Death Scent

by D. L. Keur

  Martin Doyle eyed him like he was sizing him up, then nodded. “Good to hear you’re coming out of your shock and lockdown, Landon. And I’m right with you on this. Let’s get this perp. Still think we’re going to need help, though. Maybe the FBI might be a good idea. Think about it. They’ve got resources we don’t.”

  Landon stalked off, intent on finding the Anderson girl. He didn’t like her out of his sight. He didn’t trust her, but also felt he owed her, and, since she wasn’t armed, good protection was his payback.

  *

  Jessie was laying markers everywhere one of her dogs alerted. Some of the ‘finds’ were instantly recognizable to Landon—a rib, a gnawed femur, part of a hip. Others not so much.

  Finding a skull wedged between some rocks where the creek had previously run before last spring’s flooding had changed its course gave them a hint to how long the body had been there. Hopefully, the few teeth still lodged in the upper jaw would give them an I.D, Jessie told him. The lower jaw was missing.

  “There’s nothing to say this all isn’t the same body,” Reid said, putting yet another unrecognizable something into an evidence bag. “What should I mark this?”

  “That’s a patella,” Jessie told him, loading another roll of film in the 35mm.

  “Right. Do you think this is all from one body?”

  “I think it’s at least two bodies,” Jessie said.

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  “Because we’ve found three femur heads.”

  The way she said it struck him as morbid, somehow—funny morbid. “Could be a three-legged human, though, right?” He grinned saying it. Meant not to. Couldn’t help himself.

  Jessica Anderson started to chuckle. And then she started to laugh outright, unable to stop. Plopping herself down, she gave herself up to it until what Reid recognized as mild hysteria in both him and her worked its way gone.

  Reid squatted down a few feet away and waited. When the fit subsided and she caught her breath, she told him, “You shouldn’t do that. I haven’t eaten all day, and I think I’m giddy with the horror of all this. I run by the bottom of Lower Long Peak Falls every morning. I almost took the cliff path this morning. I would have run straight into whoever is responsible. This is basically in my back yard, and, honestly, it’s freaking me out.”

  “Yeah. I can understand that.” He pulled his pack off, found what he knew was there, and handed it to her—a Snickers® bar.

  “Thanks.” She took the wrapper off, took a bite and chewed. Then, suddenly, she clapped a hand to her mouth. Her eyes got panicked. “Oh, my God. My family is going to be freaked. What time is it?”

  “I had Martin call them and let them know what was up hours ago. No worries on that count, Miss Anderson.” The relief that came over her was keen. Family mattered to her.

  “Thank you.” Then, she said something that took him off balance. “Would you please call me Jessie or Jessica? I think we’re past any formalities at this point.”

  He thought about it. Wasn’t sure, then, deciding, nodded. “Okay. …Jessie.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It will be dark soon. You up for doing this again tomorrow?”

  “Yes. The dogs and I will be here.”

  “Good.”

  *

  Landon drove Jessie and her dogs down to her place, then unexpectedly got invited in to join them for dinner.

  “What’s goin’ on, Sheriff,” Darby asked, herding him into the living room. “Sit down. Sit down.”

  Landon took the same chair he had last time he had been here and let out a long sigh. He was suddenly feeling the long day in every joint and every muscle in his body. “Can’t really talk about it, Mr. Anderson.”

  “Darby,” the man said. “Call me Darby. There are way too many Mr. Andersons around here. And we already know about the dead girl. Jessie wasn’t under any gag order when you and yours waltzed in here and stole her property.”

  Reid flinched—couldn’t help himself. “Maybe I should get going,” he said, getting to his feet.

  “Jes’ set yourself down. You’re a full-grown man. I should be able to talk straight with you. The dinner invitation wasn’t a trap, but a genuine gesture of good will. More than you’ve shown this family, by the by.”

  Reid shook his head. Darby was direct. He did as bid, but he felt like he was being dressed down by his granddad and didn’t like it.

