I fell so hard that the breath rushed from my body as a shot roared out above me. Then there was nothing but silence. Except for the creak of the rope, which squeaked like a rusty metronome counting down the last moments of Kyle’s life. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Lungren’s body swung like a pendulum until the rope eventually came to a stop, the snow below soaked with blood.
I stared in disbelief at where his head had once been. Then I turned my own head away and threw up.
Fifteen
The atmosphere in the FBI office in Browning was so tense, I thought the very air would shatter if I hiccupped. I half-expected that Running and I would be ordered to start piling sandbags around the building to fortify defenses. We had committed the ultimate sin in the West: we’d pissed off the local militia.
“What the hell did you two geniuses think you were doing?” demanded FBI agent Howard Dixon. “Talk about your royal screw-ups!”
Dixon looked much like the room—worn out and badly in need of help. His two-man crew was off investigating drug and murder charges on other parts of the reservation. That meant he’d been left alone to deal with us today.
“Look, grizzlies are being whacked. We wanted to catch the perp, and the best way to do that was to lure him into his own trap,” Matthew calmly responded.
“Well, congratulations, boy-o. You did one hell of a job.”
Even Dixon’s dingy white shirt looked upset. Its wrinkled tail was AWOL, having escaped his pants to flap around in protest. Dixon ran a hand over his bare scalp in frustration.
“The fact is, Kyle Lungren wouldn’t have committed suicide if the bear gallbladder trade was all he was involved in,” I piped up, adding my two cents. “He’d have received a slap on the wrist from the system, and you know that as well as I do. There has to be something bigger going on.”
“Agent Porter is absolutely right,” Running concurred. “Come on, Dixon—think about it. He acted out of desperation. He knew we were on his trail and was afraid that we’d uncover something of more consequence.”
“My, my. Don’t you two have the little support tag team going,” Dixon said contemptuously. “Next you’re going to tell me that he wasn’t acting alone.”
“You’re right. That’s why he did the only thing he could—he claimed that no one else was involved, and then removed himself from the equation. It’s the ultimate patriotic act for these guys: it takes the heat off his cohorts and allows them to carry on with their work. The tactic makes perfect military sense,” Matthew insisted.
Dixon flung a folder across his desk in disgust. “Thanks for the lesson in deep cover, Rambo. I’ll be sure to confer with the two of you the next time we’re about to be invaded by a foreign country. But right now, I’m trying to put a lid on the possibility of another Oklahoma City happening right here in Browning!”
“Why is it that you guys are always such assholes?” Oops! Did I just say that? “You’d think we handed Lungren the gun and told him to shoot himself!”
“You might as well have, hotshot,” Dixon snapped, skewering me with a glare. “You presented him with the perfect opportunity to martyr himself. It’s basic Psych 101—or doesn’t Fish and Wildlife hire college grads?”
“Sure, but unlike FBI recruits, we don’t come off a factory line with one universal brain,” I volleyed back.
“All right, that’s enough!” Running intervened.
“Jesus Christ, I’d have thought at least you knew better, Running. You grew up in this damn place. I never imagined you’d let personal history get in the way,” Dixon attacked.
“I didn’t,” Matthew replied between clenched teeth.
The two conducted a standoff until Dixon blinked.
“I don’t have time for this crap. So here’s what I want you to do: don’t go home—either of you—until we get this thing sorted out. I want you both to stay at the Big Sky Motel in Cut Bank using these assumed names. It’s for your own safety.”
I glanced at the slip of paper. Edith Freehold. Now I knew Dixon didn’t like me.
Running didn’t fare any better. “Archie Buckmeister?”
“Yeah. It’s my brother-in-law’s name. You got a problem with that?” Dixon growled. “Both of you are to lay low for the next couple of days. We’re flying in a few more agents to work on the case, because the next forty-eight hours are going to be crucial. We’ve got to reassure the Lungrens that we’re doing everything possible to investigate the death of their son. That means I want the two of you available for questioning at a moment’s notice.”
Dixon threw Running a set of keys. “Here. I rented an unmarked vehicle for you. Make sure you’re not being followed to the motel.”
The significance of what had actually taken place finally began to sink in. Running and I were now walking targets for the militia. We started to head out the door, only to have Dixon’s voice stop us.
“Oh yeah—and one other thing. Do us all a favor and don’t get into any more trouble.”
Neither of us spoke as Running drove toward Cut Bank. It was as though we’d just been banished to Elba. I wondered if this was how Benny Gugliani had felt upon being forced to move and change his name.
We checked in as Edith and Archie and received side-by-side rooms in a run-down motel that the AAA would never have recommended.
“What do you say, Edith? Feel like grabbing some dinner?” Matthew teased.
“Oh God, please don’t call me that. I feel as though we’re trapped in a bad rerun of All in the Family.”
“You can’t say Dixon doesn’t have a sense of humor,” Matthew agreed.
“I’ve got to take a shower or I’m going to crawl out of my skin. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be ready.”
“Sure. We can pick up a couple of toothbrushes and whatever else you need while we’re out.”
I’d forgotten about that. I had none of the essentials with me—makeup, hairbrush, mouthwash, deodorant. It appeared that Running was about to see me at my worst—au naturel.
