Burnt River (36 page)

Traci covered her mouth.

“I found Sarah at an isolated location along the Flathead River. We suspect Tyler lured her there because he needed a car and cash.” Macy’s voice broke. “I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t listen. I imagine she thought she didn’t have a choice.”

“Tyler just took her car and left her there?”

“It appears so. He had Lana Clark with him.”

Traci sat back in her chair. “You know Sarah fell in love with that asshole after just one date. My mom and I tried to get her to see sense but she wouldn’t listen. Tyler was the one. She was obsessed with him. She didn’t seem to care that he didn’t feel the same way. She was convinced he’d come around.”

“I want to speak to her coworkers. I need to figure out where Sarah has been the last couple of days. Tyler may have taken Lana there.” She paused. “Maybe there was someplace they used to go together?”

Traci stood up and moved toward the door. “I’m pretty sure there was a cabin somewhere, but Tempi will know the details. It was remote. Maybe somewhere northeast of here.”

“Where’s Tempi? I need to speak to her.”

“She was working behind the counter when you came in. I’ll go get her.”

Tempi talked through a wad of Kleenex that she kept pressed to her face like a mask.

“Sarah called me yesterday. She told me not to worry if she wasn’t in touch. She said she needed to get away for a while.”

“What time was this?”

“It must have been around five.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“Nothing specific. She seemed really calm, which was odd considering everything that’s happened. I thought that maybe she was in shock.”

“Did she ever tell you about a cabin she’d go to with Tyler?”

Tempi pulled another tissue from the box on the desk and blew. “There was an old guy that used to come in the diner just to talk to Sarah. Never ate much, but he’d go on and on about his life and how he had this place where he used to take his family. Sarah would refill his coffee cup and listen. He seemed harmless. Just needed the company, I suppose. Anyway, about five years ago an envelope arrives for Sarah. Inside there’s a map and a key. He knew how much she liked hunting. He said she could use his cabin anytime she liked. Weird thing was we never saw him again.”

“Did you get a name?”

“Lou Bartlett.”

“Was he local?”

“I assumed he lived somewhere nearby because he was always coming in. I thought the cabin was kind of isolated, but Sarah loved it up there.”

“You’ve been to see it?”

“Yes, I thought it was better if I went with her that first time. You get all kinds of weird guys coming through town. I wanted to make sure it was okay.”

“Tempi, this is important. You need to tell me exactly where that cabin is.”

*   *   *

Aiden pulled into the truck stop parking lot just as Macy stepped out of the diner. She grabbed her gear from the back of her vehicle and jumped into his. He had an ordinance survey map spread out on the seat between them.

“Lou Bartlett’s property is on the land registry. The coordinates they gave me should put it right about here.” He bent forward and marked a spot on the map.

Macy traced her eyes over the roads leading up to the property. “That matches up with what I’ve been told.”

“Good. Let’s get going.”

She pulled on her seat belt. “Do you think we should call for backup?”

“We already have teams checking those three other properties. Let’s make sure he’s there before calling for support.”

Macy lowered her voice. “How did Dylan take the news?”

“A little too well for my liking. He seems numb. I couldn’t get any reaction out of him.”

“That’s just a front. Does he have any idea where his mother has been the last couple of days?”

“I’m not sure he even knew where he’s been. He really wasn’t up to answering any questions. He’s with Jessie. I’m not sure how much help she’ll be though. The family support officer is on her way.”

Macy slipped on a pair of sunglasses. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about Tyler’s commanding officer and the guys I interviewed from his platoon. Not one of them mentioned Tyler’s mental health evacuation. They only spoke about Tyler in relation to John. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“It’s not surprising. There’s a lot of stigma associated with mental illness.”

“That needs to change.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

As the patrol car sped north on Route 93, Aiden glanced over at the map.

“Can you check? I think the turnoff is only a couple miles further on.”

His phone rang and he put it on speaker. Jessie Dalton’s voice filled the SUV. She sounded out of breath.

