Waking the Dead

by Kylie Brant

  “They’re progressing but will need another day or so to dry out.”

  After a few moments of examination, Cait was inclined to agree. “There’s no telling how long they were in the springs, but I tend to think it was less than three weeks. And I’m anxious to get some data from them to start referencing with more recent disappearances.”

  Kristy looked at the remains dubiously. “They aren’t going to be in the best shape after saturation.”

  “They’ll bend or break easily,” Cait admitted. “So we’ll have to be extra careful handling them.” But for now it was a moot point. They were still leaving damp spots on the newspaper pads beneath them as the water continued leaking out of them.

  “Oh, I forgot.” The diminutive blonde hurried to the desk and snatched a file folder from the upright plastic holder on the desk and brought it back to hand to Cait. “This was lying in the fax tray when I got in this morning.”

  Flipping it open, Cait found a copy of Bentley’s credit card statement for a year prior to his death. And another note signed by Cross with a scrawled message.

  Brother confirmed WB Giant’s fan and rafted for hobby. Will fax DNA profile when get it.

  The motel on the statement was one she recognized. It was a trendy establishment on Highway 126, four or five miles from McKenzie Bridge. There were no other charges from businesses in the area, with the exception of gas stations.

  Regardless what Andrews had said earlier, positively linking William Bentley to this case cleared Sharper. If she had to she could ask Raiker for a copy of the dates of his leaves from the Army. Cait was convinced they wouldn’t coincide with the time Bentley had been in the area years ago.

  She told herself that wasn’t relief she felt at the thought. After last night, she’d almost think he deserved it if the sheriff had taken another shot at him.

  But it wasn’t his beef with the sheriff that had kept her awake until dawn. She’d run the facts through her head over and over until her thoughts resembled a rat in a maze. But she’d done nothing wrong. She’d done her job when she’d asked Raiker to delve into Zach’s files, but she hadn’t asked for more than she needed. And sharing those details with Andrews was her job, too. She wasn’t going to apologize for it.

  And she refused to feel guilty that he didn’t believe her. She was carrying all the guilt she could handle without taking that on, as well.

  But knowing that—accepting it—didn’t make a dent in the heaviness in her chest.

  “I also did a bit of research yesterday after I was finished with the paint samples. Great work with that match by the way,” Kristy said in a poor imitation of Cait’s voice. Her eyes went wide then and fluttered as she brought a hand to her chest. “Why thank you, Cait, I thought I did it in record time, too.” Her voice dropped an octave again. “You’re the best fucking tech I’ve ever had, and I’m going to tell Raiker he should double your pay.”

  Cait fixed her with an unblinking stare. “Number one, I do not talk like a frog with a five pack a day habit, and number two, you’re going to need double the salary if you don’t stop dropping the F-bomb in every other sentence. Tell me about your research.”

  “I’ve cut way back on swearing. Even you have to admit it. Okay,” Kristy said hastily, crossing to her purse to dig out a dollar. “It’s worth the buck. Steve’s constant nagging is starting to get almost as annoying as yours.”

  Cait stuffed the dollar in her jeans pocket. “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Trouble in monogamy,” the tech corrected her. She riffled through the folders in the file organizer and selected one before heading back to where she’d left Cait. “One could never confuse that with paradise. Even if he does have the best-looking ass in the northwest. I’m going purely on the laws of probability, there. More’s the pity.” She switched seamlessly to her original topic of conversation.

  “Okay, I ran the rest of the soil samples you brought me after matching the paint samples. Nothing jumped out at me. But there were a few that were at least as close to the sample you brought from Sharper’s property. I went down to the NRCS and had a nice talk with one of the guys there. He was pretty cute, sort of beta, but with this totally awesome punk rock thing going on . . .” Catching Cait’s eye, she veered back to the subject. “Anyway, he was telling me about the formation of the hot springs in Oregon, and I started thinking about the sediment found in the bags. Maybe we’ve been focusing on the wrong element in the soil sample.”

  She had, finally, gotten Cait’s undivided attention. “You mean the sulfur?”

  “I mean what’s missing, I guess. All these springs you were looking at were in and around the forests, right? The samples taken close to hot springs had a much higher sulfur content than our sediment. The one you got from Sharper’s property, and various places in the forest were closer. But they had minerals associated with plant decomposition and that was barely discernible in our sample.”

  Kristy’s voice grew animated. It often did when she could combine her two loves, science and men. “But Gary and I put our heads together—that’s his name, Gary Neller—and looking at the composite we made of our sample, he suggested that the other trace minerals might have come from animal excrement.”

  Her mind racing, Cait said, “We knew that. But it doesn’t help all that much. Even the forest would have scat from the wildlife.”

  “But not in the concentrated amounts you’d have on, say, a farm. Not that our sediment bore concentrated amounts suggesting manure, but he suggested maybe a place that used to be a working farm. He even suggested maybe sheep had once been raised near there, because of the level of sulfur in the soil.” When Cait didn’t immediately respond, Kristy lifted a shoulder. “It’s an idea, anyway. If you pass a shepherd up there, you might want to check out his flock.”

