Waking the Dead

by Kylie Brant

  “I’ll be fine.”

  And maybe she would. If fine was synonymous with working herself into full-blown migraine status. It occurred to him that he was a bit too concerned about the welfare of the woman beside him, and he scowled. He only cared because of how it might affect him, he assured himself. He’d made it his habit since returning from Afghanistan to not give a shit about anyone. So far it had worked pretty damn well.

  “Up to you. But if you do a face-plant while we’re hiking today, I’m leaving you where you fall.”

  Oddly, the words had her mouth curling. “You’re such a sweet talker, Sharper. How is it I’m not tripping over women dazzled by your charms?”

  “Beats the hell out of me.” But despite his threat he found himself scanning the area for the best way, the easiest way to hike in and continue the grid they’d started yesterday. And that annoyed him enough that he fell silent until he chose a spot and parked the truck off the road.

  “I remembered something last night. That second guy you mentioned. Lockwood. He builds a semipermanent place when he finds a spot he likes. A little lean-to with a tarp over the top. Not too close to water because he doesn’t like to be bothered by fishermen and tourists.”

  She turned her head carefully toward him. “You know where his shelter is?”

  He moved his shoulders impatiently, already sorry he’d said anything. The guy was probably an old hippie, a burnout who just wanted to be left the hell alone. The area was full of them. It didn’t make him a damn serial murderer. “I know where it was once, but he isn’t likely to be in the same spot.”

  “Let’s head to where you last met up with him. It’ll give us a place to start.”

  He drilled a look at her. “And when you find him?”

  Her voice was cranky. “I’m going to shoot him in the leg. Christ, Sharper, what the hell do you think? I want to talk to him. Sorry if that offends your innate leave-me-the-hell-alone quality—which is, by the way, so very endearing. I have a job to do here.”

  Something about her irritability melted away his reservations. He understood ill temper. At least it was honest. It was the damn perpetually cheerful people that he didn’t trust. As far as he was concerned, they were either dangerously out of touch or hiding something.

  Worse, though, he heard the pain beneath her words and responded to it, despite himself. “Understood. Just remember that these people can be unpredictable. It’s sort of like encountering a wild animal.”

  “Don’t corner them. Yeah, I got that. Believe it or not, I have some experience in this area.” She walked ahead of him, taking her sunglasses off as she entered the dim light of the forest.

  Zach followed more slowly. Because unlike Cait’s assertion, he had no experience in this area at all. At least, not where she was concerned.

  And he couldn’t say he cared for the sensation.

  Chapter 11

  Of course there was no one at the spot Zach recalled from the last time he’d run into Lockwood. No surprise there. Like he’d told Cait, guys like that weren’t known for sticking in one spot long term. Nor did they run into anyone else for the first couple hours. They weren’t in the campsite areas or particularly close to the river. And most other folks had more sense than to get up at the crack of dawn to wander around a forest that would still be there at a much more reasonable hour.

  If Cait’s headache was still bothering her, she didn’t show it. She never lagged, never complained about needing a rest. In fact, he was the one who had to finally call a halt since he hadn’t seen her take a drink of water since they’d left the vehicle. He slowed, reaching behind him to unzip his pack. Stopping, he withdrew a bottle of water and handed it to her. “Drink. Getting rid of a headache is part hydration.”

  “I’ve got water.”

  When he merely looked at her, she took the bottle with a sigh and twisted off the lid, looking around the area as she took a long swallow. When she’d tipped the bottle down she asked, “I assume you know where we are?”

  “I spent my childhood roaming this forest. More than half of it is in Lane County. I could be dropped down in just about any spot, and I’d be able to figure my location, eventually.” He barely remembered the time he’d spent in his mother’s house in Sisters. He’d been seven when the car accident that had eventually taken her life had landed them both in the Eugene hospital. And after he’d gone to live with Jarrett, he’d taken any excuse to get out of the house. Although not the safest of playgrounds, the Willamette had been his refuge.

