by Neil Mcmahon
Indians possessed that kind of wariness for good reason, but I'd rarely if ever seen it in the kind of man that Jessup appeared to be. Was it innate to him? The result of a harsh upbringing?
Or did it stem from circumstances that had come about later in his life-that had created a need for constant vigilance?
I realized I knew hardly anything about Lon-nothing at all about his past except Renee's mention that he'd been friends with Astrid and Professor Callister. It was a safe bet that he'd been inside the Professor's study and knew its layout. While Madbird and I were working there, he had dropped by and unobtrusively checked it out. He'd seen Renee wearing Astrid's earring at the Professor's funeral-and then hadn't come to the reception afterward, an abrupt and surprising derailment of what he and Evvie had obviously intended. And if the SUV driver had, in fact, been watching Renee, Lon was one of the few people who knew that she had come back to Helena within the past couple of days.
I felt my skin prickle lightly, the kind of sensation that old-timers used to say came from somebody stepping on your grave.
51
Instead of heading downtown to the courthouse, I drove to Evvie Jessup's real estate office. Madbird and Gary wouldn't miss me for a while, if at all, and hanging around worrying about Darcy wasn't going to help her.
I pulled my truck into a parking lot across the busy strip of Eleventh Avenue, staying screened by other vehicles, and found a spot where I could see into the office plate glass windows without being noticed by anyone inside there. I didn't have a real plan-I just wanted another look at Lon Jessup, to watch him while I thought things over.
But Evvie was alone in the front room, sitting at her desk, talking on the phone, doing business or maybe gathering the gossip she was notorious for.
Another connection took place in my head. Through her, Lon had a direct pipeline into a lot of behind-the-scenes information in this town-maybe including police activity.
I'd never heard any mention of Lon as a suspect, including from Renee. I didn't know if he'd been looked at and vetted, or simply never considered. But I hadn't gone straight to Gary to ask because I didn't want to be the boy who cried wolf, especially when he was so busy with other concerns, and more especially when those were vital to Madbird. This notion of mine was nothing but a fancy, and probably a wildly unfounded one-I couldn't even call it speculation.
There was another reason I kept it to myself. The last time I'd been in a really serious situation I was overwhelmed, without a clue, scared shitless. Madbird had informed me solemnly that I'd stepped into a different world-one that had been there all along, coexisting and intertwining with the one I knew, but that I'd been oblivious to. Without his guidance I'd have been lost there for good, and very possibly would have died.
That hadn't turned around one hundred and eighty degrees by any means, but I no longer felt helpless. I'd become aware of an edge to it, an intensity, that brought me to life in an electric way. I couldn't truthfully say I enjoyed that like Madbird did, but it sure the hell was exciting.
Now I wanted to push it some-and this time I was the one hunting instead of the one on the run.
Over several minutes of watching Evvie's office, I didn't seen any sign of Lon. He might have been in the back, but I decided to move on and take a look at their home.
I remembered Renee describing the place as being off old Highway 282 near Montana City, a few miles south. Much of that area was former ranch land that had been carved up and developed fairly recently, and there was a maze of spur roads looping in and out.
But I didn't have to cruise long to find the Jesssups' mailbox; it was right on the highway, although they didn't sacrifice any privacy on that count. The property was pristine, meadowland in front that merged into timber, at least a couple dozen acres and maybe more. Their house was set so far back in the trees I could only see flashes of its blue sheet metal roof.
I wasn't about to go driving in there and risk Lon spotting me, but half a mile farther along, a gravel road turned off that side of the highway and led several miles into National Forest land. I'd driven it when I was a teenager, along with pretty much every other back road in this part of the state; I didn't remember it well, but it had to roughly skirt the Jessups' property.
I made my way along it, orienting myself by occasional glimpses of the blue roof, and found a suitable place to pull off into the woods. I rummaged through the assorted baggage I carried in the truck and dug out an old Bushnell rifle scope that I used for glassing game on hunting trips. If anybody came along and saw me, I'd shove the scope in my jacket and act like I'd stopped to take a leak. But that didn't seem likely, particularly in this dank weather; the landscape was deserted to the point of looking forlorn.
A short hike later, I came to a copse of aspen that offered a good view and I settled down with the scope. Now I could see that the house was a beauty, a big prow-fronted cedar home with a huge deck that included a covered hot tub. The interior was probably close to five thousand square feet. The going rate for something like that ran well over a hundred dollars per square foot. Depending on how much land there was, the overall property had to be worth a couple of million and maybe several. Evvie came from money and maybe Lon did, too. For sure, they weren't paying for this with a desultory real estate business.
There were no signs of Lon here, either, or any other life-no lights or flicker of a TV screen showing through the windows, no vehicles parked around, no dogs or cats. The rail fence that fronted the highway was built for looks more than function; there didn't appear to be any livestock to contain. The scene could have been the kind of sterile advertisement you saw in glossy magazines that sold the West.
Back from the highway, the rail fence gave way to older barbed wire, probably part of the original ranch. I got to my feet and followed it, maintaining a good distance and staying in the trees-curious as to how far the property extended and what else might be on it. There were no outbuildings or other structures that I could see. After about a mile, the fence ended in a little coulee.
