by Jeff Carson
Wolf sighed. “I’m at the marina. The Tackle Box Bar and Grill.”
“I just left County now. I’m about twenty minutes away.”
Wolf frowned. “Why are you still at the hospital? I thought you went back to the station.”
“I did. Then I came back.”
“Why?”
“I started my missing persons search with the Colorado database and got an immediate hit on one of our vics. A kid named James Trujillo. Seventeen years old. Most likely a runaway. Last seen hitchhiking north out of Alamosa six years ago.”
Wolf pulled his eyebrows together. “Six years ago?”
“Six years ago.”
“So Parker Grey stayed close and kept killing. You said you found him. Where is he?”
“Parker Grey is lying on a gurney in Lorber’s exam room with a bullet hole in his head.”
Chapter 22
Wolf hit the end-call button and walked slowly to the bar, his thoughts wading through the revelation.
Maureen McKenzie stood with both hands on the bar, an expectant look in her bloodshot eyes.
Extending his hand, he gripped and shook hers, thinking of a dead trout as he did so.
“So? What can I do for you?” She coughed, and it was like a blast of radio static.
“I need to talk to you about this man.” Wolf produced the photo of Parker Grey and held it out.
His thoughts wandered again to the alarm at Kimber Grey’s house, and to the strange encounter at Olin Heeter’s, from which the adrenaline had yet to wear off. It had been a person. He was sure of it. And by the looks of it, the person had been hiding inside Olin Heeter’s place. If it had been Olin Heeter himself, he would have kept himself holed up inside. Only someone who was breaking and entering would have had reason to flee. And who was it? Definitely not Parker Grey.
“You listening to me, Sheriff?”
Wolf snapped out of his thoughts.
Maureen now wore red-framed glasses and stared expectantly. She took them off and dropped the photo on the bar. “What do you need?”
“Sorry … I need to talk to you about this man.”
She shrugged. “Sure. Parker Grey. Yeah, I recognize him. Like I said, go ahead and talk.”
“Do you remember the night of the Fourth of July, twenty-two years ago, when Parker was here with his family watching the fireworks? He received a phone call here, at the bar..”
She nodded. “Hell yes, I do. That was the last time I saw or spoke to him.” She grabbed a glass and put it under a tap, filled it halfway with beer and took a sip. “Used to be a regular here. Would come across the lake in his boat every Friday and Saturday night. You want one?” She held up her now empty glass.
“No, thanks. Can you tell me a little about that phone call he got?”
She nodded, the red skin under her chin wobbling. “Yeah. Why don’t we step outside?”
He followed her out the back door to a wooden deck over the water. The weathered slats squealed under her weight with each step.
She pulled out a crinkling pack of cigarettes and lit one, and then held the pack to him.
“No thanks.”
Maureen took a greedy pull and blew it out. “It was during the fireworks. I remember I was right here, watchin’ ’em over the lake, right there.” She tilted her head and pointed toward the moon. “And then my bartender came out and said there was someone on the phone lookin’ for Parker Grey. I remember being like, ‘We ain’t running a secretary service,’ and then Gabe—that was my bartender—said she was saying it was an emergency. So I stormed in and got on the phone, and this girl demanded to talk to Parker Grey. And I said, ‘Listen, honey. He’s not here in my bar, so you’re out of luck.’ And she started getting hysterical, like crying and stuff, and then I was kinda creeped out. I didn’t want to be the one not telling him about an emergency. So I told her to hold on, and I went out to the lawn, over there by the parking lot where everyone was set up, and started looking for him.”
She sucked another drag, ignoring the ash as it broke off and tumbled onto her arm.
“Can you describe the voice?” he asked. “Was it an older woman? A younger woman?”
“Younger,” she said without hesitation. “Early twenties or something.”
“Okay.”
“Or could have been a boy, I guess.”
He blinked. “If you had to bet, which one would you say it was?”