  Pointing, he added, “We’re not that far off one twenty-six actually . . .” His statement trailed off at a series of crackling explosions nearby.

  Pop, pop, pop!

  There was a split second of déjà vu, when he was transported back to the past. To the mountains of Afghanistan on the rare occasion they’d stumble on a warlord protecting his territory in their quest for their target.

  But in the next instant he was returned to the present. Gaze fixed on the woman at his side.

  In a blur of motion Cait’s gun was drawn and in her hand as she took off in the direction of the sounds.

  “Shit. Wait!” But of course she didn’t. No surprise there.

  The surprise was feeling himself take off after her.

  She was amazingly fast. Somehow he hadn’t figured on that. He sprinted along, leaping over fallen logs, dodging around piles of stone until he was within a few feet of her. Voices sounded ahead of them. Young. Panicked.

  “Fuck, she’s got a gun. Run!”

  Cait stopped so suddenly that he had to swerve to avoid running her over. Lungs heaving, Zach watched as three teens scattered in different directions, stumbling through the brush and trees at a comical speed. “Did you see a weapon?”

  Shaking her head in disgust, she reholstered her gun. And it occurred to him that he’d never seen anyone draw from a back harness as smoothly, as efficiently as she had. Headache or not, there was nothing wrong with her reflexes.

  “Idiots. I don’t know what they were doing, but those weren’t shots.”

  “From the scent in the air, I’d guess Black Cats. Fire-crackers,” he explained when she turned to look at him quizzically. “Light a strip and toss them in a cave and they really make some noise.”

  “They’re illegal in most states.”

  “Well, yeah.” He brushed past her to approach the area the kids had vacated. “Doesn’t make them impossible to get. I think you can still buy them some places in Washington.” She’d fallen in step beside him and he cocked a brow at her. “Didn’t you ever get your hands on M-80s when you were a kid? Toss them under a bridge when a semi was heading over it and the driver would think he’d blown three or four tires.”

  “Delinquent.” Clearly she was unfamiliar with those particular delights of childhood. Her brow furrowed as she scanned the area. “So you’re saying there are caves in this area?”

  “Sawyer’s Ice Caves. Forestry service has chained off the entrance from the road, and I don’t think they’re on the current maps. But they’re not strictly closed to visitors. Just not publicized.” He stopped and slipped off his backpack, taking out a flashlight. “Here.” He switched it on and led the way to the small crevice sheltered by an outcropping of rocks. “See this?”

  She took the light from him, dropping to her knees to peer inside. “How deep is it?”

  “Not very. There’s a larger one and a couple small ones like this. They’re considered lava tubes, though you’ll find much bigger ones near Bend. But there’s ice on the floor of the caves even in the hottest summer temperatures.” The last thing he expected was to see her shed her pack, unzip it, and withdraw climbing gloves. “If you didn’t bring a hard hat you’re going to end up with a far worse headache than you started with today.”

  “I’ll be careful.” Remaining in a crouched position, she started into the entrance.

  With a mental shrug, he remained where he was. He’d crawled the caves as a kid, but he practically
had to bend himself double to get inside now, and damned if he was willing to do that. So instead he got comfortable on a rock and watched Cait’s shapely ass as she made her way inside. There were, he reflected consideringly, far worse ways to spend a morning.

  “There’s ice on the floors!” Her excited voice drifted outside to him.

  “I believe I mentioned that. There are also small stalactites on the ceiling, too, so watch your . . .” He heard a muttered curse and broke off the rest of the warning. Luckily she was the most hardheaded woman he’d ever known. She was going to need it.

  In a few minutes she was crawling out again. “You said there’s a bigger one?”

  Silently he got up and led her to the largest of the caves and climbed down to its entrance. “You won’t need the flashlight until you get deeper inside.”

