“It was not a big deal,” Service said. “We find people regularly. This time the lost one was fine. Often we find them too late and they’re dead or seriously hurt.” But it had been Allerdyce who found the woman, not him. Why had he not told Marthesdottir that? The old man’s thinking was impossible to follow.
“Well, I personally thought it quite a feat and certainly befitting a knight of the woods.”
The phrase made him nauseous. “But he never said the woman’s name?”
“No, and that’s too bad because I would have told him you fellows saved the last in a historical family line.”
“Molly Staff has no heirs?”
“No, she was married without issue.”
But Linsenmann told him she had a son downstate and she was living with him in winter. What the hell was going on? Service asked, “And Stafinski, Staff—Allerdyce never mentioned a lawyer we met with and how he told us all about his relationship with Wally Staff?”
“Not a word, and if I may be so bold, you didn’t bother to inform me either. At any rate, he and I were relaxing, and after we talked about the rescue he jumped up and left and said he’d be back later. The man is just not reliable by any standard human measure.”
Service tried to remember. Miss Molly had been borderline batty through the whole episode—convinced that the whole point of her sortie into the woods was to get to me. What had she said at one point? Her reason for walking away was that the woman who was trying to buy the property “want yours.” It hadn’t registered. Not hers, but yours, meaning mine? Everyone who had ever spent any time at all in or around the Mosquito knew the Service name was almost a synonym. That’s what she had to have meant by “want yours.” Shit, but “yours” can mean only one thing, that the Mosquito belongs to me? No way. “Fellow, if you don’t mind, we’ll load a thermos with coffee and run.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m hearing something I didn’t quite pick up on earlier and maybe I should have.”
He felt antsy without clear reason, a gnawing sense of dread with no specific source other than it had vaguely to do with Allerdyce.
“There was one other thing I told Limpy,” Fellow said. “I told him that everyone talked about what a beautiful red-haired kid she’d been, and he just about jumped out of his ever-loving skin.”
Service had Treebone’s truck started before his friend jumped in with the coffee. “Who said you could drive?” Tree asked.
“Shut up,” Service told him.
“What am I missing here?” his friend asked. “You’re amped up like you’re in payback mode. Something I ought to know going down here?”
“You’ll know when I know,” Service said, then backed out and raced away into the night.
Chapter 39
North of the Mosquito Wilderness Tract
There was a whale-shaped woman sitting on a kitchen chair in Molly Cloud’s cabin, duct tape around her mouth, her eyes free and wild and screaming. The woman’s skin was beet-juice red, and she began to kick and make the chair jump around. Tree grabbed the woman by the shoulders and said, “Easy, you’re okay.”
The woman said “Mmph-mmph-mmph” and kept making the chair buck.
Service left the kitchen and swept the rest of the house quietly and efficiently. He searched for Miss Molly and the old violator. My partner, reformed my ass! That miserable son of a bitch. Gagging and hog-tying a woman, for what? Maniac. Good god, they should fire my ass for ever letting him near my truck much less in it. What is wrong with me? My old man was the drunk. I’m not. I’m just a bunch of bad judgment.
Then he saw Miss Molly sitting on the bed in the back bedroom, a peaceful look on her face and a pink pillow in her lap. No sign of Allerdyce. “Are you all right, Miss Molly? It’s Grady.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice devoid of any inflection or emotion.
“Was there a man here?”
“Yes.”
“A man you know?”
“Yes.”
“Did he hurt you?”
No response. “Are you hurt, Miss Molly?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you hurt, can you show me?” He was looking her over trying to see if there was anything obvious. Nothing, no marks. Slow down your heart rate. How do you deal with people in this condition? “Did the man touch you, Molly?”
“Yes.”
Go easy with her, he thought. Call Harmony? Call deputies? No, not yet, she’s not hurt, do this yourself. Just take it easy here. Go slowly. “Where did he touch you, Miss Molly?”
She made a face and started to say something just as a scream ripped at them from the front of the house and just ahead of the whale woman, who charged into the room snorting like a bull and screaming, with Treebone right in her footsteps.
“She head-butted me,” Treebone said, blood dripping from his nose.
“I want a cop, get me a cop!” the whale bellowed.
“I am a cop!” Service yelled at her.
“With a badge!” She stomped her massive feet like a child in a tantrum.
He showed her his badge.
She shook her head, screamed “In a uniform!” and kept stamping her feet and raising dust. Miss Molly began to shake and cough and cry.
“I was assaulted,” whale woman shouted. “Me a decent person, assaulted and fondled by that toothless monster! He soiled me.”
“I was assaulted too,” Treebone yelled back at her. “By you! Calm the hell down or we’re going to calm you.”
“I am calm,” she screamed.
Service sucked in a deep breath. Who is this whale, why is she here, and why would Limpy hog-tie her?
