“But the hit wasn’t completely successful.”
“True, but I wouldn’t bet on Dirk’s longevity.” Ray made a pointing motion with his right hand, “His drive is coming up on the left.”
Sue turned into the drive, and Ray remained silent as she wound her way up the drive to the house.
“Looks like Donna left,” he said, noting the absence of her truck.
The door was opened before they reached it. Dirk was dressed in a fresh denim shirt and jeans, the careful pressing on each indicating they were just back from the laundry.
Dirk led them in, only this time he took them to the kitchen, a large room near the front door. They sat at a rustic, pine table in chairs made from cut down whiskey barrels covered with black leather cushions. A coffee pot and mugs were at the center of the table. Dirk filled a mug and passed it to Ray. “You want some?” he asked Sue.
“No, thank you.”
“You said you had something important to talk about,” Dirk’s focus was on Ray, his tone hostile.
“It’s about Danny.”
“What about him?”
“When they first called us, they thought his death was accidental. Seems it wasn’t quite an accident. When they were getting the body ready for the autopsy, they found he had been shot.”
“How could they….”
“The sheriff said Danny had crashed at a very high speed. The sled was wrapped around a tree, and it was after two a.m. and snowing hard. It just looked like an accident,” Ray explained.
Dirk pulled a cigarette from a pack on the table and lit it. “I just don’t fucking believe this. What else did they miss?” Ray and Sue didn’t respond.
“Is that all you got to tell me? If so, I’d be happy to have you go away and leave me alone.”
“There is something else, Dirk. We think that the shooter who wounded Lynne might have mistaken her for you.”
“What? Give me a break. We hardly look alike,” he growled.
“But that morning she was driving your truck; she stopped to get the mail about the time you do, and she was wearing your barn coat with the hood pulled up.”
“And the shooter was trying to get a kill in less than perfect conditions,” added Sue.
Ray sat and watched Dirk absorb the information. He observed Dirk’s tough exterior soften, he could see perspiration form on his forehead, and he could smell fear in the air.
“What does that have to do with me?” Dirk uttered, trying to wish away the obvious.
“Everything, Dirk. Your brother’s dead, your wife almost died.” Ray paused and let the information sink in. Then he continued, “Someone is trying to kill you, Dirk. Next time they probably won’t miss.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want to know why. We might be able to help you if you help us. What’s going on? Who wants you dead, Dirk?”
“How the fuck should I know,” he responded, grinding the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray and lighting another.
“Could it be something from the old days, like the thing that got Kenny dead?” Ray asked.
“Look, I don’t need to talk to you about this. It’s none of your fucking business. Just leave me alone. And you can take my job and stuff it, too.”
“What are you saying?” asked Ray.
“I resign, I quit. Now get the fuck out of here. Leave me alone.”
“Dirk, we can help you,” said Ray.
“I don’t want any help. I just want you to get out of my face.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, and then Ray and Sue slowly stood and walked toward the front door. Ray stopped and turned, “If you want out, put it in writing. Until I get your letter, you’re still a member of the department.”
Sue dropped into a chair and waited, her impatience evident by her rocking as she waited.
“Okay,” said Ray, looking in her direction, “tell me about the Uzi.”
“I just talked to the lead investigator on the Danny Lowther murder,” Sue began. “The guy’s name is Bergman, Floyd Bergman. He said they estimate Danny was probably going more than seventy miles an hour when he lost control of his sled and smashed into the tree. The machine was completely destroyed, the plastic parts splintered and smashed, the frame wrapped around the trunk. But in the daylight they could see evidence that it had been sprayed with automatic fire. And at one side of the trail they found the brass, 9 millimeter, 20 spent cartridges. His guess is that the shooter emptied the magazine in Danny’s direction. They are sending the brass to the State Police lab.”
Ray closed his eyes for a few seconds. He could see the whole scene: the scream of the snowmobile engine, the ripping blast from the Uzi, the concussion as metal, plastic, and flesh deformed against the tree, and then the silence of a winter night and the smell of gun powder.
