Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 13

by The Forgotten

  “But if we take the car up, it would make noise,” Martinez countered. “Talk about announcing your arrival.”

  “Bert, if we go up on foot, we’re out in the open without any protection.”

  “There’s plenty of coverage. And we have weapons. We’re fine unless he lobs a grenade or has land-mined the place. Even then, we can call in for backup if the situation gets bad.”

  Decker broke in, “We’re not here to initiate anything. That means no raids no matter how easy it looks. This is just a lay-of-the-land kind of thing. Then we call for backup. What concerns me is taking Jacob up there on foot.”

  “You need me,” Jacob said.

  “I know that—”

  “I’m not worried.”

  “That’s the problem. You should be.”

  “Okay, then, I am worried.”

  Decker tossed him a look. Jacob tossed him back a smile. “How about some code names—Caleb and Joshua?”

  “You’re way too cocky, guy!”

  Jacob grew serious. “I want to redeem myself.”

  Decker held his stepson’s cheek. “There’s nothing to redeem.”

  But Jacob didn’t believe him. “How about if we walk up a couple hundred yards, and I’ll see if I recognize anything. How much trouble could that cause?”

  “Plenty,” Decker said.

  “First off, even if I find the place, Ruby may not even be there. Secondly, what’s the point of being so close and not getting it perfect?”

  “Your heart stays beating.”

  “You’re just worried about Eema.”

  Decker smiled. “True, but that’s not the entire picture.”

  Martinez said, “Let Tom and me go up and have a look around. You can stay here with him—”

  “But you don’t know what to look for,” Jacob said. Without asking, he got out of the car. Decker dogged him immediately, grabbed his elbow. Then he put his finger to his lips. He whispered, “We turn back when I say so.”

  Jacob nodded, his chest tightening, his breaths rapid and hollow. The other two emerged, Martinez holding the flashlight as the quartet inched their way up the turnoff. It was nothing more than a rut cut into dense brush. Insects twittered, owls hooted, coyotes ululated.

  Fifty feet up.

  Towering trees framed both sides of the road. The geography resulted in limited vision: it was hard to see anything that stood behind the leafy skyscrapers. The sky began to lighten, having turned from charcoal to steel as the moon began to rise, a semicircle of silver light.

  One hundred feet.

  Their footsteps were measured…deliberate, largely silent except for the accidental scrape against the ground. Any noise that they made was muffled handily by nighttime animal sounds.

  Two hundred feet.

  Martinez kept the light localized and on the ground, not wanting to give their presence away by inadvertently shining a beam in an unseen building window. The disadvantage was that he couldn’t spot anything in the brush-covered mountainside.

  Three hundred and fifty.

  Decker’s steps became halting, his attitude more hesitant as they walked up into the unmapped lane and farther away from the car. The tire tracks had all but faded…dissolving. Where did they go?

  Four hundred…four fifty, and still no sign of any kind of outpost. Except for the serpentine passageway, there wasn’t any indication of human habitation. Either the shack wasn’t nearby or was hidden within the overgrowth.

  Five hundred feet up the roadway…about one-tenth of a mile. Not much in distance, a short jog to get back to the car. About ten seconds…maybe fifteen. A lot could happen in fifteen seconds. Images darted across Decker’s brain, specifically, the inferno that had destroyed the Order of the Rings of God. How close had they been to that crematorium, saved by seconds from becoming ashes of death? The horrible snapshot became too strong a picture to stifle, even with the strongest of rationalizations. Decker’s growing concern for his son’s welfare outweighed a life possibly at stake. He had been holding Jacob’s arm. He tightened his grip, causing the teen to jump.

  “We’re going back,” he whispered.

  “What! Why?” the boy whispered back.

  “Because we’re too far out. Because I say so.”

  “But we’re almost there.”

  Martinez entered the conversation. “How much farther up?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think we’re close,” Jacob insisted.

  “You think?” Decker shook his head. “That’s not good enough. You don’t even know if this is the right turnoff.”

