by Mark Young
What a waste.
Heard and Travis always seemed to be butting heads. The Scarsbourgh woman became their final blow-up. Travis railed about the dangers of sending her back in. But Heard knew there was no other choice. Without her help, they’d never get the paper for wiretaps and the evidence they needed to put the target away. Unfortunately, Travis allowed himself to get close to the witness. He lost all objectivity. Totally unprofessional. Those were the words he used to make Travis back off. Faced with charges of insubordination and failure to obey a direct order, Travis finally relented and stood mute while Heard talked the witness into going back inside the criminal organization one more time. They knew Travis’ silence made the woman think everything was all right.
They found her body two days later. And Travis became history.
Heard began pushing himself, as if the pace he set would purge this memory. It never did. The sight of that woman’s body still haunted him, never able to shake it no matter how hard he struggled.
Ahead, the path forked. He kept to the left, knowing that it would take him straight up toward Lake Isanjo, a small body of water nestled in the foothills. He pounded away, feeling sweat dripping through his T-shirt and down his back. His breathing became labored as he churned up the path, leaping over several granite boulders and a dry creek bed that had been carved into a small ravine by winter rains.
He finally reached the last stretch of road and spied the lake ahead. He began to slow down as he crossed a small earth dam.
No one in sight. Like having an entire park for your own personal enjoyment. Heard saw a fresh set of tracks on the ground, hoof prints of several horses. He reached a rocky straightaway and began pushing himself once more, long strides and high altitude forcing air out of his lungs. He felt exhilaration as endorphins kicked in.
It was the last thing he felt.
Creasy lowered the rifle after just one shot. He hit Heard straight on, once in the head. It flipped the man back and to the right, the body cart wheeling down the slope, splashing into brackish water. The cop’s head and upper torso lay submerged.
The crack of the rifle shot startled a duck nestled in nearby tulles. The bird quacked and furiously beat its wings as it rose into the air. He watched the bird circle the lake and finally settle on the far side. He glanced around the park. No witnesses in sight.
Good.
He slipped out of the sling and carefully placed the rifle in a cloth bag. He’d be gone in just a few minutes, but he wanted to enjoy this moment. Feast his eyes on one more kill. One more act of justice. He watched the dead man’s body gently sway as waves lapped against it.
His business in Santa Rosa completed with this single rifle shot. Now, back to Idaho where he’d bring everything to an end.
Chapter 34
Kooskia, Idaho
Frank White Eagle’s cell phone rang as they left Dizzy on the Lochsa River and climbed into the unmarked. He answered the phone, then covered the mouth piece and mouthed “Francis” at Travis in the passenger’s seat. Frank laid the phone down and began searching for something in the car.
Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, Frank brought the phone back to his ear. “Okay, I got something to write on. Give it to me.” He jotted the information down and hung up.
“Asked Francis to find Pamela Redfeather’s current address. She found an address in Kooskia. It’s on the way back to my office.”
“Axtell’s girlfriend?”
“Yeah. She lives in a duplex. Let’s swing by and see if we can catch her at home.”
Frank followed Highway 12 until they approached the first bridge into Kooskia. The small hamlet nestled in the crook of the fork where Clearwater’s South Fork and Middle Fork merged. From Highway 12, motorists might never see the town if they blinked while passing. A two-lane bridge gave access to the town from the east, and another bridge on the west side of town brought traffic back onto Highway 12.
Frank took the eastern bridge over the middle fork river and continued into town, parking near a squatty duplex. The structure had a flat, sloping roof, with cedar-shingled sides that had long ago turned a weather-beaten gray. An old GMC pickup straddled a common driveway. According to the numbers, Axtell’s girlfriend lived on the right.
Travis stood near the car while Frank knocked on the door. The neighborhood seemed quiet for midday. He saw children down the street playing in someone’s yard. There were no fences around the dwelling. Vehicular traffic seemed minimal, typical small town protected from the stress of urban struggle while struggling with its own kind of economic survival.
He heard the doorknob rattle and turned to see a woman appear behind a screen as she opened the door. The woman — hair dyed a platinum blond with dark roots showing — wore a tight-fitting sweater with bare shoulders exposed and denim jeans that must have been a struggle to squeeze into.
“Pamela Redfeather?” Frank pulled out his identification and badge. “Frank White Eagle. I believed we met awhile back.” He glanced toward Travis. “My partner.”
She only focused on Frank. “What can I do for you, Chief.” Her nasally voice sounded wary.
“I wanted to ask you about Pete Axtell. Can we come in for a minute?”
“The place is a mess. Can we just talk here?” She glanced over her bare shoulder at something.
“I’d rather talk in private.”
Pamela shrugged, opening the screen door a crack. Frank opened it further. Travis followed them inside. She was right about the mess, he thought, looking at clothes strewn over the furniture like a strong wind just swept through the place.
“Sit anywhere,” she said, choosing a spot on a sagging sofa. “You wanna talk about Pete? Did he show up?”
Frank pushed aside a rumpled blouse and sat down. Travis decided to stand.
