by Ed Robinson
“You’ve never really talked about money,” she said. “You just seemed to always have it since we met.”
“Long story,” I said. “I’ll try to condense it for you. I was broke. Like going hungry broke. I barely survived at all until I got a settlement from my wife’s untimely death. I managed to lose the entire fortune and was broke again. I could recover what I’d lost, but I needed cash to go after it. I started running drugs for a kingpin in the Keys. First, it was only bales of weed that I picked up from shrimpers near the Tortugas. Eventually, it became a ton of cocaine picked up in Columbia.”
“Jesus, Breeze,” she said. “I had no idea.”
“It ain’t pretty,” I said. “But I was eventually able to recover the money I’d lost. I had to go to the Dominican to get it though. Bribing judges and paying lawyers ate most of it up anyway.”
“You went broke again?”
“Pretty much,” I told her. “Then I started working for Captain Fred. It became quite lucrative. Money hasn’t been a problem since.”
“But you can’t work for him from here,” she said. “Not that I want you to.”
“We’re sitting on a million dollars,” I said. “The house is paid for. Our bills are few. If we don’t live to be one-hundred we should be fine.”
“Now that’s a retirement plan,” she said. “Die before the money runs out.”
“I’ve never been big on planning.”
“I’ve noticed, trust me,” she said. “But if the cops don’t make a move on this Banner guy, we’ll need to have a plan. You can’t just wing it like you usually do. He’s already killed at least once.”
“For now, I’m hoping the bullet will spur someone to action,” I said. “If we don’t find it we’ll have to seriously regroup.”
“It feels like an impossible long shot,” she said. “If it’s not in a tree, we can’t sweep the whole valley for it.”
“I wish I could tell you that I had a gut feeling we were going to find it,” I said. “I keep trying to summon that feeling, but it hasn’t come. Let’s give it another shot with the metal detector. If we don’t find it tomorrow, we’ll give up looking.”
We got a very early start. The sun wasn’t up yet, but the lower part of the climb was the easiest part to manage in the dark. I carried both the backpack and the detector to allow Brody an easier passage. Each got a bit heavier as we climbed, slowing me down. I decided to stop short of our destination to rest and up our awareness level.
“I can take one of those now,” said Brody.
“I got it,” I said. “I need you to take the lead on listening and looking while I play pack mule. You good with that?”
“Give me a minute to get in the mood,” she said.
“That’s not what you said last night,” I joked.
“Let me settle down,” she said. “Stay quiet.”
We rested and calmed things down. I tuned in to the sounds of the woods. We sat there together in silence and became one with the mountain. After a few minutes, Brody nodded. She was ready. She took the lead and I followed with my burdens. I pulled her up short of the weed farm. I wasn’t sure if she knew we were about to arrive. We communicated silently. I put down my load and she covered me while I checked the opposite slope. There was no sign that anyone had been there. There was no sign that anyone was approaching. We were clear to renew our search.
I pulled the makeshift ladder out of the bushes and dragged it back to the search area. Before we started sweeping the trees, we went back to the rock where I was sure the shooter had fired from. I asked Brody to do her own triangulation. That first day I was positive I’d found the right spot, but now I was wavering. I’d been in the zone that day. My perception of events was hypersensitive. I’d been certain of what I perceived. Brody signaled me to be still and I watched as she tuned into a Zen-like state. She didn’t just look over the scene, she felt its vibrations. She stepped one way, then another, holding her arms out.
“He was here,” she said, pointing at the big rock. “But he may have fired from over here.”
She led me to another rock.
“This one is a better shooting platform,” she said. “He could have crawled unseen to get a better vantage point. That changes our search pattern significantly.”
She held her arm out towards the trees and shifted it back and forth. I stood behind her to see what she saw. We were to the right of the first rock. The angle placed the bullet to the left of our original search area. There were only a few trees blocking the bullet’s path from its inevitable descent into the valley below.
