Shadow Dragon (14 page)

She turned and marched away, leaving him to stand alone at the front of the church. Now he felt like a complete asshole.

The final insult came as he started back down the aisle toward the door. When he stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, he found he had forgotten to return her pen.

CHAPTER 30

As Kyle walked down the aisle toward the exit, a shrill chirping emanated from inside his coat. It sounded unnaturally loud and horribly out of place in the sanctuary. He scrambled to pull his cell phone from his pocket. He had forgotten he had left it on. He was just glad it hadn’t gone off during the service.

He looked at the display. It was Lewis. “Hey, what’s up?” he answered.

“Where are you?”

“At the church. Why?”

Lewis spoke to someone in the background. There was a muffled reply in a deep voice that sounded like the sheriff’s.

“Okay,” Lewis said into the phone. “Stay there. Meet us out front. We’re on our way.”

“All right, what’s up?”

“We’re on our way back to Tucker’s place. I’ll explain the rest on the way.” Lewis hung up without waiting for a reply, but Kyle knew from the sound of his voice that something big had come up.

Hardly two minutes later, a pair of county Yukons roared up in front of the church, lights flashing. The back door was flung open, revealing Agent Marasco on the far side. Kyle suppressed a smile as he noticed that Lewis was in the front passenger seat while Deputy Johnson drove. Kyle hurried over and climbed in. They took off as he slammed the door behind him.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Lewis tossed Kyle’s overnight bag to him. “You’ll probably want to change.” Inside were his jeans, a long-sleeved blue T-shirt with the FBI logo on the breast, and his hiking boots. As he began shucking out of his clothes, Lewis filled him in.

“The forensic report came back from the Joneses’ place,” he said. “The lab was able to positively identify two different blood types at the crime scene. Both the blood on the floor and on the stairs matched that of Bill and Audrey, who are both type O, but blood on the log that was thrown through the window was type B, which is found in only about 10 percent of the population.”

“So we’ve got a sample of the killer’s blood,” Kyle said excitedly.

“Looks like,” Lewis said. “But it gets better. The lab checked it against Carrie’s and her ex-boyfriend’s type for a match, and it turned up negative. Carrie’s type A, and her ex is type O. But guess who
is
type B.”

“Tucker?”

“You got it, cowboy.”

“Are we sure it’s his?” Kyle asked as he pulled the T-shirt over his head.

“Not positive yet. We know his type from his medical records. Since there was no type-B blood found at the first murder scene and since we didn’t identify any at his place, there wasn’t sufficient evidence for a blood sample the first time we took him in. But the fact that he’s type B and we’ve got type B on the log narrows it down a hell of a lot. We’ve got enough now to take him in and get a sample of his blood for DNA testing.”

Kyle nodded. It was the most telling piece of evidence they had been able to gather so far, but along with it came the possibility that it might be Tucker’s. They had had him in custody and let him go because of insufficient evidence, and by doing so, they may have set him free to kill the Joneses. Kyle knew that if that turned out to be the case, the media would crucify them in spite of the fact that they had been acting within the limits of the law. But worse than that was the thought of facing Carrie Daniels and trying to explain to her how they had let her grandparents’ killer go free.

*

Hazy light filtered into the shack as Kyle and Lewis stepped inside. To the left beneath the window was the small, rusting sink. A metal plate and a fork sat in a couple of inches of water that had frozen solid. The rickety table and chairs still sat in the middle of the room. Behind it in the fireplace were the charred remains of a log gone cold. On the rack above the mantle, the M16 with the bayonet was missing.

“Looks like he bolted,” said Marasco.

“Shit,” Lewis muttered.

Across the small room, Clayton pushed the door to the curing shed open.

Zzzhing!

Everyone jumped as a thick chain that had been hanging from the ceiling slipped over a beam and rattled to the floor. As he looked into the room Kyle noticed that one of the carcasses hanging from the rafters when they had searched the place the first time was gone.

They searched the room again. The disgusting array of steel traps, rusted cans, chains, hooks, and hacksaws remained as before, as well as the large, finely honed knife with bleached bone handle that had been left on the workbench.

Kyle looked at the rafters where the chain had fallen. Something about the missing carcass bothered him. With the truck still parked beside the cabin, it appeared Tucker had fled on foot. It seemed crazy, but Tucker was, if nothing else, a mountain man and a survivor. But if he had fled into the mountains, what had he done with the carcass hanging in the shed? It didn’t seem likely that he would have taken the thing with him, even if he had a sled. Wouldn’t he have just cut the meat from the bones to reduce the weight? Then he remembered the garbage pit out back and decided to check it out.

