by Kathy Reichs
“Amazing,” Shelton said. “I wanna try that. Sounds awesome.”
“Believe me, it didn’t smell awesome. Bird funk nearly killed me.” But I had to admit, my bloodhound act excited me. These flares might be useful after all. Very useful.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Ready.” Pulling on a pair of latex gloves, Hi reached inside the crusty pack. A smile spread over his face. He carefully removed a crumbling notebook.
My heart leapt. Success! Unbelievably, we’d found a clue the police had missed.
I’d found it, thank you very much.
The journal’s cover was cracked, its pages rippled and swollen. When Hi lifted a corner, dirt poured from its spine.
“Careful,” I scolded. “The paper is disintegrating.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Hi set the notebook down, gently raised and jostled the bag. Out came a pencil and a barrette. Nothing else.
“Can you read it?” I crowded close, anxious to see if the journal’s pages were intact.
“Back it up!” Hi shooed me with gloved hands. “I can’t work like this.”
Reluctantly, I retreated a step. Inched forward again.
Using tweezers, Hi teased the front cover open.
Nature had taken a devastating toll. Rainwater. Salt spray. Bird droppings. The abuse had rendered the entries indecipherable.
Hi leafed carefully, a page at a time. Nothing was legible.
The air slowly leaked from the room. It seemed impossibly cruel, that we could locate Heaton’s notebook after forty years, yet be unable to read a single word she’d written.
“Here’s something.” Hi sounded excited. “Look!”
He’d reached the very back of the notebook. The last two sheets were better preserved than the overlying ones.
Hi was pointing at what appeared to be a sketch of a bird. The caption underneath was too smeared to read.
“What is that?” Shelton was tipping his head from side to side. “Robin? Woodpecker?”
“Eagle,” Ben said with conviction.
“How can you be sure?” I squinted at the wavy lines, barely visible on the stained page. It looked like any old bird to me.
“The body is uniformly shaded, but the head and tail are white,” Ben said. “And look at the beak. The talons. That’s a bald eagle.”
“Why was Heaton drawing eagles?” Shelton asked.
“Who knows?” Ben said. “Maybe she was super-patriotic.”
“There’s writing on the back of the page.” Hi squinted. “I think I can make it out.”
Peering through the magnifier, he read aloud:
I found them! A bald eagle colony! Three enormous nests, way up in a stand of longleaf pines, just off the Stono River. Who would’ve guessed that bald eagles were living on Cole Island? An endangered species, right on our doorstep! This is perfect for our science project. Abby will be thrilled! The University will probably send people to study-
The rest of the entry had washed away.
“Bald eagle.” Ben pumped his fist. “Told you.”
“Cole Island?” Shelton’s face scrunched in thought. “There aren’t any bald eagles on Cole Island. Hell, there aren’t any trees on Cole, much less eagles. The only thing out there is a factory.”
“This was written in 1969,” Hi reminded him. “Things have changed since then. Some moron probably clear-cut the trees.”
Data bytes connected in my brain.
“Oh no.” My hands flew to my mouth. “Oh damn!”
“What’s wrong?” Hi asked.
Ben and Shelton just stared.
“Don’t you guys see?” It all made sense. Brutal, tragic sense.
“See what?” Ben asked.
“I know why Katherine Heaton was killed.”
You could have heard the proverbial pin drop.
For a moment I was overwhelmed by the terrible truth I’d discovered. I couldn’t speak.
“Well?” Hi crossed his arms. “Enlighten us, Agent Scully.”
“Katherine found an endangered species on Cole Island,” I said. “And not just any species. She found bald freaking eagles! The symbol of America.”
“So?” All three at once.
“Heaton’s discovery would’ve been a big deal,” I said. “It was the hippie sixties. Everyone was suddenly into saving the Earth. Protecting habitats was a hot topic.”
“But that’s a good thing.” Shelton was clearly perplexed. “I don’t follow.”
I paced, thinking out loud. “Maybe someone was unhappy to learn that an endangered species was living on Cole Island.”
