Shadow of Vengeance

by Kristine Mason

  “This isn’t good,” Rachel said after Jake walked away.

  “Nope.”

  “I mean, we ask Bill to get blood work done, then he coincidentally disappears?”

  “Into a river.”

  She leaned closer. “Even if we found him…dead, if he’d been drugged with Rohypnol and died Monday afternoon, the drug would still be in his system. We’d still have our link.”

  “If that’s the case, then it also means whoever took Josh is watching us.” He didn’t like that idea. At all. If the killer/kidnapper knew about them, what if, to retaliate, he went after Sean again? Worse yet, what if he went after Rachel?

  The thought of Rachel falling victim to a nameless, faceless serial killer caused a tightening in his chest. He had the urge to go all he-man on her. Toss her over his shoulder and haul her sexy butt back to Chicago where she would be safe. He wouldn’t, though. Not yet. Having this opportunity to work in the field was important to her. Even if he didn’t like the uncertainties of this investigation, he wanted her to succeed. He wanted her happy. Hell, he wanted her, period.

  Wearing camouflaged fatigues and tall, matching rubber boots, the man he assumed was Evan approached. Adjusting his bright orange knit hat, he gave them a curt nod. “I’m Evan Hart. Jake said you wanted to talk to me.”

  “How did you find Bill’s truck?” Rachel asked after she introduced them. “Were you hunting?”

  Evan looked to the snow covered ground. “That wouldn’t be legal. I was…thinking about testing out the new fishing rod my wife got me for Christmas.”

  While Owen suspected Evan was bullshitting them, he could care less. With the dozens of people and cars trampling the area, Evan was the only person who saw the possible crime scene when it had been fresh.

  “Did you see tracks off the road?” Owen asked. “You know, like Bill might have lost control of the truck. Maybe skidded on some ice or something.”

  “Nah, nothing like that. I parked up on Miller’s Run,” he said and pointed to the road running parallel to the river. “Got out of my truck and walked down that slope. That’s when I saw tire tracks.”

  “And that’s unusual?” Rachel asked.

  “For this time of year.” He motioned to where they were standing. “This isn’t exactly what you’d call a road. No telling how deep the snow is in the winter, and in the summer you wouldn’t want to drive down here unless you’ve got yourself an all terrain four-wheeler.”

  “Would Bill know this?” Owen asked.

  “Shoot, that boy grew up here. He’d know better.”

  “Okay,” Rachel began. “So you saw tire tracks…”

  “Right. Saw the tracks and followed ‘em. That’s when I saw the back end of Bill’s pickup stickin’ out of the water. The only reason I knew it was Bill’s was because of his Ohio State bumper sticker. This is Wolverine territory. Bill’s the only fool I know that likes those damned Buckeyes.”

  Considering Rachel knew nothing about football, Owen could guarantee she had no idea that Evan was talking about a college rivalry. “After you realized it was Bill’s truck, you obviously called the sheriff, but did you look for Bill?” Owen asked. “Maybe find any footprints in the snow?”

  “Right after I hung up with Jake,” Evan said. “I called some of my buddies who hunt and fish around here—when it’s legal, of course. While we were waiting on Jake, and for Bernie to bring his tow truck, we went about a fifty or so yards into the woods looking for Bill.”

  A minute amount of hope prickled his interest. “So you did find footprints.”

  “No. But when my buddy first got here, he roped me up and I waded out into the river to see if Bill was trapped in his cab. When I didn’t see anything, I was hoping that maybe he’d made it out. I just…I didn’t want to give up on him. He’s a good kid.” He looked at the river. “It’s too late tonight, but tomorrow we’ll check further down the river. The current might’ve grabbed him.”

  “When they pulled the truck out of the water, I noticed the doors and windows were shut,” Rachel said.

  Evan shook his head and crossed his arms. “You couldn’t see it from here, but the driver’s side window was cracked open about four inches.”

  “Which isn’t enough for a man Bill’s size to escape.”

