Deadfall (20 page)

“We can, honey.” She pulled him in and started to take his coat.

“No, we can't. Coming here was a mistake.” Mac pulled his coat back on. “It's over. There's no use pretending we can make it work, because we can't. I can't.”

Her mouth formed an O, but no sound came out. Seeming to recover, she said, “Mac, I don't understand.”

“Yes, you do. For the past couple of months we've been playing games . . .”

“I'm not playing games. I've always been honest with you.” She folded her arms, turned away from him, and walked into the living room.

“Well, I haven't been honest with you. I kept making excuses not to go back to see your pastor. Well, the truth is, I have no intention of going back.” Mac licked his lips. “I don't want to get married, Linda. I'm not ready. I thought I was in love with you, but now . . . I . . . I don't know how I feel.”

“You're seeing someone else, aren't you?” She turned an angry gaze on him.

“No . . .”

“It's Dana.” Linda's eyes filled with tears. “I knew something was going on between you that time I went to your place and caught you together.”

“And I explained that Dana came to me for advice. She wants to make detective, and I want to help. She's a friend.” Mac realized that Linda had never really been a friend. Maybe that was the missing element—friendship.

“Don't give me that, Mac. I saw the way you looked at each other. You're right. I haven't been honest—at least not with myself.

I kept clinging to the hope that you loved me, and I refused to believe that you were cheating on me.”

“I never cheated on you.”
At least not in real time—not unless you
count being attracted to other women.
Maybe he really was the sleazeball she seemed to think he was.

“Get out.” Linda closed her eyes and turned away from him again. “Just get out.”

Mac didn't want to leave like that. He hated confrontations with the women in his life. Part of him wanted to apologize to Linda, but he didn't. He'd told her how he felt and was glad he had.

“I never meant to hurt you.” Mac said the words softly as he opened the door and stepped outside, but he wondered if she'd even heard.

17

M
ORNING, SUNSHINE.” Philly greeted Mac as he walked into the detective office at a little after seven, carrying his tie and briefcase. “You sleep in your car last night?”

Russ laughed, retaining his position as Philly's biggest fan.

“I pulled a late one last night.” Mac rubbed his eyes. Actually he'd gotten home reasonably early but had stayed up until two o'clock watching television. It had taken that long to get past the guilt over breaking up with Linda and determining he'd done the right thing. “You guys seen Kevin this morning?” Mac received an alpha page from Kevin earlier, letting him know he didn't need a ride to work after all.

“Yeah,” Philly answered, but he apparently didn't feel led to expand on his answer.

Russ picked up the thread. “He's in a closed-door with the sergeant right now; he's been in there for over a half-hour.”

“Oh yeah, what about?” Mac glanced at Frank's office door.

“I think he's asking for a new partner,” Philly teased.

“Good one.” Russ slapped Mac on the back as he walked past Philly to his cubicle.

“You're a ton of laughs, Philly, and I do mean a ton,” Mac muttered as he entered his cubicle and set his briefcase on the desk.

“Was that a jab at my weight?” Philly followed Mac and stood beside the partition, rubbing his ample belly. “Better come up with some fresh material, newbie. I'm shedding the pounds on that all-protein diet.”

Mac looped his tie around his neck and tucked it under his collar. Philly did look like he had lost weight. “How much have you lost, Phil? You do look like you're slimming down.”

Before Philly had a chance to answer, Russ piped up, “Five more pounds, and he won't have to stop at those truck scales on the highways.”

“You take a look in the mirror lately, SWAT boy?” Philly turned his sights on Russ. “Looks like that belt of yours is loosened a few notches.”

Russ, no longer amused, hooked his thumbs on his belt.

“That's because I'm wearing a belt holster today.”

“And your hairline's receding too.” Philly tried to look concerned as he examined his partner's hair.

“I just got a haircut,” Russ snapped, apparently able to dish it out better than he could take it.

“Don't be so sure. Someday you're not gonna be so young anymore, partner.” Philly laughed, seizing his victory in the contest of insults that he coveted so highly.

