Revenge (A Travis Mays Novel)

by Mark Young

  The lift across the river activated. Field techs started arriving, filing into the cabin one by one to set up. Travis moved to the far end of the porch. “Go ahead, Beck.”

  “Okay. Here’s what I dug up on Phillip Scarsbourgh. Until his sister’s death, he was serving in the Marine Corps, mostly overseas. Assigned to their Force Recon units and served in all the hot spots — Afghanistan, Iraq, Africa, you name it. Travis, guess what his specialty is?”

  “Sniper?”

  “Bingo. And from all reports, he’s good.”

  “What happened? Where’s he now?”

  Static crackled on the line. “What was that, Travis?” Beck’s voice sounded broken, and then the line cleared.

  Travis repeated his question.

  “Phillip separated from the Marines right after his sister’s murder. They cut him loose on a medical discharge. Actually, due to psychological problems.”

  “And they lost track of him?”

  “Simply dropped out of sight. Never put in for benefits, pay, nothing. Just vanished. I’ve checked all our databases — driver’s licenses, criminal records, voting records, you name it. He just ceased to exist on paper.”

  “He trained for any other duties in the Corps?”

  “How to survive behind enemy lines. He knew all the tools of the trade — all he needed to seek and destroy targets. Until the end, he had an excellent record. Earned a number of medals for valor and courage in the field. Quite a good Marine. They tell me something snapped.”

  Travis nodded. “My guess, Michelle is what happened. She was all the family he had.”

  Malloy’s voice broke in. “Now, his enemy — target — changed. You’re it, Travis. For whatever reason, I’m guessing he holds you responsible for her death.”

  Travis glanced at Jessie. “Well, I am responsible for —”

  “No you aren’t, Travis” Jessie cut in. “Chuck Coville — that CCE guy and whoever he sent to kill her — they’re responsible for her death.”

  “I was the one who sent her back in, Jessie. I can see her brother’s point.”

  Malloy cut in. “I’ll keep checking to see if we can pick up a trail on this guy. Check back with you.” The line went dead.

  A field tech emerged in the doorway. “Detective Steele, you’d better take a look at this.” The young man held a flat cylindrical object half the size of a small button with a wire dangling from it. “We severed the connection when we spotted it,” he said, holding it up for Travis to see. “We’ve used these ourselves on occasion.”

  Travis recognized the object, a pin-hole camera with audio capabilities. “He bugged my cabin. He heard everything we’ve said.” He saw concern in Frank’s eyes.

  The technician slipped the bug into an evidence bag. “We’ll do a complete sweep before we leave.”

  Steele nodded as the young man reentered the cabin. He turned toward Travis. “This twisted wacko’s been listening to you the whole time.”

  Travis shook his head, thinking back over the last few weeks. The only time he spoke inside was with Jessie. And just now, when he’d found where Tommy had been killed.

  Phillip Scarsbourgh targeted him from the start. Even before Tommy died. Somehow, Tommy’s murder became part of a twisted scheme to get at Travis.

  He glanced at Jessie. The killer must know Travis’ feeling toward her. He was not going to let another person be killed on his watch.

  Never again.

  The driver fired up the van — parked a quarter-mile from Travis’ cabin — and made a u-turn on the highway, heading west on Highway 12. The driver hit the speed dial on his phone, listening for the connection. A man’s voice came on the line.

  The driver glanced in his rearview mirror as he spoke. “They found the bug and the body,” he said, passing on the information Travis learned of Michelle’s brother and that the cops found Foster’s body.

  “Bring me the tapes and pull back. I’ll take it from here.”

  The driver acknowledged the order. It was just as well. He didn’t want any part of whatever his boss planned next. Surveillance, wiretaps, and that kind of activity he loved to do.

  Killing was not his bag.