  “No.” Evan half-chuckled, then grew somber when a tall, heavyset man rushed past them and toward Bill’s truck. “That’d be, Hal, Bill’s dad. If there’s nothing else…”

  After Rachel thanked Evan, and the man jogged after Hal, she hugged herself. “They’re not going to find Bill in the river.” She muttered something under her breath, then said, “And if this is a crime scene, it’s been completely contaminated. We still need to come back in the morning and—”

  Bill’s dad yelled and screamed. Kicked the wheel of the pickup truck. Jake rushed to his side, but Hal shoved him away and throwing his hands in the air, paced.

  Jake headed toward them again, his strides long and with purpose. At the same time, Bernie fired up the tow truck. Men cleared, giving the driver room to navigate the narrow path back to the main road.

  “Come on,” Jake said and motioned for them to follow him. “I want to follow Bernie back to his garage and take a look at Bill’s truck. I’m assuming you two want to come along, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Rachel said.

  When they reached his Lexus, which Owen had parked next to Jake’s SUV, the sheriff paused. “When I asked about foul play, you never answered my question, and I want an answer.” He slapped the hood of his SUV with a gloved hand. “Actually I want a shit-ton of answers. I’m sick of having this Hell Week bullshit hanging over my town.”

  Owen caught a flash of sympathy in Rachel’s eyes. “I wish we had some definite answers for you, Jake,” she said. “Let’s head to the garage and start there.”

  Jake didn’t respond. He climbed into his SUV and flipped on the headlights.

  Owen and Rachel did the same. And as they followed the sheriff back to town, Rachel said, “Jake’s pretty pissed off right now.”

  “Can you blame him?” As much as he didn’t like the sheriff, Owen could imagine Jake’s frustration. The man lived here, was sheriff, was supposed to be protecting and serving his community. Instead he was spinning his wheels with the Wexman Hell Week that had been plaguing Bola for twenty years.

  “No, I can’t. Especially because I think he suspects what we do.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “Someone wanted Bill dead.”

  *

  Two hours later, carrying her computer bag over her shoulder, Rachel made her way downstairs to Joy’s dining room. After Owen brought her back to the boarding house, she’d changed into her yoga pants and a thick, fleece sweatshirt. She wished she’d remembered to pack slippers. Even though the temperature in the house was comfortable, she couldn’t shake the chill still shivering through her body.

  When she caught Joy sitting at the table, her head in her hands, a Styrofoam cup, a magnum of white wine and a coffee mug in front of her, she paused. Sensing Joy probably wanted time alone to deal with her missing nephew, she took a step backward. The floorboard creaked. Joy raised her head, but kept her chin in her palm.

  “Hey, Shorty,” she said, her tone quiet, melancholy. “Go grab a mug. I don’t want to drink alone.”

  Rachel did as Joy requested, then sat next to the other woman. Joy unscrewed the bottle cap, then poured Rachel a mugful of wine. “How’d it go at Bernie’s garage? Hal isn’t answering his phone and I…” Her chin wobbled. “Damn, I don’t know what the hell to do with myself.” She topped her own mug off, then raised the cup to her lips.

  She understood what Joy was going through. After working at CORE for four years, she’d met plenty of distraught, helpless clients searching for answers, for closure, for justice. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any of those things to offer Joy right now.

  “The window of Bill’s truck was partially open when it went into the river. The ent
ire cab ended up filled with water.” She took a sip from the mug, then masked her surprise. Joy had excellent taste in wine. “Inside, we found the keys, which were still in the ignition, a duffle bag filled with Bill’s clothes and a lunch pail.”

  Joy stared at her, her red-rimmed eyes heartbreaking. “He always takes a change of clothes with him to work.” She cracked a smile. “My brother doesn’t know it, but Bill’s sweet on a graduate student at the university. She also works at the school library in the evenings.” Her smile grew. “I swear that boy has read—or pretended to read—more books in the last few months than he has his entire life. Anyway, he knows her schedule and if it works with his shift at the university, he likes to get himself all dolled up and pay her a visit.” She raised the mug to her lips again, her smile falling. “This isn’t good, Shorty. Hal’s wife died last year, cancer. Bill’s all he has left. If something happened…” She shook her head and drew in a shaky breath. “I love that little shit,” she said on a sob, then dropped her face into her hands.