I stepped into the shower and scrubbed as hard as I could, determined to wash away the horror of Kyle Lungren’s death. But there was no way I could get the image of him twisting round and round on that rope out of my mind—until I glanced down at my feet and imagined that the water coming off me was tinged the color of blood. I let out a muffled scream. It was Psycho all over again.
My heart pounded so hard I nearly passed out. There was a reason I’d taken baths rather than showers until I was nearly thirty years old. I stared in horror as the pinkish water playfully curled around my toes.
The illusion refused to dissipate until Lungren’s rope finally came to a standstill and the last of Kyle’s life had hypnotically circled down the drain. I rubbed my eyes and the water ran clear again. Perhaps it was a sign that Kyle was now through with me.
I was drying off with the flimsiest of cheap towels when my cell phone rang. Sally didn’t know I was back up here yet. That left either Dixon or my boss calling to scream. Unless it was Matthew checking to see if I was ready.
“Hello?” I answered, hoping it was door number three.
“I was wrong about you, Porter,” a female voice hissed. “You are the beast. The storm is coming and you’re going to pay for your sins!”
Honey Lungren hung up before I could answer. I remained standing there, nude and shivering in the cold. I turned up the room’s tiny heater, but my teeth continued to chatter. Kyle Lungren was once again twisting upside down on that rope. I quickly got dressed and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind me.
Running was already in the Explorer with its heater turned on, and we drove to a McDonald’s, where we ordered some comfort food—four Big Macs, two large fries, and a couple of Cokes. After that, Matthew dropped me off at a drugstore.
“Get what you need. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
Though the owner had been ready to close shop, he reluctantly let me in. He was thoroughly pleased by the time I was through. My “essentials�
�� had mushroomed into body lotion, shampoo, and crème rinse, along with an embarrassing amount of I-can’t-live-without-it makeup.
“Christ! It looks like you’ve given the economy of Cut Bank quite a boost. I thought we were only staying a few days,” Matthew remarked as he picked me up with my booty.
“Hey, a gal needs what a gal needs.” I spotted his stash from the grocery store and snuck a peak. Inside was a box of Oreos and a bottle of red wine. “I see that you picked up your own essentials.”
“Damn straight.”
I knew there was a good reason why I liked this guy; I just hoped he believed in sharing. We headed back to the motel, where we had our McDinner in my room. Matthew opened the wine while I scrounged around in the bathroom and returned with two plastic cups. He poured, swirled and sniffed before taking a sip.
I was just glad for anything that helped numb the events of the day.
“So, do you want to tell me what this mysterious connection is between you and the Lungrens, or am I supposed to pretend that I haven’t picked up on it?”
“What do you want to know?” Matthew mumbled between bites of his Big Mac.
I was tempted to reach over and wipe a dab of ketchup from his mouth, but decided it would be best to keep my hands to myself.
“For starters, how does Kyle’s father know you were in the military?”
“Because he was my commander in Desert Storm.”
I nearly dropped my fries in my lap. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“It gets even better.” Matthew reached over and grabbed a handful of my fries, having already polished off his own. “You don’t mind, do you?”
I mourned the loss of so much as one stringy little potato. “Of course not. Help yourself.” I figured it was a down payment on my share of the Oreos. “So fill me in. What’s the scoop?”
Running took a moment to appraise me before dropping his bombshell. “Rafe Lungren’s first wife, who was Kyle’s mom, left him to marry my father.”
This time my fries did fall out of my hand. “She’s your stepmother? Now I know you’re putting me on.” This was better than a soap opera!
“That’s why Kyle hated me so much. Not only did I see more of his own mother than he did, but I was closer to her than he ever was. She was never allowed back on the compound to visit him, and Kyle was prohibited from setting foot on the reservation.”
Things were beginning to make more sense. “How does she feel about the situation?”
“She died a few years ago, but I know that she never regretted her choice.”
“Does Rafe Lungren hate you, as well?” I asked.
Matt opened the bag of Oreos and offered them to me. I demurely took only four.
“You better believe it. Has Sally told you about her son?”
“I know that the two of you served together and that he was killed by friendly fire.” I twisted the top layer off an Oreo and devoured its creamy center, after which I took tiny bites of the cookie, methodically turning it like a wheel until nothing was left.
“I don’t know how friendly it was. I’ll tell you something that I’ve never even told Sally.”
The fact that I was about to learn a secret was enough to give me goose bumps.
“Justin stepped in front of me at the moment the bullet was fired. I firmly believe it came from Lungren’s rifle and that the bullet was meant for me.”
That helped to explain plenty.
“And Lungren was never convicted?”
“You’re forgetting those two all-important words—friendly fire. Besides, I was never able to prove it. The incident was essentially covered up.”
“But you’re absolutely certain that Lungren was the shooter?”
“Without the shadow of a doubt.” Running popped an Oreo into his mouth. “Lungren changed after Desert Storm. Don’t get me wrong: he was always a bigot, but he also loved this country. Something happened in Kuwait. He came back disgusted with the government. That’s when he decided there was some sort of one-world conspiracy at work, and started his own militia group.”
