Waking the Dead

by Kylie Brant

  She suspected the stranger he’d seen had been lucky to be carrying a shotgun. Kesey had probably had more in mind than caution when he’d followed the man. “What night was this?”

  “Like I said it was a couple weeks ago. I heard on the radio the next day about the cops hauling bodies out of a cave on Castle Rock.”

  “You’re sure about that? This occurred the night before the newscast?”

  “The night before I first heard about it anyway. So like I said, he goes by me again and I figured he might’ve been out doing some poaching. ’Cuz he’s carrying this bag on his back, right? So I followed him a bit farther from a distance to see where he was going. I lost him for a while, but after fifteen minutes or so he came heading back my way, still carrying the bag. I was behind some rocks and he stopped all of a sudden like he knew I was there. Couldn’t have, of course. But it spooked me all the same.”

  Cait pulled her hand out of her pocket again with the bill and he eyed it avariciously.

  “The next morning I started thinking I’d best just move out of the area. In case he really did know I’d been spying on him and came back some night.”

  “What exactly did he seem to be carrying?” When the man didn’t answer she said, “Was it a backpack?”

  “Couldn’t tell for sure. Something dark, that’s all I know.”

  “How long had you been at that campsite? The one near Castle Rock?”

  He pondered that question for a few moments. “I don’t really know. Months anyway.”

  She made a production of smoothing the bill between her fingers. “How many months? Two? Six?”

  Kesey just shrugged. “Closer to three, but I can’t say for sure how long.”

  “And you never saw anyone else around your site at night in all that time?”

  “Kids sometimes. They come out in the forest to screw around. Drink beer and stuff. Otherwise I only saw that guy I told you about, and him just that once.”

  She slid her bag off her shoulder and crouched down to unzip it. Pulling out a pad and pen she rose and approached him, extending the fifty. When he snatched it out of her hand, she casually offered the notepad. “Can you sketch the area where you were camping at the time?”

  He looked at her like she was crazy. “Can’t even draw a straight line with my left hand. Not that I was ever much better with my right.”

  “How long ago did you lose it?” She inclined her head slightly toward his missing arm.

  “Two years ago.” Now that Kesey had the money he was plainly in a hurry for them to leave. He was inching closer to his shelter. Away from her. “Got infection in a cut and the doctor amputated the whole damn arm. Fucking butcher.”

  Cait could imagine the condition the arm was in before he’d sought treatment. But she couldn’t prevent a surge of pity for the man, nonetheless. “Just do your best with your left hand. I want a general idea of what your campsite looked like. Any focal points that might have been in the area.”

  Obviously humoring her, he drew a very rough drawing of fir trees and something that looked like a rock. A squiggly line that could have been a road or the river. Then he handed the pad back to her. “Best I can do unless you have a map.”

  “I do, actually.” She sent a look to Zach, who had been standing by silently during the entire exchange. When she unfolded the map of the forest, he approached and squatted down next to Kesey while she studied the drawing.

  The stranger was right. He was no artist. And while it was possible he’d deliberately made it appear like he had the ability of a talentless kindergartner, she was more inclined to believe that he lacked the capability of painting minute scenes on human scapulas.

  Three hours later Cait’s headache had subsided but for a nagging throb. They’d stopped for lunch and she sat cross-legged, leaning on her pack, which she’d propped against a pine. She had no idea where they were. But when she asked Zach to check off grid-lined sections they’d covered on the map, he never hesitated. Which was oddly fascinating, because if he disappeared at this moment, she’d be screwed. Except for the occasional outcropping of rocks or charred tree, most of the area they’d traveled that day looked pretty much alike.

  The granola bars she’d purchased this morning looked neither tasty nor filling, but she needed the fuel, so she chewed unenthusiastically. Sharper was silent as he ate . . . she leaned over for a closer look. “Peanut butter?” The discovery brought a smile to her lips. “What are you, ten?”

