by Domino Finn
The tints did a great job keeping the light out. They were too effective. It was nearly pitch-black inside, the only light coming from the open door and a few scratches in the windows. The door closed itself, though, and he had nothing to prop it open with. The biker could see glimpses outside through the torn areas of tint, but it was difficult to make out details within the RV.
That was okay. Diego didn't need details.
"Hazel?"
The emptiness didn't answer. Diego's eyesight adjusted and revealed a space that was very lived in. Garbage and half-used supplies were strewn on every countertop and seat. The carpet on the floor was worn thin. To his right was the curtain to the cab, but Diego didn't touch it for fear it would fall off its haphazard supports. Instead, he had an idea and opened the fridge.
A white light illuminated the room. It lit the living space and brought the squalor to full color. Considering the mess, Diego was surprised to see the kitchen sink and adjoining counter completely wiped down. He opened a few of the cabinets. Glasses, dishes, beef jerky, Lucky Charms. The cereal stood out.
The room darkened as Diego finished with the cabinets—the refrigerator had closed. He opened it again and its bright, white light filled the motor home. There was no milk or juice, just a few jugs of water, some jars of grease, and a plate covered with tinfoil.
Diego opened the small freezer above. It didn't have a working light but there was enough from below. Inside he saw an ice tray and a brown paper wrapper. Diego glanced out the window behind him and made sure he was still alone in the clearing. He was, but that didn't ease the sinking feeling in his stomach. He shut the freezer door and scanned the back of the RV.
A heavy door leading to what Diego presumed was the bedroom was shut. That was the back of the living space, where one of the windows was covered over with wood. The biker quickly moved to the door and noticed it was latched with metal braces looped by a chain. A master lock prevented access.
Diego winced as he tugged at it. It was a combination lock. The whole contraption was an add-on, an additional layer of security bolted over the frame. For that matter, the door itself didn't belong. It was heavy and solid under his hands. As he examined it, the refrigerator door closed and his light went away.
"Is anyone in there?" He pounded on the door. "Are you in there, Hazel? You can talk to me if you are. I'm a friend of Julia. I know your mother."
Still no answer. The biker put his ear against the panel to listen for breathing, shuffling—anything. As with the rest of the clearing, it was dead quiet.
Diego strained to see in the darkness and clawed at the door. It was loose, but locked. It made a lot of noise as it jiggled. Diego didn't attempt to muffle it. He imagined Hazel sleeping on the other side, scared but needing to wake up.
But nobody did wake up. Nobody announced themselves or called for help. He stopped shaking the door when he realized it was futile, but the silence and darkness threatened to drive him crazy. That was it. He needed to get in there somehow.
The biker moved back to the fridge and opened the door all the way. With the room lit, he moved back to the lock and examined it. He didn't know the combination and the chain was too heavy to break, but the metal loop was attached to the frame with normal screws. The biker drew his knife once more and set the tip of the blade to work as a screwdriver.
"If anyone's in there, I'm coming in. I don't mean you any harm."
The knife kept slipping out of the screw, but eventually Diego had twisted it out enough that his fingers could grip it and twist the rest of the way. He put the screw aside and went to work on the next one, but had to open the fridge again to get it started. The third time the door closed on him, he opened it and looked around for anything that could hold it open.
On the seat next to him, under some newspapers and a thick jacket, was a neatly folded child's plaid skirt.
Diego froze. The feeling hit him deep, between his stomach and chest. It was a sickening nausea, but his stomach was empty. Just panic, he knew.
Julia didn't remember the exact clothes Hazel had been wearing when she disappeared. But this meant she could be here. The reason for her failure to answer was obvious. But if the girl was no longer alive, why the need for the lock?
The light disappeared again and Diego took a few heavy breaths. At this point, he considered just breaking the door down. But he was warned to do things by the book. To allow Maxim and the police to do their jobs. To not get into trouble.
Already, Diego knew, it was too late for that.
"Goddamnit!" he heard from outside.
