"They probably should have been here by now," he said in his easy drawl.
The pestering thought returned. She stood as still as she could, fighting off the gravity, and focused as hard as she could on the thought. She didn't want to lose it again. The thought was that it wasn't Heath. She knew it wasn't him, but she didn't know why. The rationale behind her knowing it had slipped away. She'd misplaced it. She went to put her Glock back in its holster but discovered it had gone missing too.
*****
He watched them from behind a thick copse of trees. Heath waiting impatiently, Jules stumbling about drunkenly. Their recent mini-confrontation had ended. Pals again. Their backs were to him. It had worked out just the way he'd hoped it would. It wouldn't be long now. He fanned his collar to give his neck some air. The sweat on the inside of his collar was sticky. Getting here had been quite the workout, and he needed to settle his breath down. Once he'd caught his breath, he'd wait for the timeless moment.
*****
A handful of images drifted into Jules' mind. They were revelatory. The images had inspired the thought that had been pestering her. The images were of Heath and Dallin. She recalled the painful look in Heath's eyes as he watched the demise of the camp, and she remembered Dallin cleaning the grooves of his hiking boots with a stone. Hiking boots and speed loaders. That's what bothered her. And for a fleeting moment, it all fell into place for her.
"Wait," she said, feeling somewhat confused but having a moment of clairvoyancy at the same time. "You never applied to the FBI."
She'd said it accusingly.
Heath turned to look at her. One side of his face squinted at her in painful perplexity. He appeared to be suffering from the same state of confusion as Jules. "FBI? What? What the hell are you talking about?"
An incredibly loud sonic-like boom rushed pell-mell through the plateau causing Jules to lose her balance. She was heading for the ground again, though she managed to keep her eyes riveted on Heath as she fell. She saw something jettison from his face. It was the size of a golf ball with smaller bits accompanying it.
Chapter 44
The Calligrapher
He walked toward her, humming Highway Don't Care again. Back to Tim McGraw and Taylor. He couldn't seem to shake them. The Glock lay on the ground five feet behind her. It wouldn't be a problem. Jules was on all fours, wobbly as a senior on NyQuil, her head turned toward Heath. Poor old Heath. Who would have thought it would have ended like this for him? As for Jules, he couldn't help but wonder what scrambled thoughts were floating around in her fogged up little mind. She certainly hadn't seen this coming. He aimed the rifle into the air and fired twice more. Timing was everything.
*****
Traces of red tipped the hair at the fringes of the hole in the back of Heath's head. Blood. Jules kept staring at the blood-tinged hair surrounding the hole. She couldn't take her eyes off it. He's dead, she kept telling herself. He's dead. But still, she struggled to accept it. Accepting it was like trying to grab a handful of smoke.
Someone was coming. There were footsteps and humming. She was certain of that, or at least she thought she was certain. The thought occurred to her that she might be in trouble and should be concerned about it, but she found it hard to focus on whether it was actually important or not. It hardly seemed real. And even though it didn't seem to matter much, instinctually, she reached for her Glock and noticed her holster was empty. The gun had been there before, but now it was missing. She recalled that she'd noticed it missing before too. She wondered if she'd ever really had a gun or if it was all in her mind. A sudden silly laugh escaped her throat. She raised her hand to her mouth to stop it, but it was too late, the laugh had already flown the coop.
Someone pushed her down to the ground and sat on the small of her back. He'd stopped humming. She was pinned and couldn't move. She was sure of it. Her hands were out in front of her, but they were useless.
"Hot damn," he said. "This has been some kind of day, eh, Jules? Never thought it would be that bad. Miscalculated a bit on that one." The voice was familiar. "Got to say, I've been looking forward to this for quite some time now. There's a lot we have to talk about and not much time."
The voice was smooth as glass but shouldn't have been.
"We need to head over there, Jules," the voice said.
She saw a hand set the rifle in the tall, yellow grass.
The voice was oddly familiar, but there was something off about it. She couldn't put her finger on it and her mind wasn't helping much. Thoughts were rising in her mind before inexplicably disappearing as if they'd never really in the first place.