“Aiden, Dylan went after Tyler. I couldn’t stop him.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Some cabin his mother uses. He’s going to do something crazy.”

“We’re heading up there now. Hang tight. I’ll call you when I have news.”

Aiden took a sharp turn and headed east toward the Whitefish Range.

“This might be a good time to call for backup.” Macy picked up the police radio and glanced over at Aiden. “This isn’t going to end well.”

Aiden increased his speed. “That’s hardly surprising given how it began.”

26

Dylan’s pickup truck rattled along the gravel track, kicking up so much dust it was difficult to see what was coming up behind. He turned onto a paved road and hit eighty miles an hour on a straightaway heading east. The loose suspension bounced across the solid waves of asphalt. He checked the rearview mirror. Jessie’s hatchback had vanished from sight. To her credit she’d kept up for longer than he thought possible. He should have taken her car keys away before he left the house, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly.

He’d been sorting through his mother’s unopened mail when Aiden had pulled up in his patrol car with Jessie following close behind. Dylan had stepped out onto the front porch to greet them but had been uneasy at the way Jessie walked with her eyes down and her hands thrust deep into her pockets. He’d led them into the sitting room, but had not sat. He’d stood staring out at the gravestones beyond the back fence. His dog had gotten loose and had been running around the cemetery with his nose to the ground, trying to sniff something out. Dylan had slid the door open and called his dog home.

Aiden, I know you aren’t here to keep me company, so let’s just get this over with.

His mother had died in an
instant
. That was the word that Aiden had used.
Instant.
Dylan had fought the desire to laugh. There was nothing instantaneous about his mother’s death. He’d seen that train coming for years.

Aiden had left with a promise to check in on him later, but Jessie had remained where she’d been sitting since she’d slunk into the house. She’d watched Dylan’s every move. The only thing she’d managed to say so far had been
sorry
. He was thankful for her silence.

Normally prone to fidget, he couldn’t do much more than stand in the middle of the kitchen and stare at the walls. For the first time since he’d moved back home he had noticed that they’d changed color. They were blue. He could have sworn they were supposed to be yellow. He didn’t understand. His mother had always hated the color blue.

I knew about the wedding dress,
he’d said.
Mom had it hidden in a cupboard along with a bunch of bridal magazines. I think she’s been planning on marrying Tyler for years.

Do you think he ever asked her?

Maybe. It would explain why she had it with her.

Your poor mother.

He was so manipulative. He’d let her get close then push her away. She came off all tough, but she really didn’t stand a chance. I should have tried harder to stop it.

How were you going to do that? Near as I can tell, there was no talking sense to her.

I could have gone straight to Tyler.
He’d shrugged.
Maybe he would have listened.

And maybe he would have laughed in your face.

I wonder where he is.

I hope he bleeds to death.

That would be too good for him.

Do you think your mother found someplace for them to stay?

Dylan had pulled open the junk drawer where Sarah kept all her spare keys in a cigar tin. The ones to Lou Bartlett’s cabin had been missing. Jessie had come into the kitchen and stood next to him.

You should call Aiden.

Let Aiden figure it out himself.

Jessie had wanted to come but he wouldn’t let her get in his truck. Given all he’d lost, he’d figured he’d earned the right to deal with Tyler on his own. He’d crossed over Route 93 about eight miles north of Wilmington Creek and headed toward the Whitefish Range. The road had started to climb immediately. Now the sun-bleached tarmac slipped by in a rush, and sky and land bled together in a wash of color that fragmented around the edges. The road rose and dipped and the wheels briefly lost their grip. The truck came down hard and a sharp pain kicked up through his leg. He pushed down on the gas pedal and snapped round a corner like a whip. The back end scraped the guardrail, letting out a metallic scream so sharp he thought he saw sparks jump from the steering wheel. He downshifted, picked up speed, and flew across another rise. He was getting close now. He rounded a curve and took in the view. Jagged peaks erupted from the landscape. Below, rocks tumbled down to the lowlands where a stream threaded through the needle of a deep gorge.

