The Only One Left

by Pamela Beason

  She gave him a weak smile, her lips trembling. Her whole body was trembling. Was that the result of being electrocuted or being raped? A shameful wetness trickled from her vagina onto the quilt between her legs. Her blood, or his semen?

  “Don’t try anything.” Dusty aimed the stun gun at her as he backed toward the door.

  With a quivering hand, she pulled the quilt over herself to hide her nakedness. The door closed, and she dared to take a shuddering breath.

  Then she startled as his hand slid back inside the door. He grabbed the flashlight from the floor and deposited a paper bag and a can of Coke into her cell. “See? If you’re sweet, you get a reward.”

  The lock clicked.

  Lying in the dark, with the pain burning between her legs, Mia felt as if she’d been sanded inside. No, branded, that was a better description, branded with a red hot poker, like a piece of livestock.

  After what might have been ten minutes or two hours, her hunger and thirst overcame the pain. She pushed herself to her feet and pulled her clothes back on. Sitting on the bed, she wolfed the cold burger and fries and gulped the Coke in the dim room. Her brain felt numb, and she was almost grateful he’d brought her food and drink. Almost. Tears streaked her cheeks at the wrongness of it all.

  She choked down the last swallow of lukewarm cola. There was a fruit turnover in the bag, too. She’d save that for later. Who knew when he’d be back? But she knew he would be.

  She’d wanted to lose her cherry, and now she had. She was no longer a virgin.

  She was a piece of meat. A rape victim.

  Damn Dusty to hell for making her a victim.

  So it hurt. It still hurt. She’d battled her way through pain before, after the wreck. And she’d been only five, then. She fingered the scar on her arm.

  She couldn’t let Dusty win. He couldn’t take her soul.

  No, she wasn’t going to lie back and be a prey animal, begging for the mercy of a predator. She wasn’t going to be a timid victim. She was a rape survivor, and she would find a way to be strong, even if it killed her.

  Tremors overtook her body again, and she was angry that she couldn’t control the shaking. She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. It was so unfair. She’d wanted to meet a hot guy, have romantic, passionate sex with multiple orgasms, like in the books. Instead, she’d been kidnapped by a sadistic rapist.

  “Be sweet to you, Dusty?” She squinted her eyes at the locked door. “Not on your life.”

  Taking a deep breath, she went back to the table, flipped it, and worked on the legs some more. By the time it was so dark that she could no longer see anything in the room, she was drenched in sweat and two table legs were so wobbly that she was reasonably sure she could break off at least one of them tomorrow.

  She might not get out of this stupid horse barn alive, and maybe she didn’t even deserve to, but at least she’d go down fighting.

  Chapter 14

  Tuesday

  According to the records Miki had sent him via email from the station, Cooper Trigg was twenty-two, and in the last three years he’d accumulated quite a rap sheet, including B and E, a couple of DUIs, car theft, and two assault charges, the most recent only three months ago, and that one on a girl of nineteen. The kid currently had a bench warrant due to failure to appear in court. Finn could easily believe that he was also a stalker. But according to the mothers, the girls probably didn’t know Cooper, or at least, they didn’t know his reputation.

  The driver’s license photo for Trigg showed a youth with dark hair and a soul patch, very different in appearance from the boy Robin had named on the video. The license was three years old, though. The eyes and earring were similar, and boys used hair color nearly as often as girls did these days.

  He called the phone number listed for Trigg’s address in Moses Lake at the time of the kid’s last booking. A tremulous female voice answered, “Taylor residence.”

  After identifying himself, he asked to speak to Cooper Trigg.

  There was a slight hesitation, and then the woman exclaimed, “Oh lordy, what trouble has that boy gotten himself into now?”

  “I don’t know that’s he’s in trouble, ma’am. To whom am I speaking?”

  “Dorothy Taylor. I’m Cooper’s grandma.”

  “Cooper may have information about a missing persons case I’m working on.”

  He heard a quick intake of breath. “The two girls from the Gorge?”

  “May I please speak to Cooper?”

