by Mark Young
Steele peered over Travis’ shoulder. “I think he’ll be all right if they can keep the swelling down. He’ll have one heck of a headache when he wakes up.”
Travis glanced up. “How’d you get to the cabin?”
A smile crossed Steele’s face. “I followed Frank. He took a horse across the river. I figured out where he was probably headed — your place — and jammed back to Three Rivers to borrow a raft. I crossed over upstream from here and worked my way as close as I could get in the dark. Sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”
Sam’s wet nose searched Travis face. Travis reached over and patted the dog. “I thought Scarsbourgh operated alone. At least until I saw him leave the front door open and the screen door propped. Couldn’t figure that out until the second shooter clipped Frank. I should have known.”
Steele nodded, glancing through the doorway. “Yeah. I heard the first shot when Frank popped Scarsbourgh. Tried to get here as fast as possible. Then I heard the second shot. Once I realized what happened, I flashed my light up the hill trying to draw the shooter off. I think the light scared him away. I’ll get my deputies to start combing that mountainside, but I figure the shooter’s long gone.”
Travis nodded, looking down at Frank, still lying motionless. “First, let’s get Frank to the hospital. Then I want to start looking for the shooter. Until we find that person, this is not over.”
He glanced at Jessie, her face tight with concern as she stroked her father’s cheek. She looked up. “Find him, Travis. Find him and end this before anyone else gets hurt.”
He knelt and put his arm around her. “I’ll try, Jessie. I’ll try.”
He heard sirens cut out as each patrol vehicle arrived. Their emergency lights continued to light up the night. Twenty minutes later, he heard the blades of a chopper cutting through the night.
First things first. He had to make sure Frank was taken care of and his own wounds patched up. Then, he’d start tracking this second shooter after they safely stashed Jessie away.
As he waited for the medical crew, he thought about the case and where he’d gone wrong. He must start over and look at everything with fresh eyes.
Everyone.
Already an idea started to form, a suspicion burrowed deep in his brain like a splinter festering under the skin. Something he’d seen and failed to understand. Maybe if he’d been smart enough to pick up on it at the time, all this could have been averted.
Maybe. Could have. Would have. He was tired of second-guessing himself. For the past. For the present. Right now he would only focus on the here and now.
As he thought about it, another thought began to take shape like sculptor struggling to see how a hunk of marble might be chipped away until a clear image emerged. He remembered a small detail that escaped his attention at the time. And now, like a movie camera bringing everything into focus, he began to see clearly.
He’d been looking at this all wrong. Travis thought he knew where to start hunting. Not all the pieces fit, but a big part of the puzzle just fell in place. There were connections in the records seized from the casino that he’d glossed over, connections that fell in the ‘so what’ category. Until now.
He needed to go back over the records.
Chapter 67
Grangeville, Idaho
Steele rushed Travis to St. Joseph’s Regional Medical Center in Lewiston. At first Travis resisted until he learned the medevac team airlifted Frank to a trauma unit in Spokane with Jessie onboard. Once he knew they had protection, he acquiesced taking a ride to Lewiston.
Steele insisted. “I’ve got protection for them once they touch down. Now, let’s get you to the hospital.”
Doctors and nurses repaired Travis’ knife wound. Hours later, they wheeled Travis from the emergency room with orders to give his stitches a break and take it easy. Bed rest and light duty.
Travis pushed himself up from the wheelchair and eased into Steele’s car. “Get me to your office, detective. We’ve got a case to finish.”
This time, Steele agreed.
Steele set up a temporary work station at the sheriff’s office to give Travis a place to operate. Once set up, Travis started to read the interview notes again. He called the hospital in Spokane and left a message for Jessie where he could be reached.
His mind struggled to grasp everything that had happened in the last few days. Part of it made sense. Other parts seemed complete garbage. The whole case depended upon finding the right key, the right piece of information linking Scarsbourgh to those with a common interest, a common goal.
