“If we could join forces…” He didn’t finish. Justine was distracted by the ringing of her cell phone.
“Shit, it’s my mother. If I don’t answer, she’ll send the posse over here to check on me.” She flipped open the phone with a curt hello. She listened for a moment, and Derek could see the impatience in her face.
“I have plans—” She broke off and sighed. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”
After she put the phone down, she gave it the finger. “Fuck her. I have to go to her office and work. The receptionist isn’t coming in, and the regular floater is on vacation. The patients are complaining.”
Derek had to admit that he took a tiny bit of pleasure in seeing someone pull Justine’s strings. “Hey, it’s only for a day. My mother’s trying to get me to take a full–time job. She said if I don’t find gainful employment pronto, she’ll quit sending money.”
Justine picked up her car keys, her expression amused and secretive. “I have to go. I have no idea why Hannah stays married to that moron Mullet. She’s okay, but he’s always doing something stupid and making her miss work. He’s AWOL again and she’s crying and whining. I told Mom the last time this happened that she should fire her.”
“Can I stay here a while? Until my head stops hurting?”
She walked to him and turned his head so she could see the knot. “Okay. There’s some bread and cheese in the kitchen.”
“Thanks.”
“If the phone rings, don’t answer it. I’m expecting Richard to call, and I don’t need the complication.”
She was gone before he could even frame a reply.
# # #
The entire mannequin had been dusted for prints. Nothing. Marston had gone down to Zimlich’s Dry Goods to see if any of his mannequins were missing and had learned that Louis Zimlich had disposed of three unwanted mannequins—two female and one male—two nights before. He’d put them out in the back of the store for garbage pickup. All three dummies had gone missing before the trash truck could arrive. Louis hadn’t given it another thought, assuming kids had taken the dummies for a practical joke.
Rachel shuffled the stack of papers in front of her. The tracks at the crime scene, if the hanging of a dummy could be considered a crime, had been muddled by the rain. Except for the one tire print. She’d made an impression on her way down the mountain. Now the lab guys were trying to match the tread with a brand.
The photos Frankie had taken were in a stack to Rachel’s left, and she picked them up to study them again. True to her word, Frankie had e–mailed them as soon as she got to her computer. The Criss County Sheriff’s Department wasn’t loaded with technology, but Rachel had been able to make prints to better examine them. In the morning light, the crime scene looked laughable, and Rachel had to wonder if WAR had set the whole thing up as a publicity stunt.
The phone on her desk rang, and she picked it up. “Deputy Redmond.”
“It’s Hannah Bellows. My husband is still missing. Why aren’t you looking for him? Why are you sitting on your ass doing nothing? I’ve been up all night worried sick while you sat on your hands. I want–”
Rachel pulled a pad toward her. “Didn’t Deputy Amos stop by and talk with you?” Scott had said he was going to the Bellows home to tell Hannah the reported body was only a mannequin.
“He came and told me that the dead body was a hoax. That may be well and good for you, but my husband is still missing. If you’d quit playing with dummies and look for my husband, you might earn your paycheck.”
Rachel held the phone away from her ear and shot Gladys a black look. The dispatcher lifted a hand in denial.
“We have two search parties up in the woods.” Rachel had been on her way to join the searchers when she’d gotten trapped by several reporters. Gordon should have stayed to handle the press, but against his doctor’s orders, he’d gone to the wilderness. It was too much physical activity after serious surgery. “And the helicopter from Rapid City is en route. Once they arrive, they can cover more ground at a quicker pace. If you could give us some idea where your husband and Burl might have been camping…”
“If I knew where they were, I’d drive up there myself and see what happened to them. Do you understand plain English? Mullet didn’t discuss his hunting trips with me.”
Another line rang. Gladys looked up at her, signaling that she needed to take the call.
Mrs. Bellows kept talking. “They generally went up around Dixon Point, but I can’t be sure this time. Mullet likes to keep his camping spots to himself so he won’t be bothered.”
“Dixon Point?” That was where Hank Welford and Trussell had been found. She had to find the search parties.
“Yes, that’s the place. I remembered it this morning,” Mrs. Bellows continued. “I—”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bellows. We’ll be in touch.” Rachel disconnected. Gladys was waving at her like she was on fire. “What?”
“It’s for you. The guy is pretty upset, and he said he wouldn’t talk to anyone but you.”
She punched the second line, standing to check her weapon and find her keys as she spoke. “Deputy Redmond.”
“Rachel, it’s John Henry.” His voice was shaking. “I walked down to one of the summer cabins, and the folks let me use the phone. You need to get up here.”
“What’s going on?” Rachel asked. John Henry sounded drunk, or worse.
“I found something,” he whispered.
He sounded frightened, and Rachel spoke calmly. “What did you find, John Henry? Just tell me.”
“It’s best if you come right away.” His voice cracked.
“Look, I’ve got a couple of missing men and the sheriff left me here in the office. Tell me what you found.” She kept her tone patient. John Henry wasn’t the kind of person to call a law officer on a whim.
