by Natasha Deen
“Okay, but that’s not his fault—”
“Yeah, but having no friends. That’s his fault.”
I cut a quick glance at him, then turned back to the empty road. “Are you talking about him or yourself?”
“I may be dead but I’ve made friends. You, Craig, Nell, your dad, Nancy, Ebony and Buddha. Can you say you know more about Kent now than you did when he was alive?”
“Not really, but he’s not exactly in a talkative mood—”
“Exactly my point. He’s as incapable of making friends now as he was in life.” Serge’s hands peddled the air. “It’s just—” He sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I’m not making sense. It just seems to be such a waste to have been so…obsessed with your future that you forgot about your present.”
Something in his words made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I took my foot off the accelerator.
“What?”
“He was obsessed with his future, wasn’t he? Determined to get out of town, make a name for himself.” I pulled the car onto the shoulder.
Now it was Serge’s turn to give me the look like I was taking the switchback trail through logic and reasoning. “Okay.”
“How far would he go for his future?”
“Can you give me another hint?”
“The money,” I said. “We need to figure out where he was getting the money.”
“He was getting it from Dr. Pierson.”
“The thousand bucks a month from Dr. Pierson would barely have paid for his tuition and books. We need to corner Kent and make him talk.”
Serge watched me for a minute. “I’m still lost. Explain the connection.”
“Kent’s totally responsible with money, right? Pays his mom’s bills on time...and however he makes his money, he has enough to buy expensive clothes. Clothes, that when we asked him, he said was because of the women he was dating.”
“Which was a lie,” said Serge, “because he was gay. Is gay.”
“Right. So where did the clothes come from?”
Serge’s eyebrows pulled together. “A sugar daddy?” His frown deepened. “You don’t think he and Dr. Pierson were—”
“Maybe, but I doubt it. Plus, we’ve still got this mysterious family Kent was working for in Edmonton. Making deliveries.”
“I hear the emphasis in your voice, but if they exist and he wasn’t working as an escort, then what was he doing?”
“Think about it. What other illegal profession has deliveries?”
There was a beat of silence, then, “Drugs! I should’ve guessed...”
“We know Kent’s getting money from Dr. Pierson and all of it is being hidden from his wife. But the big question—”
“Where was Dr. Pierson getting the money?” finished Serge. “And the answer is drugs, not the stock market.”
“Right. He’s not investing his money,” I said. “There was nothing in his emails about trades or investment. There’s no mail coming in. There no evidence to support him playing the stock market. But he’s got tons of cash coming in, enough to pay for his family and Kent...”
“Hold on, hold on,” said Serge. “Let me think. Dr. Pierson must have been dealing for a while, right? All those trips his wife mentioned. Business is good, then along come Kent, wonder-science kid.”
“Dr. Pierson must have seen a chance to increase his profit by making a better drug.”
“What was Kent hiding in his bedroom. ADHD research, right? But ADHD drugs are great stimulants. They’re perfect for the overachiever who needs extra energy.”
“And Kent’s in med school, surrounded by overachievers.”
“So Dr. Pierson was using him as a mule,” said Serge. “No, wait, more than a mule. The research.”
“That field that burned. I wonder if that’s where they’d set up the lab. It was private and out of the way…”
“Makes sense. Dr. Pierson supplies the building and the raw materials. Kent plays mad scientist and sells the drugs. Then they split the money.”
“It’s a great scheme,” I said. “Till it all goes wrong.”
“But what went wrong?”
“Nancy said the city police had been calling her. Something about kids OD’ing.”
“Kent’s all about saving the world,” said Serge. “He’s selling the drugs, telling himself it helps students to do better at school. Then someone dies and he has to face reality that he’s nothing more than a dealer.”
“He wants to close the lab, but Dr. Pierson’s lifestyle’s been built on dealing. There’s a fight and Kent’s killed,” I said. “More than a fight. Kent had a needle mark on him. Dr. Pierson wasn’t going to let him walk. He couldn’t. And now the good doctor’s gone missing just at the moment we could’ve have confronted him with this,” I said. I put the car back in drive, checked the road, then pulled out into traffic. “I still don’t understand how that entire family could just disappear into the night. They couldn’t have left town—not without their wallets.”
“Unless they’re running with cash. If your theory’s right, then he’d have money.”
I snorted. “If I’m right.” I swung off the highway and back into town. There were too many questions, too many mysteries…too much of everything, except answers.
Chapter Thirty
I spent the next half-hour driving aimlessly. We were heading for the outskirts of town, on Garden Drive to loop back for the Tin Shack, when my headlights illuminated a figure in the distance. I slowed the car, squinted. “Who is that?”
“Someone drunk.”
I went into the other lane—no need to hit the stranger if they wove onto the wrong side of the white line—then slowed to see who I was passing. “Dr. Pierson!” I slammed on the brakes.
If he heard me, he didn’t acknowledge it. He kept weaving down the shoulder of the road. Streaks of dirt smeared his jacket and there were rips in his clothing.
