Should Be Dead (The Valkyrie Smith Mystery Series Book 1)

by Jeramy Gates

  This was one of Riley’s little memory tricks. It was a reporter’s job to meet thousands of people over the course of his career, and the only way to remember all those names was by word association. Associating the name with an image somehow made it easier.

  “Good morning, Agent Smith,” he said, stepping out of his Toyota. Next to the Packard, it looked like a little silver toy.

  “I was hoping I might see you today,” Val said. She reached out to shake his hand. Her skin was soft, her fingers long and thin, like her body. She stood half a foot taller than him, which Riley found more than a little intimidating. Her height and confidence, coupled with the image of a Norse goddess in the back of his mind, made Riley’s palms start to sweat.

  “You wanted to see me?” he said. “About what?”

  Val cast her gaze around the clearing, constantly aware of her environment. “I had to leave in a hurry last night. I had an important call to make to my supervisor. I thought you might fill me in on the details of what happened after I left.”

  “You didn’t miss much. The sheriff was looking for you, but he left right after you disappeared.”

  “Did he mention why he was looking for me?”

  “I think he just wanted your opinion. I talked to him an hour ago, and he’s got nothing. The killer didn’t leave any prints at all. There was a shoe print in the blood, but that’s a long shot. And DNA samples, of course. Lots and lots of DNA, but God only knows who it all belongs to, or whether it will match anything in the database.”

  “Has anything like this happened around here before?”

  “No, not like this. Not in my lifetime. I mean murders happen in Sequoia County, just like everywhere else. A woman was raped and killed while hitchhiking through Stumptown last year and there’s a bit of a gang problem in Santa Rosa, but this… this is something completely different. The killer wasn’t looking for money or drugs. He did it for the thrill. You’d have to go back a long time to find something else like that around here. Back to the Zodiac, maybe.”

  “What about other violent offenders? Maybe the sheriff has a suspect on the books already.”

  “That’s possible. Your best bet is just to ask him. Diekmann remembers everything.”

  “You think highly of the sheriff.” It wasn’t a question, but an observation. There was no subtlety about Valkyrie, no hints or implications. She said exactly what she thought. Riley could already see that much about her.

  “Diekmann’s a good man. He doesn’t put up with any B-S, but if you’re honest and you respect him, you couldn’t have a better friend.”

  “Where would I find him?” Val said.

  “The Sheriff’s Department is behind the Vine Hill airport. If he’s not there, you might find him at the Cowboy Café downtown.”

  Val thanked Riley and turned away. “That’s a nice car,” he said behind her. “That’s a Packard, right?”

  “Yes, it’s a 1934.

  “Do you mind if I take a look?”

  Val opened the door and stepped back, gesturing for Riley to help himself. He poked his head inside and let out a long whistle. “Leather upholstery, burl-wood dash panels, brass gauges. It even has a matching floor console. I’ve never seen a restoration this classy. This car is amazing!”

  “Thank you. My husband restored it himself. It was a pet project of his before… before he died.”

  Riley pulled his head out of the car. “I’m sorry for your loss. Your husband was talented.”

  “I know,” she said with a sigh.

  “Does it have the V12 engine?”

  “It does. Tom rebuilt that, too. It’s like new. Better than new, or so I’ve been told. Apparently, he upgraded a few things. I don’t know much about it. I just know that it goes a lot faster than Uncle Sam will allow.”

  “Do you know what this car is worth?” Riley said, glancing sideways at her.

  “It’s invaluable,” she said. “I could never sell it.”

  “I understand. Thanks for the look-see. If you track Diekmann down, I’m sure he’ll want a look at it, too. I bet he had one of these, back when he was a kid and dinosaurs roamed the earth. He used to race cars, or so I’ve heard.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Chapter 8

  Val smiled as she settled into the Packard and closed the door. She pressed the starter button on the dash -not the original button, but a hi-tech upgrade with a built in fingerprint scanner- and the engine roared faithfully to life. It was quiet inside, but she could feel the familiar vibrations of the massive V12 shaking the floorboards. On the outside, it rumbled like distant thunder.

