by Mark Young
Travis would soon be within his grasp.
Briefly, Creasy closed his eyes and savored that moment soon to come. His fingers — like eagle’s talons — closing around Travis’ neck, slowly squeezing life from the man he so despised.
A man who stole the only thing Creasy treasured.
Chapter 6
Sam started barking before they reached the river.
“Shut up, Sam,” Travis said, turning to Jessie. “I’ll go first, okay?”
She nodded as he reached up and opened the cage. Once across, he sent it back and waited until she reached his side. As they struggled up the bank toward the highway, Travis saw the cop glaring back. Something about the officer put Travis on edge. The uniformed officer leaned against his car, muscular arms crossed and flexing. His nose — broken at least once — and coal-black eyes gave Travis the impression this guy possessed zero patience.
Baptiste squinted at Travis as if eyeing a suspect, before turning toward Jessie. “Your dad’s been looking for you, Jess. Called Three Rivers. They said you left for the day.”
“Have they found …”
Baptiste hunched his shoulders. “Your father wants you back at his office. Something came up.”
“About Tommy?”
“He’ll tell you himself.”
“Joseph, if it’s about Tommy, I want to know right now.”
Baptiste thrust a finger at her. “Don’t start telling me what —”
Travis stepped forward. “Officer, don’t —”
Jessie placed a hand on his arm and turned toward the cop. “Please. I don’t want to wait until we get back to Lapwai. Did they find Tommy?”
Baptiste seemed to relish her agony. “Orders are orders. Mine is to find you and hook you up with the chief.” His eyes glinted.
Jessie turned toward Travis. “Would you come with me? I …” She let the sentence trail off, her eyes filling in the blanks.
Travis glanced at Baptiste. The man’s broad face loomed impassive, unyielding. “Okay. I’ll follow in my truck.”
She softly touched his arm. “May I ride with you, Travis? I’ll leave my car here. I’m coming back to Three Rivers.”
Baptiste scowled.
Travis nodded, smiling grimly at the officer as he opened his truck. Jessie climbed inside and slid to the passenger’s side. She leaned forward, hands clenched on her lap. He grabbed the steering wheel and pulled himself inside, closing the door.
“You okay?” he said, starting up the truck. Travis saw her eying Baptiste as the cop strode toward the patrol car. “I’m fine. Just get me there quick. Please.”
He heard the other vehicle start up, tires churning up rocks as the patrol car fishtailed onto the highway. Travis slipped off the brake and followed. Ahead, he saw a rust-crusted van parked off the road about a quarter mile away. Travis glanced into the van as they passed. No one in the driver’s seat. He’d seen this vehicle earlier further upstream after leaving Three Rivers. He assumed it belonged to a fisherman working the river.
Late afternoon brilliance pained his eyes. He jerked down the visor to shield his eyes, and saw Jessie scrutinizing the patrol car ahead. Her expression seemed fixated on the car ahead as if she saw something that frightened her.
Looking at the silhouetted driver through the rear window, Travis wondered if Jessie feared what her father might have to say or the man driving the car ahead. Baptiste’s anger and Jessie’s anxiousness told Travis those two shared history. But she appeared unwilling to divulge anything, keeping it inside, her fists still clenched.
He understood fear, a beast everyone struggled with at some point in their lives. For him, fear died inside a long time ago. Instead, he struggled with another beast, another monster, whose powers haunted his nights and dreams, never letting go.
Guilt was this monster’s name.
“Boss. Mobile One, here. They’re headed your way.”
Creasy’s voice crackled over the radio. “You still in the van?”
“Yeah. But I think the guy spotted me twice now. I may have burned this ride.”
“Then pull out and switch with Mobile Two.”
“Okay. Anyway, nothing came up on the wire when they were in the cabin. Just chit chat. They will clear your location in about twenty. My guess, they’re headed toward her old man’s place.”
“The cop shop?”
“Yeah. And they’re following one of the local guys, a tribal flatfoot. Like some kind of escort.”