  An angry, bitchy, bullying Joy, she could handle. But a wounded, saddened, grieving Joy? She didn’t know what to do. Hug her? She glanced at Joy’s wide, trembling shoulders. Pat her on the back? She raised her hand, then curled her fingers. No. She didn’t know Joy, but from what she could tell, the woman wouldn’t want coddling from her. She’d want honesty.

  “We plan on going out in the morning to search the river and woods again.”

  Joy raised her head, then wiped her tears and nose with a napkin. “Even if you found him, he’s been exposed to the cold for twenty-four hours. Do you have any idea what happens to a wet body when it’s out in temperatures below freezing?” She shook her head. “I’m so frickin’ worried. And pissed. I’m fucking pissed.” She threw the napkin across the table.

  Thank God the other Joy was back. She needed the woman angry rather than weepy. She needed her help, and didn’t think she’d have it if Joy went off the emotional deep end. “I’m pissed, too.” She took a long swallow of the wine, then slammed the half empty mug on the table. “I know you’re concerned and grieving over Bill and what your brother is going through, but here’s what you don’t know—and it better not leave this room—Bill was my link to whoever beat my brother and kidnapped Josh Conway.”

  Joy leaned back in her chair, her face turning as red as her runny nose. “You think Bill is connected to Wexman Hell Week? My Bill? Why in the hell would he be a target? I mean this out of love, but that boy isn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier, if you get my meaning. He does good as a security guard, but I can’t imagine why anyone would go after him. What could he have done to even—?”

  “His truck.”

  Rachel looked up to find Owen standing at the bottom of the steps. As he approached the dining room, wearing the same t-shirt and sweatpants he’d worn last night, there was the hint of excitement brewing in his eyes.

  “What about his truck?” Joy asked.

  And then Rachel remembered. Bill telling them he’d picked up the extra shift at the university to make the last payment on his truck. Bill coincidentally becoming ill when the boys had been kidnapped. The security camera in the residence hall’s foyer being moved. Now Bill was missing and his truck water logged and devoid of any possible evidence. “Oh my God,” she gasped. “He used Bill’s truck.”

  Owen nodded and took a seat. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

  “Who used Bill’s truck?” Joy grabbed the magnum of wine. “And what in the hell are you two talking about?”

  Rachel removed the laptop from the bag, then found an outlet. “Whoever took my brother and Josh,” she said and fired up the computer.

  The front door closed and seconds later, Walter strolled into the room, clutching his earflap hat. He immediately looked to Joy, who visibly relaxed. Her face softening with what Rachel considered relief.

  “Was wondering when you were going to be home,” Joy said, her tone quiet, tentative. “Were you with Hal?”

  He pulled a flask from his black and red coat pocket. “Yeah. Just dropped him at home. After we left the garage, we went back to the river.”

  Joy swore and shook her head. “Fools. It’s five degrees. I’m guessing you didn’t have the proper gear on or right equipment when you decided to roam around the frickin’ woods, right?”

  Walter’s face remained impassive. “Hal’s grieving, Joy. He’s worried sick. If I didn’t go with him, he’d gone alone. And that would have been foolish.”

  “Jake’s setting up a search party for the morning,” Rachel said and connected to the Internet. “He even said a couple of men volunteered to search the river.”

  “He ain’t in the river.” Walter set the flask on the table, then shrugged out of his coat. “The driver’s side of his truck was catching the force of the current, which was quick today. Bill’s a big kid, but I can’t see him being able to push the door open.”

  “The passenger side?” Joy asked, her tone hopeful. “Or, what about the rear window?”

  Owen shook his head. “Both were locked.”

  Joy smacked a hand on the table. “Then where the hell could he be?” she asked, her voice rising. “None of this makes sense. That boy wouldn’t purposefully dump his truck in the river and walk away. And even though Evan can’t track for shit, there should’ve been footprints by the shore and in the snow. Bill’s or this whoever you two are talking about.”