  As she drove back down the lane, Val caught a glimpse of Riley in the rear view mirror, staring after her. She wondered if he was interested in the car or something else. Val got the sense that Riley was a lonely man. Her past experiences had taught Valkyrie that men like Riley tended to be forthcoming, even if shy and unconfident. A friendly smile and a little bit of flirting went a long way with his type. In Riley’s case, that hadn’t even been necessary. The guy was an open book. It helped that he believed she was a fed, of course, but if Riley hadn’t been the trusting type, that wouldn’t have mattered. Either way, the reporter hadn’t been much help. Not yet, anyway.

  The fact that he had been at the crime scene was a good sign. That meant Riley was taking a personal interest in the case, and since he was a friend of the sheriff’s, that made him a valuable resource. Val expected she would be seeing Riley again. She activated the large-screen GPS system on the center console and said, “Locate Sheriff.”

  The system automatically pulled up three different choices, the first for Sequoia County, the others for neighboring Lake and Mendocino counties. She tapped number one, and the GPS pulled up a map. Val’s cell phone rang, and she touched the speakerphone button.

  “Well?” said Matt’s voice. “Did you have another look at the crime scene?”

  “It was a waste of time,” she said. “There were no fingerprints. There might be DNA, but the place was a slaughterhouse. It would take months and thousands of dollars of testing to find anything useful.”

  “What else do we have to go on?” Matt said.

  “Nothing, unless I can get some info out of the sheriff.”

  “You’re going to talk to him personally? Val, I told you that was a bad idea.”

  “I don’t have much choice,” she said. “My only alternative is to sit on my hands until Odin kills again, and that isn’t an option.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll call you when I have something more.”

  Forty minutes later, Val pulled into the Sheriff’s Department parking lot. It was a nondescript concrete building sitting at the edge of an empty field. There were a few other buildings in the area, mostly winery storage and light industrial companies. A mile to the south, she could see a small jet airplane coming in for a landing at the county airport. Other than the jet and the tower, she couldn’t see anything else in that direction but trees. Compared to the redwoods and the miles of vineyards she’d passed along the way into town, the area around the Sherriff’s Department seemed downright bleak.

  Val parked out front and then introduced herself to Lucy, the dark-haired woman at the front desk. “Oh, I know who you are,” Lucy said with a grin. “The boys were talking about you all night.”

  “I see,” Val said.

  “Oh, don’t worry about them. You just took them by surprise, that’s all. Of course, now that I see you, I don’t wonder why. Mysterious and beautiful, and a fed to boot. These neanderthals will be fighting each other to buy you drinks by the end of the day.”

  “I’m not much of a drinker,” Val said. “And I won’t be in town long…”

  “Goodness, don’t say that! They’ll be all over you like flies on- well, you know what I mean. Diekmann is in his office down the hall. Your timing is perfect. He’s on his third cup of coffee.” She leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “You don
’t want to visit him until he’s had at least two cups. Before that, he’s like a bear straight out of hibernation.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  Val stepped around the desk and found her way to Diekmann’s office down the hall. The door was open, and he waved her in when she appeared.

  “I wondered if you were still around,” he said. “You disappeared on us last night.”

  “Sorry about that,” Val said. “I had to report to my supervisor.”

  “Since you’re still here, I guess that means you know something about this case.”

  “Not necessarily. I’m going to stick around for a few days to be sure. If you don’t mind, of course.”

  “Glad to have you,” Diekmann said. “Frankly, we could use the extra help. With all the budget cuts, I’ve been running a skeleton crew for the last two years. I can hardly afford to keep the lights on.”

  “I completely understand. If there’s any way I can help you sheriff, just give me a call.” She produced one of the business cards Matt had provided to supplement her false identities, and handed it to him. “This has my number. I’m staying at the Bodega Bay Suites. Do you have anything on the killer so far, sheriff?”

