Resolution: Evan Warner Book 1 (21 page)

29

“You busy?” I asked when he answered.

“Just reading. What’s up?”

“Quick question. What do we do if someone abandons a car at the campground?”

“Has it got plates?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“How long has it been sitting?”

“Not long,” I said. “I’m just checking ahead of time. We don’t know if it was left on purpose or if someone got lost or what. It’s been a hectic weekend.”

“Anything else suspicious?”

“No. It’s a quiet night. No complaints at all so far.”

“Maybe it’s nothing.”

“Maybe it’s just parked at an empty site because it wouldn’t fit in the spot at another site. I haven’t gone around asking about it yet.”

“That’s probably it,” he said. “Someone sneaking extra guests in for the price of one tent sight.”

I said, “Cheap bastards.”

“Keep an eye on it,” he said. “Let me know if you need me.”

“Will do. Later.”

I ended the call and looked around at Willie and Kendra in the dark. Let my eyes adjust after the light of the phone.

“Brady didn’t call Uncle Danny,” Willie stated. “He towed the Escalade on his own.”

“Right,” I said. “So what’s the motivation from their angle?”

“Sell it for parts.”

“They know they’re doing something wrong,” Kendra said. “What else can it be?”

“You’re right,” I said. “And you’re wrong.”

She said nothing. Just stared at me, waiting for an explanation.

“Brady doesn’t think fighting and killing dogs is wrong,” I said. “You think it’s wrong. You would have a guilty conscience. You’re right about that. But Brady wouldn’t feel bad. He likes causing grief and trouble. He smiled about the fact that he killed Snowball. His dad stuck up for him to the principal. Said it was all an accident. His girlfriend sticks up for him to this day. What kind of profile does that paint in your mind?”

“Holy shit,” Willie muttered. “Is he worse than we thought?”

“Could be.”

“He’s got to be hiding something bigger than dogs out here. Why else would they be monitoring the trails and towing vehicles away?”

I said nothing. I was thinking back to my conversation with Amy the previous day. About Lucy’s missing flyer.

“And it can’t be just him,” Willie continued. “The old man has to be in on it. Tommy can’t hide parties and dogs and whatever else he’s into. The old man can’t be that distracted with business. At the very least he’s aware, if not active.”

I pressed my back against the cab of the truck. Willie was right. And now my mind was racing. An idea was coming together, taking shape. It was simple and obvious and seemed way too good to be true.

No one else around could move an SUV without using a huge flatbed truck and a winch. No one else would have the motivation to move it. And no one else would care about its presence, even if they did happen upon it by chance. This is a town of nine hundred mostly old-fashioned people. They mind their own business. So something about it obviously concerned the Bradys. Seriously. And it hadn’t been reported to my uncle. He would have mentioned it. I knew that for a fact. He would have jumped at the idea of another abandoned vehicle in town on the very same day. So the Bradys had handled it themselves, quietly. As people tend to do when they’re keeping secrets.

“Kendra,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“When you were out here that night, you said it was definitely a party in the field.”

“It was. Definitely. Guys were drunk and or high. Shouting like crazy.”

“Mostly guys? Not many girls?”

“Yeah.”

“Who the hell wants to go to a sausage fest?” Willie said.

“Exactly,” I said.

He stared at me in the dark.

“Guys looking to make quick money,” I said. “Jared Benson told me about these parties. They’re more about moving heroin than anything else, including the fighting dogs. The dogs are just a sideshow.”

“Holy shit,” Willie muttered.

“Rumors,” I said to Kendra. “You hear tons of them at work.”

“More than I can remember.”

“The Kurtz girls are into heroin. You told me that.”

“So I’ve heard. But like you said, they’re rumors.”

“Doesn’t matter. All rumors can’t be completely wrong. Don’t you see?”

She didn’t answer right away.

“I’m an idiot,” I said.

They both looked at me.