“Gotcha. Clear out and let Two take over.”
“Okay, boss. The wires still hot in the other places?”
“Yup. And the cop shop’s equipped with rabbit ears. We’re catching everything.”
“Over and out.” The van driver crawled from the back and wedged himself into the driver’s seat. Another day, another dollar. But this sure beat a nine-to-fiver and Creasy paid a lot more dinero. He watched the cop car and truck disappear in his rearview.
“Did you get all that?”
Another man climbed to the passenger seat from the back of the van. “Yeah, I heard. Creasy’s on a roll.”
As the driver made a u-turn, he thought of his boss. The guy wanted the team to call him by that handle, Creasy, even though everyone knew his real name.
Strange hombre.
The passenger hunched forward. “I just wish I knew what this job is really about. It makes me a little hinky.”
As the driver slowed down — letting the vehicles ahead pull further away — he glanced at his partner. “That makes two of us. Remember that job in Frisco? The hacker that tried to get money from Creasy’s client?” The driver glanced over and thought he saw the passenger shiver.
“One sick puppy. You see what he did to that hacker? Nothing left when he got through.”
“Yeah, and he torched the guy’s apartment and the whole building went up in smoke. Innocent people could have got wasted.”
“Exactly. If the money wasn’t so good, I’d have jumped ship a long time ago.”
“Yeah. This kind of job keeps me in the game. After all, none of us are saints. And women …” He rolled his eyes. “They like guys like us who dare to walk on the wild side. They get tired of those boring 8-to-5ers. Know what I mean?
The driver nodded. “We like to walk on the dark side sometimes. But this guy …”
The passenger thrust a pudgy finger at him. “That’s my point. This guy — Creasy — lives and breathes the dark side. He takes everything to the extreme.”
As a reflex, the driver checked the radio to make sure he’d turned it off. The last thing he wanted was to have an open mike and have Creasy listening to this conversation. The money was good and he’d let Creasy do whatever the creep wanted as long as no one got hurt on the team. But his partner was right. Creasy did like to take things to the extreme.
And death was always one of Creasy’s favorite options.
The driver looked down the road and saw the truck and cop car disappear. Mobile Two would be tailing them soon. And Creasy would not be far behind.
Chapter 7
Lapwai, Idaho
Travis heard Baptiste’s goose-stepping boots behind them as Jessie led them through the police station. Footsteps slowed. Turning, he saw the cop veer off across the room and squeeze behind a desk.
“There’s my dad,” Jessie said, pointing to the man in a private office at the far end of the building. “He’s expecting us.”
As they approached, he studied the man behind the desk. The police chief’s salt and pepper hair hinted at age, but his face seemed weathered by life without too much erosion. He glanced up as they entered. Travis saw a few wrinkles spreading across the man’s features like small cracks in concrete after a hard winter.
“Travis, I’d like you to meet my dad, Frank White Eagle.”
Frank’s eyes, tired and drawn, sparked with interest. “So you’re the professor.” He rose and extended a hand, his grasp firm, his eyes missing nothing. “Thanks for bringing my daughter h
ere. Now if you’ll excuse us for a minute, I need to speak to Jessie alone.” He gestured toward the door.
Jessie cut in. “Wait a minute, Dad. I want him to stay and … how did you know he was a professor?”
An amused look crossed Frank’s face. “You forget I’m a cop.”
“You spying on me?” Jessie looked upset.
Frank glanced at her, eyes narrowing. “I’m jumpy since Tommy turned up missing, Jessie. I wanna be sure my daughter’s protected. You can’t fault me for that, can you?”
“I can take care of myself, Dad. I’ve been doing that for a long time.” She shot him a look that matched his glare.
The police chief shrugged. “Okay, Travis stays. Shut the door and grab a chair.” They sat down after she slammed the door closed.
Travis winced.
Frank sank into a wooden swivel chair and leaned forward, resting both elbows on a gray Formica-topped desk. Travis saw a Bible sitting on the shelf behind Frank. He watched the man steeple his hands as if praying. “No word on Tommy yet, Jess. Everybody’s out looking. I’ve called in all the favors I’ve earned over the years and then some. We’re looking everywhere.”
