The Body in the Landscape (A Cherry Tucker Mystery Book 5)

by Larissa Reinhart

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you saying, Mike?”

  “You’re a bit irrational and excitable right now.”

  “And Peach is Bob’s date and Bob Bass has a lot of money and a TV show, so he deserves some protection. If Bob gets pissed at the lodge, it could go belly up and you’re out of a job.”

  “This is not just about me, Miss Tucker. I have other people to protect.”

  “Protect them by allowing some crazy guy to terrorize us? Two men are dead, Mike.”

  “Both accidents. Unfortunate accidents. Do you think I’m not sick with worry about all this? It’s not just the lodge at this point. I’ve got to keep everyone calm. Interrogating Peach Payne in the middle of the night could rouse everyone into a state of panic.”

  Todd’s fingers dug into my arm. “We’ll catch a little sleep and talk about this later.”

  “It is a good idea,” said Viktor.

  “I’ll take over the watch, Viktor,” said Mike. “You can get some sleep too.”

  “I’ll take over the watch.” My eyes felt dry, my body ached with fatigue, and exasperation hammered the back of my head, but I was not interested in sleep. Particularly sleep ordered by a group of men who would not recognize urgency, even if it was gnawing on their hindquarters.

  “Come on, Cherry.” Todd tugged on my arm. “Let’s get some rest.”

  “You too?” I yanked my arm from his grasp. “Unbelievable. I’m not some little kid y’all can send to bed.”

  Mike settled his hands on his hips. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Viktor shuffled to the men’s bedroom. “I will use ancient grains to make the breakfast. You will enjoy.”

  “I sure hope ancient grains is a euphemism for a chicken biscuit.” I stomped to the women’s bunk room, muttering to Todd, “These people are blind. Blind! How can they ignore facts? Peach did leave tonight. Deed is out there. Lesley is dead. We need answers. Who is the target?”

  “Let’s take a detour from this. Just for a minute.” Todd held open the bedroom door, peering inside.

  I slid inside the bunk room. LaToya rolled over in her sleep and Peach snored into her pillow.

  I looked up at Todd and whispered, “You can’t come in here. It’s women only.”

  “It smells better than the men’s.”

  I glared through the open doorway at Mike. “I’m not feeling too keen on men right now.”

  “I know that doesn’t mean me.”

  I sighed and toed the doorframe. “It should. You complicate things for me.”

  “You know that’s not true.” At the fierceness of his whisper, I glanced up. In the dim lighting, his cerulean blues met my anxious gaze. “I’m about as uncomplicated as you can get.”

  True. And not true. A complexity I didn’t quite fathom lay beneath his mellow surface.

  Just like the complexity going on behind the scenes at Big Rack.

  “I need to know how Jayce Deed fits into all this. And how he’s connected to Peach.”

  “You’ll figure it out. Same as you’ll figure out how to help Cody.” Todd planted a quick kiss on top of my head. “I believe in you, Cherry.”

  “I should probably clean up,” I mumbled. “And think on this additional complication.”

  “Go on.” Todd placed his hand on the small of my back and gave me a quick shove into the room. “I’ll be here when you need me.”

  That was a solution for a problem I did not want to consider.

  In the bathroom, I peeled off muddy clothes until I had stripped to my boxers and t-shirt, then rinsed the mud out of my sweats and began working out the water for a drip dry. With each hand wring, I let my thoughts squeeze out the weekend’s perplexities, keeping my focus square on Big Rack and off my love life.

  Who gave permission for Jayce Deed to take a UTV and camp in the preserve? Someone who could override Jeff Digby. Who else was there? The Woodcocks? Maybe they hired Deed to photograph the lodge grounds. And didn’t know Deed actually planned to terrorize the hunt party and possibly murder Lesley Vaughn?

  That hypothesis lacked a few things. Namely, sense.

  Sakes alive, this was confusing, I thought. Maybe the men were right and I was overreacting. I eyed myself in the mirror. The circles beneath my eyes matched the deep hue of the weekend’s recent storms. Not my best look.

  I glared at the mirror. “What’s wrong with you? Rookie Holt needs evidence. You said you’d help her.”

