But even as those thoughts crossed her mind, she knew the answer. She owed it to her parents and grandparents who had loved her and had done so much for her, especially Audrey Gran, who had refused to let her give up after her parents’ death. She owed it to them all to go on, to live a full life and continue their legacy, because that was what they would have wanted. More than that, she owed it to them to find out who had murdered them and why. They had never done anything to deserve the horrific deaths they had suffered.
Carrie knew then what she had to do. After she picked herself up off the floor, she shut the closet door. Then she moved around beside the gun cabinet and pushed against it. It was too heavy to slide across the carpet, which just buckled up in front of it, but she kept pushing, bracing herself against the wall and shoving with everything she had until the carpet ripped loose from the tackboard and the cabinet slid away from the wall slightly.
With renewed determination, Carrie slowly worked the cabinet back and forth until it blocked the closet door shut. There was just enough room between the wall and the cabinet for her to slip into. She squeezed herself into the small gap and sat down, her knees pulled up against her chest. Her only hope was that if someone did break in, they wouldn’t search the house thoroughly enough to find her in the narrow recess behind the heavy cabinet.
It wasn’t much, but at least she wasn’t giving up.
And that, she thought, would have made her grandmother proud.
CHAPTER 34
Just sixteen miles beyond the town of Hungry Horse on Highway 2 at the western entrance to Glacier National Park lay the small town of West Glacier. While called a town, it was really nothing more than a collection of a few gift shops—all built to look like log cabins—a small grocery store, a gas station, and an Alberta Visitor Center for travelers interested in crossing the border into Canada. In the summer, West Glacier was the western entry point to Glacier National Park and the Going to the Sun Road. The narrow, two-lane road snaked its way through the park, offering grandiose views of the majestic, snowcapped mountains and numerous waterfalls that plummeted hundreds of feet down sheer stone escarpments into crystal-clear blue-green lakes. In the winter, however, from early October until late May of each year, the Going to the Sun Road was closed, buried beneath tons of snow and ice in drifts and slides up to eighty feet deep.
During that time, travelers wishing to reach the east side of the park had to continue on past West Glacier, following the route of Highway 2, which dipped around the southern edge of the park along the boundary between Glacier National Park and the Flathead National Forest. The highway, which followed the valley that had been cut between the mountains by the Flathead River, ran roughly parallel to the river that had been dammed up to form Hungry Horse Reservoir. At the southernmost point of the highway just past the tiny burg of Essex, the road extended about halfway down the reservoir’s length before it turned back northward toward East Glacier, the Blackfoot Indian Reservation, and Canada. During summer and the peak of tourist season, the road was well traveled, but in the winter, hardly any traffic at all was found on the road.
It was at this point on the highway that a late-model Ford Taurus made its way along the lonely road. The sun had just dipped behind the mountains, the rosy glow of twilight slowly spreading across the sky. Snow chains on the tires made an awful clattering sound that echoed down the valley like the roar of a distant avalanche. The highway had been plowed, the snow piled in dirty mounds along each side of the road, but dangerously slick patches still lurked within the shadows of the mountain.
With the onset of night, the deepening cold pressed ever more insistently against the windows, but Tammy Knowles felt as warm and as cozy as she could ever remember having felt in her entire life. She looked over at Danny—as she had done countless times in the past two days—and in particular his left hand on the steering wheel. The shiny silver band was still there. Again, she felt the warm glow spread outward from the core of her being through her entire body—a tingling wave of absolute bliss from her fingertips to her toes.
Danny glanced over at her. He wasn’t the greatest looking guy in the world. In fact, to be totally honest, he was more than a little pudgy, with unruly brown hair, plain brown eyes, and the remnants of acne scars on his nose and cheeks. But he was sweet and kind, and he loved her for who she was in spite of her big nose and small breasts. He smiled, looking a little shy and embarrassed and perhaps even a little nervous all at the same time, which only made her love him that much more.
They had gone a few miles farther when a sudden thumping came from the back of the car.
“Ah, fuck,” Danny cursed as he looked in the rearview mirror.
Tammy rolled her eyes. He wasn’t exactly Prince Charming either. “What is it?” she asked, looking behind them.
“I think we’ve got a flat,” he groaned. He slowed and turned on the hazards. “I knew I shouldn’t have put the chains on so soon.”
“So what do we do?” Tammy asked, a hint of uneasiness creeping into her voice.
“Don’t worry,” Danny said. “There’s a spare in the trunk. I’ll just change it. We’ll be fine. The roads aren’t that bad, and we’ve still got the chains on the other three tires. Once we get to the next town, we’ll find someone to fix it.”
Just ahead was a scenic overlook complete with dozens of parking spaces and a little brick building housing the restrooms, which Danny pulled into. The rest stop had also been plowed, although not as thoroughly as the highway. Snow still clung to the asphalt in slick, frozen patches that made loud, crackling sounds as they drove over them.
Tammy looked out the window. Across the valley, an elevated train trestle crossed a deep gorge cut by the rapidly flowing Flathead River. To the right, in stark contrast to the rest of the dark mountain, a large white flank stood out in the gathering gloom.
