“You got to take a leak again?”
“Fucking Mormon beer is like water.”
“You’re not going to answer my questions?”
“I think you’ve gone off the deep end, dude. I think you’ve finally lost your marbles. Those dreams you’ve been having? You’re having a psychotic break.”
“So that’s a no? I need to hear you say it.”
“I went to your place to ask you for the journal, but you weren’t there. Yeah, I broke in. I’m sorry, okay? It was my goddamned journal too. It was all of ours! Penelope just happened to keep it. That’s all. It was mine too.”
“It was a personal journal. It was Penelope’s deepest thoughts on wilderness, on the west, on her love of these places.”
“I got to take a piss.” Hayduke walked off in the opposite direction from the last time, into the darkness beyond his Jeep and then past Silas’s rented Explorer. Silas watched him disappear into the darkness. It was raining harder now. He felt his short, spiky hair growing damp. He wanted to rise and get a hat from the Explorer, but he couldn’t stand. His legs felt as if they had been set in concrete. His phone buzzed again to remind him that he had an unread text. He fished it from his pocket and flipped it open, rainwater gathering on the LCD display.
He read the text and then read it again. Everything he thought he knew about the world for the past five years collapsed around him.
THE GUNSHOT WAS so loud that Silas jumped, knocking over his beer and almost dropping his phone in the fire. The sound echoed off the Straight Cliffs. The second shot made him stand up. The roar of the discharge was very close. Along with the second shot Silas heard an explosion of air. Then there was a third and fourth shot in rapid succession. Silas stood, peering into the darkness, the sound of the gunfire still reverberating in his ears.
Hayduke walked past his Jeep and into the circle of light by the fire. He held his .357 Magnum revolver in his hand. “Well, Dr. Pearson,” he said, “It looks as if you’ve gone and fucked up another car. Hope you took the insurance on that rental, because they are going to be pissed at you.”
“What have you done?”
“I shot the shit out of your Ford.”
Silas took a step toward Hayduke. “What have you done?”
Hayduke raised the revolver and pointed it at Silas. “It’s not what I’ve done that you should be worried about. It’s what I’m about to do. Sit the fuck down.”
Silas didn’t move.
“I have two rounds left in the cylinder. Either one of them would take a limb off from this distance. Now: Sit. The fuck. Down.”
Silas stepped back and sat on the edge of his camp chair.
“Give me your phone.” Silas hesitated. Hayduke thumbed the hammer of the heavy pistol. “I swear to God I’ll blow your brains all over this campsite. Give me your phone, now.” Silas took the phone out. “Just toss it, underhand.”
Silas did as he was told. Hayduke caught the phone with his left hand. He flipped it open and the LCD display shone brightly in the dark night. Hayduke grinned his wolfish smile. “How sweet. Your girlfriend Katie Rain sending you a warning. I wondered how long before the FBI connected the dots. I guess I didn’t see them making that connection though.”
“Josh, why?”
“It’s still fucking Hayduke to you, Dr. Pearson. And we’re not getting into any of that right now.” Hayduke closed the phone and tossed it into the fire. “What we are going to do is play a little game. That’s right; don’t look at me like that. We’re going to play a game called ‘Hayduke Lives.’”
“Josh, I’m not going to play any game with you—”
“You’ll play it or I kill you right now.”
Hayduke Lives. Figures, thought Silas: Edward Abbey’s final book, one most critics thought he hadn’t actually finished before he died.
“Here’s how the game works. I’m going to drive away right now, and you, well, you’re going to have to figure out what to do next. All on your own this time. No Hayduke to lead you to the next clue. No Hayduke to lead you from one dot to the next. But here’s the thing, Dr. Pearson. We’re not the only players in this game, so you had better figure things out quickly.”
“What are you going to do?”
“If I told you, I’d spoil the end of the story, wouldn’t I?” Hayduke started to back away. The light from the fire caused the long, silver barrel of the revolver to glow red. He reached the Jeep and opened the driver-side door. “If you get up I’m going to shoot your leg off and let you bleed to death out here.”