  His brow rose. “Peanut butter’s a good source of protein. Besides”—he wadded up the plastic bag he’d taken it from in one hand—“I didn’t have any food in the house. Closest decent grocery store is in Eugene, and it’s not like I’ve been to town lately.”

  There was no rancor in his words, but she felt a tug of guilt anyway. “I have to get to Eugene tomorrow morning myself for at least a couple hours.” She hadn’t yet gotten those soil samples to Kristy, and she’d promised Barnes she’d get latent samples for the elimination match, as well. “That reminds me, I’ll need to get a fingerprint sample from you sometime today.”

  He stilled in the act of shoving the wrapper back into his pack. And the look he sent her was sharp. “What the hell for?”

  “We have to . . .” Her cell rang then and she stopped to pull it from her pack. It took a moment to recognize the number. But once she did, the blood pumped a little faster in her veins. Rising to her feet in one smooth motion, she answered, “Detective Drecker.”

  “Fleming?” The Seattle detective’s voice sounded in her ear. “Sorry this took so long, but Recinos’s mother was hard to track down. Apparently she was on vacation. I did get some information from her to pass along, though. Recinos didn’t have any arthritis that her family knew about, but she had broken her left wrist six months before her disappearance. Tripped over the cat, or something.”

  Her mind racing, she paced a distance away from Zach, although he couldn’t help but hear her end of the conversation. It was possible the signs of osteoarthritis apparent on the remains hadn’t caused the victim any particular problem before death. Also possible that her mother wouldn’t know about every ache and pain her daughter had had. “And she wasn’t adopted? This is her biological mother?”

  “Yeah, they’re blood relatives. What are you thinking, DNA match? Can you do that without tissue?”

  “I took a sample from the bones. If you can get the mother to a lab, a sample can be taken and the results faxed to us. If that’s not possible, I’d be glad to run the test myself, if she could make her way down here.”

  “What have you got, your own private lab facility?” The man’s laugh was liberally laced with cynicism. Cait knew what he was thinking. Too often evidence gathered in police investigations languished in the state labs for months, some not being processed until well after the trial.

  “Yes.”

  Her short answer had the detective pausing. “Well . . . hell. I almost forgot who you worked for. You might be the first break I catch in this case. I took another look at the case file, after you called last time. I told you I liked the ex for it, right?”

  Supremely aware of the man standing only yards away, Cait replied, “You mentioned that.”

  “I had one of our forensic accountants take a look at the path the money took when I first caught the case. All I know for sure is someone didn’t want the money trail traced. There were so many transfers and phony fronts that it would take him weeks to unravel it all. Time he wasn’t willing to spend since we didn’t have evidence of a crime, y’know? The ex claims that Recinos frequently talked about wanting to get far away from everybody and everything and start over, but I figure he came up with the story because I was leaning on him pretty hard. Her mother and friends all dispute that. No one else thought she purposely disappeared.”

  His words went muffled then, as if he’d partially covered the phone. “Hey, can I get a cup of that coffee over here?”

  Cait considered the possibilities. The remains of
female C showed signs of a fairly recent fracture of the left lunate. Marissa Recinos broke her left wrist in the last six months of her life. She also matched in the areas of stature and approximate age. It was enough for her to be damn pumped about running the DNA tests. “I don’t suppose you were able to look closer at the finances of the ex. Or even the mother or acquaintances.”

  “None of them seem to have changed their lifestyle from a sudden infusion of cash, but like I say, no evidence of a crime. I had jack shit to go on here.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” She turned to see Sharper leaning a shoulder against a tree, regarding her enigmatically. “You think the mother will cooperate?”

  “There’s no doubt she will. She’s desperate to get information about her daughter.” There was a pause, before he went on. “Guess linking her to bones found in a cave in Oregon won’t be exactly the news she’s hoping for, though. Oh, and I asked her about that list you gave me. Ballet and picture frame and stuff.”

  Nerves tightened in a ball in Cait’s stomach. “What’d she say?”

