Murdered In Conard County

He paused to catch his breath and looked back over his shoulder. Far away, glimpsed through the thick forest, he caught sight of flashing red, blue and white lights. The police were there.

He’d known it wouldn’t be long. That was part of the plan. Once he fired his gun, he had to clear out before the other campers emerged, and not long after them the cops.

Well, he’d accomplished that part of his task. He was well away by the time the campers dared to start coming out. But the little kid’s wails had followed him into the night.

Damn it!

So he’d managed to back out of the place without scuffing up the ground in a way that would mark his trail. No one would be able to follow him. But now he was mostly on rocky terrain and that gave him added invisibility.

The damn duff down there had been hard to clear without leaving a visible trail. It had helped that so many campers had been messing it around this summer, but still, if he’d dragged his foot or... Well, it didn’t matter. He hadn’t.

But then there had been the farther distances. Like where he had kept watch. His movements. Too far out for anyone to notice, of course. He’d made sure of that.

So he’d done everything right. They’d never catch him and the guys would leave him alone. That’s all he wanted.

But he hated himself, too, and wished he’d been made of sterner stuff, the kind that would have gone to the cops rather than knuckle under to threats and the fear that he would be counted an accomplice to acts he hadn’t committed.

Now there was no hope of escape for him or his soul. He’d done it. He’d killed a man. He was one of them, owned by them completely. Sold to the devil because of a threat to his life.

He feared, too, that if they were identified they would succeed in convincing the police that he was the killer in the other cases, that they were just his friends and he was pointing the finger at them to save his own hide.

Yeah, he had no trouble imagining them doing that, and doing it successfully. They’d plotted and planned so well that there was nothing to link them to the murders except him.

At last he made it over the ridge that would hide him from anyone below, not that the campground wasn’t now concealed from view by thick woods.

But even if they decided to look around, they’d never find him now. All he had to do was crawl into the small cave below and await daylight. Then he would have a clear run to his car to get out of the forest.

All carefully planned. He’d be gone before any searcher could get up here.

Damn, he wanted a cigarette. But that had been part of their planning, too. No smoking. The tobacco smell would be distinctive, so they avoided it unless campfires were burning.

Who had come up with that idea?

He couldn’t remember. He was past caring. He slid into the dark embrace of the cave at last, with only a short time before dawn.

Past caring. That was a good place to be. He envied the others. Instead he kept company with the remembered cries of a young boy.

* * *

BLAIRE WISHED SHE could do more. She was the kind of person who always wanted to take action, to be useful, but right now the police were in charge, using skills she didn’t have to look for evidence, so she kept an eye on the little boy in the bed of her ATV and on the scene where some officers were busy questioning other campers and the rest were busy photographing the scene and hunting for evidence. Pacing back and forth between the two locations, she imagined she was creating a rut.

At least Jimmy slept. She hoped he slept right through when they removed his father in a body bag. She hated the thought that such a scene might be stamped in his mind forever.

She knew all about indelible images. She wished sometimes for a version of brain bleach. Just rinse your head in it and the dark, ugly stuff would be washed away.

Nice wish. She was old enough, however, to realize how unrealistic such a wish was. Life was the accumulation of experiences, and you could only hope that you’d learn from all of them, good or bad.

Gus stayed close to the line, attentive as the officers questioned the witnesses. Dropping by from time to time, she heard the same story repeated by everyone. They’d been asleep. Awakened suddenly by the loud, sharp clap. At first they hadn’t even been sure they’d heard it.

Some had sat up, waiting to see if it came again. Others considered rolling over and going back to sleep.

Then came the sound of Jimmy’s crying. Yes, he sounded scared but that might be a reaction to the sudden, loud noise. He was with his father, so he’d be okay.

Only slowly had some come to the realization that perhaps they’d better look outside to see what had happened. By then there was nothing to see, and the night had been silent except for the little boy’s sobbing.

Which again they ignored because he was with his father. Except for Wes.