  “No, it’s the right turnoff. I’m positive.” Jacob regarded his stepfather’s skepticism. “I know I was stoned, but you notice things.” His eyes scanned the terrain. Then he squinted, jutting his head forward. “Is that light up there?”

  “Where?” Martinez asked.

  Jacob pointed. “See that speck of light about…I guess about a hundred yards to the right of that huge sycamore?”

  Though his night vision wasn’t perfect, Decker could discern faint illumination. He wasn’t sure if it was light or possibly an animal with reflective eyes, shooting back beams in the darkness. “Maybe there’s something.”

  “Y’all talking about the light over to the right and up?”

  “Exactly,” Jacob said.

  “About two o’clock,” Martinez said. “I see it. What do you want to do, Loo?”

  Decker said, “I want to go back before—”

  Suddenly, the dim light grew stronger and wider. There was no time to think…barely enough time to react. Decker threw himself atop his stepson, sending both of them belly-first onto the ground. Martinez, also a Nam vet, pulled Webster down as his own stomach hit the dirt. The bullets came by in a steady stream—thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack—whizzing past them over their heads. Remaining on his stomach, Decker dragged Jacob into the brush, keeping both of them horizontal as he moved.

  Some things you never forget.

  Seconds passed. Then the light disappeared. Nothing but darkness. Or maybe Decker just couldn’t see anything because he was pressed against the ground and had no line of vision. His heart was flying out of his chest. He knew he was going to survive this one, not for his sake, but for Jacob’s. The boy’s chin had been scraped raw. He was shaken. Other than that, he appeared all right.

  Martinez spoke first. “Think he has an infrared scope?”

  “Probably,” Decker said. “He’s a survivalist.”

  “Then we’re daylight,” Martinez said.

  Decker said, “If he can see us, that’s true.”

  “Then why isn’t he shooting?” Webster said.

  “Because he can’t see us,” Decker answered.

  Martinez said, “Brush is thick out here. Loo, if you crawl downward staying inside the woods, you stand a good chance. You go with Jacob and I’ll create a diversion.”

  “You do that, you might as well put a bull’s-eye on your forehead,” Decker said.

  “So what now?” Webster asked.

  Decker pulled out his cell phone. The signal was weak, but 911 was able to hear even through the static. “We stay put and wait for fucking backup.”

  Several patrol cars arrived minutes later, tires spitting out dust and gravel. Decker could see the cloud of grit even though the black-and-whites had settled down the road from their inconvenient campsite. The cruisers’ immediate arrival, complete with sirens and lights, did not draw out gunfire, leaving all in a state of limbo. Was the shooter still in the house? Had he or she taken off? Maybe the shooter was just biding time, waiting to pick off someone who came into view. It could be that the cops had parked out of the shooter’s line of view. The trick now was to get everyone down the road and safely inside the cars.

  Decker whispered into the mouthpiece. “There are four of us…five hundred feet up, on the right side of the road. How many cruisers do you have down there?”

  “Two…a third pulled up. Now we have three.”

 
“Okay. Right now, don’t do anything until we have more metal. You’ve got to call this in because I want a two-cruiser blockade at either end of the road, standard pattern, cars parked grill to grill. I’ll also need a couple of cars to come pick us up. Hold off on the flying power until you’ve delivered us. When you have more vehicles, I’ll give you further orders.”

  Decker cut the line.

  Jacob said, “We’re just going to wait here?”

  “That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Am I smothering you?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Good.”

  Minutes passed by. Distant plaints became loud wails. The road lightened, as light bars threw blue and red strobic blinks onto the dirt. And while the light gave Decker more visibility, it also made them more vulnerable. The phone rang.

  “We’ve got six cruisers.”

