FOURTEEN
Since it was Sunday and her day off, she’d driven her own truck to church. She climbed inside and grabbed her cell phone from the console. Hesitated, then called Hal’s private number. She hadn’t seen him in church, but maybe he was at home with his ill wife.
He answered on the fourth ring. “Megan. What’s up?”
“You know that Carl Wilson is missing.”
“Jim called me last night and said the guy wandered off. Any news? Wait—this is your day off. Where are you?”
“In the church parking lot.”
“Then you’re running mighty late.”
“I was there, and I left. I don’t think Carl wandered off. He couldn’t have. I still think he was kidnapped.”
There was a long silence. “Why do you think that?”
“Just consider what we know. He wasn’t even verbal, and he was flat in bed. The hospital staff thinks he woke up, got confused and wandered away. Maybe that’s possible, but with all of the security cameras and door alarms, it would have taken a miracle for him to avoid both the staff and cameras, and disarm the doors.”
“True.”
“And why would he want to do that, anyway?”
“Confusion?”
“I just don’t buy it. But he sure would be a valuable commodity to someone. He’s the one person who can identify the driver of the other vehicle in his accident—a man who appears to be tied to the Full Moon killings. And now, coincidentally, Arnold Lane has come up missing. A suspect.”
“Go on.”
“Lane could’ve read all about the accident and Carl in the local newspaper. Realized that he had an opportunity to get rid of the man who’d seen his face. He could’ve slipped into the hospital undetected during visiting hours, then dragged Carl out. He could’ve decided to kill him and hide the body, or maybe dumped him in some remote area, figuring the guy would die anyway without care and there’d still be the question of whether or not Carl had escaped the hospital on his own.”
“Sounds more than plausible to me. Hold on.” Hal came back on the phone a few seconds later and sighed. “Looks to me like Jim and Wes got called in for overtime four hours last night, and now they’re back on the day shift as scheduled. This isn’t good. It just isn’t good.”
“True. But we’re managing.”
“You should talk Anders into coming on board on a permanent basis, Meg. He’s got experience. Big-city stuff. He could be a real asset.”
“He’s already said he’s not interested.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe he’d agree to ongoing work on a consultant basis, but he said he wouldn’t consider anything more.”
“Still…”
“And you know the county wouldn’t approve another full-time position, anyway. It’s just a matter of getting our regular guys back on the schedule…unless someone decides to quit or retire.”
As Hal wanted to do.
What would it be like to take his place, and have Scott working under her…or vice versa? Interesting thought.
“It’s my day off, but I don’t want to take it. Give it to me later.” She turned on the ignition of her truck and threw it into gear. “I’ll go out to my place and switch vehicles, and I’ll call dispatch on the way. Everyone needs to be on the lookout for Carl, county wide.”
“I’ll be in a little later, too.” Hal heaved another sigh. “And in the meantime, I’ll be praying that circling vultures don’t lead us to him. We need his testimony because right now it’s all we got.”
With the highway patrol and sheriff’s department on alert, there were more officers searching. But in a mountainous area like Marshall County, it still didn’t amount to much. Now and then the bodies of hikers missing several years or more turned up, and those accidental deaths weren’t even intentionally hidden.
So the chances of finding Carl Wilson’s body—if it had been buried in a well-hidden place—were roughly zero.
Still, every available officer joined in the search. On Wednesday, twenty volunteers on the search and rescue team came in with horses and dogs, and began scouring the country around Copper Cliff.
The dogs all hit on a scent from the side door of the hospital to the alley behind the hospital, but there the scent ended. So Carl had been put in a vehicle—but what then?
The team members fanned out, covered old timber roads and trails in a five-mile radius, then ten. Thirty more riders came from the neighboring county with horses and dogs, riding along highways and into government land.
The second day passed. A third.
And then the call came in from a man covering the Eagle Butte area five miles west of town. Megan arrived just minutes before the rescue squad and EMTs.
A man stood by the side of the gravel road holding the reins of a buckskin mare, his search and rescue dog leashed at his side. “I’m not sure about this one,” he said slowly, his voice grim. “I’ve got a body down there, but it looks like it’s been there awhile, and it’s been in the sun. It may or may not be the guy you’re looking for.”
Megan nodded, already rehearsing the difficult words she would have to say to Carl Wilson’s daughter. “Where is it?”
He pointed to the bottom of a deep, rocky ravine. “Be careful. It’s a tricky climb down, and I had some trouble getting out of there on the way back up.”
Even from up here she could smell the unique, nauseating stench of a human cadaver. “Can you wait here and flag down the emergency vehicles when they arrive?”
“Of course.”
She studied the steep slope, then started down at an angle, loose rock giving way under her feet and careening to the bottom way below. Halfway down, she could make out a leg protruding from a clump of sagebrush.
But as she drew closer, something wasn’t right.
Carl Wilson was around five-foot-nine. Stocky—probably around one-ninety, or so. This body was much bigger, and it wasn’t just due to the bloating of decomposition.