  There was one person who might answer some of my questions. My reflection’s grin gleamed with malevolence.

  “The men should have thought more carefully before sending me to bed in the same room with Peach,” I whispered. I spun from the mirror. Leaving the light on, I cracked the door and slipped out, allowing the bathroom light to cut a wedge across the floor.

  “Peach,” I whispered. “Peach, you awake?”

  She muttered a curse and rolled over.

  “Peach, can I have a cigarette? Where’s your bag? I’ll get them out myself.”

  “I don’t have any cigarettes,” she hissed. “Leave me alone. It’s the middle of the night.”

  “That’s what I thought.” I shook her shoulder. “Get up.”

  She flung an arm to shoo me. “Go away.”

  I snagged the arm and yanked. “You’re going to tell me all about Jayce Deed and why you let him shoot at Bob and Rick.”

  Peach flipped over and pulled her arm into her body, dragging me with her. Her tight, gym-built muscles bunched beneath my grip, and my hand slid off her arm. She grabbed my wrist and squeezed. “I don’t need to tell you anything. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Who are you to tell me what to do?”

  I bit my lip from crying out. A lifetime’s accumulation of other’s disapproval and disdain rushed through me, roaring for revenge. I pulled back my left elbow and popped Peach in the nose.

  Regrettably, I was kneeling and using my weak arm. She blinked several times then lunged. We toppled to the floor, scratching and pulling hair. Tussling like a couple of Jerry Springer girls.

  “What is going on?” called LaToya.

  A moment later, the bedroom light blared, revealing my embarrassing supine position. Peach sat astride me, while I grappled her shoulders. Peach swung at my neck, missed, and smashed her fist into the floor.

  I curled up, slammed my forehead into her nose, and shoved her off.

  She toppled back, holding her nose.

  “Crazy, white trash bitch,” screamed Peach.

  “You tell me what your boyfriend Deed is doing in the woods.” I grabbed a fistful of Peach’s overly moisturized hair and yanked until her chin jutted toward the ceiling.

  She grabbed my ear and wrenched. I howled in pain.

  Fists hammered on the bedroom door.

  I swung a knuckle at Peach’s chin and missed. She chucked one back and caught my shoulder.

  Icy water hit my face and drenched my Talladega t-shirt. I blinked off the water, looked up, and found LaToya standing over us, a cup in her hand.

  “You crazy women chill.” The stink-eye LaToya delivered held the level of disdain only found in teenagers annoyed with adults.

  I ducked my head. Water dripped off my ponytail into my lap.

  “Everything’s fine,” she hollered to Mike. LaToya folded her arms over her chest, reminding me of a stance my deceased Grandma Jo often had taken with me. “What’s going on?”

  “Peach snuck out in the night and we tracked her to a camp. The camp of a Jayce Deed, who’s supposed to be a photographer but is in reality a pellet gun-wielding psycho intent on scaring the pants off someone in this tournament.”

  “How do you know this?” said LaToya. “Did you see her at this camp?”

  “Well, no. But I saw her sneak out. When she came back, she told Viktor she’d gone out to smoke. But she does
n’t have any cigarettes.” I pointed my trigger finger at Peach. “Ha.”

  “This girl is a lunatic,” said Peach. “I don’t know any Jayce Deed. And how did she see me sneak out? Where were you?”

  “Finding the diablo pellets your boyfriend, Jayce Deed, shot at the bunkhouse tonight.”

  “Pellets?” LaToya lifted her lip. “Some guy shot at us with a Red Ryder?”

  I stood, dripping LaToya’s cold shower onto the pine planks. “Peach, you’re going to fess up right now or I’m going to show Bob all those awful videos you took of him.”

  “Bob’s not going to put up with this bullshit.” Peach sneered. “He sees you for what you are, you piece of trash. You think playing detective makes you look smart or something? We’re laughing at you behind your back. You’re just an ignorant hillbilly.”

  My last nerve hammered.

  “Hillbilly? Peach, because you’re from California, you may not realize this.” For this important lesson, I used a heavenly directed finger point. “In Georgia, we are not hillbillies.”

  “True.” LaToya nodded. “Around here, she’s just called country.”