Diego's eyes shot to the window. Red was in the clearing. How'd he get here so fast? Diego peered between a strip of peeling tint.
The old man's metal crutch was speared into the ground, standing on its own beside him. Red was leaning over, working at his bad foot.
"Son of a bitch," he exclaimed. Red turned towards the RV.
Diego recoiled from the window. His back slammed into a storage cabinet, making a muffled sound. He froze.
Calm down, he told himself. Red couldn't see through the windows. Diego took a breath and peeked again.
Red's leg had gotten stuck in a soft patch of ground. The unwieldy leg brace had jutting hinges that must have made for some awkwardness. The old man tugged at his leg a few times and finally drew it free. He stood again to only a slight hunch and resumed his way to the vehicle, leaving the pole in the dirt.
"Shit," whispered Diego.
He glanced at the locked door. He wanted to say something but knew it was no use. If anyone was inside, they wouldn't answer. Speaking only made it likely that Red would overhear.
The outlaw knew he was done here. He could easily overpower the old man, but what would be next? His brawl with Jason Bower had left local law enforcement with little patience. Whether that was the Coconino County Sheriff's Office or the Williams Police Department, neither were his friends. The only thing to do was get Maxim. It was better than spooking Red and forcing his hand.
The biker hopped outside the door and shut it as softly as he could, but the RV rocked under his weight. He was on the far side of the vehicle, blocked by its massive size, and all he needed to do was make a beeline for the trees.
"Who's there?" Red called out.
Diego bolted, his boots skipping over dried grass and landing silently in patches of dirt.
"Damn it, children," cried the old man. "Leave me alone!"
The biker didn't have time to give the statement much thought, but it confused him. It confused the situation. What children was Red talking about?
As Diego ducked into the foliage, he saw the old man round the corner of his motor home and wave an arm in the air.
"You want me?" he challenged. "Come at me! I'm right here!"
Diego waited in his hunched position, hoping the man wouldn't give his mysterious visitor chase. Red didn't. He grumbled and paced a bit, but he quickly gave up and entered his RV, seeming not to notice the damage where Diego had jimmied it.
That's when Diego realized he left more obvious evidence of his intrusion behind. He'd been careful to close cabinets and put things back where he'd found them, even the skirt, but a single screw rested on the shelf next to the locked door. If Red really was keeping someone hidden in there, he would be sure to notice the tampering. Perhaps not immediately, but it would come to his attention and tip him off.
There was no more time to waste. Diego sprinted around the clearing and back to his bike. The whole time the outlaw in him wondered: was he being a responsible citizen, or was he merely playing it safe because he no longer had a gun?
Chapter 22
Maxim's Audi hit a dip in the dirt road and his head bumped against the door frame. The sports car had a stiff suspension; it wasn't built for this environment. The detective checked the rearview mirror for the twelve-year-old hunched in the tiny back seat.
"You okay, Annabelle?"
The girl mostly ignored him, wide eyes glued to the window, bu
t she afforded him a nod. Her attention was affixed to the land—the trees, the sky, the tracks. Maxim was taking special notice of Annabelle's attention. Her presence here was not ideal, but with another child missing, it was necessary. Annabelle's memory could be the difference between the life or death of Hazel Cunningham.
Although Annabelle was focused outside the car, her hands were fiddling with her key chain. With only a few keys, the bulk of the jingle came from the collection of ornaments. As her hands played with the key chain, Annabelle absentmindedly blinked an attached green LED flashlight on and off.
Maxim slowed his car and turned to the woman beside him. Olivia Hayes wore a taut smile and sat with her arms and legs crossed. Maxim was grateful that she didn't raise objections to this outing again. She looked his way with a terse warning. He returned a smile to lighten the mood.
Ahead of the car, Diego waved and pulled his motorcycle off the dirt road. Maxim parked behind the biker and watched him remove his helmet and gloves. With the car still running, the detective released a long sigh.
"This is it?" asked Olivia.