The weight on Jules' back was suddenly gone and she felt relieved. Someone grabbed her firmly by the wrist and dragged her over to a tree. She suspected it was the same hand that had placed the rifle on the ground. Jules was still on her stomach lying in a patch of long grass. She heard the click of handcuffs and could tell they were clamped around one of her wrists; she thought the right one. He turned her over onto her back and pulled her arms around the trunk of the tree. Then she heard the click of the handcuffs again.
He strolled over to where Heath lay, and he squatted down near the area that had blood on the ground along with a chunk of Heath's brain. He studied them closely for a moment. He picked up the chunk of brain and placed it at the other end of the blood trail. Then he wiped his hand off in the grass. He picked Heath up under the arms and dragged him to the opposite side of the blood spatter area, his head pointed toward the blood. He unbuckled Heath's pants and pulled his pants and his underwear down past his knees. He reached back into his fanny pack and pulled out a small brown bottle and a washcloth. He unscrewed the bottle and doused the washcloth, screwed the top back on and placed the bottle in the front pocket of Heath's jeans.
Jules was fascinated and confused at the same time.
Dallin came back and placed the washcloth over her mouth and nose. He didn't apply much pressure, but Jules jerked her head side to side anyway because it was what she thought she should do. The smell of the chloroform was mildly sweet.
He removed the washcloth and walked back over to Heath and tossed the washcloth next to Heath's body. He retrieved his rifle and fired it in the air three more times at odd intervals.
The scent of the chloroform lingered in Jules' nostrils. She felt slightly nauseous but thought the fog in her head might be beginning to lift. For Jules, grasping a thought was like fighting her way through a room filled with cobwebs to get at it. At least now, she was managing to hold onto a few thoughts. She coughed twice and her chest convulsed with the coughing.
Dallin put the rifle on the ground next to her and unlaced her shoes and slid them off her feet. He did so quietly and with great care like you might with a sleepy toddler. He unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them off along with her panties. He did it all with a conscientious attention to detail. He carried her clothes over to where Heath lay and folded them neatly and set them next to Heath, setting the hiking boots next to her jeans and panties.
Dallin returned and sat on Jules again, the buttock's area of his jeans lightly touching her abdomen and genital area. A film of sweat covered his face and arms. He took a deep breath. For the first time, Jules felt alarmed. He placed his left hand on her chest between her breasts.
"Whew," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "That was some trip across that ridge up there." Dallin's eyes shifted in the direction of the mountain.
"Gotta apologize about the chloroform, Jules," he said. A thin-creased self-satisfied smile had formed on his lips. "But everything has to appear just so. You understand."
He didn't look at her as he spoke. Instead, he scanned the surrounding area in every direction as if the mountains and the woods were his personal domain. Jules couldn't reconcile the man who was sitting on her with the Dallin she'd known.
He glanced over at Heath and shook his head. "Terrible news about Heath. Can't believe it. It's a really, really sad thing. I'm afraid Angela's going to
be shocked," he said. "Little Bethany too. Losing her daddy like that. I suspect they'll be devastated. Who would have ever imagined that Heath Conway would turn out to be the Calligrapher. I mean—and I say this as Heath's best friend—it flat-out blows my mind. Of course, in retrospect, Heath always was a bit of a hound dog. Should have seen him back in high school. Damn. Wasn't a skirt in Gideon High School that boy couldn't find his way into. Football hero, the good looks. Heath had it all. Look at him now.
"Unfortunately for you, Jules," he said, looking her in the eye for the first time. "Looks like you'll be Heath's latest victim. Here's how I see it. I'll be coming onto the plateau right about there." He pointed towards the path. "I'll see Heath with his hand clamped over your mouth and nose, his pants down, moving over you. I'll probably be in a state of shock at first. I mean, who could blame me? But then, even though I can't see the handcuffs, I'll notice your hands are behind your back, and you don't exactly appear to be a willing participant. Then it hits me. He's trying to kill you. Heath is the killer we've been looking for this whole time. The good news for you, Jules, is that I'll be obligated to do my best to save your life. You know, being a deputy sheriff and all. Of course, I'm not exactly sure how successful the rescue part will be. I mean, what should I do? Maybe I'll yell at him. Of course, I suspect Heath would just ignore me. Wouldn't be the first time. Maybe I'll shoot first and ask questions later, you know, like they do in the movies. Whatever," he laughed. "It doesn't matter. I'll figure it out. They'll buy whatever I tell them. Now, here's the bad news for you, Jules. I'm afraid I'm going to be a tad late to the rescue. But you can take solace knowing that I've killed the killer that killed you."
