Skye Cree Boxed Set Books 1 - 3

by Vickie McKeehan

  When Skye and Josh left the Foundation, they jumped in Skye’s car and headed south. Driving down the I-5 toward American Lake, they went over the plan.

  “Do you really think this is the guy?”

  “It’s gotta be.” Josh ticked off the points. “He owns an isolated cabin and property near the military base. He was Ellen Schreiber’s boyfriend at the time of her murder and he was stationed at Fort Lewis as an MP. Let’s not forget that Berkenshaw interviewed Daniel Cree and even painted a picture to his superiors that Daniel had not been truthful about where he was the night Ellen went missing. We have so many indicators we should probably call Harry.”

  “Harry deals in hard facts. Let’s wait and make sure we can give him something concrete that he won’t be able to diss.”

  To get to Silcox Island they had to take a pontoon boat for the three-mile trip across the lake. Even though the water was choppy, it didn’t take long. Thanks to the groundwork they’d done at the Foundation, when they stepped off the boat, they already had an address. Sort of. From Google Earth they knew the general area where Berkenshaw’s cabin was located. What they didn’t know was the exact directions on how to get there.

  Once they disembarked, surveying the rustic setting of Silcox, it was easy to see why most residents had gone without electricity until 1967. Charming little European cottages blended with sturdy log houses used as second homes.

  Heavily wooded, the terrain was intimidating. But not as much as the locals. Asking directions to the cabin got them blank stares along with several mind-your-own-business looks.

  It soon became clear the little town was not stranger-friendly.

  They finally found a man at the post office willing to tell them how to reach the place. The small house turned out to be more like a hut. There was no one home at the small eight-hundred-square-foot getaway. But Skye and Josh circled the perimeter anyway. It looked like Berkenshaw used the place mostly for a place to stash his fishing gear and hunting rifles, of which there were many.

  It didn’t go unnoticed that his nearest neighbor had to be a good half-mile down the road, providing him with a secluded spot to do whatever he wanted.

  But despite the isolation, Skye commented, “This isn’t what I expected. It looks more like a quaint retreat than a torture chamber used for murder.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.”

  When Josh removed a pick from his jacket pocket, Skye stared at him. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like? I’m picking the lock.”

  “Another reason we didn’t call Harry,” Skye reasoned.

  “Yeah, I know. But I can’t very well kick the door in. What if he should come back? We don’t want to let him know we’ve been here or that we’re on to him.”

  Josh stuck the little wrench into the keyhole and when the tumbler clicked, they stepped inside.

  If they were expecting blood and gore or at least traces of it, they were disappointed. What they found instead was a cabin that smelled like fish. The place was not only devoid of any signs of physical violence but there were no pictures on the walls. There were no personal effects, or possessions of any kind cluttering up space. Other than tacky, second-hand furniture, it sat empty. There was nothing there that could tell them who or what Jason Berkenshaw was all about.

  Since there was no sign of carnage anywhere, no smell of death, and no signs that it had ever touched the four walls, they left the place as they’d found it.

  Like every other fourteen-year-old at Hastings Middle School, Zoe heard the freedom bell ring at three-fifteen. She scooted out of last-period geography, ran to her locker, switched out her math book for her English text, and stuffed a copy of Coraline down into her already too-heavy backpack.

  When her best friend, Molly, ran up to her in a breathless huff, Zoe prepared for the drama. Molly was always about the over-the-top rehashing of an ordinary event.

  “Do you know what that stuck-up Suzie Meyers told Merry Ann Higginbotham about me?”

  “What?”

  “Suzie said I liked Tristan. You know that’s not true. Tristan is one of those really snotty basketball players.”

  “I thought you liked Tristan and wanted him to ask you to the spring dance?” Zoe asked.

  “What does that have to do with Suzie Meyers sticking her big fat nose into how I feel about Tristan?”

  From there, Zoe gave up and listened to her friend. She didn’t have much choice in the matter since she didn’t seem to be able to ditch Molly or get her classmate to change the subject.