  Cait ignored her tech’s euphemism. She’d already come to the conclusion that the main value of the sediment in the bags would be for a comparison sample taken from the UNSUB’s property, but she filed the information away. “At least it narrows down places to focus on if I take more samples.” Right now, though, she had better leads. Beginning with the two positives and one nearly certain identification on three of the remains. “I’m going to check in with Barnes and Andrews. Fill them in on the data I got from Cross and get updated on their progress up there.”

  “Not much to do here right now,” Kristy agreed. “Just for shits and giggles, I’m going to do some preliminary measurements of these bones.” She raised her voice a bit to stem Cait’s response. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Did it ever occur to you that you could just call all the resorts in the area, get a list of their guests for the last year, and then feed the names into the missing persons database to see which of them have gone missing? I’m betting we could get this guy’s name that way.”

  She had thought that exact thing. And hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “I’m going to send out some emails to detectives with missing persons cases in states outside those bordering Oregon.” It still surprised her that the UNSUB had ventured so far abroad. The need for traveling greater distances to snatch the victim upped his risk. “If the bones dry out sufficiently, we can run our tests and hopefully get the same results faster. Check in later today if you’ve got anything. And that last dollar you owe me will go on your tab.”

  She heard the woman mutter in an undertone behind her back, “Thought she missed that one.” And smiled as she sat down at the desk in front of the computer. It was never boring working with Kristy.

  “Make sure you back up all your work on that thing.” Her tech’s voice was muffled. Her head was stuck in between the shelves as she gathered up equipment. “It quit on me twice when I was typing my notes yesterday. Not sure if it’s the software or the computer itself, but you need to be sure the IT guy looks at it when you get back to headquarters.”

  Cait froze. “What’d you say?”

  “You know. What’s his name. Calvin. The computer wizard who works for Raiker. He’ll
have it running right in no time. That man has magic in his fingertips.” Her tone went regretful. “I’m sorry to say that I know from personal experience that his magic is reserved only for technical equipment.”

  She’d stopped listening. Reached for the phone. Then hissed out an impatient breath when she reached Andrews’s voice mail. She left her a message regarding the Bentley credit card statement and verification on two of the images found on his scapula. Then she called Barnes. “Any progress on the employees for the Internet access provider?”

  Disgust sounded in Barnes’s tone. “Lantis refused to hand over the records without a court order. Guess civic duty doesn’t mean squat to them. The sheriff is at Judge Grayson’s office right now getting a signature on the warrant. I’m hoping the bastards have to work all night getting the records together for us. It would serve them right.”

  “This should have occurred to me before, but you need to call the resorts back and find out who services their computers.”

  A frown sounded in the deputy’s voice. “Lantis, I told you.”

  “No, I mean who do the resorts call when a computer gets a virus or they get new equipment? Lantis employees might not be the only ones with access to the computers at the motels.”

  “Huh. Guess I hadn’t thought of it. I’ve had the same computer for seven years and never had a problem with it.”

  A sense of irony filled her. “You know you’ve dared the fates just by saying that, right? Take it from me, that’s not the case with most computer owners. And as much use as the shared computers would get at the motels, I can guarantee they need regular servicing. Get those names, and we’ll add them to the list of employees we eventually get from Lantis.”

  “I’ll do that right away.”

  She filled him in on the Bentley credit card statement and verification on two of the images found on his scapula while she composed and sent emails to the other detectives on her list with missing persons. New Mexico. Colorado. Nevada. If any of these related to the case, it meant the UNSUB had taken more risks than she had at first believed.

  “Three sets of remains identified.” She could hear the faint sounds of traffic noises. Barnes was on the road. “We’re making progress.”

  “It’s a start. What about the paint? Any hits there?”

  “Got an art supply place over in Sisters that sells small cans. ’Course the only records they have are credit card statements, so that’s going to take a while. The officer questioned all the employees about a return customer buying that stuff, but seems like it’s mostly kids doing stuff for school.”

  “The UNSUB probably got them online.” That’s what she would have done. The anonymity would have been appealing. “We can eliminate the aerosols, which should help. But it wouldn’t hurt to contact the online companies I gave you to see about getting their client list.”

  “I’m sure they’ll hand that right over,” the man muttered.

  “How are you coming on talking to the restaurant employees at Tito’s?”

  “About like you’d expect. They barely remember tourists from a couple weeks ago unless they were big tippers. The photos didn’t jog any memories.”

  So there’d be no use showing Bentley’s picture around if he turned out to be one of their victims in the lab. If the people hadn’t recognized tourists from three and five years ago, they certainly weren’t going to recall one who’d been in the area six years previously.

  “I’m going to finish a few emails and then I’ll head back up there. Continue showing the photos around at the local businesses.”

  After disconnecting, she finished emailing the detectives and then turned to Kristy, who had laid out the various sizes of calipers and was squatted down eye level with one femur. “I’m going back to McKenzie Bridge.”

  “I heard.”

  “The hospital has my cell number, but I also left this number just in case they couldn’t reach me.”

  Kristy looked up, her gaze sober. “If they do, I’ll find a way to contact you.”

