by K. J. Dahlen
Sam shoved the gun into the waistband of his pants and reached down and grabbed the unconscious man. Shaking him awake, he began asking questions.
Jasper groaned and opened one eye. He found Sam scowling at him. "Who are you, and where is the owner of this boat?" Sam shook him again. "Where is Tucker Briggs?"
"Who?" Jasper asked, still not thinking straight. He swallowed hard.
Sam leaned closer to the man. "I asked you who you are and where Tucker Briggs is, and you'd better tell me right now. Where is he?"
Jasper swallowed hard again. "My name is Jasper Wiley and I don't know where Tucker is. He left last night."
Cole asked, "How do you know Tucker?"
Jasper didn't take his eyes off Sam. "I've known Tucker for about ten years," Jasper said. "We go fishing together when he's in the area"
"How did he leave?" Sam asked.
"He borrowed my boat" Jasper wasn't going to tell him anything, but one look at Sam's face made him change his mind. Jasper wasn't sure what Tucker had done to Sam, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Jasper had to wonder just what he'd gotten himself into.
"What kind of boat did he borrow?" Sam demanded.
Three hours later they were almost to the Missouri border. Cole was scanning the river with the binoculars while Sam steered. They knew now they were looking for a black houseboat called Jasper's Folly, and they weren't wasting any time getting to their destination. It would be sometime tomorrow before they would reach Hannibal, but Sam was determined to get as far as he could today.
As they passed another river island, Sam had a terrible thought. Would Tucker Briggs be crazy enough to leave a six-year-old boy out alone on one of the islands between here and Hannibal? Sam killed the boat's engine. Cole turned around and looked at him.
"You don't think your cousin would leave Wyatt on one of these islands, do you?" he asked Cole. "As sort of a bargaining chip, I mean? In case we run into him again, that is."
Cole frowned and hesitated. He looked at the island they had just passed and then he looked north at another. The thought alone was horrendous, but was Tucker willing to go that far? Hell, Cole thought, he's done worse. "I don't know. I simply don't know if he would do that or not. I would hope not, but he's done worse things, I guess"
"That's why I asked," Sam said.
"If we take the time to check, he'll probably beat us to Hannibal. He's got a lead on us now. It won't slow us up too much to just have a quick look. At least then we would know for sure," Cole told Sam.
Sam steered the boat closer to the next island they came to. Both he and Cole looked over the island as well as they could without docking the boat. There didn't seem to be anyone on the island. They moved upriver and stopped at the next island. Traveling this way was a lot slower, but at least they knew that Wyatt wasn't on any of them.
By mid-afternoon Sam and Cole were exhausted, sunburned, and starving. Sam called it a day. He wanted to push on, but his body was near collapse.
Sam stopped the boat's engine, and without a word to Cole, he disappeared belowdecks. Cole picked up Sam's cell phone and placed a call. A few minutes later he started the engine, and slowly took the boat north.
Hours later, the sun was down and the heat of the day was cooling from the river. It was a clear night, and the full moon lending its brilliance to the night sky was reflected in the calm river. Sam rejoined Cole on deck.
"Where are we?" Sam asked finally, not recognizing anything around them.
"We're just south of a little town in Tennessee called Golddust," Cole told him as he sat on a deck chair sipping a beer. The empty plate beside him told Sam that Cole had at least eaten something.
He disappeared belowdecks and reappeared with a sandwich and a beer. He sat next to Cole and began to eat. "So, how far did we come today?" he asked Cole between bites.
Cole looked out onto the river. "Not as far as I would have liked. I've been checking each island as we passed it, but I haven't seen anything."
Sam nodded. "It's possible that we've been wasting our time, but you have to understand, I had to be sure"
Cole nodded. "I understand completely. If Wyatt was my son, I would have expected no less from you. I can't fault you for being a good parent" He took another sip of his beer, and then told Sam, "I called my uncle this afternoon."