  By the time the two girls reached the side door where the buses lined up, Molly still hadn’t convinced Zoe that Tristan was such a bad guy. The girls kept up their steady stream of I-don’t-really-like-Tristan chatter until Zoe tried, once again, to change the subject. “Are you going to the Spring Dance next month?”

  “Well, sure.”

  “Then why don’t you come over to Lena’s house so we can get ready and go together?” Just as Zoe had hoped, that did the trick. Molly went into describing the dress she’d bought for the occasion.

  “I was hoping Tristan would ask me to the dance.”

  Zoe sighed, rolled her eyes, knowing Molly was more than predictable.

  “Come on, Molly, we have to hurry or we’ll miss the bus.” Zoe pushed open one of the heavy double doors and stepped out into another dull gray afternoon. Zoe bounded down the steps with Molly beside her until a man approached her. He was dressed in a uniform, wearing a pair of polarized Oakley sunglasses over his eyes. He flashed his badge at both teens, but directed his question to Zoe. “Are you Zoe Hollister?”

  Zoe swallowed hard. She tried to remember if old Mrs. Faraday was so mean that the librarian would rat her out to a cop for not returning her copy of A Separate Peace on time. “Yes, I’m Zoe Hollister.”

  “Good. Is Lena Bowers your foster mother? ”

  “Sure, Lena’s my foster mom. Is she okay?”

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this but Mrs. Bowers has been in a car accident. If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to see her in the hospital.”

  Skye and Josh left Silcox disheartened and moved on to Berkenshaw’s main home in Lakewood. But they found no one there either. The little three-bedroom house appeared tidy and well maintained but like the cabin seemed completely without a personality.

  By early afternoon, they realized the trip had been a complete waste of time. As they passed out of the city limits heading toward the I-5, they decided to try, once again, to locate the third property near the base.

  “But there’s no house there.”

  “The info’s wrong. It has to be. Somewhere on this piece of property is where he takes his victims, his death house,” Skye uttered in disgust. About that time, her cell phone dinged. She looked down, saw it was Leo.

  “Something weird I thought you should know about.”

  “It seems to be the day for it. What happened?”

  “Some guy left a bizarre message for you on the Foundation’s website. The IP address tracks back to the Seattle Public Library downtown. You might want to take a look at it when you get a minute.”

  “Leo, you know I’m in the car right now, getting ready to check Berkenshaw’s property near the army base. You’ll have to read it to me.”

  “Okay, here goes. It says, ‘Hey Skye, I promise this one’s gonna hurt.’ That’s exactly word for word what it says.”

  The hairs on the back of Skye’s neck stood up as she had Leo repeat it. When her phone rang signaling another call was coming in, she told Leo she’d call him back. Skye was surprised to see Lena’s number on the display.

  Sliding the bar across to answer, Skye discovered Lena frantic with hysteria. The words flowed out of the worried foster mom in one long breathless chain. “Molly Connelly, Zoe’s best friend, saw a policeman take Zoe away. He had on a uniform and got her into his Jeep Cherokee this afternoon after school by telling her I had been in an accident. It’s an obvious lie.
He took off with her, Skye. She’s gone. Zoe’s gone.”

  “Okay. Okay. Calm down. We’re on it, Lena. Josh and I are pretty sure we know where he’s taking her. We’re headed there now. Don’t worry. I’ll get her back.”

  But Josh was less certain. “The bastard took Zoe and you let Lena think we have a destination in mind. You know we don’t. We only have the general vicinity and no specifics.”

  “Then we’ll find specifics. I guess we know now why he wasn’t at home or at his fishing cabin. He was kidnapping Zoe.”

  “Let’s think about this rationally. He’s in a vehicle we already know the description of. He can’t get to his remote cabin without taking a boat. We either head back to Silcox Island or we try to find the property near the base. It’s your call.”