  Thirty-One

  I left Peach with LaToya. I had a feeling LaToya already didn’t care for Bob’s girlfriend and she hoped Peach’s guilt meant a chance for her to stay in the tournament. After borrowing a pair of thermal coveralls from LaToya, I snuck out of the bedroom. Mike dozed by the window. Jeff had locked his rifle back in the kitchen pantry, but the night vision binoculars still lay on the great pine table. I grabbed a pair, a leash, and bent to rouse Buckshot from her hearthrug nest.

  “Come on, girl,” I whispered. “It’s go time.”

  With a long yawn, she stretched, shaking out each leg. Showing her the leash, I led her to the door. At the scrape of the lock and rattle of the doorknob, I held my breath. I glanced back, but Mike’s chin still lay on his chest. A tea cup rested on the windowsill.

  “That’s what Viktor gets for not bringing coffee,” I muttered.

  We slipped into the dank and murky pre-dawn. Buckshot’s collar jangled and after a brisk body shake, she bounded forward. I pulled her back and led her around the side of the bunkhouse.

  “Usually I take Todd with me on these kinds of excursions, but I think it’s best not to involve him.”

  Buckshot cocked her head.

  “It’s personal,” I said. “Besides, Todd has many skills, but tracking is not one of them. I don’t want to endanger you, but I could sure use your help. As Abel’s faithful companion, you have a dog in this hunt, so to speak. Are you ready to do your part?”

  Her bushy tail whipped back and forth.

  “Buckshot, we’re hunting Jayce Deed’s campsite. When we get there, you need to beef it up, act real tough, okay? Pretend you’re a German Shepherd or a Chihuahua or something. None of this ‘everybody’s my best friend’ stuff.”

  She gave a happy yip and swerved into a bush.

  “This is serious,” I said, hauling her from the bush. “This Deed may have murdered Lesley. For what reason, I don’t know, but I do know he most likely has a pellet gun and a knife. I’ve got to take him by surprise. You’re here to let me know if that hog or any other danger’s nearby.”

  Catching a scent, Buckshot rushed forward, pulling me with her.

  I scanned the forest with the thermal binoculars, hunting for the unnatural boxed shape of the tent. We threaded through the trees, heading in the general direction I had taken with Jeff and Todd. To plunge into Deed’s campsite with no weapon other than a human-loving dog was foolish and irresponsible. I winced, thinking of the harangue I would have received from my Uncle Will and Luke. But action needed to be taken before Deed got away. I’d no luck persuading anyone to mind me thus far. I was tired of being ignored. And feeling stalked made me furious.

  And maybe a bit irrational.

  At the edge of the campsite, I squatted and pulled Buckshot into my side. The UTV, another Mule, had returned. All appeared quiet in the tent.

  “No barking,” I told Buckshot, unclipping her leash. “I’m going inside that tent. I want you to wait outside, just in case Deed pulls out a weapon. I’m hoping to disarm him before he knows what’s going on. I’ll leave the opening unzipped so you can come when I call. Remember, be fierce.”

  I took her tail wag as agreement and led her into the campsite. I held a heavy-duty flashlight in one hand, the binoculars in the other. Buckshot carried her leash in her mouth. At the entrance to the tent, I sank to my haunches. Buckshot sat, wagging her tail, and dropped her leash. While giving her head a good scrub, I finger motioned the plan, ending with the zip-it lips.

  She licked my finger.

  I counted to three, said a prayer, then charged in. Swinging the flashlight up like a baton, I crawled forward until my knees hit a body, poised myself above, and tried to determine which end was the head.

  “Why’re you back?” said No-Mustache/Jayce Deed’s sleepy voice.

  Pointing the flashlight in the direction of the voice, I turned on the beam and blasted Deed full in the face. He blinked and held up his hand.

  “What’re you doing?” he said. “I can’t see.”

  “You’ve been caught. Fess up now.”

  “Who are you?”

  I flashed the light around the tent, snatched the air rifle, then shined the beam in his face. “I’ll shoot you and it will hurt like hell.”

  He rose onto his elbows. “Are you with the hunt party?”

  “Who are you stalking? Bob Bass? How do you know Peach?”