Sam was bringing the bottle up to his mouth for a drink and hesitated. Then he put the bottle to his lips and took a swallow. He set it back on the table and grabbed his sandwich. "And what did your uncle have to say?"
"They haven't seen or heard from Tucker in ten years. They had no idea what he's been doing either. Ethan couldn't believe what I had to say," Cole told him.
"Did you tell them what Tucker has been up to?" Sam asked.
Cole shook his head. "I couldn't. Ethan and Joyce wouldn't understand. Hell, there are times when I think all this is nothing more than a nightmare myself."
"I would still like to know why he picked my family to destroy," Sam said.
"I guess we'll just have to wait and ask him when we catch up to him," Cole replied.
"Do you still think he's going to Hannibal?" Sam had to ask.
Cole nodded. There was something else he had to tell Sam. "Ethan told me something I didn't know before today. He told me that Tucker has made several trips up to Hannibal in the last few years. He and my dad never know when he's coming, but they always know when he's been there"
"How do they know that?"
Cole shrugged. "He said it was a lot of little things. Tucker never leaves a note or anything, but he said some of the furniture gets moved around sometimes, or they've noticed pictures are missing and later returned. He said one time Tucker's mom put out a quilt on his bed that she had made for him, and the next time they checked the house, the quilt was gone"
"Why does he go there?" Sam asked.
"I've been thinking about all the people that claim to know me as Tucker, and all the different names he's gone by. Paul Moran and Nick Granger are only the ones we know about. When we were teenagers, just before Tucker left, something happened. At the time I thought he was just playing some sort of game. He had me go with him to another city, where he changed his clothes and literally became another person. We were fifteen years old at the time, and he walked into a place of business and began pitching an idea to the manager. The manager called him Tom Reed. As Tom Reed, he made more money in one afternoon than I do in a year's time. His performance was outstanding, and I remember being in awe of him. What if that's what he was doing when you caught him on film? I mean, if you photographed him while he was pretending to be someone else, that might put a serious dent in his bank account. I think we have to dig a little deeper into your theory and find out exactly what he was doing in the park that day. You think he was taking his next victim, but what if it was something else?" Cole suggested.
"Like what?" Sam asked. He frowned. Cole wasn't making any sense.
Cole shrugged. "If he was scamming someone using a false name, he wouldn't want that known. His cover has never been blown before, and he takes great pride in that. But if the wrong person started asking questions, his whole scheme could fall apart"
"Are you suggesting that you think he goes back to Hannibal for money?" Sam asked.
Cole nodded. "I think he would have to find a place that only he knows about, somewhere he figures is safe. He knows that very few people go to the farm anymore. He could find a place that he knows won't be discovered and leave things there-not just money but anything he uses from time to time, like maybe all the aliases he uses, for instance. I mean, he can't exactly put his money in a bank. He wouldn't want to leave a paper trail. Something like that could be discovered by anybody. He's got to have someplace to hide all that stuff. It's not like he can leave it out in the open, and he wouldn't leave it on his boat"
"Is this something you know for a fact, or is it just speculation?" Sam asked.
Cole shrugged. "When I first discovered the killer might
be Tucker, I dug into his background but nothing came up. I couldn't find anything from the time he was fifteen and left home. He has no bank account or credit card under his own name anywhere."
Sam thought for a moment. "I think we need to find out more about his trips to Hannibal. Did your uncle say how often he's been there?"
Cole shook his head. "He didn't say."
"How do they know he's been there?" Sam repeated his earlier question.
Cole looked out at the river for a moment and then back at Sam. "You have to understand something. They have no clue what Tucker has been doing all these years. All they know is that he is their son, and good or bad, he is their flesh and blood. It's going to be hard for them to understand what's happened to him."
"That doesn't answer my question." Sam paused and then said, "I think we need to talk to your uncle again and find out for ourselves." Sam's thoughts turned to his young son. He didn't know if he would understand it either, if something like this had happened to him. He wished he could hear his voice again.