Maxim didn't answer. He scanned the road and the track and saw nothing but a mile of trees. His eyes followed Diego as he moved past the car towards a section of thinning trees. Something was there. Not a path, exactly, but a clearing.
"I think so," answered the detective. "Do you remember any of this Annabelle? The tracks?"
She shook her head. "I've never been here before."
Maxim winced. His little test was practically over before it started.
"Okay, this is what we're going to do. I want to check the place out first. Make sure it's safe." Maxim drew his Glock and made sure it was loaded before returning it to its holster. "Both of you should stay here until I get back."
"That's not the deal," said Olivia. "I don't want to be shut out of this. I'm cooperating under the condition that I know everything."
"I'll tell you—"
"I want to see it," she stressed. "Besides, at the house you said it was just an old man living alone." Olivia placed her hand over his. "I'm sure you can protect me. Annabelle, you stay in the car until I make sure it's okay for you to come out. Understood?"
"Yes, Mom."
"Whatever," said the detective, feeling a bit like a kid himself under her glare. He opened the door and got out. He would do it her way.
Diego leaned on a tree, watching the clearing. Maxim and Olivia approached him. Once they got closer, their angle to the clearing widened, and Maxim saw the dead trees and the RV. For a temporary camp, it appeared long used.
"He's a strange old man," said the biker. "He's definitely hiding something. But his mistake was leaving the skirt out. I saw it."
Maxim narrowed his eyes. "Through the windows, right?"
He felt Diego's pause. It gave credence to his suspicions. "Of course," answered the biker.
From here, Maxim could already tell the RV windows had blackout tints. This was why Maxim wanted to check out this lead alone, without Detective Harper. If Diego had done anything to compromise the investigation, Maxim wanted to put distance between any illegal acts and the rightful authorities. Maxim would simply treat this moment as first contact. As far as the courts would be concerned, everything was legit.
The detective glanced back at his TT. The sun shined off the silver paint. Annabelle was inside. She'd slid over to their side of the car and had her hands and face plastered to the window, staring at them. She was definitely curious about this place. For a girl apathetic to the world, that was notable, but he still hadn't seen any recognition.
"Okay. Let's go," he told them. Maxim marched forward and Diego grabbed his shoulder.
"Wait up," he said. "You can't just walk right up. He's home now. He'll see you."
Maxim shot Diego a smirk. "That's the point, isn't it?"
"Shouldn't you take out your gun at least?" asked Olivia.
"No." Maxim crossed his arms and faced them. "Listen up, both of you. We're following procedure here. I have a lead that I need to confirm. Just like everyone else, I need to give this man a chance to cooperate. I don't care what anyone thinks they saw, I need to see it with my own eyes before I jump to conclusions. Now, if you're concerned for your safety, stay here. Otherwise, you can come along, but I don't want anybody interrupting or doing anything to hinder the investigation. Got it?"
Olivia bit her lip, brushed her blonde hair from her face, and silently nodded. Diego simply looked away. The biker never liked being told what to do, but Maxim needed to do it. This was too important. Assuming they both understood, Maxim spun around and continued to the RV.
If it wasn't for the vehicle, this could have been a homeless shanty. A decrepit sofa. A pallet table. Meager possessions were placed haphazardly. Jugs and bottles everywhere. A wheelchair next to a fire pit. Maxim wondered what would make a person want to live like this.
On the way to the RV, they passed a strange pole planted in the ground. It was black, like old iron. Solid, but thin, and as tall as Maxim. There was a crossbar near the top, and the point above that was styled into a decorative fleur-de-lis.
Maxim paused and slid his hands along it. Something was familiar about the pole, as if he'd seen something like it before. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, he wondered what purpose it served. Then again, he could ask the same about any of the other junk.
Not unexpectedly, Maxim heard a door slam. He drew away from the post and checked the RV. He didn't see a door on the left side and figured the old man had seen them and exited from the other side. Maxim unclipped his badge from his belt and held it up in his left hand. His right hand remained free to draw his firearm at a moment's notice. They waited as Red circled the front cab and came into view.