  “Come on, man.” Deed rose to sitting. “Put the gun down. I’m not doing anything.”

  “Liar. You’re not a photographer. What’s your real reason for being out here?”

  “Dude, seriously. I’m camping. I have permission to be out here.”

  “The hell you are. You don’t even have wieners or beer. You and Peach are working together to terrorize the hunters.” I dug myself a hole and hoped he jumped in. “I got her to confess back in the bunkhouse and now we’re holding her.”

  “Wieners?” Deed’s nostrils flared and the soul patch rose with his chin. His sneer bared angry white teeth, before laughing. “Her confession should have made my intentions clear.”

  “So y’all are some kind of activists. But this isn’t about processed meat. Peach is taking videos of Bob Bass looking like an ass. To make fun of him?”

  “There’s more to it, obviously.” Jayce raised a manscaped eyebrow. “But humor is an important part of our campaigns. It grabs the attention of those with less complex modes of thinking.”

  “Huh?”

  “My father started Ban Sapiens back in the eighties. Before he was mauled by that grizzly. I had to pick up where he left off.” The toothy smile he flashed reminded me of a gator’s. Ironic, I thought, for an herbivore. “The first step is always education. Civilization needs to understand the pointlessness of our existence. Humans are destroyers. I’m not just talking existential nihilism. That’s old news. Ban Sapiens is a practical effort. The eventual culmination will be eradication.”

  “You want to eradicate humans?” I felt compelled to point out that absurdity but decided my pearls of wisdom would be wasted on this swine lover.

  “Humans are the most unnatural beings on this planet. Do you realize what the world would be like without us?”

  “Kind of like that tree falling in the forest with nobody around to hear it. Why aren’t you making a fuss of this contest publicly? What’s the point of all the guerrilla tactics?”

  “Where have you been? Demonstrations are so twentieth century. Who cares about TV news when you can go viral and reach more people? Revolutions start with guerrilla fighters. It’s all about using shock campaigns to catch people’s attention.” His tone reminded me of a preacher’s and his hands flew with his speech, eager to share his vers
ion of the good news. “This invitation provided the perfect opportunity to ruin Bass’s TV show and upload footage that will disgust his fans and show the world what an idiot he is with a few well-timed, startling but harmless gags.”

  “The skeet shoot incident wasn’t harmless. Someone could have gotten killed.”

  “Peach told me about that incident. Not my idea, but how wonderfully effective. Humans invent a device to train them how to kill and the very device turns on them. So very Frankenstein. Bob Bass goes from hunter to huntee.”

  “That wasn’t you?” I lowered the gun to my lap, but left my hand on the stock. “I don’t get it. Do you hate Bob Bass or humans in general?”

  “We chose Bass as one example to showcase the inanity of humans. There are others on the list. I could read you our mission statement.”

  “Another time. You got your footage. Go home and leave the rest of us alone.”

  “I’m not supposed to go home yet.” He cocked his head, drew forward on his haunches, and simian-like, rested his fists on the floor. “Did you hear that?”

  “What do you mean, not supposed to go home?” I couldn’t get a handle on Jayce Deed’s size of screwball. Poor Lesley had nothing on this guy. “Are you planning on chaining yourself to that hog or something? Because I’m telling you right now, that isn’t going to work.”

  “You don’t understand. I pity your simple mind.”

  “Was Lesley helping you? The monster swine guy? Did you drive him out here?”

  “Yes. We dialogued, found mutual points of interest, but in the end, our goals weren’t aligned.”

  “So you killed him?”

  “Shh.” Deed’s hindquarters rose with his head. “Something’s out there.”

  “It’s just Buckshot. A dog.”

  Hearing her name, Buckshot whined and scratched the tent flap.

  Deed’s arms flexed. I swung the lightweight rifle too late. Deed pushed forward, knocking me hard across the chest. I fell back. The flashlight flew, spiraling its beam around the tent. The gun jerked from my hand.

  Deed ripped the binoculars from around my neck, then grasped my throat with one hand. His knees pinned my arms to the ground and seat pressed into my pelvis. Releasing my neck, he snatched the flashlight and switched it off.