The sheriff was just stepping into the shack as Kyle left the curing shed. The sheriff had to duck his head as he entered, and the room seemed suddenly cramped. Kyle squeezed past and told Lewis he was going to look around back.

Outside, Davidson and one of his assistants were making their way toward the cabin, the assistant lugging the heavy forensics case.

Around back, Kyle found the garbage pit—or what was left of it—covered with patches of snow and dirty ice. It had been scattered during their search when they had collected the charred bones. He picked up a small stick and poked around at the pit but saw nothing that appeared to be new amid the garbage and certainly nothing as large as the remains of the carcass he had seen hanging from the ceiling of the shed.

Kyle tossed the stick away and started back around to the front of the cabin. He was just coming around the corner when he was once again struck by the unnatural quiet of the forest. As he stopped to listen, he noticed that Sheriff Greyhawk had stepped back outside and was standing in front of the cabin. He stood there motionless, his head tilted forward slightly, staring into the woods with a look reminiscent of the one he had had at the Joneses’ cabin.

Something at the edge of the porch had caught the sheriff’s attention. He knelt down and picked up a clump of matted dog fur that had caught on a nail and was fluttering in the breeze. Curious, Kyle stepped back and peered around the edge of the shack. The sheriff was standing with his eyes closed, the clump of fur held to his nose like a bloodhound trying to pick up the scent, or was it more like someone savoring the scent of his lover’s perfume?

Kyle watched, curious of the enigma that was George Greyhawk. Most of the time, he seemed like an ordinary man, strong and quiet, but nothing too far out of the norm. But then at other times, he seemed unlike any man Kyle had ever known. It was as if he could hear and see and sense things that others couldn’t. Kyle couldn’t help but wonder what was going on with him. Did he know something more than he was letting on, or was he just as confused as they were?

“You find anything?” Lewis asked, breaking the eerie silence as he stepped out front.

The sheriff shook his head. “No,” he said, letting the fur drift away on the breeze.

“It looks as if he may have taken off on foot, assuming someone else didn’t come and pick him up,” Lewis said. “How long before we can have a party of search dogs here?”

“It will have to wait until morning,” the sheriff replied without taking his eyes off the trees. “It will be dark soon. It is not safe to be in these woods after dark.”

CHAPTER 31

Despite the cold, Carrie Daniels was standing outside in the loading and unloading zone of Glacier Park International Airport when Kyle pulled up in Marasco’s Expedition. He had called her that morning to inform her that her grandparents’ property, including the Hummer, had been released to her. To Kyle’s surprise, she had asked him if he could help her with the return of her rental car and by giving her a ride to the cabin to pick up the H2. Kyle had said he would be glad to help.

“I appreciate you doing this for me,” she said, looking out the windshield as they pulled away. “I … I didn’t know who else to call.”

“No problem,” Kyle said. “That’s what I’m here for.” He knew she was going through an incredibly difficult time. One of the most common feelings shared by victims after the sudden loss of a loved one was a sense of intense isolation and loneliness, even when they were still surrounded by other family. But in Carrie’s case, there was no one else. The grieving process was likely to be a long and arduous one for her, and it was his job to help her through it as much as possible.

“I … I also want to apologize for my behavior at the funeral the other day,” she said. “I was upset, but that’s no excuse. I was rude, and I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” said Kyle.

“Yes, there is. It was kind of you to come.”

They pulled out of the airport, and Kyle turned left onto Highway 2, which headed north toward Hungry Horse.

“Oh, before I forget again,” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver Mont Blanc.

“Oh, my God,” she gasped. “Where did you find that?”

“It fell out of your purse when you were at the station the first time. I meant to give it to you at the funeral the other day, but—”

“I had no idea it was missing,” she said, grabbing it and clutching it against her chest. “You have no idea what this pen means to me.” She looked over at him for the first time. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Kyle nodded. “By the way, as far as we can tell, your ex-boyfriend didn’t have anything to do with your grandparents. He was in Denver the whole time, and we haven’t found any evidence that he hired someone else to do it.”

“Oh, okay,” Carrie said and looked out the passenger window. Just the mention of her ex seemed to make her uncomfortable.

“And just so you know, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him bothering you anymore. The two special agents that showed up at his door made it quite clear that there would be serious consequences if he continues to harass you.”

Carrie nodded, quietly thanking him without looking away from the window as if embarrassed by the situation.

They continued on in silence then, and Kyle left her alone with her thoughts. After a while, he turned on the radio and set it at a low volume so the silence wouldn’t seem quite so oppressive.

A short time later, Carrie sniffed and wiped at her eye with the sleeve of her sweater. “Sorry I’m not very talkative.”

“No, its fine,” Kyle said. “I understand.”

“You must get pretty tired of dealing with people like me,” she said, idly running her finger through the fog that had formed in the bottom corner of the window.

