by Rick Mofina
“Wade’s a private detective now, working for Don Krofton,” Quinn said. “You guys should check to see if Krofton was at the scene that day.”
“I think you’ve watched one too many bad movies, Ethan,” Perelli said.
Quinn shrugged and opened his briefcase.
“Not long after Sperbeck’s release from prison, he staged his own death. Then Henry Wade just happens to follow the ‘dead man’ to a bank where Sperbeck had some sort of transaction. It’s all here. I was surveilling Wade.”
Quinn held up a disk from his video recorder.
“Don’t you move.” Boulder waved a uniform over to keep Quinn company while he took his detectives for a short walk.
“What do you make of Quinn’s shit, Grace?” Boulder said.
“There’s a lot at play here. Look at the facts. Sperbeck’s our guy for Sister Anne, Sharla May Forrest, and Brady. And Sister Anne visited Sperbeck in prison.”
“But some twenty-five years ago,” Perelli said, “after the robbery, she enters the convent, with over a million. It has to be a link. And her real identity is not what she claimed, according to the Mirror. Maybe she was holding the money for Sperbeck.”
“But somehow, Sperbeck thinks Rhonda Boland’s husband owes him,” Boulder said. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“The pieces are there. They just don’t line up yet,” Grace said. “Like why did Sperbeck kill Sharla May?”
“That one seems obvious,” Boulder said.
“Right,” Perelli said. “It was around the time of his release. Remember, Roberto Martell pimps her date with Sperbeck at the Black Jet Bar. Leon likely couldn’t get it up, so he took it out on Sharla May. When I worked vice the ex-cons always had problems with hookers because prison messed them up.”
“That seems the most likely scenario for Sperbeck doing Sharla May,” Boulder said.
“Okay,” Grace said. “That brings us back to Quinn’s crazy theory on Sperbeck and corrupt cops being involved in the heist.”
“I think we have to ask Henry Wade some questions.” Boulder looked at his watch. “First we gotta move fast to get that alert out and hold a news conference. We’ll do it right here.”
Grace nodded and walked away to be alone as she thought of Brady Boland and her two homicides. This was so damn complicated. Nothing made sense.
Everything was at stake.
Was Jason’s father caught up in this?
Chapter Sixty-Three
T he snow-crowned peak of Mount Rainier rose before them from the Cascade range. They were somewhere between Elbe and Ashford, eastbound on 706.
After leaving Seattle, they didn’t speak. Jason’s old man listened to those sorrowful Johnny Cash ballads and stared at the lush forests rolling by.
As if the truth were out there and he was in desperate pursuit.
Jason feared his father was driving headlong toward a mental breakdown, like the time he showed up drunk in the Mirror newsroom. Man, he had to do something, anything to avoid it.
His old man was carrying a gun now.
“Dad, you’ve got to talk to me! Tell me what’s going on!”
His father adjusted his grip on the wheel. His jaw tensed but he refused to answer.
“Dad, tell me the truth about you and Leon Sperbeck.”
“Reach under your seat.”
Jason’s hand felt around, finding the paper bag and the glass-hard problem inside as he produced the unopened bottle of whiskey.
“Give it to me.”
“Dad, no.”
“Give me the damn bottle.”
The liquid swished as he handed it to him. His father opened his window and threw the bottle away. Jason heard it smash into the ditch behind them.
“I’m doing this sober,” he said. “Vern and I get to the call and we come on Sperbeck. Dead cold. Fleeing with a gun in his hand. This thing all goes down in seconds. Seconds. But it feels like slow motion because my heart’s going like a jackhammer.
“Sperbeck’s cornered. We’ve got him. We draw down on him, order him to drop his weapon, get on the ground. Out of nowhere, this boy steps from a store looking for his mom. Sperbeck locks his arm around the kid’s neck, drilling his gun into the kid’s head.
“He’s eight years old and he’s looking at me. Scared out of his mind. Vern’s shouting tactics at me. There’s no time to do anything, we’re spreading out, edging closer, one of us is going to get a shot at Sperbeck.