Before I turned back, I stopped and spent a minute peering through the scope-and glimpsed what looked like fresh tire tracks across a patch of bare muddy earth.
They were hard to follow; most of the ground was thick with pine duff. But I picked up a couple more traces, running from the direction of the house toward the swale.
Well, there was nothing unusual about someone driving a vehicle on their property. Lon might have been cutting firewood, hunting varmints, or doing something else perfectly ordinary.
But I was far out of sight of their house by now and there still hadn't been a whisper of human presence anywhere around. I couldn't see any reason why it would hurt to take a closer look, so I kept on walking.
The coulee was only ten or fifteen feet deep, choked with brush and deadfall. There was no way to drive through it for as far as I could see, certainly not in the area that the tire tracks seemed to lead toward. But I noticed a big clump of debris in there, much thicker than the surroundings. Duff was piled on top of the brush in a way that didn't look like it had fallen there naturally.
Kind of like a giant pack rat nest.
I put the scope to my eye again. Inside the clump, I could just make out a few bits of metal, gleaming dully in the cold gray morning light.
I shoved the scope into my pocket and trotted the couple hundred yards to the spot.
Son of a bitch if the metal didn't belong to a dark blue, mid-'90s Ford Explorer, just like the SUV that had been watching Renee's house.
Madbird's attempts to educate me were bearing fruit. I'd started to learn that everybody had something to hide.
52
I drove back to Helena as fast as I could make it, ripped up between adrenaline about Lon Jessup and worry about Darcy.
Finding the SUV was far from conclusive, but it fit in well. The immediate surmise was that Lon had seen Renee and me come chasing after the SUV, and he'd hidden it because he knew that connecting that v
ehicle to him would be enough to start investigators looking harder. He was already worried on other counts. Although the cache we'd found in the study was wiped clean of fingerprints, forensic technology now was so sophisticated that a single hair from head or body, a fleck of skin, or a bit of dried saliva could identify him. And this time he wasn't dealing with backwoods sheriffs who weren't interested in pressing the case-he'd have Gary Varna on his ass, along with shrewd, determined Renee.
Madbird was pacing in front of the courthouse when I arrived.
"Is Gary here?" I said.
"Yeah, him and his people are talking to Fraker."
"They getting anywhere?"
"I ain't heard much yet, but no surprises. He swears the last time he saw Darce was when they had that fight a couple nights ago. Says the drowning story's bullshit, he was just trying to scare her." Madbird's eyes narrowed into his scrutinizing gaze. "What's going on? You look all amped up."
I felt almost ashamed for intruding on the concern about Darcy, but there was nothing else to be done.
"I've got news," I said. "Come on, I'll tell you both."
We went inside and I managed to convince Faith, the kindly but tough lady desk sergeant, to pull Gary from the interrogation.
"I wish there was a better time to tell you this," I said when he came out. "It's about Astrid. Did anybody ever look at Lon Jessup?"
Gary frowned. "Lon Jessup. I know who he is, but I don't recall him ever being in trouble. And no, his name never came up in any of the case records I saw."
"I got a wild hair," I said. "Started putting things together and drove out to his place. I found that SUV, covered up with brush."
Gary's jaw tightened so hard it looked like he was going to break teeth. I assumed he was pissed because I'd overstepped my bounds by going out on my own.
But what he said was "Well now, that changes everything, don't it?"
At the same time, Madbird's eyes widened in sudden comprehension. Then they turned to slits.
"Guess we're looking at the wrong motherfucker," he said. "I already figured Fraker's a dead end," Gary said. "He's babbling as fast as his mouth will move. The kicker is, we asked to search his truck and he shoved the keys at us. There was a clump of long black hair and a scrap of cloth caught on a door hinge-nylon and elastic, like it was torn from a woman's underwear. Right there in front of God and everybody."
I blinked in surprise. "That's the kicker that he's innocent? How do you figure?"
"He ain't that stupid. If he'd struggled with her, he'd know it would leave traces, and he'd have stalled us."
"Maybe he was just running too scared to notice it," I said.
Both men skewered me with impatient glares.
"What?" I said, bewildered.
"You brung us the mail, Hugh-now read it," Madbird growled. "Jessup gets spooked enough to hide his rig, Darcy goes missing right after. It's a smoke screen, that's how he operates."
I stood there, stunned, as his meaning filtered in. It was Lon Jessup who had abducted Darcy. He'd planted the hair and nylon in Fraker's truck, just like he had planted the photos we'd found in Professor Callister's study, and for the same reason-to frame another suspect and head the police away from himself.
He'd have known via Evvie's gossip mill that Fraker was seeing Darcy and had a rep for being rough with women. An adulterous public figure whose girlfriend disappeared was a scandal that would suck up law enforcement resources and sideline the Callister murder case indefinitely, giving Lon time to make his next move.
But the really chilling implication was that he couldn't afford to let Darcy return and tell the truth.
We were dealing with a man capable of committing murder purely as a ruse.
