by B. T. Lord
Cammie’s heart broke. “Here there be monsters,” she murmured.
His face beamed. “Did you like that? It wasn’t hard to sneak in there, you know. I occasionally sweep out the dining area, so I know where all the keys are. I needed the world to know what she was.”
Tears stung her eyes as she looked at him. He had no idea how apt his statement was. There were monsters. But they weren’t at the inn. They were right here.
“I can’t let you get away with this, you know,” she said through the tears.
“You must do what you must do.”
Cammie reached behind her and unhooked the handcuffs from her police belt. She took a step forward to place them on his wrists. In a swift movement that took her by surprise, he crashed his fist into her temple. She crumpled to the floor and lay still.
“And I must do what I must do,” he said before grabbing his coat and hurrying out the door.
A quarter of an hour later, Cammie slowly regained consciousness. She groaned aloud as pain exploded throughout her head. Struggling into a sitting position, she looked around, not sure where she was. She felt something cold against her fingers. Glancing down, she saw her handcuffs lying on the floor. And remembered the horrifying details - Poppie’s earring, Harry confessing to Poppie’s murder. She whipped out her radio and immediately called HQ.
“Put out an APB on Dancing Harry, aka Coach Adam McIntyre. He’s responsible for killing Poppie Beresford. Assemble the trackers, the dogs and all law enforcement personnel. Call Mark and tell him to take to the air. Harry was last seen in the vicinity of his house on Pickett Road. He is armed and dangerous.”
She put her head down and took deep breaths through her mouth as a surge of nausea threatened to overwhelm her. When she felt her stomach settle down, she tried to stand up, only to be met with another sharp pain in her head.
Reaching out with her hand, she used the writing desk to help hoist herself up to her feet. She took a few steps as the room spun around her. Gritting her teeth against the ache and nausea, she shook her head gently in an effort to clear it. It didn’t help much, but at least the room stopped whirling about her. She went into the bathroom where she saw a clothes hamper. Grabbing an armful of shirts, she slowly made her way to the front door. She hesitated before balling the clothing under her arm. With her right hand, she withdrew her weapon. She didn’t think Harry was lurking outside, but she needed to be sure.
After reconnoitering the area, she made it to the Explorer. She turned it on, then lowered her head for a moment as her vision began to blur again.
“Damn it, not now,” she snarled as she fought against both the nausea again and her whoozy vision. This time, ignoring the pain, she shook her head again. Then putting the vehicle in drive, she took off.
She had no choice but to drive slowly. By the time she arrived at HQ, she felt her left eye beginning to close. Pulling into the parking lot, she saw her deputies and a group of men and dogs waiting for her.
“Jesus, Cam. What happened to you?” Rick asked as he noticed the ugly bruising on the side of her face and around her swollen eye.
“He got the jump on me.”
“He must have hit you hard. You actually said Dancing Harry was Coach McIntyre.”
She met his eye. “He is.”
Rick’s jaw dropped as she went up to the group. There were five trackers assembled – the best in Clarke County. One in particular, Dave Turner was the best among the best. He was famous throughout the Northeast for his uncanny tracking abilities. He had salt and pepper hair, an engaging, easy going personality and a round, kind face. Behind the kindness, however, lay the mind of a ruthless, professional hunter. He and his purebred bloodhound Blue had yet to fail in finding their quarry, whether it was a lost hiker, a predator or an injured hunter. He was known never to give up. With those two on her team, Harry didn’t stand a chance.
“Harry knows these woods like the back of his hand. He’s going to be difficult to find, but I know he can’t outwit you guys,” she said as she once again fought the urge to throw up.
“Is it true he killed that woman?” Dave asked.
“Yes. Is there anyone here who doesn’t know Harry?” They all shook their heads.
“Are you sure he’s Coach McIntyre?” Russell questioned. “I thought Coach died years ago.”
“It’s a long story, but Dancing Harry is Coach McIntyre.” She handed out a shirt to each of the trackers. “I got these out of his hamper. This should help the dogs.” She stood a step back. “He’s armed and dangerous. We cannot underestimate him.” Taking a map of the county from Rick, she spread it out over the hood of the Explorer. She quickly assigned areas to each group. By the time she was done, her left eye had closed completely and the pain was throbbing. Once again she felt the nausea bubbling up. It was through sheer force of will that she tamped it down.
“Cam, you need to sit down. You look as though you’re ready to faint. I’ve got this,” Rick said.
“No,” she answered sharply.
“At least get Doc to take a look at your eye.”
“Later.” She assigned her deputies to the various groups, choosing to go with Dave and Blue.
As everyone got into their vehicles and took off, Rick took the opportunity to call both Doc and Jace and let them know what was going on.
The teams spent the rest of the day searching the woods, but they came up with nothing. As night fell and temperatures dropped, they had no choice but to call off the search until the next day at sunrise.