One of those common interests seemed to be Travis.
It didn’t take a lot of gray matter to figure out why Scarsbourgh wanted Travis dead. In the killer’s twisted mind, he held Travis responsible for Michelle’s death.
But why might others come after him?
Maybe they needed what Scarsbourgh offered. So they worked in concert with him so everyone got what they wanted. The problem he wrestled over was a motive for the co-conspirators. Money? Power? Revenge? What?
And who were they?
Travis felt like he was getting nowhere. One name kept surfacing. One person who’d been in the background. But he needed to be sure. And he needed to understand the motive before exposing his hand.
He jumped as a phone rang on the desk. For a moment, Travis let it ring, trying to get back to his thoughts. The phone kept ringing. He snatched it up.
“Travis Mays.”
“Travis … it’s Jessie. Steele gave me this phone number.” She sounded tired and worried. “They say Dad is stable, but listed him as critical. They’re doing everything they can.”
“Is he …”
“Dad’s unconscious.” Jessie’s voice cracked. He listened as she struggled to speak. “They say that’s a good thing. He needs to be real still.”
“That’s good, I guess.”
“How are you doing?”
“A little sore, but otherwise, I’m fine. Just sitting here trying to make sense of all this.”
“Any luck?”
He hesitated. “I’ve got a couple things to follow up. If they are successful, I’ll give you a call.”
There was a moment of silence before she spoke. “I miss you. Just be careful,” she said, before cutting him off.
“I miss you too, Jessie,” he said to a dead line.
Just as he replaced the receiver, the phone rang a second time. “Jessie?”
“Tom Kagan here, Travis.”
“How’d you get this number?”
Kagan laughed. “I’m a detective, remember? Steele called and updated me about Frank and everything that happened at your cabin. He told me you’d be sharing an office. You near a computer?”
Travis glanced at the monitor in front of him. “Yeah.”
“I’ve shipped out a copy of a video taken from the city’s surveillance camera in personnel. I downloaded the video for the days you asked and shipped it to your e-mail account. Call me back when you’ve had a chance to see it.”
Travis hung up and went online to access his account. As the program opened up, he saw Kagan’s message sitting in his inbox along with a number of unopened messages. He clicked on the attachment link and saw a video clip load. Embedded controls allowed him to zoom in where desired. He let it run in fast forward until one scene caught his attention. The camera lens captured everyone approaching the front counter. A second angle gave a shot of the front door. Hours of tape went by in minutes. The view ran a split-screen, with both cameras’ vantage point running in sync.
He tapped his finger on the mouse as he watched the video unfold. In one segment of tape, he saw a man enter. Something about him looked familiar. Travis stopped the clip and reversed it. He hit the button and let the video run in real time.
The film caught a quick glimpse of his face. Travis froze the picture and zoomed in on the face.
Kent McPeters.
He hit the print key. A black-and-white copy of the photo rolled out
of the printer next to him.
Travis straightened in his chair. McPeters traveled more than a thousand miles to access Santa Rosa city personnel files. There could only be one reason. He let the tape continue playing until a woman returned with a file in her hand. He saw McPeters sign and open the file. He stopped the frame and zoomed in on a photo pasted in the upper left hand corner. He zeroed in on that image. It was a headshot of Travis. Here was proof McPeters traveled there to go through Travis’s personnel file.
He grabbed the phone and punched Kagan’s number. Kagan answered immediately. “You saw it?”
“Yeah. Kent McPeters. Department chairman here at WSU. My boss. Can you find out what story he gave them to see my file?”
“Already checked into it. Here’s the scoop. Personnel said this guy identified himself as heading up a federal DOJ grant research project requiring top-level security clearance. He was assigned to do a background check on you for the school. He’d contacted the city before arriving and mailed a letter — allegedly, signed by you — authorizing him to take a look at your personnel file.”