With Philly's focus on Russ, Mac took the opportunity to duck into the break room for a cup of coffee. He was more concerned with waking up than bantering with Philly. Not that he'd ever come out on top—especially not in the morning.

Taking his cup of java back to his desk, Mac turned on his computer, listened to his voice messages, and began checking e-mail.

“Get some rest last night?” Kevin entered Mac's cubicle.

“Not really.” Mac took a sip of the hot brew.

“You work late on this case?” Kevin sat on the corner of the desk.

“No. I went over to Linda's after I talked to you.”

Kevin smiled. “I wish I had your energy.”

“What energy? I'm drained. We ended up having a fight and broke up.”

“Hmm. How are you feeling about it?”

“Okay, I guess. I'm not jumping for joy, but I'm not crying over it either.”

“Well, I can't say I'm surprised. I'm just wondering what took you so long.”

Mac pinched his lips together. “I kept thinking I needed to hang in there. Part of me wanted it to work.”

“And now?”

Mac shrugged. “I did the right thing.”

“I think you did, Mac.” Kevin stood up. “So, you still up for a cup and a trip to Wah-kella Falls?”

“You know it. Ready when you are.” Mac grabbed his black leather police notebook from his desk.

“Why are you still carrying that thing?”

“Old habit from patrol. I tried the day planner thing for a while, but it never really took with me.” Mac rubbed the smooth leather cover with his initials stamped on the cover. “Me and this old notebook have spent a lot of years together. I guess it just suits me.”

“Huh,” Kevin nodded. “I can understand that. My wife says the same thing about me.”

Mac chuckled. “Hey, why were you meeting with Sergeant Evans? You in the blue room?”
Blue room
was slang for a disciplinary meeting with a supervisor.

“No, nothing like that. I'll tell you on the way.” Kevin rubbed the back of his neck. “Say, how'd the call to the deputy go last night? Are we going to get our hands on that case jacket today?”

“Yeah. He's adjusting his shift and will meet us out at the falls.

I told him we'd be there around nine unless he heard otherwise.”

“That's a pretty tough turnaround from his late swing shift. I got to thinking after we talked that we could have made it later.”

“Wyatt said it wasn't a problem. He has grand jury anyway, so he said he would be up. Seems like a pretty good guy.” Mac straightened his tie and tossed his notebook in the briefcase. “I also left a message for Chris to meet us up at the falls.”

“Chris?” Kevin frowned.

“Yeah, Chris Ferroli, the game troop who towed the body in for us. I thought he would be handy with his maps and knowledge of the Columbia River and the creeks that flow into it.”

“Oh. Good idea, Mac.”

Mac and Kevin started for the Columbia River Gorge after a quick stop at the Starbucks at SE 122nd and Division. Following the routine they'd established, Mac drove. He rather liked the arrangement, as he'd become accustomed to driving while working as a patrol officer.

“Whew, that's still too hot,” Kevin said, taking a sip of his coffee of the day—an Irish Cream blend.

Mac couldn't help but smile. When he and Kevin had first met, Kevin was a no-nonsense coffee drinker—black and straight up.

Mac had been that way as well, but living in an area with a specialty coffee shop on every corner had broadened his horizons and sense of taste. Mac still liked plain old coffee, but he'd grown accustomed to his raspberry latte, as well. Philly teased him to no end about that.

“So, what's the deal with you and Sarge?” Mac skillfully maneuvered a curve with one hand, holding his coffee steady in the cupholder in the other, glad the snow plows had been out and the roads graveled.

“Right. I almost forgot.” Kevin glanced over at Mac then to the road. “We talked about you, mostly.”

“Me?” Mac kept his gaze on the road and the view of the Columbia River opening up ahead of them, trying not to let on that his heart had picked up speed or that his palms had started sweating.

Kevin laughed. “Relax, Mac. It's a good thing. Has to do with making you lead detective on this case. I told Sarge I thought you were ready and had already asked you.”

“And?” Mac sat up straight in his chair, not knowing what to say.

“He agreed. We both have a lot of confidence in you.”

