Dunston Falls (19 page)

Returning to the snowmobile, Peck drove it to the rear of the cabin and hid it in a snowdrift. There was half a thermos of coffee left in the saddlebag and he brought it inside the cabin.

Sipping coffee, Peck sat in a chair and smoked a cigarette. Exhaustion began to seep into his body and slow his thought process. He needed to sleep.

Standing, Peck took a chair and smashed it on the floor. He placed the broken pieces of wood into the woodstove, and then searched the cabin for some kind of starter. He found dozens of old newspapers in a drawer next to what used to be a sink, crinkled some of them and stuffed them into the woodstove. He lit the newspaper with his lighter. They burned quickly, the fire took hold, and the chair pieces burned.

After replacing the door, the tiny cabin was nearly airtight and it warmed within minutes.

Drained of all energy, Peck lay down on the lumpy, old bed, positioned himself in such a way as to avoid the mattress springs and was asleep within seconds.

Night had fallen by the time Peck stirred on the bed. He awoke, stood up and stretched the kinks from his back. He was beginning to feel his age, which at that moment felt more like eighty-three than fifty-three.

Outside the cabin, Peck could hear the winds of a new storm approaching. He peeked through the door and fresh snow was falling. His tracks were already covered. If they were searching for him, and Peck was sure that they were, it would be impossible to trail him to the cabin. They would have to wait out the storm, which bought him additional time. But, time to do what?

Peck used more of the old newspapers to start another fire made from the second chair. As the cabin warmed, he searched the drawers and cabinets above and below the old sink and discovered four unopened cans of baked beans. Hidden in an old coffee can under the sink, Peck found a sealed pint bottle of bourbon.

Using the utility knife on his belt, Peck opened a can of beans and set it on the fire to heat. He sat on the bed, cracked the seal on the bourbon and took a thirsty swallow. The liquor immediately heated his stomach. After a second swallow, the warmth spread to his entire body. Carefully, he poured a small amount of bourbon into the open can of beans.

He lit a cigarette. Okay, so he would not starve or freeze to death in the immediate future. That was not nearly good enough. He needed food, supplies, and most of all answers.

As Peck thought, the can of beans bubbled over on the woodstove. He removed it and used the utility knife to spoon beans into his mouth. He washed the meal down with several more hits of bourbon.

The snow was falling harder when he left the cabin and mounted the snowmobile. There was half a tank of gas left and he needed more fuel. He decided to go shopping.

At the intersection of a fire road deep into the woods, Peck shut down the engine and sat still for several seconds, straining his hearing. Sound traveled exceptionally well at night and even better when it snowed. In the far distance, he heard the rumbling of snowmobile engines.

They were looking for him.

Peck started the engine and drove along the fire road until he spotted a small house set back off the road. He parked the snowmobile several hundred feet from the house and stayed along the tree line as he approached it on foot.

The house was dark and quiet. Its residents were probably still in town at one of the shelters. Peck went to the front door and found it unlocked. He entered, using his flashlight to guide him into the house where he searched the rooms on the first floor. Nobody was home. There was a spiral staircase adjacent to the living room, which probably led to a second floor, master bedroom. He skipped searching the second floor and went directly to the kitchen.

The cabinets were full of caned goods, bottled water and packaged foods. Hidden below the sink, wrapped in a towel was a carton of cigarettes. Peck ripped the curtains off a kitchen window and loaded as much as he could fit onto the material and tied it into a knot. As an afterthought, he took four packs of cigarettes from the carton. They weren’t his brand, but they would do.

Peck was about to exit the house and search the shed out back for gasoline when he heard a noise from the second floor. He paused, waited and heard it again. He strained his hearing, still unsure of what the noise was, but it sounded like a footstep.

Peck set the sack of goods on the floor and drew his revolver. He approached the spiral staircase and slowly, silently ascended it. At the top of the landing was a single door and it was closed. Peck replaced the flashlight into his belt and stood close to the door to listen.

There was the sound of breathing, labored and strained as if someone were struggling desperately to breathe.