"Sanctuary Marshal's Office," announced Maxim before the old man could greet them.
Immediately, Maxim felt it. Something was off. Red was built like a gorilla, with extended arms and large hands, but he was thin and hunched over. He wore a brace on his right leg and limped toward them, but something told Maxim it was an act. Like the wheelchair.
Red held a long chef's knife in his hand.
"Put the knife down!" ordered Maxim, resting his hand on his Glock. Red was dumbfounded and didn't move. "Put it down," urged Maxim again. He was still far enough away that the knife wasn't a threat, but he took a step backwards anyway.
Red came to his senses and turned his attention to the large blade. "Oh, this," he said, as if just noticing it. He slowly limped towards the stack of pallets and stabbed the knife into the tabletop. Next to the blade was a dead squirrel, and a fire crackled in the metal barrel. "It's just lunch."
The old man had a head of red hair. So that was where the nickname came from. But Maxim thought the color a little too crimson to be natural, especially for his age. "Do you have ID on you?"
"It's in the RV."
Red left the weapon behind and approached them again. Maxim let his weapon hand relax and put his badge away. The old man studied the three of them for a full minute before speaking. "I thought you were the park ranger," he grumbled. "I'm legal, you know. I paid all my tickets. Only been here a few days."
Maxim stepped ahead of Diego and Olivia to keep the focus on himself. "Since Easter night," he said.
Red's eyes narrowed and his face crumpled as he thought it over. "Yes, that's right. Who did you say you were again?"
"Detective Maxim Dwyer. I received a tip that you were in the area of Quiet Pines during a window in which a crime occurred. I was hoping to ask you a few questions."
"Of course." Red shot Diego a curious look. "What type of crime?"
"Will you allow me to search the premises?"
Red gnashed his teeth for a moment. "I thought you said you were a Sanctuary detective?"
"This is an unincorporated area, but you can still allow me to search."
"Why would I?"
"Because you're a concerned citizen."
"You still haven't told me what I have to be c
oncerned about."
Maxim frowned. He might as well get on with it before letting Red decide to become combative. He pulled his phone from his jacket and scrolled through pictures from the case. Brown hair, fair skin, and a crooked smile with dimples greeted him.
"Have you seen this girl?" he asked.
Red squinted at the small screen. "I can't say that I have." He pulled back and considered the other visitors. "She is cute, though. She's not the one that got lost, is she?"
"How did you know about that?" asked Diego.
"I was up in town earlier today," he said. "Everyone was talking about it. That's why you're here, am I right? This girl disappeared from the campgrounds and you're looking for her." The old man stood up straighter, showing off his tall form. He leered at Olivia strangely, and Maxim regretted allowing her here.
"Do you know anything about her whereabouts?"
"Why would I?" he asked, without taking his eyes off Olivia.
"Then let me search your RV. Prove that you're not involved."
Red scoffed. "This is ridiculous! Why do I need to prove anything? It's innocent until proven guilty, isn't it? Besides, everybody at the local campsites knows me. I'm a regular at all of 'em. Why would I steal a child?"
The old man turned to go but Maxim put his hand to his chest to stop him. The detective felt strength beneath the sagging skin. "Don't leave just yet," said Maxim. "You might object to my searching your vehicle, but this is public property. I can look around the outside as much as I want. And I'm gonna need you to stand right here while I do."
Red's lips jutted out. "I'm tired."
"You can sit down," countered Maxim. He picked up the wheelchair and set it beside the man. Red grumbled but accepted the offer. He carefully lowered himself into the seat, leaving his braced leg straight.
Olivia helped him sit. "What happened to your leg?"
The old man stared into the distance, but he couldn't maintain that for long with such a beautiful woman so close. "An accident," he said. "When I was younger."
"Why'd you attempt to stay at the campsite Sunday night?" asked Maxim.