As if on cue, his phone rang. Sam looked at Cole and then down at his phone. He quickly grabbed it and said, "Hello."
"I have to say that I'm disappointed in how little distance you covered today. How do you expect to catch me if you can't keep up with me?" Tucker asked.
"Where are you, you creep?" Sam made a low sound in his throat.
"That would be telling, wouldn't it? I hope you don't expect me to do your job for you too?" Tucker taunted Sam. Sam was rattled, but he knew that Tucker was using his feelings to control him.
Sam took a deep breath and got his emotions under control. "Did you call just to chat, or was there something you wanted to tell us?"
"I got bored waiting for you guys to catch up, so I thought I would call and complain," Tucker told him.
"If you're that bored, come on over. I can guarantee that you won't be anymore," Sam promised, and then hesitated. "Let me ask you something."
It was Tucker's turn to pause. "Okay, go ahead and ask. Of course, you may not like the answer, but you can always ask"
"Why me and my family?"
"Ahh, that's the question that has plagued man for centuries. Why me?" Tucker paused. "I would have to say it's because I admire your technique."
"What? What are you talking about?" Sam asked, confused.
"The first time I saw you, I was impressed by the way you handled a tough situation. You had compassion for the little guy, yet you slapped down the big bad wolf at the same time. You were awesome"
"What are you talking about?"
"I doubt you would remember this, but we met once, a long time ago," Tucker told him.
"I don't think I would have forgotten that," Sam said.
"Oh, but we did. You were investigating a murder case. Robert Cale was murdered by his wife Rebecca. Do you remember the case?"
Sam thought back. He remembered the Cale case, but he didn't remember ever meeting Tucker Briggs. "I remember the case"
"That was the case that brought you into my world. I followed that case in the papers for weeks. You were the only cop who gave a damn, and you didn't quit until the case was solved and the guilty people were in jail."
"What does any of that have to do with why you chose me to play your little game?" Sam asked again. "I still don't remember meeting you."
"We ran into each other one day when you were coming out of the station house" Tucker chuckled. "That was the day your wallet went missing, in fact"
Sam thought for a moment. He did remember misplacing his wallet, but he had found it later, on the floor of his car. He'd thought he'd dropped it there. "How did you know I lost my wallet?"
Sam heard Tucker laugh. "Because you didn't lose it-I swiped it," Tucker boasted.
"Why did you do that?" Sam asked.
"I wanted to know everything I could about you- your family, your interests, your hangouts," Tucker told him.
"Why?" Sam repeated, trying to remember what had been in his wallet.
"I have been looking for just the right person for a long time now, and I chose you," Tucker said simply.
"The right person for what?" Sam asked.
"All my life, there's been a part of me that doesn't fit anywhere. My family didn't see it, my friends didn't see it, and for a long time even I didn't see it. Then one day that part of me came out, and I realized that the something I was always searching for was death itself. The remorse I was supposed to feel when someone close to me died wasn't there. Instead, a sense of total freedom filled my soul. I began experimenting, and I have to be honest with you. The rush I got when I killed something or someone was incredible. The power I felt was amazing. I can't even describe it." Tucker paused for a moment. "I can't seem to stop. I've tried to, but I can't.
"The police haven't been able to stop me either. Not even my cousin Cole has been able to catch me. I chose you because I think you might be the only person who could ever come close to stopping me"
"The items in my wallet told you that?" Sam inquired. "You could have just dropped me a line and asked me to catch you. With your history, I would have tried to find you."
Tucker laughed. "I have everything to lose if you catch me. Let's just say I wanted to even the playing field. I wanted-no, that isn't quite right-I needed you to have a personal motive to stay and play the game with me."
"So you killed my wife and kidnapped my son just to make me come after you?" Sam hissed. He was close to losing control again, and he had a feeling that Tucker knew it.
"Doesn't the hatred in your soul keep you coming after me? Doesn't your rage give you the energy to want to find me?"
