“My guess is you thought Janine’s handgun would serve as a nice replacement for your ghost gun.”
He continued to stare, his trap shut tight.
“I bet you’ve been sitting here thinking your truck had already been searched and the weapon had gone undetected.”
I filled my water glass and offered to fill Shannon’s, but he sat stone-faced.
“So, Dave,” I began. “I combed the area around the lookout tower. That’s how I located Janine’s phone. But I didn’t find any gun. Of course, I’d be willing to drive back out there with some troopers, conduct another sweep of the grounds.”
“That won’t be necessary, Sergeant Blackthorne.” Hollis had returned from his search of Shannon’s F-150. He held a baggie containing a tiny pistol.
“What in the world?” I said.
“I’d never seen one before, but it’s a Seecamp LWS .380. It’ll be easy to trace.”
“Unlike a ghost gun,” I added.
“My God.” Shannon had ended his silence. “What the hell is a ghost gun?”
Once we booked Shannon and had him tucked inside the jail at the county courthouse, we headed for juvenile confinement located down the hall and around the corner from the adult jail cells. Phil Goss, head of the Juvenile Department, sat outside the locked room along with Bob Cole.
Bob stood when he saw us. “Maggie,” he said. “I don’t even know why my boy is here.”
“Got caught harassing mule deer. Out around Murderers Creek.”
“There’s a law against that?”
“Well, yes. Particularly when you chase them with a motorized vehicle.”
“He was chasing deer with his Fiesta?”
“No, Bob. An ATV.”
“Where in hell did he come up with an ATV?”
“We believe Dave Shannon had something to do with that.”
“What?”
I nodded.
“Okay, just tell me how much the fine is and I’ll see if I can come up with enough to pay it.”
“That will be up to the juvenile court judge.”
“Can I take him home?”
“I’m afraid we have to question him regarding another matter,” I said.
Bob turned to Phil Goss. “Does this seem right to you, Phil?”
“The officers have the right to question him. And if he asks to have an attorney present, you can hire one.”
“I can’t afford an attorney.”
“There’s legal aid,” Phil continued. “I’m sure you could get someone from the Pendleton office to represent him.”
Bob gave Hollis and me a look of defeat and disappointment. “This afternoon?”
I decided to interrupt. “I’d like to make a suggestion. We’ll get on with our questioning and see where it takes us.”
Bob sat back down next to Phil, whom I’d heard was really good with distressed parents and their troubled kids. I couldn’t handle that kind of work myself.
I knocked on the door to the confinement room, unlocked it, and entered. The room was small, a drinking fountain on one wall and a curtained-off lavatory in the corner. The kid sat at a metal table with his head in his hands, creating the heavy-hearted affect he might’ve intentionally strived for.
Hollis and I both sat across from the boy, and I turned on the recorder.
“Robbie, I’m Sergeant Blackthorne of the State Police, and this is Trooper Jones.”
“Yeah, you already introduced yourself the other day. And everyone knows who this brother is.”
Well, maybe he wasn’t aiming for a heavy-hearted affect after all.
“Brother? I must’ve missed it when Trooper Jones gave you permission to refer to him as something other than Trooper Jones.”
The little snot smiled and shrugged.
“Anyway, speaking of brothers, I’d like you to start by telling us about your relationship with Dave Shannon.”
“He says he’s my brother. Could be, but my old man was quite the tail-chaser back when, so I might have a bunch of brothers out there for all I know.”
Hard to imagine Bob Cole ever being quite the tail-chaser.
The kid continued. “I have no relationship with Dave Shannon. Followed me all over the place for a while until I got on his case, told him to stop fucking stalking my ass.”
“That’s his ATV you used to harass deer today, right?”
“The guy’s a sap. Says he’s buying a fancier one and giving this one to me.”
“Well, he’s just down the hall in a jail cell, so that’ll make it more convenient when he signs over the title.”
Robbie hadn’t expected that, but he pivoted and changed the subject. “Aren’t you here to blab on about the hardship I caused to innocent wildlife?”
“Not really. I think our Fish and Wildlife officer probably took care of all that.” I turned to Hollis. “Trooper Jones, wouldn’t you say we’re here to interview Robbie about a drug deal and a homicide?”
“That’s where we planned to start, I believe.”
“Whoa. It’s like I’m here with Laurel and Hardy? Their stupid movies were my favorite when I was in the clink.”
“Good to know,” I countered. “You might be able watch even more of them. We’ve already reserved a holding cell in the Eastern Oregon Youth Correctional Facility for you.” I hadn’t had time to do that, but it was only a phone call and ninety miles away. Plus we had now piqued his curiosity.
“What drug deal? What homicide?” the boy asked.
I Mirandized him, and he signed the waiver like it was one of his daily rituals.
“Let’s start with the homicide,” I said. “Someone was stabbed to death at the Murderers Creek Guard Station a week ago today.”
At that precise moment, I was overcome with exhaustion. Woozy and light-headed, I glanced at Holly, hoping he understood I needed him to take over for a bit, or maybe shuffle through his pack, anything to distract me from an urge to upchuck all over the juvenile confinement room.
