by Jeff Carson
“Sheriff,” the man said.
“Thank you.” Wolf stepped into the humid room. It smelled of fried bar food and beer, stale cigarette smoke and marijuana. The jukebox in the corner played a hair metal song from the late eighties and two women who were probably roadies back then danced in front of it while their boyfriends played pool.
Hair, leather, and chains were the overriding theme of the twenty-plus patrons inside the bar.
Wolf walked to the bar and a younger man with a tight ponytail and hemp necklace greeted him with a raised chin. “Sheriff?”
“Hello. I’m looking for someone named Maureen McKenzie. Worked here twenty-two years ago.”
The man nodded. “Yeah. She owns the place. She’s in back.” He thumbed towards a doorway behind him with raised eyebrows.
Wolf nodded and then reached down to pat his pocket when his phone began vibrating. It was going nuts.
He pulled it out and looked at it, seeing that he’d been granted a tiny sliver of cell reception, and now two voice messages and a text message were coming in.
Wolf looked at the text message. It was from Rachette.
Call me immediately. Found Parker Grey!
Wolf’s pulse jumped. My God, after all these years, he turns up? And right now as they start investigating him again?
Looking at the voicemails and seeing they were both from Rachette, he skipped listening to them and called instead.
As the phone purred in his ear, he turned and studied the inside of the Tackle Box Bar and Grill. A few people averted their eyes. The mood had definitely shifted at the sight of his badge and gun to a somber impatience. People wanted to get back to using the F-word loudly, drinking their fourth or fifth or tenth beer before they got back in their cars and drove on the dirt roads to their houses.
“Hello, I’m Maureen.” A husky voice came from behind him.
“Hey!” Rachette’s voice exploded in his ear. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you!”
Wolf turned around and held up a finger to the heavy-set red headed woman. She frowned, shook her head, and walked away.
“What’s going on?” Wolf asked. “Parker Grey turned up?”
“Yeah. I’m on my way to you right now. Where are you? I thought there wasn’t any cell reception at her house.”
“I’m across the lake at the Marina. The Tackle Box Bar and Grill.”
People nearby turned resentful eyes towards him, clearly wary of more cops showing up and ruining their Saturday night. Wolf walked away from the bar and retreated to a quiet corner.
“I just left County now,” Rachette said, his voice still excited. “I’m about twenty minutes away.”
Wolf frowned and switched phone hands. “Why are you still at County? I thought you went back to the station.”
“I did. Then I came back.”
“Why?”
“Because there’ve been some developments.”
“What?”
“I started with the Colorado missing person’s database, and got a pretty immediate identification of one of them. A kid named James Trujillo. Seventeen years old. Most likely a runaway. Last seen hitchhiking north out of Alamosa.”
“Okay, and … what’s with Parker Grey? Where’s he at?”
“Wait a minute. It gets better. Or worse. Turns out James Trujillo went missing six years ago.”
Wolf froze. “Six years ago?”
“Six years ago.”
“So the killer … so Parker Grey kept killing? He stayed close.”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Parker Grey is here.”
Wolf frowned. “Sounds pretty close to me. Where? What do you mean, here?”
“Here, as in at County, sitting on a gurney in Lorber’s exam room with a bullet hole in his head.”
Wolf hit the end call button and walked slowly to the bar, his thoughts wading through the revelation.
Maureen McKenzie, the woman Wolf had come to see 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 from Wolf’s father’s file and held it out.
Wolf’s thoughts wandered again to the alarm at Kimber Grey’s house, and to the strange encounter at Olin Heeter’s house, from which the adrenaline had yet to wear off. It hadn’t been some sort of encounter, Wolf reminded himself. It had been a person. He was sure of it. A person who had been hiding inside Olin Heeter’s place. He thought of the movement he saw in the window. Now that person was in the woods outside Kimber Grey’s. Who? The Killer?
Definitely not Parker Grey.
“…that? Sheriff, hello! What the hell is going on?”
Another coughing fit snapped Wolf out of his thoughts and he saw that Maureen now wore red framed glasses and she was holding up Parker Grey’s picture. She took off her glasses and dropped the photo on the bar. “What do you need?”
“Sorry … I need to talk to you about this man.”
She shrugged. “Sure. Like I said, go ahead.”
“Do you remember the night of the Fourth of July, twenty-two years ago, when this man was here with his family watching the fireworks, and he got a phone call here?”
