Burnt River

by Karin Salvalaggio

  “He’d made his peace. Jeremy may not have been related to him by blood, but he’d been there for John his entire life. In John’s eyes, Jeremy was his real father.”

  “So he gave up trying to find out who his mother was referring to?”

  “He didn’t say as much, but I was under the impression that he’d figured out who it was some time ago. He’d just been unwilling to let go and move on.”

  “He didn’t confide in you?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I can’t help you there. I will say that the last time he was here he seemed adamant about closing this chapter in his life. He was a very determined young man; I have no doubt he would have succeeded.”

  Macy closed her eyes for a second. “Did John ever speak about his relationships outside his family?”

  “I don’t think I’m revealing much that isn’t in the public domain by saying that he was at a crossroads romantically. I think the revelations about his parents really shook him up. Made him question the validity of long-term commitment. I saw his relationship with Lana as an act of rebellion, but also a way of reaching beyond the borders of his upbringing. Intellectually, she challenged him. It was a refreshing change.”

  “And what about his friends? Dylan, for instance.”

  “Dylan is my patient so I’m not at liberty to speak about him directly. I will say that John admired him greatly. Loved him like a brother.”

  “What about Tyler Locke?”

  “Tyler was both John’s close friend and his platoon sergeant. There was a great deal of mutual respect. He really looked up to Tyler, but he also worried about him.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “He didn’t go into detail. I imagine they depended on each other a great deal during their deployments. It would make sense for that interdependence to carry over into civilian life. Plus, Tyler was still in harm’s way and John was no longer there to protect him.”

  Macy started to gather her things. “Do you know if John spoke to his sister about what Annie told him?”

  “As far as I know she wasn’t told.” She paused. “I hope something you learned today was helpful. The news of John’s murder has been quite a shock.”

  “As I said, we’ve had some conflicting information about John’s state of mind. Given the source, it has to be taken seriously, so I’ll need to follow that line of enquiry further. At this point I have no idea whether the question of John’s parentage played a factor in his death, but it may yet come up.”

  “You will keep me posted?”

  “Absolutely. And again I apologize for earlier. Sometimes my mouth runs ahead of my head.”

  “I get the impression you’re very stressed.”

  “I’m a single parent, I work long hours, and the governor is a close friend of Jeremy Dalton. The pressure to get this right is enormous.”

  “You just have to let go of the stuff you can’t control. Who takes care of your son when you can’t be there for him? Do you feel he’s in good hands?”

  “Yes, that’s all fine. He’s well looked after.”

  “And your love life?”

  “I wasn’t joking. It’s a disaster.”

  “What about the drinking? Working in law enforcement is very stressful. You wouldn’t be the first one to drink one too many glasses of wine.”

  Macy rubbed her eyes. “More like whiskey.”

  “I think you should make a real effort to cut back. It will just exacerbate any problems you’re having, both at work and in your personal life.”

  Macy almost said that the two were the same thing, but kept her thoughts to herself. She stood up and held out her hand. “You’re right, of course. I’ll try.”

  Janet smiled for the first time. “Good to hear.”

  * * *

  Macy sat in Aiden’s office, going through her notes. It made no difference that the door was closed. Every sound, no matter how slight, set off a painful vibration in her skull. What she wanted more than anything was to go home to Helena and sleep for three days straight. She checked the time. She’d been assured that John Dalton’s commanding officer would be available to take her call. She’d already reviewed John’s service record and there was nothing to indicate that he had had any sort of breakdown. She took a sip of water and waited to be put through. Lieutenant Colonel Paul McDonald’s battalion was stationed at Bagram Air Base in eastern Afghanistan. She’d been expecting him to be full of bravado and bark down the phone like a character from a war movie. He was nothing of the sort. Once he heard the news about John it took him a long while to regain his composure. Macy was not prepared to hear a thrice-decorated soldier cry on the other end of the line.

  She tapped her notebook with her pen. “Perhaps I should call back later. This has been a big shock for everyone involved.”

  “No, no. That won’t be necessary. Just give me a sec.”

  Macy flipped through John’s service record. John had served under Paul McDonald for three years. She’d wait.

  He spoke softly. “In a way, everyone out here is like family, but John stood out. He was like a son.”

  “Considering where you spend most of your time, it must be difficult to stay emotionally detached.”

  “I breathe a sigh of relief whenever they head home unharmed. Can you tell me what happened? Was it an accident?”

  “Early yesterday morning John suffered a single gunshot wound to his head and two to his back. Death was instantaneous.”

  “A robbery.”

  “Nothing was taken.”

  “Christ.”

  “I’m interviewing everyone who was close to John. I’m not only trying to piece together his movements, I’m also trying to understand his state of mind. I’ve had some conflicting information in that regard, and I was hoping you could set me straight. I’ve read his service record, and there’s nothing to indicate he was having any difficulties during his time in Afghanistan.”

  “That’s because he wasn’t.”

  “There were never any incidents when he was fearful of going out on patrol, any indications that he had some sort of breakdown?”