“Not really,” said Kyle. “At least not like you might think. I do get tired of it, but only from the standpoint that I wish there was some way to prevent bad things from happening to good people—like your grandparents—but I can’t. No one can. I mean, we can try to prevent it, but no one can stop all the evil in the world, so … well, I try to do what I can to try to help those left behind.” Kyle had wanted to explain it in a way that she would understand, but instead, he wound up feeling like a babbling idiot. “I don’t guess that made any sense, did it?”

Whether it did or not, she was kind enough to nod and say, “Yeah, it did … actually.”

A few miles farther down the road, Carrie asked, “So how did you get into doing this?”

Kyle looked over at her. “You don’t have to try to make conversation if you don’t feel like it. I understand if you just want to be left alone.”

“No, I don’t,” she said. “We’ve still got a ways to go, and it helps me keep my mind off … you know.”

“All right,” said Kyle, “But if I’m boring you, just let me know, and I’ll shut up.”

She smiled then and said, “I promise.”

“When I was young, my father was away on business all the time, and my mother spent most of her time at the country club, so I was basically raised by my nanny, Valeria Sanchez. When I was little, I couldn’t pronounce her name. It came out sounding something like ‘Miss Vera,’” he said with a childlike lisp. “And I guess it just stuck. I’ve called her Miss Vera for as long as I can remember. Still do in fact,” he admitted with a slightly embarrassed smile. “She’s a sweet lady. She still takes care of my mother’s house.

“Anyway, when I was nine years old, Miss Vera’s son, Roberto—who was only fifteen—was killed in a convenience store robbery. He worked there after school, helping to stock the shelves, sweeping up, that sort of thing. He was working there one evening when two men came in and robbed the place. No one ever knew exactly what happened—the place only had one camera looking at the register—but the man behind the counter and Roberto were both killed, all for $137 and a couple of cartons of cigarettes. I was at home with Miss Vera when the police came to tell her about her son. It was awful. I can still remember how she wailed and collapsed in the foyer.”

Kyle paused and glanced over in Carrie’s direction. He hoped the story wasn’t upsetting her more than she already was, but he thought it was important for her to hear it. She was sitting quietly and staring out the window at the mountains now looming before them.

“Afterward, Miss Vera changed,” he continued. “Roberto was the only family she had. Roberto’s father had never been around. He left them when Roberto was just a baby. I think he was a drunk. Anyway, for the longest time afterward, Miss Vera seemed to be like a zombie, just going through the motions day after day. It was as if the will to live had simply gone out of her. Sometimes, when she looked at me, she would start to cry. At the time, I didn’t know why. I thought maybe it was something I had done. I wanted nothing more in the world than for her to feel better, but no matter what I tried, I just couldn’t seem to make her happy again.

“It wasn’t until my father died when I was thirteen that I realized what she had been going through.” Carrie looked over at him then, perhaps in sympathy or commiseration, but she didn’t say anything. “I guess my mother had always been an alcoholic and was probably into drugs too, but it got worse after Dad died. She was always gone, or else she was up all night and asleep during the day. It was like she wasn’t even there. I started to get into trouble at school then, hanging out with the wrong crowd. We would skip class and go get stoned in the alley across the street. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was desperate for attention. Fortunately, one of the teachers caught us. They threatened to expel me, and in order to avoid it, I was forced to start going to a counselor after school three days a week. My mother, Janet, wouldn’t ever take me. Miss Vera always had to do it. The counselor’s name was Mrs. Campbell, and she helped me a lot. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know what would have happened to me. Anyway, each day after my sessions during the drive home, Miss Vera and I would talk about what Mrs. Campbell had told me and how it was helping me to deal with the loss of my father. Maybe it was just because enough time had passed or because she finally had someone to talk to about it, but I think it helped Miss Vera with the loss of her son too.

“Janet had always wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer when I grew up, but after that, I realized that I wanted to be able to help people like Mrs. Campbell had helped Miss Vera and me.”

It wasn’t until Kyle finished that he realized how long he had been talking. They had already passed through the tiny burg of Hungry Horse and were on the road nearing the dam. He hadn’t meant to go on for so long, but once he had started, it had just come out. He told himself it was because he wanted Carrie to know that he had been through similar difficulties and therefore might be better able to understand her situation and help her through it, but he realized it was more than that. It had been so long since he had had someone close to talk with that he had unconsciously taken advantage of the situation for his own benefit.

“Sorry if I got a little carried away there.”

“No, don’t be,” Carrie said quietly. “I’m glad you did.”

They crossed over the dam in silence. To their left, the glimmering water stretched away into the distance, its placid surface belying the incredible pressure that continued to build as the water rose with the spring thaw.