He looked down to the bottom of the door and flickering light reflected on the wood floor. The light of a candle, he guessed. Grabbing his flashlight, Peck took hold of the doorknob, counted to three and shoved open the door.

A naked woman, tied with rope to the bed jumped as Peck entered the bedroom. Her mouth, bound with duct tape muffled her scream. As Peck took a step toward the bed, she signaled him with her eyes.

Peck spun around a second too late and the man in the ski mask smashed the revolver from his hand with a fireplace log. As the gun hit the floor, the man in the ski mask swung the log again and hit Peck in the face. Peck partially blocked the log with his arms, but the force of the blow was enough to knock him down.

From the floor, Peck looked up and saw the man in the ski mask take off running. Peck shook off the effects of the blow, picked himself up and gave chase.

By the time Peck reached the first floor, the man in the ski mask was at the door. He ran outside and Peck followed, but the man in the ski mask had already disappeared into the woods by the time Peck reached the fringe of the fire road. He stared into the dark woods, trying to pick up his trail, but it was no use. He could be heading in any direction and if Peck chose the wrong way he could wind up turned around and lost until morning.

Peck returned to the house where he cut the woman loose. She had an immediate breakdown. He did his best to console her as he slipped a robe over her shoulders. Peck poured two stiff drinks from the first floor bar and gave her one.

“He won’t be back,” Peck reassured her.

“How do you know?” the woman sobbed between sips of her drink.

“Because you’re still alive and I’m a witness.””

“But, you’ll catch him?” She looked Peck in the eye. “You will catch him, won’t you, sheriff?”

Peck nodded.

“He was going to kill me,” the woman said and cried openly again.

“But he didn’t and you’re still alive and that’s what you need to think about,” Peck said.

She nodded. “How did you know? That he was here, I mean.”

“I didn’t,” Peck said, thinking fast. “I was patrolling the woods, hoping to run across him. I guess I just got lucky.”

The woman nodded again. “It was me that got lucky,” she said. Peck studied her face. She was about fifty and attractive. He remembered her from church. She sat close to the front during last Sunday’s mass. If nothing else, Peck took some satisfaction in the knowledge that he was right; the killer was using the church to select his victims. How he knew the names and addresses of the victims he selected was another matter. One he would study later when there was more time. If there was more time?

“I’ll need my gun,” Peck said. He returned to the bedroom and retrieved it from the floor. He also found the kitchen knife the man in the ski mask would have used to cut the woman open.

Entering the living room where the woman sat on the sofa, Peck said, “I have to go if I’m going to pick up his trail.”

“You’re leaving me?” the woman protested. “What if he comes back?”

“He won’t, I told you. And the longer I wait the less chance I have of catching up to him.”

The woman began to cry again.

Peck said, “Does your car run?”

The woman sobbed into her hands.

“Your car, does it run?”

The woman raised her face. Dark streaks ran down her cheeks. “Yes.”

“Get in it and drive to town and stay at the hospital until we catch him. You’ll be safe there.”

“Will you wait at least until I get dressed?”

“Yes.”

While the woman returned to the bedroom to change, Peck carried the sack of goods he gathered earlier to his snowmobile. When he returned, the woman was ready.

“Drive straight to the hospital,” Peck told the woman as she entered her car.

He waited for her to start the engine and drive away on the ice covered, dirt road before he returned to the snowmobile.

It was after midnight by the time Peck returned to the deserted cabin. He ripped off cabinet doors, broke them into pieces, and loaded the wood into the woodstove. He rolled sheets of old, yellow newspaper into logs, stuffed them around the wood and used them to ignite a fire.

With a hand held can opener he took from the woman’s house, Peck opened a can of beef stew and baked beans, and set them on the woodstove. He ate a chocolate bar from her kitchen while he waited for the food to heat.

He sat on the bed, lit a cigarette, opened the bottle of bourbon to clear the taste of chocolate from his tongue and mulled things over in his mind. Absolutely nothing made sense. The killer of women and a state trooper ran free while he was the hunted. It was just dumb luck he chose that woman’s house to rummage and saved her life. Ten minutes later and he would have stumbled upon victim number four.