“Maybe I found one of them missing men. Or at least a part of one of them. I found a foot.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Pure white light streamed into Mullet’s eyes. For a minute he thought he was in heaven, the illumination was so intense, so…holy. Then he realized he was on the bare floor of a cabin and he was cold. His clothes were wet, and he’d been dragged through a fetid bog. In places the mud had begun to dry and cake. It wasn’t until he tried to move that he realized he was seriously injured. His right arm functioned, but his left didn’t respond to his commands.
And his neck was throbbing. His throat and tongue were swollen to the point he could only make grunting noises. He traced the fingers of his right hand under his chin and felt something sticky and wet. When he held his hand up, it was covered in blood. He remembered then. And with the return of memory came terror.
He’d discovered the empty cage and had been flying down the mountain on the four–wheeler when he’d found Burl’s boot with a foot and leg bone still in it, gnawed off at the shin. Gnawed! Someone had opened the panther’s cage. He’d thought the old cat was beyond any real violence. He’d considered giving her a sedative, but he was afraid as old as she was that she’d keel over before the hunters got a chance to shoot her, so he hadn’t given it to her.
Someone had let the hungry, unsedated cat loose on Burl.
As his body woke to full consciousness, Mullet could hardly contain his fear. The events of the night before were almost unbearable to recall.
He’d put the four–wheeler in high gear and headed back to his truck at full speed. That’s when he’d hit the trip wire or vine or whatever some maniac had strung across the path.
He felt his throat again and wondered if the intention had been to decapitate him. It had almost worked. The wire had been put at the perfect level. He’d been pulled off the four–wheeler by his neck, and that was the last thing he remembered, until now.
He turned his head to take in the rough wood of the floor. He was in a cabin, most likely one of the old hunting camps. He saw a table and chair legs. Close to a dead fireplace, a cheerful rag rug covered the cold floor. When he looked in
the other direction, he could see curtains pulled over dark windows. A couple of rocking chairs were set side–by–side, an oil lamp on a table between them. The cabin spoke of intimacy shared between two adults.
Though he racked his brain, Mullet couldn’t think of a single cabin that fit this description, and he’d certainly broken into plenty of the lodges that were scattered across this wilderness. He tried not to panic, fought to console himself with facts that led to something other than abject fear. Someone had found him. Someone had brought him here. Surely if they’d meant to kill him they would have done so in the woods. Surely…
His chest tightened, and he had to do something. Using his right foot to push, he maneuvered across the floor until he came to one of the chairs. Grasping the seat and edge of the table, he pulled himself into a sitting position. He got a better look at the cabin, noticing that it was fairly clean. If he could get to his feet, he’d feel better, safer. Sprawled on the floor, he felt like a helpless baby.
He used the chair as a brace and managed to sit taller, but he couldn’t stand. His left arm was useless, and his left leg wasn’t behaving either. When he pulled up into the chair, he felt the first full force of the pain–a knife cutting through his body. Because of the damage to his throat, he couldn’t even scream properly.
Gripping the table edge, he held himself upright. If he fell back to the floor, he’d never get up again. It took a moment for his vision to clear, and then he saw the tape recorder sitting in the center of the table. It looked harmless enough, but he knew better.
For the first time he considered that he’d been specifically targeted for the events that had unfolded. He wasn’t a random victim.
He dragged the machine toward him and looked at it. It was older, a cassette player instead of a new digital model. When his finger reached out to hit the play button he realized he was shivering.
He didn’t want to listen, but he knew he had to. If there was a way out of this alive, he’d have to figure it out himself. Listening to the tape was the first step. The button was cool to his touch, and he punched it hard.
At first he heard only the static of an old tape, then a voice came through that turned his stomach upside down. It was inhuman, electronically altered, a voice filled with anger.
“You’re a bad man, Mullet. I’ve been watching you. I know what you’re doing out in the woods. How does it feel to be the prey, to be trapped by a hunter? In the hours you have left, you have much to atone for. There’s paper and a pen on the table. Write down your confession of sin. Perhaps I’ll be lenient.”
The tape whirred on, empty of the voice.
Mullet found he couldn’t press the stop button. He couldn’t make his fingers work at all anymore. Urine dribbled off the edge of his chair.
He put his head on the table and sobbed.
# # #
The backdrop of the small cabin with the worried elderly couple, arms about each other’s waists, was in stark contrast to the gruesome body part that Jake held by a shoe string as she bagged it. John Henry glanced at it, then looked away. Rachel didn’t tell John Henry that he shouldn’t have touched the foot. He’d helpfully picked it up and brought it all the way down from Dixon Point.
Scott walked over and whistled. “Looks like something big got real hungry.” He nodded toward the couple on the porch. “They’re shook up, but they’re okay. They’re packing up today to leave. Say they’re going to be at their daughter’s in Sioux Falls if we need to contact them.”
“Good. I’d feel better if we could clear out the whole area.” Rachel looked around at the beauty. This was normally a quiet, serene summer paradise. But not with a killer on the loose. Even a four–legged killer. What kind of animal could bite through a human leg bone? A bear was most likely. A wolf, possibly. Or a panther.
Jake gingerly handed the foot to Rachel. “Where’d you find this, John Henry?” he asked.
