Double Blind (23 page)

As Conner and Carlos poked through the rubble, searching for residual hot spots, Burt stared up into the forest. He seemed to look directly at him. But, he knew he was invisible in the dark shadows beneath the trees.

Finally, Burt, Conner, and Hollis climbed into the Range Rover and headed toward the house. Carlos and Carmelita returned to their home.

He could imagine Burt’s fury. That someone could come onto his property and do this. That his fortress was not as secure as he thought. That despite all his wealth, his influence, he was vulnerable.

He took one last look at the charred remains, then lumbered deeper into the forest.

Dawn had barely lightened the cloudless eastern sky and the air was cool and crisp. Burt stood next to the blackened relic of his stables. The pungent smell of the damp cinders irritated his nose. “Well?” he asked.

“They measure out,” Wade said. Squatting next to the boot prints in the soft dirt, he looked up at Burt. “I agree with you. Looks like Billy’s boots.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Eloy said.

Burt looked at Eloy, but unable to decide which eye to focus on, shifted his gaze down toward the dozen or so prints. He shook his head. “What the hell is that son-of-a-bitch up to?”

Wade stood. “Beats me,” he said. He tugged a cigarette from the pack of Camels in his shirt pocket and lit it.

Burt stepped away from the cloud of smoke. “It doesn't make sense.”

“I’d say he was pissed,” Eloy said.

No shit, Burt wanted to say. “He’s lost his Goddamn mind if you ask me. I want his ass locked up.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Wade said. “But first, let’s go find these boys.”

Conner pulled up in his truck and got out. “Want me to go with you?”

“No,” Burt said. “You and Hollis better stay here. Somebody’s got to protect things while we’re gone.”

“Protect? From what?”

Burt laid a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I doubt he’ll come back, but Niki, Kelly, and Carmelita will be here. Somebody’s got to look after them. Just in case.”

Conner nodded.

“Get a couple of the rifles out of the gun case and load them.”

“You really think that’s necessary?” Conner asked.

“Better to be safe.”

Carlos had saddled horses for them and Carmelita had packed sandwiches and bottles of water into their saddlebags. Burt climbed up on his horse, Allegro. The others mounted up and they headed south, crossing the eastern tip of the valley. Wade and Burt rode 50 yards behind Eloy and Carlos as they crossed the meadow and approached the forested slopes that embraced the valley’s southern edge.

“Just because those boys didn’t come back last night,” Wade said, “it don’t mean anything happened to them.”

“It doesn’t smell that way to me,” Burt said. “Walt and Ted are good hunters. They know horses and they know these mountains. If something wasn’t wrong, why'd only one of the horses come back? Alone.”

“There are a lot of places up here where a man can get himself in a predicament. Ravines, sheer cliffs, a waterfall or two.”

“Yeah. If one of them got hurt, the other would have brought him back. If both of them fell off something, then both horses would have come back. They do that, you know. Follow each other.”

“Maybe one of the horses fell, too.”

Burt lifted his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and reseated it with a tug. “That’s a lot of maybes.”

“Let’s just wait and see what we find,” Wade said.

“What about Billy Bear?” Burt asked.

“What about him?”

“My guys are missing. His boot prints all over my burned down stables. Makes me wonder if the two aren’t related.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe hell. He burned my Goddamn stables down and he killed Varney. Why wouldn’t he do the same to Walt and Ted?”

“We don’t know any of that for sure,” Wade said. “Don’t get all worked up until we find Walt and Ted. Maybe they can shed some light on all this.”

“If they’re alive.”

“Chief,” Eloy shouted. He and Carlos had just entered the fringe of the forest and now, Eloy backed his horse to where they could see him waving, urging them forward.

 Burt and Wade spurred their horses and quickly reached Eloy, who pointed to where Carlos stood near the carcass of a calf. Burt dismounted and walked a circle around the remains. Even in the murky dawn light, the interlocked CG of the Casa Grande brand was readily visible on the calf’s rump, near where a large chunk of flesh had been hacked away.

“Jesus,” Wade said. “What happened?”

“It sure as hell wasn’t a bear,” Burt said.

“Look.” Carlos extended a finger toward a patch of soft dirt. Two distinct sets of hoof tracks led eastward.

“Walt and Ted were through here,” Burt said. “Must have seen this.” He climbed back in the saddle. “Let’s go. Two hundred yard spread. We’ll work our way westward.”