“We’re screaming at him to drop his gun, let the kid go. But Sperbeck’s scared, he knows he’s going down and he’s going to take all of us with him. I could see the boy’s eyes. He’s staring at me, they’re wild, like someone who’s fallen from a cliff.
“Vern’s closing in on the left, I’m closing in on the right. Sperbeck’s sweeping the boy back and forth but he knows he’s exposed on one side and we’re going to take him.
“That’s when we hear sirens. Backup is coming fast. Time’s up.
“Sperbeck makes his move and it happens, he swings to one side, taking a shot at Vern. Vern finds cover but Sperbeck pins him, fires again, missing Vern both times, but somehow the kid has broken free.
“The boy’s eyes are huge as he runs directly to me. Over the kid’s shoulder and down my sight, I’ve got a bead on Sperbeck and see him take aim toward me and the kid who’s between us.
“The boy’s large in front of me running at me and I’m screaming for him to get on the ground, waving him down as I see Sperbeck’s trigger finger pulling.
“I fire.
“It’s loud, there’s muzzle flash and smoke, so I don’t see until it clears and the boy’s on the ground. Bleeding. My gut convulses, Vern jumps Sperbeck, cuffs him, and I go to the boy.
“The kid’s eyes were wide and he was searching mine. His jaw started to move and he made these soft breathing sounds as the sirens got louder and I held him. He was warm but so still. I held him until everything drained from him and the paramedics came and I’m on the ground holding him and his warm blood is all over me and Vern is shouting and the paramedics are shouting and the sirens, the damn sirens, are wailing and somebody started screaming.
“The boy’s mother, who got separated from him in the department store, is shrieking and punching me. Later they told me that I wouldn’t give the kid up, that I wouldn’t let him go, and it was true because I knew that if I held on to him then he wouldn’t leave this earth, he’d still be alive to grow up and live a good life and I wouldn’t have to spend the rest of mine knowing that I’d killed him.”
His old man swallowed.
“I still see his face. I’ve always seen his face because I’ve never been able to forgive myself.”
Jason turned away as his father exhaled slowly.
A few miles later, they saw a sign pointing the way to Wolf Tooth Creek, and they turned off 706 and into the backcountry.
“What happened afterward, Dad?”
“Vern swore I missed and that Sperbeck had actually fired at the same time. That Sperbeck killed the kid while trying to shoot me. The court gave weight to Vern’s statement.”
“What about the autopsy, ballistics, witnesses?”
“The few witnesses gave conflicting accounts. Ballistics was inconclusive. Sperbeck had just come from around the corner where he was involved in the shootout that injured the armored-car guards.”
“And the autopsy?”
“It said the boy died from a single gunshot. The bullet tore clear through him but the medical examiner couldn’t conclude, beyond doubt, the direction, because the child actually had been turning and spun when he was struck, it had entered his side.”
“Did they recover the bullet?”
“No, but the ME said the caliber was similar to what was issued to us at the time and Sperbeck was using the same type of weapon.”
“Sperbeck could’ve walked on the boy.”
“No. While the judge said it was inconclusive as to who shot the boy, he said Sperbeck’s crime contrib
uted to the child’s death. And we had Sperbeck on everything else, although his lawyer implied that police were covering up a botched investigation. There was no jury trial. Sperbeck admitted guilt to everything but killing the child. It was understandable because he could’ve faced the death penalty. In the end, the judge gave him twenty-five years.”
“Dad, I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say. I need to find Sperbeck. I’ve been tormented by that day for too long. I think I’m owed the truth. We’re going to stop up ahead.”
Jason’s dad stopped his pickup at the pumps of Wolf Tooth Gas and Grocery. The station was a log cabin, built of hand-hewn cedar logs with cedar shingles. It had a snack counter, gift shop, and small two-bay garage.
While his dad started filling the truck, Jason got out and gazed toward the mountain.
After all these years, his father had at last told him about his past.
It was good that he did it, but man…
The boy, then his partner.
And now Sperbeck.
