by Jon Mills
Throughout the entire journey, Ray kept scratching his neck and patting his leg anxiously while shaking his head and telling her to turn around. She’d contemplated dropping him off before she left but at this stage she wasn’t sure what role he’d played in the abductions. Her gut told her that he didn’t have the mental capacity to pull it off and if Goodman was right about the timeline of the latest kidnapping — unless he dumped the boy’s body somewhere locally he wouldn’t have been able to make the journey out to Crescent Lake and back before she saw him. Still, she hadn’t ruled him out.
Veering into a clearing where vehicles had worn away the grass, Kara told Ray to get out. It was a short walk along a rocky trail that ascended then descended to the infamous bridge that spanned an inlet of the lake known as the Punchbowl. The wind was kicking up the water causing it to splash against the shore. Using nothing more than the light from her phone they made their way down to the bridge and looked out. She was hoping Ray might pick up on something, get an impression, anything that might lead them in the right direction.
“You remember this place?” she asked, pulling up her collar around her ears. There could have only been a few places where a cabin could have been due to the park belonging to the government. She figured it had to have been nearby, maybe off one of the local roads but which? They could be out there all night. She’d taken the sketches along with her in the hope that showing them to him and then pointing might trigger something in him. It didn’t. He just shook from nerves or the cold, then turned around wanting to go back to the car.
“Ray.”
“Wwwee ssshhouldn’t be here.”
She caught up with him and grabbed a hold of him. “A young boy is missing! Look, I’m going out on a limb here hoping that you know where they are. You wanted someone to listen, I’m listening. Please. Help me find him.”
He kept walking, so she grabbed him and made him stop.
A light rain started to fall, droplets pinged off his jacket, and he stared back at her.
“Please,” she said. He nodded but couldn’t give her any information on the area. Trying to connect the dots they returned to her vehicle and traveled around the lake on Route 101. Tall pine trees blocked out the view of the landscape while the lake glistened under the night’s moon. They passed by a few vehicles on the way, locals, maybe tourists who were heading out from Barnes Point. She headed for the Storm King Ranger Station parking lot and boat launch. It was also the spot that provided tourists with access to the Marymere Falls Trail.
Gravel kicked up, spitting against the side of the SUV as she brought it around into the nearly empty lot. Off to her left were three other vehicles, two of which were pulling out boats from the lake.
“Stay here.”
Kara jumped out and hurried down a steep incline to the boat launch. A large red 4 x 4 pickup truck was hauling a boat out leaving one other boat in the water with a spotlight and fishing gear in the back. Three guys were yakking up a storm as she approached.
“You leaving for the night or doing some night fishing?” she asked.
“What?”
“Leaving or night fishing?”
One of the guys, dressed in a rain jacket, a Nike baseball cap, jeans and yellow work boots, pushed away from the boat which was already on a trailer. It looked as if they were just waiting for their friend to bring the truck down so they could hook it up. He turned and flashed a light in her face. She squinted and lifted her forearm to block the glare.
“About to call it a day,” he replied.
“How much to do a loop of the lake’s perimeter?” she asked.
“What?”
“The perimeter. How much?”
His two buddies chuckled. “Lady, we’re not a tour guide service.”
She pulled out her badge and flashed it. “Look, I really need the use of your boat. There is a boy missing. So I can either commandeer it or pay you some green. What’s it gonna be?”
The one guy closest to her looked back at his pals then turned back. “How much you got?”
“How much will it cost?” she asked.
“You just want to go around the perimeter one time, right?”
The rain and wind had begun to pick up, and it was plastering her dark hair to her forehead. She nodded getting chilled by the cold.
“Forty bucks,” he said.
“Got yourself a deal.” She cast a glance back at her vehicle to make sure Ray was still there then waved him down. She fished out two twenties and was about to hand it over when they caught sight of Ray.
“That’s per person.”
She frowned. “Are you serious?”
“Lady, does it look like you’ve got many other options?”