“I don’t gamble. But if I had to, I’d say it was a woman. I guess she sounded too mature to be a little boy.”
“So, you got the call, and then you went and found Parker?”
“Yeah. I found him pretty quick and told him he had a phone call and it sounded like an emergency. So he got up from his blanket and came in with me and talked. I didn’t hear what was said. But—”
“Sorry to interrupt, but when you came out to tell him, was he with his wife and daughter, Kimber?”
She nodded. “Yeah. They were sitting on the same blanket. I remember whispering in Parker’s ear, ’cause I didn’t want to freak out his wife and kid about the whole thing.”
“Okay, thanks. Continue please.”
“Yeah. So, he came in, and I watched him on the phone for the conversation. He was talking all intense into it, ducking down and covering his mouth when he spoke and stuff. And then he just hung up all of a sudden and stormed out.”
“Upset-looking?”
“Yep. Real upset looking.”
“And then what?”
“I went back out here to the rear deck, and everybody watched him get in his boat and tear outta here. A couple of the guys were calling after him, asking if everything was okay. When he didn’t answer, they was givin’ him shit.”
“So he left, without his wife and daughter?”
She nodded. “Yep.”
“And did you see him come back later?”
“Yep. I was out here again. Saw him drive up in his boat. I remember we were all yelling at him again. I remember he was ignoring everyone, just like when he left. Then he came in and got his wife and daughter, and they left.”
“He came in here?”
“Yeah. His wife was in here with her kid talking to people, looking to get a ride back home. But then he showed up.”
“Do you remember when that was?”
“Shoot. I have no idea. Midnight?”
Wolf put his hands on the wobbly wooden railing and looked across the water. He counted seven lit cabins on the western shore, a constellation on the dark mountain on the other side of the lake. The sky was clear and speckled with stars. A full moon hung overhead, its stripe reflection slicing the lake in two.
“Thanks for your time.”
“Yep.”
He walked back into the bar and then out the front, hearing raucous laughter as the door shut behind him.
He reached his SUV in the parking lot and stood patiently waiting for Rachette. A vehicle approached, but it was a black Mercedes Benz SUV with Idaho plates.
His cell phone indicated no missed calls, which was disappointing. He pushed Sarah’s number and listened to it go to voicemail after two rings.
With growing impatience, he gazed across the lake again. They’d pulled up those bodies, and now he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were happening over there. Right now.
“Shit,” he said under his breath and got in his SUV. Firing it up, he backed out and began the journey back to Kimber Grey’s cabin.
Chapter 23
Van Wyke’s ass was killing him as he pulled into the parking lot for the Cold Lake marina.
“Says the lake is named for a temperature inversion at fifty feet under the surface. Every twenty or so years the water will flip …” Darnell was droning on, looking at a Cold Lake brochure complete with a miniature map they’d picked up at the gas station outside of Rocky Points.
“Hello,” Van Wyke murmured, slowing to a crawl as his headlights passed over the reflective paint of a Sluice County Sheriff’s Departme
nt SUV.
Darnell snapped the brochure down and slipped it in the side pocket of the door.
“The guy’s outside his truck. I guess we should have expected this,” Darnell whispered, as if the cop could hear them. “They did just pull up eight dead bodies.”
Van Wyke kept quiet as they passed. The cop watched them approach and then became preoccupied by his cell phone.
They silently parked and got out of the car. Van Wyke stretched his arms and legs. It had been a grueling drive from Boise.
He sucked in a breath, smelling the fishy scent of lake water mixed with marijuana smoke.
“Damn,” Darnell said, meeting him at the back of the SUV. “Buncha hippies up here. You smell that? And with that cop right there?”
Van Wyke watched the Sheriff’s Department vehicle back up and peel out of the lot, the engine revving high before shifting to the next gear. The roof lights turned on and twinkled into the distance, following the dirt road along the edge of the lake.
“Let’s go.” He walked toward the bumping bar.
“Yeah. Black man, middle of Hicksville, biker bar … what could go wrong?”
