Driving slower now, he continued down the trail for a few hundred feet, wanting to make sure the Silverado couldn’t be seen from the main road. When he saw a beat-up, dark-green Ford pickup parked about thirty yards up ahead, he shook his head in disbelief.
“Who comes out here in a snowstorm?” he said.
“Baiting,” replied Denny.
“What?”
“Deer baiting,” Denny explained. “Someone’s laying bait for deer season.”
“That’s just fucking peachy,” snapped Webber. “Go see if that lunatic’s in his truck. Jack, come on. We got some walking to do.”
“What if he’s there?” asked Denny while Jack bundled up Kevin. “In the truck?”
“Keep him distracted while we head out into the woods. Tell him—I don’t know—tell him you’re baiting too. So long as he doesn’t follow us. Then catch up. We won’t be that far ahead.”
Everyone piled out of the truck. Denny slung his rifle over one shoulder and plodded toward the pickup. Webber, with Jack trailing close behind holding Kevin in his arms, left the trail and began hiking into the woods.
Deke Frenz stepped quietly to one side, his heavy boots crunching in the snow. One step. Another. A third. Once he’d cleared the trees, he brought his Remington .700 bolt-action up and placed the stock firmly against his shoulder. The rifle had been fitted with a Leupold Gold-Ring scope, which gave him excellent magnification up to two hundred yards. Squinting into the lens, he turned, letting the barrel skim the horizon.
Trees leapt into focus, only to dart back as he continued turning. The effect was unsettling, almost as if the forest were moving, creeping closer, hemming him in. He blinked the sweat from his eyes. Shook his head to clear his thoughts. Peered back down the scope.
Trees, trees and more trees. He had turned almost completely around without seeing anything unusual, when he heard a loud crack somewhere behind him.
He spun to face the other way. Something moved in the distance. Through the scope, the trees jumped at him, suddenly so close he could almost touch them. He searched, searched, but there was nothing. Nothing at—
No, wait.
There was something.
Just beyond a line of oaks. A flash of brown. He knew that the ground there gave way to swampland. And beyond that, the north branch of the Perry River. Maybe the snow had spooked the deer, driving them from swamp’s warmth? Maybe it was his trophy buck?
No. The coloring had been too dark for a whitetail. It had been a deep brown. Brown like the chewing tobacco he’d left in his truck. Brown like a bear.
Another flash of movement through the trees.
Deke tried to track it, but it was traveling too fast. He’d never known a bear to move like that. Just when he thought he would lose sight of it, the animal stopped, and he could see it clearly.
It was big. Really big. With coarse, dark fur. Damned if that wasn’t the biggest bear he’d ever—
Then the bear turned its head and looked directly at him.
Only it wasn’t a bear.
Because bears didn’t have scales. Or eyes that looked eerily human.
With that…that thing staring at him, Deke thumbed the rifle’s safety forward to the off position. Then his finger slid onto the trigger. His heart was tripping harder now.
“Whatever the fuck you are,” he whispered, “you ain’t natural.”
Almost as if it had heard him, the creature’s lips curled back to reveal long, sharp teeth. Powerful jaws snapped at the air, and then it was gone.
Deke lowered the Remington. Fast as that thing moved, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to follow it.
He turned and began running back to his truck, leaving the bag of apples forgotten on the ground. He had to get out of here, get back to the road, get a signal on his cell. He’d call the DNR—no, screw the DNR. He’d call the cops. Maybe the National Guard.
He was almost to the trail—he could see his pickup through the thinning trees—when he heard a different sound.
Voices. Human voices. Heading deeper into the woods, where that thing was.
He didn’t even pause to think about what he was doing. He began running toward the voices and shouting.
“Hey! Hey! Stop! Don’t go in there! Come back!”
Walking about ten yards in front of the others, Webber was so focused on getting to the cave that he didn’t hear Jack calling his name until the man shouted.
“Webber! Hold on a second.”
He stopped and turned. “What?”
