by Linda Berry
Adrenaline humming, Granger walked the perimeter and discovered something a few feet away nearly buried in snow. An Old Crow bourbon whiskey bottle, empty. “Here’s why he slept in. He must have been in a stupor this morning. Nursing the mother of all hangovers.”
“He’s riding slow,” Tommy said. “Probably hurts to move fast.”
“Let’s go,” Magic said. “If we hustle, we can catch up to him pretty quick.”
Granger felt a twinge of hope. If they didn’t find Elahan, they would at least grab this stalker and eliminate the immediate danger. They mounted their horses and hit the trail at a good clip. The sky darkened and the wind gusted, biting their cheeks. Naked branches of trees clacked together and fat snowflakes swirled from a heavy sky. Granger hunched his shoulders, brought his collar up to his ears, and tugged his scarf over his face.
They hadn’t gone a mile when a warning alarm blared in his head and the men stopped in their tracks. A saddled, gray Morgan stood off the trail, partly hidden in the trees.
Pow-WHOP.
A sharp crack exploded, followed by a guttural boom that rolled over the terrain. The three men scattered, each dismounting in the woods and taking cover. Tommy and Magic grabbed their rifles. Granger pulled out his Glock pistol.
Pow-WHOP.
Through the gauzy curtain of snow, a haze of gun smoke appeared above a felled tree thirty yards away and was instantly carried sideways by the wind.
Using sign language, Granger signaled for the men to give him cover. They did. Rounds exploded. Granger saw the snow and earth rip up in front of the dead tree as the two men sprayed the area with bullets. The air thickened with gun smoke. The shooter stayed pinned down, unable to get off a shot. Granger sprinted from tree to tree, circling behind, and dodged behind a ponderosa pine where he had a clear view of the shooter. Crouched low, dressed in camo, gripping his rifle, the man crouched low. It was Grisly. Most likely stinking, shit-faced drunk to make such a stupid move—firing upon three men, putting himself in a weak position that could easily get him killed, adding an attempted murder charge to his already impressive criminal record.
Granger had a clear shot. “Put the gun down, Grisly!”
Grisly whipped around and fired. Rounds tore into the trunk of the ponderosa and sprayed Granger’s face with sharp bits of bark. The shots rang in Granger’s ears. His pulse raced. “Put the gun down. Or you’re gonna die out here. You don’t stand a chance. We’ve got you surrounded.”
Grisly fired more rounds. Chips of bark exploded like wayward missiles from the trunks of surrounding trees. Then another deafening silence. His magazine was spent. Granger stepped out from behind the tree and watched his two partners rush Grisly from the side. Magic slammed Granger’s head with the butt of a rifle and he fell backwards in the snow. Tommy kicked the weapon aside and the two men pulled him to his feet. He stood stunned and wobbling but he wasn’t seriously injured, thanks to the cushioning of his Elmer Fudd hat. Granger exhaled, releasing the tension he’d been holding.
Tommy got right in Grisly’s face, speaking in his native tongue, squeezing the trapper’s throat in a tight grip, breathing hard, emitting bursts of vapor.
“Chill, Tommy,” Granger said, as he approached.
Tommy tossed him a look of rage, but dropped his hand.
“Why the hell are you out here terrorizing an old woman and a boy?” Granger asked.
“I don’t give a shit about the old witch and the kid,” Grisly said, slurring his words. “It ain’t me they have to worry about. I just want that fucking wolf.”
“Where you’re going, you’ll never kill another animal,” Tommy hissed.
Grisly’s bloodshot eyes met his and held a hard, cold stare, challenging him.
“Who do they have to worry about, Grisly, if it isn’t you?” Granger asked, his voice controlled, though his nerves were firing underneath. “Is someone else out here hunting them?”
Grisly smirked. The smell of alcohol ghosted off of him. “Yeah. But you won’t find ‘im. He’s like a coyote. Smart. Quiet.”
“Who is he?”
“Don’t know. He’s been following me. Stays out of sight in the woods. I only caught a glimpse of him a couple times.”