A half hour later Burt stumbled on the body of Ted Smyth. After examining him and assuring himself that Ted was as dead as he appeared, he circled the body, scanning the ground. He found the blood-soaked tree limb, Ted’s rifle, and several boot prints identical to the ones at the stables. He fired a single shot in the air. Ten seconds later he fired a second, and then squatted against a tree trunk and waited for the others to arrive.

Burt looked up as Carlos, then Wade, and finally Eloy came through the trees. Each dismounted and hovered near the body. Burt showed them what he had found.

“Looks like what happened to Mr. Varney,” Eloy said.

Burt eyed Eloy. “What do you mean?”

“His head’s all stove in. Just like Mr. Varney’s.”

Burt looked at Wade. “That right?”

“Yep. Looks the same. Left side. Near the eye and forehead. Killer probably right handed.”

“Like Billy,” Burt said.

“Yep.” Wade tugged out a cigarette and lit it.

Burt walked close to Wade and spoke in a low voice. “Billy’s lost it. Varney, my stables, this. Don’t you think you got enough to bring him in?”

“Sure do.” Wade exhaled a cloud of smoke and looked at Eloy and Carlos. “OK. Here’s the deal. Consider this an arrest order for Billy Bear. I went by his place this morning to have a chat with him about the fire, but he was gone. That means he’s probably up here wandering around or whatever the hell it is he does in these hills. If you see him, you’re to hold him until I get there. Understand?”

The men nodded, but said nothing.

“And if he threatens you or tries to run,” Burt said. “Shoot him.”

Eloy looked from Burt to Wade. “Chief?”

“You heard the man,” Wade said. “If he gives up peaceable, then OK. If not, take him down.”

Eloy bobbed his head in agreement.

Wade continued. “Let’s concentrate on Billy. But, keep an eye out for Walt. We have to assume he’s dead, too.”

Carlos and Eloy rolled Ted’s body up in blanket as best they could. His legs dangled out one end, but his face was covered. They tied the bundle across Carlos’ horse, just behind the saddle.

“Let’s spread out,” Burt said. “See if we can pick up a trail.”

For twenty minutes, they circled and zigzagged around the area, until Eloy shouted. “Got some tracks over here. Look like the same boots.”

Burt and the others gathered around where he pointed. Several distinct boot prints scarred the soft earth.

“Heading that way.” Burt pointed up the slope. “Let’s go.”

Burt led and the others followed. Soon, they exited the trees into a clearing. Above them, a rocky slope rose to the mouth of the Old Watkin’s Mine. A dark form lay near the mine’s entrance. Burt’s pulse quickened. He rose in his saddle, straining to discern what it was.

Then, to the right of the mine, movement among the trees. Billy stepped into the sunlight. He looked down at the form, and then at the four men on horseback.

“Hey,” Burt yelled.

Billy stopped, a startled look on his face. He took a step back toward the trees.

“Don’t move,” Burt shouted as he pulled his rifle from its scabbard and levered a shell into the chamber.

Billy turned and ran toward the thick spruces.

Burt raised the rifle to his shoulder, calmly followed Billy’s retreat, and squeezed the trigger. The roar echoed off the rocks; Billy staggered, fell, scrambled to his feet and disappeared into the trees.

Burt spurred Allegro up the slope, the others right behind him. As they approached the mine, the form became a horse, dead, lying on its side. They continued past, toward where Billy had run.

“I think I nicked him,” Burt said.

“You sure did,” Eloy said, pointing to the rocks where several drops of blood were visible. “And there.” Blood painted the branches of an elderberry bush.

The men fanned out and eased into the forest. They circled the area, explored rocky crevices, scanned the trees above them but found no sign of Billy. After twenty minutes they regrouped.

“That son-of-a-bitch can hide anywhere up here,” Burt said. “Let’s go back and check out the mine. Maybe that’s where he was holed up.”

He whipped Allegro around and returned to the Old Watkin’s Mine.

“Jesus,” Burt said as he jumped from his horse and stood beside the carcass. Two large chunks of flesh had been cut from its shoulder and flank.

“Looks like that calf,” Eloy said, stating the obvious. His head swiveled around, nervously scanning in every direction.

Wade peered into the mine. “Walt? You in there?” he shouted. The darkness seemed to devour his voice. He ducked beneath a cracked and splintered cross beam, which had once supported the entrance, but now seemed to grip the rocks as if fearful of its own collapse.

