A shovel lay in the back of Kade’s truck. Gideon gave another quick glance around, then pulled a glove out of his lightweight jacket. He slipped it on and lifted the shovel out of the truck. With long strides he went to his vehicle around the corner and got in. He tossed the shovel in the back.
Perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone here. That was an unfortunate but fitting metaphor, all things considered. He contemplated a plan that would make this Kade pay for his abuse of the natural order and let Eve know for sure her sanctuary had been invaded. The site of his first kill lay only an hour and a half from here. No one had ever discovered the grave.
He dug around under his seat and pulled out a CD. When the music of Tchaikovsky filled his ears, he sighed and leaned back to let the swelling instrumental sounds minister to him. With the song blaring out of the speakers, he made his way to Highway 45. The music made him drive faster, and it was only an hour later that he spied the national forest road he needed.
He hadn’t been here in five years, but he remembered the night he’d first answered his calling. Parking in the trees, he put on his gloves and grabbed the shovel and a plastic bag. A fifteen-minute hike brought him to the site, still undisturbed and peaceful.
Half an hour later, sweating and dirty, he carried his burden back to his vehicle and put it in the back. Now to find a worthy place.
GIDEON ENDED HIS PRODUCTIVE DAY AT HIS SANCTUARY. HE wasn’t sure anyone knew it was here. To reach it, he drove a barely recognizable path that was mostly covered with grass. Huge jack pine trees, stands of birch, and giant oak trees hovered in a protective canopy over the two-room cabin. And his angels guarded the place as well. It was as secure as any place in heaven or on earth.
The first day, five years ago, when Gideon forced open the door and stepped into the cobwebbed cabin that smelled of mildew and rat droppings, he’d known. Known it was his place. The heart of his plans, the soul of his new life.
Now, carrying a sack of groceries, he stepped to the porch and dug out the padlock key. It fit neatly into the shiny new lock and opened without a sound. Stepping to the single wall of cabinets, he set the sack on the counter and began to put away the food. He alphabetized the soups, stacked the boxed foods neatly so he could read the tops, then folded the paper sack and placed it under the sink.
Only when the kitchen was in perfect order did he allow himself to enjoy the main reason he loved it so. He made a peanut butter sandwich, pushed open the back door, and stepped out on the porch. A small, beautiful pond backed up to the cabin. The water reflected the spill of moonshine. Loons cried out. The tremolo they made had been described as insane laughter, but the deep, rich tones reminded him of a moaning aeolian harp.
His angels were here somewhere. He stepped down off the porch and strolled to the water’s edge. He’d known the minute he saw the pond that the swans he loved would hover over these waters like gods. Deep-throated cries came to him now. Sonorous like trumpets and just as thrilling.
They glided into the moonlight. Their beauty swamped his senses. Ethereal and glowing with white light, they came nearer. “My angels,” he crooned, throwing the bits of the peanut butter sandwich in his hand to them.
The darkness of the island in the middle of the water drew his gaze. He’d go there later tonight to make sure everything was ready for her.
AFTER CHURCH, ELENA ACCEPTED BREE’S OFFER TO TAKE HER GEO-caching. They stopped to pick up Naomi, then went out to the woods.
“We won’t stay out long,” Naomi said. “Donovan is taking me out for dinner tonight.”
“Are you sure Anu is okay with keeping Terri and Davy?” Elena asked.
“She’s in her element,” Bree assured her. “We’ll only be gone a couple of hours. She’ll let them bake cookies or something.”
Bree parked the Jeep along a bank of blooming columbine. Humming, she opened the back door and let Samson and Charley scamper out. The dogs nosed through the wildflowers and moss.
“This is going to be so fun,” Bree said. She unzipped her backpack and pulled out a GPS unit, then shouldered the pack. “Let’s go.”
Once in the woods, the clouds of biting, stinging insects descended to feast on every bit of uncovered flesh. The incessant buzzing alone was enough to drive a person mad. Only an idiot would endure this for the sake of “fun,” Elena decided, but she kept her opinion to herself when she saw the eager way Bree and Naomi plunged through the thickets.
