

  Mac drove as fast as the gravel road permitted. On the way he noticed dozens of small cabins dotting the hillside on the leased federal forestland. Last night it had been too dark to see much of anything. At the base of Road 16, Mac recognized a large boulder with white paint on the side. “Was Road 16 on the directions?” he asked.