The Bear

by Dustin Stevens

  Pressing his palms into his thighs, Reed rose to full height. He cast his focus over the barren counters and the table nearby, seeing not a single shred of mail or any personal effects that might hint at an identity.

  “We need a name,” Reed said, shifting his gaze to look at Martin. “We’ve got a phone number, and a bunch of fake businesses, but this farm is too big and too nice for it to all be made up.”

  They’d gotten lucky being able to use the cellphone trace, but they couldn’t expect it to happen again.

  It was time to garner something concrete.

  “Right,” Martin agreed.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Reed felt his chest expand before slowly pushing it out. Willing the adrenaline to subside even a bit, his mounting anger to abate, he tried to push past the excitement of a moment before, focusing on what was now before them.

  Under any conceivable definition, they had probable cause to be inside. A phone trace for numbers with direct connections to the victims had led them to this address. Signs of forced entry or a struggle had given them reason to enter.

  He might be well beyond the bounds of his jurisdiction, and technically on leave, but he couldn’t imagine anybody saying a word about Martin being there.

  Meaning even though the house was empty, there was still plenty to be gleaned.

  “And we need to search the grounds,” Reed added.

  Once more, Martin grunted, seeming to be in agreement. “You still think she’s here?”

  Taking a step away from the mess on the floor, Reed spread the fingers of his left hand wide. Allowing them to graze the thick fur atop Billie’s head, he moved past her, his running shoes squeaking slightly against the tile floor as he passed from the kitchen into the living room.

  And made it no more than a single step from tile to carpet before pulling up, the air seizing in his lungs.

  “Without a doubt.”

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Thad Martin was still standing in front of the portrait hanging on the living room wall as Reed walked back into the house. Carrying the plastic bag that he had gotten from Maisie Gipson the day before, he circled through the kitchen and into the living room, peeling apart the gripper seal along the top as he went.

  Nowhere near as optimal as an evidence bag, he had to trust that the scent on the T-shirt hadn’t been contaminated with anything else, allowing Billie to get a clean hit.

  Like most things throughout the last couple of days, they were making do with what they had.

  “I can’t believe this,” Martin said, his feet planted as he stared at the photo. “It’s uncanny.”

  And it was.

  The young woman in the portrait on the wall wasn’t Serena Gipson. Or Darcy Thornton. Or any of the others.

  But she could have been.

  The semblance between the woman and the victims was way too much to ignore, the mere sight of her being what had caused Reed to pull up the instant he stepped into the living room.

  Remaining mum on it for a moment, Reed bent at the waist, extending the T-shirt to Billie. Knowing instantly what the offering was for, she extended her head, burying her muzzle in it and taking three or four deep pulls of the scent before stepping back.

  Darting her tongue out over her nose, she let him know she was ready, almost hopping in place, anxious to be moving.

  “Search,” Reed said, dropping his voice into a command.

  Lowering her head straight to the floor, Billie immediately fell to it, sweeping her nose from side to side, moving in a quick path around the living room.

  Watching her work, Reed already knew that the girl hadn’t been in the house. The place was too meticulous, the photo Martin was staring at too obvious, for such a mistake to have ever been made.

  But he still needed to be thorough. He needed to clear the house so they had a corner of the property secured and could work their way out from there.

  At times in the past, he had allowed assumptions to cloud his judgment, tripping him up on tiny details that could have made a big difference. In the end, things had turned out okay, but he couldn’t run that risk here.

  Not with the life of one girl depending on it, the fates of so many others still left unknown.

  Squeezing the top of the bag back together, Reed followed a pace behind Billie as she worked her way around the room. Sweeping across the floor in great swaths, she continued down the length of the wall with the portrait hanging on it, allowing the design flow of the home to lead the way.

  Never more than a few feet behind her, Reed followed her up the stairs, watching as she worked through a bedroom, a den, and a bathroom, never once raising her nose higher than a few inches above the floor. Not once did her posture change or her gait slow, nothing that could be construed as a hit in the slightest.

  As she worked through each of the rooms, Reed did the same, scanning his surroundings, finding the place just as sterile as the floor below. Starting in the bedroom, he found the closet arranged with military precision, flannel shirts and jeans hung in uniform rows. Same for the dresser, T-shirts and undergarments all folded neatly, everything in the same size, all of it meant for a man.

  Swinging into the bathroom, Reed found the counter to contain all the usual male grooming essentials, not a single item of makeup or perfume. Not even a hairbrush, a plastic comb the closest thing like that in sight.

  Clumped in the caddy hanging on the wall of the shower was nothing more than a basic combination shampoo and body wash, a cheap off-brand that could be picked up at Wal-Mart or Costco for a couple of bucks.

  With each space he entered, Reed could feel his frustration rising. Not only had the home failed to deliver Serena Gipson, but it had also been stripped to the point of providing precious little about whoever lived there.

  Swinging into the final room on the top level, he found a small den with a rolltop desk and rocking chair, the ceilings slanted to accommodate the pitch of the roof. Tilting his head to avoid the low clearance, he heard Billie finish her search and begin to descend the stairs, the sound of her weight hitting each step echoing through the house.