  “I’d certainly let you if I could, Detective. But I haven’t seen that boy since Christmas, and I’m not sure I want to again until he straightens himself out. I’ve had no end of trouble since he listed my address the last time he was arrested.”

  “Do you have any idea where he might be? Do you know any of his friends?”

  When Dorothy’s answer was no to both questions, he gritted his teeth. “Do you have a phone number for him?”

  She rattled one off, then said, “But it’s no good now. I tried to call him after the last time the police were here, and the recording said it was disconnected.”

  “Does Cooper own a vehicle, ma’am?”

  “Oh, who knows?” she said. “That boy is driving something different every time I see him—cars, motorcycles, you name it. I don’t know where he gets them all from.”

  Finn had a pretty good idea where Cooper got them—from friends, neighbors, anyone who was foolish enough to leave a key lying around. He thanked her and hung up. He’d get a Moses Lake officer to verify that Cooper Trigg was not living at the Taylor residence, but it sounded like Dorothy was telling the truth.

  He checked the latest arrest report again. The car Trigg had been driving for his DUIs was an old beater that was not registered to him, and there was no insurance. The police report noted that the car was likely a total loss after a collision with a tree. He’d have to check on the registered owner’s name, but he was already willing to bet that Trigg had “borrowed” the car, or at best, paid a few hundred bucks in cash to the previous owner and then never bothered to record the transaction.

  Cooper Trigg was in the wind. Finn would post a report to get all agencies to search for Trigg as soon as he got back to the office, but without a current vehicle description, he wasn’t particularly hopeful. It was much easier to match a car than locate a young man who didn’t want to be found.

  The parents eagerly awaited the six o’clock news from Spokane in the administration trailer, but they seemed even more anxious and depressed after viewing the report. Seeing the girls’ photos on the television screen drove home the reality that their daughters were “out there” somewhere, that anyone might have them, that anything could have happened to Mia and Darcy.

  The day was quickly giving way to evening, so Finn filled in the parents on what he’d found, or more accurately, not found, and then told the Irelands and Valdezes to call it a night, go get something to eat and some sleep. Their faces were drawn; each of them looked twenty years older than when he’d first met them. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like to have your child remain missing for another day.

  After verifying that Deputy Wilder would stay overnight, he followed the parents to the exit. Deciding his next move was to locate other campers from the festival, he drove toward his office. It was going to be a long night, working his way through the list that Vaughn had given him.

  He called Grace on the way to excuse himself yet again from another evening with her. “Did you have fun last night?”

  “Definitely. Tony got his buddy Tom to come dancing with us after dinner. I hadn’t danced for years!”

  Finn was glad she couldn’t see his expression. Tony Zyrnek was an interesting, charming guy and a painting buddy of Finn’s, and Tony’s son Jon Zyrnek, nicknamed Z, had been Grace’s most dependable staff member for a couple of years. But Tony was also an ex-con, albeit currently on the straight and narrow. Was this Tom a parolee, too? He didn’t like to think of Grace in this guy’
s arms, whoever he was. “I wish I could have been there.”

  “Me too, Matt. And now I have these bones for you.”

  “Bones? As in plural?”

  “Kanoni gave me two. I’ve inspected the entire gorilla enclosure, and I can’t find anywhere they’ve been digging. Neema says up and bird, so my best guess is that a crow brought these in. I’ll try to find the time tomorrow to have a look around the forest nearby. Can you come and help?”

  “I’m still tied up with these missing girls.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Their parents must be frantic.”

  The anguished faces of the Irelands and the Valdezes swam up through his thoughts. “Yeah.”

  “Want to come by tomorrow and get these bones?”

  “I have to meet an FBI agent at nine a.m. in the office, but then I’ll go back to the Gorge. Will you be around about ten a.m. or so?”

  “I’m always around these days, Finn,” she complained. “You know I’ve only got Z here part-time now, and I never know if any of the others will show up or not.”

  “I’ll keep my feelers out to find you some volunteers. I’ll drop by tomorrow morning and pick up those bones, okay?” The silence hung between them for a minute. Then he asked, “What have you been up to today?”

