Chapter Twenty
We stood outside the fort, no one feeling like being inside with the gruesome collection. After Erica and I had gotten all our clothes back on, I’d retrieved Gammon and Panic, and we were taking turns soothing them while Jess held his daughter. We had tied Pinkerton to a tree, and now and then we could hear his whimpering, as if from some wounded, rabid beast. Pinkerton, apparently, was crying.
Jess put Jessie on the ground, covering her with his jacket, and let her sleep. She’d awakened from fainting, told us she was tired and wanted to sleep for a while longer, and then sank back down into oblivion. Her pulse and breathing were fine, but the three of us watched over her carefully.
“She’s in shock,” Jess said. “I just hope to God she comes out of this all right.”
I put my arm around Jess and led him a little farther away from Jessie, so our voices wouldn’t wake her. The day had turned to dusk and the evening air was chilly. I longed to be back home, sitting in front of the fire with Erica, or better yet, snuggled warm in bed. But Jess had told us that Sheriff Booker was on his way, and we knew we needed to wait until he arrived.
“You okay?” I asked, reaching out and taking Jess’s hand.
He shrugged, reaching for one of his cigarettes, his hands trembling. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he looked ten years older than he had that morning.
“If I’d known she was there, I’d have shot him. I never, never would have let my baby girl have to go through something like this.” His voice was ragged with pain. There was so much that needed to be said, and no really good way to say it. Erica and I stood by, telling him there was no way he could have known she was there, but our words bounced off him, his grief too thick to penetrate.
Finally, Erica said, changing the subject, “How did you know to come here? And how do you know the sheriff is on his way?”
“He came by the house a while ago to see if Doug was home, and I knew there was trouble. I told him what Cass had told me this morning about the fire, and he confided to me that Dunk had pretty much told him the whole story. He said Dunk was going to lead them to some fort in the woods where the boys had stashed evidence from crimes they’d committed. The sheriff said he was going to wait for some backup, then head on out there.”
His voice picked up strength as he spoke, and I squeezed Erica’s hand, letting her know she’d done the right thing to ask.
“Right after the sheriff left,” Jess went on, “I saw you two in town. I was going to catch up with you, to tell you what he’d said, but then I could tell by the way you were moving that you were on to something. I can’t say I knew for sure that you were headed for the fort, but I had a bad feeling about the whole thing. It was like I had a premonition, because the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. That happened to me once in Nam and it saved my life, so I don’t take it lightly when it happens now. It’s true what Dougie said about me in Nam, you know. One day I woke up and I couldn’t kill anymore. I absolutely couldn’t do it. I can’t even count how many lives I’d taken, and then all of a sudden one day, I freeze up. I can’t tell you what I went through after that. But none of it compares to today. Not even close.”
Jess’s eyes had a faraway look that scared the shit out of me. He had wandered off the subject, and I was afraid we might not get him back. Gently, I patted his shoulder.
“What happened after you saw us go by, Jess?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed in concentration, and I could tell he was struggling to stay in the present. Then his eyes cleared, and I heaved a sigh of relief. “Bonnie and the kids still like to hunt each season, even if I don’t, and I found my old hunting rifle still in the storage room next to the other ones. That’s when I noticed a couple of them were missing. I grabbed some ammunition, wrapped the rifle in a towel and took off after you. I had to hurry to catch up, then I almost lost you a couple of times, because I was trying to stay back. I damn near had a coronary when that train came tearing through the tunnel. I thought you’d both bought the farm. I had no idea that while I was following you, little Jessie was following me. She must have found that shotgun in the fort because it was one of the ones missing from our house.” His eyes misted over again and I waited for him to go on. “If I had only known she was there, I’d have shot him myself. But I just didn’t believe that Doug would actually fire on me. But he did, didn’t he? And now my baby girl has killed her own brother. How’s a little kid supposed to live with something like this? Can you tell me that?” His voice finally broke and he doubled over, holding his sides. Sobs racked his body, and he held onto his ribs, shaking as he cried. I put my hand on him, wishing there were words for something like this. But if there were, I didn’t know them, and so I comforted him in silence while he suffered.
After what seemed an eternity, his sobs turned to deep sighs, and he was finally able to quit shaking. He lit another cigarette and we stood huddled in the growing darkness, listening to the frogs, watching over Jessie as she slept.