  “I wrote it down here somewhere. Just a minute.” There was a rustling noise as if the man were shuffling papers. After a moment he spoke again. “Marissa took dance lessons for about ten years when she was a kid. Liked to ski. She worked from home designing websites for charitable foundations. One of her hobbies was matting and framing pictures she took. The other was speeding along the Pacific Coast Highway in her Dodge Viper.”

  Excitement sprinted along her veins. She struggled to rein it in. “Anything about the gum? Or fish?”

  “Yes, and no. She was the sole heir of a fortune left to her by her great-grandfather who made his loot in—get this—chewing gum. Recinos couldn’t think of any special meaning for the fish, though.”

  “She was last sighted in Pike Place Market,” Cait said slowly. The famous Seattle attraction hosted a fresh fish company where the employees threw fish for the enjoyment of the tourists. “You might want to ask Recinos if that was a favorite spot for her daughter. And if she continued her love of ballet as an adult.”

  “What’s this all about, Fleming?” The detective’s tone was curious.

  With a flash, Cait’s gaze went to Sharper standing only yards away, his gaze fixed on her. “I can’t go into that right now. But if we get a match with the DNA sample . . . I’ll give you a full accounting on all the details.”

  “You’d better.” The man sounded faintly disgruntled. “Because I have a feeling you’re going to get a match. When I went through Marissa’s credit card statements again, I found some charges made in Oregon about eight months before she went missing.”

  Cait went still. “Charges for what?”

  “Apparently she stayed in that area for a few days. A place called Springs Resort.” He rattled off the dates. “There’s another charge to River Adventures, out of Springfield. Her mother said she went up there with a group of friends for a long weekend, even though it wasn’t exactly her cup of tea. Apparently she wasn’t the outdoorsy type.” The man paused for a moment. “If those remains turn out to be hers, maybe she came to the killer’s attention on that trip. Which would blow my theory on the ex and make it more likely that we’re looking for a local up there.”

  “That’s still a big ‘if’ at this point.” The cautionary words were as much for her as they were for Drecker. But it was difficult to tamp down the flare of excitement she felt. “You might want to check the ex’s background. See if he’s familiar with this area.”

  Drecker’s laugh held real amusement. “I’ll do some digging, but I wouldn’t count on it. That guy is more the martini and manicures type than a nature lover.”

  After eliciting the man’s promise to make the arrangements for the test immediately, Cait hung up. And took a moment to still the vortex of adrenaline swirling inside her. If the DNA profile showed the elder Recinos was a blood relative of the remains of female C, the entire case took on a whole new light. Possibly provided motivation, if the money angle panned out. It would certainly give Drecker the justification to dig further into the money trail.

  But it also just might blow her tentative profile of the UNSUB all to hell.

  The thought had her frowning as she rejoined Sharper. Money was an all too common motivation for murder. But an offender who took the time to paint tiny scenes on bones was definitely outside the norm. It could point to affection for the victim or ego on the part of the UNSUB. The former was far more likely in the case of a serial offender.

  Regardless, she needed another briefing with Andrews to update her on the latest development. She stopped a couple feet away from Sharper and pressed the speed dial number for the sheriff. “We need to talk,” she said without preamble when she got the woman’s voice mail. “Get back to me as soon as you can.”

  When she’d finished, she squatted to tuck the phone back in the zippered front pocket of the bag, pretending not to notice Zach’s intent stare. “I’m ready to head out.”

  “You get a break in the case?”

  She slanted him a glance. Sharper wasn’t directly involved in this investigation. The information she gave him had to be guarded. But he wasn’t stupid, either. He was going to draw his own conclusions based on what he observed when they were together. What he overheard. And there was little she could do about that. “Maybe. We’ll see.” She stuffed the wrappers into the bag and rose, shrugging into the straps. “Ready to move?”

  The intensity of his stare was its own answer. “Sharper, I can’t discuss it. You know that.”