“I could commandeer it.”
“And I could file a complaint,” he replied. She fished out another forty, and he snatched it out of her hand before she could change her mind.
The weathered-looking man twirled his finger in the air. “Okay boys, let’s get her back out.” The other two groaned and put the boat back into the water. She and Ray climbed into the eighteen-foot fishing boat and took a seat while the guy she’d been speaking with fired up the motor. Water churned up behind them, turning the pristine water into foam as the boat veered away from the shore.
“You say a boy’s gone missing?” he asked, yelling over the roar of the motor. A light mist blew against Kara’s face as she made her way up beside him.
“Twelve years old.”
“Shit. I’m Reg by the way, and these other fellas are friends of mine.”
“Kara Walker.”
“So what are we looking for here, Ms. Walker?”
“A cabin.”
She pulled out the sketches and was struggling to show him using the light from her phone when he shouted out, “Steve, give this lady your flashlight.” His buddy came over and handed over a large Maglite. She shone it on the sketch.
“I know it’s not much to go by but it has to be in the area.”
He snorted. “Must be some serious cutbacks if that’s all they’ve given you for the investigation.” He turned around and yelled for Steve to turn on the spotlight. He moved over to a large LED light attached to side of the boat. A flip of the switch and a bright white light bathed the edge of the shore. The engine continued to roar as they made their way along the south shore.
“Chances are if it’s a cabin it will be on the northwest side,” Steve hollered. “Closer to Camp David Junior Road. It’s the only area that I know that allows cabins so close to the lake. I’ve not seen any homes along Olympic Highway. At least not on this side.”
She nodded and looked back at Ray who was clinging to the edge of the boat like he was on some kind of roller-coaster ride. The boat bounced over the waves making all of them grab hold of the edge.
They must have been on the water for close to an hour, searching up and down, shining the light on old and new cabins, when Kara spotted it. It wasn’t the cabin itself that caught her eye as much as it was the mossy tree that overhung the water and the tire swing hanging off it. She told Steve, and he hollered to Reg.
“Reg! Can you swing it back around?”
She made her way across to Ray and took a seat beside him. She pulled out her phone and tried to get a signal. There were no bars. She got up and held it up. “Come on, you bastard.”
“You won’t get much out here,” Steve yelled. “You need to go further inland.”
“Shit.”
As Reg brought the boat around and closer to the cabin, she directed the LED spotlight towards it. It was a gorgeous two-story pine cabin with a red steel roof. It was nestled into Olympic National Park on three sides and positioned right on the lake, two miles from the Fairholme General Store, and offered privacy and seclusion. There were double decks and a boathouse with a dock. No interior lights were on in the cabin but there was a fifteen-foot fishing boat bobbing up and down, tied to the dock.
“Can you pull up closer to the dock?” Kara asked.
&n
bsp; Reg nodded and brought it in. Kara continued to try and get a signal on her phone but there was nothing. “Listen, do me a favor when you get back to the boat launch, I need you to call Clallam County and ask for Noah Goodman. Tell him where I am. You got that?”
Reg extended an open hand.
“Oh you have got to be kidding me?”
Steve ambled up to the front and slapped it. “Forget money. We’ll do it.”
“I was just joking,” Reg said as she motioned for Ray to climb out of the boat. They hopped on to the rickety wooden dock and it shifted slightly below their feet. She’d considered having Ray go with the three men but with the chance that he might offer some insight into where the boy might be, she opted to keep him close. The rain was now starting to come down harder, splattering against the landscape, blanketing the ground and making the dock slick.
Chapter 41
The smell of pine was heavy in the air as they walked side by side up the dock. Kara looked back at the boat as it kicked up water then disappeared into the night. Further up the slope, an ancient oak spread its low-hanging limbs over the home like an outstretched hand. Their footsteps were lost in the rustle of leaves and the howling wind. The dock turned sharply to the right and led up to the rear of the home. There were four windows that were covered by drapes, and French-style sliding doors.