Doc and Jace were waiting for her when she got back to HQ. Jace winced when he saw her face. Her eye resembled a purple colored golf ball. Doc gave her some painkillers, insisting she take them once she arrived home.
“Is it true what I’m hearing? Dancing Harry is actually Coach McIntyre?” Jace asked as he drove them home. She nodded and told him the story of how she’d come to know his true identity. When she was done, she lay her head against the headrest and closed her eyes.
“I still can’t believe he’s a murderer,” she said quietly. “I never saw that coming.”
“How could you?” Jace answered. “This wasn’t premeditated. It was the action of a man who hasn’t mentally been all there for a long time.”
“Still, I should have seen it.”
“Stop it, Cammie,” he reprimanded her in such a stern voice that it took her by surprise. “You’re not perfect. No one is perfect. You’ve got to stop putting so much pressure on yourself. You’re doing the best you can which is pretty damned good. All the evidence pointed to Aubrey. Then the DNA pointed to Baker. Who the hell could have known that the killer was actually a non-descript, harmless looking, poem quoting hobo who’s been mentally damaged for years?”
Cammie heaved a heavy sigh. “I hope to God we find him.”
“We will. There is no way Dave Turner is going to let Harry ruin his stellar record.”
He reached over and took her hand. She turned and looked out the window, afraid that when they did find him, he would no longer be alive. She knew Harry well enough to know how much he loved tramping through the woods. Roaming free was as essential to his wellbeing as breathing. The thought of spending the rest of his days either in prison or in an asylum could send him over the edge, which was never far away to begin with. She closed her good eye and tried to ignore the bad feeling sitting in the pit of her stomach.
Cammie was out the door just as the sun was peeking over the horizon. This time Jace insisted on going with her. They drove out to Berk’s Bluff, where she and Jace were met by Dave and a group of volunteers who had heard about the search for Harry and were offering their assistance. They were each armed with a rifle, a look of determination on their faces. Surprised to see the tracker without his dog, she asked, “Where’s Blue? Is he okay?”
“Harry’s been this way,” Dave responded. “He scattered pepper spray on his trail that threw Blue off. He’ll be fine, but he’s not eager to encounter any more pepper. But you’ve
got me.” He smiled. “I eat cayenne pepper for breakfast.” The group laughed. “I looked around before you arrived. There are signs that he’s up there.”
“Remember, everybody. He’s armed and dangerous,” Cammie warned. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
“Don’t worry, Sheriff,” one of the volunteers called out. “We can take care of ourselves.”
The group fanned out and began to walk up the path that led to the top of Berk’s Bluff. Dave showed her newly broken branches and twigs that proved something or someone had recently passed that way. “We’re not that far behind,” the tracker remarked as he continued leading the way. Halfway up the bluff, he stopped. “It looks like he left the path and veered to the right.”
Cammie frowned. “There’s nothing there except the lookout over the Moose River.”
“That’s right,” Dave concurred. “It’s a steep drop down to the river, but if he’s careful, he can make it to the water. That doesn’t mean we won’t catch him, but it will definitely slow us down.”
At that time of the year, the river wasn’t roaring with the winter melt. There was a current and the water was cold, but it wasn’t impassible.
Trying to figure out what Harry was up to, she walked a few steps behind Dave, keeping her good eye trained on both him and the volunteers. With each step, she prayed Harry wouldn’t react like a cornered animal and try to shoot his way out. She couldn’t bear it if any of these men were shot. She couldn’t even wrap her mind around the possibility of Jace getting hurt. Or worse.
Just as they were nearing the crest of the bluff, Dave held his hand up, causing everyone to stop. “I suggest you send your best shooters to cover both sides of the lookout. If he’s up there, that’s the way he’s going to use to get down. The rest of us will quietly make our way up the main trail.”
Cammie eyed him steadily. “I don’t want him shot.”
“I understand that. It’s more a tactic to show him he has no choice but to give himself up.”
The orders were issued, with the strict caveat they were not to shoot unless Harry fired first. They waited until the shooters were in place before they proceeded up the path. Cammie had come up beside Dave as they reached the crest. To her shock, the man they were hunting was right in front of them.
Harry had climbed onto the metal railing that served as the lookout. Below him lay a spectacular view of the valley and the Moose River cutting through the meadows.
“I’m not going to let you arrest me,” he shouted to Cammie.
“Coach, don’t do this,” she said, deliberately using the name that had once belonged to him.
“Please don’t call me that,” he answered. “Coach died a long time ago.”
“Harry, climb off the lookout and walk towards us. We can talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. If I do as you ask, I lose control over my life. It may not be much of a life, but it’s mine. I can’t allow that life to rot away behind bars.”