“Let’s get started,” I said. “Shouldn’t take long.”
I dragged the ladder to our new search area. We started with the tree closest to what we’d already searched. I propped up the ladder, Brody went up, and I handed her the metal detector. It was an awkward process but she swept the tree up and down and all around. There was no beep. She came down and we moved the ladder. We got a beep on the third tree. Neither of us could see anything. She continued to sweep until she narrowed the beep down to a specific spot.
“It’s under this elbow here,” she said. “What now?”
“Let’s move the ladder for a better look,” I said.
After repositioning the ladder, I went up for a closer inspection. I found a hole on the underside of a branch right where it joined the main trunk. It was just a hole. I couldn’t prove it was a bullet without doing some digging. I didn’t think we ought to tamper with the evidence, but could we get someone up here to dig it out? If it was DNA we were after, we definitely shouldn’t touch it.
“What do you think?” I asked. “Mark the spot and try to get the cops up here?”
“The FBI would be better,” she said. “But I don’t see how we can enlist them.”
“We leave it where it’s at,” I said. “Try to get the law up here. I’ve got some other ideas in the meantime.”
“Like what?”
“I think it’s time to meet this Banner fellow,” I said. “At least find out some more about him.”
“We’ll go to the Sheriff first,” she said. “You can do your sleuthing afterward.”
I jammed a stick in the ground on the backside of the tree that contained our bullet. It would be easy to find. I struggled with the stupid ladder again until it was hidden away. It had been a long day, but we thought we’d found what we were looking for. I let Brody carry the metal detector on the way back home. Our discovery was a bit anti-climactic. Without the actual bullet, our work wasn’t done, but we needed to preserve the evidence if we hoped to use it to make a case against Banner.
We went to visit the Sheriff first thing in the morning. He acted annoyed to see us.
“It would be easier if you just called,” he said.
“We missed your smiling face,” I said. “But we found the bullet.”
“I told you it wouldn’t make any difference,” he said. “You’re wasting both our time.”
“Brody says that the FBI can extract DNA from a bullet,” I told him. “Not just Banner’s, but Pop’s.”
“It’s shaky science from what I understand,” he countered. “Especially if the DNA is compromised by being lodged in a tree for a week.”
“Let the FBI examine it,” said Brody. “If there’s an iota of Pop’s DNA we’ll know it was the bullet that killed him. Then all you have to do is connect that bullet to Banner.”
“You’ve watched too much CSI,” he said. “I’ve got to have an ironclad reason to call in the Feds. Two newcomers traipsing around the woods isn’t enough.”
His comments didn’t sit well with Brody. I could see it in her eyes. I saw her jaw muscles flexing.
“I know the pertinent statutes well,” she began. “I’m sure I could construe at least one of them to peak the Bureau’s interest here. Hiding or ignoring evidence that may clearly solve a murder is basically obstruction of justice, for starters. Not having the wherewithal to analyze that evidence if you did have it, is
another. As you are aware, I still have some personal contact with the FBI.”
“It was my impression that your relationship was not a pleasant one,” he said. “And Mr. Breeze here has been on their wanted list more than once. You’ve got no standing to tell me how to run my department. Neither does the FBI.”
“We’re trying to help you,” I said. “We brought you pictures of the guy. We got the Banner Elk PD to identify him. We’re pretty sure we’ve located the bullet. What’s it going to take to get you to act?”
“You’re not going to get me or my men to crawl around in the bush on some godforsaken mountain looking for a stray bullet from any number of hunters,” he said. “It’s a fool’s errand.”
“What about the weed?” asked Brody.
“Nobody cares about some weed plants in the wilderness,” he said. “Not worth our time.”
“You leave us no choice then,” said Brody. “We’ll call the FBI ourselves.”
“You won’t get the time of day,” he said. “Now get out of my office.”