Burt removed a flashlight from his saddlebag and followed Wade into the mine. Inside the temperature dropped at least twenty degrees. He panned the light across the walls and ceiling. Moisture dampened every surface and water dripping from cracks above them. Ahead, the shaft divided. They followed the right fork, the larger of the two. Soon it too split.

“Which way you think?” Wade asked.

“I don’t have a clue,” Burt said. He swept the circle of light first down one shaft and then the other.

As the light stabbed into the left shaft, Wade grabbed his arm. “What’s that?”

Burt directed the light into the darkness, down along the floor. Several small pools of water were visible. They appeared as dark and black as an oil slick. Except one. A larger pool, near the wall, reflected a hint of maroon back toward them. A few feet beyond lay the body of Walt Packer.

Carlos and Eloy carried Walt’s corpse out into the light, laid him on the rocks, and backed away as if standing too close would cause them a similar harm. Carlos crossed himself while muttering a brief prayer in Spanish.

Burt looked down at the body and released a long slow breath. A gray face, a mouth locked in a grimace, and two dead eyes stared back. The scalp covering the back of his head displayed a jagged wound as if struck by some heavy object.

Burt said, “Any more doubts about who’s behind all this?”

Wade shook his head. “None.”

Wade puffed on a fresh cigarette and watched while Eloy and Carlos rolled Walt’s body into another blanket and strapped it across Eloy’s horse. He then turned toward the carcass of the horse and shook his head. “Don’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?” Burt asked.

“This.” He nodded toward the dead animal. “Why would he do that?

“I don’t know. We can ask him after we find him.”

Wade exhaled heavily. “Won’t be easy.”

“Maybe,” Burt said. “Maybe not. Let’s get Walt and Ted out of here and I’ll call Murph. His dogs will find him.”

Sam had awakened early and slipped on a pair of black Lycra shorts, sports bra, a gray Everlast tee shirt, and her New Balance running shoes. Careful not to awaken Alyss and Shelby, she headed out the front door and across the rolling terrain, eastward, deeper into the valley. She had run easily for the first mile, then kicked up the pace for the next two, before slowing again.

The sun still nestled behind the deep purple mountains and brightly gilded their edges. Its glow bled into the eastern sky, giving it a warm golden hue. The slightest hint of evergreen laced the air.

Her route took her across Billy’s land and near his ranch house. She stopped where the trail crossed the dirt drive that rose from Gold Creek Road and wound up the gentle slope toward the modest weather worn, gray wooden structure. Its single stone chimney emitted no smoke and no lights were on as far as she could tell. Billy’s red pick-up sat in front.

She jogged up the drive. Three sagging wooden steps led to a wide covered porch. A rocker and two pairs of scuffed and tattered boots sat near the front door.

Nailed to the wall, a hand painted sign said: “If I Don’t Answer, I Ain’t Here.”

She rapped on the door. No answer.

She peeked through the front window into a dark and quiet interior. No sign of Billy. She jumped off the porch and circled to the rear of the house where a neat stack of firewood huddled near the rear door. Still no Billy.

She guessed her chat with him would have to wait. Not that she knew what she wanted to talk about anyway. Maybe she needed to reassure herself of Billy’s innocence. Put her remaining uncertainty to rest. Every time her mind tossed around the evidence, a knot wound up in her stomach. It didn’t look good. Then she would picture Billy, go over their conversations, listen to her gut feelings, and would dismiss the evidence as totally circumstantial.

Maybe it was simply that she liked Billy. Wanted to know him better. Wanted to help him. One thing was certain, she wasn’t going to be Wade’s spy.

She knelt, retied a loose shoelace, and then resumed her run. The trail looped across Billy’s land to a three-stranded barbed wire fence that demarcated Burt Eagan’s property. White metal signs with “No Trespassing” stenciled in red hung from the upper strand at regular intervals. As the trail turned down the slope toward Gold Creek Road, she slowed to a walk.

The sun, having completed its climb up the eastern slopes, peeked into the valley, its sudden brightness causing her to shield her eyes. From this vantage point, she could see that Casa Grande dominated the valley. The expansive mansion, perched high on the northeastern slopes, looked over the ranch. Beneath it, in the deepest part of the valley, she could just make out the roof to Burt’s lab. She looked to the west, toward town, and then back to Casa Grande. Burt did own most of the valley and had created a private enclave by positioning his home and lab far from town.