  She followed him curiously. “Why is it so light . . . ah.” Looking up, she saw the natural skylight in the forest floor above. “Have to watch where you’re walking up there.” He lingered in the opening while she explored the depths of the cave. This time she was gone longer than he would have expected. And her expression, when she finally came out, was thoughtful.

  “They wouldn’t have been good places to hide the bones.”

  Her quick sideways glance told him better than words that he’d guessed her thoughts correctly. And when the hell had he developed that knack? Irritated, he began heading south to get back to the area they’d been exploring earlier.

  Striding beside him, she asked, “Why do you say that?” She was peeling the gloves off her hands and stuffing them back inside the pack before slipping her arms through the straps. The Steri-Strips, he noted, were still in place.

  And the fact that he’d observed that detail at all just made impatience stream through him. “The caves are too well-known. That ups the chances of someone stumbling on them before now. There are tons of bigger, roomier caves in eastern Oregon.”

  “Like near Bend.”

  “They would have been even worse choices, for the same reasons. Some of those caves are under the lease of a private company that arranges daily tours. Others are banned from tourists because of erosion or bat habitats, or whatnot.” He lifted a shoulder. Oregon was nothing if not environmentally friendly. “Your guy would have been risking exposure to use any well-traveled tourist destination as his dump site. Many of these are also routinely maintained by the Forestry Service.”

  She was silent for a long time as they walked, and this time he didn’t have a clue what she might be thinking.

  But his mind was stuck on one thing. With the exception of his years in the Army, he’d spent his whole life in the region. It was clear that whoever put those bodies in the cave in Castle Rock was someone familiar with the area. Which meant it could be someone he knew.

  Afghanistan had stripped away any illusions he might have once had. He realized people were capable of unspeakable atrocities.

  But it was still hard to believe there was someone living in the area capable of this.

  It was a couple hours and an undetermined number of miles before they happened upon a makeshift shelter that didn’t appear abandoned. Cait walked around the small campsite, taking in the rotted log pulled close to the ring of stones that served as the fire pit. It would function as seating, she supposed, if one wasn’t too fussy about comfort. And the current occupant of this site, although absent, didn’t appear overly concerned with niceties.

  “Fire’s still smoldering.” Zach stared into the distance, his mirrored sunglasses making it impossible to see his eyes. “Someone used it this morning.”

  She poked around in the three-sided tarp strung between two pines that served as a shelter. There was a dented kettle stacked with some serviceable metal dishes in one corner on the ground. A battered can of Folgers, half empty. A rolled up sleeping bag in another corner. A backpack, dingy and torn, laid half beneath it.

  Ducking out of the shelter, she started, “Whoever lives here, he doesn’t have much in the way of . . .”

  “I’ve got a gun pointed right at the woman’s head.”

  The unfamiliar voice was gravelly, as if from lack of use. She stilled, her gaze scanning the area for the person it belonged to.

  “Both of you get out of here. Leave my stuff alone and find your own site before I put a hole through her.”

  She glanced at Zach. Saw him jerk his head slightly to the right. Peering hard over his shoulder, she had to focus for long moments before she could make out a shadow in the underbrush several yards away.

  “We’re only here to talk to you. We don’t want your things.” Cait began to edge for the nearest fir. If there really were a weapon trained on her, she’d need the protection. She tried to catch Zach’s eye, but the warning she’d intended was unnecessary. He was already moving in the opposite direction, splitting the man’s focus.

  “I’ve got nothing to say to you. Now both of you get the hell out of here before I start shooting.”

  “That’s a shame. Because I’m paying fifty dollars for cooperation. Just need some questions answered, that’s all. How long you been set up here? A couple months?” She figured the answer was far shorter than that. “You might have seen the person I’m looking for.”

  There was a long silence. Then, “You got a lost hiker? I might be able to help you with that. I know this forest better than most.”

  “I have someone here who knows this area.” She could no longer see Zach. Had no idea if he had taken shelter or if he was circling around to position himself in back of the owner of that disembodied voice. “I’m not interested in having a conversation with you hidden in that brush. If you want the money, come out here and talk to me.”