Hayduke sat down in the Jeep; its engine roared to life. Silas lunged toward the vehicle, but Hayduke was already gunning the engine, its thick tires spinning in the wet mud. He grabbed the vehicle’s canvas roof, tearing at it for a handhold, but Hayduke was accelerating and Silas was thrown from the vehicle onto the road. He lay there in the muck and watched the Jeep race up the track and disappear over the rise. He heard it once more after a few seconds, and then he was alone in the darkness, the rain falling heavily now, the storm pressing down on the circling desert.
37
KATIE RAIN SAT IN HER motel room. It was early in the morning, and Silas Pearson had just left to search the desert for the misanthropic Josh Charleston, AKA Hayduke. She had watched him drive off in the rented Explorer and then called Dwight Taylor.
“What have you got?”
“Not much. Silas has gone off to look for Charleston. He’s still pretty much convinced that Smith is behind all of this. The photo that his son pulled off of Tabby Dingwall’s website showing McFarland, Pearce, de Silva, Dingwall, and Charleston all together has him more convinced than ever that Smith is responsible for each of their deaths, and that Charleston is the last man standing.”
“That’s one interpretation.”
“Well, he’s gone looking.”
“That’s a needle in a haystack operation.”
“He knows him pretty well. He figures he’s out in the Escalante somewhere.”
“Big somewhere.”
“What’s going on with Smith?”
“We’re taking him today.”
“Where?”
“He’s flying back to Salt Lake this afternoon. He probably figures he’s dodged the bullet, leaving town for DC and now coming back. Misdirection. We’ll take him at the airport.”
“You going to be there?”
“No, the Salt Lake field team will make the arrest. My job is done, for now.”
“What about Barry and Isaiah?”
“That’s my reward for the last two years. We’ll nab Barry while Smith is on the plane. I get to go and have a visit with Jacob Isaiah in person at the same time. Agent Nielsen is in Escalante now. You guys should hook up for coffee. Bring your vest and your piece.”
“We’ll see. I’m on vacation right now, remember?”
“You know that the Special Agent in Charge doesn’t like this one bit. You’re much too close to Pearson.”
“That’s the way it goes, Dwight. If he wants to fire my ass, he can go ahead. Sometimes I think I’d rather be teaching, working eight months of the year and lying on a beach in Togo the rest of the time.”
“Bodies getting to you, Rain?”
“No, it’s all these living, breathing people that are getting to me. Smith’s flagrant misappropriation of funds and its contrast to a good, honest investigation like that of the de Silva case makes me wonder what I’m doing.”
“Don’t talk like that. The Smith thing is a solid bit of police work. This guy has siphoned nearly twenty million dollars of public money from the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act into the pockets of people like Eleanor Barry and Jacob Isaiah. In return they’ve made a million dollars in donations to Smith’s Political Action Committee. He’s going to run for president using money that he stole from the American people.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t a good case. I’m just saying I wish I never had to think about it. I’d rather be finding whoever killed Penelop
e de Silva.”
“Me too. We’re getting there. The lab called and told me they will have ballistics to me later today. If I get anything interesting, I’ll call. Thanks for doing what you can on this, Katie.”
“I’m doing it to protect Silas. That’s why I’m here.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
“MY DAD LEFT early. He’s out driving around the Monument looking for Hayduke … for Josh Charleston. I’m getting pretty sick and tired of calling him that ridiculous name.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Grab some breakfast. Then I’m going to plug in and see what else I can find out about what Josh has been doing these last few months.”
“He’s been in the hospital, hasn’t he?”
“Sure. But not the whole time. He disappears for days and weeks at a time. He says he’s camping. Hiking. I don’t know. I think he’s scheming.”
“What’s he scheming?”
“That’s what I want to find out.”
“KATIE, IT’S DWIGHT. Where are you?”
“I’m in my hotel room. Are you still at work? I thought the Smith thing was over hours ago. By the way, you looked good standing behind the Special Agent in Charge during the interview. What is he, five foot six? You looked like the not-so-friendly giant.”