Kara raised a hand and they crouched a short distance from the windows, waiting. No movement could be heard outside, or even from the house. Farther up, around the house, she could just make out through the trees an SUV, blue, a Ford Explorer. She certainly didn’t recognize it. If there was no one out front or around the back, whoever owned it had to be in the cabin. But with all the noise of the boat, why hadn’t anyone come out?
Kara reached into her jacket to retrieve her Glock. She did a routine check to make sure the magazine was loaded, and a round was in the chamber, before she turned back to Ray who was shivering. There was little shelter outside except from the overhanging parts of the home, and a few large leafy branches. She shuffled close to Ray. “You picking up on anything? Got any impressions?”
She had no idea how his gifting worked, or even if it was a gifting. For all she knew, he was playing her, and this was all one big act to draw her into some trap. It wouldn’t have been the first time criminals had lied to her. Still, something about the way he acted led her to believe he was telling the truth. Ray shook his head, the features of his face twisting in fear. Kara tugged at his arm and indicated where she was heading. He shook his head and cowered back.
“Okay, stay here. Don’t move, you understand?” She felt like she was talking to a kid. He still hadn’t shown signs that his IQ was anything higher than a child’s. Moving forward at a crouch, she scurried to the rear windows of the cabin and peered past the drapes. Noticing there was no movement inside, she pressed on, tiptoeing her way over to the French doors. She pressed her ear to the glass, and strained to hear sounds but heard nothing. No voices, no creaking floorboards, no TV or music.
As soon as she was certain it was all clear she reached up and took hold of the handle and pushed the door. It was unlocked. Perfect.
She glanced back at Ray and gave him the thumbs-up.
Kara kept her service weapon low and entered.
It was dark inside, so dark that she had no other option than to switch on the Maglite. Holding it with her left hand, and her Glock with her right, she scanned the carpeted room that joined to an open kitchen and dining area. To the left of her were several pieces of furniture; a patterned couch, a single armchair, a small table with an old-style boxy TV, some odd-looking artwork on the pine paneled walls, and a fireplace stove in the corner. To the right there was worn vinyl flooring, with a long dining table with six green cushioned chairs, and a kitchen that looked dated. A set of carpeted steps at the far side of the room disappeared up to a second floor. There were also two doors, one that led out to the east side of the home, and one she assumed opened up the front of the cabin. She tried the light switch on the wall but there was no power. As Kara moved inside, a floorboard creaked beneath her feet.
She tried the door ahead of her.
Kara stepped to one side, turned the knob and eased it open. It groaned, its age revealing itself. She was about to step forward when she heard a creak above her. Kara backed up and peered around to the staircase. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her hands sweating and pulse racing. The night she was fourteen played over and over in her mind — the looming figure, the flash of a knife, his gravelly threatening voice. She slapped the past away as she approached the steps and began to climb. Her gun arm was out, just under her line of vision. It swung with her head as she pressed her back to the wall and went up. She’d only made it five steps when the sound of boots pounding the second floor startled her. It was fast. She hurried up just in time to see a large figure head out the sliding doors and jump over the balcony. The word “stop!” came out as a croak before she followed after the figure.
“Kara!” She heard his voice come from behind. It came out like a whisper. Kara swiveled fast, her arms shaking. She had to will her breathing to slow down or she was liable to bring on a panic attack. She peered over the edge of the balcony to see if she could make out Ray. Fortunately he was still there, slightly hidden by low-hanging branches. She could just make out the tip of his boots. Whoever jumped over would have been seen by Ray.
Back inside the house, she heard her name again, this time she was able to get a bead on it. It was coming from the ground level. She hurried down the steps, her mouth dry, eyes darting back and forth, fixating on every shadow.