“There’s someone coming up behind us,” Jack said. Kevin appeared to be asleep in his arms.
Webber listened. Sure enough, he could hear someone yelling for them to stop.
“Must be the guy from the pickup,” said Denny. He’d found no one in the truck when he’d looked earlier.
Webber nodded. “And now he’s sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.” He paused, weighing his options. Time was running out. He didn’t have any choice. “Denny, I don’t want any witnesses. Go take care of him.”
“What do you mean, ‘take care of him’?”
Webber looked the man in the eye. “Kill him.”
The attack caught Deke by surprise. He had gone behind a tree to avoid a deadfall, when he heard gunfire. The trunk near his head exploded. Surprised, he’d dropped to the ground, pressed his back hard against the rough bark.
Holy shit. Did someone just shoot at me?
A second shot rang out. The ground near his feet erupted in a cloud of snow and dirt.
“Hey!” he shouted. “What the hell are you doin’? I ain’t no deer!”
The next shot hit the tree again. He could feel the impact through the wood.
Son of a bitch. He tightened his grip on the .700 and spun to his left. Using the deadfall as cover, he brought up the rifle, squeezed off two quick shots, dove forward, crawled along the ground, and came up behind another tree.
The return fire plowed into the deadfall, sending leaves and twigs flying through the air.
He dropped again. Keeping his gut tight against the ground, he used his elbows and knees to crawl farther from the deadfall. Sticks dug into his stomach. Bitterly cold snow melted and ran down the front of his jacket. He ignored it all and made his way to a large, dead oak that had fallen across a tree stump.
He had three rounds left in his Remington. He hadn't brought any spare ammo. The other guy had one, maybe two rounds left. Of course, he could have extra shells with him.
He reached the tree stump and brought himself up to a crouch. There was a small gap where the oak leaned at an angle against the stump. Easing the rifle barrel through the gap, he squinted into the scope. Time to find out who this asshole was.
It took him a few seconds to locate the guy. Deke watched as the man peered out from behind a tree trunk. He wore a heavy jacket with the hood up, casting his face in shadows. In his hands was a rifle.
Deke aimed slightly to the right and fired. Part of the tree next to the guy’s head blew apart, sending shards of wood into the guy’s face.
“I coulda killed you just now,” he called out. “That was your one and only chance. You don’t leave now, you don’t leave at all.”
The man popped out from behind the tree, brought the rifle up and fired. The dead oak broke apart. Deke bit back a cry as a piece of wood cut into his forehead.
Peering through his scope, Deke saw that the man’s hood had fallen away, exposing his face. His eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the shooter. It was one of the guys from the motel, the ones the cops were looking for. The ones who had beat the crap out of that poor kid and left him to die. And now the guy was out here trying to kill him.
He didn’t have time to think about the situation. The man was bringing up his rifle.
Deke had him dead center in his scope. Before the other guy could fire, he took the shot. It went a little high and nicked the guy in the shoulder. The other guy cried out in pain, but continued to bring up the rifle
up.
“I warned you, motherfucker.”
One round left. He took a half-breath, let it out slowly, and squeezed the trigger. The Remington recoiled against his shoulder. Through the scope, he watched the guy’s chest explode in a spray of red blood. He fell to the ground.
Out of ammo, wound up on adrenaline and nauseous at the thought of having killed someone, Deke raced for his truck.
He definitely needed to call the cops.
Chapter 31
Izzy’s police car sped east along M-28, bar lights flashing, siren wailing. Thanks to Luce County’s efficient snow emergency crews, the road had been plowed and salted. The SUV was pushing eighty. The few cars traveling on the road pulled over to allow her to pass. Whether or not anyone noticed the missing rear windshield, she neither knew nor cared.
It had taken almost two hours, but her APB had worked. Webber’s Silverado had been spotted.
She crested a small hill. The sun was low in the sky. In the increasing gloom, she saw a group of emergency vehicles clustered in the distance, their own lights flashing. Her face was grim as she raced ahead. The pulsing lights resolved into two Luce County Sheriff’s cars and an ambulance. She pulled in behind one of the Sheriff’s cars.