So what did she enjoy most in life? The natural beauty of this place pleased her. Did she prefer art galleries and museums? Spas and manicures? Whatever she had been in the past, she could change now if she wanted, while she didn’t remember.
But it wasn’t this.
Elena’s nylon head net trapped her warm breath and added to her discomfort. “How much farther?” she called to Bree and Naomi as they started up a hillside.
Bree brushed her short red curls out of her eyes and consulted the GPS. She wore no netting, relying instead on insect repellant. “Not far. It should be just over the hill.” She pulled a handful of pistachios from her pocket and offered some to Elena.
Elena shook her head and turned to survey the hill Bree had indicated. Charley romped in last autumn’s leaves on the hillside while Samson rolled on his back in the vegetation.
“I’d like to find something fun today,” Naomi said. “Bree has been hooked since she found a rare Elvis album in the original sleeve.”
Bree’s smile flashed. “There are snippets of culture just lying around. You’ll be hooked too.”
Elena paused and looked toward the sky. The trees seemed to crowd in on her, and she found it hard to inhale enough oxygen. The peace of the forest should have soothed her, but her gaze kept darting from bush to shrub. Her ears strained for evidence of a hostile presence. What was wrong with her?
“We should bury something ourselves,” Bree said.
Elena tried to enter into the spirit of the hunt. “What do you have in mind?”
“Maybe something about search-and-rescue and dog training?”
Naomi punched her lightly on the arm. “We’re the only ones who care about that. Other people probably think we’re nuts. Hey, what am I saying? I think we’re crazy sometimes.” She swatted at the flies buzzing around her head.
“A lot of people are fascinated with what the dogs can do,” Elena said. “I had no idea until I met you. We could put in some pictures of your most memorable finds—like the day Samson found a body under the water. Well, that might be gruesome. How about when Charley found that little girl who had been missing for two days?”
“You’ve been paying attention to our stories,” Naomi said, her smile breaking out.
“A little.” Elena smiled back. She caught a glimpse of blue through the trees. She started toward it. “Hey, water. Is it a pond or a lake?”
“It’s a pond,” Bree said. “Real pretty. We could take a break and eat our snack.”
Elena moved through the trees to the pond. Once she was in sunlight, she’d feel better. She fought through a thicket and stepped into the clearing. Her next breath took in the sweetest air. If only she could stay here and not have to go back into the woods.
“Oh, look, swans,” Naomi said from behind her. “They’re so beautiful.”
At the sight of the beautiful birds, Elena’s knees went weak. She could almost hear ethereal music, but it must be in her head. She closed her eyes and listened to the melody. She began to move with her eyes closed. Behind her lids she could see a stage, and beautiful women dressed in white twirling across it.
She became aware that her arms were out from her body and she was dancing on her toes. Opening her eyes, she blinked and came out of her trance, if that’s what it was.
“You looked beautiful. What was that you were humming?” Bree asked. Elena hadn’t realized she was humming, but she could still hear the music echoing in her head. “‘Dance of the Little Swans,’” she said. Until she uttered the words, she hadn’t reali
zed she knew them.
“From Swan Lake?” Bree asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you dance in it sometime?” Naomi asked. “You were dancing like a real ballerina. Did you dance professionally?”
Did this mean her memory was coming back? It was the first clear memory Elena had had in weeks. She began to smile. “Maybe. I remember lights and a stage.”
The wind shifted, and Samson lifted his nose in the air. Charley’s tail drooped, and both dogs began to howl. In perfect synchronization, they raced up the hill away from the pond and disappeared over the crest. Their howls continued to punctuate the air.
Bree went pale and looked at Naomi. Both women wore expressions of dread. “What’s wrong?” Elena asked. Her fingers tightened on her walking stick.
“Maybe it’s a dead deer,” Naomi whispered.
Bree shook her head. “We know better. We’d better go take a look.” She and Naomi plunged after the dogs.