  “I have an entire battalion under my command. Nearly eight hundred soldiers. I can do some checking but I’m telling you right now that John Dalton was of sound mind when he left here. How he reacted to being back home is another matter. Not everyone adjusts to civilian life. They live under constant strain here. We train them to be on guard to any threat, no matter how slight. I’m not going to apologize. It’s what keeps them alive. But what’s right for a war zone doesn’t always set well back home. I’ve seen some cases where these kids just snap. I don’t blame them. What they’re facing over here isn’t natural. Thankfully, the vast majority of our soldiers make the adjustment without difficulty.”

  “Did John have any worries about returning home? Did he ever mention any specific issues?”

  “I would have remembered something like that. I come from a family of ranchers as well. We used to drive everyone nuts talking about it. He seemed to really miss working with his father. He did mention his sister a lot. I think she was his twin.”

  “Yes, that’s right. Her name is Jessie.”

  “There was some kind of problem. Drugs, as I recall.”

  “She’s clean now.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  “Who was John closest to in his platoon?”

  “That’s an easy one to answer. It was always Tyler Locke. They grew up together.”

  “I’ve met Tyler.”

  “Yes, I understand he’s back home now as well.”

  “Is there anyone else besides Tyler who I can speak to?”

  “Hmmm. There are a couple of guys, but at the moment his platoon is stationed at the advanced command outpost.”

  “Any idea when they’ll be back?”

  “That’s classified.”

  “I’d like you to put them through to me as soon as you can.”

  “That might be a problem. I’ll get a message to them. One w
ay or another I’ll make sure you get the information you need.”

  “I’m reaching here, but could something have happened over there that may have followed John back to Wilmington Creek? I don’t know. A friendly fire incident? A disagreement with one of the other men? I can’t believe they’re weren’t any disputes.”

  “I’m telling you now that John was more of a peacemaker. I will ask the guys though. Someone may have heard something.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  Just as she was hanging up, Aiden walked in, smelling of wood smoke. He collapsed in his chair and threw his hat on the desk before gesturing to a small refrigerator in the corner. “Can you check if there’s anything to drink in there? I’m dying over here.”

  Macy raised a 7 Up and he nodded his approval. “That will do nicely.”

  She handed it to him and he drained it in a single shot.

  “You want another?”

  “Yes, please. Christ, it’s hot out there.” He dragged his hands across his face, leaving dark smudges.

  Macy gave him a tissue, along with another soft drink. “You have soot all over your face.”

  He mopped up. “I’m not surprised. It was hell down there. The crews only just managed to stop the fire from jumping Route 93. Ten homes were lost.” He tapped his desk with his knuckles. “So far no one has died.”

  “You’ve had three fires in quick succession. Have you considered the possibility that it might be arson?”

  “We’ve considered it, but so far we’ve got zilch. People are under the misconception that arsonists are stupid, but that’s because it’s only the stupid ones that get caught. How was your morning?”

  “I’ve just printed out Lana Clark’s case report. The officer handling her harassment case is supposed to call me after lunch.”

  “What about the therapist?”

  “Janet Flute confirmed that John was seeing her because he was having difficulty coming to terms with what Annie told him.”

  “Did she have any insight as to why John would believe Annie in the first place?”

  Macy got up and shut the door. “Janet advised John to be cautious, but apparently there were reasons for him to believe there was a possibility it was true. Janet wouldn’t go into detail, but did say that John had made his peace. He was loyal to Jeremy. Nothing his mother said would change that.”

  “Did he ever figure out who Annie might be talking about?”

  “The therapist was under the impression that John had figured it out some time ago, but he didn’t reveal any more details.”

  “Anyway, I’m not sure it’s relevant unless the father was someone who didn’t want to be found, and how likely is that?”

  “My thoughts exactly. Anyway, she didn’t corroborate what Tyler told us, but she only had six sessions with John and admits it’s impossible to develop a reliable picture of someone in such a short time. However, John’s former commander in Afghanistan also swears John wasn’t having any issues, but is putting me in touch with some of the guys that were closest to him. He did say that John and Tyler were exceptionally tight and that there was no telling how well a soldier would adapt to civilian life.”

  “So we’re still thinking Tyler would be best equipped to give us an accurate picture of John’s state of mind.”

  “Yes, but where does that really get us? Say John was stressed. That doesn’t explain why someone put a bullet in his head and then sent a message to his mother apologizing.”

  “You got another copy of Lana’s case report?”

  “It’s on the desk in front of you.”

  He yawned into his closed fist as he rose from the chair. “I’m gonna get some coffee. You want to join me?”

  “No thanks. I reached my daily limit a few hours ago.”

  “Okay, suit yourself. I’ll be back in a half hour or so.” He picked up the file and left without shutting the door.