John Henry stepped back from Jake, and Rachel maneuvered so that she stood by John Henry’s side. “We have to know where you found it.”
“You think I did this?” John Henry’s voice rose as he pointed to the foot. “That I ate somebody like that Dahmer person?”
John Henry’s eyes were shifting left and right in rapid motion. She had to calm him. “No, John Henry. I don’t think you ate anyone. But we have to find the crime scene and start looking. Two men are missing. If this,” she held up the foot “is one of them, the other may be alive. Maybe injured and needing help right now.”
John Henry nodded carefully. “I found it up the trail. I heard something yesterday right before dark. Sounded like someone screaming. The rain come on about then and I let it go, but this morning I got up and went to check. That’s when I found it. Right in the middle of the trail, like someone put it there deliberately.”
“What time did you find it?” Jake asked.
Rachel took a deep breath. “Jake is helping me, and what he wants to know is a time frame so we can begin to reconstruct what happened. You heard the scream about eight last night, and then you found the foot about what time?”
“First light. About five o’clock.”
She calculated that he’d walked nearly ten difficult miles to the closest telephone. “You went to a lot of trouble, John Henry. I appreciate it.”
He turned to see what Jake was doing before he spoke again—to her. “I didn’t hurt anyone. I don’t want you to think I did. And you were nice to me.”
“And you did help. Thank you, John Henry.”
Jake jerked his head toward a large tree, and Rachel excused herself and joined him there.
“John Henry has been at two murder sites,” Jake said. “You’re not discounting—”
“I’m not discounting anyone,” Rachel answered. “I’m using one interrogation tactic that I learned.”
“You can’t be soft with someone like John Henry James. He knows something and you have to get it out of him.”
Jake had always taken charge of her and her life. Not because he wanted to control her, but he felt a need to protect her. Even as a young boy he’d stepped in front of any perceived slights or dangers. She schooled her voice to be reasonable. “I know John Henry knows something, and he’s going to tell it to me. Not because I scare it out of him, but because he wants to help me. Jake, he called to tell me about the foot. He could have walked past it and never said a word. But he didn’t. Instead, he walked ten miles to call me. That doesn’t sound like a killer’s conduct to me. So you back off and let me interview this witness without interference. When you’re sheriff, if you don’t like my technique, you can fire me.”
She walked the few steps back to John Henry. “I just want to thank you. You went out of your way to help, and I appreciate it.”
John Henry glanced quickly at Jake and then away. “He’s going to make it hard for me, ain’t he?”
Rachel put her hand on his arm and felt the slight tremor that racked his thin body. She moved him several yards away from Jake. “No, he isn’t. We’re all tense. We’ve got to find those missing men. Can you take us to the place you found the foot?”
He nodded.
“Deputy Amos is going to give you a ride on the back of his ATV. After that, he’ll take you home.”
“You promise? This ain’t no trick?”
“No trick. Scott will take you home.” The deputy would be more than glad to get out of the woods and back to town. Betty Lou was holding her own in the hospital, but the doctors had made no bones about being concerned for her safety and that of the baby.
She left John Henry beside the ATV and took the foot to an ice chest in the back of the Rover.
Jake joined her. “Sorry, Rachel. I didn’t mean–”
“It’s okay.” She closed the ice chest and sealed it. “I’ll send someone to find Gordon and Mel up around Lost Creek, tell them about this foot. Gordon needs to stay at the S.O. and handle the media. Scott can handle the legwork from the courthouse. We may be in the woods for a while loo
king for whoever belongs to that foot.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Sometimes I have one or two.” She held his gaze. “This is my case, Jake. You need to remember that.”
“Rachel, I don’t mean—”
“Jake, I’m twenty–four with two years of college. I’ll get my degree when I can afford to go back to school. I’m proficient at Tang Soo Do. If it weren’t for your family, I’d probably be dead by now, but you have to stop treating me like a kid sister.”
“I do,” he said. “And I will.” He cleared his throat. “I took a look at the foot. It does look like something big chewed it off.”
“Let’s find who or what did this.”
“Dad is really proud of you, Rachel.”
“Thanks, Jake. That means a lot to me.” She walked back to the ATV, thinking about the past and her complicated relationship with Jake. Mel Ortiz had shown up at her trailer after the power had been shut off for non–payment. She’d eaten everything consumable, and she was hungry and cold and afraid. Mel Ortiz had sat beside her and told her that she was going to live with his family. He’d gathered a few of her clothes, helped her into his vehicle and driven her to a new life in a suburban home with his family. She’d never gone back to the trailer, but he had. He’d gotten her clothes and books and the few photographs that depicted her family life. When the Ortizes moved to Bisonville, Rachel had gone with them. Mel had influenced both her and Jake’s career choices. And put them in competition against each other.
She turned back to face Jake. “Your dad will be even prouder of you when you’re sheriff.”
Rachel was relieved to see the elderly couple on the porch waving frantically for her to come over. “Let me see what they want, and we’ll head up into the woods.”
“Deputy Redmond, there’s a phone call for you,” the woman said. “It must be important. It’s the coroner, and he sounded out of breath. He said to get you to the phone right away.”
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