Gary was already issuing orders to Faith, the desk sergeant. "Call Jessup Real Estate and get Evvie Jessup. Tell her not to move from where she is or touch a phone, I'm coming over to talk to her. Start running a background check on her husband, Lon. Then get ready to mobilize all available personnel, on duty and off-surrounding counties, state troopers, Fish and Wildlife, including air support. Jessup's a big bearded guy about fifty. He may have a young Indian female with him. I'll give you the go-ahead or abort as soon as I know more."
He swung back around to us. "If we go with it, it's a risk, Madbird. I hope you're okay with that."
It was a risk for Gary, too. As soon as Lon became aware of search planes and helicopters, he would know. Crafty and dangerous as he was, he might succeed in escaping.
"There ain't any choice from my end," Madbird said.
"Mine, either," Gary said.
53
I'd never actually been inside Evvie Jessup's office, but it was just like thousands of others-nondescript carpet and furnishings that were neither expensive nor cheap, a few paintings like you'd find in better motels, and fluorescent lighting that gave everything a polyester sheen. The temperature was warm enough to dampen my armpits and the air was close, pervaded by the sickly-sweet smell of a freshener.
Evvie was sitting behind her desk, looking extremely piqued. As soon as Gary stepped in the door, she challenged him.
"What's this about?"
"I want to know where your husband is, Evvie."
"I have no objections to talking to you, Sheriff," she said crisply. "But I'd like to know why. And in private," she added, with a haughty glance at Madbird and me.
Gary stalked to her desk, planted a fist down on it hard enough to make her cringe, and leaned his face forward to within a foot of hers.
"We're talking murder, and you're implicated," he said harshly. "There's another young woman's life on the line right now. You play games with me one more second, I'll do my god-damnedest to see to it you get old in prison."
I never saw a human being's face change like Evvie Jessup's did.
It took her several tries to start talking. The words came out in a shaky voice hardly above a whisper.
"I don't know where he is. Maybe fishing. Maybe off on business."
"Business! He's got business, all right-he kidnapped that girl and he aims to come back without her."
Evvie's mouth quivered and tears streaked her careful makeup. It was not a pretty sight.
"I don't know anything about this, I swear. He was gone when I woke up, I didn't hear him leave. I-I take pills."
"Where would he go? Where does he fish?"
"All over," she said helplessly.
Gary exhaled explosively and stepped back from the desk, shaking his head. There were thousands of square miles of stream-filled woodlands around here.
"Do you at least know the vehicle he's driving, for Christ's sake?"
"He must have taken his pickup truck, it was gone this morning. But I think he has others he keeps different places."
"You think?"
"He has secrets. He goes away and says it's business, but he takes my money and runs around, gambling and having affairs. I don't dare argue with him, I stopped a long time ago. He can be very frightening." She covered her face with her hands and started sobbing, with mascara-darkened tears dripping through her fingers. "Oh, God, I always knew there was something wrong. What is going on? Please tell me."
I actually started feeling sorry for her.
Gary ignored her and took out his belt phone. "That's an affirmative, Faith-get the show moving," he said into it. "Aircraft crisscrossing low, I want him to know we're looking. Search area's everywhere within four hours' drive. Check out all vehicles registered to him, but he might be on foot in the woods, and none of that's for sure." He paused to glare at Evvie. "And send a unit over here to take Mrs. Jessup in for further questioning. Anything yet on that BG check?"
He listened for a few seconds, then grimaced and said, "Okay, thanks. I'll be back in a few minutes for a war council."
Now Gary's expression was sour, the look of a man realizing that he'd been taken in by a long ugly con game played out right under his nose, and he was seriously pissed at himself for not seeing it.
"They don't know who he really is, but they know who he ain't," he told us. "The only Lonnie Jessup they can find that matches his date and place of birth died in 1956, at the ripe old age of nineteen months. How about that, Evvie? Did you know that was one of his secrets?"
She buried her face deeper in her hands and rocked in her seat, her sobs rising to a thin wail.
54
Madbird and I spent most of the next few hours outside the courthouse to stay out of the way, taking short walks around the neighborhood, then coming back to check in and glean whatever information trickled out. We heard the drone of the low-flying search planes and helicopters and we occasionally glimpsed one, but they had a vast area to cover; it had started out being as far as a vehicle could drive in any direction, which meant a rough circle about five hundred miles in diameter, and it grew exponentially as time passed.
So did our anxiety. Our grim hope was that he would keep her alive in order to make her walk to the destination-if he was in the woods, he wouldn't be able to drive far on the backcountry roads, still mired in snow and mud this time of year-and Gary had rushed the aircraft into service to let him know that he was made, so he would realize that killing her was futile.
But they might have been too late. And he might do it anyway.
There'd been no sightings of anyone matching the description of either Lon or Darcy, or of the pickup truck registered to him, and the police didn't know for sure that he was driving that vehicle, anyway.
It was turning out that nobody knew much about Lon, and there was a lot to know. The information that they were piecing together-some from Evvie, some from a search of the Jessup house, some from sources those led to-was painting a picture of a man who, behind his bluff good ol' boy exterior, led a very complex life.