Sam didn't say anything. Everything Tucker had just said was true. The rage he felt for the man responsible for Chloe's death was keeping him going-that and the fact that this evil man had his son.
So if I catch you, are you going to come peacefully, or is that a dumb question?" Sam asked.
"I haven't made up my mind yet. We'll have to wait and see if and when that time comes," Tucker told him. "But you have to catch me first, and you aren't even close to doing that, so I guess I won't have to worry for a while."
When Sam didn't respond, Tucker sprinkled a little salt in the wound. "You know, Sam, you have an amazing family. Your wife-now, what was her name?-oh yes, Chloe. Well, let me tell you something-she was a hot little number. If she was my wife, I would have been home every night with bells on."
"Shut up, you little worm," Sam growled at him. "You aren't fit to speak her name."
"Now, is that any way for a father to speak? What if Wyatt had been listening? Oh yeah, I forgot-Wyatt is with me" He laughed, and the sound grated on Sam's nerves.
Sam slammed his phone down on the table. He vowed then and there before this was over he was going to kill that man, with his bare hands if necessary. One way or another, Tucker Briggs was going to die.
Cole knew enough not to ask any questions or offer any comments. He recognized the rage in Sam's eyes and knew that his cousin had put it there. He got up and started the boat. Traveling by moonlight was dangerous, but he had to do something.
They made slow progress through the night. They wasted little time in Golddust, stopping only for gas.
They must have had a guardian angel watching over them that night, because they made good progress and didn't run into anything. At dawn's first light, they were almost to St. Louis.
"So, how far are we from Hannibal?" Sam finally asked.
Cole shrugged. "We have around a hundred and seventy miles or so to go yet."
Sam nodded and fell silent. Finally, he asked Cole, "Is there a reason your cousin has a death wish?"
Cole looked shocked. "What?" He hadn't thought of that possibility.
"I've been thinking about our conversation last night. He told me that he's been looking for just the right person for his little game for a long time now, and I was wondering if there was a reason why."
Cole shook his head. "If there is, then my family
and I don't know about it."
Sam nodded. "I was just wondering. He's done enough to warrant a spot on death row, but I won't help him end his life in a police-assisted suicide."
Cole didn't say anything.
Tucker was playing a dangerous game with the wrong person. Sam had made his position very clear. Tucker wouldn't escape justice. When this was all over, he'd either be in jail or dead.
It was late afternoon before they got to Hannibal. They were able to bypass St. Louis, and now as evening approached they neared the dock by Cole's grandfather's farm. They hadn't heard or seen anything of Tucker, and they were a little worried that he'd been there and left already.
Cole pulled the boat into a little cove not too far from the dock, yet where it could remain hidden from sight. As they backtracked to the farm, Sam hid in the tall grass and looked over the river entrance.
Cole waited for him on the path to the barn. When Sam joined him a few minutes later, Cole asked, "Any sign of the boat?"
Sam shook his head. "No, and that worries me. He seemed in an all-fired hurry last night. I can't imagine he would waste a whole day."
Cole looked up toward the barn. "Maybe we should check the barn. If he's been here and gone, there should be some sign in the barn."
Sam nodded, and silently they made their way to the barn. He readied his gun as Cole pulled open the door. The heavy screech of the old iron hinges echoed in the quietness of the farm. Sam cringed and frowned at Cole.
Cole just shrugged.
The barn was dark inside and smelled of moldy hay and dust. Nobody, except for mice, rats, and the occasional possum, had been inside for years. Cole had previously warned Sam that the utilities had been shut off since his grandfather died, so Sam was prepared when Cole grabbed the flashlight he'd brought from the boat and turned it on. The light barely pierced the darkness, and the fading sunlight would be gone soon.
Sam looked around as much as he could and was satisfied that there was no one in the barn. They couldn't do much in the dark, and he knew that if Tucker was coming it would be in the daylight hours.