He smiled broadly.
Jules wondered about Caleb and turned her head in the direction they'd first come from, but there was no one there.
"Oh, no, no, no. That's not happening," he said. "Not this time. I'm afraid Caleb won't be saving you or anyone else this time around. Not with a bullet hole in his chest. When we're done here, I'll be rolling him down the mountain. Leave him for the infected. I'll say he went down to save someone and was bitten.
"You know what's really juicy, Jules? Caleb probably walked by AJ's grave at least a hundred times over the past couple years, and he never had a clue. She's buried ninety paces south of the hunter's cabin in a cluster of elm trees. Right there the whole time."
Jules mind was hazy and far from stable, but she was retaining more of what was being said.
Dallin suddenly slapped her cheek sharply with the palm of his hand. "Wakey, wakey, Jules. We don't have all day."
Jules glared at him.
"Ah. Anger. That's a very good sign, Jules. You're coming back, aren't you?" He sounded genuinely excited. "I can see it in your eyes. I didn't give you more than a third of a dose. Didn't want you to miss anything. Just needed you a little wobbly. We have so much to talk about. First, I think you'll appreciate how I went about drugging you. Been planning it for a while. Pretty clever if I say so myself. A hypodermic in the top of the Dr. Pepper can. Used a lighter to heat the soft aluminum up and the needle went right in. Heated it up again and the hole closed right back up again, like magic. Left a little dark spot but I knew you wouldn't notice it with everything that was going on.
"I know you must have a lot of questions. And I'm more than happy to answer them for you. But first …"
He picked up his rifle and fired it in the air again, its sound echoing through the canyon, or was it her mind? Jules couldn't tell. He set the rifle back down, and his hand returned to its accustomed resting place between her breasts. Jules glanced up and noticed the leaves being tickled by a transient wind. She mused to herself that the wind was a lot like Dallin's voice breezing in and out in her mind, coming and going.
It had become clear to Jules she was in trouble.
"If you're wondering, the shots will make them think Caleb and I are still trying to kill those alphas. That'll give you and I more time to talk. I'm sure you're wondering what happened to that na-na-nagging little stuttering problem I had. Slippery little rascal. Well, I lost it in college down at Dixie State. Her name was Melanie. A farm girl from Heber. Heber's a little town up north. She was quite the spunky co-ed. Strangest thing. Second time we had sex, I noticed afterwards that I'd been talking to her for a couple minutes without stuttering. I couldn't understand it." He laughed. "Thought it was a mistake. I'd always assumed since my father had always been a stutterer, it would be a lifelong affliction. I actually believed it was genetic, and it often is. But in my case, it wasn't. I simply learned to stutter from my father. I always was a quick study," he joked. "Wasn't genetic at all. That's when I realized I could unlearn it. Spent two years with a speech therapist while going to Dixie. Good times.
"Oh, that's right. I almost forgot. I did fib to you about the college thing, didn't I? And I will admit there were a few other fibs along the way. As for the college thing, I knew you might wonder why someone with a college education would speak like some uneducated local yokel from Hicksville. Here's the kicker. My degree is in English. I didn't lie about the online courses though. I did take those classes from the University of Utah. I couldn't tell you about my college degree and have you wondering about me, Jules. I needed you to be focused elsewhere." He laughed as if remembering something and shook his head mockingly. "Oh, Jules. You should have seen the looks I got from people when I got back from college. I was actually excited at the prospect of talking to people in my hometown without the stutter. But here's the thing. It made them feel really uncomfortable, no one more so than my dear daddy. He wanted to know what was wrong with me. People have such a hard time dealing with change. So, I went back to stuttering and that made everyone happy. As it turned out, it even made me happy. I discovered I liked hiding. I liked the feeling it gave me. And every few months I'd go down to St. George or Vegas or Tucson and let my real self play. Now that was fun. That's when I ran into George one night. He didn't see me, not that I wanted him to. Couldn't have him interfering with my fun. Of course, later on, my running into George that night would give me the idea of using him as my patsy."