  Chapter 48

  Lochsa River, Idaho

  Frank stood on Jessie’s porch, listening to the Lochsa rushing below in the darkness. Learning where Tommy was killed hit Frank hard — the hurt and pain striking deep into his heart once more. His eyes followed the sharp upward slope of the mountain in the moonlight as it rose to greet a darkened sky. Behind him, he knew the historic Lolo Trail cut a mountainous swath, a forested highway his people used for centuries. He closed his eyes, remembering his own travels over that trail in his youth, sensing the history of his people traversing those ancient lands.

  He heard Jessie and Travis quietly conversing inside. A younger generation with modern ways of living on this land. So much has been forgotten, lost, as civilization cast aside the history of his people to allow progress to move forward.

  Once he’d studied maps of the lands that belonged to his people. The immensity of this area — covering three states — staggered his imagination. Boundaries shrank over the years after the treaties of 1855 and 1863 when they ripped the land from his people’s grasp. Before the white man marched into their world, the Nez Perce nation stretched from Oregon’s Wallowa Valley north to the Palouse River traversing Washington and Idaho, and all the lands east to what is now Montana. His people moved like wind-driven clouds in those times, crisscrossing the mountains in search of food, trade and shelter.

  As he listened to Jessie talking to Travis, he thought of his peoples’ own language, a language teetering on the brink of extinction. Less than a hundred people fluently speak the language today in a culture once believed to number in the thousands.

  Tommy’s fear of extinction for the Nez Perce — tribal language, culture and lands — drove him to fight to protect what was left. Frank understood this passion. But his son never understood that Frank’s belief in God — his refusal to accept traditionalist beliefs of the tribe — did not mean the father cast aside his culture, his heritage. It was this misunderstanding that seemed to drive them farther and farther apart.

  And now, the killer snatched away Frank’s opportunity to heal wounds between father and son. He would not let this killer take Jessie away. He coveted every moment with his daughter and he wanted to make sure she understood how much he loved her. And the people he’d sworn to protect.

  Lord willing, he and Travis would stop this killer from striking again.

  Travis watched Frank sitting on the porch through the open doorway. Jessie sat next to him on the sofa. They’d driven to her cabin until field technicians finished processing both crime scenes. Steele promised Travis access back into his cabin once they’d collected evidence. “Best stay away until tomorrow.”

  Gently, Travis took her hand in his. “A deputy will be coming by to stand guard while Frank and I continue with the case.”

  She gripped his hand. “I don’t want to stay here just because my dad thinks it’s safer.”

  “He just wants to make sure you’re okay. And hanging around with me right now might be fatal to your health.”

  “I don’t feel safe anywhere. I’d rather stick with you guys.”

  Sam wandered from the woods, bounding through the front door until he saw Travis inside. The dog took one look to make sure his master was in sight, then wheeled around and disappeared into the woods. At least the dog seemed to be enjoying himself.

  Jessie straightened. “Oh, there’s something I forgot to tell you. Kind of forgot about it in all this excitement.”

  “Oh? You solved the case?”

  “No. But Lisa and I tried to help,” she said. “We went to Tommy’s office to see if you guys missed anything.”

  “That wasn’t smart, Jessie.”

  She ignored his statement. “I saw one of his neighbors entering an office when we got there, so I chatted with her. Nobody had ta
lked to her yet, Mr. Investigator.”

  “Okay, So what’d she say?”

  “That Jean Robinette, Steve’s wife, visited Tommy in his office several times, and at least once she came there late at night. The next-door neighbor thought they might be having an affair.”

  “And you?”

  Jessie shook her head. “Not Tommy’s style, sneaking around with his friend’s wife. Even if she is a real looker.”

  Travis raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I ought to go talk to her.”

  She dug her elbow into his ribs. “Forget it. Beside, Lisa and I already did that.”

  Her laughter caught Frank’s attention. He walked into the cabin. “What’s so funny?”

  Jessie glanced at Travis. “I was just telling Travis I learned Steve Robinette’s wife visited Tommy on several occasions. The woman in the office next to Tommy’s thought they were … you know.”

  Frank smiled. “I know Tommy better than that.”

  Travis though he’d keep his opinion to himself. “Jessie says she went and interviewed Jean Robinette.”