  Rachel looked to Owen. “There wasn’t any evidence of a struggle inside the cab of Bill’s truck,” he said. “Which means he either was immediately incapacitated or he knew the killer.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Walter sat in a chair. “Killer? Are you talking about the Wexman Hell Week?”

  When Owen nodded, Walter rubbed a hand along his scruffy jaw. “Why would the Hell Week killer go after Bill?”

  Before she or Owen could answer, Joy snorted. “For his truck, if you can believe that one.”

  Walter reached for the flask. “I’m not sure what to believe at this point.”

  Rachel connected her cell phone to her laptop to pull up the pictures she’d taken at Bernie’s garage. “Let’s go back to what I started to tell Joy just before you got here. And again, this stays in this room.”

  After Joy and Walter nodded, she checked her computer screen. The pictures were still loading, so she reached into her bag for notecards and a pencil. “Damn it,” she mumbled when she realized she didn’t pack any notecards. More than ever, she missed CORE’s evidence and evaluation room, all of her gadgets, extra computers, TV screens and her beloved dry erase board. Going old school, writing information, clues, leads on notecards wouldn’t have been ideal, but it would have worked for a mini brainstorming session.

  “What’s wrong?” Owen asked.

  “I didn’t pack any notecards.”

  “So?” Joy took a drink from her mug.

  “So, I’m used to displaying ideas and images when I’m helping with an investigation.”

  “Rachel likes whiteboards and computer screens,” Owen said. “She’s a visual person and it helps when she can have all the details surrounding her.”

  Stunned, Rachel stared at him. Damn, he knew her well. For a split second, she wondered what else he knew.

  “I can’t help you with a whiteboard, but I’ve got some notecards.” Joy went to the kitchen, then returned with a stack of blank recipe cards. “Not exactly what you’re probably looking for, but it’ll work.”

  After she thanked Joy, she took the pencil and wrote ‘Sean’ on the recipe card. “First my brother is found on the side of the road. The Hell Week note stuffed in his pocket. Jake and Dr. Gregory think some of his injuries were due to being thrown from an SUV or a truck.” She finished jotting the information, then place the card at the center of the table.

  Joy grabbed the pencil and cards from her. “You talk, I’ll write.”

  Rachel nodded her thanks. “Okay, new card. Now we have Josh Conway. He’s been missing since Sat
urday night. He’s also my brother’s roommate and the person we suspect the Hell Week note was intended for. His parents have been notified of his disappearance, but are overseas.”

  “If my kid was missing, I’d do everything in my power to get back to the states,” Joy said as she wrote.

  “The father is working in Afghanistan, and the mother is with him,” Owen explained. “They’re having some issues getting out of the country, but told the sheriff they’d be in Bola by the end of the week.”

  “Let’s stay focused.” Rachel opened her small notepad and flipped to the beginning. “New card…Rohypnol,” she said and spelled the word.

  After Joy jotted it down, she asked, “What’s that?”

  “Date rape drug,” Owen answered. “Sean’s toxicology report showed traces of it in his system. We also think Bill was drugged with the same stuff.”

  Joy paused the pencil over the recipe card, and looked up at him. “Are you suggesting that someone was planning on…?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense to me.”

  Rachel understood her confusion. “Rohypnol is commonly known as the date rape drug, but in this case, we think the killer used it to incapacitate Sean and Josh in order to kidnap them.” She explained about the Mountain Dew and the missing trash in the boys’ dorm room, and Joy wrote down the information. “We think Bill was given the drug to knock him out.”

  Walter screwed the cap back on the flask. “So the killer could use his truck.”

  “Right.” Owen drummed his fingers on the table. “Whoever was behind this also moved the security camera in the foyer of the residence hall where Bill works.”

  As Joy quickly wrote on a fresh card, Rachel added, “The last time anyone saw Bill was yesterday afternoon. After we interviewed him and checked out the boys’ dorm room, we asked him to go the lab for blood work. His symptoms were similar to someone drugged with Rohypnol and we wanted to be sure. Because if that were the case, Bill is linked to Sean and Josh’s initial kidnapping.”

  Joy looked at her. “Hal said Bill came down with the flu over the weekend. Are you sure it just wasn’t—?”