He smiled broadly again and lightly tapped Jules on the chest with his fingers. "This is great, Jules. I've never been able to share these little details with anyone.
"Oh. I was wondering how you liked the Steppenwolf novel idea, Jules? I thought it was a nice touch. I'll bet that had you scrambling. I had Nikki give it to Caleb. What a helpful girl Nikki was. She'd do pretty much anything I asked since I was the one who provided her with her precious smokes. Poor, poor Nikki. I guess smoking really can be hazardous to your health.
"As I suspect you've figured out by now, I injected the GHB using my right hand to help implicate George and to eliminate myself as a suspect. The victims were unconscious, so that was pretty simple. Nothing special. Just needed to get the angle right. But calling you that night for our little Vegas side trip, now that was inspired. It was almost like you became my accomplice, providing me with an airtight alibi. Stuttering. Who would have ever imagined it would come in so handy?"
Jules twisted her wrists to see if she could free herself from the handcuffs. She did it instinctively but also with a grain of forethought. They were too tight, but she realized she was becoming more alert. Dallin seemed giddy. He was showing off and having fun. Jules needed to do everything she could to keep him talking.
"Sadly, Jules, I'm afraid we only have about five more minutes, max, before I have to get back to Caleb. Not sure how easy it's going to be to roll him down that mountain."
Jules made a concerted effort not to sound punch-drunk. "The bird," she sputtered out. "The hawk. That was you."
"That's right, Jules. And, if we're being honest, that's really what led us here, isn't it? You just couldn't let it go. You had to pry it out of Mayor Nichols. And see where that got him." He paused for a moment and shrugged his shoulders. "Admittedly, there was more to it than that. But old Larry, he just couldn't keep his mouth shut. See, he tol
d me about your little conversation. He wanted to make sure that he'd gotten all the details right. So, he asked me. And I have no doubt you were going to talk to Caleb if you hadn't already. I wasn't worried about Heath. See, I knew Heath would never say anything. He didn't believe that night had anything to do with anything. He certainly never would have imagined I was a serial killer. Heath kept quiet, thinking he was steering you in the right direction. Heath. Always trying to do the right thing."
He glanced over at Heath's body. "As we all know now, poor Heath never had much of a knack when it came to ferreting out criminals. I was right in front of him the whole time, and he never had a clue." Dallin laughed. "It's more than that though. Heath never would have wanted you to find out that he let Caleb take the fall. Caleb was the one waiting in the truck. He didn't want to come along in the first place. We had to talk him into it. And Caleb never knew I was the one who carved up the little birdie that night. No one seems to understand what I'm capable of," he said gleefully. "Caleb always assumed it was Heath. The two of them struck a deal, and they stuck to it all these years. Neither of them ever said a word about it. Heath and Caleb. What a pair. The deal was simple enough. Heath would stay away from Caleb's little sister, Denise, and Caleb would take the blame. Heath had been sniffing around young Denise, and she didn't seem to mind. That had Caleb worried.
"All right. Enough dribble about Heath and Caleb. I believe our time's up." His face became serious. "We need to move on to another subject. Where's Addy, Jules? Where have you hidden her? Even Heath knew you were behind her sudden disappearance. You do know, one way or another, I will find her." He took a deep breath and shook his head wistfully. "I couldn't believe it when I first saw Addy. So much like AJ. Shy, but beautiful in a country sense. And those freckles. Have to love those freckles. If you tell me where she is, Jules, I'll make these final moments a little easier for you."
Apocalypse Journeys (Book 2): Finding AJ Page 31