“This has all been going on right under my nose and I’ve been ignoring it. I never would’ve let myself suspect Brady, because it would’ve been too easy. He could cure cancer and I’d still hate his guts. No point in wasting my time accusing him of everything that goes wrong around here. No point in accusing him of kidnapping Lucy Kurtz.”

“We still don’t know anything for sure,” Kendra said.

“I know what my gut is telling me.”

“Why would any of the Bradys want that girl?” Willie asked.

“Not sure,” I said. “Not sure I care to know. But there’s too much pointing to him now to dismiss the idea. This trail we’re standing on, we can follow it both ways. The little trail behind my cabin hooks right into it half a mile out into the woods. Brady would know that better than some outsider. And we can follow it from there right by the end of his driveway. One paved road crossing and then four or five miles of woods. Easy getaway. And we know Lucy’s mother and aunt are users. And Tommy has been dealing with Bow Street bozos. That’s how he got Simon. He’s hosting dealers from Mass. and southern New Hampshire. Helping them distribute through different channels and settings on different weeks. Expanding their market. Moving their product easily out into the little towns. Maybe they’re giving him a little product in exchange for hosting. And he’s turning it over on Bow Street.”

“Guess we shouldn’t be shocked,” Willie said. “Heroin is all over the news.”

I nodded. Looked at Kendra. Asked, “What kind of vehicles did you see here?”

“Trucks and SUVs.”

“You probably didn’t notice the plates.”

“No. I wasn’t looking.”

“But they were all nice rides.”

“Yeah. Escalades. Navigators.”

I said, “Country boys usually drive pickup trucks to keggers in the woods. Older trucks, like Willie’s. Not new Escalades and Navigators. And girls go to regular beer bashes as much as guys. Your friend probably expected to see the country music and Bud Light crowd. She got freaked out because it was something else entirely.”

I looked at Willie. “Tommy’s every bit of the asshole we’ve always known him to be. And more. I’m not surprised at all. Just mad at myself for not putting it together sooner. Mad at myself for giving them a huge advanced warning.”

“What warning?” he asked.

“Yesterday, at the store. I gave Amy some grief for taking down Lucy’s missing flyer. Tommy was right outside in the parking lot.”

“So she went right out and told him.”

“Bet your ass she did. And he started getting cautious. And then today he found the Escalade. Two strikes in less than twenty-four hours. If they have Lucy, they’re nervous as hell now.”

“Maybe the girls owe him money,” Kendra said. “Maybe Lucy really is collateral, like people were whispering last summer.”

“That’s a safe guess,” I said. “You’ve known it all along. Bar gossip beat out a huge investigation.”

She said nothing.

“Shit bags,” Willie grumbled. “We ought to drain the oil out of every piece of equipment in their yard.”

“Might be fun.”

“Please don’t forget Simon,” Kendra said. “I know he’s just a dog, but—”

“I’m not forgetting,” I told her. “He’s not getting away with any of this.”

She nodded in the dark.

“How do we play it now?” Willie asked.

“Same as before,” I said. “I need to sneak up on the place. See what I can find.”

“They might be waiting. Might have cameras.”

“Maybe. But by moving the Escalade they’ve inadvertently warned me to be extra careful. And they’ve shown that they’re nervous about something. Nervous people make mistakes.”

“Or shoot first and ask later.”

I said nothing. Pulled the charging handle on my M4, drawing the first round into the chamber. Flipped the selector to
safe
.

“Hold on,” Kendra said, the voice of reason. “What about your uncle? This thing is really blowing up. Can’t he help us?”

I shook my head. “I’m not getting him involved until I’ve gotten Simon out. That way you’re not attached to any of this.”

“Too late, Evan. I’m right here, attached.”

“What if things go bad? Want to be an accessory to multiple shooting deaths?”

“Would you really take it that far?
Really
?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If I find the slightest hint of a dead kid, they’re all done. All of them. No way are they getting a chance to hide evidence and hire lawyers.”

She said nothing.

“I’ll probably find parts of dead dogs,” I said. “They must go through quite a few. I might find shallow graves in the fields. All sorts of nasty stuff. There’s just no telling till I get out there.”

