“You know you have an address book on your phone, don’t you?”
Silas shot his son a look and found the number he was looking for. He dialed it. It was the number of the man Kiel Pearce had worked for. During Silas’s investigation of that man’s murder the previous spring they had spoken a few times. “Mr. Flint, it’s Silas Pearson calling. I know it’s late, I hope I didn’t get you up or anything.”
“Um, no, you didn’t. I’m still at the office, actually. Sorry, you said it’s Silas Pearson?”
“Yes, you might remember we talked last year, when one of your boatmen—”
“Shit, of course, Pearson. You were the one who found Kiel in Paria Canyon. Have you heard something about Kiel’s murder? Have they found the killer?”
“Not yet, but I’ve got something I need to ask you. I’ve found—actually my son found—a photo of Kiel with a group that he led on the Colorado some years ago. All these people, except one, are now missing or dead.”
“Holy shit.”
“I was wondering if you could confirm for me when they did this trip together, who else was on the trip, and anything else you might think of that could be helpful.”
“Sure, who’s in the picture? I’ll look them up in our customer files.”
Silas told him the names.
“That’s your wife, isn’t it? I heard that a … that she had been found. I’m very sorry.”
Silas could hear Flint tapping on some keys. “That was a private trip. Guy named Tabby Dingwall arranged it. He paid for it too. Just him, McFarland, your wife, and Charleston. I have a note here that they requested Kiel as the boatman. They did their own meals, so it was just the five of them.”
“Dingwall paid?”
“That’s right. There wasn’t any problem with his check.”
“How much?”
“It was four grand.”
“I guess the PI business was good to him.”
“I don’t really have anything else here.”
Silas thanked him and hung up. “Something tells me Tabby Dingwall was more than just a wilderness-loving PI.”
32
KATIE RAIN WALKED BACK INTO the room and said, “Taylor is in Monticello and will assign an agent to do some digging. He is taking a connection between Dingwall’s death and the others seriously.”
“And what about Hayduke?” asked Silas.
“That’s a good question. Where is he right now?”
“Last I saw him was the morning before I drove to Boulder. He said he was going to camp out in the Monument.”
“Great, nearly two million acres of wilderness. He could be anywhere. We need to get him out of the desert and into a room where we can keep an eye on him and keep him safe until we figure out what happened to Tabby Dingwall. Taylor is going to call Kane and Garfield County, as well as the BLM, and ask them to keep an eye open for him.”
“What about Smith?”
“Silas—”
“Katie, I know that you can’t tell me the details. I just want to know where he is.”
“He’s left Utah.”
“What? He was supposed to be on a tour of the area talking about the Compact.”
“His office says there was urgent business in the Senate and he had to return to Washington on short notice. He canceled town halls in Hanksville and Green River.”
“Urgent business, in the Senate? Give me a break.”
“That’s what his office says. Taylor says there are no votes scheduled. We know where he is, though.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We know where he is. He’s on a plane.”
“How do you … you’re watching him, aren’t you? You’ve been watching him. For how long?”
“I can’t say. But yes, we are keeping track of the senator.”
Silas shook his head. “You know, if I hadn’t gotten involved in this, there wouldn’t be a case. You know that, right?”
“Silas, there is more to this than just Penelope’s murder. You’ve got to trust me that this thing with Smith is more complex. I don’t think Smith is your man, Silas. I don’t think he killed Kiel or Darcy. I doubt he had someone else do it. Penelope was killed five years ago, and we aren’t certain of Smith’s day-to-day movements at that time, so it’s possible he was involved in her death. Our theory, however, is that all three are related, so it stands to reason that he didn’t kill her either. Tabby is a wildcard, so I can’t even speculate on that.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Katie?”
“What I’m not telling you is that the FBI knows where Senator Smith was when Kiel and Darcy were killed. We know who he was talking to, and about what. Unless the man is Houdini, he isn’t likely to have been involved in their deaths, at least not in a material way. If that’s the case, then it stands to reason that he wasn’t involved in Penelope’s murder either.”
