by Emery Hayes
“If you had to call it, one way or the other, what would you say about Monte?”
She knew what he was asking, and she was reluctant to go there. But time—it was everything, with the possibility of solving the case dwindling the further out from ground zero they got.
“We aren’t going to find Monte.” She hated saying it, but the odds weren’t in the man’s favor. “He never made it out of the lake.”
“With Monte and Baker dead and evidence washed up in our crime scene, we’ve been handed a silver platter.”
“Yeah, a lot of loose ends neatly tied,” she said, her tone curling with distaste. “Is Green a pawn, or is he a player? The sooner we figure that out, the closer we’ll be to solving this case.”
19
The trail was a gradual uphill climb, wide and running parallel to a fork of the Astum River. Jordan and his troop would be grading patches in the footpath that winter weather had torn apart and spreading new seed from several indigenous plants that were threatened in the area. It was all good, except that it was too close to Nicole’s crime scene on Lake Maria. A mile as the crow flies to the trailhead from where she stood amid the gathering of evidence, and she couldn’t shake the uneasiness that seemed to be tapping her on the shoulder.
“Sheriff?”
Nicole turned. Ty Watts had emerged from the woods and was walking down the small stretch of sand toward her. An evidence bag dangling from one hand and a wide smile on his face were her first clues that he’d made an important discovery.
“What do you have, Ty?”
He stopped beside her and held up the bag. “I saw something in the grass. It’s pretty thick in there and the sun doesn’t always make it through, but it did this time.”
“What is it?” Nicole caught the bottom edge of the bag and lifted it closer. “Not a button, exactly.”
“No. It’s a bronze pin. Monte wore one. It commemorates the tragedy at Royale. Monte served there, was right in the thick of it, and almost single-handedly brought it to an end.”
The Isle of Royale tragedy. BP had lost seven agents in that ambush. An island and national park in the northwestern corner of Lake Superior, the Isle of Royale had been the setting of a deadly gun battle involving several boats loaded with immigrants, both undocumented and papered, and an unsuspecting handful of border agents. Reinforcements had wasted no time moving in but were met with a barrage of shoulder-fired missiles. It had happened eleven or twelve years ago, when Nicole was still a detective with the Denver PD. She turned the pin over in her hand, still wrapped in its glassine evidence bag. Etched into the metal was a five-point star, in the center of which was the torch carried by the Statue of Liberty.
“I didn’t know Monte had been involved in it,” she said.
“He was a hero,” Ty said. “And that’s why finding this is so important.”
“Tell me why, exactly.”
“It’s bronze. Monte and one other agent—Monte’s partner at the time—were pinned with bronze. The others—four of them—are brass.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I asked him once, when I noticed the pin.”
She caught Ty’s gaze.
“So Monte passed through,” she said. “He made it to shore and got at least as far as the woods. Or that’s what we’re supposed to believe.”
“You doubt it?” he asked.
“Where exactly did you find this?”
He turned toward the woods and pointed. “About a third of a mile in, northeast trajectory.”
How convenient, she thought. On parallel with the worn path up and over the Canadian border.
Nicole gazed again at the image in the metal. The torch, lighting the way to freedom. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
“We’ll see what Arthur can get from it,” she said, though she felt little enthusiasm about it. Any of the BP agents on site could have planted the pin. It could have come off Monte’s jacket that was found washed up close by.
“I’m on my way,” he said.
But Nicole stopped him. “You and Monte run that water safety class together, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. We work on the trails too.”
“So you know him a little better than I do,” she said. “How long has Monte been stationed in Blue Mesa?”
Ty shook his head. “He never said. Not to me, anyway. We didn’t hang out outside of work, and he was pretty quiet when we volunteered together.”
“There’s speculation Monte and Agent Baker were romantically involved. Did you ever have reason to suspect that?”