The woman pivoted and threw a hard, straight punch at Service, but he saw it coming out of the corner of his eye and easily deflected it in one motion. He put an armlock on her and flipped her onto the bed where Treebone pinned her and said, “Calm the fuck down, superwoman.”
“I want . . . that . . . man . . . arrested,” the woman said, her breathing in gasps.
“Which man?” Service asked.
“That man, all men.”
Whale woman kept looking toward Miss Molly. “She saw him, ask her, she saw, she saw, she saw, she saw—the whole thing,” she keened, nodding toward Miss Molly, who sat calmly with tears sliding down the sides of her face. “Ask her, ask her!”
Service told the woman, “Miss Molly gives the same answer to every question.”
“Ask her, ask her, ask her.”
“You want me to put the sleeper hold on her?” Tree asked, still holding the woman on the bed and sweating from the strain. The woman was grunting and squealing like a captured sow.
“Not yet, this shit has gone way too far. Lady, please shut your mouth!”
The woman went silent, then started in again. “That old bat’s out of her bloody head.”
“Lady, the only person out of control is you,” Service said.
“And just who the blazes are you?” the woman asked him.
“The cop you wanted.”
“I hate cops.”
“Imagine my surprise.” Service told his friend, “Get her out of here. Restrain her if you have to.”
“I don’t take orders,” the whale insisted. “I give orders. The old bat pays me to take care of her.”
This is Miss Molly’s caretaker?
“You are about to learn how to take them,” Treebone said, then yanked her to her feet and frog-walked her toward the front of the house. Service saw his friend had a pinch-hold on the woman’s obese neck, the hold draining all the fight from her in a hurry.
Service returned his attention to Molly Cloud. “We’re really sorry about this. Everything’s okay now. Can I sit next to you, Miss Molly?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember me, Miss Molly?”
“We found you when you took a walk that one night.”
“Yeah.”
“Think before you answer this next question. Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure the man who was here tonight touched you?”
The woman paused and finally said, “Yeah.”
“Did he hurt you?”
She stared at her right hand.
“Did he hurt your right hand, Molly?”
She sighed. “Yeah.”
He looked at the hand, no marks and no sign of violence. As he studied her hand, she patted his shoulder with her other hand.
“Molly, is that how the man touched you, with his hand on your shoulder. Are you saying he patted you?”
“Yes.”
“The man was Allerdyce and he’s your friend, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “Nice man. Long time. Your daddy too.”
My father? Good god. “Allerdyce didn’t hurt you.”
“Yes.”
Dammit, think about how you’re wording the questions, doofus. “Yes, he did not hurt you?”
“Yes.”
“Did he talk to you?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me what he talked about? I know this must be really hard for you.”
“Yes,” she said. Then, “Yours.”
This stopped him. “Mine?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yes.” Then, with great deliberation and seriousness, Molly said, “They want yours, Grady. Want yours, yes.”
“Want my what?”
“Yours,” she said, her eyes burning with obvious frustration.
“Okay, Molly, we’re just about done. You need rest. But just so we’re certain, Allerdyce did not hurt you.”
“Yes, no hurt.”
“He patted your shoulder, affectionately?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
“And you did not feel threatened by Allerdyce in any way.”
“Yes, not.”
Good, this is connecting.“Okay, let’s try this one more time, all right? We need to be absolutely certain about this, okay, Miss Molly? Did he want to talk about me?”
“Yes. Yours.”
“Can you remember about what?”
In reply, she opened her mouth and ripped off a wolf howl so real it sent chills down his spine. What the hell? Oh shit. “Wolf? Miss Molly?”
“Yes.”
“Wolf Cave?”
She smiled. “Yes, yours.”
“Did Allerdyce go to Wolf Cave after he left here?” Did she mean the upper or lower cave and does it matter?
“Yes,” she repeatedly emphatically. “Yours.”
“Have you known Allerdyce a long time, Molly?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, Molly, come with me. We’re going to get you out of here and get the docs to check you out. Where are your coat and boots?”
She pointed at a closet.
“Tree will help you get ready, okay? He’s my friend.”
“Yes.”
Service went to the front of the house. Whale-woman was sitting on the couch glaring at Treebone. Service said, “Call Harmony for me and tell her to meet me at the jump-off point we used most recently. Same destination after that. Tell her to bring lots of lights and batts and so forth.”
“Got it. Should I tell her why?”
“Tell her I’ll explain it when we meet up. I think Molly is okay, but I want you to call Tuesday and take Miss Molly there. Ask Tuesday to get her to a doc for a check.” Service pointed at the whale woman. “I don’t know who the hell this woman is or why she’s here, but the Department of Social Services needs to jump into this clusterfuck PDQ.”
“Is Allerdyce all right?” Treebone asked.
“I don’t know, but I know I have to go find out.”
“He took off for that . . . location at night?”
“Remember, for him our night has always been his day.” He liked it that Treebone knew not to mention the cave in front of the whale.
“How you going to get there?” Tree asked his friend.
