Fifteen Coffins

by Tony J. Forder

  ‘A couple of times,’ Baxter replied, the twist of his lips suggesting he hadn’t enjoyed either encounter.

  ‘Did he strike you as the survivalist type?’

  ‘Can’t say he did. Sydney, due to my current delightful nature, you may have missed the fact that I’m somewhat misanthropic. I attended teacher-parent evenings because it said I had to on my contract of employment, but I took little pleasure or notice at the time. Kind of like sending my body along but leaving my mind at home.’

  ‘I know they have a farm and that they sell milk, so they are in business. That suggests they pay their taxes, which would be one strike against them being Preppers. They also make sure their son attends school, which is another. That doesn’t mean the woodland they live in doesn’t have an underground bunker somewhere. A shelter containing a cache of firearms, perhaps.’

  Baxter pursed his lips while he gave that some thought. Eventually he shook his head. ‘I see a boy wearing something like that shirt, I tend to think he’s his father’s son in more ways than biologically. There’s been talk of a group in the area, and the Copping ranch is an obvious location to consider, what with those deep woods of theirs. But survivalists or not, a stash of guns or not, none of that means Mitchell Copping carried out a school massacre and got away with it. For one thing, did he seem at all put out by you being a Fed?’

  ‘No,’ Sydney admitted. ‘Initially he came across as surly and reluctant, but not afraid. Not of my badge, at least.’

  ‘Which he would more than likely be if he was responsible for those murders and woundings and subsequently got an unexpected visit from the FB of I.’

  The two were silent for a mile or so. As they swung around the upward curve leading into the Falls, Sydney took one hand off the wheel and wagged a finger in the air. ‘Did Mitchell Copping seem like the kind of boy who hangs out in the library during a free period?’ she asked.

  ‘No, he did not. Can’t say I recall ever seeing him in there, either. I have to say, I did wonder about that.’

  ‘I suppose he could have been smoking behind the school or fooling around with his friends or even a girl, but didn’t want to admit to it with his mother standing there. Not that he had any respect for her. Still, even if it was a lie, it doesn’t mean he was strolling around the school shooting people.’

  ‘No. There are a dozen more likely reasons than that.’

  There were. But Sydney was not about to rule Mitchell Copping out of her thinking. Although the boy’s arrogance and smug detachment did not make him a stone-cold killer, and his overall demeanour was not suggestive of a high level of cunning, repressed anger and deviousness were two traits generally associated with the kind of people who carried out such atrocities. If anything, Sydney considered the boy to be more the easily led than a leader. She didn’t like Copping, but that was no basis by which to judge him on this specific matter.

  ‘It would have been too easy for our first visit to be the only one we needed to make,’ she said, expelling air in a loud sigh.

  Baxter agreed. ‘I’ll be honest, from the moment I gave the names of those three boys to you, my money has been on Luke DeVeer. Talking to that idiot back there hasn’t changed my thinking one iota.’

  Sydney had yet to meet the other two students, but she had an idea Baxter was right about the Copping boy.

  Twenty-Two

  When Sydney pulled the truck up onto the drive, she did so alongside a black Mercedes SUV. Sitting on the porch by the front door was a tall, lean figure, who reclined with his feet up on the handrail. The man did not stir, not until Sydney reached the narrow deck and slapped the sole of his boots.

  ‘Hi, darlin’,’ he said, with a deep southern drawl. He did not budge an inch, the slap not fazing him one iota.

  Smiling down at Hank Stevensen, Sydney leaned against one of the wooden porch supports, both arms folded beneath her chest. ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ she replied. It had been their customary greeting for the better part of a decade.

  ‘How you doing, Syd?’

  ‘Getting there.’

  ‘Sleeping?’

  ‘Some.’

  ‘Eating?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘Neither sounds enough to me, Sydney Merlot.’

  She offered no reply to that. ‘You coming inside?’ she asked him, stepping past the chair and reaching for the lock on the door. ‘Or are you going to sit out here yapping to yourself?’

