‘Oh, the hacker, you mean? Yes, Drew told me about that. The issue of legality concerned him, but decided it was a risk worth taking. Anyway, he got knocked back. He left a message but she hasn’t returned his call. Drew was trying to think of another way around it before speaking to you again. He wanted something more positive to report. Ironically, Vern was so good he could probably have found himself.’
‘If he wasn’t completely off the grid. Let’s hope that’s not the case. Although Terry may be able to help us out there. He spent enough time under. Listen, to move things along I think Terry and I are going to split. He’ll take Vegas while I remain here. We may speed things up that way.’
‘Okay, Mike. Whatever you think best. We’re in your hands. There was one thing, though.’
‘Fire away.’
‘Someone called Sheryl at home. Said his name was Fraser and that you’d know who he was.’
I tensed immediately. I had told the RPD cop that we were hunting for the owner of the minivan and knew the young man’s family. In retrospect that may have been a mistake. ‘What did he tell her?’
‘Nothing. He asked Sheryl to pass on a message to the two men searching for her son. Said that he wished you both well, but that if he ran into you two again there would be a different outcome next time.’
I relaxed a little. It sounded as if the cops had not reported their run-in with me and Terry. Then I thought of something else. ‘Donna, do you know if Fraser asked for our names?’
‘I don’t believe so. He didn’t mention either of you by name, either. Sheryl said the guy was extremely vague.’
I blew out a long breath. We had taken a risk but it looked to have paid off.
That was pretty much it. I had barely killed the call when Terry raised a finger. ‘Explorer,’ he said. ‘From our three o’clock.’
We were facing west, and the Ford was driving straight towards us from the north. I raised the scope, located the Explorer’s windscreen. It rolled to a complete stop at the traffic lights.
‘Female,’ I said, my voice a virtual whisper. ‘Black hair. Stunning. If she signals right and turns into the hotel entrance, I’m betting this is our girl.’
The light changed to green. The SUV pulled away, already in the right-hand lane. Its indicator came on. It turned into the entranceway leading to the Days Inn, Roswell.
17
You could tell by the way she walked and the haunted look in her eyes that Chelsea van Dalen had a story to tell if you took the time to get to know her well enough. Beyond the natural perfection of her facial features, the young woman was a bit of a waif. Her movements were lissom, but this svelte creature we had found appeared weak and fragile to the point where you felt a harsh look might crush her as easy as a Christmas tree bauble.
Initially startled by our presence outside the door to her room, the young woman relaxed considerably the moment I explained who we were and what we were doing there. Terry and I were starving, so we managed to persuade her to join us in the eatery back across the road from the hotel. We ordered drinks and a side of nachos with cheese ahead of our main meals. To my surprise, our willing guest opted for a toppings-heavy burger with onion rings on the side. Once tucked away inside the pub-restaurant, and having introduced herself to us, Van Dalen opened up as if relieved to have someone to share her misfortune with.
She explained that she first met Jackson in a bar in the Gateway district of Las Vegas, close to the Stratosphere hotel and casino. She had arrived thirty minutes late for her date with boyfriend Bruce Kelper, and when she walked in he was playing pool with a man who gave his name as Vern Jackson. The three spent a couple of hours together before Vern headed out on his own. Later that night, he called and asked if the two of them would like to join him the following morning for a drive and a hike. Kelper readily agreed, and Van Dalen told us she tagged along willingly, though she recalled being a little disappointed that it wasn’t going to be just her and her boyfriend spending time together that day.
‘What’s your relationship with this Kelper bloke?’ I asked, enjoying a nice chilled bottle of lager and helping myself to a handful of nachos.
‘We’ve been friends for a while. High school. Recently it started looking as if it could be more, but we’re not quite there yet. Or, at least, we weren’t until this past week. We’re now an item, I guess.’
‘And how do Jackson and Kelper know each other?’
‘I didn’t know at the time, but I’ve since learned that they met at a casino last year, and whenever they can find time they hook up in either Vegas or LA.’