“An eagle colony would cause problems if the owners wanted to develop the land,” Ben said. “Displacing or killing the birds would cause mucho bad press.”
“Or maybe the birds were being raised illegally,” Shelton suggested. “It’s against the law to own or sell a bald eagle without a permit.”
“And killing an eagle is a crime,” I said. “The law even protects their nests.”
“Guys,” Hi interrupted. “I found more writing. Last page. There’s an entry at the top, then some chicken scratch at the bottom.”
I tapped Hi’s shoulder. He screwed his mouth sideways, but stepped back. I moved to the table and read to the group:
Only two more places to survey. Maybe I’ll find more eagles? That’d be groovy! But then I’m done. Some guy has been showing up everywhere I go. I’ve never seen him before. He gives me the creeps. Maybe I’ve spent too much time on remote beaches! Kiawah Island, then the Morris Light. Then, sayonara!
“Oh, Lord.” Hi looked sick. “Oh, God. That’s awful.”
“She was being followed,” I whispered, overwhelmed by sadness. “Why didn’t she go straight home?”
“What about the last part?” Ben asked. “At the bottom?”
“It’s harder to make out.” I repositioned the lamp. “Looks like the same hand, but shakier.”
I read the short entry to myself. Read it again.
This time I couldn’t stop them. Tears overran my lower lids and rolled down my cheeks.
“And?” Hi asked.
I didn’t reply.
“Tory?” Shelton’s hand found my shoulder. “What does it say?”
I stepped aside. The others watched me, confused. Then Shelton moved to the table and read aloud:
I think someone is below. I don’t know who it is, but I’m afraid. No one should be out here but me. I’m going to stash my journal just in case. Maybe I can hide.
My mind went numb with grief. I closed my eyes. No good. I kept seeing those final words written by that trembling hand.
I heard Ben punch the wall. Hi shift his feet. Shelton lift a hand to his earlobe. I was aware of these things, but apart. Adrift.
I imagined Katherine’s final moments as she scribbled that last terrified entry. I saw her rush to hide the journal, then turn to face her stalker. I felt her despair as she realized she was trapped high atop a deserted lighthouse. Alone. With no way out.
Katherine Heaton was murdered in the loneliest place on earth.
I palmed tears from my face, devastated, revolted. The scene in my head was so real, it seemed I was there.
I didn’t want to cry. I wanted to cry forever.
Then, I got angry. White-hot furious.
Okay. Go with it. Rage will work better than grief.
I despised whoever had done this. A soulless monster walked the streets free, thinking he’d gotten away with it. Callous. Smug. Untroubled by guilt.
I renewed my vow to Katherine. To myself. I will catch this killer. Expose him. Bring him to justice.
Make him pay.
CHAPTER 60
I woke early the next morning, on fire with an idea.
First things first.
Cooper.
A ten-minute hike brought me to Morris Island’s western shore. I checked my bearings, located the ladder bunker, and climbed inside.
Coop yelped when he saw me, tai
l wagging out of control. Popping up on his back paws, he tried to lick my face.
I snuggled his head, drank in his warm puppy smell. Then I grabbed his rope and challenged him to a tug o’ war. He accepted with vigor.
For a few minutes, my problems receded. Coop was bigger now, strong enough to roam free. Thankfully, he restricted himself to the uninhabited western side of the island. No one in our neighborhood had reported sighting a stray wolfdog. Yet. Coop needed a permanent home, pronto.
“Soon,” I promised. “You won’t be stuck out here forever.”
I wanted to stay longer, but there wasn’t time. I slipped out while the puppy was wolfing down his breakfast.
It was going to be another hot one. Halfway back to the compound, I was sweating up a storm.
I buzzed the other Virals as soon as my phone caught a signal. We met on the front lawn.
“Whose parents aren’t home?” I asked.
Hi raised a hand. “Mine went to temple. They’ll be gone until noon.”
“Then we’ll use your computer.”
“What do we need to research?” Shelton asked.
“Who held title to Cole Island in 1969. Maybe the owner knew about the eagles, or at least can tell us who had access to the island. It’s a start.”