Kagan coughed. “One more thing. After McPeters saw the file, someone else may have accessed it. All the pages were left unstapled as if someone ran off a copy. No one signed it out, so we may have someone here in the city with access to these files who may be in cahoots with one of your suspects.”
Travis struggled to think this through. “Somebody accessed it after McPeters.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So that’s how McPeters found out about Michelle.”
“Exactly. He learned about the personnel investigation when DOJ complained about you not playing ball with them. Your statement about what happened, and how you felt responsible for her death. All that became part of the record.”
“This was before Scarsbourgh knew of my involvement. Up to that point, only Clay Lafata, Timothy Heard, and Steve Kirkpatrick knew any details. So how did Scarsbourgh wind up with the information?”
“It’s clear to me McPeters told him or that other person here who has access to our files.”
Travis tried to make these facts fit. “I don’t know, Tom. McPeters isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. How’d he learn about Scarsbourgh’s identity? It took us a lot of digging, and Malloy used a federal database to put it together.”
“Maybe McPeters is smarter than you think.”
“I know the man. Trust me, he’s not that bright.” Travis smiled to himself.
“Okay. Who told him? It certainly wasn’t Scarsbourgh.”
“Maybe he just wanted to know more about me.”
“McPeters? Maybe.” Kagan sounded doubtful. “Anyway, you’ve got at least one more suspect to work on. Happy hunting. And let me know about Frank if anything changes.”
“You got it. And thanks, Tom.” Travis hung up.
He rifled through several boxes of records seized from Whitewater Casino. Inside, he found a file on all customer transaction breakdowns by date and time just before Tommy’s disappearance. He pulled these out and located McPeters’ name, a regular loser at the casino for months before Tommy’s disappearance. And then, McPeters’ transactions dropped off completely. He jotted down the time periods. These transactions showed a pattern to McPeters’ financial demise; a bar tab, then dinner with more booze, and then gambling chips.
Thousands of dollars on credit.
From a contact sheet he and Frank created, Travis scanned down until he came to the name he sought. He dialed the number connected to that name.
Dizzy’s vibrant bellow resonated. “Whitewater security.”
“Travis Mays here, Dizzy. You got a minute?”
“Sure. Got all the time in the world. Just sitting here watching people throw their money away.” His Earl Ray Jones voice softened. “How’s Frank doing?”
Travis gave an update. “Anyone else listening to this conversation, Dizzy?”
“Nah, man. My partner hit the head a few minutes ago. I’m solo right now.”
“I’ll make this quick. How far back do your security tapes go?”
“As far back as you want. We keep everything by date and time.”
“Fantastic. Can you get me in to review the tapes made just before Tommy disappeared? Need to look at the last four weeks prior to him disappearing.”
“Sure man. Anytime.”
Travis wasn’t certain how to phrase his next request. “I’m working out of the Idaho Sheriff’s office here in Grangeville. I don’t want to get you into any trouble, but I want to check on a couple of customers who popped up on the casino’s financial records. I’ll need to look at the tapes. I can be there whenever you can set it up.”
“Tell you what. How about I bring the tapes to you? Too many eyes here.”
He heard footsteps over the phone line. Someone coming back into the office.
Dizzy’s voice changed. “Sure enough, sweetheart. See ya after I get off tonight. I’ll bring those movies you wanted. Meet you about midnight? We’ll spend some quality time after that.” Dizzy hung up.
He glanced at his watch. The dial read 8 p.m.
Four more hours.
Chapter 68
Clearwater River, Idaho
Dizzy stretched and looked over at his partner. “Hey. Mind if I wander outside and stretch my legs? Be back in about twenty.”
The man laughed. “You’re going to do more than stretch your legs, Dizzy. Your wife know your messing around with some of the girls here?”
Dizzy fumed.” I don’t mess around, partner. Like the surgeon general’s warning on cigarettes, messing around on my old lady would be harmful to my health. Besides, I get all I need at home.”