“I appreciate that, but I'm pretty new out of the chute.”

“I'll be with you every step of the way, but I think it's important you get the call on this one. Philly and I have been around for a while, and we aren't going to be here forever. It's guys like you and Russ who will carry this office over the next ten years.”

“Does Philly know about this?” Mac asked.

Kevin nodded. “I ran it by him before talking to the sergeant.”

“And?” Mac asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“He agreed, Mac. Philly thinks you're top-notch. The work you did on the Tyson case really impressed him—impressed a lot of people.”

“Humph. I didn't do much impressing on the sawmill investigation.”

“True, but we can't win them all. We aren't the first detectives to come up short. Have you taken a look at the list of unsolved murders lately?”

“I know. We're not supposed to beat ourselves up over it, but it still bugs the heck out of me. We've got fingerprints and a partial boot print.”

“Yes, we do, and who knows, maybe we'll end up with a match someday.”

“Maybe we will.” Mac took a long drink of his latte. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Well, I just hope you stay detective and don't get the heat from the brass to promote.”

“Not me, pal. I'm going to stay a working troop till the day I hang it up.” Mac felt a wide grin spread across his face.

“We'll see.” Kevin lifted his coffee cup in a toast. “Right now, we need to focus our efforts on this case. The admin reports and court work will all reflect you as the lead investigator.”

“Thanks, partner. I don't know what to say.”

“Don't say anything. Just buy me coffee for the next couple of weeks, and we'll call it even.”

“We'll never be even. I owe you a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don't go getting all maudlin over it, or I'll have to change my mind.”

Kevin winked and went back to his coffee, his gaze settling on the view.

Mac adjusted the visor, blocking out the blinding sun. It had been cloudy when they left the office, and the forecaster had predicted freezing rain again. Heading east, they'd escaped the clouds and driven straight into blue skies. The locals had a saying about Portland weather: “If you don't like the weather, just wait ten minutes and it will change.”

As Mac drove east on Interstate 84, they passed numerous waterfalls on the scenic cliffs on the south side of the freeway. The north side of the freeway was bordered for hundreds of miles by the massive Columbia River, which separated Oregon from Washington State.

“You ever been to the fish hatchery at Bonneville?” Kevin asked as they approached the giant concrete dam on the river, near the Multnomah and Hood River County line.

“Fish hatchery, no.” Mac glanced over at the dam. “I've been in the dam area, down at the fish viewing area, but never to the hatchery. That fish ladder window sure is something to see, though.”

“Yep. Especially when the chinook and the chad are running. Thousands of fish, all trying to get over the dam. You should visit the hatchery sometime; it's downriver from the dam at Tanner Creek. You take the same exit, just make a left at the fork instead of a right. There are these big ponds of hatchery fish in various stages, but the real attraction is the giant white sturgeon. Some of those guys live to be over a hundred years old. They have a couple of sturgeon in there that are over twelve feet long and forty years old.”

“I read in the dam tour area that the divers who poured the footings for the dam reported sturgeon estimated to be some twenty feet.”

Kevin whistled. “I bet they look a lot bigger when you are nose to nose with one. But twenty feet? Humph.” Kevin set his cup in the holder and stretched. “I've heard there are men buried in the concrete of the dam.”

“No way. I don't remember reading about that on the tour.” Mac raised an eyebrow. “You're kidding, right?”

“Well, it might be a rumor. But it's possible. Not all that unusual for workers to lose their footing. Since there was no way to save them when they fell into the concrete, the workers just kept building the dam on top of them.”

“Sounds pretty far-fetched to me.” Mac took the Wah-kella Falls exit. “Here we are.”

MAC PULLED THE CAR into the large lot and parked close to the base of the falls. As Mac and Kevin exited the vehicle, a Hood River County sheriff 's vehicle pulled in next to them.

“That's Deputy Wyatt,” Mac said.

The deputy stepped out, pulling on a brown ball cap that matched his dark brown uniform. “Hey, Mac.” Sam extended a hand. “Good to see you again.”