  The old man glared at him. “You’re using my granddaughter. What danger is there to sit and listen to her old granddad who’s a tad bit worried about her traipsin’ around up there with a murderer on the loose?”

  Again, Reid shook his head. “I’ve got deputies all over that mountain,” he said finally. “Nobody is going to get near her. That I promise.”

  “Good to know.” The old man’s face relaxed some. “Jessie is special. I hope you know that,” he said, his voice going soft.

  “Special?” he asked, thinking the man meant ‘damaged’ because of the PTSD.

  Darby Anderson nodded. “She’s the one who will carry this operation forward into the future—our bread and butter and the future of our very special dogs. We can’t go having you getting her hurt, maimed, or killed.”

  Somehow those words made an odd joy flood through him. “I have no intention of allowing anything to happen, Mr. Anderson.”

  “It’s Darby, and good, again. So, you going to drop those charges against her?”

  Landon frowned. “There are no charges.”

  “As yet.”

  “There won’t be.”

  “Also good to hear. What about her property?”

  Direct and straight to the point, just like he had a laundry list, and it was Reid who was on the hot seat. “Let me talk to the prosecutor about that. I’ll see if we can release it. I can’t see keeping it any longer, not with what we now have.”

  “Good. I don’t much care for high-handed confiscation of private property. It’s un-American. It’s not the way you treat good folk. ’Specially those you owe. You wouldn’t even be crawling around that mountain weren’t it for Jessie and her search and rescue setup—her dogs and those bug-like flying contraptions.”

  What the old timer said was true, Landon had to admit. If it hadn’t been for Jessie discovering that body, they might not have ever known until some hiker or hunter stumbled onto the remains. And they definitely wouldn’t have actual leads to finding the monster responsible, never mind being able to find the multiple instances of victims’ remains they were now discovering all over Long Peak. “You’re right.”

  “I expect you to do the right thing, then,” Darby said. He got up. “Let’s pour us a drink on that, shall we?”

  Landon laughed and shook his head. “I’m driving.”

  “Ginger ale do ya, then?”

  “Sure.”

  *

  Having the sheriff sitting at table with them felt weird, and Jessie was having a hard time with the mixed feelings she was suffering—anger, on one hand, like it was a violation …an invasion of her privacy—but there was also a strange sense of normalcy, as well. Neither made any sense to her, especially the normalcy. There was nothing normal about the circumstances that brought them all to the present moment. Luckily, her dad dominated the conversation, allowing her to just listen.

  “I have no idea,” Landon Reid answered her dad’s question about the road blocks. “There’s just no way of knowing when the perp will come out. He’s obviously got himself a good hiding spot, though.”

  “If he’s got food and water, he could hole up for a long time,” Oli pointed out.

  “Yeah.”

  Her father’s eyes flashed instantly a deeper shade of blue. “We’re all in danger up here.”

  “Yeah. I know that. It’s why I’ve got every one of my deputies and my reservists on duty. We’re trying to keep everybody as safe as possible.”

  “You have any idea who did this?”

  “Well, as they say, that’s privileged information
.”

  “A cop out.”

  Landon laughed. “Double entendre intended, of course.”

  Her dad nodded curtly. “Of course.”

  “Actually, it is a cop out. I’m legally bound. But, honestly, we haven’t got enough evidence to even begin to narrow down a possible suspect. The guy’s smart.”

  “How do you know it’s a guy?”

  “Don’t for sure. He could be transsexual or a transvestite, I suppose, but, he’s reported to be male and the body type on the video your daughter caught of him suggests so.”

  Oli blew a heavy breath and took a bite of mashed potatoes.

  “That’s why the road blocks,” Landon continued. “We know that the rig he drove in with is still up here.”

  “He could have hiked out and left the vehicle.”

  “Yeah. Doubtful, though. There’d be tracks.”

  “Snow’s melting fast, now. Almost gone on the south face.”