Just in front of the car was an angled metal plaque detailing the area for tourists. Tammy opened her door and gingerly made her way across the icy macadam.
The marker was titled, “the Salt Lick.” The location was a favorite of mountain goats, which, in the summertime, came to the spot to lick the salt from the exposed stone.
Intrigued, Tammy looked at the Salt Lick, but there were no goats to be seen. The trees across the river rustled in the rising breeze, and the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end as the cold knifed across it. A shiver slid down her spine. She pulled her coat tighter around her and carefully shuffled back to the car.
She adjusted the rearview mirror in order to watch while Danny banged around in the trunk and pulled out the jack and the spare tire. He moved to the passenger side, and after a few moments, the back of the car began to rise. Tammy looked at the rearview mirror on her side. She could see his dark silhouette, which was lit up intermittently by the hazards as he worked the crank. At least the flat’s on the passenger side of the car, she thought. That way she didn’t have to worry about him getting run over, which she would have if the flat had been on the other side, even though there was hardly any traffic on the highway.
Danny had the car jacked up in almost no time. With the rear of the car in the air, Tammy could no longer see him in the mirror. She thought about adjusting it to see better, but it was electric, and the controls were on the driver’s side armrest. Plus, Danny had them adjusted so he could see while he drove, and she didn’t want to mess them up for him.
A sudden knock at the window caused Tammy to jump. She turned and saw Danny grinning sheepishly. She rolled down the window.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “But would you mind turning off the car, I’m about to choke to death on the fumes back here. You can leave the stereo on. It’s not gonna take me that long.”
“Sure,” she said. After she rolled the window back up, she leaned over and switched off the ignition, leaving it in the accessory position. She turned the stereo back up to keep her occupied until Danny was finished.
Outside, it had start
ed to snow. The first big flakes blowing against the windshield began to melt almost immediately, but with the heater off, it didn’t take long for them to begin to accumulate. It was beautiful, but it also concerned her. They still had a fair ways to go to the Prince of Wales Hotel in Canada, and now that one of the tires was flat—
Thunk.
The car shook as if it had been hit by something. Tammy looked at the mirror, but it was obscured by the snow. She couldn’t see anything out the window either, except for the white ground, which lit up intermittently with the flashing red light of the hazards. She figured it was just Danny putting on the spare. Then she thought she heard him call out.
She turned down the music. It was silent except for the blink … blink … blink of the hazards. She rolled down the window and stuck her head out. “Honey, did you call me?” He wasn’t beside the car anymore; she could see his silhouette behind it. It looked as if he was hunched over something on the ground, but it was too hard to see amid the brief flashes of red light.
“Danny?” she called out louder this time.
When he didn’t respond, she got out to see if he needed help. The wind whipped her hair into her face. She pulled it back out of her eyes and looked at the ground, making sure not to slip.
The red light flashed on the snowy ground.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
The dark form huddled behind the car raised as she approached.
It wasn’t Danny.
It took a moment for her mind to grasp the horrific scene before her.
Danny lay on the ground, unmoving, his midsection a bloody mess that spilled onto the pavement, glistening in the light of the hazards.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
Tammy screamed.
The dark form turned in her direction.
She ran.
She didn’t even think about trying to get back into the car. She couldn’t think. Rational thought was gone. She didn’t know where she was running or if she might slip and fall or how long she could survive outside in the cold. She just ran as fast as she possibly could. She ran past the open door and the front of the car, across the beam of the headlights, and into the middle of the highway, her breath coming in harsh, raspy gasps, the cold air burning her lungs.
Blink.
Twenty feet in front of the car, a sudden, sharp pain pierced her shoulder as if she had been stabbed.
Blink.
She tried to scream, but all that came out was a faint, wheezing gasp as she was driven to the ground.
Blink.
CHAPTER 35
The faint glow of colored lights glimmered in a wet smear across the windshield. It was snowing, and the best the defroster could do was melt it into a half-frozen slush that the wipers smeared back and forth. From out of the darkness came the red and blue flashers of a police cruiser and a line of pink-white flares. Still bleary-eyed, Kyle watched from the backseat as a highway patrol officer used his flashlight to direct them forward.
The abandoned car had been found in the rest area off Highway 2 overlooking the Salt Lick, which would not normally have been such a big deal. In this country, because of the severe weather, it was not uncommon for stranded motorists to get a ride to the nearest gas station or back to town, where they could call for help or wait until morning. It was not common, however, for the hazards to be left on, the trunk open, and the passenger’s door left ajar.
The patrolman was bundled up in a thick, nylon parka, the hood pulled up and tightened until only a small portion of his face was exposed. He looked at the truck, and seeing the light rack and the county sheriff’s seal on the door, he waved them through.
Just ahead, the sheriff’s Yukon and the coroner’s Suburban sat beside a state trooper’s vehicle and a flatbed wrecker. Behind them was Marasco’s Expedition. No one had said anything about it, but Kyle wondered why Clayton had picked them up instead of Marasco.
The spotlights on all the vehicles were aimed at a maroon Ford Taurus. A group of three or four men huddled about the abandoned vehicle. Long, black shadows cast by the spotlights swept across the car as the men moved about.