We’d accomplished nothing. I wasn’t sure what to do next. We both fumed over the situation on the ride home. I was used to the cops being very interested in every little move I made. It was my experience that law enforcement was more than happy to participate in the actual enforcement of any law, no matter how small. The little guy always got screwed that way. Oh, you’ve got a little weed on you? Off to jail. Couldn’t afford the bail money? Enjoy your stay in the clink. What we’d encountered here just didn’t make sense. A rural Sheriff should be all over a murder case. Other than the low social status of the deceased, I couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t.
Who was Cody Banner? Why did he have immunity? There had to be some reason that this case wasn’t being pursued. I needed to learn more about him. I needed more information. I told Brody to open a line of communication with her ex-lover, Bowdich. I’d figure out a way to get a line on Banner.
“We’ve still got that encrypted SAT phone,” she said. “Time to dust it off.”
“Good idea,” I said. “I’d forgotten all about it.”
After charging the thing up, Brody started trying to reach Bowdich. He didn’t answer. She texted him to let him know that the strange number was her. He immediately called back. I went outside and let them talk. I took the rifle with me. I crouched behind the stump and sighted in the target we’d left on the hill behind the cabin. My first shot was dead center. The noise rang in my ears for a few seconds, triggering something. I sat and listened to the mountain. I smelled the gunpowder wafting around my face. I imagined that I could sense a man high up on the mountain, checking on the pot plants. I re-established my aim on the target. My second shot was as perfect as the first. I’m coming for you, Banner.
Eleven
Brody came outside without the phone. She looked annoyed that I’d fired the rifle while she was talking. Maybe it was a subconscious protest against her speaking with an ex-lover. I didn’t feel threatened by him, though. I knew what Brody and I had together. Hell, she’d talked intimately with Holly, one of my exes.
“Drug-related murders are often prosecuted under federal laws,” she said. “Our only other option is if our guy committed or commits another murder in a different state.”
“Sure seems drug related to me,” I said. “Banner killed Pop over a drug crop.”
“No witness, no bullet, no weapon,” she said. “David almost sounded as bad as the Sheriff.”
“They don’t know that Pop first owned the weed,” I said. “But I do. Now we have the guy tending to the crop.”
“As far as D.C. is concerned, it’s just some yokel growing weed out in the boonies,” she said. “They can’t see how this is a drug murder.”
“Then I need to talk to Bowdich,” I said. “Start at the beginning and tell him the whole truth.”
“Hearsay,” she said. “You didn’t witness the killing.”
“If nobody cares about the weed, then no one should care that I was up there and aware of it,” I said. “I should be free to tell my story.”
“Seems like no one cares about the killing either,” she said. “We’re at a dead-end here, Breeze.”
I had been too close to it. To me, it was obvious what happened up there. I cared about bringing Banner to justice. It was less obvious to everyone else, and they simply didn’t care like I did. I could not, however, simply go shoot Banner myself. I couldn’t let myself take killing so lightly. It would change me forever. If Banner had to walk in order for me to preserve my sanity, so be it, but I would try everything I could think of to make sure he didn’t get away with it.
I just didn’t know how yet.
I took a few days to think about my next course of action. I split wood with vigor, releasing some of my frustrations. We hiked to a few waterfalls that were nearby. We ate well and slept well. We made love like it mattered. We enjoyed our new cabin life, but unfinished business irked us both. After a week, I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to do something.
Downtown Banner Elk had no serious drinking establishments. It had fine restaurants. Some even had bars. I needed a place where a man stopped for a few beers on his way home from work. I drove around looking for a bar. I settled on the Flat Top Brewing Company just outside of town. I took a seat and was handed a beer menu. It wasn’t a blue collar kind of place. It was a craft brewery. I ordered a Wunderbier and took a look around. It was a younger crowd, wearing nicer clothes. There wasn’t a pair of work boots in the place. I wouldn’t find Banner here, or even someone who might know him.
“Cody Banner ever stop in here?” I asked the bartender.