For most of the way, the driveway wasn’t visible from the cabin. At the final turn, pine trees ringed a large mass of boulders. After that the land opened up into a high mountain meadow. Dylan didn’t even try to hide his car. He pulled up within sight of the cabin, blocking the drive at the narrowest point. His mother’s pickup truck was parked out front with the driver’s side door hanging open.

“Tyler,” he called. “You in there?”

Dylan stood watching the house. The shutters were closed tight and the front door was shut. Around the side there was some washing hanging out to dry. Stark white sheets fluttered in the breeze. Using his mother’s truck as cover, he made his way to the porch, poking his head inside one of the vehicle’s open windows as he passed. Blood had seeped into the creases of the driver’s seat. It was tacky to the touch. Keeping low, he stepped onto the small porch. A blood trail stopped at the base of the closed door. He moved to one side and banged on the wooden slats with his fist.

“Tyler, it’s Dylan. Open the door.”

Dylan leaned in and listened. The thick outer walls were constructed from the heavy trunks of pine trees. He could hear nothing beyond his own breathing. He tried again.

“Tyler, it’s just me out here. Open the door.”

There was the sharp sound of a metal latch being slid back. The hinges groaned as the door drew open a foot. Lana stared out at him, her hair loose and sticking to her damp forehead. Her eyes were raw, but alert. Tyler stood behind her with one hand gripped tight around her neck. Dylan looked past Lana and addressed Tyler directly.

“If I managed to find you, the cops can’t be far behind.”

“Go home, Dylan.”

The whites of Tyler’s eyes caught what little light there was. They were glazed over and webbed with fine broken veins. Lana was crying. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked. Dylan kept his eyes on Tyler.

“I’m not going anywhere without Lana.”

Tyler twisted Lana’s long hair in his fist and pulled her head back. He rested his right arm on her shoulder and aimed a gun in Dylan’s face.

“How about I just shoot you now?”

Dylan leaned in so the barrel was inches from his forehead.

“Let’s see if you’re man enough to do it while I’m looking right at you.”

“Fuck you, Dylan.”

“What? Did you think I was going to turn around and make it easy for you?”

Tyler tightened his grip on the gun.

“That’s how you managed it with John. How did that make you feel? You’re the one that’s always going on about honor.”

Tyler pressed the gun against Dylan’s forehead. “Shut up.”

Dylan didn’t move. “And now you’ve dragged Lana up here so you can play happy families. This isn’t how it works. You love someone. They love you back. You can’t make that shit up.”

Tyler raised his voice. “Lana, open the door.” He shoved her forward. “I said open the door.”

He kept his gun aimed at Dylan as they stepped out on the porch. Lana wore no shoes and her skin was so flushed she looked feverish. She misjudged the step and nearly toppled over, crying out when Tyler tightened his grip on her hair. He was bare-chested and bleeding heavily from a wound to his stomach. The gauze was soaked through with blood. Dark stains seeped into the waistline of his jeans and spread down his thigh.

Dylan glanced at the bandages wrapped around Tyler’s torso.

“Looks like my mother should have aimed a little higher.”

The sun was high in the sky, casting a harsh light that caught hold of everything. Perspiration was streaming down Tyler’s forehead and chest. He moved with difficulty, his lips twisting into a grimace as he pulled Lana to him. He’d taken hold of her neck again.

Dylan took a few steps back and they followed him farther out into the open.

“Let Lana go so we can talk this through.”

“Dylan, I want you to get in your truck and get the hell out of here.”

“And do what? John and my mom are dead, and you might as well be. I loved you like a brother, Tyler.” He spread his arms. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Sarah’s dead?”

Dylan practically spit. “You don’t have the right to feel bad about my mother. Not after the way you treated her.”

“When I left she was alive. It had nothing to do with me.”

“She jumped in front of a train. It had everything to do with you.”

Tyler had no answer.

“She was wearing a wedding dress. Did you promise to marry her?” He took a step closer so the gun’s barrel was pressed to his chest. “Is that why she had it with her? Were you going to be my daddy?”