  Reaching the desk, Reed jerked open the top drawer. Rifling through it, he found the usual assortment of home office supplies filling most of the space, pens and notepads and paperclips all piled high.

  Feeling his concern for procedure or personal property slipping away with each passing moment, he pushed on to the one below it. Rummaging through it, he shoved things to and fro, his hands moving quickly before finally freezing, his fingertips landing on the first thing that might be of use to them.

  Not a tremendous find, but a start.

  Snatching it out of the desk, Reed shoved the drawers closed. Following the same path Billie had a moment before, he returned to find her standing right where she had started, on all fours and staring up at him, ready for her next assignment.

  “Anything?” Martin asked, finally tearing his attention away from the photo and turning to face Reed.

  Arms still folded across his torso, the front of his shirt was damp from his sprint in a few minutes before, though his forehead appeared to finally be dry.

  “Nothing on the girl,” Reed said.

  Even though it was disappointing, he couldn’t say that it was too surprising. The home was an older model, built at least fifty years prior. Sturdy, but definitely not made for the sorts of things this guy was doing, the walls too thin, the chance of visibility too great.

  And certainly not with more than a half-dozen outbuildings waiting so close by, any one of them providing much better cover.

  Assuming they were even in the right place, the farm looking to sprawl in every direction.

  “Got this, though,” Reed said, extending what he had lifted from the desk upstairs a moment before.

  A plain white envelope, the top flap had been ripped open in a jagged line, random bits of paper sticking up at odd intervals. In the corner of it was a letterhead for a local bank Reed wasn’t familiar with, t
he mailing address in Okmulgee.

  Those parts, he wasn’t nearly as concerned with.

  Unfurling his arms, Martin accepted it, needing to look only as far as the outside to see what Reed was referring to.

  “Edward Gaines,” he read aloud, jerking his attention back up. In quick order, a handful of responses flitted over his features, none lasting more than a moment before the next pressed in. “Hot damn. We got a name.”

  “We got a name,” Reed echoed.

  “Let me call this in right now,” Martin said. “I’ll tell Martinelli and Dunne to put out a BOLO on him. Loop in the reservation police.”

  Nodding, Reed said, “Give Wyatt a call too, if you wouldn’t mind. He’ll want to know about this.”

  “You got it,” Martin said, already reaching for his hip. “Where you headed?”

  An exact heading, Reed didn’t have. What he did know was that there was still a tremendous number of buildings left unchecked, places Serena Gipson could still be waiting for them to arrive.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  It was the chill that finally managed to creep in, breaking through yet another trauma, working past the pain in Serena Gipson’s face. As it brought on a bout of uncontrollable shivering, blood rushed to her essential organs as she lay on the floor in only the same cotton T-shirt she’d worn to work days before, her jeans swapped out for cheap shorts the man must have put on her at some point while she was unconscious.

  The sudden redistribution left her limbs at a deficit, causing her entire body to quiver. With time, the torment of it grew strong enough to work into her psyche, finally sufficient to pull her back to the surface.

  Without it, there was no telling for how long she might have been laying on the floor. Her fourth time rendered unconscious in just a couple of days, it wasn’t even a certainty that she would have woken up, a nice warm spot in the bed perhaps enough to keep her from ever cracking her eyes open again.

  Even as it was, it took everything her weakened form had.

  Flat on her back and staring up at the ceiling, the first thing to register was the fact that the lights above were out. Having been extinguished at some point while she was under, the bulbs were dark, mercifully saving her from their omnipresent glare.

  In their absence, the room was illuminated just slightly, a faint glow persisting, allowing her to make out each of the objects around her without fully picking up their details.

  Not that it mattered any longer.

  The man, the sadistic bastard who insisted on calling her Molly, who forced her to refer to him as Eddy Bear, had even branded as much into her skin, had gotten to her. She had taken her best shot, had used her one chance, and had failed.

  She was flat on her back, her head throbbing, feeling like it might roll free from her neck at any point.

  And he was gone.

  All she’d managed to do was get in one good shot to his knee, making him uncomfortable for a while, and at the same time hastening her own demise.

  Tears collected at the corners of her eyes. They managed to slide down her right cheek in an uneven line, finding a downward path they could creep through, the swelling on the opposite side still too pronounced.

  Another shiver traveled the length of Serena’s body, goose pimples and sensation rising along her skin. Setting every injury she’d sustained in the previous days ablaze, she was again reminded of the mark on her leg, of the extreme abuse her face had received.

  Of all the ways she’d imagined the remainder of her twenties playing out, of all the plans she’d harbored for after the girls were graduated, never had being some freak’s punching bag made the list.

  Nor had failing to make it past even the halfway point of the decade.

  Curling onto her left side, Serena felt the hard floor dig into her shoulder and hip. Just two more points added to the misery she was already in, she drew her knees up to her chest, pulling herself into a ball.

  Tucking her shoulders and head forward, pressing them against her knees, she hugged herself as tight as she could, grasping for any tiny bit of warmth she could generate. Moisture dripped sideways across her face, her eyes blinking quickly against the sting of it.