“Good idea,” Shelton said. “We can use the PIS.”
“PIS?” Hi asked. “What’s that? Online dating for nerds?”
“Hilarious. I’m talking about the county’s Property Information System. Land records are accessible there. You can get information about deeds, property lines, whatever. The owners of Cole Island should be listed.”
“Then the floor is yours,” I said.
We hustled up to Hi’s bedroom.
“Hold on a sec.” Hi pushed aside books, dishes, and piles of dirty clothes, trying to make room for all of us to sit. “Make yourselves at home.”
“You’re a pig.” Ben held up a greasy plate. “This pizza must be nine weeks old.”
“I’ve been looking for that!” Hi winged the slice into his wastebasket. “It’s probably still good, but why take a chance?”
“Gross.” Ben moved to the other side of the room.
“Sir, I apologize. I wasn’t expecting company this morning. You’re free to find other accommodations.”
“Come on,” I said. “We don’t have all day.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Hi saluted. “Right away, ma’am.”
Hi booted his Mac, then moved aside.
Shelton pulled up the Charleston County home page and selected “View a parcel.” A black-and-white map appeared on the screen.
“This is a blueprint of the Charleston area,” Shelton explained. “It shows every property line.”
“Cole Island is southwest of Folly,” I said. “On the Stono River Inlet.”
“I’ll zoom that area.” Shelton magnified until individual parcels appeared. Cole Island remained one undivided block.
“Cole is a single piece of real estate,” Shelton said. “I’ll access the owner data.”
He clicked and property information appeared on the right side of the screen.
“Bingo!” Then Shelton whistled. “You’re not going to like this, Tory.”
“Won’t like what?”
“Cole Island is currently owned by Candela Pharmaceuticals, Inc.” His eyes found mine. “Ring any bells?”
“That’s the outfit that funded Karsten’s experiment,” I said. “Someone at Candela wrote the checks to him.”
“What could Karsten’s secret parvo research have to do with bald eagles?” Hi asked.
“Or Katherine Heaton?” Ben added.
“Candela must own the factory out on Cole Island,” Shelton said.
“Why would I not like that?” I asked.
“I wasn’t finished,” Shelton said. “I paused for dramatic effect.”
“Out with it,” Ben said.
“Guess who sold Cole Island to Candela?”
“Who?” I asked.
“Hollis Claybourne.” Shelton tapped the screen. “And it looks like he made a bundle.”
“Claybourne?” Ben scowled. “Are you talking about Chance’s father?”
“The very same,” Shelton said. “State Senator H. P. Claybourne, father of Bolton Prep’s golden boy. And it gets worse. Guess when Hollis made the sale.”
“When?” I had a bad feeling.
“January 4, 1970. Just a few months after Katherine Heaton disappeared.”
“Shady,” Hi said. “Heaton drops off the map, then Hollis sells the island.”
“That proves nothing,” I said. “It could be coincidence.”
Damn. That word again.
“It’s suspicious,” Shelton said. “Last night I searched the net, and didn’t find a single mention of eagles ever living on Cole Island. Obviously, they were never reported.”
I scrambled to make sense of things.
Chance Claybourne’s father, Hollis, owned Cole Island at the time Katherine Heaton was doing her school project. Katherine found bald eagles nesting on Cole. Soon thereafter, Katherine vanished. Months later, Hollis Claybourne sold Cole Island to Candela Pharmaceuticals. For boatloads of money.
What did it all mean?
“Can we learn more about Candela?” I asked.
“I’ll check the corporate records database.” Shelton’s fingers flew over the keys. “Bull’s-eye! Candela is registered in South Carolina. I can pull the filing documents.”
“That one.” I pointed to a PDF file. “Article of Amendment, dated January 5, 1970. That’s one day after Candela purchased Cole Island.”
Hi clicked to open the record. “Wow. This adds Hollis Claybourne as an officer and puts him on the Candela board of directors. They made him a vice president.”
“So Hollis sold Cole Island to Candela, and the next day they gave him a management job,” Hi said. “Sweet deal.”