“What does he look like?”
“Dressed in black. Raccoon hat. Rides a black quarter horse.”
“When did you see him last?”
“I heard him splashing through the creek at dawn,” Grisly said, weaving.
The three men were silent, digesting the news. Was Grisly telling the truth? Or had he been hallucinating in the throes of drink? Or was he jerking them around?
Tommy looked gut-punched. Magic’s cheek twitched. Obviously, they believed him.
The snow dusted the four men and their horses white.
“No use looking for his tracks,” Grisly said. “They’ll be covered by now. In this storm, there’s only one place he could be headed.”
“Where’s that?” Granger asked with a twinge of hope.
“An old, abandoned cabin a couple miles from here. I’ve holed there before in shit weather like this.”
Granger had no choice but to take him at his word. “Tie his hands, Tommy. Let’s get him on his horse. He’s going to take us to that cabin.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
DARNELL ESCORTED River Menowa into the grill room. Tall and handsome, River could have been a model for winter wear in his expensive Canada Goose parka and Duckfeet Arhus boots. Under his jacket, he wore designer jeans and a blue button-down business shirt. He removed the parka and threw it over the back of his chair and took his seat. Sidney and Darnell sat in their usual places, quietly accessing the young man who was so adept at hiding secrets behind a charming façade.
River looked around, taking in the stark room. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said. “No frills school of design.”
Sidney smiled, and said pleasantly, “Fits the budget. Thanks for coming in. We just have a few questions for you.”
“Of course.” His expressive brown eyes met hers. “I’m not sure why I’m here. I don’t know how I can help your investigations. As you know, I rarely visit Two Creeks.”
“True, but you were there the last few days. During the time Nikah Tamanos was killed.”
His brow furrowed. “Sounds ominous. Am I a suspect?”
Sidney was waiting for the moment she could recite his Miranda rights, which she would carefully couch in a reassuring tone. Without that precondition, River could confess to being the shooter on the grassy knoll, or to killing Jimmy Hoffa, and she wouldn’t be able to use it as evidence. If she Mirandized him too soon, he could spook and lawyer up. If she waited too long, important details might slip out that wouldn’t be admissible in court. “These are just routine questions, River. We’re interviewing many villagers. You never know what random bit of information might help us out.”
He shrugged. “Sure. Fire away.” Smooth. Sure of himself.
Wanting to keep him at ease, she kept her voice light and friendly. “First, let’s establish your whereabouts so we can get that out of the way. Where were you late Friday night?”
“At my mom’s house,” he said a little too quickly, as though he had prepared for the question.
Darnell started scribbling. River looked at him nervously. Darnell lay down the pen.
“Did you know Nikah Tamanos?”
“Yes. We were friends.”
“Dating?”
He blinked. “Why do you ask?”
“Other villagers mentioned seeing you together.”
His demeanor changed instantly. Muscles tightened around his mouth and his eyes narrowed while he thought of the appropriate reply.
Sidney filled in the answer for him, speaking gently. “We know you were lovers, River. Your fingerprints were found on her headboard and nightstand. Someone saw your BMW parked in her driveway the night she died.”
River wasn’t under arrest, but just being in an interrogation roo
m was intimidating. On top of that, having evidence thrown at you that implicated you in a murder hit like a sucker punch. Her intent was to disarm him. It worked. Even though River gave off the aura of cool, she could sense his nervous tension. “We know Nikah had sex the night she died. DNA was found on the bed sheets. Do you mind if we take a DNA swab so we can rule you out as a suspect?”
He licked his lips. “Yes, I mind.”
“I don’t think you understand how this works, River,” she continued in a soothing tone. “Giving a DNA sample isn’t a choice. Look, I’m going to be straight with you. We have enough evidence to arrest you for murder one. I can have a compulsion order from a judge over here in ten minutes.” She paused to let that steep for a few seconds. “If your DNA is a match, that means you were the last person to see Nikah alive, which makes you my primary suspect. I could arrest you right now, but I’d like to give you a chance to present your side of the story.”