  ‘Will there be beer?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then I’m coming inside.’

  Hank followed her into the open plan space. The sun nudged the horizon, and the house had begun to cool. Her father had fitted air-con, but it was expensive to run. Sydney had resisted using it since arriving back in Moon Falls. Cold beer, ceiling fans, and hot showers had seen her through.

  ‘You hear about the fires further north?’ Hank asked, accepting a Bud and twisting off the cap before taking a pull of his beer. ‘You’re going to catch some real ugly smoke here in the next day or two.’

  ‘I’ve not had the radio or TV on at all today,’ Sydney answered. ‘Is it a bad one?’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah. She ain’t going down without one heck of a fight. Those hotshot boys are about to be real busy.’

  It was a fact of life these days. The summer sun left the ground parched and ripe for both accidental fires or arson, and the winds blew in hard and fast along unpredictable routes, making it nearly impossible to stop the inexorable march of a wanton and determined wildfire. Moon Falls had an early warning system in place that broke into TV and radio transmissions to deliver updates and instructions to abandon the area if the threat moved close enough. Sydney had never seen or heard it go live, but her father had mentioned it activating a couple of years earlier. It was a strange way to exist, but people coped by getting on with their lives and praying the worst did not come calling.

  ‘Sorry I haven’t been around since the ceremony, darlin’,’ Hank said after draining half his beer in two thirsty swallows. ‘I got back from Wyoming about an hour ago and drove straight here.’

  Shaking her head, Sydney said, ‘It’s not a problem. Please don’t apologise again. You told me you had business to attend to that couldn’t wait, and I understood. Your life has to go on.’

  ‘I realise that. I just felt terrible leaving you to pick up the pieces on your own, is all. But I’m back, so whatever you need just let me know. I can be yours for a whole week if it helps any.’

  Sydney’s father had used Hank off and on for investigations requiring a more devious and off books method. As the local police and sheriff’s department had learned to fear the man over the years, so too did those who encountered him or the work he set his mind to. He reminded Sydney of the actor Sam Elliott, though Hank sported a trimmed beard to go with the bushy white moustache. Not a huge guy, he nonetheless had a way about him that made people cautious in their approach. Hank never spoke about his past, but those who crossed him quickly discovered that in addition to a razor-sharp mind, he possessed strength, power, and an iron-willed determination.

  Ever since her altercation with Sonora PD, Sydney had debated with herself whether to tell Hank about the run-in with officer Peavey. She decided Hank was bound to learn of the details eventually, and would be disappointed if it came from anybody else. So she explained what she had done so far by way of closing down her father’s business, including looking into Sonia Kasper’s problems. After telling him about being pulled over, Peavey’s handling of the stop, and her subsequent detainment, Hank’s expression altered only in a narrowing of the eyes.

  ‘You shouldn’t let them get away with it,’ he said to her. ‘Neither Peavey nor Weekes. They’re both culpable, Syd.’

  ‘I know. And believe me, it’s not my intention to leave matters where they ended the other night. But I still have things to do here, Hank, and I don’t need to be crossing swords with them at the moment. There’ll be time enough when I’m done here to think about w
hat I’m going to do with those two assholes.’

  ‘Does Benton know?’

  ‘He does.’

  Hank nodded. ‘Then that ought to take care of the ass-kicking Peavey has coming at the very least.’

  Sydney dropped her chin, fidgeting with her bottle of Bud. ‘I’m not so sure about that. The Doc and I are… well, I don’t exactly know what we are, but I don’t think we’re friends anymore.’

  ‘That’s a shame. Would it have anything to do with what you’re not telling me?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Only that you’ve spoken a whole lot about what you’ve been doing here these past few days, Syd. But there was a huge gaping hole where something else ought to be. Something you’re keeping from me.’

  She should have known better than to try putting one over on him. The man was a bloodhound in human guise, one trained to sniff out secrets. They had remained standing in the kitchen, too close together for her to avoid his penetrating gaze. Relenting, Sydney gave up the Dexter Muller story. Hank’s reaction was to fix her with one of his deep, quizzical looks while slowly shaking his head.