I pulled ahead, then blocked his path with my car and kept the headlights on him. Getting out of the car, I called, “Dr. Pierson?”
He slowed, more because of the light than me.
“Text Nancy,” I said to Serge. “Dr. Pierson.”
“Be extra careful.” Serge stepped out of the car. “His body—it’s like a reverse negative.”
I walked towards him. “Sir? Are you okay?”
He turned his unfocused gaze to me. Blinked then blinked again. “Maggie?”
“Yes, sir. Is everything okay?”
He looked down at his dirt-caked hands.
So did I. “Sir.” I stopped walking. Took a step back, then another. “Sir, where’s your family? Where are Mrs. Pierson and Rori?”
He began to cry.
Oh, man.
“Sir? Your family?”
He shook his head.
Serge, get ready to zap him.
“Already there.” He took a position behind the doctor.
“Dr. Pierson. Where is your family?”
“I don’t know,” he sobbed. “I don’t know. It’s all gone. They’re all gone.”
“Did you—” Okay, wait. Don’t ask him if he’s killed his family. Ask something else. “What do you mean?”
He lurched toward me. “Rori—” He grabbed and held me by the shoulders. The smell of fire came off him. “She’s gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Missing! She took off, again! Loni’s driving around and I started walking, looking for anywhere she may be.”
“And you ended up here? Rori couldn’t have walked this far.”
He wiped the snot and tears from his face. “I don’t know how far she’s gone—”
The smell of copper and sweat came off his pores and I noticed a dull stain of red on his forearms. He knew exactly where his wife and child had gone and chances were, they were a
t least three feet under the ground.
“Help me—help me find them. I can’t lose Rori. And Loni—” His face went ashen. “She has to stay with me.”
I tried to tug myself free but he only tightened his grip. “Why don’t we call the police?” Big mistake. He tightened his hold on me hard enough to cut off blood circulation.
“Again? And have her taken away by child services? I have to find her.”
“Dr. Pierson, you’re hurting me!”
“Should I do something? I can grab his heart,” said Serge, moving toward him.
Only if you can use the electricity like a Taser. If not, then don’t do anything. Maybe Mrs. Pierson and Rori are still alive. We have to play along until the cavalry comes. “Dr. Pierson. Which direction did your wife go? Maybe we should go in the opposite direction to look for Rori.”
But he wasn’t Dr. Pierson anymore. He was a wild, primal thing, and what he would do if threatened was anyone’s guess.
He shook me. “Help me! You have to help me find her!” His breath was rank with fear.
“Okay! Okay!” I saw headlights in the distance. Nancy or one of her deputies.
“Who is that?” He twisted me around, held me tight as his narrowed gaze stared into the horizon.
The driver behind the wheel lit up the police lights and removed any doubt.
“Was this you?” He flung his forearm around my neck.
Dr. Pierson was too big for me to flip but I knew what to do. As his arm came around my neck, I gripped him on either side of his elbow, ducked my chin and tucked it into the small pocket of space I’d created. That gave me enough breathing room, not much, but enough.
I lifted my foot and brought it down hard on the top of his foot. He howled in pain, let go, and I started running for the car.
Behind me, Dr. Pierson grunted then gave chase.
“I’m sorry, Mags,” said Serge.
There was another howl, sharp and thin, then the thump of Dr. Pierson as he went down.
I turned, looked.
He was curled into a ball, screaming and holding his knee.
“I figure electricity is electricity,” panted Serge. “If it could stop his heart, surely it could work on a less lethal body part.”
If it hadn’t been for witnesses, I would’ve given him a high-five. “Good work,” I said as the patrol car pulled onto the shoulder.
Frank stepped out of the vehicle and I stepped away.
“He says he didn’t kill them,” Nancy said an hour later, as she handed me a cup of tea and pushed the plate of store cookies my way.
“Jails seem full of people who say they didn’t kill anyone. Him, Doug Meagher.” I wrapped my hands around the warm mug and blew a cloud of steam toward the cabinet.
“I can’t speak for Dr. Pierson, but Doug was telling the truth.”
“What about Dr. Pierson’s story about Mrs. Pierson going to look for Rori? Can you track her car’s GPS?”
“It’s not as simple as that. If she had committed a violent crime, sure. But as a missing person, no, the police just can’t ask dealerships and GPS services to pull up private information on their subscribers.”
“Too bad,” I sighed. “That would have made it a lot easier.”
“It’s Dead Falls, so all’s not lost. I’ve put the word out. If someone sees her car, they’ll phone in.”
“Dr. Pierson said something weird earlier, just before Frank pulled up.”
“Just one weird thing?” Nancy asked, a wry smile on her lips.
“About his wife. He said they had to stay together, that she couldn’t leave him.”
“That’s not unusual for men like Pierson.”
“But to say it like that—”
“The idea that someone is your possession is what lets them justify anything they do in order to keep that possession.”