“Couldn’t tell you,” he said. “If he did he didn’t tell me his name.”
“You don’t know a Cody Banner?”
“Can’t say that I do.”
I left him a buck tip for the eight dollar beer and left. I drove back to Pigeon Roost Road and stopped at the tracks leading uphill to the hunting camp. I parked off the edge of the road and walked towards the cabin. I didn’t sneak up there. I walked normally and made some noise as I went. I didn’t need a drunk hunter taking a shot at me. I found the cabin deserted. I kicked around the yard for a minute like I expected someone to show. No one did. I retreated back down the hill and went home to Brody.
“How’d it go?” she asked.
“Zilch, nada, nope,” I answered. “I need to find a real bar where a man like him would stop. A place where folks know him. I just don’t see it downtown.”
“We don’t know much about the town,” she said. “Let’s take a day and get a closer look. It’ll be fun.”
The next day we parked off the street in what served as the town’s free parking area. We walked a few blocks and poked our head inside each restaurant. Barra’s Sports Bar had a bunch of TV’s hanging on the wall and was worth a try. None of the other spots looked to be a likely hangout for Banner. We drove beyond the town limits and found Nick’s Pub. It was worth looking into as well. We made our way back through town and turned left on 194 instead of going back home. We found ourselves in Elk Park. There was a small country kitchen but no bar. Next, we hit Roan Mountain, first stop across the Tennessee line.
We found a place called The Station and went inside. It looked like a good old-fashioned bar but sold a strange combination of crafty IPA’s and hot dogs. It was busy. The clientele looked like hikers mostly. We listened to hiker talk and got a feel for the place. I didn’t picture Banner hanging out here but asked the bartender anyway.
“Do you know a guy named Cody Banner?”
“He’s been in a few times,” he said. “Lives nearby.”
“No kidding,” I said. “I believe he has a hunting property near my place.”
“He’s a big hunter,” he said. “Always out in the woods come season.”
“You say he lives around here?”
“Head west and make the first left,” he instructed. “Single-wide on the right with a rusty pickup in the drive. That’s hi
m.”
“Thanks, man.”
I slid him a ten spot and got up to leave. Brody and I didn’t talk until we got in the car.
“He lives in Tennessee,” I said. “He crossed state lines to commit a murder.”
“If he killed someone in Tennessee we’ve got something,” she said.
“Shall we pay him a visit then?”
“I think we should be armed when we do that,” she said. “Just saying.”
“You’re probably right,” I said. “Who knows how he’ll react.”
“We don’t have carry permits here,” she pointed out.
“I don’t suppose he’ll call the cops on us.”
We decided to go on home and come back better prepared. Brody went over our handguns that night, checking and cleaning even though they hadn’t been fired. I wondered why Banner had a hunting camp in North Carolina when he lived in some great looking wilderness area in Tennessee. A few minutes with a map told me why. His mountain was one gigantic state park. It was obviously popular with hikers and therefore hunting was off-limits.
If I didn’t catch him at his trailer, I’d certainly find him at the hunting camp once the season opened, if not before. He’d be out scouting and building tree stands in advance, probably baiting as well. As a neighboring property owner, it would be natural for me to introduce myself. I’d be concerned about him hunting on my property and so forth. I’d get a feel for the man, look him in the eye.
We drove back to Roan Mountain, made the first left past The Station and looked for a single-wide on the right. The bartender had specifically said rusty pickup. He didn’t say Ford, Chevy, or Dodge. Everybody in eastern Tennessee drove a pickup, as opposed to Banner Elk where it seemed everyone drove a Subaru. We saw no rusty pickup at any of the half-dozen trailers along that road.
On the way back we stopped again down below the hunting cabin. I took Brody up what passed for a driveway and showed her the place. I explained its proximity to the weed farm higher up the hill. It still looked as if no one had been there for a while.
“Talk about roughing it,” she said. “What a dump.”