Abductors Conspiracy

by Frakes, Jonathan

  McCallum nodded. "So how'd they know whose camp this was?"

  Holt laughed, his voice echoing through the hot air and pine trees. "Most smart folks hiking in here check in at the ranger station, or at one of the bordering ranches before they ever get near these mountains. These two kids were no dummies. They followed all the rules and checked in with the ranger at Dagger Falls. No one had started down this trail since they had."

  "So what happened next?"

  Holt shrugged. "Bob came back down here and started scouting the nearby area. By this time the following morning the state police and I were in here. We studied the place and then called in the state Search and Rescue. All without luck. When we called off the search two days later, we packed up their camp and hauled it out."

  McCallum thanked the sheriff and then turned and walked up the hill. The slope angled upward quickly until it turned into an almost vertical mountain wall disappearing up into the blue sky. McCallum couldn't imagine anyone going up that, for any reason. He'd only gone a hundred feet, and maybe climbed forty, and he was sweating like mad again.

  He turned around and stared back down through the trees. Holt had moved down to where Mr. Harris and Arthur sat. McCallum could see the blue water of the river, and on the other side of the river almost vertical rock-covered mountains.

  No way out.

  So where did those kids go?

  McCallum made his way between thin pine trees and over rocks back down to the trail, sweating as he went. As he approached the group Holt again handed him the water bottle and this time McCallum didn't refuse.

  "I assume the Search and Rescue people covered the mountains," McCallum asked.

  "On foot where they could," Holt said. "The rest with two helicopters."

  "And downriver?" McCallum asked.

  Holt nodded. "All the way down to where the river empties into the main branch of the Salmon. That's about ninety miles from here, where the rafters get out. But two bodies would never make it that far this time of the year. Water's too low."

  McCallum again turned and studied the surrounding area, looking for anything, any clue that would lead him to figure out where those kids went.

  "It's a real puzzle, isn't it?" the sheriff said.

  "That it is," McCallum said. "That it is."

  There were only three ways out of this valley. The two kids could have walked back up the trail. Or they could have gone down the trail deeper into the wilderness. Or they could have gone into the river. Only three ways.

  It wasn't until McCallum was strapped into the front seat of Tom's helicopter, studying the trees dropping away below him, that it dawned on him that there was a fourth way out of this valley.

  And he was taking it.

  Chapter Ten

  In former days, everyone found the assumption of innocence so easy: today we find fatally easy the assumption of guilt.

  ——AMANDA CROSS

  FROM POETIC JUSTICE

  3:24 P.M. JUNE 23.

  PORTLAND, OREGON

  Claudia smiled at the mayor as they both settled into the booth in the back of the city hall cafeteria. There was only one other occupied table, on the far side of the large room, and most of the noise came from the dishwasher in the kitchen banging pots.

  "He agreed," Claudia said. "And he'll keep it confidential, as he does with all his clients."

  Janet smiled back. "Good. And please, no details as to how you convinced him."

  Both women laughed, then Janet turned serious. "I got a call this afternoon from the manager of North Hills Rest Home. He's the only one who knows of my relationship to Albert, and he's helping me keep it quiet on that front."

  Claudia nodded, letting Janet go on.

  "Two investigators from Seattle were there this morning, asking questions."

  "Seattle?" Claudia asked, startled. "Did your stepuncle have relatives there?"

  Janet shook her head. "There's no one but my mother and me. The manager said the two investigators presented cards from a company called Underground Investigations. He had them wait while he called both their office and the Better Business folks in their area. They checked out as far as he went."

  "So what in the world did they want?"

  "It seems they were interested in talking to the people who supposedly saw Albert get lifted into the air. And get this," Janet said, leaning forward as if to tell Claudia something really private. "They wanted to get a very recent picture of Albert."

  "Picture?" Claudia asked. "If they were investigating his disappearance for someone, wouldn't they already know what he looked like?"

  Janet shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. "It would seem that way to me."

  "Weird," Claudia said.

  "That it is," Janet said. "Tell McCallum. I've warned the manager of the rest home that McCallum's coming by."

  "He said he'd do it as soon as he got back this afternoon from Idaho."

  "Idaho?" Janet asked. "What's he doing in Idaho?"

  Claudia frowned. "He never tells me about his cases, which I guess is a good thing."

  Janet laughed. "That it is."

  "But he did say it was another missing persons case that he had to check some facts on."

  Janet nodded, then mumbled, "Tina Harris. Let's hope this case doesn't get that much press."

  Claudia could only nod in agreement as it suddenly dawned on her what case McCallum was working on besides Janet's.

  Chapter Eleven

  A mystery is something dark in itself which sheds light on everything around it.

  ——TIMOTHY HOLME

  FROM THE ASSISI MURDERS

  4:20 P.M. JUNE 2 3.

  PORTLAND, OREGON

  McCallum had spent the hour flight in the Harris corporate jet going back over the reports about the case more carefully than he had done the first time. He reread the four pages from the Search and Rescue, then the state police report, and the sheriff's added notes. Finally he reread the initial background check on Tina's boyfriend and on his family.