  Decker said, “Keep two where you are, send two up the road, and two to pick us up. Stay on the line and I’ll tell you when to stop. When you drive, lie low…literally. I don’t know if you’re in the perp’s crosshairs, but let’s not take a chance. From the sound of the shots, the perp’s location is about…seven hundred feet up from where you are on the right side of the road. We all saw a light. I don’t know if it came from a flashlight or from an electrical bulb. If it came from a flashlight, you’ve got a shooter on the move, so take precautions. If it came from an electrical bulb, we’re assuming that there’s some kind of outpost hidden behind the brush that has workable electricity. But we don’t know where.”

  “What kind of weapon do you think he used?”

  “Sounded like semiautomatic. I heard about six or seven rounds.”

  “We’ll come get you.”

  “Do that.”

  From where he was, Decker couldn’t see the cars, only the maraschino and aqua glow reflected from the rotating beacons. But soon he heard the motors kicking in, the grinding of the wheels. Seconds later, two vehicles came into eyesight, inching up the lane.

  “I see you,” Decker said. “Keep going…going…going, going…going…going. Okay, make a U-turn, pull to the right, and stop. Kill the motor and duck.”

  The cars went silent.

  “Good,” Decker said. “We’re directly to the right…not more than a hundred feet. Keeping your heads down, go over and unlock the passenger doors. Open them but just barely. I don’t want him to see any kind of swinging door. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He disconnected the phone. “You want the top car or the bottom one, Bert?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Top one’s fine.”

  “Okay, we’ll take the bottom one.” As soon as Decker detected the motion of an opening door, he spoke to Jacob. “This is what you’re going to do. You’re going to keep your head down and crawl over to the bottom car, to the backseat passenger door. You’re going to open the door very slightly, just enough to give you some space, then you’re going to quickly slide inside on your belly. Don’t close the door, because I’m going to be right behind you. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Jacob, whatever skin is not covered by clothing has a good chance of being scraped raw. No matter how it feels, stay down. When you get inside the car, I want you to remain horizontal. Lie on the floor until I tell you differently. Don’t even think about picking your head up and looking around. It’s very important that you do everything I tell you.”

  “I understand.”

  “Make as little commotion as possible. And I’m right behind you.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Your uncommon optimism is refreshing.” He arched his stomach upward to give Jacob room to maneuver. “Go!”

  Jacob slithered out from under his stepfather and slunk across the forested carpet. He was wearing short sleeves and that was a big mistake. His arms became scratching posts for organic detritus as twigs, rocks, pebbles, leaves, pinecones, quills, and spiky seed pods abraded his skin and worked their way under his shirt, scraping his stomach. The worst were the tiny stones that got caught in his stomach hair, pulling it as he skulked across the dirt. His legs were okay. Thank God for Levi Strauss and high-top Reeboks.

  He was supposed to be scared.

  Instead, he felt exhilarated.

  Decker always said that adrenaline was the ultimate rush. Jacob was surprised by how unhurried he was, savoring every moment of the unknown. But too quickly, it was over. He reached up, stuck his fingers under the steel door frame, and gave himself just enough clearance to undulate stomach-down into the backseat floor. A moment later, Decker was on top of him. He was talking into his cell phone.

  “You got the others? Good, get us out of here!”

  The cars went down the hill. Decker waited until the car was parked behind the police barricade. Then he got up, opened the door, and got out, offering a hand. Jacob took it and was liberated seconds later. He squinted as he stepped into harsh illumination coming from dozens of headlights. Peter was already on the phone.

  “I want three copters. I need light, and I need it now!” He turned to the first patrolman he saw. “Take this young man home.”

  “I don’t mind sticking around,” the boy said.

  “That’s interesting, Jacob. Now get out of here.” He turned to Martinez. “Let’s get a team going.” He frowned. “I suppose we need to find the place first.”

  “Lieutenant Decker?”

  Decker turned around. Sebastian Bernard—Bastard for short—a uniformed sergeant in his mid-forties with twenty years’ experience. He was tall and bald and had a big mole over the right corner of his lip—a Cindy Crawford birthmark on steroids.

  “Do you want to send a team inside?”

  “Yeah, I’m working on that.”

  “How many windows, how many doors?”