“What’s going on?” Elena shouted after them. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Reluctant to be left alone, she followed the women and looked ahead to the dogs. They dug at the ground and continued to whine and howl.
Naomi swallowed hard, and her gaze locked with Bree’s. “Should I call it in?”
“Let’s check for sure.” Bree stood a few feet from where the dogs cowered with their tails tucked between their legs. She glanced at her GPS. “I have a really bad feeling about this.”
Elena gulped, and her gaze went to the dogs and to the bundle they had uncovered. Samson was defecating. Charley retched and coughed. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.
Bree squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry you had to see this. The dogs have found a dead body. Human.”
“Are you sure?” Elena couldn’t bring herself to look.
“Positive. The dogs are giving an unmistakable death-scent reaction. The grave looks to be shallow. Samson, Charley, come,” Bree commanded. The dogs turned and moved to her. Both still had their tails tucked.
The two women approached what appeared to be a pile of rags peeking out from the dirt. Elena hung back, telling herself there was no reason for the terror that darkened the edges of her vision.
Naomi stooped and peered at the shallow grave. “Don’t get too close. We don’t want to contaminate the evidence,” Bree warned.
Elena swallowed the sour taste in her mouth and stopped about five feet from the bundle. A tuft of blue clothing that looked like silk poked from the grave. The detailing clearly signaled female. She caught a glimpse of white bone. The victim had been buried awhile.
“Elena, could you call it in?” Naomi tossed her cell phone to Elena.
The women blocked her view of the grave. Elena’s hands shook. She stepped back to the pond and punched in 911. Her trembling intensified, and it was all she could do to choke out their coordinates to the dispatcher. She managed to mumble the details to the man on the other end of the line, then she returned to Naomi.
Samson pushed his nose against Elena’s hand and whined. She rubbed his ears. “I’m okay, boy,” she whispered.
Bree touched her shoulder. “Are you really?”
“No, but I’ll deal.”
“If you want to go back, we’ll wait here for the deputies.”
Elena straightened. “I’ll wait with you.” Her gaze went back to the body. “Has Samson found many dead bodies?” Clasping her arms around herself, she took another step back.
Bree’s lips flattened. “Some. He’ll be upset for a few days. When we get back, we’ll play with the dogs. That will help.” She pointed toward the grave. “What’s weird is there’s a peanut butter sandwich on the remains. It looks fresh.”
“How odd,” Elena whispered. She felt the blood drain from her face.
Bree studied Elena’s face. “What’s wrong, Elena?”
Elena shivered even though the air was oppressively warm. She rubbed her arms. “Something about peanut butter.” Was it her imagination, or did she hear someone move in the thicket? She peered into the dark shadows but saw nothing.
“Oh, Elena,” Bree whispered. She moved toward her and put her arms around Elena’s shoulders. “This poor woman has been dead for several years. It can’t have anything to do with you.”
“You’re right. Of course you’re right.” Elena clamped her lips shut, but they trembled anyway. She could feel Bree’s stare, could sense Naomi’s speculation and concern. Lodgepole pine reached for glimpses of blue sky. She’d found solace in these quiet hills and valleys where moose and black bear still roamed. The peace of this place had been shattered. Elena knew it as clearly as if she’d heard the foghorn of Bree’s lighthouse home.
He’d found her.
10
IRIS CHEN IS SQUAWKING ABOUT THE PEOPLE WHO DIED LAST week.” Cyril tossed a manila file onto Nick’s desk. “She doesn’t seem ready to let it go.”
The picture of Eve was in Nick’s hand. He didn’t want to relinquish it long enough to look at the file his dad had brought in. “I killed the wrong guy, Dad.” He’d been immersed in the Gideon case.
“You only did what you had to do.”
“I know.” Nick rubbed his aching head, then thumbed loose a Rolaids and popped it into his mouth. “I was sure Bechtol was Gideon. Now we have no leads.”
“What about the geocaching group?”