  And eventually allowing them to clear enough for her to realize what she was seeing.

  That, while the man was nowhere to be seen, the chill in the air and the faint light around her were both caused by the fact that he had left the door open in his wake.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Reed didn’t need to bring along the T-shirt of Serena Gipson. With the scent still so fresh in Billie’s nostrils, there was no way she could lose it, her focus on that and nothing more, her mind processing it better than most humans could handle sight.

  If he were to take her down the average street, not only could she tell if a particular person had been by, but if a child had dropped popcorn there two days prior, and if another dog had urinated there a day before that.

  Never was there a singular scent with her, the world built in layers, allowing her to pick out what they needed, even when there were dozens of competing smells.

  Such as when searching a working farm.

  Leaving the T-shirt sitting on the kitchen counter, the search started just outside the back door. Baton held tight in hand, Reed flexed his knees, his body turned to the side, his gaze sweeping the grounds around them.

  The world bathed in the hue of the pale lights of the security lamps on either end of the spread, Reed waited for any sign of movement. He listened hard, hearing nothing beyond the rustle of oak leaves in the yard.

  The vast majority of the time, Billie was the vigilant one. She used her hyper-acute senses to pick up on things that Reed didn’t, either because of his physical limitations or because his attention got diverted to some other aspect of an investigation.

  More than once, she had alerted him of somebody being nearby, or of a dangerous substance in the area, or any of a handful of other things.

  Which, tonight, meant that Reed needed to repay the favor, being the one to watch their surroundings. Once Billie lowered her head, her complete focus became singular.

  “Search!”

  The word had no more than faded from the air before Billie dropped her nose to the ground. Beginning just inches past the rear door still sagging on its hinges, she swept her head in either direction, body twisting and contorting, taking in everything. Working without a tether, she chewed up a path more than four feet across, her pace quick and even.

  Careful to stay no more than a step behind her, Reed kept the collapsible weapon gripped tight. Alternating his gaze between his partner and their surroundings, he allowed her to choose the path, following as she moved toward the center of the gravel expanse.

  Making it almost to the exact midpoint, Billie veered slightly right. Increasing her pace, she pointed her nose toward the barn rising up on the back end, each step making her destination more obvious.

  Feeling his hand tighten as she did so, Reed raised his pace to match. Pulling even beside her, he continued to swivel his attention to either side, checking over the fronts of the various outbuildings, the lone pickup truck sitting silently nearby.

  Everything else seemed to fade away as they worked, the darkened world around them completely silent, the deep sniffs of Billie the sole sound. Within the glow of the security lights, visibility was plentiful, the fields beyond their reach dark, extending out into the night.

  Despite the cool temperature of the night air, Reed could feel moisture on his face and back. Perspiration driven by a heart rate that continued to rise as they approached the barn, the structure loomed large before them, seeming to grow in height with every step.

  Each inch closer brought more detail into view – the exterior formed by vertical wooden slats painted red, white trim outlining a sliding front gate and a smaller door beside it. Out front, a pair of ruts had been cut into the gravel abutting the main door, furrowed several inches deep, bits of the underlying dirt visible.
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br />   As Reed took all this in, his mind working through every possible scenario the structure might contain, Billie continued to search. Seemingly oblivious, she kept her head down, her path winding just slightly as she swept the grounds.

  Not yet had she alerted on anything. Reed knew her posture, had seen her in action enough times, to know exactly what that looked like. As if a charge of electricity had passed straight through her, her pace would increase dramatically. The sweeping would cease, her focus on a sole path, propelling them forward.

  This wasn’t quite that, though it was impossible to deny that her course seemed to have a particular bearing. Trusting her enough to follow it, to give her the freedom to go where she needed to go, Reed jogged out ahead. Reaching the barn several strides before her, he bypassed the larger sliding entrance, instead going for the smaller door beside it.

  A working facility, something that was probably accessed a dozen times a day, it wasn’t surprising to find the gate had little more than a basic latch. Feeling yet another ripple rise through his chest, Reed slid it free, holding the baton at the ready as he stepped inside just an instant before Billie arrived behind him.

  Growing up in Oklahoma City, Reed hadn’t spent a tremendous amount of time in barns. A couple of summers he’d helped a family friend bale hay, had gone horseback riding a few times in high school in an attempt to impress a girl, but by and large, his outdoor activities of choice were more of the hunting and fishing variety.

  Still, he’d been in enough barns to know the basic layout, finding the space to be much in line with what he’d expected, nothing obvious jumping out at him on a first glance.

  Illuminated by a handful of yellow bulbs in wire cages, everything was cast in a filmy light. A faint buzz was just barely audible, the air redolent with scents ranging from diesel fuel to alfalfa.

  Stretched along the right side of the building, running from just inside the door as far back as he could see, was an even row of horse stalls. All built right into the side of the structure, they were made of wood. On one side, they opened into the center concrete aisleway Reed and Billie stood on, a matching gate on the backend leading out into individual paddocks.