  “Call me Bill. I’m afraid we’re simmering at the moment. We sent some DNA samples to the lab, but that could take weeks. In the meanwhile-” the phone rang, interrupting him. Diekmann gave her an apologetic smile as he took the call. His smile vanished, and then turned into a dark frown as he hung up.

  “We might have something,” he said. “A couple kids found a burned-out van in Forestville on the riverbank. One of my deputies is at the scene. Would you care to come along?”

  “I’ll follow you.”

  Val hoped she didn’t sound too standoffish. She had no desire to get stuck driving around with Diekmann. The game she was playing was a dangerous one; one in which not only the killers, but the police themselves were potential enemies. Thankfully, Diekmann didn’t seem to take it personally. Perhaps this was standard procedure when operating with federal agents. Or, perhaps Diekmann had realized that with her handicap, it was more comfortable to travel in her own vehicle. Val made a mental note to keep that excuse handy, in case she needed it later.

  Diekmann crawled into his old yellow truck and led the way back through town. They drove down several miles of narrow, one-lane back roads and eventually pulled out onto Highway 116. They headed west, and soon Val noted a sign along the road that bore the words: “Entering Forestville, Population 3200.” A mile later, they pulled off the road in a densely wooded area. Despite the sign, Val hadn’t seen anything resembling a town.

  A young deputy hurried up the trail to greet them as they exited their vehicles. His nametag said Nathan Kinney, and Val recognized him as the rookie who’d discovered the bodies the night before. She knew, because she had been listening to the whole conversation on her scanner.

  “It’s this way, sheriff,” Nate said. He gestured toward a path just off the road that wound down through the trees towards the river. “We think the driver broke through the gate at the regional park down the road, and then drove up the beach. It’s just through the woods.”

  “Watch your step,” Diekmann said to Val as they approached the embankment. He offered her a hand, and Valkyrie accepted his help, although it wasn’t really necessary. Aside from her fused spine, Val was in quite good physical condition. She had learned to work with her disability, and she made a point of staying fit. If anything, her injury served as a constant reminder of that need. With the exception of Matt, who was a thousand miles away, Valkyrie was alone. She was implicitly aware of the fact that when she needed help most, it would almost certainly not be there. When it came down to it, she only had herself to depend on. Her strength, her wits, and her skill with a gun.

  The canopy closed in overhead, and the smell of mint and wild lilacs washed over her. The sun was shining, though very little light made it all the way down to the ground. The trees were too tall, too densely packed together. The ground was wet and soft under her shoes, and the grass and ferns left her pant legs uncomfortably damp. Nate kindly pointed out a patch of poison oak just off the trail, and warned her to keep away from it. Val had never seen poison oak, but she was very familiar with poison ivy. She told him this.

  “Poison oak is worse,” Nate said. “It gets under your skin and causes an itchy rash that lasts for weeks. And it spreads if you touch it. My brother got it on his privates once and mom ended up getting him a prescription to numb his… you know. He could hardly pee for three weeks.”

  Val winced.

  “That isn’t all,” Nate continued. “If somebody burns this stuff and inhales the smoke, it could kill him. I’ve seen people hospitalized for that. On the bright side, we don’t have any water moccasins or anything like that around here. Except for the black widows. They’re everywhere.”

  “Ignore him,” Diekmann said. “Nate, would you please shut up?”

  “Sorry, sheriff. Just making small talk.”

  At the bottom of the hill, the path leveled out and warm sunlight washed down, sparkling across the surface of the river. The van was sitting on the narrow, rocky shore just a few feet away from the water’s edge. The doors were open, and Val could see the scorch marks on the interior and up along the roofline. The killer had tried to burn it down.

  Several cops encircled the van, taking measurements and pictures, searching for evidence. A bright yellow tow truck sat idling a hundred yards down the beach, the rattling sound of the diesel engine echoing across the water. Val noticed a kayaker paddling slowly by, watching the scene.