“Funny, but the man didn’t seem all that lethal to me when we met. Honey Lungren was the scary one.” Her recent phone call had cemented my initial impression.
Matt’s hand touched mine and I instinctively jerked. Once again, there was that electrical current that surged through me. “Don’t let him fool you. Lungren’s a coyote. Don’t ever turn your back on the man.”
Maybe it was the wine, or having Matt confide in me, that made the situation feel so intimate, but I began to babble out of sheer nervousness. “Okay, we both agree that Kyle shot himself to throw us off the trail of something. Do you have any idea what it might be?”
Running must have sensed my discomfort. He removed his hand, leaving my skin feeling preternaturally cold.
“My guess is that the group is involved big time in the illegal sale of arms. That would bring in plenty of money.”
I drained my plastic cup and Matthew refilled it. Since the wine helped warm me, I drank a little more.
“Would you happen to remember the names of some of the people on the rez who are mysteriously missing, or believed to have been killed by a grizzly?”
“Sure. You’ve got Harley Thunder, Mary Crane, Doris Swiftdeer, Ira Blackman, and both Galen and Nancy Come-By-Night. And Helen Lungren Running.” Matthew’s eyes narrowed and the yellow glints sprang to life. “Why? What’s your sudden interest in this?”
I looked at Running, and every cell in my body began to thrum like individual spark plugs. If I were a car, I’d have been a Maserati raring to go. Equally disconcerting was that I could feel the same sexual tension radiating from him. I tried to cover it, but my cheeks burned like two hot plates.
“I don’t know. I just have a gut feeling that there might be some sort of connection.”
Though I never saw him move, Running was suddenly sitting beside me.
“And what kind of connection would that be? On the one hand, you had Kyle killing bears to supply the Asian medicinal trade. On the other end of the spectrum are a number of unsolved cases involving people who have turned up dead or missing. Of course, not a whole lot can get done when the only ones allowed to investigate are three overworked FBI agents. It’s easier to bury the cases than deal with them. Still the gallbladder trade and the exploding crime rate are two totally separate issues—or am I missing something here?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but I’m certain there’s a connection. Just think about it. All that’s ever been found of the victims are their bones, which have been chomped on by grizzlies. Doesn’t it strike you as odd that evidence continually gets destroyed in this manner? What better way for a clever serial killer to get rid of bodies and, at the same time, disguise a rash of murders?”
Matthew sighed and calmly shook his head at my theory, totally pissing me off.
“Let me get this straight. You believe there’s a serial killer loose on the rez who lures in bears with the ulterior motive of having them dispose of his victims? That is, of course, when he’s not just killing the critters and taking their gallbladders to make a few extra bucks. So who is this guy? The Hannibal Lecter of the Rockies?”
When he put it that way, my hunch did sound pretty improbable.
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re trying to juggle the pieces any which way you can, so that the culprits turn out to be the United Christian Patriots?” he asked.
It was true, though I hadn’t realized it until Matthew said it aloud. Now that he had, I was more convinced than ever that I was on the right track.
“Listen, I discovered something that I haven’t shared with you yet. Did you know that Doc Hutchins lives on the militia compound?”
Running shrugged. “Of course. It’s common knowledge.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?” I asked, perplexed at his attitude.
“It’s not as if we have any choice when it comes to medical care. All that matters is that Hutchins doe
s his job, and as far as I can tell, that’s not a problem.”
I gritted my teeth and continued. “Okay, then. How about this? Hutchins was part of a Medicare scam involving the mob a few years ago. He agreed to testify against them if he was placed in the federal witness protection program. The government sent him here.”
I expected Matthew to howl in indignation. Instead he split the last of the wine between our two cups.
“I believe you, Rachel, and the whole thing sucks. Still, you’re talking about misappropriation of government funds, not some deranged psycho killing Indians on the Blackfeet reservation.”
“Then that’s it? You believe Kyle was solely responsible for slaughtering all those grizzlies and no one else?”
Running leaned in close, and my pulse automatically quickened. “I didn’t say that. Our case is far from over; Kyle was only a bit player. There’s obviously a whole group at work. I’m also convinced the gallbladder trade is just the tip of the iceberg and that something much larger is going on. Maybe it’s weapons, and maybe it’s not.”
He touched his cup to mine, as if he were about to make a toast. “Either way, I have no intention of dropping the ball at this point. That would mean Kyle had achieved what he’d wanted, and I’m not about to let him win. But you’re pushing too hard, Rachel. You have to allow situations to develop on their own. Not everything will run on your time schedule.”
Running was right. I did live by my own timetable—one in which the loss of a single second was totally reprehensible. There was still far too much to do. I’d been trotting through life up until my mother’s death. Now, just as with this case, I intended to attack it at full gallop. I could feel my own mortality slipping away and was painfully aware that it might run out at any moment. It gave me the courage to ask a question I might not otherwise have dared.
“Matt, you said that your stepmother died. But she’s on the list of those who are missing. So how do you know that she didn’t just decide to walk away one day and never look back?”
Running studied me and his eyes softened, as though he understood the aching sense of emptiness that filled my soul. I felt as if I’d been deserted.
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