“The Smith operation is over for now, but Quantico is open twenty-four hours. I just got a call about ballistics. I leaned on them this afternoon; I was getting antsy. We’ve got a major problem. Remember last year we dug slugs out of the rock along the highway over Comb Ridge? The slug we dug out of the stone at Dance Hall Rock matches the ones we dug out of the stone at Comb Ridge.”
“Charles Nephi, Smith’s former aide!”
“No, not his slugs. Josh Charleston’s!”
“Holy shit.”
“There’s more. I’m not happy about this. Remember when Silas’s store went up in flames? We had two cameras from traffic intersections in Moab that we needed to check. It got put on the back burner but I called about it today. Josh Charleston’s Jeep was on one of those cams, going into and out of Moab that evening. I’ve got Eugene on it. He’s got a small team in Escalante, and is mobilizing Garfield County Sheriff’s deputies. Have you heard from Silas? He was out looking for Charleston.”
“He’s out in the Monument right now. I haven’t heard from him all day. I’ll try calling and texting him as soon as we get off the phone.”
“I hope for his sake he hasn’t found him.”
38
ROBBIE PEARSON LEFT THE PIZZA parlor on Main Street at nine. It was dark out and the rain was falling hard on the pavement. It was cooler and the world smelled fresh. Despite this, Robbie wore a look of deep concentration. He had spent most of the day on his cell phone and using the internet. It had only been in the last few hours that he had learned what Hayduke had been doing for the last few months.
Robbie was surprised to see that his father’s rental wasn’t parked outside of the hotel. He walked to the second-storey landing and unlocked the door. The room was hot and stuffy but empty. He put down the stack of printouts on the table in the kitchenette, washed his hands, and got a can of beer from the fridge. He was taking a deep drink when there was a knock at the door. He put the beer can down on the counter and walked across the room. He looked through the peephole and then opened the door a crack.
“Hey, shit, is it ever fucking raining!”
Robbie hesitated.
“Good Christ, I’m wet. You mind?”
“Yeah, sure, of course.” Robbie stepped aside.
Hayduke brushed past him. “You got a beer?”
“Sure.” Robbie walked to the kitchen—aware of the stack of papers on the table—and got another beer from the fridge. He handed it to Hayduke in such a way that the young man turned away from the kitchen to take it.
“Hey, where’s your pop?” Hayduke sucked the beer can and belched.
“I don’t know. He went out into the Monument to look for you.”
“Didn’t find me. What did he want?”
“He was worried. I guess he was afraid that whoever killed Penelope and the others was coming after you next.”
“Smith? You didn’t hear? They busted that motherfucker this afternoon!” Hayduke held his beer aloft and howled. “About fucking time. That slimy bastard was defrauding the American people while Jacob Isaiah and Eleanor Barry were getting rich. I always knew this plot to build a resort out there in the goddamned Monument was a hoax.”
“So, you’re not worried?”
“No way. Smith did Penny and them others. It will come out in a matter of time.”
“I guess so.”
“Hey, can I use the pisser?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Hayduke emptied the can into his mouth and then walked into the washroom, the can still clutched in his hand. As soon as he closed the door Robbie heard the water in the sink turn on. Robbie quickly gathered up the papers from the table. He looked around the room for a place to hide them. The water went off in the bathroom. He heard urinating in the toilet. Robbie opened the cupboard beneath the sink and stuffed the papers there next to the dish rack and cleaning products. He figured he had another twenty seconds or so before Hayduke was done with the toilet.
“Doing the dishes?” Hayduke was behind him. Robbie hadn’t even heard the bathroom door open. He started to turn. The sound of urinating was louder. “Don’t turn around.” Hayduke’s voice was different. He didn’t affect the oafish tone that Robbie had become accustomed to.
“I’m just looking for a cloth to clean up—”
“Cut the bullshit, Rob. We both know what you’ve got in your hand. And I said don’t turn around.”
“Are you still in the bathroom?”
“Little trick with an empty beer can. Fill it up with water and balance it on the toilet seat. It sounds pretty convincing, doesn’t it?” The sound stopped. Robbie could feel Hayduke behind him, could smell his thick odor and hear him breathing.