“This is a crime scene,” she told the others. “Stay here until I speak to whoever’s in charge.”
Izzy climbed out of the SUV and headed toward the nearest officer, a solidly built man who looked to be in his late twenties. When he saw her approaching, he stepped up to meet her.
“Chief Morris?” he asked. When she nodded, he stuck out his hand. “Steven Campbell. Met one of yours earlier today. Detective Billick. Seems like a good man.”
“He is,” she answered, shaking the officer’s hand. She nodded toward the trail leading into the woods. “Who’s running the show?”
Officer Campbell suddenly looked uncomfortable. “That’d be Lt. de la Rosa.”
Izzy had heard of him. Vincent de la Rosa was an ambitious man who wasn’t known for playing well with others. Apparently he had his sights set on the County Executive’s job, and that might only be a stepping stone to what he surely saw as greater glories.
“What have you got back there?” She indicated the trail.
“Two guys. One dead from a GSW to the chest. I know the other guy. He owns a motel down the road. Says he was out here laying down deer bait when the first guy started shooting. They exchanged gunfire, and Deke was forced to kill him.”
“You believe him?”
“Deke? Sure, I’ve always found him to be a straight shooter, no pun intended.”
“So you found no one else? No little boy?”
Campbell shook his head. “Not that I know of.”
“Any ID on the body?”
“You’d have to check with the lieutenant.”
“And he’s back there?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then I’ll have to go ask him, won’t I?”
Campbell hesitated for a moment, clearly anxious about something. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been told to keep everyone out of the area.”
“Everyone?”
He nodded. “Including you.”
“We’ll see about that,” Izzy said and started to move past Officer Campbell.
He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Do me a favor? At least tell him I tried to do my job.”
Izzy smiled. “As far as I’m concerned, you gave me two tons of shit before I finally pulled rank on you.”
“Thanks, Chief,” he said.
She strode toward the trail. An ambulance was parked near the entrance to the woods, its red emergency lights flashing. Webber’s Silverado sat about thirty yards up the trail, and in front of it, an older model Ford pickup. Both vehicles were cordoned off with yellow police tape.
A man sat at the back of the ambulance, a bandage covering part of his forehead. Campbell’s friend Deke, no doubt. An EMT seemed to be arguing with him.
“Sir,” the EMT was saying, “you really should be checked out. That head wound may not look like much, but you never can tell without a closer examination. It won’t take—”
“No time a’tall,” the man finished, “’cause I ain’t going to the hospital. That jackass out there tried to kill me. If all I get out of it is a scrape on the head, I’ll count myself lucky. Besides, I wanna stay and see if they can bring that damned creature out of the woods.”
Creature? Izzy thought and veered over to the ambulance. “Excuse me?” she said to the EMT, flashing her badge. “Can I have a moment with this man?”
“May as well,” he said, irritated by his stubborn patient. “Looks like I’m done here. I’ll go to see if they need help with the body.” He began walking down the trail.
When the EMT was gone, the injured man peered up at her. “Who’re you?”
“Chief Morris. Kinsey PD.”
“Deke Frenz. What can I do ya for?”
“You mentioned something about a creature?”
Deke turned to stare off into the woods. At first he didn’t say anything, and Izzy thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he spoke, his voice subdued.
“Yeah, I saw something. Some kind of animal. Thought it was a bear at first, but….”
“But bears don’t have scales,” she finished for him.
His gaze never left the woods, but she could tell he was surprised by what she’d said. “Any idea what it is?”
“Not really,” she said. “All I know is, it’s fast and it’s deadly.”
“You’ve locked horns with that thing?”
“Last night. It attacked me and my friends.”
Deke pulled out a tin of chewing tobacco and put a pinch between his cheek and gums. “So how is it you’re still alive?” he asked around the chew.
“Had a little help. You?”