“Bergman said the shooter was obviously familiar with Danny’s habits: the time he left the bar each evening, the route he took to his girlfriend’s house. He said the shooter picked an isolated spot where there are no occupied dwellings in the area in the winter.”
“But the body was found last night?”
“Yes, Bergman said that was sort of a fluke. A group of late night riders came through, probably not long after it happened, found the wreckage, and called 911. The EMS crew was at the scene before a deputy. There was massive damage to the victim’s neck and head. It just looked like Danny was thrown head first into the tree. And given the hour and weather, that’s the way it was treated.”
“Any suspects?”
“Not yet. They’re just getting started.”
“Anything else?” Ray asked.
“Gavin Mendicot. I did some checking. A few speeding tickets, public drunkenness, and a DUI. His legal address is a piece of land on the shore south of Crescent Cove. I checked the tax records. The property is in his name, but the tax bills are sent to a law office in Chicago.”
“Do you think this might have started as part of a love triangle—Donna, Gavin, and Dirk?” asked Ray.
“Possible. But how about Danny?”
“We don’t know if there’s a connection. It might just be a bizarre coincidence. But I’d like to have a conversation with Gavin as soon as possible,” said Ray, using the desk to help pull himself to his feet.
Thirty minutes later, they were at the side of a snow-covered road, looking at a drifted-over two-track that disappeared into a low swampy area as it meandered toward Lake Michigan.
“I don’t know if we can get through,” commented Sue.
“Give it a try,” said Ray. “We’ll hike in with snowshoes if we get stuck.”
Sue locked the Jeep in four-wheel drive and started down the two-track. He could hear the vehicle bottom out as they plowed through the snow and noted that Sue kept the speed up to have the momentum to break through the deep drifts. As Sue came around a tight curve, she suddenly jerked the Jeep to the right and barely missed a snow-covered Bronco blocking the two-track, her vehicle sliding to a stop off the road.
Sue attempted to back out, only to find that the vehicle was stuck. Then she attempted to rock the Jeep, but that only seemed to make it sink deeper into the snow and mud.
“Do you want to try?” she asked, looking over at Ray.
“No,” he said. He keyed the radio, gave their location, and requested a tow truck.
They climbed out of the jeep and worked their way to solid ground and approached the dented and rusting black Blazer. Ray brushed some snow from the passenger side window and looked in. “Don’t like that,” he said.
Sue scrutinized the two loaded magazines and boxes of cartridges lying on the seat. “Nine millimeter,” she said, a wariness coming into her voice.
“Get the prosecutor’s office on your cell and request a search warrant,” Ray said. He worked around to the driver’s side as Sue made the call.
“Probably ten or fifteen minutes, they have to locate the judge,” Sue said to Ray as she slid her phone back into a breast pocket.
They walked back and inspected the Jeep.
“I’ve got a shovel in the back,” Sue offered.
“Waste of time, it’s buried to the axles. But if you get the snowshoes, we can see if we can find Gavin’s place.”
They started up the road toward the lake, following a set of partially filled tracks. A large Victorian cabin stood in the center of a small clearing; a thin wisp of smoke curled out of a brick chimney.
Ray moved forward and looked in several windows, finally knocking at the rear door that faced the drive. Sue stood off to the side, weapon hand at the ready. When there was no response, he started circling the building, cautiously peering through windows as he went. After checking the front of the cottage on the lakeside, he motioned Sue to join him. He directed her attention to a set of fresh footprints in the snow that started at the front of the cottage and ran toward the shore. They followed the prints, Ray in the lead, Sue ten yards behind, looking for cover in case it was needed. They stopped on the bluff overlooking the beach. Far below they could see a man struggling to push an aluminum boat into the rolling surf. He jumped in and started to row, pulling hard on a pair of oars until he got beyond the breaking waves. Then they heard the whine of the starter and saw a plume of grayish-blue smoke as the engine coughed and finally started. They stood in silence and watched the small boat plow straight into the icy surge for several hundred yards before it turned north and started up the coast.
“Where do you think he’s going?” asked Sue.
“I wonder,” Ray responded.