Jason thought his old man’s pathological pursuit of Sperbeck could end up doing him more harm than good. Maybe he should try to convince him to turn around, go home, and take things one step at a time. Maybe see a shrink again.
“Want anything from the store, Dad?”
“No, I’ll meet you there. I want to check the oil.”
Walking toward the store, Jason felt his cell phone in his pocket and decided to check for messages. Aside from his dad’s bombshell, he was uneasy that he’d been out of touch this morning. Surprisingly, it indicated a strong signal.
What was this?
Six missed calls from this morning. Two from Eldon Reep, one from Cassie Appleton, and three from Grace Garner.
What the hell happened? He must’ve lost his signal somewhere along the way. Damn it. As he entered the store, Jason called Garner.
“Homicide. Garner.”
“Grace, it’s Wade. What’s up?”
“Where the hell are you?”
Chapter Sixty-Four
“ W e’ve got a child abduction tied to the nun’s murder!” Grace Garner said.
“Jesus!”
Jason drew stares from the counter from an unshaven barrel-chested man in a lumberjack’s shirt reading a paper behind the register. Beside the man, a girl, who looked about twelve, turned from watching the TV on the shelf, near the mounted head of a Rocky Mountain Elk with a twelve-point rack.
“Jason, the kidnapping suspect may have a link to your father,” Grace said.
“What?” Keeping his voice low, he went deeper into the store, behind shelves with canned beans, soup, chili. “My father? How?”
“From your dad’s time as a cop. He responded to an armored-car heist. A child died in a hostage taking. Three point three million was never recov-”
“Oh my God.”
“We’re looking for Leon Dean Sperbeck, who did twenty-five years”-Jason saw his dad paying the lumberjack guy at the cash-“We believe Sperbeck’s responsible for Sister Anne’s death. I’m going out on a limb telling you, but we’re facing a life-and-death situation. The abduction could all be tied to the money from the old heist, your information, Sister Anne, and your dad.”
“What the hell? I don’t believe this.”
“After Sperbeck was released, he staged his death and now he’s looking for the money. An insurance investigator reviewing the case has implicated your father, alleging a cover-up of the facts of the crime to hide the cash. He says he’s got evidence your father’s recently been in contact with Sperbeck-Jason-?”
As Grace continued, the pieces began aligning.
Except one didn’t fit. Christ, it couldn’t fit.
“-has implicated your father, alleging a cover-up to hide the cash-”
At the counter, his old man was showing Sperbeck’s photo to the lumberjack man and the girl.
Cripes! The man and the girl started nodding.
“-Jason, where’s your father? We need to talk to him.”
“Grace, we might know where Sperbeck is.”
“Where? He’s threatening to kill that little boy. Tell me, where you are!”
“Wolf Tooth Creek at a gas station off 706. I think he’s driving a 95 Chrysler Concorde. Blue.”
“That’s right! Do you see him?”
“No. I’ve got to go.”
“Wait! Jason!”
“That’s him,” the girl pointed to the TV. “The man in your picture was here!”
The show had been interrupted with a burst-tone alert, three shrill beeps, then the message, followed by pictures of Brady Boland, aged twelve, and Leon Dean Sperbeck, wanted for two homicides. More information about Brady’s need of medication and Sperbeck’s car crawled across the bottom of the screen.
“That’s him. I swear!” Lumberjack man said. “They left not two minutes before you. Sat here for the longest time waiting on a fan belt from McKenna. Todd told him it wouldn’t hold. That he’d have to creep along because his Chrysler’s in sorry shape.”
“Did you see a boy with him?”
“No, but he had a lot of junk heaped in the back. Kid could’ve been in there sleeping.”
“Which way did he go?” Jason’s dad asked.
“Same way you was headed. To the cabins. Turn left after the bridge and go ten miles down Cougar Ridge, the old dirt logging road.” Lumberjack man reached for his phone. “I’m calling Pierce County Sheriff’s deputies. There must be a reward.”