  “The gorillas were bored, so I blew up a kiddie pool and filled it with water in the barn. You’ve got to see the video! All three of them were wary at first, but then Kanoni galloped over and gave it a good whack, and soon all of them were playing in it and dipping all their toys in. I worked at teaching them the sign for swimming. I think Neema has already got it, and Kanoni and Gumu will soon, too.”

  “Do they already know the sign for pool?”

  “No. There’s really no sign for pool, just finger spelling, and you know they can’t do that. Neema called it a ‘water spot,’ which is pretty descriptive, I think.”

  “Smart gorilla.” It always amazed him how that ape could put together signs to describe things she’d seen. “Tree candy” for lollipop. “Skin bracelet” had been one of Neema’s more creative descriptions when she didn’t have a sign for a wrist tattoo. When signing about Gumu, Neema called the silverback Big Big Gorilla.

  “It’s way past dinner, but do you have time for a glass of wine?”

  “I wish.” He sighed heavily. “I’m on my way to the station. More paperwork and phone calls.”

  There was a pause, then she said, “I guess we’re both prisoners of our jobs right now.”

  “Seems like it. With luck, Agent Foster will help get this resolved sooner. As I recall, she’s very efficient.”

  The hesitation on the other end of the connection told Finn that Grace had registered that the agent was female. Surely she wasn’t jealous? He quickly added, “Sweetheart, I will stop at your place tomorrow before heading out again. I’ll get those bones then.”

  “See you tomorrow, then. Night, Matt.”

  It was all so . . . unsatisfactory. Especially since he wasn’t even headed home to sleep, but just into the station to pull another long evening. He knew he’d be there for at least a couple of hours. His stomach growled to remind him that he hadn’t eaten since the breakfast burrito.

  He passed three more flyers on his way back to Evansburg. The Irelands and Valdezes must have been up all night posting them everywhere. The faces of those girls would be burned into his dreams tonight. Assuming he ever got to sleep at all.

  * * * * *

  As he walked toward his desk, he noticed his voicemail message light blinking. The mechanical voice told him he had seven messages. All of them were from reporters. As soon as he heard them mention their news stations, he quickly deleted the message.

  Across the room, Detective Melendez said into her phone, “All right. Halt all the work. I’ll be there in half an hour, maybe sooner.” She put the receiver back into its cradle, puffed up her cheeks, and then blew out a slow breath. “Oh boy. Oh crap. Damn it! Why me? Shit!”

  “What’s up?” Finn asked.

  She pushed a hand through her short chestnut hair, sweeping it back from her brow. “A crew was bulldozing the ruins of the Rodale barn, you know, the first one burned. The blade scraped up some of the dirt floor.”

  “And?”

  “The blade crunched into a human skull.” She reached for the jacket hanging from the back of her chair. “Shit. I was really hoping to get home at a reasonable hour tonight. My husband’s going to shoot me, and pretty soon my kids won’t even recognize me. And now I have to call Rodrigo back in.”

  “He’s the one who’s likely to shoot you.” Finn’s brain flashed on the two bones the gorillas had found. Was it a local habit to bury bodies in the dirt floor of a barn? Sooner or later he’d have to get a cadaver dog, or maybe ground penetrating radar out to Grace’s area. Shit, indeed. “Any idea who the skull belongs to?”

  Sara shook her head. “Nope. Could be from a long time ago, and—oh sweet Jesus—please don’t make this a discovery of an Indian graveyard or something. You know what a can of worms that could open up.” She groaned. “I’ll see if Miki can put together a list of missing people from this area for the last twenty years.”

  “I’ll get her on that,” Finn volunteered.

  She glanced at him, surprised.

  “Might be useful to me, too.”

  “Thanks, Finn.”

  “Oh, and an FBI agent is coming here tomorrow. Just in case this is a kidnapping. Special Agent Alice Foster—remember her from the Ivy Morgan case?”