Kendra took a deep breath and leaned back against the truck’s bedrail.

“Hopefully it won’t be that bad,” Willie said.

“Hopefully,” Kendra chimed. But she didn’t sound very hopeful.

I said, “If Lucy’s there, and alive, then we’ll call Uncle Danny. You can watch the arrest go down from the woods. If she’s not alive, the authorities will be shoveling what’s left of the Bradys into body bags.”

30

We idled along in the truck. Willie kept the lights off and inched along carefully. The truck’s silver hood was just bright enough against the pitch darkness to allow him to maneuver. No one said much. The tension was heavy.

“Close enough,” I said after a while. We were in a fairly wide section of trail with room to open the doors and move around.

“Better safe than sorry,” Willie said.

I stepped out as he cut the engine and Kendra slid out after. We gathered before the truck. I slung my rifle over my shoulder and adjusted the sling. The truck’s exhaust was ticking and the crickets were louder now that we were closer to the fields.

“I’m not a talker,” Willie said. “Good luck is all I’ll say.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

“Can you text me updates?” Kendra asked. “Just put your phone’s brightness way down?”

“I can try,” I said, and took out my phone. Made the adjustments and set it to silent.

“Hell,” Willie groaned. “What if we hear shooting? What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. If I need you, I’ll let you know. Just like at Bensons. And if I don’t come back and don’t respond by phone, call Uncle Danny. Otherwise, just wait for me.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all this,” Kendra said. “Sorry I forgot to lock my car that night.”

“Stop,” I said. “They would’ve smashed the window and taken him anyway. And if I hadn’t been looking for Simon, I wouldn’t have had a lead on Lucy.”

“I guess,” she whispered.

“Hey, you’ve handled this for two weeks like a champ. Hold it together a little longer.”

She nodded.

I turned away and started walking at an easy pace. Didn’t want to say goodbye or anything stupid that would spike my nerves. No “feed Frank for me if I don’t come back” nonsense.

My steps were quiet on the pine needles. I breathed steadily and deeply. The air was cool and invigorating. To my right was all black woods and to my left was a strip of heavy trees bordering the dirt road. Opposite the road was the nearest field. I could just see its dim light.

Straight ahead I saw a small circle of light at the end of the tunnel. The spot where the trail intersected the road and crossed the far field. Then from the road crossing it would hug the outer edge of the field, to my right, and then go back into the trees way up beyond where I would be turning left to approach the house.

I slowed. Turned halfway around and looked back to where I’d come from. If I stared I might be able to see Willie and Kendra and the truck. I could see where I knew them to be more than I could actually see them.

Facing ahead again, I moved on at the same easy rate. Not rushing. Listening. Watching. Being cautious. Paying close attention to my steps. Smooth heel-to-toe steps. Watching for the first hint of a vehicle’s headlights in the dark distance. I didn’t need a car blasting me with headlights as I crossed the road.

When I neared the road I knelt down on one knee and held perfectly still. Held my breath. Listened closely and looked all around. Nothing. No headlights from either direction. No troubling sounds. There was no feeling of being watched. I felt alone. Comfortably and securely alone. There were no lights from the Bradys’ house. A big house. A nice house. Totally dark. There was one dim spotlight in the far corner of the yard, shining over some of the heavy equipment. Nothing else.

Maybe they all went out for a nice dirt bag family dinner.

I raised my M4 and looked through the scope. It made everything green and intensified the smallest amounts of light. I scanned everything slowly from right to left. Watched for movements. Watched for any signs of life. I saw nothing.

I stood up and moved out from the cover of the last few trees. Crossed the open road, trying to keep my footsteps light. There was a gap in the stone wall where the field met the roadside. I was surprised not to see a chain or a cable stretched across the gap, to keep vehicles from entering the field. I passed through the gap, stepping from firm gravel to soft and damp grass. It wasn’t tall grass or hay yet. It was too early in the season.