  Macy stared at the open door. She had no idea if Aiden was offended or not. He seemed as hungover as she was, maybe a bit more irritable, but that was understandable considering the morning he’d had. She kicked the door shut with her foot and returned to her desk, where she sat facing the corner. Even though she’d done nothing wrong it always felt as if she was the one being punished. She’d spent the last three years being loyal to Ray Davidson, but he didn’t seem to be any closer to moving on from his marriage than he was when they started seeing each other the first time he and his wife separated. The only promising thing he’d done recently was to acknowledge that Luke was his son, but the way he’d gone about it only frustrated Macy further. He wanted Luke to have his surname and was surprised Macy didn’t jump at the chance to change the birth certificate. Ray had seen Luke only four times since he was born. The first occasion had been when Macy ran into him and his wife at a barbecue. Luke was eight months old and anyone who was looking could see how much he resembled Ray. His wife hesitated before offering her congratulations. Macy knew she was doing the math. She was a smart lady. She would have figured out then and there that Luke was conceived while she and Ray were still separated. Since Ray had asked about changing the birth certificate, Macy had also been doing some math. In the nineteen months since Luke was born, Ray had had less than four hours of actual contact. There was no way her son would ever be Luke Davidson. Macy looked over her shoulder at the closed door. She’d lied to Aiden. She was actually desperate for another cup of coffee. She slipped Lana’s case report in her bag and went to find him.

  12

  The home Tyler had inherited from his grandmother was located close to where Tucker Road came to a dead end on the eastern shores of the Flathead River. It stood on a windswept lot guarded by chain-link fencing and warning signs. It had been closed up since his grandmother went into the hospital seven months earlier, and no matter how long Tyler left the windows open, the smell of her last year in residence wouldn’t be shifted. His mother liked to say that she’d been too stubborn to leave the place in peace. Tyler liked to say his grandmother had been too stubborn to change her colostomy bag.

  Dylan knocked a couple of times before easing open the screen door.

  “Hey, Tyler. You here?”

  The television was frozen on the image from a video game. Blankets were strewn across the sofa, and the ashtray on the floor next to it overflowed with cigarette butts. Porn magazines, video games, and empty beer bottles covered the coffee table. Dylan went into the kitchen and felt the coffeepot with the back of his hand. It was still warm so he poured some into a cup. Thinking Tyler may have gone back to bed, he wandered down the hallway.

  “Tyler, I got your message.”

  The bedroom door was ajar, the unmade bed clearly visible. He knocked but there was no answer. He eased the door open further. The floor was covered in dirty laundry. A military kit bag was thrown in the corner, its contents spilling out. He heard music coming from the direction of the garage. He shifted the curtains and looked outside. The side door to the one-story building was open. Dylan went back into the living room and found a scribbled note on the sliding glass doors telling him to come around back to the garage. He stepped out onto the porch. A backhoe was parked above a deep pit. Cinder blocks were stacked on wooden pallets along the back fence.

  Dylan knocked loud enough to be heard over the music and waited by the door. Tyler was sitting on a stool at the workbench, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts and flip-flops; his wide tattooed back was damp with sweat. He adjusted the position of a lamp that was attached to the wall before reaching up to lower the volume on a pair of portable speakers.

  “Hey, Dylan.”

  “Hey.”

  “You manage to get any sleep?”

  “A bit. You?”

  “Not really.”

  Dylan leaned against the open door where it was marginally cooler. Self-conscious about the scars that roped his thigh, he hadn’t worn shorts in public since he was wounded. Compared to the glaring sunlit sky outside, the garage was dark and his eyes we
re slow to adjust. Every tool Tyler’s grandfather had ever owned was carefully displayed along one of the walls. Fishing and hunting gear took up the other. There were two deep freezers humming along the back wall. Above them Tyler had taped the blueprints for a nuclear fallout shelter he was digging in his backyard. Dylan and John had laughed when Tyler told them about the plans he’d downloaded from a survivalist’s Web site. He’d glared at them.

  We’ll see who has the last laugh.

  Tyler uncoiled orange det cord from spools and cut it into equal lengths. There were eight three-pound Pentolite explosive cylinders and a single electronic detonator stowed in a box on the floor. Dylan walked over and picked up the detonator. It was the same type they used in the army.

  “I see Wayne isn’t the only one stealing stuff from work.”

  Tyler shrugged. “It’s not like they’re going to give me a gold watch.”

  “You have everything you need?”

  Tyler picked up an explosive cylinder and peered down the hole bored through its length. “You should see Wayne’s place. He’s gonna get caught if he keeps taking this stuff.”

  “Is there any way it can be traced back to him?”

  “If they blow like they’re supposed to do, that won’t be a problem we have to worry about.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “I’ll make sure they’re clean.” Tyler threaded det cord through the cylinder and tied off the end before wrapping the cord in loops and securing it with black electrical tape. He put the bundle to one side and started the next one.

  “This seems like too much.”

  “We only have one shot at it so I’m going for overkill.”

  “Wade called this morning.”

  Tyler frowned. “Did anything happen after we left?”

  “No. He just wanted to thank us for helping out.”

  “And so he should.”

  “He went out early this morning to have a look around. You’ll be relieved to know you didn’t shoot any livestock.”

  “I wasn’t imagining things. I saw something out there.”

  “I’m not doubting you.”