  “It is. But the other reason for my thinking is that he’d probably have been shot. Everybody up here is warned and armed, even Dr. Lorenson’s wife,” Reid said.

  He was speaking of their nearest, practically only, neighbor for miles, and Jessie found Landon’s thinking naïve. Most people weren’t like her father or even her grandfather. Most people were hesitant to kill or even harm another human being, or even an animal—at least the ones she’d grown up with around here.

  “In fact, the only person in the area not armed,” Reid continued, directing a stern glance her way, “is your daughter, Mr. Anderson.”

  Her dad, likewise, directed a glare at her. “I’ll remedy that situation.”

  Then, turning to her, the sheriff laid into her. “Why is it, Ms. Anderson, that you weren’t wearing protection this morning?”

  She focused on her plate, and refused to rise to his challenge.

  “You gonna answer the man, Jessica Marie?” her granddad asked, a certain tinge in his voice telling her he expected an answer.

  “Darby,” Ana-Mari said softly, and, from the corner of her eye, Jessica saw Darby’s hand wave her grandmother off. Jessie was aghast.

  “Jessie?”—Darby, again.

  Anger reared up in her. How dare he! How dare any of them! “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, getting up.

  She took her plate with her, her dogs leaving, too, their movement eerily silent on the hardwood floor.

  *

  Landon sat there completely appalled at himself and Darby—mostly himself. He’d caused this. His mouth had run away with itself. Again.

  “That was completely uncalled for, Darby,” the Anderson matriarch scolded once Jessica disappeared. “I’m the one who had to treat and bandage her after she took a pistol with her on her morning runs. She developed a deep friction wound more than half an inch deep into the muscle. It was badly infected.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Landon heard Darby mutter. The old man had his head dropped and canted away—shame, Landon knew. He prayed the wife wouldn’t push it. The man felt bad enough.

  “You don’t know a lot that goes on around here. And if you ever dare raise a hand to wave me silent again, you’ll be sleeping with your dogs. For good.” With that, the woman rose and also started to leave the room. She stopped, turned back, and said, “And you get to do the dishes tonight. Don’t come to bed until you’re done and the entire kitchen is spick and span.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Landon wanted to crawl under the table. Couldn’t. Tried to figure a way to graciously leave. Couldn’t. Forced himself to pull his eyes off of his plate, but then couldn’t figure out anywhere to put them. Stared at the wall across from him. Then some words came out, again unbidden, his mouth moving for him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, and I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  Darby cleared his throat. Sighed. Then said, “Well, at least we know why she was stupid.”

  “Dad,” Oli Anderson chided.

  “What?!” Darby demanded, turning to face his son. “You think it’s okay that Jessica doesn’t tell us when there’s a problem so we can all put our heads together to find a fix?”

  Oli let out a groan and went for the bowl of mashed potatoes again.

  “You know,” Landon put in. “There’s this new holster they make. It’s flat and padded and easy to wear concealed, yet have quick access.”

  “Yeah. And it hooks to your belt,” Darby snapped. “Jessie wears sweats when she runs.”

  “You didn’t let me finish,” Landon said softly. “They make a soft strap that goes around your middle that anchors it so it doesn’t rub or flop around. I use one when I’m out training. I’ll give you the name and number of the manufacturer.”

  “That might be just the ticket,” Oli said. “More?” he asked, holding out the meat platter in one hand and the bowl of potatoes in the other. Landon grabbed the casserole, instead. “I’ll definitely have more of this.” Then, again his mouth, “And I’ll help with those dishes. I’m as guilty as you are, Darby.”

  “Not hardly, but I’ll take you up on it.”

  “We’ll all pitch in and take our lumps together,” Oli said with a laugh. “Now have some more meat and potatoes, too, Sheriff.”

  “Call me Landon.”

  ***

  34 – Calling the Cavalry

  Jessie was up before daybreak as usual, but she didn’t dress in sweats, she didn’t take her run. When she went out to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee, she found it already done, her dad sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup.