Hollis seemed to get the message and cleared his throat. “Had you heard about the person who was killed out there?”
“No. I don’t pay attention to the news. When was that exactly?”
“Last Thursday, August thirteenth.”
“My dad hadn’t bought me my car yet,” he said, sounding like the kid he was.
I reminded myself to be wary of the slight change in Robbie’s demeanor.
“But you did go out there after the thirteenth, right? To the guard station, I mean.”
“Like I said, I didn’t know about any killing out there, but Dave told me it was a place I’d likely be free to smoke weed and stuff.”
“When did he suggest that?” Hollis asked.
“Off the top of my head, I don’t remember. After I got my car, I think, ’cause I wouldn’t have been able to go out there before then.”
I took in a breath. “Did you ever borrow Shannon’s red loaner pickup?”
“No. Pops would’ve had a shit fit. It belonged to the Ford dealership.”
“You cared about your dad having a shit fit?”
“Of course. I was just being an asshole earlier when I said that stuff about him, and me maybe having lots of brothers. My pops is all I got, and most of the time I don’t deserve him.”
“He’s waiting outside right now,” Hollis said.
The boy nodded.
“So, let’s figure out when you got your car,” I put in.
Robbie squinted his eyes, thinking. “My dad’s day off. Sunday, last Sunday, whatever day that was.”
“The sixteenth, I believe. Shannon also told us you go crazy when you get loaded, and that’s why you like going out to the guard station, since usually no one’s around.”
“What the fuck? I don’t go crazy when I smoke weed. And I’ve only been to the guard station a couple of times.”
“Do you go crazy when you use heroin? A bag full of drug paraphernalia was found at the guard station yesterday. That’s why I went out t
here, to pick it up. And then I followed you from the place.”
“I remember.”
“Your fingerprints were all over the stuff, including the spoon for heating the heroin.”
His pained expression said it all. “I…that ain’t mine.”
“Does the paraphernalia belong to one of the guys you met at the Burns facility?”
“Um, most of it, yeah.”
“Why aren’t his prints on anything?”
He studied that question for several seconds. “I don’t know.”
“Your prints are also on a green Proto tackle box found at the headwaters of Murderers Creek. It was stuffed with bundles of black tar heroin.” I let that sit a moment. “Oh, and I almost forgot. A local citizen from Seneca had reported that his tackle box, same brand, same color, had been stolen from the back of his pickup.”
Robbie paused. “I took it. The tackle box, I mean.”
“You were passing through Seneca, and you decided to stop at the town gas station and look for something to steal?”
“I was with that friend. He’s got an old Volkswagen Beetle, and it needed gas. I spotted the tackle box in the back of someone’s truck and swiped it, put it in the trunk of my friend’s VW.”
“This friend. Is that who most of the drug paraphernalia belongs to?”
The boy coughed. “Everything but the bong. That’s mine.”
“So you’re not into heroin?” I asked.
“I tried it once. Now that made me crazy.”
“Okay, Robbie. We’ve heard Shannon’s side of the story, but I’d like you to tell us about the drug deal now.”
He coughed again. “Can I get up and get some water?”
“Sure,” I said.
Robbie rose and shuffled to the drinking fountain. After he gulped down some water, he looked up at the small window high on the wall. The sky was an impossibly deep shade of aqua. “Do you think I’ll have to do another stint in Burns?”
“At the youth facility?”
He nodded.
“We can put you there in a holding cell, but any long-term sentence is up to a judge and partially Mr. Goss. I think some of it will depend on how cooperative you are with us. And I’d say except for your snippy attitude when we first arrived, you’ve been pretty cooperative. So far, anyway.”
“I’d echo that assessment,” Hollis said.
“Can I stand up for a while?”
“Nah, sorry.”
He sat back down and sighed only slightly.
“There’s a rumor going around that you’re dealing heroin,” I said.
“God. That’s just me bragging while stoned.”
“Are you sure? Shannon told us about your little mule run, as you apparently called it, to the headwaters of Murderers Creek. He said Vincent Cruise and Anna Jo Porter were supposed to leave ten grand in exchange for the narcotics.”
“It was just going to be that one time so I could get myself some wheels. My friend set it all up. The contact with the buyers, the middle-of-nowhere place to stash it. All I had to do was get something to store it in and get it to the headwaters.”
“But that’s a hard thing to do without wheels,” Hollis said. “That’s also where your new-found brother comes in, right?”
“Yeah. And he wanted half of my half of the dough.”
“Your friend you keep mentioning,” I began. “You know you have to tell us his name, right? And where he lives.”
Robbie recoiled. “He’ll kill me. I mean that literally.”
“No matter what, that won’t happen. Trooper Jones and I will personally make sure of that.”
“He’s older than me. Mean too.”
“Okay.” I dug a small notepad out of my pack. “And his name?”
He sighed. “His name’s Nick Cantor.”
“Cantor with a C or a K? And don’t forget about the contact info.”
“C. He lives in Boise now. I don’t know where. All I have is a phone number.”
“That will do,” I said.
“Your fish and game guy has my phone.”
“All right, Robbie. Let’s get on with the story.” I was dead tired.