  “There’s one thing I have to tell you sheriff,” Nate said as they stepped out onto the gravelly beach. “I hope you don’t fire me, because I royally screwed up.”

  Diekmann gave him a stern look. “Go on.”

  “Last night, when I got the call about the Brooks family, I was tailing a van. This van. I was about to pull him over when I got the call. I let him go. I’m sorry, sheriff. I had no idea.”

  “You’re sure it was this van?”

  “I’d know it anywhere. The broken taillight caught my attention at first. I knew there was something else, though. Something weird about it. It just seemed off. I ran the plates, but they came up clean.”

  “It wasn’t reported stolen?”

  “No. Laura said it was registered to someone at the Marigold RV Park, up the road a couple miles. She didn’t save the information, and now the plates are gone.”

  “What about the registration?”

  “Nothing. He scratched out the VIN number, too.”

  “After we’re done here, I want you to swing by the RV park and ask around. Somebody there will recognize this van.”

  “Sure thing, sheriff. Anyway, we’ve got blood just about everywhere, but no prints. The killer must have been wearing gloves.”

  “I want DNA samples. Blood, hair, whatever you can find. And I want prints. Somewhere in that van, there’s a print. This van is what connects our killer to the murders, understand?”

  “Got it. We’ll find it, sheriff.”

  Val cleared her throat. “Sheriff, do you mind if I take a look?”

  “Knock yourself out,” he said. “Just don’t touch anything.”

  Val made her way to the van, moving slowly because she didn’t trust her cane on the slick river stones. She circled around the front of the vehicle, noting the smoky discoloration at the top of the windshield. The officer searching the front of the van moved aside so she could look inside the cab.

  The acrid scent of burnt plastic and melted vinyl washed over her, burning her nostrils and making her eyes water. Val didn’t see much of interest. As Nate had said, there were blackened stains and smears of blood on everything. The killer hadn’t given a second thought to cleaning up, maybe because he had been wearing gloves, and because he had planned on burning the van. She wondered which of them it had been, Odin, or Loki? Or both of them? What was it like when two serial kill
ers worked together? Did they carpool? Did they share an apartment somewhere nearby?

  Despite the fire, much of the van’s carpeting and upholstery remained. Valkyrie guessed that after burning whatever accelerant they had used, the fire must have gone out rather quickly. She wondered why the killers hadn’t stuck around long enough to make sure it finished burning. Maybe they’d been scared off by somebody. Maybe they were just too worked up, too emotionally charged to think rationally. That wasn’t hard to imagine, considering how off-kilter their minds were already. But where could they have gone?

  She turned in a slow circle, scanning the terrain. Odin and Loki could have gone back up to the highway to hitch a ride. If that were the case, someone would have seen them... Unless they had a second vehicle waiting. In that case, they might have been in and out of the scene in minutes. On the other hand, they might have crossed the river and disappeared into the woods on the other side without leaving a single witness. Nate had said the van was registered to an RV park up the road. The vehicle had probably been stolen, but she decided it was a good place to start. She circled around the back of the van and looked inside the cargo box.

  “What do you think?” said the sheriff behind her. “Is this your guy?”

  Val glanced at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know, the other case. The reason the Brooks murders got flagged by the feds.”

  Valkyrie pursed her lips. She had almost forgotten about that little white lie. “This case does have a few things in common with another recent murder, but I doubt there’s any connection.”

  “I see. I guess that means your work is done here.”

  “I could stick around a few more days,” she said, trying not to sound too eager. “I don’t know if it will do any good, considering how little we have to go on, but I’d like to help you solve this thing. If we can, that is.”

  “I’m not ready to give up yet. We could definitely use your help.”

  “Perfect.” Val took a step back from the van, and glanced at the trail leading into the trees. “Well, it has been quite a hike for me, sheriff. If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to excuse myself.”