  After feeding her dogs, she went back to the kitchen and got a cup for herself, then sat down at the table across from him.

  “You’re heading up with the dogs, aren’t you,” he said matter-of-factly.

  She nodded.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  She didn’t argue. She actually would be glad for his company.

  He slid a weapon across the table toward her—a small, semi-automatic handgun in a shoulder holster.

  She didn’t object. She slipped it on, her dad getting up and coming around the table to help her adjust it.

  “Extra clips,” he said, handing her another pouch.

  She snapped that to her belt.

  “Phone charged?”

  She nodded.

  “Put this on, too,” he said, handing her a small device she recognized as a powerful GPS locator.

  “You expect trouble?” she asked.

  “Maybe.”

  Jessica frowned. “You really think the killer is going to show back up?”

  “He did, already, is what I know. Don’t want to take any chances.”

  “Right.”

  His voice was a lot deeper than usual. He was in soldier mode. Jessica recognized it—didn’t like it when he got this way. She would have written it off as a ‘man thing’, if she hadn’t seen it happen in women, too. People who’d been in action in the military, male and female, tended to demonstrate exactly this kind of stoic, hard-shelled behavior. They locked down their emotions completely and became war machines. One thing you didn’t do when they were like this—especially with her dad—was call them out on it. You went along, and, often as not, nothing ever happened.

  Jessie took comfort in that—that nothing ever happened. …Except for when it did.

  Memory flashes of that night in Colorado when, out of nowhere and completely unprepared, something had happened. Those memories blinked themselves live in her mind just for a moment.

  “Jessie?”

  She looked up. “Yes, Dad?”

  “You back?”

  She frowned. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

  “Yes, you did. You’ve been sitting there staring into space like a zombie for way too long.”

  “I….” She glanced at the clock, and realized that it was now ten minutes later than she expected it to be. She took a sip of coffee—it was cold. She got up and poured it down the sink, rinsed the cup, and put in on the sideboard. “We need to get going,” s
he said, drying her hands on a paper towel, then methodically throwing it away in the trash can under the sink. And she realized she was moving like an automaton.

  “We do,” her dad said. He handed her some biscuits with cheese, meat, and egg sandwiched inside. “Breakfast to go,” he said. “Get your dogs.”

  *

  5:30 A.M.—just barely daylight. Sunrise wouldn’t come for more than another thirty minutes yet. Most of the time, Reid would be just getting out of the shower and heading for his second cup of coffee. Instead, here he was driving around to the roadblocks to check on the status of his deputies and reservists.

  There had been no sign of the red truck on any of the roads they’d blocked coming off of Long Peak. Had they missed him? Had he somehow gotten off the mountain before they’d gotten the roads closed down? Or was he still up here somewhere?

  Driving to the site, Reid was surprised to see a big Anderson Working Dogs truck parked in what he considered his spot. Pulling in behind the big dually, he pulled on a jacket. It was cold—twenty degrees up here on the mountain this morning.

  Hiking up to each of his deputies and reservists stationed in strategic positions, he handed each a still hot cup of coffee he’d brought up in insulated totes all the way from town. “Relief will be here soon,” he told them. Of course, they already knew that, but it was an excuse to see how each of them was faring—well, he noted. “How long have the Andersons been working?” he asked Deputy Regina Larson.

  “Since it started getting light—about half an hour, I guess,” she answered. “The man whistles military code. It was odd to hear it. He warned me they were coming up. I haven’t heard that since I was an MP stationed in Riyadh.”

  “Yeah. Oli Anderson is ex-Navy SEAL.”

  “Wow. Didn’t know.”

  “Yeah. Not many do, I suspect. I do because Dad mentioned it, plus I did a background check on the whole clan.”

  “How is your dad?” she asked, grinning.

  “Full of himself.”

  She laughed. “That’s nothing new.”

  Heading up toward where the two Andersons were, he noted movement up higher on the mountain—dogs working. “Coffee, anyone?” he called, aware that Oli had been watching him the whole time.