“I was in Iraq. I’ll never mistake a gunshot for anything else. When the boy kept crying, I knew. I just knew someone had been shot. Maybe suicide, I thought. I was the first one out of my tent. The others took another couple of minutes. Regardless, I’m the one who ran to the emergency phone and called the ranger. No, I didn’t touch a thing.”

Wes paused, looking down, saying quietly, “It was hell listening to that kid and not acting. But his dad might have been okay. My appearance might have just scared the boy more.” His mouth twisted. “They don’t make rules of engagement for this.”

“I hear you,” Gus said. Several deputies who were also vets murmured agreement.

The sheriff spoke. “You did the best thing.”

Except, thought Blaire, she’d moved in, opened the tent, stepped inside and took the boy out. She’d interfered with the scene. Next would be her turn to be grilled.

By the time they came to her, however, they were allowing the others to pack up as long as they were willing to leave contact information with the deputies. The early morning sun cast enough light on the world that details had emerged from the night, giving everything more depth. Making the trees look aged and old and maybe even weary. But that might be her own state of mind. Usually the forest gave her a sense of peace, and the trees offered her a stately temple.

The sheriff, Gage Dalton, and one of his deputies, Cadell Marcus, she thought, joined her just outside the roped area.

“Yes,” she said before they even asked, “I touched the front of the tent. I was wearing gloves. I pulled the zipper down partway, poked my flashlight in and saw the scene. I had to get the little boy out of there.”

Dalton nodded. “Of course you did. So what did you first see as you approached?”

“The zipper was pulled down from the top. I don’t know how familiar you are with camping gear, but these days you can get tents with zippers that open both ways. A top opening allows in air while keeping protection down low from small critters. Anyway, it was open six or seven inches. Then I opened it more.”

She paused, closing her eyes, remembering. “I didn’t think about it at the time, but the inner screen wasn’t closed. Doesn’t necessarily mean anything because we don’t have much of a flying insect problem up here.”

Gage nodded. “Okay.”

Cadell was making notes.

“Anyway, almost as soon as I poked the flashlight in, I saw the victim and I saw his son clinging to him. My only thought at that point was to get the child out of there as fast as I could. I asked Gus to pull the zipper down the rest of the way. I entered, trying not to disturb anything, and picked the boy up. I carried him to my ATV, where he’s sleeping now.”

“Did you notice anything else?”

She shook her head and opened her eyes. “Frankly, once I saw that man’s head, I was aware of nothing else but the little boy. I seem to recall some toys being scattered around, the boy was out of his sleeping bag which, if I remember correctly, was pretty balled up, and that’s it. I was completely focused on removing the child while trying not to step on anything.” She paused. “Oh. I turned so Jimmy wouldn’t be able to see his father.”

Gage surprised her by reaching out to pat her upper arm. “You did the right things. We just needed to know where any contamination might have come from.”

“What about Jimmy?” she asked. Concern for the child, kept on simmer for the last couple of hours, now bubbled up like a pot boiling over.

“Sarah Ironheart has called child services. They’re contacting the mother.” He paused. “Do you think Jimmy trusts you?”

“Insofar as he can. He let me put him in my ATV to sleep.” She smiled without humor. “I think the space blanket did it.”

“Probably. I’m wondering, if I put you and him in the back of my car, we can take him to town to the social worker. His mom should be on the way.”

She hesitated, hating to walk away from what was clearly her job. This campground was her responsibility, and once the cops left...

“Go ahead,” said Gus. “I’ll meet your staff when they arrive in the next hour and explain. I’m sure they can fill in for you.”

The sheriff spoke. “And after the techs are done I’m leaving a couple of deputies up here so the scene won’t be disturbed. You’re covered.”

He gave her a half smile as he said it.

“Yeah, CYA,” she responded. “Okay.” She couldn’t bear the thought of waking Jimmy only to turn him over to a stranger without explanation. The car ride to town would give her plenty of opportunity to reassure him, and maybe by the time they reached Conard City his mom will have arrived.

She looked at Gus. “I promised him a horse ride.”

“We might be able to work in a couple of minutes when we get to your HQ. If that’s okay with Gage.”

“Fine by me. That little boy needs everything good he can get right now.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.