  ‘Oh, my darlin’, Sydney. What have you got yourself into?’

  Only two men had ever been able to make Sydney feel as small and helpless as she did right then. Hank Stevensen was the only one left to do so, and because of that the sting was twice as painful.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, spreading out her hands palms up. ‘I couldn’t help myself. It’s in my DNA, I suppose. But now that I’m in, I’m in all the way. And I think there’s something there, Hank.’

  ‘That’s as maybe. But are you sure it’s worth alienating yourself from the people and the town you grew up in?’

  Sydney shook her head. ‘I don’t want to. I didn’t set out to. But when I asked myself what my father would have done had he been sitting in the office when Muller told his story, the only answer I came up with was that he would not have turned his back without first listening to what the man had to say. And if he’d heard what I heard, I don’t believe he would have walked away from it. This place and this community meant the world to him, Hank, but so did the truth. Not forgetting the fact that Muller is also part of the same township and deserves to have his voice heard.’

  ‘And you don’t think the town has been listening?’

  ‘I don’t honestly know. But I am sure they’re not hearing an alternative to what they currently believe to be true, despite one having been offered.’

  Hank finished off his drink and put the bottle down on the counter by the sink. ‘Darlin’, if you believe there’s been a miscarriage of justice, or even that it’s possible, then you ought to be doing it the right way. You asked yourself what your daddy would do. I make you right. But I also know he would have contacted the FBI and harangued them until they reinvestigated.’

  ‘I thought of that,’ Sydney admitted. ‘But you look me in the eye, Hank Stevensen, and you tell me the FBI won’t ultimately collude with both the Tuolumne County sheriff’s office and Sonora PD rather than expose themselves to public scrutiny and lawsuits.’

  ‘You’re FBI. What would you do?’

  ‘We and those other departments tend to rub along together, but we’re not opposed to pointing fingers at their inadequacies from time to time, either.’

  ‘There you go, then.’

  ‘But on this occasion, they are also involved in the whole squalid mess. It’s not only about the men and women who opened fire on Kevin Muller that day, Hank. Because the Bureau blew in and swept it all up, put a bow on top and called it for what they were told it was. Sure, they completed their investigation, but they dug no deeper than the evidence presented to them on a plate. If they hang our local law-enforcement out to dry, they become ultimately accountable for the error.’

  Hank was nodding. ‘And Kevin Muller is still dead no matter what they do. Yeah, I follow that, Syd. But do you not think they’d also show an interest in who the shooter was if not Kevin, at the very least by looking into that possibility off the books?’

  There was always a chance of that happening. Sydney couldn’t be certain, because she didn’t know Special Agent in Charge Jason Doman, and therefore had no clue as to his character or the way he operated. She had no reason to trust him at this early stage in proceedings, and she told Hank as much.

  Raising his head, he said, ‘That mean you would consider handing it over to them once you’ve acquired the necessary evidence?’

  ‘I’m not saying I will, but I’m not ruling it out, either.’

  Hank drew a breath. ‘Well, all right, then. Count me in.’

  Sydney loved Hank. Her father’s friend and confidante for so many years, he had come to resemble the brother she never knew. His affection for her had never been either forced or awkward, and the chemistry between them sparked like electricity on occasion. Which is why she was shaking her head.

  ‘Not a chance, Hank. And I mean it. When I’m done here, I fly back to San Diego and I may never visit Moon Falls again. Other than to see you, why would I? My father is gone, the house soon will be. I’ve already lost Benton as a friend, and anyone else in this town who ever gave a damn about me will turn against me in the days and weeks to come. You are the Falls through and through, buddy, and I’m not having you tainted by my actions. I won’t do it, so please do not argue with me.’