River sat quietly. Looking for an out.
They always wanted an out.
His self-control remained intact and his face revealed no emotion. “Okay. You can have a DNA swab. It’ll be a match to me. We had sex. That doesn’t mean I killed her.”
It was time.
“River, you have a chance to help us out here. To help yourself. To help the villagers understand what happened. Are you willing to do that?”
He nodded, his face shadowing with emotion.
Sidney recited his Miranda rights.
River eyed her, listening.
“You don’t have to talk to us. You understand that, right?”
“Yes.”
His stiff posture relaxed and Sidney knew her gentle tone had soothed him. She nodded to Darnell. He took his cue. He left the room and a moment later returned with a water pitcher and some paper cups. She poured a cup for all three of them. River drank his immediately. She refilled it.
She slid a photo of the key and medallion across the table. “Recognize these?”
His face blanched.
Sidney tapped the photo. “We know these two items were originally stolen from a collector in Sweetwater named Vincent Schuman. Your mother lived in Sweetwater at the time they were stolen. The Stalker then stole these items from your mother’s house in the village. Your mother believed Lancer was the Stalker. Lancer’s girlfriend ended up dead. You were sleeping with her. Are you keeping up with me? I don’t believe in coincidences, River. Somehow all of this fits together.” Sidney’s tone sounded curious, not threatening. A friend talking to a friend. “Maybe you can shed some light on it for me.”
There was silence in the room. River shifted uneasily in his chair. His dark-eyed stare became bold and defiant. “Mom didn’t steal that stuff. They belong to her. Heirlooms from her side of the family going back generations. Mom’s married name is Schuman. She was married to Vince. If anything, he stole from her. He knew Mom took them, but he reported them stolen. He collected the insurance.”
Sidney didn’t know when she learned to be alert to male anger, but she was an ace. She sensed River was striving to control his temper. When he spoke, his voice was even, but she could hear its strangled wrath.
“That bastard beat the holy crap out of Mom on a regular basis. She got away from him barely alive, with only a few possessions, including these.” He tapped the photo. “Mom didn’t report Vince’s fraud because he would find out where she was. We’re both convinced he’ll kill her if he gets half a chance.”
Sidney listened, slowly digesting the information. “I understand your concern, River. We’ll look into your claims, discreetly. If these items belong to your mom, they’ll be returned.”
“Thank you.”
“How long had you been seeing Nikah?”
“Just a couple months. I’ve known her since Mom moved to Two Creeks. But she had a boyfriend. We only hooked up after Lancer split the scene.”
“What happened the night she died?”
River went quiet, arms crossed, possibly buying time to fabricate his story. “We didn’t have a date. With us, it was spur of the moment. She called me around nine and asked me to come over.”
“Is that how it normally was for you? Casual?”
“Yes. I let her run the show. She was in a vulnerable place. Lancer was being accused of being the Stalker, and he’d been asked to leave the village.”
“How’d that make her feel?”
“Messed up. Super depressed. She didn’t believe Lancer was the Stalker, but she felt a lot of shame for bringing an outsider, a drunk, into the village. She heard the gossip, saw how people looked at her. They wanted to say something comforting, but they couldn’t. They believed he did it.” He sighed. “I got that she still loved him. But he was a drunk and she wanted him out of her life. As a friend, I lent a sympathetic ear. We had sex without obligations.”
“So, what happened the night she died?”
He went quiet again, staring at the door as if imagining being on the other side of it. He drained his cup of water, wiped his mouth. “When I got to her place, I saw that she had emptied an entire bottle of wine. She was pretty ripped. I thought about leaving, but she said she was down in the dumps and really needed a friend.” A new quality came into his voice. His measured tone gave way to tenderness, but tenderness haunted by a tinge of sorrow. “Against my better judgment, I stayed. She drank more wine. We ended up in bed.”
“You cared about her.”
His brown eyes softened. “Very much.”
Was the rough sex Nikah’s idea, or his? Sidney decided to leave the details of their sexual preference private.