Jessie nodded, staring at her father.
Frank unclasped his hands, gesturing. “Honey, we’re doing everything we can. I’ve been up for two days straight. We’re running out of places to look.” He shot a look at Travis, then returned his attention to Jessie. “But that’s not why I asked you here.”
Jessie straightened as if preparing for a blow. “Yeah, Baptiste wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“In all fairness, I didn’t tell anyone why I wanted to see you.”
“You’re scaring me, dad. What is it?”
“Remember Tommy’s friend, Pete?”
“Pete Axtell?”
“Yeah. He’s turned up missing.” Frank studied her face before continuing. “Failed to show up for work yesterday. No one’s heard from him since.”
Jessie gripped the desk. “You think this has something to do with Tommy?”
Frank lowered his head before answering. “I don’t believe in coincidences. There might be a connection.” He shifted his attention toward Travis. “You were a cop once, right?”
Jessie glanced quickly at Travis and then back to her father. “No, Dad. He teaches at WSU — criminology, right?” She looked back at Travis.
He waited a moment before answering. “You’re both right. I teach criminology at WSU and — yes, Frank — I once was a cop.”
Jessie looked puzzled. “You never told me —”
“— we never got around to sharing our past, Jessie.” He turned to Frank. “How’d you find out?”
Frank shrugged. “I told you. Ran a check and found you were in law enforcement in California for a number of years. Five years ago, you came up here and started teaching.”
Jessie looked from one to the other.
Travis fidgeted in his chair.
Frank hunched his shoulders. “Got me curious why you’d drop out of law enforcement and come all the way up here to teach. So I made a few calls.”
“Okay, I used to be a cop. No big deal.”
“Actually, my contacts said it was a big deal. Worked on several joint task forces targeting organized crime. Worked undercover for seven years. Cited for bravery several times, including saving a child’s —”
“Okay. Okay. So I have history. Let’s leave it at that.”
“So, professor, I’m interested in what you might bring to the table. My son is missing and I’m running out of options. What would you do if you were in my shoes?”
Travis stiffened. He glanced at Jessie, a puzzled look still on her face. He felt the walls of this office were closing in. He wanted to get up and walk away. Instead, he gazed at Jessie for a moment as he leaned back and tried to relax. “I don’t know what good it will do, Chief, but tell me what you have so far.”
A sigh escaped Frank as he placed both palms flat down on the desk. “Two days ago, Tommy left his office in Orofino about 4 p.m., according to a witness who saw him getting into his car. Another witness, a woman working in the same complex, saw him drive off. Those are the last two people who saw Tommy.”
Frank shifted in his chair before continuing. “Yesterday, we located his vehicle abandoned along the Clearwater River. Twenty-four hours later. A deputy from Idaho County found the car in a grove of trees and called it in. They found it parked off the highway, in a pullout that dipped down near the river. The vehicle was locked up tight and the keys missing. No sign of a struggle.”
Frank paused as if to invite questions. Met by silence, he continued. “Sent a BOLO statewide for my son, as well as Washington, Oregon and Montana. So far, we’ve got no responses.”
Travis shifted in the chair. “What about credit card activity, acquaintances, neighbors? Anything?”
“Nope. Credit reports show no activity, and we can’t find anyone — other than two witnesses near his office — who saw or talked to him since that afternoon. He just vanished.”
“Who you working with?”
“Right now, no one except a cop from Orofino PD and the Idaho County Sheriff’s Office. Talked to a friend with the FBI, but they won’t really get involved unless we get something specific — crossing state lines, abductions, whatever might trigger federal involvement.”
“And locals, state?”
“Again, we need to substantiate something beyond a missing adult report. Anything that might suggest foul play. As a courtesy, Orofino PD took the missing person report.”
Travis shrugged his shoulders. “Sounds like you got it covered. Unless something else surfaces, I’m not sure what else to suggest.”