  “Thanks.” She regarded her friend for a moment. And the diminutive tech was that, she realized. Cait could think of no one else with whom she would have shared details of that scene with her mother, even as carefully edited as the version had been. “And thanks for listening.” She made an awkward gesture with her hand. “I mean earlier.”

  “I know a little bit about relationships with mothers.” She gave a thumbs-up sign. “It will work out.”

  “Yeah.” Cait couldn’t quite pull off an answering smile. “It’ll work out.”

  She held that thought on the drive to McKenzie Bridge. Tried to believe it. But a positive outcome of the scene with Lydia was difficult to fathom. She’d been demanding and frantic by turn when Cait had had her admitted. Shifted with dizzying speed between the past and present, from awareness of her surroundings to a shrill insistence that they were overseas. It hadn’t been difficult to get a psych hold on her.

  What had been difficult had been leaving her there. And trying to imagine the next step.

  Getting Lydia well again was the first priority. And that was the easy part of the equation. Choosing doctors, discussing treatment options . . . that could be done objectively with a clear outcome in mind.

  Repairing the relationship between her and her mother . . . Cait reduced her speed as she went around a curve. That was where things got dicey.

  I knew if I left you alone in the house with him more and more when he was in one of his funks that he’d plan things out. Your father came to the right decision.

  A decision that had cost Cait, in one way or another, all her life.

  The miles whipped by at pace with her thoughts. She cast a look at the sky. Although the pavement was dry, the skies looked like they could open up at any moment. A fitting way to cap off an already shitty day. With effort, she pushed aside the personal worries. It helped, always, to have the case to concentrate on. To obsess over something where it might actually do some good.

  Her cell rang and she checked the ID. Barnes. “Yeah, Mitch.”

  “Where you at?”

  She took a second to check landmarks to get her bearings. “About four miles out of McKenzie Bridge, give or take.”

  A pickup went by, tooting its horn. She realized after it had passed that the occupants were Kathy and Rick Moses.

  There was an unfamiliar note of excitement in the deputy’s voice. “I talked to the three resorts. Included the one Bentley had stayed at, because we’re guessing he’s going to end up involved in this, too, right?” He didn’t wait for a response before going on. “Different names were mentioned, but one appeared at the top of everyone’s list. Del Barton.”

  “Del?” The owner of JD’s, she recalled. The slight man with the flirtatious smile and overworked wife. “Not Joanie?”

  “They say there’s nothing he doesn’t know about computers. I’ve got Deputy Sutton with me, and we’re out in front of his place now. Going to take him in for questioning.”

  “We should collect the computers from the resorts and bring them in for an examination. Maybe we’ll find evidence of the spyware installation.”

  “I’ll have Gibbs contact you. Maybe the two of you can take care of it.”

  “Meet you there in a few minutes.” Cait dropped the phone in her purse and stepped more firmly on the gas. It shouldn’t surprise her that Barton had lied to her about his wife being the computer genius, she thought grimly. Lying was the first resort of those with a guilty conscience.

  But she would be slightly surprised to discover he was their UNSUB. She’d have pegged his wife as having more guts than he did.

  Which made her even more eager to talk to Joanie Barton than she was to Del.

  Cait met the two deputies walking Del out of JD’s just as she pulled the rented SUV up to the curb.

  “Del agreed to ride down to the station and talk to us,” Mitch said blandly.

  “Middle of dinner rush,” Barton said ruefully, casting a glan
ce back toward the restaurant. “Joanie’s having a cow.” The slight shadow of nerves in his expression could be due to just that—leaving his wife to manage the restaurant on her own. Certainly he didn’t appear to be overly concerned to be headed to the sheriff’s office. But there was no real reason for fear yet, she reminded herself. He wasn’t in cuffs. This questioning was purely voluntary.

  Unless, of course, he’d refused.

  “I’m sure Deputy Barnes will have you back as quickly as possible,” Cait said, standing aside as the three men headed toward the sheriff cruiser double-parked out front. She spotted Joanie Barton at the front door of the place watching her husband leave, anxiety and anger in her expression.

  If Del was relatively calm, his wife wasn’t.

  “You!” The short dark-haired woman pushed open the front door of the restaurant with a force that sent the screen door bouncing off the opposite wall. “This is all your fault!”

  Supremely aware of the onlookers on both sides of the street watching the events unfold with avid interest, Cait kept her voice pleasant. “Joanie.”

  “I told you nothing good would come of stirring all this up.” The shorter woman approached her like a miniature tornado. “From the minute those bones were hauled out of that cave, we’ve had nothing but trouble in this town. First the tourism went to pot and now you idiots have arrested Del. My Del! As if he could have anything to do with this mess!”

  “Del isn’t under arrest. He’s answering a few questions. We’ve been asking lots of questions around here for the last day or so.”

  “He may as well be.” The glare in her eyes would have been lethal if it weren’t tinged with fear. “What’s everyone going to think, him being seen leaving with the deputies like that? That he’s a suspect, is what they’ll think. What are my kids supposed to do when their friends ask them why their step-dad had to go to the sheriff’s office? Do you people ever think of that? Of the innocents who get hurt while you bungle around trying to figure out what the hell happened up there in that cave?”