Ty gave it some consideration. “He never said. We were out at the creeks a few weeks ago—there was overflow wiping out the beaver dams—and he was more talkative than usual. Happier.”
“What did he talk about?”
“The red-winged starling. It’s making a comeback. The clean air. He said he didn’t think he’d ever leave it, this part of the country. Promotion opportunities had come and gone and he let them pass without regret, solid with the decision until recently.”
“He said that?”
Ty nodded. “Not like it was a serious consideration, leaving. More like he knew there was more out there, but he wasn’t interested except—” Ty paused, considering his next words. “Well, yeah, maybe he is involved with someone. Someone who isn’t local or a woman who was moving on.” He nodded. “Was Agent Baker scheduled for promotion?”
Green had spoken about the necessity of moving one of the agents if a relationship had developed. But she really couldn’t trust the head of BP North to come across with any credible information, even if she asked him directly, even while looking him in the face. So that was a dead end.
“What do you think happened out here, Ty?”
“I think Monte made it to shore and Baker didn’t,” he allowed. “I think they were approached on the water by someone they knew. As comfortable and sympathetic as Monte is with immigrants, he wouldn’t let down his guard. Especially given the recent trouble out here and their find in the ice.” He thought quietly. “Whoever motored out did it dark, or Monte would have called in the activity before contact was made.”
In the party boat. Nicole could see that. Lights out and drifting on the currents. Powering up as they left the shadows at eight yards out and bearing down on the skiff. Maybe deliberately charging the BP vessel.
She thought about the timeline and the possibilities within it. She moved away from Ty, saying over her shoulder, “Check that in with chain of evidence.” She nodded toward a deputy who stood near the lapping surf, a large box on all-terrain wheels beside him and a clipboard under his arm. Ty took off in that direction, and Nicole continued to pick apart the timeline. They were thirty-six hours since point of contact with the BP skiff. They had a window of eighty-two minutes, give or take, when all hell had broken loose on and around the lake. In a town as small as Blue Mesa, it all had to be connected.
“What are you thinking?”
Lars had come up beside her.
“Pieces of the same puzzle,” she said, “and some of them are connecting. We have the edges in place. Center mass is the middle of this lake. We have Monte and the ice man.” She nodded north. “James Franks is executed and Adelai is on the run, heading this way. Deliberately. Why?”
“She was running toward help. She knew that.”
“Agreed. What else?”
“How did she know about the Embrys?”
“Luke Franks told them,” Nicole said. “Yeah, he’s a hard-ass BP agent, but she’s a pregnant woman and his brother’s girl.”
“I like that.” Lars considered the timeline, the pieces Nicole was placing in the gaping holes. “And Luke Franks sent his brother James to the house. Not to place him in danger but to get Adelai out of it.”
“But how does he know she needs help?”
“He knows his brother, the baby’s father, is dead,” Lars said. “And he knows who’s behind it.”
“We have at least a handful of
BP agents working against us.”
They were quiet as that sank in. Then Nicole continued. “Say they got ahead of us,” she posed. “They had the time. And they removed the pieces they could but had to leave something on the table because Ty and MacAulay and I had arrived on scene. Or maybe it’s Adelai. She has something incriminating, maybe she’s holding the prize, whatever that is, and she eluded them. What’s their missing piece?”
“Drugs or money,” Lars said.
“Or evidence that could identify and put them away.”
“Greed. Freedom. Life. All good motivators,” he agreed.
“I want to talk to Adelai again.” Nicole worried she’d been blinded by her own vulnerability, by memories of similar circumstances, and hadn’t gotten deeper into the young woman and her motivations because of it. “I missed something.” Something big. Especially if Adelai had been aboard the party boat.
“Was she evasive?”
“Hard for me to tell,” Nicole admitted, and watched just the smallest flicker of surprise spread across his broad features. “Could be new motherhood. Could be the fear of an undocumented alien when questioned by the police.”
Lars understood that. They’d both questioned their share of immigrants across their careers.