  Frank’s smile vanished. “I told you not to go anywhere near this case.”

  Jessie shrugged. “I knew — woman to woman — she’d be more likely to talk to me than a couple of guys. Particularly since I’m Tommy’s sister.”

  “So she opened up?” Frank took over the questioning.

  “No. She denied anything between ’em. Wouldn’t even admit to meeting with him. When I mentioned court and testimony, she freaked out. Said I should leave it alone. That she was not responsible for Tommy’s death and that I did not know what I was getting into.”

  Travis faced her. “Did she tell you what she meant?”

  “No. Just clammed up. Even after I threatened to tell the police what I knew. Nada. Something frightened her.”

  Travis glanced at Frank. “Think Steve Robinette is at the casino?”

  Frank nodded. “Now might be a good time to have a chat with the wife.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Jessie said, standing.

  Travis smiled at Frank. “Kind of bullheaded, isn’t she?”

  “Boy, you don’t know the half of it.”

  Travis whistled as the Robinette residence came into sight. “This must be how the other half lives.” Frank trailed behind Travis in his unmarked. Jessie sat on the passenger side in the truck.

  She glanced at the house. “I can only imagine what a place like this must cost to buy and keep up. Steve must make a lot more than I thought.”

  Travis slid from his seat and closed the door. He came around and opened her door. They waited for Frank before approaching.

  Jean Robinette opened the door just as they reached the front steps. “Oh no. Something happen?”

  Frank stepped forward. “We have a few questions, Mrs. Robinette. If you have a moment.”

  Jean looked at Jessie as if betrayed. “I’ve nothing to say, Chief. Nothing.”

  “My son — Jessie’s brother — was murdered, Jean. If there is anything you can tell us —”

  “— I told you I can’t help. There was nothing between Tommy and me.”

  Frank took a step closer. “Okay. Then just let us come inside for a few and tell us what you do know.”

  Travis saw Jean waver, her shoulders finally sagging. She opened the door wider, silently signaling them to enter. Jessie and Travis followed Frank inside. Jean led them to the living room overlooking the valley below, moonlight casting a silvery pale across the mountains. The woman lowered herself into one of the chairs. Frank and Jessie took a seat across from her.

  Travis chose to stand off to one side while the others talked. He leaned on a bookshelf built into the wall around the fireplace. The shelves were filled with photographs, a few books and several rows of medals.

  As Frank spoke to Jean, Travis curiously eyed the shelves. Almost all of the photos were of Steve Robinette standing with celebrities. He recognized a few statesmen, sports figures, and a couple of Hollywood types. Only a few photos included Jean. On a higher shelf, he saw rows of trophies. His eye caught the word Biathlon. He peered closely and saw Jean’s name on several of the trophies, including a silver Olympic medal.

  He waited for a lull in the conversation. “Mrs. Robinette. You were in the Olympics?”

  Jean seemed distracted for a moment. She looked at Travis blankly, then seemed to gather herself. “Yes. A long time ago … before I met Steve. In fact, we met at the Olympics where I won that medal. He still calls me his trophy wife.” She did not seem pleased with Steve’s tag.

  Travis pointed to it. “Quite impressive. Skiing and rifle shooting. Takes a lot of discipline.”

  “Thank you. Shooting’s something Steve and I once shared together. We liked to go over to Montana for a little getaway now and then. We haven’t done that in years.” For a moment her mind seemed to have taken her to another time, then Jean turned toward Frank and Jessie, giving them her attention.

  Frank leaned forward. “Jessie tells us there’s a witness that saw you and Tommy meeting several times at his office.”

  Jean shook her head, saying nothing.

  “You say you and Tommy weren’t … seeing each other. And I believe that. But you were meeting him for some purpose. Now’s the time to get it out.”

  Travis saw the woman’s eyes glisten, her shoulders began to shake. “I can’t … Steve will …”

  “You’re afraid of Steve?” Frank asked, gently.

  She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. They began to course down her cheeks. “You don’t know him.”