  There was a rustling noise and then a figure emerged. And once Cait caught sight of him, she was no longer worried about a weapon. The tattered flannel he wore was open to reveal a ripped black T-shirt beneath. In his left hand he held a dead rabbit by its ears. The long sleeve of the flannel was pinned up on the other side nearly to the shoulder.

  A lot of life had happened to Stephen Kesey since the dated motor vehicle photo she had in her pack.

  He tossed the dead animal toward the fire pit. “Where’s the guy that was with you?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Here.” Zach moved into her line of vision. But he didn’t come any closer to them.

  Kesey shot him a cautious look before glancing at Cait again. “So it’s not about a lost tourist? Seems to me they’re the ones people kick up a fuss about. What’s going on then? What do you want?”

  If she hadn’t seen the man’s identifying information she’d have had a hard time determining his age. His long brown hair and untrimmed beard were liberally streaked with gray. Deep lines fanned out from faded blue eyes. He looked at least a decade older than his fifty-four years.

  “How long has your camp been set up here?”

  “A couple days, that’s all. I like to move around a lot.”

  She suspected he was lying. There was no reason to break camp unless Forestry Service or a private property owner demanded it, and according to what Zach had told her earlier, the land they were currently on had no camping restrictions. So where had he moved from? “Any reason for that?”

  The man fell silent, his gaze shifting. Cait pressed, “Seems like a lot of trouble involved in moving. You travel light, but there’s still finding the right place. Somewhere you won’t be bothered, either by forestry or people happening by all the time.”

  Still he said nothing. She dug in her jeans pocket. Hoped there was a fifty among the bills in there. “You ever see anyone around here at night?”

  “Get a lot of fisherman before dawn when I’m near the river. Not in these parts, though.” His eyes flickered when she withdrew some bills and peeled off a fifty to hold it up to show him.

  “So you’ve been here a couple days and haven’t seen anyone at night during that time. What about earlier? Where were you camping before you found this spot?”

 
“Couple miles west of Castle Rock.” He gave a short bitter laugh and flapped his empty sleeve. “I can admit that, can’t I, ’cuz there’s sure no way in hell anyone would suspect me of hauling those bodies up it to dump them.”

  Cait smiled easily, but her mind was racing. He might not have hauled the bones to the cave, but that didn’t mean the man couldn’t pose a threat. He managed to set up camp and take it down, pack, and travel around the forest, all one-armed.

  Or he could have seen something, someone suspicious in the forest. There was no way the UNSUB could dump remains seven times and not be noticed once, was there?

  “How’d you hear about that?”

  “I’ve got a radio.” He jerked his shaggy head toward the shelter. “Battery operated. So I can know when bad weather’s on the way. When I heard about the commotion on Castle Rock a couple weeks ago, I knew it was time to go. Too bad, too. Left a real sweet spot.”

  “Why’d you leave it?” At his sharp look, she smiled innocently. “Like you said, no one would believe you had anything to do with the deal at Castle Rock. So what was the point?”

  “No reason. Just felt like it.” His eyes sharpened when Cait took the bill she was holding and proceeded to shove it back into her pocket. “What’s the deal?”

  “The deal is you’re lying. The fifty bucks is for telling the truth.” She drilled him with a gaze. “Why’d you move?”

  His faded blue gaze never left her pocket where she’d secreted the bill. “Didn’t feel safe no more. There was a guy came by. Middle of the night. Passed fifteen, twenty yards from my shelter. He had a shotgun. There are all kinds of crazies out here. I didn’t need him coming back. Maybe surprising me sometime when I was sleeping.”

  “So you saw someone in the middle of the night who scared you?”

  The man’s beard waggled as he shook his head furiously. “Didn’t say I was scared. Just careful. Careful enough to get up and follow him a ways. He was heading east until he just stopped. Never left the forest at all. Then he turned back and headed my way again, so I had to hide so he wouldn’t see me.”