  “Neither one of us picked up on anything at the cabin. But we both get the willies every time we get near the army base. My gut’s telling me there’s something about the property there.”

  “Then that’s where we go. We do have an advantage.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We already did a trial run of this area before and know where it isn’t.”

  Josh took out his portable GPS. “We’re six minutes from the base. If the plan is to avoid where we’ve already looked, then we should approach from the north. Don’t get on the 5. There’s a back way in with an asphalt parking lot. It’s about the only place to leave the car.”

  “Okay. But after that, we head deeper into the woods.”

  They maneuvered past traffic trying to get on the I-5 corridor and took a left heading east. The farther they went the more the landscape changed—less shopping and more of a rustic feel. To get to the paved parking lot, Skye followed Josh’s directives from the GPS. That’s when they spotted a Jeep Cherokee ahead of them. It was hurtling down the two-lane road at a high rate of speed.

  Behind the wheel, Skye could make out two people in the car. About that time the driver spotted them. The Jeep took another left down a bumpy dirt road and disappeared from her line of sight.

  Chapter 25 Book 3

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. Thick drops of rain began to splat the windshield as Skye pulled up to the Jeep Cherokee parked on the side of the road. The driver’s door stood open as though the occupants had fled in a hurry.

  “He’s ditched the car!” Skye shouted.

  But Josh had already thrown open his door before she could come to a full stop. Jumping out, he began running, trying to pick up where the guy had taken Zoe.

  All of a sudden, she could see Kiya sprinting ahead in the distance.

  Shoving the gearshift into Park, she scrambled out of the car and took off after them doing her best to keep up.

  She finally caught up with Kiya when the wolf stopped at a dry creek bed to sniff at the overgrown trail. The path forked left or right.

  When Kiya started to head one way, abandoning the other path altogether, Skye suggested, “Maybe we should split up. That way we’ll cover more ground.”

  “We stay together,” Josh insisted.

  “Josh, our priority right now is finding Zoe. Even though I only saw two people in the Jeep, you know as well as I do we might be dealing with two killers. Someone helped Jason Berkenshaw dump Willa’s body in the park. You said so yourself. I’ll take Kiya with me to the right. You follow your own nose to the left.”

  Josh still thought the idea of splitting up was a bad one, but there was no time to argue with her since Skye didn’t wait around for agreement. She took off with Kiya in the lead.

  On her own now, Skye looked up at the drizzling clouds, spotted a hawk floating overhead with a crow as part of its flock. She didn’t like being separated from Josh. But it was good to know she was far from alone.

  At a bend in the trail Kiya took a dog leg turn farther east into the forest of evergreens and aspen. They followed the ridgeline toward the military base, zigzagging at times to avoid boulders or stumps blocking the way.

  She followed Kiya into a small clearing where horsetail and thistle were thriving in bunches. Skye heard gravel crunch behind her before Kiya snarled in warning.

  But it was too late.

  Berkenshaw was already on her from behind. She only had time to throw an elbow to his ribcage. But his momentum knocked Skye back a few steps. Off balance, she managed to block his first blow. There wasn’t time to grab for the knife in her boot, only time to gather herself before he landed his next punch to her shoulder.

  Instincts took over. She pivoted and swung her leg out. With a hard kick she aimed for his solar plexus and watched as the wind sailed out of him. It caused Berkenshaw to double over. He was forced to step back to get his breath.

  Skye took advantage of his hesitation to slide out the knife from her boot. Anticipating his next move, she readied herself for what came next. Eyeing the fury on his face she knew it would be an all-out attack. When he launched himself with all the ferocity of a lion pouncing on his lesser prey, Skye landed the heel of her boot on his knee cap. She followed that by slashing her knife across his arm, causing Berkenshaw to stumble backward.

  When she spotted Zoe out of the corner of her eye, Skye yelled, “Get out of here. Head back to the road. That way.” Skye pointed to the west. “Run straight that way. The minute you get inside the car, lock the doors.”

