Wolfwraith (28 page)

“And...?”

“This cape is worth a fortune if they build a causeway. It bypasses the major problem, that the federal government would never allow a road through the refuge. If they approached Frank about buying off his family’s old place, he might have figured out what was up. He carried a surveyor’s transit on his bike sometimes; maybe he figured out the causeway angle. I talked to him once, only once, but he was so fired up about keeping people away from the cape, I figure it would really piss him off to think of it becoming a cookie-cutter, high-priced suburb.”

“And he’d kill because of that?” Her brows furrowed. Damn, she didn’t believe him.

“Look, I know I don’t have any evidence, but I think the governor’s chicanery flushed a looney out of the bin.” What would convince her? “Remember how we talked about a motive, if sex wasn’t it? What if he figures nobody will want the park if people are being murdered here?” He had a sudden thought. “Maybe he’s messing up the bodies—the throat mutilation, that is—to make it look like it’s some sort of crazed animal or something. He mentioned the ‘spirits’ were...” He broke off. “Here comes Alex.”

A park truck skidded around the curve past the cottage where Jenny had lived. It barreled toward them.

“Oh, shit!” Shadow cried. He pushed his way out of the truck past Lorene and ran for the road.

Too late. Alex’s truck tires ran right over the bicycle track.

Chapter Twenty-Two

How’d an old man take him?

After a few moments of confusion, cursing and explanation, Lorene asked Alex to guard the crime scene. Soon, Shadow started his truck and he and Lorene were on the way. Moments later, they passed by Jenny’s cottage.

“Which way?” Lorene asked.

“Left.” Shadow spun the steering wheel to take the large truck through the intersection, sliding on the gravel. “The right goes to the E.E.C., no place to hide there, unless he takes the old road south past the cemetery, but it’s all blown sand and he’d never make it on a bike. East, through the woods, leads to the beach. He’d have to carry his bike over the dunes, and then ride out on the hard sand just above the waterline. He’d stand out like a sore thumb.”

Shadow straightened the wheel and hit the gas. The truck bounced wildly as Shadow sped northward. The radio crackled with chatter as more and more searchers joined in. He figured there’d been enough time now, that cops from Virginia Beach should be reaching the park.

Lorene reached up and grabbed a handle, designed for such rugged going, near the roof. “But where would he be going? There’s nothing up this road until False Cape Meadow and then the contact station farther north.”

Shadow turned the radio down. “There’s nothing anywhere in the park, really. The only buildings are at Barbour Hill by the contact station and at Wash Woods. There’s nowhere to hide, so I’m betting he’s going for a boat stashed near the False Cape dock.”

“Okay. But you really think some old codger could be our killer?”

“He may be old, but he’s tough. Besides, he only killed women—Jonesy doesn’t count because his murder wasn’t...”

Lorene interrupted. “It doesn’t wash. Planned or not, the killer managed to do him in. I met Jones. He was a burly guy, looked like he could handle himself. Tough from hard physical labor. How’d an old man take him?”

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “But he had a knife and Jonesy was fucking unarmed.”

Lorene pursed her lips. “Do you even know this old man’s last name?”

“It’s, uh, Water-something.” He thought for a moment. “Waterfield, I’m pretty sure that’s it. He’s...whoa, here comes Slocum.” He jammed on the brakes and pulled as far to the right as he could get.

Steve Slocum also pulled his truck to the edge of the road and slid to a stop alongside, facing the other direction. It was lucky they hadn’t met at a curve and gone head-on.

“I hear the reporter, Helen Parsons, was killed,” he said. “What happened?”

“Later,” Lorene answered brusquely, leaning across Shadow from the passenger seat. “Did you see anyone on a bike?”

“Nope. No one at all.”

She turned to Shadow. “Was there any place he could have turned off?”

“Not unless he got off and carried the bike.”

“How about turn-offs ahead of us?”

“We’ll check them,” Shadow answered, annoyed Lorene always seemed to take charge. She was a different person when she was on the job, no doubt about it. Okay, she had all the training and experience, he had to give her that, but this was his park—familiar territory—and he had a stake in the case now that he had named False Cape Frank as a subject. Besides—and more importantly, his friends were the ones being killed.