She reached the bottom, scanned the area for hazards, then held a tissue at her nose as she walked up to the body for a closer look. She did a double take.
The guy was dead, all right. Someone had made sure of that.
The body was sprawled like a rag doll on the rocks, the shirt torn away by its long, rocky trip down into the ravine. She could see two bullet wounds in his chest.
But it wasn’t the condition of the body that made her take a second look. It was the identity of the victim.
This wasn’t the truck driver.
It was Arnold Lane, and someone had wanted to make very, very sure he died.
Which meant Carl Wilson was still missing.
The real killer was still out there.
And if he stayed true to his pattern, there were just eleven days left before he’d strike again.
Megan pulled into her drive at eight-thirty and wearily climbed out of her patrol car.
It had been a long, long day.
Arnold Lane had been positively identified, and that eliminated their most likely suspect. But was his death related, or had he simply ticked off one too many people with his charming personality?
Hal and Jim were investigating his activities during his absences from the ranch but had come up dry so far, and that left far too many unanswered questions.
She whistled for Buddy and waited to hear the dog door slap shut at the back of the house, and for Buddy to come barreling around the side of the house to clamber at the gate of the chain-link fence as he always did, begging for attention. With every passing day, he seemed brighter, stronger and more alert, acting more and more like a pup than an old dog in his joy over his new home.
But the little door didn’t slap shut.
No dog appeared.
“Buddy?”
An uneasy feeling crawled through her as she let herself into the yard and walked around the house. Where was he?
Inside, her footsteps echoed in the empty house. Even before she walked through every room, she sensed that she was c
ompletely alone. If the dog had died, she was going to be heartbroken. “Oh, Buddy,” she whispered. “Where are you?”
But he simply wasn’t here. The yard gate had been securely fastened. And she knew he wasn’t agile enough to leap the fence, which left only the possibility of theft. But who would steal a dog?
Mystified, she looked through the two bedrooms once more, checking under beds and in the corners. And then she saw a folded piece of paper tucked under a fat sandalwood candle on the dresser.
She lifted the candle, carefully opened the piece of paper by its edges, and despite all of her years in law enforcement, her heart caught in her throat.
Bang. You’re dead.
You could’ve been, if you were here.
Sorry I missed you—but there will be another time. I promise you that.
Anger rushed through her as she read the note, then read it a second time. Someone had been here. In her house. Violating her personal space. What if she’d been asleep and hadn’t heard him break into the house?
She could defend herself in hand-to-hand combat. Packed a gun and shot better than ninety-eight percent on her marksmanship tests every quarter. But she was still vulnerable—as anyone was.
And the mere presence of this note made that message perfectly clear.
FIFTEEN
Scott called an hour later and said he was stopping by. Calling ahead was a wise decision. If he hadn’t, she would’ve had her service revolver loaded and ready at the first sound of a vehicle coming up the lane.
She met him out in the driveway. “What’s up?”
“You sounded tense on the phone just now,” he said, hooking his elbow in the open window of his truck and draping his other hand over the top of the steering wheel. Next to him, Jasper watched her expectantly, his tongue lolling and his tail thumping on the seat. “I’ve been worried about you since you took off during church on Sunday. Is everything all right?”
“Not the best. I told Hal that he needed to hire you permanently, because we definitely need more help.”
“Did you also tell him that I’m not interested?”
“Nope.” She grinned. “I figured we could work on that little detail later. Hal is such a nice guy that it can be very hard to say no.”
Scott shifted in his seat and glanced behind her, then gave her a quizzical look. “Is that a gun at the small of your back?”
She’d left her T-shirt untucked to better mask her lower-back holster, but he certainly had a good eye for detail. “Could be.”
His eyes flashed with instant curiosity. “Really?”
She snorted. “And you say you have no interest in being a cop.”
“I don’t. So what is it?”
“My backup weapon. Glock 23, 9mm.”
“Nice. So what’s going on?”
Despite her initial reservations about working with him, she’d come to trust him and his sharp perceptions. Compared to working with Wes or Ewan, his thoughtful analysis of details was a complete breath of fresh air. “This week’s newspaper will be running a story on the body found in the ravine. We’re probably going to see the panic level rise around here…and start receiving a lot more calls concerning possible tips.” He nodded.
She considered her words carefully. “When Carl Wilson disappeared from his hospital bed, it seemed possible that he could’ve been kidnapped by Arnold Lane, our prime suspect in the serial killings.”
“True. If Lane drove that black pickup and caused Carl’s accident, he might’ve feared that Carl could identify him.”
“It just got more complicated than that. A search-and-rescue dog found Lane’s body this morning. He’d been murdered and dumped in a ravine.”
Scott thought for a minute. “Obviously a very ill, older man like Carl couldn’t have done it.”
“Not a chance.”
“So you’ve got someone else out there…someone with a vested interest in getting Lane out of the way.” Scott frowned as he stepped out of his truck, closed the door and leaned against it. “Someone who may or may not be tied to the serial murders.”