Deputy Johnson pulled in behind Marasco’s truck and stopped. The police radio crackled as someone was dispatched to an unrelated call. Clayton reached under his seat and pulled out a big Maglite which he handed to Lewis. They stepped out into the blustery wind and blowing snow. Clayton pulled up the hood on his parka, and Kyle found himself wishing the FBI coat he wore was as well-equipped for such an environment.
As they made their way toward the car, the largest of the dark figures turned toward them. It was Sheriff Greyhawk.
“What’ve we got?” asked Lewis.
“Abandoned car with large amounts of blood in front and behind the vehicle.” He led them to the back of the car and pointed at the ground where a section of the pavement had been marked off. A large dark stain spread across the asphalt. A wide smear of blood trailed off toward the edge of the lot as if a body had been dragged through it. Small numbered tags had been placed on the ground beside the spots. A technician took snapshots of the area, the strobe causing the blood to flash bright red. Snow blew about, and occasionally, the technician had to stop and clear away some of the accumulation before he continued.
“Any chance they hit a deer or something?” Lewis asked.
“There’s no damage to the car,” said the sheriff, his deep voice carrying easily through the wind. “It looks as if someone was changing a tire. At first, the trooper who came across the scene thought that whoever was changing it might have been hit by a passing car, but the flat was on the passenger side. Then he found blood in front of the vehicle. We found this just beyond it.” The sheriff held up a small plastic evidence bag. Inside was a female’s wedding ring.
Lewis pointed his flashlight at the bag. “No bodies?” he asked as he looked at the ring.
“No, we searched the surrounding area as well as we could in the dark but didn’t find anything. From everything we’ve seen, it looks like there were two victims. In both cases, there are trails leading away from the area, as if the bodies were dragged part of the way. Then the trail just stops, as if they were picked up and carried away.”
“Any footprints?”
“If there were, they’ve been covered by the snow. But look at this.” The sheriff pointed his flashlight at the front of the car.
Mounted to the bumper was a metal trailer hitch that could be raised and lowered to enable the vehicle to be towed.
“You think it was being towed?” Lewis asked.
“It could explain where the bodies are,” George offered.
Lewis nodded and handed his flashlight to Kyle. Lewis pulled out his little black pad and made a few notes, including the number of the Idaho license plate.
“So you think someone had a flat on the car they were towing, and when they stopped to change the tire, someone came along and jumped them, stashed their bodies in the back of the motor home, and took off.”
“Maybe,” the sheriff replied.
“So we’re looking for two vehicles,” said Lewis.
“That’s assuming it wasn’t a hitchhiker,” said Marasco. “He could have caught a ride somewhere along the way, maybe even with the people in this car. Then when the car had a flat, he might have gotten nervous that a trooper might come along and decided not to wait.”
Clayton chimed in, “You know, people are a lot more likely to pick up hitchhikers in bad weather.”
“And who else would be more desperate for a ride than our old buddy Tucker?” noted Marasco.
“But how could he have gotten this far?” Kyle asked. They were at least forty or fifty miles from Tucker’s cabin.
“Hungry Horse Reservoir is just on the other side of that mountain,” the sheriff said with a nod. “And Jewel Basin is just beyond that. There are trails through the backcountry all the way from there to here. It’s a long way, but he could have made it.”
“There’s been plenty of time for him to get
here from the Joneses’ cabin. And if anyone knows these mountains, it’s Tucker,” said Marasco.
“Okay,” Lewis said, “we don’t want to jump to any conclusions here, but we need to get a message out to all the border stations along the Canadian border, telling them to be on the lookout for anyone fitting Tucker’s description just in case. And run the plates through the DMV to see if we can find out who owns the car.”
“I’ve already contacted the border agents,” said Marasco. “The car’s registered out of Idaho. The office is trying to contact the Idaho DMV.”
Lewis nodded as he took more notes. “Tell Davidson to get us any information he can regarding the blood types, fingerprints, footprints, hair samples, anything that can confirm or clear his presence at the scene as fast as possible. We don’t want to go running off half-cocked. The press’ll have a field day if we make the wrong call on this.”
Lewis took the flashlight back from Kyle and stuffed it and his notepad back into his coat, which he quickly zipped back up. “Damn, it’s cold,” he growled. “Any chance there’s any hot coffee around here?”
“Yeah,” Clayton replied. “In a big Thermos in the back of my truck. It’s hot, and it’s strong.”
“Just what I need,” Lewis said.
Kyle followed them back toward the truck. They were going to be here for some time still, and even though he usually didn’t drink coffee, he was tired and cold enough at the moment that he was willing to drink just about anything if it would help him stay warm and awake.
CHAPTER 36
Carrie was surprised to see sunlight sneaking beneath the closet door when she woke. She didn’t remember falling asleep again, and she was oddly surprised to find that nothing had happened. Her head was pounding, and her neck was stiff from the awkward position she had slept in. As she tried to stand up, needles of pain shot through her left arm and hand, which had fallen asleep. She groaned and began shaking and rubbing her hand in an effort to restore some feeling. Gradually, the tingling numbness faded away, and she was able to pull herself out from behind the gun cabinet.
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