We could hear them before we saw them. First came Dunk, his gangly, stoop-shouldered frame leading the sheriff up the hill toward the fort. Behind the sheriff was Sergeant Grimes and the two uniformed cops that had been with him that first day on Walter Trinidad’s dock. They had their guns drawn, but when they saw us clustered at the top of the hill, they holstered them and hurried up to where we stood.
We took turns telling the story, showing them the fort, leading them to Pinkerton who had finally quit whimpering, eventually taking them to Doug’s body. Grimes bagged all the weapons, including my gun and I knew it would probably be a long time before I saw it again.
It was nearly dark and a gentle breeze raised goosebumps on my arms, even though I had a jacket. Erica was shivering, and I put my arm around her for warmth. This drew a scowl from Grimes, but I couldn’t have cared less. When it was clear we’d done all we could to help, I told Sheriff Booker we were going to head back. He walked us to the top of the hill and handed us his flashlight.
“Cassidy James,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulders. “There are several things I’d like to say to you. First off, I like you. You don’t let a hardass like Grimes get to you, and that takes cojones. I like girls with cojones. Makes ’em more interesting.” His blue eyes twinkled with mischief and he winked at Erica.
I figured I could give the sheriff a lesson on feminism later. I wasn’t a girl and I definitely didn’t have any cojones, but I knew what he meant.
“Second,” he went on, “I’d like to apologize for not taking you a little more seriously at first. You’ve certainly proven yourself to me, and even that dipshit Grimes is trying to figure out how you beat him to the punch. And lastly,” he said, his voice turning serious, “the next time I ask you to tread lightly, please do me a favor and listen. This here’s a small enough town that neither one of us has to be the Lone Ranger. And I definitely do not want to find you lying dead somewhere, and have to go around the rest of my life feeling guilty about it. Capiche?”
For answer, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his deeply tanned cheek, which even in the waning light I, could tell took on a reddish hue.
“Capiche,” I said.
Using his flashlight, I led Erica back down the hill, carrying the cardboard box with Panic and Gammon through the terrible tunnel, around the underbrush, down the streets of Cedar Hills, across the darkened waters of Rainbow Lake, toward home.
Chapter Twenty-One
Outside, the sun sparkled like gold and silver glitter on the water while birds dove and fished in the morning light. It was past eleven, but we were still in bed, snuggled beneath the sheets, occasionally glancing out at the view. It had been a week since that day at the fort, and once we’d finished with the necessary depositions and paperwork, and arranged for Trinidad’s body to be sent back to L.A., we’d spent most of that time right where we were, now and then venturing out into the kitchen for a light meal or a glass of wine, sometimes making it as far as the hot tub or the front dec
k, but never straying too far from each other.
We were wrapped in each other’s arms, both cats snuggled between us, when the unmistakable whir of a motorboat approached. I eased myself up on one elbow and peeked out. To my delight it was Martha.
We watched as she tied up, then lifted a large wicker picnic basket out of her boat. She was wearing white shorts and a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt, her untanned skin already pink from the ride over. Leaning over the side of the bed, I picked up Erica’s shirt and handed it to her, then pulled my own shirt on over my head. It was only Martha, I mused. No point in actually getting up out of bed.
“Anybody home?” she asked, cupping her hands against the windowpane of my bedroom to peer in at us from the front porch. I wiggled my fingers at her and she flashed a grin, letting herself in the front door. A moment later, she was standing at the foot of the bed, smiling down at us, still holding the wicker basket.
“I thought maybe you two had died up here. Phone off the hook? I mean, honestly, have you even gotten out of that bed this week?”
“Once,” I said. “To go to the bathroom.” We all laughed, and Martha began taking things out of her basket.
“I’m here on a mission to save you from yourselves,” she said. “First, sustenance, since I doubt you’ve been taking adequate nourishment.” With this she whisked out a bottle of Mumms’ Champagne, which she expertly uncorked, before pouring three glasses nearly full. She handed us each a glass and raised hers in a toast.
“To new friends. And old ones too.” She winked at me.
We sipped the icy Champagne, letting the bubbles tickle our noses. I watched in amazement as she pulled out croissants, a plate of grapes and sliced pears, a small brick of sharp cheddar and another of Oregon blue cheese, a small tin of pate and finally, small chocolate truffles wrapped in paper.