Trees blurred by Jason and his dad as the needle on the Ford Ranger pickup reached ninety-five on the speedometer. Stones popcorned under the truck as it chewed up Cougar Ridge, leaving dust clouds in its wake.
“What did you find out on your call, son?”
Jason was driving and shot his old man a glance.
“Grace Garner says the insurance investigator suspects that you were actually involved in the robbery; that there was some kind of cover-up linked to the money.”
His father stared straight ahead. In the distance he saw a fading dust curtain.
“We’re gaining on him. Push it harder. She’ll take it.”
“Damn it, Dad! What really happened that day?”
“Quinn’s a smart-ass punk who doesn’t know shit!”
“Did a cop kill that boy? Did Vern? Was there some sort of cover-up? Does Sperbeck know the truth?”
“Christ, look at my fucking life! Look at what happened to me, Jason!”
They both caught the chrome glint of a rear bumper half-concealed like a phantom in the dust ahead. The vehicle was dark blue.
“Hang on!”
Jason accelerated, the Ford roared along the narrow route, bobbing on its sudden hills and valleys, sunlight flashing through the thick woods, branches slapping the body as stones boiled against its undercarriage. Jason’s ears pounded with each curve as they gained on the car.
“It’s him!” his old man said. “It’s a Chrylser Concorde.”
They saw Sperbeck behind the wheel, then Jason’s skin prickled when a small head surfaced from the backseat. They were suddenly looking into the frightened face of Brady Boland.
Henry Wade sucked in a deep breath before sliding a full magazine into his Glock.
“Jesus!” Jason said.
In the Concorde, Sperbeck shook his head and continued ranting about his twenty-five hard years of regret.
“-Hey pup, your old man was a first-class fool to bring his girlfriend in on the job. She was never right for it. I told him, but he wouldn’t listen. She fucked us good. It was not supposed to happen the way it did. Then the bitch wants me to ‘see the light’ after she tries to buy her way to heaven with my fucking money! Bitch. I sent her to hell where she belongs.”
Sperbeck snorted and spit out the window.
“You better hope your mom’s smarter than that dead bitch cause I got a special place picked out for you. Your mom ain’t ever going to see you again if she doesn’t find where your daddy h
id my money!”
Sperbeck turned his head to glance at Brady and met a ghost.
Henry Wade glared at him from two car lengths back-pointing at him to pull over.
“What the-! Goddamnit!” Sperbeck slammed his fists against the steering wheel. “God-fucking-damnit!”
Sperbeck smashed his foot on the gas pedal and the Chrylser rocketed ahead. The pickup was in better shape and stayed close, ahead of the dust the car was kicking up. The Concorde grabbed air over the next rise, coming down hard and heavy, scraping the oil pan, sliding and grinding on loose gravel.
“Shit!”
A bang sounded under the hood as the fan belt snapped. The steering wheel shuffled through Sperbeck’s hands and he struggled in vain for control before the Concorde slid down an embankment, rolling over small trees in a storm of stones, dust, and crumpling metal.
It came to rest on its side against a stand of cedar and pine.
Brady had a small cut on his head but was okay, cushioned by the sleeping bags and clutter in the back. Crawling out of the wreck, he saw a pair of shoes, then Sperbeck seized his arm, hoisted him to his feet, pulling him as they ran, crashing against branches and trees.
“Come on!”
Brady glanced behind them at the two figures gaining on them, then back at Sperbeck, who yanked on his arm. Brady saw the gun in his hand and struggled. They splashed across a creek, the cold water reaching up to Brady’s thighs.
They scrambled up the meadow, up a hill toward a clearing.
Brady’s legs ached. His ears roared from the blood rush.
The men were getting closer.
Cresting a hill, they’d come to a cliff and a dead drop of some two hundred feet. Sperbeck turned. The men were thirty yards away.
Sperbeck had nowhere to go.
He pulled Brady closer to him, edging back to within ten feet of the cliff.
The men were twenty yards away and separating. One going left. One going right.
Sperbeck used Brady as a shield and placed his gun to the boy’s head.
“You’re going to give me your keys and let me walk out of here.”