“Come on. Give me something to work with.” Frank’s eyes hardened.
Travis tensed. “Look, Frank. I’ll be honest with you. If I were working this case, I’d need to put my personal feelings aside and look at this objectively. Can you do that?”
Frank met his gaze. “You’re asking the impossible, but pretend I could be as cold as ice. What would you do?”
Travis took a deep breath. “I’d start by thinking the worst. I take it this disappearance is out of the ordinary for your son. Right?”
Frank nodded.
“I’d approach it as if something did happen. The very worst you could imagine — that’s where I’d start.”
“You mean …” Frank faltered.
“I’m sorry, but you asked what I’d do. Start looking at his life for any evidence of anyone who might want to harm him. Someone who might benefit if he disappeared. Start looking at all his friends and acquaintances as suspects, not just possible leads to his whereabouts. Continue trying to track his movements, his credit card use, his leisure hours, his business appointments. Look at everything. Believe no one.”
Frank looked back impassively.
Travis continued. “The fact Tommy’s friend is now missing should raise all kinds of flags, chief. I’d start turning over every leaf, every rock, till something pops up. Time is critical. Look for ties between these two men — beyond friendship.”
Frank’s face seemed to age in minutes, pain evident in his gaze. “I want you to help us, Travis. Help me find my son,” he said, his voice raspy and hoarse.
Travis straightened his back. This was not going to happen. He could not risk it. He gave them his two-cents worth. That’s all he could give. “I can’t, Frank. Look, you got access to a number of law enforcement agencies, all of whom I know want to help. They’re better equipped. Better trained. I’ve been out of this game for years.”
“How can you walk away like this?” Frank said, forcing the words out between rigid lips, the man’s pain turning into anger. “I’m asking for your help. Cop to cop.”
Travis could not meet Frank’s glare. “I just … can’t, Frank. I’m not a cop.”
“What are you afraid of?” The chief pressed on, scowling. “Is that why you’re no longer a cop? Lost your nerve?”
Jessie
edged forward. “Dad, please. Travis did me a favor coming here.” She turned to Travis. He saw she was trying to balance everything. Her dad. Travis’ past. Tommy’s disappearance. She seemed adrift, floating in uncertainty.
Frank shoved himself back from the desk. “My son’s missing and another boy has disappeared.” He stood, jabbing a finger toward Travis. “Like you said, time is running out. I need help right now!”
Travis tried again. “I know you’re tired and worried about your son, but —”
“Don’t tell me how I feel.” Frank leaned on his desk with balled fists, his voice thundering through the office.
Travis tried again. “I wouldn’t presume to know how you feel, sir. The truth is … I’m not a cop anymore. I’ve got nothing to offer.”
Frank’s face hardened, his squinting eyes filled with rage and hopelessness. It was the same look Travis saw in Jessie’s eyes by the river.
Travis rose and pushed back his chair. “I hope you find your son.” Not knowing what else to say, Travis turned toward Jessie. “I’ll be waiting outside when you’re ready.”
He left the door ajar. Someone slammed it shut. He glanced back to see father and daughter gesturing at each other. Even with the door closed, their raised voices rang through the building. Everyone in earshot hushed as they listened to the family squabble.
Baptiste sat smiling to himself.
Travis finally reached the lobby still hearing Jessie and Frank arguing. Once outside, a soothing breeze washed over him as he walked toward the truck. He could not calm down. Shadows danced across the valley floor as mountainous skylines stood colored in deep purples against a darkening sky. He climbed inside and found himself clutching the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He loosened his grip and tried to relax. Frank struck a nerve, a cord that Travis thought died years ago. It surprised him that he still cared, that he was still tied to what he’d left behind.
Life as a cop.
He saw the station’s main door fling open. Jessie came flying into the parking lot, heading for the truck almost at a run. Frank emerged in the doorway, watching her leave. Jessie yanked the passenger door open, hurled herself onto the seat, and slammed the door shut. The sound reverberated off glass.