“She was cooperative but skittish too.” Nicole turned her back on the lake and the activity there. “Tell Ty he’s up. Go over the particulars of leaving him in charge. Touch base with MacAulay too. See how far he’s gotten with the ice man.” They were a full day into the thaw. MacAulay had to have something to share. “Then meet me at forensics.”
She started for the Yukon, but Lars stopped her.
“Hold up.” He fell into step with her and set a brisk pace. “For the record,” he said, “I expect the dominoes to fall.”
“A complete collapse inside BP North,” she agreed. Even the innocent would be painted with the same brush. The cast of suspicion would remain over them for the remainder of their careers, if they still had one to pull out of the ashes. “I called the attorney general’s office early this morning,” she said. It seemed so long ago that she’d been sitting at the breakfast table, with the sunrise scorching the sky and her son sitting close by, stealing the berries from her piece of pie. Those soft, sweet moments punctuated her life. Anchored her. “I left a message they still haven’t returned.”
“About BP, there’ll be few survivors,” Lars said. “And the guilty will be clawing their way out.” His tone was somber, weighted. “We need to be careful,” he advised. “You especially.” Because she was the leader, and any harm to her would cause distraction and chaos inside the sheriff’s department.
She nodded. “Comes with the paycheck,” she said, because under such stress, flippant was the best she could do.
* * *
MacAulay held the sleeping bag in his hands, testing the weight. He had one, of course, but it was standard. Purchased when four pounds was the lightest they came and forty degrees challenged its capability. This one was queen-size, so not practical for a Scout trip, but he liked thinking about the hikes he and Nicole could take together and the nights they might spend snuggled in the tent in this shared bag. She was starting to think along the same lines—he could tell simply by the weight of her gaze, the ponderous quality in her eyes when she regarded him. It was about time. They had been seeing each other for more than a year, all clandestine, and he was more than ready to go public and permanent.
“That is not at all practical,” Jordan observed, jarring MacAulay from his thoughts. Practical was the last thing he was thinking about, but of course he didn’t say that.
“I’m a big guy,” he said.
“That bag weighs almost nine pounds. You want to carry that on your back?”
Of course not. MacAulay nodded and returned the bag to the shelf.
“What’s wrong with the one you have?” Jordan asked.
“It’s a relic,” MacAulay said. “Too heavy and doesn’t hold up to the weather.”
Jordan moved down the aisle, reading the specs on the bags as he went. MacAulay watched him. The boy was small for his age but resilient. He had a soft center but was building a thick skin and was emotionally tough. That fiasco at Christmas had given him grit, and MacAulay was glad to see it. He pulled a bag off the shelf. It was blue with gray lining.
“ ‘Waterproof and weather-resistant,’ ” Jordan read as he carried the bag back to MacAulay. “This is what you need. It only weighs two-point-eight pounds and comes with a compression sack.” Both of which would make it easy to carry. “How tall are you?”
“Six two.”
Jordan nodded. “This has you covered.” He handed the bag to MacAulay.
“ ‘A comfortable sleep in below-freezing temperatures,’ ” he read. Cushioning at the shoulder and zipper kept out drafts. “I’ll take it,” he said.
They moved from sleeping bags to lanterns.
“No more oil and wick,” he said.
“Wow, that’s so yesterday,” Jordan said, and pointed out a few cons. “They’re too heavy, blow out easily, oil doesn’t last as long as battery.”
“Not to mention a fire hazard,” MacAulay said.
“I think your equipment might need a complete overhaul.”
MacAulay agreed. “I’ve replaced very few things.”
Jordan considered that. “Is that loyalty or laziness?”
“If it works, no need to replace it.”
“Actually, there is. Some things today are made better, lighter, more efficient.”
MacAulay chose a lantern that had four lighting modes, including a dimmer, had a sturdy hook for hanging inside a tent or from a tree branch, and was at least a pound or two lighter than the antique he had at home.