Pushing straight for the river, I crossed the field as quickly as possible without being loud. Without stomping and stumbling and panting and making myself look like something big trying to get away. I wanted to look like a shadow. A smudge of darkness gliding along smoothly, as when a small cloud slowly passes the moon and its shadow crawls along the ground.

When I reached the river I looked down. Saw the glare of the light of the sky in its surface. It was moving slow and quiet. Black and deep. No rapids in that stretch.

I turned left. Moved up beside a tree trunk and stared at the Bradys’ place. From that new vantage point I still couldn’t detect any lights from the house. None at all. The outline of the exterior was big and light in contrast with the night around it. It was just sitting there looking empty amid all that open space. No lamps glowing by a window. No flicker of a TV. No walkway lights or porch lights. Nothing.

My mind started to work. It was imagination at play, not lucid thoughts. I started to wonder if I’d seriously underestimated the Bradys. Maybe they were in there, watching me on a monitor via security cameras. Baiting the hook by making the place look empty. Setting the trap. Waiting for the rat to take that final step too close. Maybe they were completely prepared for any sort of intrusion. This was their homegrown business. Home and livelihood in one. Everything important to them. They might watch over every inch of their land like hawks.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then repeated. Told myself it was all bullshit and started walking slowly to the house. Hugging the river bank. Creeping along. Checking through my scope now and then. Keeping my breathing steady and controlled. Paying attention to each step. Feeling along with my feet. Listening hard for any sounds above the crickets. I would have welcomed the distant howl of a coyote or the hoot of an owl. But there was nothing at all. I wondered if this was what walking through Chernobyl at night would feel like.

The field finally merged with a big lawn. The grass was cut short. The lawn sloped up gradually to the house from the riverbank. There was a patio area behind the house in line with a big sliding glass door. There was lawn furniture and a wooden swing built into its own little gazebo. It was a nice yard.

I knelt down and held absolutely still and counted to thirty. Listening. Watching.

After thirty I stood and moved to the nearest corner of the house. I pressed my ear to the wall and held my breath. I couldn’t hear a thing. No footsteps or TVs. No voices. There wasn’t as much as a mouse scratching around in a wall.

Slowly I edged along the back wall. Made my way to the center of the house. Turned my hat around backwards and put my forehead about a millimeter from the sliding glass door. I was looking in at a very large kitchen and dining area. There was a big counter separating the kitchen from the dining area. Open concept. Very spacious. The only light I could see came from the digital readouts on the kitchen stove and the microwave.

Where the hell are you people
?

It wasn’t very late. Half past nine at the most.

I moved on to the far end of the house. Ended up behind the attached garage. There was a side door into the garage. The top section was glass and I could see inside. Two bays were empty. The old man’s pickup was the only vehicle inside. The only light came from the small red monitoring lights at the base of the garage doors.

I turned the doorknob. It was unlocked. Not a shocking scenario for a house in the middle of the country. I stepped in and closed the door gently. It seemed very still inside. The walls blunted the sound of fields full of crickets. I moved toward the door leading into the house. It was unlocked. I stepped softly into an entryway devoted to coats and boots and hats and shoes. Wiped the dew from my feet softly on a thick mat. Passed through and entered the side of the kitchen. Moved through that and checked all around the ground floor.

It was a nice house. A big house. The open concept design made it feel even larger than it was. Big windows let in light. It made it easy for me to search without feeling cloistered by multiple doors and tight hallways. The place was built well. The floors felt rock solid. No squeaks and groans. Hardwood and thick tiles. Everything was top quality. Everything was clean and orderly. And it felt thoroughly lifeless.

There was a doorway leading down to a basement. It looked pitch black down there so I decided to go around to the main stairway to the second floor. It was a wide stairway with plush carpeting. I climbed it quietly and easily.

The second floor was darker. One central hallway ran the length with doors opening off into rooms. Some of the doors were open, allowing a faint light, and some were closed. In all there were four bedrooms, one large communal bathroom, and a smaller bath off the master bedroom. Every room had plush carpets, except for small patches of tile by the bathtubs.