“But did Dr. Pierson ever strike you as that kind of guy? The one who always had to know where his wife was at all times?”
“No,” she sighed. “They did everything to stay away from each other.”
“Exactly. And...” I scooted closer to her chair. “I may have done some digging around before calling you to their house today.”
She dipped her chin.
I scooted back. Took another look at her face. Scooted back some more. “Now, in my defense—”
“Talk fast and justify later, kid.”
“I went through his emails. He doesn’t have any mail from his brokerage company.”
Whatever she was expecting me to say, it wasn’t that, because the thunderous look rolled from her face and confusion took its place.
“Dad has mutual funds and those guys are always sending snail mail and email. I know Dr. Pierson is supposed to be doing all the stock stuff himself, but don’t you think it’s weird that there’s no research or materials in his house?”
“You know the worst thing about you?” said Nancy. “You have a terrible way of mitigating the punishment you deserve by being so perceptive.”
“Does that mean there’s a chocolate cake in my future?”
“Your distant future and don’t push it, kid.”
“If he literally can’t divorce her because of the money, then maybe that’s why he’s so freaked out. Not because he killed her but because if she gets Rori and files for divorce, the lawyers will start looking into his finances…”
“I hear you.”
Since she was listening, I gave her a quick rundown on our theory about Kent, Dr. Pierson, and the drugs.
She stared off into the distance. “He travels a lot. Says it’s for work but who knows who he’s working for…” A focused light came into her eyes. “I’m going to get Frank to start tracking the last six months of Pierson’s activities. See if there’s anything we can connect.” She pulled out her cell and started texting. “We can start with his vehicle, call up the history of the last few places he went. I’m going to have them recheck the pictures on Kent’s computer. How much you want to bet they were steganography?”
She finished her text, sent it off with a whoosh, then set down the phone. “Thanks for the help, kid. I’ll put in a good word for you with your dad.”
“Put in a few. Try to include the words, please, don’t, ground, and her.”
She chuckled and waved me to the door.
I headed to the exit, then turned back. “Hey, when will the lab tests come in?”
“What lab tests.”
“For Dr. Pierson’s hands.”
Her face went blank. “His hands?”
“The blood on his hands.”
She cut a quick glance to the other deputy in the office—who was now watching me with keen interest—then stood and came to me. “Wow, kid, you sure you’re not in shock?” When she got closer, Nancy put her hand around my shoulders and spun me to the exit. “There was no blood on his hands,” she said in a low voice. “Whatever you saw was otherworldly.” She squeezed my shoulder. “And if what you saw was right, you better go and let Nell know that she’s not going to be babysitting Rori, anymore.”
“Large double-double, please,” I told the cashier on the other side of the Tim Hortons drive-through.
“You think a coffee going’s to help her?” asked Serge from the passenger seat.
“Nothing’s going to help Nell,” I said, “but at least it will give her something warm to hold on to.” I’d debated not telling her right away, to give her a good night of sleep—a final night of rest—before I told her about my suspicions regarding Dr. Pierson and his family. But Nell would’ve killed me for doing that. Spare no pain. Tell the truth.
I pulled the car ahead, paid the cashier and took the drink.
“We should give her a head’s up.”
“And what should we text?” I pulled out of the drive-through lane and hea
ded onto the main road. “Hey Nell, got some news about Rori. Be there in ten? She’ll see through it right away.”
“I know,” he sighed, “but this is going to hit her hard. I wish I could be there.”
I reached over and took his hand. “You’re doing the right thing. The whole point of us being a team is so we can divide and conquer. I’ll tell Nell and—”
“—and I’ll search for Rori and her mom.” His gaze flicked toward the sky. “Did you text Craig?”
I nodded. “But he hasn’t texted back.”
“I haven’t seen any ferriers flying overhead, which means no one came to get Rori and Mrs. Pierson, and now, they’re the confused dead.”
“If they’re together—”
“It won’t be so bad,” I said, “but if they’ve been separated...”
“At least I had you.” Serge ran his hands over his face. “I don’t want to think about Rori, alone and confused.”
Me either. “Dr. Pierson smelled of smoke. If he buried them, I bet it was around where the fire was.”
“That seems risky. What if someone came by?”
“No one was going to come by. The fire came, went...the arson guys already took their samples...Dr. Pierson was smart. The ground’s been disrupted and raked over. Who’s going to notice anything if he adds two graves?”
“Hey!” Serge tapped me on the leg then pointed to the right. “Is that Craig or another ferrier?”
I twisted my head to follow the direction of Serge’s finger. “That’s Craig and he’s heading to the fire site.” I did a quick safety check for cars, then stepped on the accelerator.
A few minutes later, I pulled into the entranceway of the path. I put the car in park and climbed out, zipping my coat up as I went. “Can you see him?”
Serge shook his head.
We started down the trail, my feet leaving tracks in the shallow skiff of snow. There was a muffled thump of wings behind me, then, “Hey guys. What’s going on?”