“Harry, please. You don’t need to do this,” she pleaded with him, the tears streaming down her face as she realized the futility of the situation. Terrified of his unpredictability, she slowly walked towards him. With any luck, she could reach him and gently pull him off the lookout. “Harry, I never told you this, but you were the closest thing I had to a father during those years I played on the Night Hawks. You were there for me.”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t there for you when it really counted.”
“Only because of what Eli did to you. I never held that against you.” She drew closer. “Please Harry, step off the lookout. We can figure something out.”
“You took an oath to uphold the law. I’m a murderer. You have no choice, Camilla, and I won’t let you ruin your career because of me.”
Later she would realize he’d called her by her full name. He was the only one who ever had.
He looked at her with a wistful look on his face. As she continued inching towards him, he suddenly lifted his arms into the air and intoned
“In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed—
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.”
When he was done, he lowered his arms and looked at her again. His mouth curved into a sad smile.
“Don’t forget me,” he called out to her. He then turned and leapt off the lookout.
“NO!” Cammie screamed as she jumped forward towards him. From behind her, she felt strong arms grab her waist and pull her back from the edge.
“Cammie, don’t!” Jace yelled as she struggled against him.
“Let me go! I have to help him!” she cried out as she fought against his grasp. “Goddamn it! He needs my help!”
Dave hurried to the edge and looked over. The look on his face as he turned back to her said it all. “He’s gone, Sheriff. He’s dead.”
Cammie’s world caved in on her. “No, no, no,” she whimpered as she collapsed against Jace. He took her in his arms and held her against his chest. “No…”
It had been a somber twenty-four hours. The five trackers recovered Harry’s broken body. It was now lying in the Crypt. Doc had followed Jace and Cammie back to their cabin where he’d administered a sedative to the shell-shocked woman. Jace sat up all night at her bedside, holding her hand, praying she would recover from it all. He knew Harry was the closest thing to a father Cammie had after her own father retreated to his cabin. The scars of realizing the man she’d once revered was a murderer, and to witness how he chose to die, were wounds Jace knew she would carry the rest of her life. He prayed they’d come far enough in their relationship that she’d allow him to help her through it. He couldn’t bear the alternative. When he finally drifted off to sleep just before dawn, his words of supplication were still on his lips.
The sun shone bright the next morning, mocking the sadness in everyone’s heart. Unable to sleep, Rick arrived at the office first. After turning on the lights and getting the coffee machine started, he sat at his desk, ruminating about the day before. He still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the truth regarding Harry. Or was it Coach? It really didn’t matter anymore, did it? The dead man’s secret was out. The whole county was talking about the shock of discovering that Dancing Harry was actually Coach Adam McIntyre. Worse, that their beloved Coach was a killer.
It was heart wrenching. Especially when he saw how his death, and the revelation of what he’d done to Poppie affected Cammie. He’d arrived just as Jace was helping her down from Berk’s Bluff. He’d never seen her like that before. She was like one of the living dead, her face expressionless, her eyes devoid of emotion. She hadn’t even acknowledged him when he came up to her. As if she didn’t know who he was. It had frightened him deeply.
“Good morning.”
He turned and saw Emmy coming in. She’d been cold to him since the incident with Jeff, but in light of what had happened, the coldness was gone.
“Have you talked to the sheriff?” she asked.
He shook his head. “She’s not talking to anyone.”
“She’s been through so much,” the young woman commiserated.
“She’s in shock, Em. First she thinks she screwed up over Aubrey not being the murderer. Then she finds out Kevin’s the murderer, only it turns out he isn’t the murderer. To top it all off, she finally discovers the man who was like a second dad to her is a cold-blooded killer who she has to watch do a swan dive to his death. If it was me, I wouldn’t come out from under the covers for weeks.”
She took off her coat and started towards the coffee machine.
“Emmy…” he began.
She put her hand up. “Let’s not talk about it now. We’ve all been through a lot lately.”
He stood up and approached her. “I know. But I need to tell you how sorry I am. I’ve been a complete jerk.”
She glanced at him. “Yes, you have been. But we can discuss it later. Let’s just concentrate on
keeping everything going until the sheriff comes back.”
He reluctantly nodded. She poured herself a mug of coffee before returning to her desk where she gathered together a handful of phone messages for Cammie. She didn’t know when or what day the sheriff would come in, but she wanted to make sure everything was ready for her.
Rick sat at his desk, proud of himself for asking Emmy to forgive him. Along with thoughts of the investigation and concern for Cammie that kept him up most of the night, he also realized he didn’t want to lose Emmy. Although terrified over committing to her, he was still willing to try. He only hoped he hadn’t caused irreparable harm between them by his caveman behavior. Somehow he’d make it up to her. As he mentally jotted down ideas on just how to do this, the quiet of the office was suddenly shattered by the sound of a piercing scream.