  “Fuck if I know. We’ve got to find the place first. Then we’ve got to find out if anything’s booby-trapped.”

  “We can send out a dog. See what pops up. Or we can lob in some smoke canisters.”

  “But that’ll make it doubly hard to see any booby traps.”

  “I can get masks.”

  “Masks will help us breathe; they won’t help us see.” Decker rubbed his neck. “Let’s send some cruisers up, and I’ll bullhorn them.”

  “Can I come?” Jacob asked.

  “No, you can’t come!” Decker shot back. “Are you out of your mind? What are you doing here?” Again, he turned to the uniform—a boy not much older than Jacob. “Didn’t I tell you to take him home, Officer?”

  The patrolman blushed. Jacob came to his rescue. “You know, I’ve been inside the place. At least let me draw you a map.”

  Bastard turned to the teen. “You’ve been inside?”

  Jacob felt himself going hot. “A long time ago.”

  “Better than nothing!” Bastard turned to the teen and waited.

  Decker bit back annoyance at being bested. “What do you remember?”

  “I only recall one room.” His face took on more heat. “You open the door and walk right into the bed. I recall a closet and a bathroom. Like I said, it was tiny. A shack.”

  “What about a kitchen?” Bastard asked.

  “I didn’t see one. Maybe I just didn’t notice it.”

  “Windows?” Decker asked. “How many?”

  “Windows, windows…” Jacob tried to bring up an image. “One on the front wall, next to the front door.” He fishtailed his hand back and forth. “One on the left…no, right. One window on the front wall, one on the right as you walk in, on the left if you’re inside. The closet door was on the left if you were facing the back wall.”

  “So you remember only two windows?” Decker asked.

  “And one in the bathroom,” Jacob said. “Frosted…small. You couldn’t climb through it.”

  “And no kitchen,” Bastard reiterated.

  “Not that I remember.” He thought for a few seconds. “I don’t think there was a kitchen. I think I remember a hot plate.”

  “How about
exterior doors?” Decker asked.

  “The front door. And there was a door…next to the closet on the left.”

  “Opposite the window?”

  “Yeah. I think when I stormed out of the place, I must have gone out that way and walked straight into the mountains. There’s absolutely nothing around.”

  “Okay, that was helpful,” Decker admitted. “Now get out of here.” To Bastard, Martinez, and Webster, he said, “We find the place, surround it, bullhorn first. If there’s no response, we’ll lob in a couple of canisters of tear gas and see if that draws anyone out. If there’s still no response, then we’ll send in the dog and weapons team to make sure the son of a bitch didn’t rig something on the doors and windows. If everything else is clear, we go in and see what we find. If the shooter’s gone—and I’m almost positive he is—we’ll have to do a grid search of the hills. As a matter of fact, we can start cordoning off the back area as soon as the copters get here and give us some light.”

  Before Decker made it into the police car, Jacob caught up with him. “I know you’re extremely busy. But I wanted to say bye.”

  Decker’s brain was buzzing with the immediacy. His eyes saw Jacob, but his attention was focused elsewhere. “Thanks for your help, Jacob, but you need to go.”

  Jacob smiled, but was dispirited by the response. “I know. See you later. Be careful.”

  Decker mussed his son’s hair and slipped into the driver’s seat of the cop car. By now the rutted pathway had become a parade of lights, a wall of vehicular metal. Recalling the approximate location of the pinpoint spot of yellow light—Decker used the sycamore as a landmark—he spotted the lean-to nestled in a copse of trees and scrub. It took about twenty minutes to get the cars in place, another twenty minutes to get the teams around the shack.

  He tried the bullhorn. That proved to be nonproductive.

  Next came the gas canisters shot through the windows. Glass shattered, spewing crystal shards and splinters into the night air. Smoke began to pour from the broken panes: dense, billowing gray clouds. Decker waited, but no one came through the doors. Maybe they were holed up in the bathroom. So he shot a canister through the small window in the bathroom.