“What about Kresge, the reporter?”
“I don’t know anything about Kresge’s death.”
“Smith, or maybe someone who worked for him, could have been involved in that.”
“It’s a possibility, but that’s not what the FBI is interested in. And don’t ask, because I’m not going to tell you. I’m sorry, Silas, but if I cross that line, I’ll be looking for a new job.”
“You told me once that the FBI wouldn’t fire you because you’re one of three people doing your work for the G across the whole country.”
“There are lines, and then there are lines. This is one of the lines you don’t cross. Ever.”
Silas rubbed his face. “So what about Hayduke?”
“Like I said, the local sheriff’s offices and the BLM’s law enforcement division have been notified. If they find him, they’ll notify him of the situation and ask him to come in for a conversation.”
“Of all the people in this photo, he’s the only one we know is still alive.”
“What else can we do?”
“I don’t know what else the FBI can do, but in the morning, I’m going to go and look for him myself. He saved my life; I owe him that much.”
AFTER KATIE HAD left, Robbie said, “I’m coming with you.”
“I appreciate the offer, Rob, but I think we need to split up.”
“Bad idea.”
“Listen, Hayduke is my problem, not yours. I think it’s pretty obvious that the two of you don’t see eye to eye.”
“He’s crazy, Dad. I mean, yes, he’s suffered a lot, and has PTSD, but he’s also unbalanced in some other way. This whole Hayduke act is some kind of manic response to the commotion that’s raging in his head all the time. You can see it in his eyes. I think he’s genuinely nuts.”
“He’s a vet. He probably saw a lot while he was in Iraq.”
“Did he? Do you know for sure that he was overseas?”
“I take his word for it. And Taylor told me he was recently in a hospital recovering from some PTSD-related issues after the shooting on the Arizona Strip in the spring.”
“I’m going to check him out.”
“Good. Do it. And while you’re at it, I wonder if you can try to find out what the hell Katie was talking about with regards to Senator Smith.”
“If the FBI is conducting some other investigation, it’s not like it’s going to be on the internet.”
“No, but maybe you could look further into the relationship between Barry, Isaiah, Love, and Smith and see if there’s anything there.”
“Like campaign contributions?”
“Sure, start there. I wonder if there’s more to it than that. What else does the FBI investigate other than murder?”
“A lot. Terrorism, to start with.”
“They thought Penelope was a terrorist.”
“What? That’s ridiculous.”
“A domestic terrorist. They thought that she wanted to blow up Glen Canyon Dam.”
“Your Penelope? That wasn’t her style.”
“No, it wasn’t, but the FBI had a file on her. On Darcy McFarlan
d too. And on Hayduke.”
“Now him I could see. That’s what Hayduke wanted to do in The Monkey Wrench Gang, wasn’t it? Blow up the dam?”
“Yeah, but it never happened. They couldn’t even blow up a couple of bridges. None of that stopped the feds from snooping on Penelope. Smith doesn’t seem like the terrorist sort, unless you count his campaign to destroy Utah’s wilderness. If Penelope was here she’d tell you it constituted a kind of terrorism.”
“What about white-collar crime? You know, embezzlement?”
“Maybe …”
“You know what the top priority among criminal investigations is, according to the FBI website? Public corruption: dirty politicians on the take, defrauding the American people.”
“Can you find out?”
“I don’t know, Dad. You heard Katie. It’s a line she can’t cross.”
“I don’t think Katie can be any help. What about your reporter friend in Salt Lake? Maybe this is connected to Kresge’s death?”
“I can try. I can also see if there is a non-profit organization in Washington that investigates this sort of thing. I know there is in Canada, so there must be one in the States. Do you really think this will help find who killed Penelope?”
“I don’t know. I think this all relates back to Penelope blackmailing Smith. That’s how this started, or at least it seems like it. Maybe Smith killed Penelope to stop her from doing anything with the photos of him and Barry. And then, when he found out Kresge had copies too, he arranged for him to have an ‘accident.’ Just like I almost had an accident on Comb Ridge last year. You know, now that I think about it, I wonder if Smith was behind that too?”