The beam of the flashlight swept the room picking up the silhouettes of furniture like a lighthouse beam washing over the rocky shore. As she turned into the corridor that led down to where there were bedrooms, she caught a glimpse of him, then he moved. In the darkness all she could make out was his silhouette but it was enough. Enough to know him. Enough to remember that night. Fear shot through her paralyzing her to the spot. Years of training went out the window. In that moment she wasn’t a grizzled veteran but a fourteen-year-old, a terrified girl reliving a horrifying event. Seconds felt like minutes as she stood there. Her flight-or-fight instincts kicked in and her mind waged a war. Torn between wanting to flee or instead face her fear, she remained fixed to the spot. It was only the sound of a desperate scream that snapped her out of the trancelike state.
A memory from her time in the academy. A moment when they showed a video of a police officer running into a school while kids were running out after a shooting, and the words of her instructor saying — that will be you. You go in when others will run out. That’s what you’ve signed up for.
She swallowed hard, took a deep breath and moved forward making her way to the top of the stairwell. As she turned and shone her flashlight down into the pit of the basement she had to summon every ounce of courage to go down. Her training taught her to call for backup but with zero signal and without having seen a landline phone in the house, she was going to have to hope Reg and his buddies made the call. Right now the life of a kid was hanging in the balance.
Another scream, this time Kara didn’t hesitate.
Keeping her gun out in front, angled down, and her back to the bannister she kept the light washing over the darkness beneath her. Six steps. That’s all she’d taken when she felt a jab to the back of one foot. It was so sudden, sharp and painful she lost her footing and tumbled down the steps. The flashlight shot out of her hands but somehow she managed to keep a grip on the Glock. It was the only thing that saved her. Hitting the ground, she saw movement heading towards her. A dark mass appeared out from behind the staircase. Kara fired a round, and the muzzle flash lit up the damp-smelling room.
Boots pounded the ground, darting in between pillars which supported the upper levels. She gasped, her left ribs felt like they were fractured. Every breath was harder than the last. “Ashton Cole!” Kara yelled out. A muffled cry came from her left, further back
in the dingy unfinished basement. Kara struggled to get up. Her flashlight was still on, two feet away from her. As she moved to collect it, he ran at her. She turned and fired, and backed up to the wall trying to get a bead on him. The only light came from the moon, and it was barely filtering through the paint-covered windows. Someone had attempted to blot out the light. Kara tried to control her breathing. Get a grip. Nervously her eyes whipped from side to side like windshield wipers. Searching. Listening.
A figure flashed past her field of vision, she turned fast but he was gone. She heard him ascend the steps disappearing upstairs. Just about to take off after him, she heard more muffled cries. Kara shone the light to the back of the room. There in the darkness the light washed over a boy tied to a support beam, with his mouth gagged. Kara hurried over, her only thought going through her mind was to get him out. He was sobbing, and he let out a loud muffled cry as she dropped to a knee. His hands were bound with thin rope, and his arms wrapped around a steel beam.
“Ashton?”
He nodded.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now.”
His cries didn’t stop, they were so loud as she untied his hands that she didn’t hear her attacker approach. A plastic bag went over her face and she was yanked back so fast, the gun slipped out of her hand. Kara reached up, gasping and clawing at the plastic as she was dragged across the concrete basement like a rag doll. Through the blur of plastic, and her breath fogging up the inside, she could just make out her attacker.
It was too dark.
Panic overtook her, sending her into desperation.
Her attacker didn’t say anything to her but continued to drag her until he released her, kicking her into a roll across the room. The plastic came off and she gasped for air. Why? Why hadn’t he killed her? He had her where he wanted her. He was in full control.
Control.
That’s what this was about.
He was taunting her. Dragging it out. Relishing the fear he was instilling in her.
As she lay on the ground trying to catch her breath she saw him cross the room and scoop up her service weapon. “You know you have more fight in you than your mother did.” He scoffed. “Then again she had tetrodotoxin running through her system. It’s interesting how the body reacts to it at a high dosage. It paralyzes you, but you can still feel pain. Now I figure they’ll find it in the toxicology report, but by then it will be too late. And with your mother’s history of depression, I doubt it will make news.”