Van Wyke ignored him and they went in.
Heads turned, but the patrons left them alone as they walked up to the bar. A young man with long hair and a hippy necklace put his hands on the counter.
“What can I do you guys for?”
Van Wyke leaned conspiratorially on his elbow and pulled out his PI license, which looked vaguely like a driver’s license and demanded zero respect, but more often than not, he found, did the job of loosening lips.
“I’m a private investigator, looking for a sheriff’s deputy. You happen to see one in here?”
The guy nodded eagerly. “Yeah. He just left.”
“Do you know where he went?”
The man frowned. “No clue. Hey, Maureen. Do you know where the sheriff just went? These men were supposed to meet him.”
The sheriff.
“I don’t know. Who are you guys?”
Van Wyke flashed a winning smile and then his PI license again. “Private investigators working with the local Sheriff’s Department. I was supposed to meet the sheriff here.” He snorted. “Typical. We don’t wear an official badge, so they don’t give us the time of day.”
She nodded with commiseration.
“I thought I saw him leaving. Do you know where he was going? Looked like he was hauling ass along the lake.”
“Oh, well then he was probably going up to Parker Grey’s. He was just asking about him.”
Parker Grey?
Van Wyke popped his eyes with eagerness. “You know exactly where Parker Grey lives? We’d love to catch him.”
“Yeah, just follow the lake around on County 74, then turn left on County 16. Follow it down to the south a mile or so. Can’t miss his place. The road dead-ends right on it. Only Parker Grey don’t live there no more. Just his daughter.”
Van Wyke nodded. “Really?”
“Hey, here he is. I think the sheriff just pulled up.” She pointed lazily out the window toward the parking lot, and sure enough a Sluice County Sheriff’s Department SUV was pulling in. “You can ask him yourself.”
Van Wyke nodded, his pulse ramping up. “Thanks.”
He stepped quickly for the door with Darnell following close. They marched to the parking lot, passing a different uniformed man who jogged past. It definitely wasn’t the sheriff they’d just seen. This deputy was much shorter and younger.
“Hey,” Van Wyke called to him. “You lookin’ for the sheriff?”
The uniformed man frowned and stopped. “Yeah. Why?”
“He just peeled outta here, went up the road along the lake.” Van Wyke pointed in the distance and thankfully saw the faint strobe of blue and red.
The deputy squinted and started walking back towards the lot. “Shit,” he muttered, and then started running.
“Damn,” Darnell said under his breath. “That was close. We were about blown. Where you goin’?”
Van Wyke hurried to the SUV. “We’re following them.”
Chapter 24
Kimber Grey’s eyelid twitched. She stepped out onto the wooden deck and all but collapsed into the railing. “Are you certain?”
“It’s been confirmed by our medical examiner at the hospital. It’s definitely your father’s body.”
She clamped her eyes shut. “I don’t get it.”
“Listen, I think you might be in danger,” Wolf said.
She looked at him and moved her lips, but made no sound. Her eyes looked fixed in some other time, confused as her mind tried reordering her past.
“My mother?” she whispered, asking herself the question.
Wolf cleared his throat. “What about your mother?”
“I’m just trying to figure out who did this.”
“There’s more to it. One of the bodies was a missing person from six years ago.”
Kimber’s face dropped and she looked at Wolf.
They turned at the sound of crackling tires and saw the bouncing headlights coming through the trees. A few seconds later, Rachette drove down from the woods and parked in front of the cabin.
He got out quickly and came to the base of the stairs. “Everything all right?”
Wolf nodded.
Kimber said nothing.
Wolf turned to her. “Kimber, I’d like you to come into town. You may be in more danger than you think. The discovery of these bodies, it may have triggered some sort of action with this killer.”
“Yeah, okay. You don’t have to convince me.” She walked to her doorway. “Just give me a second to get my things.”
He watched her march into the house. Then he stepped down the stairs and stood next to Rachette.