“The old-fashioned way, beat-feet, boots in the dirt.”
“Got to be five miles.”
“Done it before. It’s what I do.”
“As soon as Molly is squared away, I’ll drive back to your partner’s truck and hold there until you need me. Tell her leave to stick a key in the JoBox so I can have radio contact.”
“Good, later.” But one detail still sticking.
Service went back to Molly. “Miss Molly, some women called Drazel wanted to buy your property for a lot of money. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know why they want to buy it?”
“Yes. To get to yours.”
Get to mine? What the hell is she talking about? he wondered. No time for more of this. Got to find Limpy. She’s secure, focus on finding Allerdyce.
Whale-woman had her coat on in the front room and was holding out an open hand. “I refuse to work under these conditions. I demand to be paid.”
“I don’t blame you,” Service said.
“I’m not coming back. I want my pay. I earned it.”
“Doing what?” Tree asked.
“Caregiving,” the woman said.
“How much?” Tree asked.
“One hundred for pain and suffering.”
“For causing it, not receiving it,” Tree said. “Get the hell out of here, lady, and don’t let the door hit you in the booty. You’ll be seeing the cops. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m guessing if there’s an assault here, you weren’t the victim.”
The woman stomped out, grumbling and cursing.
Miss Molly was suddenly in the living room, pointing at the open door and the woman who had just departed. “Bitch!”
Service watched the whale drive away in her PT Cruiser. He stuffed his sweater into his pack and headed into the night in a modified recon shuffle. He hoped to beat his partner to the rendezvous. Otherwise he might have to pop out and scare the shit out of her, and he began to giggle as he felt the night enveloping him. Don’t think, son. Go, left-right-left-right, fly baby, fly like the owl: low, fast, silent, and deadly
Chapter 40
Mosquito Wilderness Tract
Wildingfelz was already waiting patiently by her truck when he popped up beside her. To his surprise, his sudden appearance seemed to have no effect on her.
She turned right to business. “Treebone didn’t say it directly, but this has to do with the cave, right?”
“Yah,” he said, sucking for air now that he had stopped moving.
“Cool,” she said. “I’ll lead.”
Before he could object she was gone and invisible, and all he could do was cinch his pack straps and start moving again, following as best he could, focusing his ears on the faint sound of her boots somewhere in front of him. She runs with the weight of a shadow, he marveled. Impressive.
Eventually he got into a rhythm and nearly slammed into her, but she blocked him with her forearms and jarred him to an awkward stutter-step stop. “Where in the hell did you come from?” he whispered harshly. He was pumping sweat and dried his forehead with his sleeve.
“Tired?” she asked. “Legs a little rubbery from all the exercise?”
“No,” he lied.
“I was right in front of you, kept watching your snail’s pace and then decided I’d better come back to make sure you were all right.”
“I just ran five damn miles,” he said defensively.
“Want me to take it easy on you?”
“Is that an age joke?”
“No, sir, not at all, sir.”
“I’m not a sir.”
<
br /> “I know, but it’s a customary address for elders,” she said and laughed out loud at him, and he couldn’t help but laugh with her.
“You’re gonna kill yourself running in the dark at that speed,” he told her.
“You sound like the mother in that old-timey Christmas movie: ‘You’ll shoot your eye out.’”
He started to object to her calling A Christmas Story an old-timey movie until it dawned on him that it was out . . . twenty-five years ago? Where in hell did the time go? “You should listen to your mother,” he reprimanded.
“I do when she knows what she’s talking about. She’s blind as a mole. I was born with something doctors call Sunshine Syndrome. The distribution of my cones and rods is different than most people. I’m what they call a quick-dark adapt, or QDA, with scotopic vision. My weird deal lets me see color longer in the dark than others.”
“Did I ask for a medical report? You could still poke out your damn eye with a branch.”
“Granted,” she said, “but statistically it’s more likely to happen to you.”
“Are you wanting a competition between us?” he asked.
“Absolutely not, but stop patronizing me. I’m your partner, not your baby-girl daughter. I have a father, and believe me, one is more than enough. Are we going to stand here and yack-yack or get to the cave and get on with whatever it is we’re here to do?”
“Cave,” he said, sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and took off after her again, content now simply to follow, with no need to catch her, even if he could.
He found her waiting for him twenty feet from the lip entry to the cave, holding out a water bottle.
“Thanks.” He took a long pull.
“You want to have a smoke and explain what we’re doing?” she asked.
“No,” he said and then, seconds later, “Yah okay, a smoke is a good idea.” Still sweating heavily, his hand was shaking slightly from exertion when he tried to light up. Wildingfelz took the lighter away from him and lit him. He puffed it to life and let the smoke find its way.
“That shit will stunt your growth,” she whispered and giggled.
“From this day forward, your name is Stealth,” he said.
“I prefer Harmony, which is a girl’s name, not Stealth, which is a spook plane. So, why are we out here?”
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