He leaned in front of her, blocking her off from Slocum.

“Where are you headed?” he asked.

“I was told to seal off the southern border,” he drawled. “I’m gonna use the ol’ road south from the E.E.C.”

Shadow wondered what it would take to get Slocum to act excited. “Good,” Shadow said. “Let’s...Oh, I just thought of something. If he went that way, he’d leave tracks—that’s soft sand. Look for bike tracks—recent ones—or signs of someone walking alongside a bike. Let’s go.”

“Wait!” Slocum said. “I wanna to hear what happened to the Parsons woman. I saw Helen, threw her bike in the back and give her a ride into the park—never pass up the chance to do a favor for a pretty woman, I always say. I let her off at your place, said she had somebody’s name for you.”

Shadow nodded. “That’s where we found her—lying dead on my front porch.”

“No! Jesus, I left her there. It’s like it was my fault. Fuck! I thought they’d done caught the killer. She was just...just...how the hell could it happen?”

“We’ll talk later.” Shadow cut him off; they were wasting valuable time. “Get down there and make sure no one gets out to the south.”

“We’re looking’ for False Cape Frank?” The other man’s eyes showed skepticism. “So what makes you think...”

“Shadow, let’s go,” Lorene said. “We’re wasting time.”

Shadow turned and looked at her, challenging. “Yes, boss.”

Her eyes grew wide and he saw the anger there. She opened her mouth and began to speak, but then turned away, pointedly not looking at him.

He waved good-bye to the other ranger. He stepped on the gas. They quickly came to the entrance of the False Cape meadow and turned in. The truck bumped across the clearing in a set of twin ruts left by park vehicles over the years. The wheels began to slip on mud left by the recent squall and Shadow shifted into four-wheel-drive. He noticed several startled campers turning to watch, but ignored them. On the other side of the meadow, he took the worn path under the branches. They bounced wildly along the ruts until the truck emerged from the tunnel of trees, sliding to a halt at the base of the False Cape Dock. There was no one there. There were no boats out on the bay.

“Shit!” Lorene slapped her hand on the dash. “He got away.”

“Maybe not,” Shadow said, turning the truck around quickly. “He could have got off the road and still be in the park—in the woods somewhere. We’ll check for sign where he might have left the road.”

“What about the beach?”

“Let someone else check that out. I don’t think he’d go there, he’d leave tracks even Warden Moorcock couldn’t miss.”

“But wouldn’t we have seen a track on the road?” she asked as they bounced back toward the meadow. “There were plenty of patches of sand, washed smooth by the rain; it would have stood out.”

She turned slightly in the seat and faced him. “Are you sure about that tire mark? It was under the tree’s branches, so maybe it could have been an old one, from before the rain.”

“No,” he said. “I’d have known if it was old sign, rain or not but unless we find Frank or another tire mark, I have nothing to physically link him to the crime, no matter how weak. Hell, we don’t have Frank’s bike to compare the tread patterns anyway. I’ve got nothing to base my suspicions on but the words of a dead woman.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

This used to be a town, remember?

When they came back to the road, Shadow pointed the truck’s hood south.

“We’ll go back along the road—slowly this time,” he said. “You watch your side and I’ll watch mine. Look for any sign where he might have left the road.”

“Wouldn’t he be much more likely to leave the road on my side? He’d hole up in the woods; there’s nowhere to hide in the dunes.”

“No,” Shadow said. “Maybe not. He couldn’t get very far in the woods carrying a bike—it’s too thick. There are plenty of hiding places in the dunes: old roofing sections, rusted car hulks, all sorts of things half buried in the sand. This used to be a town, remember?”

Shadow rolled his window down and leaned out, watching for tracks. They hadn’t gone far when he heard the throbbing sound of a helicopter in the distance. It grew louder and then a police helicopter sped by overhead.

“I’m sure glad they’re here,” Lorene said. “If he’s in the dunes, they’ll see him, right?”