  “Of course I remember her. Lucky you. Can Foster help with these arsons, too?” Melendez ran her fingers through her hair again, then shook her head. “I suppose not. She can use Kat’s desk.” She indicated Detective Larson’s area with a jerk of her chin. Wearily, she pushed herself to her feet. “Guess I’ll go check out this skull.” Sliding her arms into her jacket sleeves, she strode toward the door.

  She was back in less than a minute. Sticking her head through the doorway, she said, “Reporters at the front door.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” he said.

  Melendez headed toward the back door of the station.

  * * * * *

  It was ten p.m. when Finn got to the last name on his list of festival attendees who had rented campsites immediately bordering the one occupied by Mia Valdez and Darcy Ireland. The name on the rental list was Grant Dekoster. Finn apologized for calling so late and explained what he was after.

  “Of course I remember those girls,” Dekoster said. “They were hot. Especially the little blonde.”

  Finn winced at the guy’s tone. “They are seventeen.”

  There was a long pause. “I didn’t know teenagers could get in.” Then, after a few seconds more of silence, “Shit. I heard someone talking about a news story of two women missing after the festival. Those girls are missing?”

  “Afraid so.” Finn pulled the phone away from his mouth as he yawned.

  “I knew those girls were going to get into trouble. They could have partied with us in the campground. They never should have gone off with those motorcycle riders.”

  Finn’s fatigue drained away like a plug had been pulled. “What motorcycle riders?” He picked up his pen, hovering it over his notepad.

  “Two young guys in leather on bikes. Darcy and Mia went off with them.”

  Thinking of the young men in the video with the girls, Finn asked, “Did one of the guys have earplugs or an earring?”

  “Wouldn’t know, man. When I saw ’em, they both had helmets on.”

  “Can you describe their clothing? Their motorcycles?”

  “Man, I don’t know bikes. They were like, one red, one blue. And like I said,” Dekoster reminded him, “they were wearing black leather jackets and leggings. The back of their jackets had a weird symbol: a possum, belly up.”

  Finn wrote it down.

  “And there was a name, too. Roadkill Riders. Does that help?”

  “You possibly just gave me the first real clue of the day,
Mr. Dekoster,” Finn told him. “Thank you. You have my number if you think of anything else.”

  * * * * *

  According to Google, Roadkill Riders was, unfortunately, a Meetup group. Which meant the members signed up online to meet up in person for—as the site advertised—Adventures! On Wheels! Each ride was posted, then people signed up to meet at the starting point. We don’t care who you are or where you come from. Pick a rider name for yourself, and let’s go! We’re all about having FUN.

  The organizer was listed as a woman with the email name Starling. In her photo, Starling was a bleached blonde with weathered skin, lots of wrinkles, and a big toothy smile. She was holding a motorcycle helmet under one arm. With no other way of contacting Starling for now, he emailed her.

  He left instructions for Miki, asking her to come up ASAP with a list of missing females in this area that went back twenty years. And then, remembering how Deputy Wilder had mentioned Todd Sutter, he asked for information on that case, too.

  The clock read 11:57 p.m. when he left the station. He hoped he would have a lead on Cooper Trigg and Roadkill Riders by the time Agent Foster showed up in the morning. And he fervently hoped he’d have something to report to the parents when he met them again tomorrow.

  Lok and Kee and Cargo were at first resentful about his neglect of proper pet ownership duties, but after each was fed and stroked and apologized to, all three showed their forgiveness by using him as a heating pad for the rest of the night. Sleep was a long time coming, and when he finally slipped into it, he dreamed that a skeleton turned up in Grace’s barn, and it belonged to Darcy Ireland.

  In the dream, Grace’s response was, “Well, what did you expect?” As if he should have been able to predict that.

  He woke up in the morning with his jaws aching from grinding his teeth all night.

  Chapter 15

  Wednesday

  Agent Alice Foster was more attractive than Finn remembered. His recall of her from three years ago was a polite but stiff woman in a gray pantsuit who was determined to do everything by the book. Today, her brown hair was not clipped back into her previous severe style but swung freely in a shining, chin-length bob. She wore a blue tailored blouse over white slacks and a tan jacket pulled over the pistol holstered at her waist.