  “But I don’t want to leave you.”

  “I said go. Do what I say! Now!”

  By that time, Berkenshaw had righted himself, but was still having trouble evening out his breathing. Skye caught a blur of movement. Berkenshaw tried to take something out of his jacket. She drove her boot into his wrist, knocking a Beretta M9 pistol out of his hand. The force of the blow had Berkenshaw back on his heels as Skye kicked the weapon into the sandy underbrush.

  The move gave her time to assess Jason Berkenshaw. He had brown hair, green eyes and stood about five-eleven. But there was something about those cool green eyes that said no one was home.

  “Well, come on, you big wimp, haven’t you ever had a female fight back before?” Skye roared in challenge.

  “Bitch,” he spat out. “You’ll pay for this. I knew I should’ve taken you down first.”

  “Not as smart as you thought you were, huh? You’re such a dumb shit. You should’ve started with me. But you made a huge mistake. Trouble is I think you were scared, didn’t think you could take me.”

  As she hoped, her insult brought him closer. Skye saw the hatred in his icy eyes as well as the violent way they reacted. He was so mad his green orbs darted about, unfocused.

  “You killed your girlfriend, Ellen Schreiber, planted false evidence to frame my father for it when you were an MP.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? You’re crazy. I don’t know any Ellen Schreiber.”

  “Whatever you say.” Skye figured she needed one more slam to push him over the edge. “After all the women you’ve killed, it’s a female who has outsmarted you. That’s got to chap your butt.” Skye waited a beat for him to get within arm’s reach.

  “Fuck you,” he shouted and spat in her face.

  With the knife in her right hand, she jabbed him in the ribs, flicked her wrist ninety degrees, turning the blade for greater damage. With the heel of her left hand, she sent an uppercut to his nose. Although he staggered back for several seconds, the blow didn’t take him down.

  Skye swung her leg out in an arc, angled, and sent her boot into his face. But he still didn’t go down. Instead, he decided to charge. Like a bull running toward a matador’s cape, he tackled her and brought her to the ground.

  Her back hit first with a thud. Berkenshaw jumped on her, doing his best to straddle her. Her sheer grit refused to let him take control. But with the blood oozing from his wounds it was enough to soak her gloves causing her to lose her solid grip on the knife. It slipped out of her grasp, landed somewhere next to them in the dirt.

  She bucked hard and to the left, causing Berkenshaw to lose his balance and tip over. Momentum had he
r rolling until she prevailed on top.

  From her sitting position, she brought her knee up, jammed it into his crotch. From a standing position with full thrust, the pain in his balls would’ve been a lot worse. But she had to settle for what she could dish out. That’s why she didn’t let up. With gloved fists, she pounded him and sent punch after punch to his belly, his face, his throat.

  She spotted the knife about the same time he did. They grappled for it, but Skye got to it first. Wrapping her fist around the handle, they fought for control. While he pushed it away, she tried to angle it back toward his torso.

  Gripping the handle as tight as she could, she brought it up, inches off the dirt. Strength to strength, she forced the blade until it hovered over his midsection. With a final burst of energy, she managed to cut a ribbon across his chest.

  When he screamed out in pain, she changed directions, bringing the edge diagonally in a swath the other way. She raised the knife to stab him in the heart.

  And then everything went black.

  Josh might not have agreed with splitting up, but he couldn’t deny there was someone behind him, dogging him, and circling back. He smelled blood right before he heard Kiya’s mournful wail. He changed course and followed the abject moaning through a thick scrub of sagebrush and sedge.

  Since he recognized what that sound meant, he knew Skye was in trouble. As soon as he reached a clear route, he took off running.

  The minute he got to the little glade, he saw his wife lying on the ground, an open wound to the back of her head. Blood poured from the gash.

  The silver wolf stood over her charge, her front paws resting on Skye’s chest. Josh watched as Kiya licked the face of the woman he loved—and shimmered into an unconscious Skye.