“I pumped Zack for information, but he only goes with this small group and hasn’t gone to any bigger events. One interesting thing—the guy who found Eve’s remains was in Zack’s group.”
His dad paused. “You think he could have anything to do with it?”
“Zack says he’s harmless.” He turned the picture over and looked at it again.
Cyril saw the picture in Nick’s hand. “You’ve got to let it go, Son. There are no clues in that picture.”
“I like looking at it.” Nick put it down on the desk, but his gaze strayed back. “It was taken the night Eve danced in Swan Lake. He had to be there. The stage is in the background, and she’s wearing her white costume.”
“Maybe it was a media picture,” his dad suggested.
Nick shook his head. “It’s just a Polaroid. A news photographer would have used a better camera. This might have even been the night we met. I’d never seen anyone more beautiful.” He could still see her in his mind, his heart. So light, so fragile.
“Don’t, Nick.”
“I wanted to kill him, you know.” Nick stared into his father’s face. “I wasn’t aiming to, but I was happy when that bullet struck home, when he crumpled. He deserved to die. Iris told us he intended to force her to become his third wife. He was scum.” He slumped back in his chair. “But he’s innocent of hurting Eve and Keri. I don’t understand why he had the picture though.” He picked up the folder. “Tell me about Iris.”
His dad pulled up a chair. “She’s claiming there was no need to use deadly force to free her. I have no doubt you’ll be exonerated, but you’d better expect some heat for now.”
“I can handle heat. What I can’t handle is not knowing what’s happened to Keri. Finding Eve’s body was hard, but at least there was closure, you know? I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Maybe it won’t. Maybe Keri is alive and happy somewhere.”
“She adored Eve. She wouldn’t be happy without her.”
“She’s young. Children forget.”
Nick didn’t want to hear it. So long as he and Keri kept Eve in their memories, she wasn’t truly gone.
Cyril stood. “Your sister is in the waiting room.”
“What’s she want?”
His father shrugged. “She wouldn’t tell me. I fended her off until I had a chance to talk to you, but she’s not going anywhere until you see her.”
“Send her in. I might as well get it over with.”
His dad nodded and left the office. There was no telling what Layna wanted. She could have stopped by to see how he was holding up, or she could have come to cry on his should
er. Either way, she was a trial. He wished she’d go back to the way she used to be when they were growing up. The bitterness she held like a shield got tiresome.
At least she was smiling when she came into the office. “Hey, brother of mine.”
He stood and went around his desk to hug her. Her strong perfume made him sneeze. “Hi, Sis.” Stepping back, he pulled the chair away from the desk. “Have a seat.”
Dressed in black jeans with a red jacket over a black lace thing that Eve used to call a camisole, Layna looked cool and elegant. Her hair was swept up in some kind of knot on her head.
Nick went around the desk and dropped into his chair. “What’s up?”
“Does something have to be up for me to stop by and visit my favorite brother?”
“I’m your only brother.” He tried not to look at his watch. There was a ton of work on his desk.
Her smile widened. “I wanted to invite you to dinner tonight.”
“That’s it? You could have called for that.” She looked down, and he knew there was more to her intent than a simple dinner invitation. “What?” he asked.
“Um, I invited Jessica over too.”
Nick leaned back and blew out his breath. “Why do you do things like this?” he asked, careful to keep his voice down.
Her chin jutted out. “It’s time you move on, Nick. Jessica has never gotten over you. If Eve hadn’t moved in on you . . .” She bit her lip when he glared. “I think you could care about Jess again.”
“Layna, I’m not interested. All I want to do right now is find Keri.”
“She’s not even—”
“Not even what?” He stood. “Look, let’s not fight about this. I’d be happy to come to dinner sometime, but not when you’re trying to fix me up. I still love my wife.”
“Your ex-wife,” she pointed out, getting to her feet. “Nicky, she was never good enough for you. And she proved it with that affair with that dancer . . . Will, or whatever his name was.”
Rock Harbor Series - 04 - Abomination Page 9