“Now, you’re going to have a little nap.” Robbie tried to turn and swing at the man, but Hayduke clamped a solid arm around him, pulling the smaller man into his grasp. Rob struggled, throwing his elbow into Hayduke’s gut, then ribs. He pushed backwards, the kitchen table toppling over, but Hayduke pulled Robbie even tighter, his massive arm choking Pearson’s windpipe. Then there was a cloth over Robbie’s face; he struggled to breathe amid the sickly fumes. The room swam around him and then he lost consciousness.
39
KATIE RAIN STOOD IN FRONT of Silas Pearson’s door. The rain drove down hard on the blacktop but under the awning of the second-storey rooms she was dry. She had determined that Silas’s car wasn’t in the parking lot, but there were lights on in the room, and she figured that Robbie was there. The BC license plates on his aging Tempo had been a giveaway. She rapped on the door and stood back out of habit. There was no answer. She knocked again, louder. Still nothing.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed a number. “Eugene, it’s Rain. Where are you?”
“I’m at the BLM office.”
She gave him an address. “I think we have a problem.”
They met at the manager’s office and Special Agent Nielsen produced his badge and asked for a key. Rain and Nielsen went back to the room. “What makes you think something’s up?” asked Nielsen as they climbed the stairs.
“Robbie’s vehicle is here but no one is answering. He drove it downtown earlier in the day and I assume he drove it back again. He isn’t in the laundry or at the vending machines.”
She knocked on the door for a third time. “FBI, open up,” called Nielsen.
He slipped his sidearm from its holster and inserted the key in the lock. He opened the door and quickly entered. The room was empty. The kitchen table had been upended and a chair had toppled over backwards. There was an empty beer can on the floor and the room spelled faintly of the brew.
Nielsen quietly went to the bathroom and
pushed the door open. Nothing but another beer can on the floor.
Katie looked around the room. She sniffed the air. “We have a problem.”
“What?”
“You don’t smell that?”
“A little like rubbing alcohol?”
“Chloroform.”
Nielsen had his phone out and was dialing. “I need a serious incident response team at the following location.”
GARFIELD COUNTY SHERIFF’S were the first to respond on the scene. The members of the FBI team who arrested Eleanor Barry arrived shortly after.
Nielsen had assembled them outside the door to Silas’s motel room. “Here’s the situation. We have the probable abduction of one Robert Pearson, white, male, twenty-four years old. Suspect is one Josh Charleston, AKA Hayduke. Ballistics analysis received earlier this evening suggests that Charleston is a person of interest in the murder of Penelope de Silva, the stepmother of the missing young man. Charleston is also a person of interest in at least two other murders, and maybe more. Assistant Special Agent in Charge Dwight Taylor has issued a nationwide APB for Charleston. We’re going to coordinate with Kane County Sheriff’s, the BLM, and state troopers. Our goal is to find Charleston and Pearson, pronto. We are also on the lookout for Pearson’s father, who many of you know: Silas Pearson. He went out into the Monument this morning to look for Charleston and hasn’t been seen since. At present we have no reason to believe that foul play is involved in his absence—he’s likely just stuck somewhere in the rain—but let’s see if we can’t pick him up.
“We’ve spoken with the owner of the pizza place down the road, and we know that Pearson left there shortly after nine.” Nielsen looked at his watch. “That means Charleston has got a two-and-a-half-hour jump on us. State troopers have got roadblocks on Highways 12, 22, 89, and 24 as well as I-15. Charleston is more likely to use gravel roads or Jeep trails for flight, so the BLM is providing maps of all the possible routes out of Escalante that he might have taken, and will provide officers and vehicles suitable to search those areas. Finally, we know he’s armed and dangerous. Proceed with extreme caution. We’ll have more resources in a few hours; Taylor is scrambling air recognizance out of Salt Lake City, but with the storm and the low ceiling it’s going to be challenging to find him that way. This is a foot race, folks, and if we want to bring Pearson back alive, we’ve got to win it. Let’s move.”
The Same River Twice Page 15