“Let’s hope so,” Shadow answered. “But this guy knows the park like a kid knows his back yard. That chopper engine is loud. He’ll go to cover.”

Lorene sighed. “He may not even be in the dunes.” She reached over and put her hand on his arm. It was not remotely like how she had touched him earlier, in the boathouse. This was a grab, as though she could shake a solution out of him. “You know this park, Shadow; I’ve only been through it a couple of times. Where would he go?”

He pulled his arm away. “Hell, I have no idea. He could have...”

“False Cape Two to False Cape Six.” The radio interrupted them.

Lorene made a move for the microphone, but Shadow grabbed it first. She might be the high and mighty F.B.I., but this was still his truck. “Six,” he said. “Go ahead.”

“Detective Ericsson is at the latest crime site. He wants you and Agent Walker to fill him in since you got there right after.”

Ericsson? Already? He must have been in Sandbridge to be here so quickly—or had he come in on the chopper?

“Ask him to wait,” Shadow protested. “We’re still looking for this guy, Alex. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

“I know that, but we’ve got people pouring into the park from every government organization you can shake a stick at. They’ll pick up the search. I need you back at Wash Woods, right away.”

“Ten-four.” Shadow put the mike back on the dash and glanced over at Lorene, who shrugged.

“I think he gave us the slip,” she said. “Whether it was the old guy you think or somebody else, he’s screwed us again.”

“You think?”

“Hell, yes, I think! He’s gone.”

“No, he’s not,” Shadow said. “He’s still in the park somewhere.”

“Damn it, that’s all I hear. ‘He’s on a bike, he’s using a boat, he’s hiding under a tree, or maybe a barn roof.’ Where the hell do you think he is, if he’s still in the park?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But in spite of what you think, he’s here.”

Lorene said no more, drumming her fingers on her knees impatiently.

Detective Ericsson awaited them on the road when they arrived. In Shadow’s yard, a team of investigators moved cautiously toward the body, examining every inch of sandy soil as they literally crept forward on hands and knees. Walking up to Shadow’s truck, he nodded recognition. “Hello, Agent Walker. You, too, Ranger.”

The asshole doesn’t even remember my name, thought Shadow, but he was wrong.

“We really need your help on this one, Fletcher,” the detective continued. “You knew this woman?”

“She was a reporter.” Shadow didn’t want to tell Ericsson too much. He didn’t like the guy.

“You two were together when you found her?” Ericsson looked across to Lorene.

Shadow wondered if the detective was, once again, looking to see if Shadow’d had the opportunity to kill. He felt his face begin to heat up.

“Yes, we were together,” Lorene said. “All morning, in fact.”

Was there disappointment on Ericsson’s face? Shadow decided he’d had enough. “Look, Detective,” he said. “Let’s not get on that track again. The only reason I happen to be around all these murders is because I live here in the park. Quit trying to find out if I have an alibi.”

Ericsson didn’t seem to mind the challenge. He said, smoothly, “I need to check all the angles. And you weren’t just ‘close’ to this murder; it happened on your front porch.”

Shadow looked him dead in the eyes. “Well, we sure as hell know it wasn’t the guy you already arrested, was it? And a real, genuine, honest-to-God F.B.I. agent just told you it wasn’t me, so why don’t you concentrate on finding the real killer and leave me the fuck alone?”

Ericsson acted as if he hadn’t spoken. “Your boss said you think you might know who did it. He filled me in on this False Cape Frank as you call him, but doesn’t seem to think the old man could be a suspect.”

“He sure the hell could! If he figured out what the governor is doing, he...”

“The governor?” Ericsson leaned close. “What in the world are you talking about?”

Shadow abruptly realized he was about to accuse the governor and the park commissioner of...what? Fraud? Conspiracy? By naming False Cape Frank, he had begun walking along a slippery slope. He’d made an accusation and would have to back it up. He’d based his guess on the killer’s identity partly on Helen’s information. Yet Shadow had no idea what evidence she had uncovered, or where it might be. He had nothing to back up his allegations except the word of a dead woman.