  Nothing.

  Usually he could see a place to start digging, or as Henry, his old doughnut-eating partner used to say, some string to pull that would start the entire mess unraveling. But with this case there was no obvious string and no "X" marking a good place to dig. At least so far.

  But there had to be something. He scanned through the reports checking off possibilities.

  One: Those kids hadn't walked out of that valley. Of that much he was fairly certain after seeing the area. They would have been spotted, since their camp was discovered so quickly.

  Two: If they had drowned in the river, their bodies should have been found by now, what with all the rafters going down it every day and the low water level.

  Three: There was zero sign of struggle in the camp, so however, or for whatever reason, they had left quickly. Either by raft or by air. And if they'd have been taken down the river by raft, they would have been spotted at the takeout point.

  The only conclusion that McCallum could come to was that those kids were airlifted out of that valley. But taken to where?

  By whom?

  And for what reason?

  There was no hint in the background of either teenager that they would do this purposefully, to run away from family.

  The entire thing was starting to give McCallum a throbbing headache.

  He gave Arthur all the files and told the kid to put them on his desk back at the office. Then he also told his youngest investigator to write up a report about the case, with any theory he might have, no matter how far-fetched. Maybe a young imagination could come up with something he had missed.

  McCallum swung by his apartment, took a quick shower, and changed clothes. He desperately wanted to just turn the air conditioner up to high, lie down on the bed, and sleep until the following morning. That nap on the plane earlier in the day just hadn't been long enough, and the heat in the mountains had drained him. But he forced himself out the door and by a few minutes before fi
ve was pulling into the parking lot of North Hills Rest Home.

  The place was a fairly nice-looking brick building surrounded by pine trees and flowering bushes. But inside it was nothing more than a standard nursing home, with stained tile floors, metal bars on the walls, and residents' pictures on the bulletin board.

  As McCallum moved down the hall he remembered why he hated nursing homes so much. The smell. They always smelled like a cross between too much disinfectant and rotting human flesh. This one was no different, and the smell smothered him as he approached the main desk. He knew he was eventually going to have to take another shower to get it off.

  The manager of the rest home turned out to be a sixty-year-old man by the name of Craig Wade. He wore a button-down yellow golf sweater and his tan slacks were stained with what looked like might have been someone's lunch a few days earlier.

  Wade instantly recognized McCallum's name and escorted him into a small, cluttered, and very hot little office behind one of the nurses' stations.

  And closed the door.

  McCallum watched the wooden door close as though it was a cell door closing on death row. He wanted to scream, Leave that open! but instead just sat down.

  After spending half the day in the Idaho wilderness's dry sun and heat, the last thing McCallum needed was to be trapped in a hot little office filled with the cloying smell of clean death.

  "I'm here about the disappearance of Albert Hancer," McCallum said quickly, hoping to get this over with.

  Wade nodded as he sat down across the desk from McCallum. "I know. The mayor told me this morning that I should open all my files to you about Albert. Anything I can do to help. Anything at all. Please just ask."

  McCallum wanted to say, Start by opening the damn door. But he didn't. Instead he said, "Good. I appreciate that. First I'd like to talk to those who last saw Mr. Hancer."

  Anything to get out of this hot office, but he didn't say that, either.

  "You don't really believe," Wade said, leaning forward and whispering as if his office was bugged, "that Albert was abducted by aliens, do you?"

  McCallum laughed. "I've seen a lot of strange things during my years on the force and working as an investigator. And not once have I seen an alien from space."

  "Good," Wade said, acting relieved. "Those investigators this morning seemed to think he was. And I just can't have that getting out about North Hills Rest Home. It wouldn't be good for business, you know."

  McCallum was about to ask Wade just exactly what would be good for business, when the fact that other investigators had already been here hit him. "Investigators from the police?"

  Wade shook his head. "No. They were from Seattle. Here, I've got their card. I made a few calls before I talked to them, and they seemed to check out."

  He shuffled the pile on the top of his desk for a moment and miraculously came up with a small business card, which he handed to McCallum. It was a simple brown card with the words "Underground Investigations" printed in block letters across the top. Two names were underneath, along with a Seattle address and phone number. McCallum didn't recognize either name, but that didn't mean anything.

  "Why did you say they believed Mr. Hancer was abducted by aliens?"

  "They came right out and said so," Wade said. "And all their questions were about that aspect of Albert's disappearance. They didn't even know what Albert looked like. Had to ask me for a picture."

  The heat was slowly turning McCallum into a melting puddle. He had to get out of this office or they were going to have to carry him out. He stood. "Can I keep this card?"

  Wade stood also. "Sure. I don't see why not."

  "Good," McCallum said, stuffing the card in his pocket. "Now, if you'd be so kind, would you show me where Albert was last seen?"

  "Be glad to," Wade said. "Any excuse to get out of this damn hot office."

  McCallum managed not to laugh as Wade intently went around his cluttered desk and opened the door. The cool air over McCallum's face sent drops of water down his forehead and neck. Not only was he going to have to take a shower to get the nursing home smell off, now he needed another one in general.