There was more there, but I decided we could swing back around to it. ‘So you two joined Vern for a drive and a hike. Where did he take you?’
Van Dalen revealed that, while the excursion had been Vern’s suggestion, it was Kelper who chose the destination and drove them in his own truck. ‘After a couple of hours of driving we hung a left onto a dirt road. It was not at all comfortable, but Bruce drives a four-by-four and after around twenty miles or so of bouncing along listening to our moans he finally pulled over and we all got out. The hike was brutal. It wasn’t much more than a mile, but a lot of it was on loose shale and we climbed a thousand feet or more very quickly. Poor Vern was clearly suffering by the time we got to the summit of Tikaboo Peak. That was when I realised where we were and what we were looking down at in the valley below us.’
‘Which was?’ Terry asked.
‘Tikaboo Valley. Which includes Area 51 out on Groom Lake.’
I couldn’t help myself. I turned my head to look at Terry, and our eyes met. Although the possibility of Vern having gone there was my initial suggestion, it had been based on nothing more than supposition and knowing the base was in the general area when you headed north out of Vegas. I had no idea what his presence there meant, only that it had to be more significant than even I had initially suspected.
Except that I was almost entirely wrong.
‘It was Kelper’s decision to go up there, right?’ Terry clarified with Van Dalen. ‘Vern had no say in it?’
She shook her head. ‘Neither of us knew where we were until we reached the peak and Bruce told us what we were seeing away in the distance. The base was still more than twenty-five miles away, so it was impossible to make anything out in the distant haze. He handed us some binoculars to use, told us to check out the base and all of the fencing and signs around it warning people to keep out.’
‘Did he explain why he had chosen that hike? To me it sounds like a very long drive for a very short walk.’
I nodded. Terry had made a good point.
‘I knew he was a bit of a UFO buff,’ Van Dalen said. ‘Just not how much until we reached that point. Bruce told us that there used to be another vantage point called Freedom Ridge, which the government scooped up in a land grab. Though at the time they still officially denied the existence of Area 51, clearly they were trying to keep sightseers away. They said it was a remote detachment of Edwards Air Force base, a place they called Homey Airport. But when they denied access to the ridge, that left the peak as pretty much the only place you can go and still see Area 51. Bruce told us he’d been up there many times, often at night. That he’d seen all kind of things going on there, including some weird-looking flying objects. Said he knew they were testing new aircraft out of there, but he seemed pretty convinced that not all of the developers or developments were human.’
‘And how did you and Vern take that?’ I asked.
She shrugged. Van Dalen wore a loose ‘Flight of the Conchords’ tee and cut-off shorts that revealed shapely, skinny legs. Costume jewellery in a variety of bright colours adorned her wrists and neck.
‘I’m a free spirit. I have my mind open to all possibilities. I couldn’t deny his beliefs, because I had no proof he was wrong.’
‘And Vern?’
‘His response was a little odd, to tell the truth. His head hadn’t seemed to be in it at all. He’d been the one to suggest we go out, but it felt like he was
less interested in where we were and what we did than in just being away from Vegas. Of course, I now know why.’
Our server arrived with the food. We requested some more drinks and waited until she’d cleared out before continuing.
‘Chelsea, I think it’s time you told us what’s going on,’ I said then. ‘How is it that you ended up here in New Mexico? Why was Vern’s car dumped on the side of the road? And I’d also like to know where Vern and Bruce are right now.’
Van Dalen finished her soda. Took a bite from her burger and popped a couple of fries into her mouth. A battle seemed to be raging inside her head. You could see her brow almost rippling as the various emotions tore through her. She took on a pained expression when she spoke next.