I moved around quietly and checked each room with my flashlight on the dimmest possible setting. Each room plainly reflected its occupants. I could tell Tommy’s bedroom from a spare room that didn’t seem lived in at all. The master bedroom was much larger than the rest. And one room was obviously decorated for a young girl. The curtains and bedding were a matching set depicting a Disney princess.

I went out to the hall. Shut off my light and went downstairs. Checked all around for family photos. Almost every photo was of Tommy, at some stage in his life. Everything from baby pictures to more recent portraits taken together with Amy Cutler. There wasn’t a single photo of a little girl. Not one.

Last I checked the basement. It was large and open. Clean and well kept. There was some storage and other typical basement items. A large furnace and a complex water filtration system. Probably to keep the pipes clean for decades to come. Otherwise there was nothing of interest. Nothing suspicious.

I went up the stairs and back out to the attached garage. Stepped out the side door into the concert of crickets and tried to think. Tried to make some sense of everything. I hesitated to jump to the most obvious conclusion. It was right there in front of me. It was an easy leap. But I didn’t dare to trust it. It felt like I’d be taking a long and careless step onto a slippery surface. I’m far from being Mr. Holmes. And I’d played everything wrong with the Bradys so far.

After a minute of thought I started searching the yard. There was plenty of cover to duck behind, equipment and structures. It felt much safer than navigating the open field. The river was on my right, gradually curving away, and all the construction stuff was on my left. I passed Tommy’s fancy Ram truck and picked my way across the yard to the first big garage. There were small spruce trees fanned out behind it and when I got close I found a chain-link pen filling the space between the trees and the rear of the building.

A dog pen.

I opened a door and stepped into the pen. Saw bare ground and signs of digging. Water bowls and food bowls. Little individual kennels built up against the back wall of the garage. But nothing else.

No Lucy.

No dogs.

I went back out and hugged the wall of the garage. Made my way to the front of the building and looked in through one of the little square windows in the big bay door. There were tools and work benches. Huge jacks and massive spare tires. Odd attachments and pieces of equipment I couldn’t even identify. All useful items to the Bradys. Nothing to me. The center of the big bay was empty.

There was a huge grader for smoothing dirt roads parked between the first and second garage. I went around the back of the grader, behind the second garage. Found nothing significant. Then I crept to the front of the second garage and looked in through the little windows on the door. It looked similar to the first on the inside. Except it wasn’t empty.

Off to one side, near the front, I saw a tractor. It was a four-wheel-drive with big rear wheels, smaller front wheels, and a bucket attachment. Like a mini backhoe. It was exactly the right machine for towing a vehicle along a trail. Powerful but compact. At the rear of the space there was a big dark shape.

I moved to the small entry door and turned the knob. Stepped in and closed the door. Made my way to the back. The dark shape was boxy. An SUV. A Cadillac Escalade. I walked all around it. It hadn’t been damaged or disassembled in any way. It was just sitting there. Out of place.

What the hell are you up to, Brady?

I got out my phone and sent Kendra a quick text.
Nothing yet. Hold
.

In less than a minute I received a reply.
OK. Be careful.

For the next minute or two I leaned against the Escalade. Took a drink from my tea bottle and wondered what to do next. Would I be waiting for hours for someone to return home? Were they even planning to return at all? The house was in order. Like it was waiting for their return. Maybe by design. To portray an appearance.

Or not.

There was no way of being certain.

Outside I moved back towards the river. Found a little beach area. Some lawn chairs and a campfire. There was a plastic boat resting in the sand. The sort people peddle around in rather than paddle. Up beside a tree there was a red canoe, a nice Old Town. Between my feet and the peddle boat there was a smooth impression in the sand, as if another boat had recently rested there. There were footprints and small impressions everywhere in the sand. No way of telling how recent they were. I followed the deep impression to the river. Looked across the water. Gave my eyes a moment to focus. There was a dark shape with a light outline on the far shore.