The other man waved him off. “Get out of here. Go tell your lies somewhere else. And remember, I’ve got you on camera.”
As soon as Dizzy left the security office he slipped into a nearby darkened office, picked up an in-house phone and dialed a number. “Hey, angel. Dizzy here. Could you do me a favor?”
“Anything for you, sugar.” The woman’s hearty laugh drew a smile.
“You don’t know what I’m going to ask.”
“Hey, your wish is my command, big boy, as long as your sweet wife doesn’t mind.”
“That’s my girl.” Dizzy laid out his plan and hung up.
He exited the office and slowly wandered down the hall looking over his shoulder. He knew all the blind spots where cameras could not probe. A locked cabinet, bolted to the wall nearest him, was one of those spots. Only seconds elapsed as he took out a key from his pocket and unlocked the cover. Using a handkerchief he reached inside and removed a security access card, making sure no fingerprints were left inside or on the card he retrieved. The cards — this one identified as granting access to the casino’s security files storage room — only to be used by Robinette or his designated representative. Dizzy was not one of these chosen few.
Quickly, he locked up the panel and retreated down the hallway.
Several minutes later, Dizzy reached the storage room. He knew security cameras did not cover this part of the building, although in light of what he was doing right now he wondered why they left this place blind. Definitely an oversight by security experts. He slid the access card through a scanner and heard the door click. Once inside, he pulled the door closed and flicked on a penlight he always carried. A bead of light fell on rows of security disks, floor to ceiling. Dizzy quickly scanned for the date and time sequence Travis requested. Four disks. He took those and slid them under his coat before flicking off the light. He quickly left the room, pulling the door tightly closed behind him.
Muffled voices reached him, coming from a few yards away where the hallway angled at ninety-degrees to the right. Footsteps just around the corner. He hesitated, wondering if he should try to slip back into the locker room. Just as he pulled out the access card, voices faded away and he heard a door close.
Silence. He started breathing again.
As he rounded the corner, Dizzy saw some
one had left a laundry cart midway down the hall. He took the tapes and buried them under a pile of soiled towels. He started to relax as he pushed the cart toward a service elevator. As he pressed the down button, he heard the elevator already moving. Someone was using the lift.
There was no time to hide. The cart could not be left unattended. He’d have to take a chance. The elevator stopped on his floor and the doors rolled open. Steve Robinette strode out, glancing at Dizzy and at the cart next to him.
“What you up to Dizzy?”
Dizzy felt his voice thicken. “Just tidying up, Mr. Robinette. This cart was left in the hallway. Thought I’d take it down to laundry for the night crew.”
“Let someone else do that, Dizzy. I pay you good money to keep us safe.”
“Yes, sir. And that’s what I’m doing. But I like to help out wherever I can. You know, always trying to be the employee of the month and get that special parking place.” He grinned, trying to lighten the tension.
Robinette scowled. He shook his head, glanced at the cart again as he walked away.
Dizzy’s shirt felt like he’d just dived into a swimming pool, perspiration making his shirt cling to his skin. Robinette had been a pain to everybody at the casino every since the cops let him go after the interrogation. They had more things to worry about — Jessie kidnapped, Frank shot — than hassling Robinette at the moment. Rumor had it Robinette could be expecting legal action at any time. This made the casino manager edgy and he had become suspicious of everyone in the casino since the arrest.
Dizzy pushed the cart into the elevator and hit the basement button. Once there, he pulled out the tapes and wrapped them inside one of the towels. Leaving the laundry room, he glanced around once more before walking into the employee’s locker room.
He was alone.
Another blind spot from the security cameras. Quickly, Dizzy unlocked his locker and withdrew a gym bag. He spied a discarded paper bag from the casino’s gift shop left near an overflowing garbage can. He put the tapes inside, and stuffed the paper bag in with his gym clothes. Looking around once more, he shoved the gym bag back inside his locker and fastened the lock.