We set this feast on the bed between us, moving Gammon and Panic to the floor, despite their protests. I broke off a bit of cheddar to appease them, but they both turned tail and huffed from the room.
“I should have brought sardines,” Martha said, settling into a cross-legged position on the end of the bed facing us.
At our request, she caught us up on the world and local news while we ate. She told us that Jess and Jessie had gone off camping to spend some time together after going through all the necessary depositions. Luckily, the D.A. had decided there was no justification for pressing charges against little Jess, and apparently even Grimes agreed. Bonnie, Jess’s wife, had gone to visit her mother, unable to accept or deal with what had happened. Martha told us Pinkerton had been temporarily placed in a juvenile facility up in Portland. It looked like he was so pumped full of drugs, including steroids that it was going to take a while just to get him detoxed. At the very least, he’d be doing serious time in a youth facility, and if they tried him as an adult, it could be for much longer. Dunk, it turned out, had played only a minor role in the crimes and would probably, end up doing a little time in the juvenile detention center where he was now.
“What about Ed Beechcomb?” I asked, biting off a small chunk of cheese.
“Oh, he’s back in town. Betty refused to press charges, even after he kicked her out of the house for good. It seems that when he demanded that she tell him the truth about a rumor he’d heard in town, she didn’t know when to stop. I guess the list went on and on. Ed just lost it. Anyway, I feel more sorry for him than her. She’s already off to greener pastures. Rumor has it, little Tommy Green is in a real funk over the whole thing.”
“And Cass was ready to read him his rights,” Erica teased, elbowing my ribs gently.
“Oh, and the family whose house burned down?” Martha went on, sipping her Champagne, “They’ve decided to rebuild their house. They say the people of Cedar Hills have been so nice to them in their hour of need that they can’t bear the thought of going anywhere else. By the way, I picked up your mail from the dock, in case you’re interested.”
Amid the bills and junk mail was a pink envelope with my address neatly printed in small, precise handwriting. The return address read simply “Jessie.” I tore open the envelope and began reading the letter aloud.
“Dear Cass: After what we’ve been through, I felt Miss James would be kind of formal. I hope you don’t mind. Dad said I should write to you to let you know that we’re okay. We’re camping by a river in Washington, and it seems like all we do is hike and fish. Mostly we talk and boy do we talk! Dad says you were real worried about me, but I’m fine. It’s Dad who’s been having a tough time. He keeps going over and over the fact that he couldn’t pull the trigger and that because of that, I had to. After this vacation we’re both going to start seeing a therapist from Kings Harbor named Maggie. Your cop friend, Martha, got us an appointment with her before we left and she’s real nice. She reminds me a lot of you, only older I think.”
I smiled, then continued reading. “Anyway, the way I explained it to Dad was like this. Being able to shoot Dougie wouldn’t have made Dad any braver. Dad believed right up to the end that Dougie would come to his senses. Dad doesn’t understand how a person can be bad. That’s how we’re different. I knew Dougie was bad. I wasn’t brave for shooting Dougie. It’s just that right then and there, with him having the gun on first Erica and then Dad, I was the only one who could stop him. And one thing I know for sure, Dougie had to be stopped. I still cry all the time, but I don’t feel guilty. Just sad. Remember when I told you I wanted to be a cop? Dad says that’s because I have an inner drive to do good, and to stop the bad guys. Now that Dougie’s gone, you’d think I’d be less driven that way, but actually if anything, I feel like maybe being a cop is what I’m supposed to do. Does that sound crazy? I hope not, because I want to ask you a favor.”
I took a sip of Champagne, wondering what she wanted. “Do you think when we get back I could maybe tag along on some of your investigations? I know I’m only ten, but I turn eleven next month and as you’ve seen, I’m not a baby anymore. I could be pretty helpful if you give me a chance, so please, think it over. Well, I better go now. Dad’s down by the river screaming his head off for the net because he thinks he’s hooked Moby Dick. The last one was about three inches. Oh well. See you soon.”
For some reason I couldn’t explain, tears had welled up in my eyes and I’d had trouble getting through the last lines. Little Jess was going to be all right, I kept thinking as I read. Everyone is going to be all right.
Erica squeezed my hand and raised her glass.
“To rookie detectives,” she said, her sexy blue eyes smiling irresistibly. We all three clinked glasses and as I sipped the Champagne, I knew that sometimes it truly was good to be alive.
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1st Impressions Page 15