  “Tell us what you talked about with Tommy.”

  She wrung her hands, as if the gesture might draw courage she needed. “I wanted Tommy to help me get a divorce. Tommy tried to talk me into getting help, of saving my marriage.”

  “You think this has anything to do with what happened to Tommy?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I just don’t know. Steve has a temper, but … to kill him?” She shook her head. “Tommy was his friend.”

  Frank leaned back, glancing up at Travis. “Did Steve know you were seeking a divorce?”

  She shook her head. “No. I was scared to death he’d find out. Tommy said he’d talk to Steve. Try to get us into counseling.”

  “So, he did talk to Steve?”

  “Yeah. I think so. I never spoke to Tommy after he spoke with Steve. We talked just before he …” Jean buried her head in her hands, sobbing. “Oh, God. I hope it didn’t get him killed.”

  Frank and Jessie stood to leave. He watched as Jean rose, trembling, leading them toward the door.

  Travis followed. Might her relationship with Tommy have been just that — trying to end or save a marriage? As he looked around the house, he thought there must be a lot of community property. A lot of stuff Steve Robinette might hate losing. Including his trophy wife.

  Travis knew one other thing — Steve Robinette may have been the last person to see Tommy alive. Was there a link between the casino manager and the killer? The more they dug for answers, the more questions sprang up.

  Chapter 49

  Lapwai, Idaho

  They reached the Nez Perce Police Station shortly before nine in the morning. Francis came rushing up just as Frank ushered Travis and Jessie into his office. “I was in the ladies room when you came in, Chief. They just told me you got back.”

  “Can I help you, Francis?”

  She waved a pink message slip. “You got a call from a police officer in San Diego. I think it’s about Pete Axtell.” She handed him the note, hovering as Frank read it.

  “Thank you, Francis. Anything else?”

  “Uh, no Chief. Guess I’ll get back to the counter.” She shuffled off, and Jessie followed her out the door.

  Frank dialed the number and asked for Sgt. O’Rourke.

  Travis remembered meeting O’Rourke outside the fire-gutted apartment in San Diego. He watched as the police chief identified himself to the San Diego PD sergeant. Suddenly,
he saw Frank’s eyes widen.

  “You sure?” The police chief hung up a moment later and made a sound like air escaping from a tire. “Pete Axtell is still alive.”

  Travis straightened. “You’re kidding. Then whose body got torched?”

  “Pete’s cousin. And the coroner said someone did shoot the victim before setting the place on fire.”

  “So where is Axtell hiding?”

  Jessie walked back into the office. “What’d I miss?”

  Travis shook his head. “Someone just returned from the dead.” He gave her the news.

  Frank stood. “Now, we need to find him. And fast.”

  “Let me borrow a copy of Axtell’s thumb drive?” Travis asked. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow a desk and a computer and take a closer look at what Axtell kept on that drive. Maybe I can come up with some reason why he ran off. And, more importantly, who might be looking for him since Foster is out of the picture. I’ll give you a call if I find anything.”

  Frank exchanged looks with Jessie. “Let’s grab breakfast. We’ll give the professor a little space, let him use my office.”

  Jessie glanced at Travis. “Okay. But we won’t be far.”

  Travis smiled. “I’ll give you a call if I come up with anything.”

  As soon as the others left, Travis downloaded Axtell’s files on the computer and made a back-up disk. Once he knew everything was saved, he started to examine each file, reviewing all the customer information stored on the disk. He estimated there were several thousand names listed, each entry listing that person’s name, address, contact numbers, and amounts won or lost at the casino, including all expenditures.

  After an hour, his back began stiffening from working at the computer so long. He got up and stretched, wandering over to the coffeemaker. Armed with a large steaming cup of java, he strolled back and sat down once again.

  He started running all victim and witness names he and Frank had uncovered in the investigation and comparing them to names listed in the computer files. The first name he recognized was Brian Wyatt. He searched Wyatt’s records, but found nothing that caught his attention. Small amounts, average losses, nothing significant. The man was clearly playing for fun.