As they retraced their steps on the snowshoe-flattened path back toward the Blazer, Sue took the call from the prosecutor verifying that the request for the search warrant had been granted. “We’re legal,” she called to Ray. Ray pulled on the latex gloves Sue had handed him and opened the door. He picked up one of the magazines and examined it closely, turning it over. Pointing out a small star near the base, he observed, “Military issue, the real thing. Wonder if he is carrying the Uzi?”
Sue reached in and picked up a credit card receipt. “He bought some gas this morning.”
“Where?” asked Ray.
“On the other side of the bridge, Newberry. I think we might be about to provide a solid suspect for the Danny Lowther murder.”
Sue opened the glove box. “Looks like we’ve got the village apothecary here.”
“Quite an assortment,” said Ray as he looked though the contents, “papers, weed, this is probably coke.” Then he held up a prescription bottle, “And some Oxycontin.”
“Maybe he medicates on the road when he’s listening to Rush,” offered Sue.
“Share the joy,” Ray responded. “Seems to wash things down with schnapps or Hot Damn,” he noted, pointing out the collection of pint bottles on the passenger side floor.
“He’s not a neat,” said Sue. “Let’s check the back.”
They moved to the back of the vehicle, opened the tailgate, and started looking through the chaos of soiled clothing, empty food containers, beer cans, and liquor bottles. Sue pulled a rifle case from the bottom of the debris and partially opened the zipper, exposing a high-powered rifle and scope. “Some deer rifle,” said Sue sarcastically. She opened the bolt. The gun was empty.
“I wonder if there’s a match between that and the casing you found,” said Ray. “Let’s put together a greeting party, if and when Gavin comes back. Also, request a search warrant for the house.”
“Will do.”
The sound of the diesel engine brought their attention to the large tow truck backing up the road in their direction.
“As soon as we get pulled out and are on the road, we’ll have him tow this to the impound yard so you can do a thorough search and cataloguing.”
“Let’s sit for a few minutes and sort out what we should do,” said Ray, pulling a small notebook from his coat pocket.
“Sheriff, this is central,” the radio came alive.
“Go ahead, central.”
“I have a Harry Hawkins on the phone. He insists that he must speak with you. Says it’s an emergency.”
“Give him my cell number,” said Ray. They sat in silence for a few moments waiting for the call.
Ray pushed the answer key as the phone started emitting its tinny tone.
Sue listened to one side of the conversation.
“When did this happen?”
“Why is he out there alone?” he asked.
“Why don’t your people handle it?”
“We will be there.”
“Let’s go,” said Ray.
“Where to?”
“Crescent Cove,” he answered. “As fast as you can without getting us maimed or killed.”
“What’s going on?”
“Let me get things started, and then I’ll explain,” said Ray. As Sue drove toward Crescent Cove with lights and siren on, Ray called Ben Reilly, asking him to the bring the Zodiac, dry suits, body armor and additional weapons. He also told Reilly what they had found in Gavin Mendicot’s truck, that Mendicot was the probable assailant in the Danny Lowther killing, and that they just saw him launch a boat, adding that he might be heading toward Round Island.
When he completed his call, Ray turned to Sue. “This is the situation. Boyd told Hawkins he needed to be alone for a while, and he was going over to Round Island to think things over. Boyd took the only boat they have operational; everything else is in dry dock for the winter.”
“So what’s the big deal?”
“Two things. Boyd said he’d be back by early afternoon, but he hasn’t returned. Hawkins says Boyd is in failing health, and he’s over on the island without his necessary medications. But the real big deal is Hawkins walked in on Boyd and overheard him having an angry conversation with someone on the phone this morning. After he got off the phone, Boyd told Hawkins that it was Dirk.
“You know how they have surveillance cameras all over; they’ve got them on the perimeter of the island, too. Hawkins was notified that a boat has landed on the west side of the island. He said he went and reviewed the surveillance video. The intruder is Dirk Lowther, and he’s armed with a rifle. Hawkins says the two men hate each other, and he’s worried about Boyd’s safety.”