‘When we left Tikaboo Peak we drove out to a spot on the road between Alamo and Rachel where the Black Mailbox used to be. Bruce told us it was really only a fun mailbox which visitors wrote on and was used to post letters to aliens, that sort of thing. Mainly it was a place where enthusiasts got together to hang out. Some asshole stole it – probably some dickwad from the government – and it was never replaced. People still meet there, though. So we were there, talking with a bunch of other people with an interest in UFOs, when the discussion turned to Roswell and the crash site. There was a lot of anger that the remnants of the fiftieth anniversary had been stripped away, tours stopped and visitors no longer made welcome. There was some enthusiasm for heading down there to protest later in the year when it turned warmer. By this time, Vern had become even more edgy. He was on alert every time a vehicle flew by.’
‘So the three of you decided to go on the Roswell road trip,’ Terry said.
She shook her head. ‘Not right away, no. And in the end it never really happened the way we all discussed up there. It was just the three of us who took off together. And only then because of what happened later that day.’
‘Which was?’ Terry prompted.
‘On our way back to Vegas, Vern said he thought we were being followed. Me and Bruce laughed it off, but then Bruce started wondering about a car which seemed to slow as we did and quicken to keep pace with us. It hung back at about the same distance for miles. So he spotted a place where we could pull over, and slipped onto the side of the road and stopped. As the car drew alongside, it slowed almost to a crawl. It was eerie, because the side windows were tinted and we couldn’t see into it. But then it took off and we all laughed in relief. I think we convinced one another that it was either a government car checking us out having been to Area 51, or just someone headed in the same direction who slowed down to make sure we were okay.
‘Anyhow, by the time we got back to the edge of Vegas we were all starving, so we stopped at a diner. When we came out afterwards the same car was there. Its engine was running, and as we entered the lot it drove past us and then took off again. We thought that was it, but when we got to the truck all of the tyres had been slashed.’
‘Do you remember what the vehicle was?’ I asked. ‘The one that followed you, I mean.’
‘Sure. Bruce mentioned it. Said it was an old Chevy. It was green and not in great condition.’
I looked at Terry once again. ‘Garcia and Barclay.’
He nodded.
The two arseholes from the desert on the other side of town.
In between consuming her dinner and putting away her second Coke, Chelsea van Dalen spent the next twenty minutes telling us that, after a great deal of persuasion from Vern, she and Kelper joined him for the road trip. They got a cab to Vern’s hotel, where he collected his things and his minivan. They then picked up her stuff from her apartment followed by a fleeting visit to Kelper’s house. They got on the road and drove through the night. At various points during their journey, Vern revealed more about what was going on. In many ways it was a typical Las Vegas story. The one where a gambler obtains a line of credit and then cannot repay it, resulting in a couple of heavies paying them a visit.
‘So Vern actually told you it was all about a gambling debt?’ Terry asked.
I knew why he sought the clarification. Nothing in Vern Jackson’s financials suggested he had any such debt, and there was no evidence either that he was the kind of gambler who might require a line of credit.
‘Sure.’ The willowy young woman nodded. She shoved her plate to one side and mopped her lips with a serviette. I thought she couldn’t be more than twenty-two, maybe a year either side. She had the kind of confidence that came with being a natural beauty, yet at the same time it felt like a façade. An exterior behind which she hid away her true self. ‘He told us that was why he’d wanted to get out of Vegas for a while.’
‘Except, why did he then go back?’
She looked at Terry with a puzzled frown. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, Vern claims to be in debt to a casino or maybe even a few, is being hounded by hired muscle who go so far as to follow him out of Vegas, yet still he returns.’
‘Well, only to collect his things and his Kia.’
I shook my head this time, stepping in line with my friend’s thinking.
‘No, that’s not quite accurate. That happened only after your friend’s truck was vandalised. By then you were already back in the city. At the point at which you all stopped to eat, it doesn’t seem to me that Vern had any intention of leaving Vegas for good.’
Van Dalen had to think about that for a while. I could see her eyes flicker and gleam in the low light as her mind turned it over.
‘We did talk a lot about the Roswell journey, but you could be right,’ she said eventually. ‘And now that you mention it, I think that maybe he urged us to pack up some gear and join him more for our sake than his. I think the slashing of the tyres unnerved him, but looking back I’d say that was because we had now been dragged into his shit.’