  Wade led the way down a wide hallway with doors opened on either side. All the rooms were lived in, but empty.

  "Everyone's at dinner at the moment," Wade said by way of explanation.

  Wade opened the door into an enclosed courtyard, completely closed in on all four sides by the nursing home. It was open to the air, and three large pine trees shaded half the courtyard from the evening sun. Two concrete paths led from double doors on two sides of the courtyard into a central patio area. Benches were scattered around the patio, all facing inward.

  McCallum had a sinking feeling as the manager of the rest home stopped and pointed at a bench on the edge of the center patio. "He was sitting there."

  "And I assume no one was with him?" McCallum asked, glancing around at the only two entrances into the courtyard. One was from the hall they had just come in from. The other led into a large room full of elderly people eating.

  "No, actually there were three other residents out here," Wade said. "On hot summer evenings this is a favorite place for many. You can talk to them if you want, but you won't get much out of Mrs. Hillary. She hasn't been with us mentally for some time."

  "Thanks," McCallum said. "So you're telling me that one minute he was sitting there and the next he was gone, huh?"

  "Well," Wade said, his voice very hesitant. "This is where it gets sort of… well, odd." He cleared his throat and went on without looking at McCallum. "Albert was sitting on that bench. The head RN on swing shift, a wonderful woman named Tamara Wilson, was working meds in the south hall, right behind us."

  Wade pointed at the door they had just come through, then went on. "She was standing at the med cart near that door. When she saw the white light she looked outside."

  McCallum remembered from the police report that Claudia had given him that there had been a white light that had lifted Albert Hancer into the sky above the pine trees.

  "The report said two of your staff saw Mr. Hancer disappear."

  Wade nodded. "One of our cooks, a Mrs. Petty, was busing tables in the dinning room. She also saw the light and saw Albert get lifted into the air."

  Now McCallum had a headache for certain. He walked to the bench where Albert Hancer had sat, then looked around. There was a clear field of vision from both doors. And no other way out of this area.

  Yet Albert Hancer was missing.

  Just like Tina Harris.

  McCallum tried to shake the thought of the two cases being similar, but couldn't. Two impossible disappearances. One out of a walled mountain valley. Another out of a walled courtyard.

  One in the middle of nowhere. The other in front of witnesses.

  Both impossible on the surface.

  He glanced around the courtyard one more time and the words locked room popped into his head. Of course. Both these cases were like locked-room mysteries. He'd read enough of those over the years to know that a simple explanation was always the way it turned out.

  Always.

  But McCallum wasn't sure he was going to like the explanation when he found it.

  Chapter Twelve

  The less you understand the greater your faith.

  —-R. A. J. WALLING

  FROM WHY DID TRETHEWY DIE

  5:50 A.M. JUNE 24.

  LOCATION UNKNOWN

  Tina Harris managed to force open her crusty, dirt-filled eyes. The aliens had knocked them all out again, most likely to take someone to experiment on. A faint memory surfaced of Jerry lying on a table with his stomach cut open and she forced it away. It was clear to her that she had been taken for experiments. But until they came for her she didn't have to think about it.

  Light was starting to come through the crack in the cave roof. Another day was about to start. She wasn't sure she could make it through the coming heat without more water. In five days in the cave she'd managed to get a
few handfuls of grain-like food each day and a few small bottles of water that the aliens had left beside the door for them. The grain seemed to have been intended for cattle feed and the bottled water every day was clearly stolen off a truck. The aliens must have felt that their prisoners never deserved anything from the alien ship, but only stuff stolen from other humans. Even though the cattle feed and bottled water was left every day so far, it had been nowhere near enough to make it through the stifling heat that filled this cave in the afternoon. It was as if she were lying in an oven.

  Around her she noticed that the aliens had removed some of the dead, but left others. It was as if they didn't really care what happened to those they had taken prisoner. And that made no sense to Tina. Why bother to kidnap humans if the aliens were only going to let them die?

  Tina sat up slowly, doing her best to ignore the intense empty pain from her stomach. If she was going to get any food, going to survive another day, she had to move.

  Around her a few others were slowly climbing to their feet and making their way toward the blocked mouth of the cave. They all looked like dirty, naked ghosts in the faint light.

  She used a nearby rock to push herself to her feet and followed the others. After five days she was no longer bothered by being naked. Staying alive was much, much more important.

  Near the door the aliens had left the same metal tub of some grain-like food. It looked like it was the same cattle feed. It would taste flat and stale, but it was at least food. She wondered what some poor farmer was thinking about his missing grain.

  Two cases of human-made bottled water. Spring water in blue bottles with labels saying it was from somewhere in California. The aliens must have stolen the water from some truck or store. She didn't know why they just didn't give them water in buckets, but at that moment she didn't much care.

  With the others, she tore into the cases and grabbed a bottle. She drank a good quarter of a bottle before taking a breath. She couldn't remember ever tasting anything so wonderful. And it was even somewhat cold. All the other mornings the bottled water had been warm. .