“Plain old luck, I guess,” he said, shrugging.
“Can you tell me what happened back in the woods?”
Deke had just finished relating his side of the story when a tall, thin man came rushing down the trail toward them. He was dressed in a Luce County Sheriff uniform. His black hair was cut short, the temples graying. His long legs were chewing up the distance.
“Hold on one damn minute!” he began shouting. “Whoever you are, you need to leave now. This is a crime scene. No unauthorized personnel allowed!”
Izzy told Deke, “He’s my next stop.”
Deke nodded. “Do me a favor and give that little prick hell. Okay?”
“Sure,” she answered, amused at how fast de la Rosa could make friends. “And thanks for the info.” Then she began walking toward the trail.
“Not this way. The other—” He stopped, his narrow face pulling into a frown. “Chief Morris.”
“Lieutenant de la Rosa.”
He bristled at the emphasis on his rank. “Is there something I can do for you? I’m rather busy at the moment.”
“First, you can call off your guard dog.” She jabbed a finger at Officer Campbell. “That man gave me hell for trying to get this far. In case you’ve forgotten, we’re all officers of the law. I don’t expect to be treated like an outsider.”
Lt. de la Rosa’s dark eyes cut to Campbell. He gave the man a brief, satisfied nod. Then he turned his attention back to her. “Patrolman Campbell is simply doing his job. I’m sure you’ll understand that this is a crime scene. I’ve sealed it off, and I can’t have people walking through it. Evidence could be ruined.”
“Really? You don’t think I know how to handle myself around a crime scene?”
“Of course you do” he quipped. “I respect your knowledge. But I can’t risk my investigation by allowing anyone back there until we’re done.”
“And how long will that take?”
“Several hours, at least. We need to determine what actually happened.”
“But you have an eyewitness,” she said. “Someone started shooting at Mr. Frenz, and he shot back. I’m sure ballistics will confirm that there wasn�
�t a third shooter. This is a case of self-defense. No way would that take ‘several hours’.”
Lt. de la Rosa looked askance at Deke Frenz. In a hushed tone, he said, “Self-defense has not been established yet.”
Izzy was amazed at the man’s obtuseness. “You can’t be serious. Remember the APB? The people in that Silverado are suspects in two murders, two kidnappings, and they just shot up my police car. And you think this guy is good for a random killing out in the woods?”
His face flushing red, Lt. de la Rosa took a step forward, crowding her. He was a good head taller and appeared to enjoy using his height to intimidate others.
“Don’t tell me how to run my cases, Chief Morris. This isn’t Kinsey. I don’t answer to you.”
Izzy lifted her face to meet de la Rosa’s glare.
“Step back, Lieutenant,” she said. “Now.”
Vincent de la Rosa opened his mouth as if to say something, then noticed that everyone was watching them. Uncertainty robbed the color from his cheeks. He licked his lips, then took a step back.
“I have a job to do,” he said curtly. “I’m not going to half-ass it by making assumptions or ignoring all the possibilities. Mr. Frenz is a suspect until proved otherwise.”
“Use your head, de la Rosa,” she returned. “Would he have called the cops if it hadn’t been self-defense? He could just as easily have left the man in the woods. The body wouldn’t be found for days out here. Weeks, even. So why call all this attention to the killing now?” Izzy shook her head. “Looking at Frenz for this is wrong, and you know it.”
The red was back in de la Rosa’s cheeks. “I’ve wasted enough time with you, Chief Morris. I’m going to do a thorough investigation. And no one is going into my crime scene until I’m done.”
This wasn’t going to work. She needed to try a different tactic. “Look, Lieutenant,” she said. “Maybe we can help each other out. Have you ID’d the body yet?”
“Yes, but why should I tell you?”
“Trust me. Who’s the DB?”
De la Rose pulled out a small notebook and flipped it open. “Driver’s license says his name is Dennis Cain.” He looked up. “Isn’t he one of the guys from your APB?”
Forever Man Page 27