  “Sure.” Unsurprisingly, there was an edge to his tone. “But you can damn well discuss why you need a fingerprint sample. That involves me, right? We can agree on that?”

  “We need elimination prints,” she said calmly. But she recognized the storm brewing inside him. Wondered at it. “If it makes you feel any better, my assistant and I have to be printed, as well as the officers from the sheriff’s department who were at the recovery scene.”

  Something in his expression eased a fraction. “So . . . what? You got a print from one of the bones? Because I didn’t touch any of them. I told Andrews that when I reported them.”

  Skirting his question, she started walking. “The more people we eliminate, the closer we get to finding the suspect.” A hand on her elbow stopped her. Her gaze lingered on it for a moment before lifting to his face.

  “So you’re saying whoever left that print doesn’t have a record. Because there’s a national database for that, right? If this guy was in the system, you’d already have a name.”

  He was, she thought ruefully, entirely too shrewd for her peace of mind. “I guess that’s what I’m saying.”

  “Christ.” He dropped his hand but didn’t step away. “Easier to believe it’s some big-city bad guy with a sheet a mile long. But this means it could be anyone. A person no one would suspect. Isn’t that how it usually goes?”

  “You said once you thought the killer was local.” It was looking even likelier after what Drecker had told her today. And although they were a ways from determining that for sure, she was growing increasingly certain he was right.

  He gave her a grim glance and began to head out. “Almost has to be. At least from the area. Walterville, Vida, Nimrod, Blue River, McKenzie . . . someone had to have lived in this area for a long time to know it as well as this guy does. I’ve lived around here all my life and I never knew that cave existed. Maybe he moved away after living here as a kid, but I doubt he went far. Unless . . . you don’t think all those bones were dumped there at the same time, do you?”

  She matched him step for step and tried to keep up as easily with the direction of his thoughts. “No.”

  “So the guy made multiple trips. Probably at night. Could have camped somewhere around here. Brought the bones with him, then struck out at night to dump them. But campsites mean people, and that’d be a risk. No, chances are he came in alone, left the same way. How far is he going to drive to get rid of them? Not far, I’m guess
ing. Not more than a couple hours. Can’t risk being stopped and having human skeletons found in the car.”

  So engrossed was she in his litany that she narrowly avoided being smacked in the head by a low-hanging branch he’d let go of after dodging beneath it. As it was, the twigs on the branch caught her hair, and she stopped to release it. “First you say he lives around here, then you say he might be two hours away. Which is it?”

  He turned to shoot her an impatient glance, saw her dilemma, and relented. Swiftly he walked back toward her and batted her hands out of the way. “You’re making a mess of it. Let me.”

  His hands were quick and curiously gentle as he worked the strands free, but there was no trace of gentleness in his expression when he released her to step back. “Put your hat on,” he said gruffly. While she dug in her pack, he seamlessly switched topics. “What I said was, he had to have lived here for a while at some point. Although I guess we shouldn’t assume the killer is a man. Those bags weren’t that heavy. Someone in shape, someone like you, could probably have made that climb up Castle Rock carrying the bag. But whoever it is, they knew this place. The way I know it. The way Jim Lancombe, the groundskeeper at the Springs Resorts, knows it. They’re familiar with every square inch, same as me. Which makes using that cave as a dump site even worse, in my mind.”

  It may have been the longest speech she’d ever heard him utter. It was easily the most impassioned. “Why?” Because he’d turned and started walking again, she fell in step, too. But she wanted, needed, the answer to her question. “Why does it make it worse?”

  Minutes passed. Long enough for her to think he wasn’t going to answer. But finally he said, “It seems like a desecration, I guess. This is one of the few truly peaceful places I’ve found on this earth.” He sent her a quick sidelong glance. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  But she thought she did understand. At least a little. She headed for the mountains and forests in Virginia at least monthly, if the job allowed. Immersing herself in the tran quility found there never failed to ease her stress.