‘And what exactly was that shit, Chelsea? Because I’m not buying this gambling debt nonsense.’
At this point, she put a hand to her head and looked away from us for a few seconds. Clearly she was troubled at the thought of betraying a confidence. When she turned to us again, her eyes were sorrowful and moist.
‘You asked me earlier why the Kia was dumped and where Vern was. What happened was that when we eventually found the site of the crash, we spotted two guys out on the plains who definitely were not there for the same reason as we were. Neither was dressed for a hike across the desert. They didn’t see us, but we followed them because Bruce thought maybe it was the same guys who’d slashed his tyres. We didn’t have to go far, because we spotted the car in the distance parked up right alongside the minivan. They hung around, but we waited them out. They eventually took off and we remained where we were a while longer before heading back to the minivan and doing the same. We found a different track about halfway back to the highway and decided to take that, thinking maybe they would be stopped on the side of the road somewhere further along. To be honest, none of us knew what we were doing. We were just scared.’
‘So you got away,’ Terry said. ‘What happened next?’
‘We’d booked into the hotel under my name, so we drove back here. We talked it over for a while, and Vern became convinced that they must have had a tracker on the minivan. He didn’t believe it was possible for them to have followed us all the way from Vegas. That sounded credible to me and Bruce. He and Vern checked out the car, but they found nothing, and had no clue what they were even looking for. So we hatched a plan… of sorts. Bruce hired an SUV and drove out of town following Vern. The idea was for them to leave the car out in the desert, but also to try and make people think we were just on the UFO trail. Vern bought some maps and marked Corona on one of them. We thought that was cool because they gave Vern and Bruce shit when we stopped off at a bar in the town to ask directions to the crash site. I guess we thought it would be kinda funny for them to have others stopping by and doing the exact same thing.’
‘So what happened after they got back?’ I asked.
Van Dalen looked at me. Bl
inked away a couple of stray tears. ‘Well, that’s just it. They left here to do exactly what we’d planned. And that was the last time I saw either of them.’
18
Well this is awkward.
Their humiliation in the desert at the hands of the two Brits still needling both men, Barclay and Garcia had reported back to their boss and were instructed to head out to the Main Street saloon in Corona to talk to the owner. One snakeskin boot through the doorway of the bar, Garcia froze as his eyes swooped in on the jackets marked with the letters F, B, and I. The man and woman wearing them at a table in the centre of the bar turned their faces towards him and Barclay and they also went still. For a moment it was exactly how Garcia had always imagined it to be in one of those wild frontier western saloons when a stranger walks in and the whole place becomes so quiet you could hear a mouse fart. All that was missing was the final fading note from a honky-tonk piano.
He could not tell if there was any hint of recognition coming his way as he went through the possible permutations. Deciding that the pause was in itself enough to attract attention and maybe even a little suspicion, he turned his head to Barclay and hissed a warning.
‘Keep cool, man. We gotta play it through now.’
Ignoring the two agents, Garcia strode across to the bar and caught the eye of the woman standing behind it.
‘Two shots of tequila. Don Diego Gold if you have it,’ he said, taking a stool at the end directly facing an elderly woman who looked as if her face was slowly melting. The woman’s eyes were cast downward, her mouth hanging open. In front of her sat seven shot glasses, two of them still on the go.
Barclay eased onto a stool beside him and leaned across to whisper in his ear. ‘What the fuck, Ricardo?! We should have turned around and got the hell outta here.’
Garcia dipped his head low and dropped his voice lower still. ‘Yes, because that wouldn’t have looked at all suspicious. Those two agents woulda followed us out and then who knows what might’ve happened. Take it easy, man. We sit, we drink, we leave. Unless they leave first. Otherwise we drive around and come back later to ask what we need to ask. Just keep your shit together.’
Cold Winter Sun Page 12