“No. Not yet. We thought maybe you could tell us where he might be.”
“Why me? I barely knew the guy.”
“We were told you and Pete were … dating.” Frank removed a notebook from his pocket and clicked a pen to begin writing.
“Who told you that?”
“Somebody at the casino. Aren’t you?”
“Well, we went out a couple times. You know, for laughs.” She pulled out a cigarette and lit up.
Travis felt something brush against his leg. He glanced down and saw a cat rubbing against him, its tail curled. He wanted to give the cat a swift boot, but thought Pamela might object. He let the cat continue to rub.
“When is the last time you saw or heard from him?”
She took another puff, thinking. “It’s been awhile. A couple weeks, maybe.”
“You know why he took off?”
Pamela took another, longer drag. The smoke slowly curled from her nose and mouth. “He just called me one night and said he needed to leave for awhile. He’d call me when he could.”
“Did he say why he was leaving?”
She shook her head. “Nothing specific. Said there’d been a little trouble at the casino and he had to take off until things cleared up. It sounded like he messed up.”
“Messed up?”
“You know, got the wrong people mad at him.”
“Like who?”
She grimaced. “How would I know? It wasn’t like we’re married or anything.”
“Any idea how he messed up?”
“I told you, I barely knew him. He didn’t give me details.” She gave Frank a look as if daring him to challenge her statement.
Travis shifted his feet. “Did anyone else contact you about Pete?”
Frank shot him a frown. Travis ignored the look, watching Pamela’s face closely. She studied him for the first time as if deciding whether he might be worthy of an answer. “His boss called. Wanted to know where Pete might be.”
“His boss? Mr. Robinette?”
“I don’t know the guy’s name. He just said Pete worked for him at the casino. Said Peter never showed up for work. They were worried about him.”
“Tho
se were his exact words—‘they were worried about him?’”
His questions seemed to anger Pamela. She puffed several deep drags and pushed the smoke out into the room. It bellowed around her head and floated toward Frank. “That’s what I said.”
Travis pressed on. “Did anyone else come by here asking about him?” Her eyes flashed. At least that was the look he first thought she gave him. It took a second for it to register.
He was staring into the eyes of fear.
Pamela lowered her eyes. “No. No one came by here. Now, that’s all I know. I’ve got to leave soon. Do you mind?” She gestured toward the door.
Frank slowly stood and gave her a business card. “Thanks for your time, Pamela. If you think of anything else, please give me a call.”
She took the card without looking at it. “I don’t have anything more to tell you.”
Frank followed Travis to the door. “Thank you for talking to us anyway. We’ll see ourselves out.”
Frank turned over the engine as Travis crawled into the passenger side. Once buckled, Frank turned to Travis. “That girl seem a little nervous?”
Travis glanced back at the house. “She’s scared, Frank. I don’t think she’ll ever tell us who came looking.”
“She did say Pete’s boss called. I’m assuming that’d be Robinette. So, whatever happened to Axtell, Robinette may not know.”
Travis turned the steering wheel. “Or he called up and feigned ignorance to push suspicion away from him.”
Frank leaned back. “So what kind of game is Robinette playing? He sure didn’t want us to go rifling through Axtell’s desk. And yet, he calls the girlfriend trying to find out where Axtell’s hiding.”
“Maybe the truth lies somewhere in between,” Travis said.
Chapter 35
Pullman, Washington
A three-hour drive from his cabin gave Travis time to think. He dropped Sam and his belongings at the rented house in Palouse, then drove another twenty minutes back to Washington State University.
Sam wanted to tag along, but McPeters lurked the corridors during the week. This meant Travis could only sneak the dog onto campus on weekends when everyone else was off enjoying life.
Monday morning.
He had exactly one hour before meeting John Ares, the guy from the security firm WSU hired. He fired up his computer — grown dusty during his absence — and Googled the man’s name and his company, Puget Sound Executive Protection based in Seattle.
Hits on the company seemed to verify its legitimacy. He located the company’s website, and found links to an array of news articles attesting to the efficiency of the company with Ares listed as CEO and chairman of the board. The company appeared to cater to the elite of the industry, dot.com companies, high-profile manufacturers, and those in the entertainment industry. Publication dates for these articles began several years ago.
One thing surprised him. This young company seemed to attract a high volume of business in a short time frame. Success must sell itself, he thought, exiting the company website. He saw sixty-four e-mail messages waiting his attention. He clicked off the program and watched the monitor darken.
He might get to those later.
Emerging from his office, Travis saw McPeters with another man further down the hallway. McPeters motioned him to join them. “This is John Ares, Travis. The gentleman I told you about.” His cordial tone made Travis cautious. “John, this is Professor Mays.”
The man was not a pencil-pushing desk jockey. Ares thrust out a hand in greeting, his grip surprisingly strong. Lean and muscular, the security consultant’s engaging smile did not conceal the fact he was studying Travis closely. “Glad to finally meet you, professor. Heard good things about you.”