“They arrested someone for that, Dad. I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“If Smith killed Penelope because she had these photos, who killed the others? If Penny was blackmailing Smith to get him to drop his proposed changes to the Colorado River Compact, wouldn’t he have had to kill everyone involved? Katie said Smith was already under surveillance when McFarland and Pearce died. Dingwall went missing about the same time as Pearce was killed.”
“Dingwall is the missing piece right now, isn’t he?” Silas asked. “Nobody knows where he is. Maybe he isn’t dead. Maybe he’s involved.”
“Dad, it stands to reason that Dingwall took the pictures of Smith and Barry. How could he be involved?”
“I don’t know. None of this makes any sense.”
“Let’s get some sleep. In the morning, I’ll dig into this. You can go and warn Hayduke that he’s the last man standing. We’ll meet back here at the end of the day and compare notes. Alright?”
Silas nodded. There was no way for him to know that they wouldn’t be meeting at the end of the day to compare anything, especially notes.
33
SILAS PLANNED TO SYSTEMATICALLY SEARCH each of the side roads that led off the Hole in the Rock Road until he found Hayduke’s Jeep. The Harris Wash road was rough, but beyond the Wash itself the road became even rougher. A sign at Harris Wash warned travelers from proceeding any farther without four-wheel drive. The brand-new Ford Explorer he had rented seemed capable, but when he reached a place where the trail descended precariously on an off-set angle, Silas stopped. If Hayduke was on the steep, sandy road toward the V where Harris Wash met the Escalante, he was on his own.
He decided to go back to the main road and drive to Egypt, another jumping-off point for hikes into the Escalante. Several times he bottomed the Explorer out, hearing the skid plate crack on high-center rocks or drag along a deep rut in the road. Silas winced and tried to remember if his insurance covered this sort of damage.
At Egypt trailhead, with the convoluted earth of the Escalante Basin before him, he looked among the dozen vehicles parked there for the gunmetal Jeep. It wasn’t there. There was a breeze blowing from the west, and Silas could see, for the third day in a row, thunderheads amassing on the horizon. The wind smelled faintly of rain.
He drove two more spur trails before searching the campground at Devil’s Garden. The place was empty but tire tracks in the sand and signs of a campfire suggested someone had been there the night before. Silas drove toward Dance Hall Rock.
It was late in the afternoon when he reached the dome of sandstone that jutted from the slickrock plateau. He stopped short of it and switched off the engine. The temperature had dropped quickly and the wind was blowing dust into his eyes. There was nobody around.
Silas took a few tentative steps forward. The wind pushed him back. In the late afternoon light the earth that surrounded Silas seemed drawn, the shadows long, the clefts in the stone filled with gloom. He managed another hundred yards and stopped in the lee of the monolithic stone.
“Hayduke?” he called. Something made him shout a second time, “Hayduke!”
There was no response. “Penelope?” he said, more softly, the word swallowed by the wind.
There was no answer. He stood, unable to approach the place where his wife had met her end. Unable to face the spot where someone had ordered, or forced, her down on her knees and shot her between the eyes. Someone had executed her for something she knew, had done, or might do in the future.
She was not there. And now, Silas knew, she was nowhere.
HE DROVE BACK through the darkness, the last light clinging to the Kaiparowits Plateau. He was about to pass the turn-off to Devil’s Garden without a second thought, but through the gargoyles of sandstone that haunted the place he saw the lick of a windblown fire in the campground. He jammed the wheel of the Explorer and took the road down into the draw.
A fire burned in a metal grill. The Jeep was parked nearby.
Silas pulled into a nearby campsite and shut the motor down on the Explorer. He couldn’t see Hayduke. He could smell rain in the air.