  He didn’t. Stoical as always, Hank smiled and melted her heart with his eyes. ‘Darlin’, if you’ve lost Benton as a friend then he’s the one losing out. And anyone who turns their back on you is undeserving of either your friendship or your love. I’ll tell you something else, you’re not going to lose the house entirely.’

  ‘I’m not?’

  ‘Uh-uh. See, I want you to have more than one reason to think of this town as your second home and a place you can visit whenever you want to get away from the big city stress you carry around with you like a set of chains. I want you to have your old home still waiting here for you, too. Which is why I intend buying it from you.’

  Sydney was momentarily stunned. ‘You’re not serious, are you? Why would you want to buy this place, Hank?’

  He ran a hand across his brow and scratched behind his ear. ‘I’ve rented an apartment here in the Falls since I was eighteen years of age. I figure it’s about time I put down deeper roots in this town. Before it’s too late and I’m actually part of those roots.’

  She went to him and embraced him so tightly he gasped. ‘Oh, you lovely, lovely man. What a wonderful surprise.’

  He looked down at her with that big, easy grin of his fixed in place. ‘You know I’ve always loved this place.’

  Tears in her eyes, she nodded and smiled. ‘I know. You and my daddy had some great times here.’

  ‘We all did. The three of us.’

  ‘Like family.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Won’t it be strange for you here without him, Hank? It is for me.’

  ‘Well, you’re his kid. Bound to get to you like that. Me, I’ll think of him often, and maybe I’ll even catch a glimpse of him from time to time. More so here than anywhere else, I reckon. Which makes it as good a reason as any to buy the place.’

  ‘That would be… it would be wonderful. I wouldn’t want to see anyone else here other than you.’

  ‘And you know my home is always going to be your home.’

  ‘I have to say, it would be so lovely to come back here in the spring and breathe in all the fresh air this valley has to offer before the heat sets in and steals it away again.’

  Hank nodded. ‘Then it’s a done deal. Full asking price. But I do want you to reconsider letting me help you out of this bind you’re in, Syd.’

  She was adamant and refused to consider the matter further. ‘Not going to happen. I have help already. And I’ve made a start. So don’t even think about asking me again.’

  He began making his way out of the kitchen. As he moved, boot heels clumping on the floor, Sydney noticed a look of lon
ging and regret pass across his face. He missed her father a great deal, and despite his eagerness must still have had mixed feelings about wanting to live in the house.

  ‘Fair enough,’ he told her. ‘I never was able to shake you from your position once you were dug in. Still, you need to ask me anything, you do that. Advice is free, and nobody else need know the origin.’

  Sydney walked him to the front door. She was feeling guilty about not discussing her other investigation with him. After all, Hank was her father’s best friend and he would want to know if the accident had been nothing of the sort. But once again, Sydney had no intention of involving him in something which had all the signs of going badly wrong.

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ she told him.

  ‘You do that. Be seeing you.’

  Sydney opened the door for him only to find a lone figure standing there, knuckles poised ready to knock.

  ‘Hey there, Sydney,’ Benton said, raising his eyes at Hank in greeting. The sheriff had been hiding something behind his back, and as he brought his hand around she breathed in its delicious aroma. ‘I brought pie.’

  Hank winked at Sydney and patted Lowe on the shoulder as he started to leave. ‘I don’t know if pie alone is going to be enough, Benton,’ he said. ‘But I always thought you had the right stuff.’

  Twenty-Three

  Chauncey Jubb held the assembled group in the palm of his hands. As mayor of Moon Falls, Jubb walked the same fine line all elected officials bestrode; needing to be a political animal above all else. It wouldn’t take much for the next bright young star to rise up and capture the fickle hearts and minds of a community, sweeping into power on the back of promises they had no intention of ever keeping. After all, he had done the exact same thing. But Jubb was as wily as he was ambitious, never allowing the truth or doing the right thing to get in the way of maintaining his iron grip on the town.

  ‘How serious is this, Weekes?’ he asked the police sergeant, who was running a hand across his grizzled face. ‘And for the moment I mean in terms of public perception.’