“You planning a camping trip?” Jordan wanted to know.
“Nothing solid, but summer is coming and the high country is calling.”
Jordan smiled. “Yeah, me too.” He walked toward fishing equipment, and MacAulay followed. “We’re headed up Sunburst, the Astum River Trail. Just one night. Eight miles up, plant seed along the way—this part of Montana is running low on golden currant and bitterroot—pitch the tents and bunk down, and then make our way out the next morning.”
“Beautiful trail,” MacAulay said. He’d taken it a time or two. It sloped gently uphill so it wasn’t too rigorous, but it gave stunning glimpses of Lake Maria and the Astum River. Astum meaning come here. The river made beautiful music and lured people to its banks, which were lush with tamarix and yellow flag iris.
“You want to come with us?” Jordan threw a quick glance over his shoulder at MacAulay. “We need another chaperone.”
“You do?”
Jordan nodded. “So far, only the leader is available. Sometimes it happens like that. Dads have to work the weekends, and some of us don’t have a dad who can step up.”
He shrugged, and MacAulay noticed a stiffness in the gesture.
“Well, count me in,” MacAulay said.
“Yeah?” Jordan’s face lit up.
“Absolutely.”
“Great.” He held MacAulay’s gaze for a moment, his eyes revealing both vulnerability and no small amount of scrutiny, and then he turned around and resumed walking. MacAulay hoped he’d passed the test. “You’ll need a decent backpack,” Jordan said, cutting through poles and tackle and arriving at packs. “One that will balance the weight and not weigh a ton itself. You have one of those?”
“I think I bought the one I have off an old gold-rush prospector,” he said, and Jordan’s face froze at the horror of it.
“Not really,” MacAulay said. He walked slowly down the aisle, looking at the possibilities. “But it weighs as much as a car, with about the same flexibility. I definitely need an upgrade.” He pulled an Osprey off the shelf and tried it on for size, checked out some of the bells and whistles on it. “Not quite right.”
“Try this one,” Jordan suggested. “Same brand as mine, about as light as a feather, and has lumbar pa
dding.”
It would set him back about $250, but it was worth it. He was building up his equipment and, more importantly, his relationship with Jordan.
He tried it on, had Jordan add some weight to it, they listened to a salesperson talk up its good points and its very small list of shortcomings, and then he bought it, along with the sleeping bag, the lantern, some freeze-dried food packets, a rain tarp, warming crystals for his hands and feet, and a new water bottle complete with a cleaning filter. He had a relatively new, flyweight, two-person tent that rolled up like an umbrella and could be stashed in the pack no problem.
“I think I’m ready,” he said.
They checked out and headed for the car.
“It’ll take a couple trips to break even with all you spent today,” Jordan said. He juggled his own purchases while opening the door for MacAulay. “But then it’ll be sweet.”
“It’ll pay for itself by end of summer,” MacAulay promised. And he hoped both Nicole and Jordan would help him with that. Long camping weekends and bigger trips into the national parks, the three of them learning to fit together as a family.
20
Adelai was gone. Nicole received the radio transmission from dispatch as she turned into the hospital parking lot. It was a busy day and a small facility, and she didn’t expect to stay long under the circumstances, so she parked the Yukon in the red and climbed out to meet her deputy, who was pacing the sidewalk in front of the ER.
“I called it in as soon as I realized what she was up to,” her deputy explained. “She had a visitor, but no problem with that, right? Everyone in the hospital gets visitors. So I didn’t notice right away, not until a nurse walked in announcing ‘discharge papers.’ I took a peek in and noticed Ms. Amari was all packed up and ready to go.” He let out a long, anxious breath that Nicole found concerning, given the mild circumstances and his response to them. He was a rookie, with six months on the job, but he should have had more stamina than this. “The doctor said she was ready for release and she wasn’t under arrest, so what could I do?” he finished.