She nodded. “Hell yes, I do. That was the last time I saw or spoke to Parker Grey.” She grabbed a glass and put it under a tap, filling it halfway with beer and taking a sip. “Used to be a regular here. Would come across the lake in his boat every Friday and Saturday night.”
Wolf nodded.
“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?”
Wolf followed her out to a wooden deck over the water that squealed under her footsteps.
She pulled out a crinkling pack of cigarettes and lit one, and then held the pack to him.
He shook his head.
Maureen took a greedy pull and exhaled. “It was during the fireworks. I remember I was right here, watchin’ em over the lake, right there.” She tilted her head and pointed to 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 over to the lawn over there by the parking lot where everyone was set up and started looking for him.”
She sucked another drag and ignored the ash as it broke off and tumbled up her arm.
“And can you describe the voice?” Wolf asked. “Was it an older woman? A younger woman?”
“Younger,” she said without hesitation. “Early twenties or something.”
Wolf nodded. “Okay, and so you—”
“Or could have been a boy, I guess.”
Wolf blinked. “If you had to bet, which one would you say it was?”
She took another drag, this one slow. The cherry brightened, and her eye winked shut against the smoke. “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.”
Wolf nodded. “You got the call, and then you went and found Parker?”
“Yeah. I went and found Parker, 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 talked and stuff. And then he just hung up all a sudden and stormed out.”
“Upset looking?”
She nodded while taking a drag and exhaling. “Yep. Looked real upset.”
“And then did you see him leave?”
“Yeah. 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.”
Wolf looked at her. “He came in here?”
“Yeah. They were in here 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 clouds were moving out, and the moon was full, its stripe reflection slicing the lake in two. “Thanks for your time.”
“Yep.”
Wolf walked back into the bar and then out the door, hearing raucous laughter as the door shut behind him.
Standing in the parking lot, he watched as a vehicle approached. It was a shiny black Mercedes Benz SUV with Idaho plates. Not Rachette.
Checking his cell phone, he saw no missed calls. With a shake of his head he pushed Sarah’s number and listened to it go to voicemail after two rings. He looked at the digital clock on the screen and then across the lake again. He couldn’t shake the feeling that things were happening over there. Right now. And it was all because they’d pulled up those bodies.
“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 17
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 Department 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 got preoccupied by his cell phone.
They silently parked, got out of the car, and Van Wyke stretched his arms and legs. It had been a grueling drive from Boise, but they were here now.
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 here?”
Van Wyke ignored him, watching the Sheriff’s Department Vehicle back up and peel out of the lot, the engine revving high before up-shifting to the next gear. They watched as 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 P.I. 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, here 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 P.I. license again. “Private investigators working with the local Sheriff’s department. I was supposed to meet the Sheriff here.” He exhaled with disappointment. “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 into the lot. “You can ask him yourself.”
Van Wyke’s pulse jumped. “Thanks.” He stepped quickly for the door.
Darnell followed close, and they marched to the parking lot, and approached a different uniformed man who was jogging towards them. It wasn’t the Sheriff they’d just seen. It was a much shorter, younger deputy.
“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 18
Kimber Grey’s eyelid twitched. She stepped out onto the wooden deck and all but collapsed into the railing. “What?”
“It’s been confirmed by our Medical Examiner at the hospital. It’s definitely your father’s body.”
She shook her head, squinted her eyes shut, and gripped her hair with a maddening gesture. “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. She continued to shake her head, her eyes fixed in the past, trying to reorder events in her mind.
“My mother?” She whispered, asking a questio
n to herself.
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 looked at Wolf; her pupils shrank to pinpoints.
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.
“No,” Kimber said.
“Kimber,” Wolf turned to her. “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. You—”
“Yeah, okay. You don’t have to convince me.” She walked to her doorway. “Just give me a second to get my things.”
Wolf watched her march into the house and then he walked 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 and 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 Wolf. “Really?”
He nodded.
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 Kimber going to stay?”
“The Edelweiss, or some other hotel in town.” Wolf watched Rachette’s face drop. “Did you think I was going to say with you?”
“Pfft, what?” He twisted his face. “Yes. Yes I did.”
Chapter 19
“There it is.” Van Wyke shut off his headlights, his brakes screeching softly as he stopped on the dirt road. The cabin loomed down and to the left a hundred or so yards, dark and deserted looking.