Gasoline. He forgot to check the shed for gasoline. There was a quarter of a tank left in the snowmobile. If he were to make a run for the next town, he would need a full tank and maybe extra. He would have to venture out and find a place to fill up.

The stew and beans boiled over and Peck removed them from the woodstove. He ate at the bed and too tired to think anymore, laid down for some much needed sleep.

The dream crept into his sleep as a black cloud in the back of his mind. Slowly, the cloud took shape and color until the form of a young boy appeared. The young boy was on the fireman’s ladder, reaching for help as flames raged all around him. The boy’s face seemed strangely familiar as he cried loudly for help. The fireman came into view. His out of focus face slowly materialized. The fireman was Peck as a younger man.

In his sleep, Peck gasped and twisted violently on the bed, but didn’t wake up.

The dream continued.

He reached for the boy and pulled him to the safety of the ladder. Suddenly from above, burning debris fell from the building and struck the ladder. The boy tried to hold on, but lost his grip. Peck reached for the boy, but the boy fell several flights to his death. Horrified, Peck watched as the boy struck the sidewalk below.

Yelling in his sleep, Peck woke himself with a start and sat up on the bed, gasping for breath. It took several seconds for him to regain his bearings and remember he was alone in the old cabin. He stood up and opened the door for some fresh air to clear his head. The morning sun was warm on his face. The storm had passed and the sky was clear and bright. He lit a cigarette and smoked as he looked at the freshly fallen snow. His tracks were completely covered. He was safe for one more day, but he would have to make his move soon to escape Reese and his men. It struck him then, escape to where? And to do what?

Peck went inside to make a fire. Hardly anything remained of the table. He smashed up the legs, put them into the woodstove, and balled up some of the newspapers. He heated another can of beef stew and ate it on the bed.

As he picked at the stew, Peck glanced at a newspaper on the floor. It was the first time he actually took the time to look any of them. There was a headline, SOX DEFEAT YANKEES THE CURSE IS LIFTED.

Peck stared at the headline. The can of beef stew slipped from his hands. Peck reached for the newspaper. It was yellow with age and brittle. He looked at the date of the story. September of 2004.

Peck tossed the newspaper aside and reached for several others. BUSH WINS A SECOND TERM, another headline read. ELECTIONS SUCCESSFUL IN IRAQ, a third quoted.

The newspaper fell to the floor as the room began spinning around inside his head. He tried to steady himself against the wall, but his legs turned to rubber and the room spun around him faster and faster until he slumped to the floor and blacked out.

Peck stirred and slowly awoke on the dusty floor of the cabin. Without his watch, he had no way of knowing how long he lay on the floor, but he judged he had been out for more than an hour by the embers in the woodstove. He stood up cautiously on unsteady legs, picked up the bourbon bottle from the bed and took a good, long drink.

Deb Robertson’s house looked cold and uninviting from Peck’s vantage point in the woods. It appeared to be unguarded, forgotten. He left the snowmobile in the woods, walked to the garage, and opened the door. There were two five-gallon gas cans on the floor next to her truck.

Peck returned to the snowmobile and drove it into the garage. He refilled the tank, then strapped the second five-gallon can to the back seat with rope his found on a workbench.

He was about to leave when he noticed the connecting door to the house. He tried the door and it was unlocked. Entering the living room, Peck made a quick search by flashlight and found nothing of any use. Reese and his men had done an excellent job of cleanup. He went to the kitchen without any idea of what he was searching for and rummaged the cabinets above and below the sink. There was nothing. If there was, he had overlooked it.

Peck went to the second floor to the master bedroom. The sheets and blankets were missing from the bed. Nothing remained of his encounter with Deb Robertson except the memory of their night together. He opened the walk-in closet and found it empty of all clothing.

Peck turned away, sat on the bed, and lit a cigarette. Reese must have had all of Deb’s clothing confiscated for testing, although he couldn’t see why. Whatever hair and fiber evidence to be found would come from the bed and rugs, not the clothing in the closet. As he mulled things around in his mind, Peck noticed a piece of tape hanging down from under the top shelf of the closet.