“What do you think?” Rachette hitched up his duty belt and looked out toward the water.
“I think we need to come back tomorrow, scour these woods, and get back up to Olin Heeter’s place and check it out.”
“Olin Heeter?”
Wolf nodded. “The place on the hill up there. I was just up there and had an encounter with someone.”
Rachette looked at him. “An encounter? What do you mean?”
“The house was dark, but somebody was inside. They ran out the front door and into the woods while I was around back of the place.”
“Jesus.”
They stood listening to the silent forest for a few minutes, hearing thumps and creaking from inside the cabin.
Rachette looked up the stairs to the cracked open door. “Where’s she going to stay?”
“The Edelweiss, or some other hotel in town.” Wolf cracked a smile at Rachette’s disappointed face. “Did you think I was going to say ‘with you?’”
“Pfft, what?” Rachette shrugged. “Yes. Yes I did.”
Chapter 25
“There it is.” Van Wyke shut off his headlights, his brakes screeching softly as he stopped on the dirt road. The dark and deserted-looking cabin loomed at the end of the road a hundred or so yards in the distance.
“What the hell were the cops doing here?” Darnell leaned forward and squinted. “And who’s Blazer was that?”
Van Wyke ignored the question and the SUV rocked as he shifted into park. “And Parker Grey doesn’t live here but his daughter does? How does that make any sense? His daughter? I don’t think we’re in the right spot.”
Van Wyke gazed out the windshield, surveying the dark forest uphill from the cabin. “There’s only one way to find out.”
He grabbed his pistol and stepped out into the cool night air.
Darnell stepped out, went to the back seat, dug into his laptop bag and pulled out his own pistol. With crunching footsteps, he walked around the back of the truck and joined Van Wyke.
A howling coyote sent Van Wyke’s pulse spiking, and Darnell shook his head. The forest surrounding them was pitch black and dense, and every little noise put Van Wyke on edge. He’d come so far, thinking about this moment for
over ten and a half hours, thinking about how he would get what he was rightfully owed back from the man who betrayed him.
Parker Grey. It either was him or it was not. There was only one way to find out. And if it wasn’t? They were going to have a long night ahead of them, and a long day ahead tomorrow, and that was with cops everywhere. They would have to canvass door-to-door and confirm residents’ IDs until they found their man.
Van Wyke clenched his teeth as he gazed down at the darkened cabin. If Parker Grey was their man, and this was the cabin they were looking for, there was a good chance a million in cash was inside. Van Wyke knew this because Van Wyke had watched the man take three million in cash, stacked neatly in a briefcase, twenty-five years ago.
And Van Wyke’s payment for hooking the man up with people who could buy seven million dollars’ worth of boats and real estate for cash, no questions asked? A signed quitclaim deed and the keys to a two-million-dollar house in the resort town of McCall, Idaho.
Van Wyke clenched his teeth, thinking of the trip up to McCall he’d made that fateful day, only to see a pile of charred ashes for a house, straight down to the charcoal foundation, surrounded by a flock of cops. That had been his payment.
Dustin Kipling, or Parker Grey, or whatever he wanted to call himself now, would regret doing that to him. He had made Van Wyke bend over backwards, calling in all sorts of favors with all sorts of unsavory people, for free. Van Wyke never worked for free.
“Looks like nobody’s home,” Darnell said.
“Mmm,” Van Wyke said. “You have a flashlight?”
Darnell looked at him and shook his head. “Damn. Nice preparation.”
Van Wyke pulled out his cell phone and looked at it. “This thing has a flashlight setting.”
“Oh yeah, me too.”
“Let’s not use them until we get inside. Until then, let’s keep out of sight. We’re gonna have to stick to the trees.”
He turned back toward the cabin and squinted. There was a gap in the trees to the left of the cabin, and it looked like the land just ended abruptly. There was a smooth horizontal silhouette cut against the shimmering lake. The top of a rise, he thought, or a cliff.