Travis glanced at McPeters, surprised, before turning his attention back to Ares. “Call me Travis. And don’t believe everything you hear. Particularly from him,” he said, thrusting a chin at his boss.
Ares chuckled. “Never believe anything in my business without checking it out first. Only a fool believes things at face value,” he said, glancing at McPeters. “Thanks for hooking us up, Kent. See you at the meeting.”
McPeters shot a worried look at Travis. “Uh, right, John. See you at the meeting.”
Ares waited until McPeters walked away. “That man gives me the creeps.” He turned and grinned. “Know what I mean?”
Travis thought it safer to keep his thoughts to himself.
Gesturing toward the exit, Ares said, “How about we walk and talk. The meeting’s in a conference room across campus. Like to get some fresh air and a cup of java.”
Travis studied the man as they left the building. Ares carried himself like a cop, walking in an easy gait, balanced on both feet, always looking around and taking in everything. Once outside, he heard Ares take a deep breath. “I love this part of the country. Good air, good people, and good hunting.”
They climbed concrete stairs leading to the Terrell Mall. As they approached the twin libraries, some students spotted Travis and waved. He returned their greetings, then turned toward the businessman. “Mr. Ares, I’m not sure why I was pulled back here.”
“Call me John,” he said. “That’s right. You’re working on some kind of homicide investigation. McPeters filled me in just before we met. Sorry about the inconvenience.”
“Yeah. I need to get back to it as soon as possible.”
The man’s smile vanished. “I understand. And I’ll free you up as soon as I can.” He pointed toward a bench near the entrance to College Hall. “Let’s take a break while I explain.”
Ares was not even breathing hard after climbing the hill. Travis started to sit, but he saw Ares remained standing. He rested a foot on the bench, waiting.
“Another satisfied client recommended my firm to the university. Actually, your nemesis, University of Washington on the westside. Go Huskies.” He chuckled. “Anyway, WSU came to us about concerns they had over increased eco-terrorist and animal rights activity and threats against several other major universities. Particularly threats against faculty members involved in animal research projects and forest-harvesting development. They want to know how to protect the university against these nuts.”
“That’s not exactly my field of expertise, John. I haven’t a clue about animal research and agricultural projects this university might be involved in.”
“I know that, Travis. But here’s where you come in. I know you’re an expert on criminal organizations similar to these eco-terrorists. Same principles apply whether these criminal organizations are motivated by profit or politics. For example, you worked the Mexican drug cartels — organizations motivated by profit but also involved in the political arena to protect their organizations. We know they use or support terrorist groups whose interests coincide with the cartels. I’d like to pick your brain about how such groups might attack the university here. You are familiar with the university and might be aware of some of their vulnerabilities.”
“No offense, but isn’t that what your company is supposed to do?”
Ares smiled. “I get paid the big bucks to reach out and find those who can help us provide executive protection for our clients. That means I find guys like you.”
“So, you want to take what I know, come up with a protection plan that you can sell, and then get paid by WSU for all this?”
The man’s smile turned to a smirk. “They told me you were no dummy. It’s called free enterprise, Travis. Everything you need to know will be discussed at this meeting we are attending. Now, when can you get me that information?”
Travis reached down to tie his shoe. I need to get this guy off my back. “I should have the information you want in a day or two. Then, I need to get out of here and back to the investigation.”
Ares shook his hand. “Thanks for your help. Here’s my card. Call me anytime.”
Travis watched him move away, the businessman moving like a cat ready to pounce. Taut and agile. At one point in his life
, Travis might have been like Ares, always moving, never staying long in one place. Now, all he wanted was to be left alone, sequestered in his mountain cabin with Sam.
He thought of the river near his place, the water flowing past like life itself. He just wanted to sit and watch life pass without getting caught up in the current. Everything changed since his days as a cop. These recent infringements — Tommy’s murder and Ares’s pressure for information — made him resent the world trying to crowd back into his life.
Jessie, Frank, and now Ares.
The first mistake came when he allowed himself to become involved with Jessie, to be drawn into her brother’s murder investigation against his better judgment. He wondered if anyone but Jessie had begged him to become involved in this case whether he would have remained firm. She seemed to have awakened a spark inside him, a feeling that he thought dead for some time.
He’d take this journey one day at a time and see where it might lead.
Change always comes with a cost. Once before it brought him pain. He did not know what the future held, but he never wanted to feel that pain again.
Chapter 36
A graduate student guarded the front counter when Travis returned to his office. She looked up as Travis passed. “Professor Mays, two gentleman are waiting to see you. I let them wait in your office. I hope that’s okay?”
“Who are they?”
She stammered. “I didn’t get their names. But they showed me badges. Law enforcement from out of state.”
His stomach tightened. Badges showing up in pairs and unannounced always means trouble. As he walked down the hallway, Travis saw his office door ajar. He paused, taking a deep breath, then pushed it open.
Two men sat next to his desk. As the door opened they both rose as if they were tied together. The man nearest him smiled.
Tom Kagan.
“Man, it’s good to see you,” Travis said. “You still in homicide back in Santa Rosa?”