Silas walked to where the fire cracked and spit sparks into the opaque sky. There was a camp chair set up. A few empty cans of beer lay scattered on the ground, but there was no other sign of Hayduke. Silas went to check the Jeep. No Hayduke. Silas poked his head inside. Duffle bags, a rope, a rack of climbing gear, a backpack, half a dozen surplus ammo cans, and a flat of beer littered the back. A hunting rifle and a carbine were tucked among the luggage and gear.
Silas considered the collection of ammo cans. The green boxes were surplus from the Vietnam War; they had been used to store and transport belts of ammunition for large-caliber machine guns. The ammo cans had been manufactured in the millions, and after the war they had become a favorite accessory for river-runners: they could easily be secured to the frame of a raft and were virtually waterproof.
Silas looked in the front of the Jeep: more beer cans on the floor, a few topo maps, a Utah state road map, and a few books. Tucked between the front seats was the first edition copy of Desert Solitaire that he had given Hayduke the previous fall after the incident on Comb Ridge. He picked it up, flipped the book open, and reread the inscription. The young man obviously appreciated the gift. Silas was about to return it when he saw something that made his heart catch in his throat.
The spine of Penelope’s journal was protruding from next to the driver’s side seat, wedged between it and the hand brake. Silas reached for it and pulled it out. He felt perspiration trickling down his back and forming under his arms.
“Hey, what the fuck … ? Oh, shit, it’s you.”
Silas slipped the journal inside his coat and grabbed the Abbey book. He turned quickly to watch Hayduke holster his .357; his face broke into a wolfish grin. Silas turned with the book in his hand. “I see you still have this?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s pretty much the most important thing to me in the world. So, what are you doing out here, and why are you fucking with my shit?”
34
“YOU’RE IN TROUBLE, JOSH. I came to warn you. I’ve been driving all over the Hole in the Rock Road today looking for you.”
“I was up on the Straight Cliffs, looking around for places where my namesake and ol’ Seldom Seen might have hung out.
What kind of trouble am I in?”
“You want a beer?” Silas went to his SUV and grabbed a six-pack and the photo Robbie had printed off Tabby Dingwall’s blog. He handed Hayduke a beer and opened one for himself. He drank and then handed Hayduke the photo.
“Do you know Tabby Dingwall?”
Hayduke studied the photo. Through his beard Silas couldn’t tell if the young man was smiling. The light from the fire played with the deep shadows on his face. He held the photo and looked at it as he guided the beer can to his mouth. Silas thought the young man’s eyes looked red, though that too might have been from the firelight. “Do you know him, Hayduke?”
“Yeah, I know him. What kind of trouble am I in?”
“Tabby Dingwall is missing. He’s been missing for six months. Everybody in that photo is either dead or missing—”
“Or sitting right here with you.”
“Hayduke, you’re in danger. Whoever killed Penelope, whoever killed Kiel and Darcy and whoever, well, made this Tabby Dingwall guy disappear, will likely come for you next.”
Hayduke, unconcerned, took another long pull on the can of beer. He continued to study the photo. “This was a good trip,” he said. “This was a long time ago, man. Look at me! A clean-cut kid! I was just back from Iraq, what, maybe a year then? Just out of the service. I thought I’d do some wilderness stuff, like around here, climb some of the peaks, do a river trip or two. This was a great trip. I had met Pen and the others and they invited me along on this gig they had going. A private trip sort of thing. I mean, what a blast! Just the five of us on the river for three weeks. It was pretty awesome. I mean, the food was pretty basic because we didn’t have a cook, but the solitude! We saw a few other groups while we were on the river, but because we were a small outfit we could camp at some of the more secluded beaches. It was incredible.”
“So you knew all of them.”
“Of course,” Hayduke waved the picture around. He finished his beer and tossed the can into the pile next to him.
“Shit, man, we had big plans. We were going to change things around here. We were going to make a difference. Penelope had the plan, of course. She was the one who thought things through. She knew what we had to do to get it done; she knew how to do it. She was definitely in charge.”
The Same River Twice Page 13