“Exactly.” She glanced over her shoulder at the house.
He followed her gaze. “Where’s your dog? Is he all right?”
Scott wasn’t part of the sheriff’s department. He hadn’t been around long enough to build the kind of unshakable trust between them that could grow only over years of shared experiences.
And yet her gut instinct told her that if she was ever in serious trouble out here, he’d be a powerful ally. And it didn’t take much thought to realize that he’d be the one she should call first.
“Buddy was missing when I got home. I searched everywhere and ultimately found him chained inside the barn.”
“Something you never do?”
“Of course not. He can let himself in and out of the house through a dog door, and he has a locked, fenced yard. So someone was here while I was gone.”
“Kind of coincidental, isn’t it—with everything that’s been happening?” Scott’s words were light, but his eyes were dark with concern.
She sighed. “It’s no coincidence. Someone wanted to deliver a message, to remind me that I’m vulnerable. It isn’t the first time it’s happened. And in case I didn’t understand the implied message, he left a note.”
A muscle at the side of Scott’s jaw ticked. “This evening.”
“Yep.”
“Have you called the sheriff’s office?”
“I work there. I don’t need to call for another deputy to come out and tell me what I already know.”
“Which is?”
“An unidentified man broke into my house. He terrified my dog—Buddy was shaking when I found him. The font style on the note matched the one I received before—and also matches a note carried by a victim that our rapist/serial killer set free. For some reason, this animal has targeted me personally. He’s daring me to catch him. But we aren’t closer to doing that than we were a month ago.”
“Arnold Lane’s death does seem to eliminate a suspect.”
“But we still don’t have any solid leads…other than the fact that the guy seems to have a laser printer and likes using pretty fonts when he writes me threatening notes.”
“And he has a particular interest in you. Which makes me think that once upon a time you either jilted him, arrested him, or did something to make him really mad.”
“I have no past boyfriends with wounded hearts, believe me. My two most serious relationships ended because the guys couldn’t deal with my career. I haven’t dated at all in a good long while.”
“What about enemies? Investment deals…arguments over land…legal suits…”
“This place was on the market for over two years before I bought it. The owners were relieved to finally make the sale. And with my salary and the mortgage on this place, I’m hardly looking into any investment schemes.”
“Any particularly nasty arrests?”
“Of course. A few. Not many people are happy when they end up with a hefty speeding ticket, or in jail, or prison. The domestic situations are the worst. But I’ve never had any revenge threats that I can think of.” She smiled a little, remembering a few. “Well, maybe by some drunks, but I’d bet they didn’t remember a word they said by the next day.”
“Any other ideas why someone would target you?”
“I’ve read a lot of studies. Some said that most rapists feel deep hostility toward women, so they take plea sure in physical coercion. It makes them feel like real ‘he-men,’ because they aren’t anything close.” She snorted in disgust. “I’m guessing the suspect is toying with me because I’m a woman and a cop—two figures he hates. If he can make me afraid, he’ll feel like a really tough guy. The ultimate power trip.”
“You can’t stay out here alone. Not anymore.”
“What? I should run and give him that satisfaction? No way.”
“Megan—”
“It isn’t going to happen.”
“Look
at your house.”
“What?”
“Take a good look, because that old wood siding won’t stop a bullet. With the right ammo—available anywhere—your friend could blast holes through those walls until all you had left was matchsticks, and you would be dead. If this guy is after you, you won’t be safe here.”
“I’m well aware of that. But I have a dog. I’m well armed.”
“Do you have friends in town?” He paced a few yards away, then turned back. “Any place else you can go? One of the other deputies, maybe?”
“No. If I did that, I’d only draw danger there. And honestly, I don’t think this guy plans anything like that. He’s getting his thrills with innocent victims. From me, he’s getting the pleasure of proving himself invincible and uncatchable.” She paused. “If that’s even a word.”
“But he will escalate.”
“I think we’re going to get him first.”
“There are no guarantees of that, Megan. Come to my place, then—at least until this is all over. I’ve got a lot more room there than I’ll ever use.”
“Now, that would look appropriate,” she said, trying for a light tone. “What would my mother say?”
“Does it matter, if your life is at stake?” He thought for a moment. “Then how about this. There’s only one, dead-end lane leading up to my property. Anyone coming up there would have to go right past my house, dog and Terminator.”
“Who?”
“That goose I bought at the auction. He goes after everything that walks, crawls or slithers and he’s even noisier than the donkey. He has the mailman terrified, so no one else will get past him, either.”
She managed a smile. “What a sweetie.”
“Look, there’s also a stone guest cottage a few hundred feet back of the house, with water and electricity. You could use it as long as you need to.”
She gently pulled her hand from his. “I still don’t—”
“Consider it a safe house. The previous owners were going to use it as a motherin-law’s place, so it’s pretty nice.”
“It’s really thoughtful of you to offer. I do appreciate it. But…I can’t accept. I need to stay right where I am.”
BIG SKY SECRETS 03: End Game Page 13