“What happened next?”
“We didn’t get to sleep until around two. Nikah had been having problems with insomnia. She’d just gotten a prescription for Ambien and she popped a couple to help her sleep. They knocked her out. I woke up early, around five. Nikah was dead to the world. I decided to take the opportunity to have a look around, see if I could find my mom’s stuff. About fifteen minutes later, Nikah found me searching her office. She was swaying and holding on to the door frame for support.”
Bright spots of color now burned in River’s cheeks. “I’d found the key to Nikah’s safe in a drawer and had it open, going through her private stuff. She asked me what the hell I was doing. I told her I was looking for the heirlooms Lancer stole from my mom. That he was the Stalker.” River swallowed, shook his head with a look of wonder. “Nikah turned into a mad woman. She started screaming incoherently that Lancer wasn’t a criminal. Slurring her words. She grabbed a pair of scissors from the desk and came at me like a wild animal. I raised my arms to defend myself. She slashed me.”
The hair rose on Sidney’s arms as she imagined the violence of Nikah’s attack. She was attuned to every nuance of expression, every tone in River’s voice.
“I’ve relived what happened next over and over.” His eyes closed and he struggled to keep his voice steady. “I wish I had acted differently, but it was instinctual to defend myself. I shoved her away. She tripped and hit her head on the corner of the desk. Then her head hit the floor, hard.” He shuddered. “It was horrible. Violent. Blood streamed out of her hair and spread across the rug. It happened fast. In an instant.” Anguish distorted his features and he covered his face with his hands.
Sidney and Darnell exchanged a glance. River had just confessed to murder. “It’s okay. Take your time,” she said gently.
Tremors passed through River’s shoulders. Finally, he pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his parka, wiped his moist eyes, and said hoarsely, “I tried to revive her, but she wasn’t breathing. No pulse. She was dead.”
His tears made his eyes harder to read, but Sidney believed he was telling the truth. Nikah’s erratic behavior was consistent with symptoms induced by Ambien and alcohol. And Doctor Linthrope surmised that the blows to Nikah’s head killed her instantly. “May I see the wound?”
Without answering, River unbuttoned and pushed up the left sleeve of his shirt. He peeled
back a gauze bandage and revealed a red gash about three inches long that had been crudely stitched. “Mom sewed it up for me.”
“What did you do next?” Sidney asked, getting him back on track.
“I didn’t know what to do. I was in shock. In hindsight, I know I should have called you, but instead I called Mom. That was a mistake.” The words lodged in his throat as though struggling to come out. “She came over right away and took control. After thinking everything through, she said we had to move Nikah out of the house and remove every trace that I’d been there. She was convinced if we called the cops, I’d be accused of murder.” Creases of frustration notched his forehead. “Sorry, but Mom has a blind spot where law enforcement is concerned. The legal system never took her side when she reported Vince’s abuse. His high-priced lawyers got him off every time with a slap on the wrist.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sidney said in an even tone, though her temper was flaring over Jenna’s wrong-headed interference. “That won’t be the case here. You’ll be treated fairly. Please, go on with your story.”
River released a deep breath. “We followed the custom of our people. We washed Nikah’s body and dressed her in clean clothes. To aid her in the afterlife, we did a cleansing ceremony and sang a funeral song. Mom told me to go. She’d clean up. We wrapped Nikah in the rug, and I laid her on the back seat of my car. I didn’t think twice about taking her to the creek. She loved that spot by the bridge. She told me it was the one place where she always felt at peace. Where she felt close to the spirit world. I slipped her into the water, and it felt right. Cleansing. Releasing her back from where she came.”
The room was quiet for a few moments while Sidney assessed River. His story was convincing. He had no priors, not even a traffic ticket. But he was a smart businessman with a dozen employees. He knew right from wrong. By his own admission, he knew he should have called law enforcement instead of his mother. Jenna’s misguided advice put him at risk of a murder conviction. Sidney’s sympathy went only so far, and it had reached its limit. “We’ll need to get those scissors to the lab.”