“And no one ever reported the eagles,” said Ben.
“The eagles which are now gone,” I said.
“Replaced by a stupid factory.” Shelton’s lip curled in disgust. “What a bunch of jerks.”
Ben crossed his arms. “The Claybournes are involved in Heaton’s murder somehow.”
“Chance wasn’t even born yet.” For some reason I felt compelled to defend him. “And we can’t prove that the land sale connects to Katherine’s murder.”
“I sure hope Chance doesn’t know anything,” Hi said. “Because he analyzed our fingerprint. He could be playing us.”
Frick. Good point.
I put my hands to my temples. “Let me think this through.”
The boys rolled their eyes, but clammed up. They’d seen my concentration trick before. Eyes closed, I shut out the world. Focused on the variables. Ran the data.
Slowly, my brain gave me output.
I didn’t like it, but the logic was inescapable.
“Ben may be right.”
He raised the roof. I ignored him.
“So ... Hollis kills Katherine to stop her from reporting the eagles,” I mused. “Then he sells Cole Island to Candela for a ton of cash and a cushy new job. Heaton is buried where no one will find her. No one ever learns about the birds.”
I poked at the theory. Prodded. Turned it this way and that in my head.
Then I nodded. “It’s logical. But this all happened a long time ago. Chance wouldn’t know anything.”
“Don’t forget about the checks to Karsten,” Hi added. “Hollis is a bigwig at Candela. He might know about the secret parvo experiment.”
“So you guys think Hollis Claybourne is the one trying to kill us?” Shelton asked. “That those were his men at the bunker?”
“It all adds up,” I said. “Everything we know points to him.”
“But he’s a millionaire. A state senator.” Shelton removed his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. “Why would he need to kill anybody, then or now?”
“No idea,” I said. “But this all started when we fo
und Katherine’s bones. Only her murderer would be after us. And Hollis does have the resources to hire goons for his dirty work.”
I didn’t want to believe it. Chance’s father as our prime suspect? Madness. But the facts only pointed in one direction.
“Why would Hollis kill Dr. K?” Shelton asked. “If he was funding the parvo experiment, he’d want to keep the doctor alive.”
“To cover his tracks?” Ben suggested. “Karsten’s experiment was illegal. Maybe Karsten threatened to expose him.”
“Or maybe Karsten was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Hi said. “Collateral damage.”
“Enough.” I was tired of being jerked around. “We finally have a suspect. Now we need proof, not more speculation.”
“I doubt Hollis is going to confess,” Ben said. “He’s skated four decades so far.”
“Then we’ll find the evidence ourselves,” I said. “Today.”
CHAPTER 61
The boys agreed to wait at the Charleston marina. They didn’t like it, but there was no other way. My cover only worked if I went in alone.
“This is way too risky,” Shelton said. “What if you run into Chance? Or worse, Hollis?”
“I’ll say I dropped by to chat. Chance thinks I like him, so he won’t be suspicious.”
Hi grinned ear to ear, but made no comment.
“Anyway,” I added quickly. “Chance will be in Greenville all weekend for the lacrosse finals. And with the legislature in session, Hollis should be in Columbia. Today’s our best shot.”
“We don’t know if Bolton won last night,” Hi said. “If the team lost, Chance might already be back.”
“They’re still there.” I pulled up iFollow on my phone. “The GPS puts Jason’s lacrosse group in Greenville. All of them. The team must still be alive in the tournament.”
“Go Griffins!” Hi quipped.
“Chance isn’t part of your iFollow group,” Ben pointed out. “We don’t know where he is, and can’t track him.”
True. With his Stone Age cell phone, Chance couldn’t run the app if he’d wanted to. Which I’m sure he didn’t.
“But Hannah is still in Greenville, too.” I tapped my screen. “She wouldn’t be there without Chance.”
Ben frowned, but nodded.
“Someone is going to be inside that house,” Hi said. “Claybourne Manor has forty freaking rooms! The place will be knee-deep in ninja butlers.”