“Nick’s at least twenty-one.”
“Not that story. What did you do with the tackle box after you put it in the trunk of Nick’s Volkswagen Beetle?”
He cleared his throat. “We, um, filled the bottom of the tackle box with the packages of heroin and some needles and stuff and then drove to Dave’s and stashed it in his truck—the one that ended up being stolen. Later that same day, Dave and I stowed his ATV on a trailer, hitched it to the truck, and drove out to Murderers Creek. He didn’t want to drive his new Ford pickup all the way to the headwaters, so I took the tackle box there using his ATV.” He sighed. “That’s it. Can’t think of anything else to say about it.”
The kid wore a yellowing white T-shirt and flared jeans in a stonewashed color long out of date. I didn’t think he was following a personal whim, style-wise, but I recognized a deprived and marginalized loner when I saw one. Even so, feeling some empathy toward the boy didn’t matter. This little chat was a ways from being over.
30
Late Afternoon, August 21
“Before we go on, tell us about today. The logistics. When did you get the ATV from Dave? And how did you get it out to Murderers Creek?”
“Um, he showed up at my house after Dad left for work this morning. Said he had a present for me. Drove me back to his place and gave me the keys to the ATV. He told me to be careful while I was on the highway, ’cause I’d have to drive a couple of miles before I got to some off-road.”
“Laycock Creek Road?”
“Yeah, that’s it. He gave me instructions on how to get from there back to the headwaters and, if I wanted to, the guard station. I made it as far as the headwaters. I…”
The kid choked up, looked at the ceiling, massaged his temples.
“I was so pissed. The tackle box was gone. All of it had been for nothing, and I’d be in trouble with Nick. I was good as dead.”
“So then you chased mule deer on your drive back to Shannon’s place to vent your frustrations?” Hollis asked.
“Seems like it.”
“Where’s the ATV parked?”
“It’s not. The fish and game cop had a large trailer with him he was using to haul his own ATV. Or the police ATV, I guess. Anyway, Dave’s ATV fit on the trailer next to his.”
“Chasing wildlife is not particularly healthy, therapy-wise.”
“I got that.”
“Moving on now,” I said. “What happened to the knife stored inside the tackle box?”
The color left Robbie’s face. He looked over at Hollis. “I wasn’t trying to insult you when I called you brother.”
Hollis nodded. “I don’t get insulted that easily, but I appreciate the apology. Now answer Sergeant Blackthorne’s question.”
“Why is Dave down the hall in a jail cell?” he directed the question my way.
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“He took the knife?”
“Did he?”
“Yeah. Said something like he’d always wanted that brand of knife.”
“The Buck brand?”
“Yeah, he thought it was cool, I guess. Is it valuable or something?”
“Only as evidence in a murder investigation,” I said.
“What the fuck? I don’t know anything about that.”
“Remember? We also wanted to talk to you about a homicide. Specifically, the police officer killed out at the Murderers Creek Guard Station.”
“A cop? You think I’d kill someone, and a cop, no less?”
“He was off duty, not in his uniform. Maybe he confronted you?”
“I’m just a pot-smoking juvenile delinquent, not a murderer.”
“And a drug dealer, don’t forget that.”
“I don’t understand why you’re talking to me about all this and not going after the two real drug dealers who took off
with all those bundles, the tackle box, and kept their money.”
“Why do you think they did that?” I asked.
“Because who else would’ve done that?”
I put my hand on the cold metal tabletop. “You really don’t check the news, do you? If you did, you might’ve seen that Cruise and Porter never made it. They crashed and died before they got to the headwaters. One of the other troopers in our office found the tackle box. That’s how I knew your fingerprints were all over it.”
The boy thought about that. “I remember now. Nick’s fingerprints probably weren’t on anything because he wore gloves when he put the heroin and other crap in the tackle box.”
“That makes Nick a better criminal than you.”
“But he wasn’t interested in taking the knife for himself?” Hollis asked.
“He said it was too big to carry around.”
Hollis nodded. “I’m curious about something else. Why didn’t you go back out to the headwaters earlier to see if the money was there?”
“Dave wouldn’t take me, kept saying we should wait. And I knew my Fiesta would never get me there on account of the steep climb and all the ruts in the road. Then this morning I figured I could just take his ATV out there on my own.”
“Shannon knew a week ago that Cruise and Porter had been killed driving his truck down a ravine,” I put in. “Any thoughts on why he wanted to wait to check on the tackle box, or why he changed his mind and turned his ATV over to you so you could?”
The kid shrugged. “Like I said, he just said we should wait. And I don’t know why he didn’t tell me those two hadn’t made it to the headwaters.”
I made a mental note to ask Shannon that question after we finished up with Robbie. I was betting he had used the loaner F-150 to haul his ATV back out there so he could check on the tackle box himself, and he hadn’t bothered to tell Robbie or invite him along.
I decided to switch the subject back to Cantor. “So Nick is an older boy who befriended you in the Burns facility and kept tabs on you until you were released.”
“Something like that. He was about the only friend I had there. On the outside, too, I suppose.”
Murderers Creek (Maggie Blackthorne Book 2) Page 28