Dunston Falls (17 page)

Turning away from the window, Peck grabbed his jacket, gloves and wool hat.

Peck found a quiet bliss in riding a snowmobile through the moonlit woods without purpose or direction. The ride did not involve police work or destination and he took the midnight run just for the sheer enjoyment of the experience. Even the loud roar of the snowmobile engine seemed to fade into the background.

He crossed a frozen stream and slowed to a stop near a thicket of trees. He dismounted, removed his helmet and lit a cigarette. Snow fell gently all around him and all sound was lost to the ear in the cushion of nature. He felt at ease and relaxed for the first time since the storm. Maybe McCoy was right, that the stress was building up to a boil and he needed a night of relaxation.

Three hundred yards to Peck’s immediate left, the man in the ski mask walked through two feet of snow to a snowmobile parked behind a giant, pine tree. He paused for a moment to listen to the stillness around him. Sound traveled extremely well at night and he thought he heard something. He reached for a rifle strapped to the snowmobile in a side holster.

The rifle was a bolt action 7MM with a scope and he threw the bolt to chamber a round, and then raised the rifle to his shoulder. As he peered through the scope, the man in the ski mask scanned the woods and spotted Peck. Seen through the cross hairs, Peck tossed his cigarette into the snow, and then mounted his snowmobile.

Just before Peck started the snowmobile, he hesitated and peered into the surrounding woods as if searching for something.

The man in the ski mask lined up Peck’s face in the cross hairs of the scope. He watched Peck stare into the woods and his finger tightened around the trigger. As the man in the ski mask was about to pull the trigger, Peck’s face suddenly relaxed and he started the snowmobile.

The man in the ski mask watched Peck drive away on his snowmobile, then lowered the rifle. There would be other days.

Peck found himself traveling on a snow-covered dirt road not far from the logging camp. At a clearing on a hill that overlooked the camp, he slowed to a stop and dismounted.

From a saddlebag, Peck removed a thermos and filled the cap with hot coffee. He lit a cigarette and leaned against the snowmobile to enjoy the quiet of the moment. Snow fell lightly around him and the stillness in the woods had a magical affect on his stress-filled mind. As he sipped from the thermos cap, Peck felt the tension melt from his neck and back and shoulders. All at once, he felt at ease.

Off in the distance, something suddenly caught Peck’s eye. Unable to make out what it was, he moved away from the snowmobile and peered through the darkness. There was something, but he couldn’t tell what. He turned the handlebars of the snowmobile, aimed its powerful headlight and clicked it on.

Peck set the thermos cap on the snowmobile seat and stared into the beam of the headlight. Something in the distance caught the light and reflected it back to him.

“What the hell…?” Peck said to himself.

Slowly, Peck started walking away from the snowmobile. After just thirty feet, he stood in two feet of fresh snow. His eyes followed the beam of light from the snowmobile headlight.

Something was out there, but he couldn’t tell what it was from this distance. Walking toward it, there was no way to judge just how far away the something was. He broke into a slow, clumsy jog. After a hundred yards, his legs burned from the effort of trudging through knee-deep snow. He paused to catch his breath, and then continued.

As he got closer, the terrain became a step hill and running through the snow became more and more difficult. He slipped and fell, but bounced back up and continued with ice and snow stuck to his face and jacket.

After six hundred yards, Peck gasped for air. His lungs were on fire and his legs were cramping badly, but he refused to stop. For some unknown reason, he had to see whatever that was in the beam of light.

He fell again and used it as an excuse to catch his breath. As he lay on his stomach, Peck peered into the beam of light and thought his imagination had run wild. Several hundred yards away there appeared to be a wall of brightly gleaming silver.

Peck stood up and started walking. He quickly broke into a run again and forced his body to make the final two hundred yards.

At the top of the hill, Peck came to a sudden stop. Fifteen feet directly in front of him was a twelve-foot high, chain link fence. Was he hallucinating again? He walked, then ran to the fence and grabbed it with gloved hands. It was real. He looked left and then right and the fence extended as far as his eyes could see. It glistened with snow and ice as it reflected the beam of light from his snowmobile.

Peck stepped back, turned around and sat in the snow with his back against the fence. He searched his memory, visualizing the map behind his desk. There were no markings on the map for fence lines that he could remember. Could the paper company have erected the fence to protect its land? No, that didn’t make sense. Protect it from what? There was nothing out there, not even a road.

The questions racing through his mind was what the fence was doing here and who installed it?

He stood up and felt his legs cramp. Another thought popped into his mind, what purpose did it serve?

Peck dismounted his snowmobile on a high ridge, which overlooked the logging camp and looked down upon the main cabin.. The small sleeping cabins were dark and quiet, but light shown in the windows of the main hall. In the moonlight, smoke rose from its chimney and appeared like a bright silver band rising to the clouds. The aroma of the burning wood carried to him on the light, winter breeze.

Peck slowly descended the ridge and stayed in shadows as he entered the camp. There were a half dozen vehicles parked around the main hall, one of which Peck recognized immediately as McCoy’s ambulance.

Bewildered, Peck crept to the side of the main hall and paused at a window to peer inside. He could see well enough, but the thick glass muffled the voices.

Reese and several of his men stood in front of the sofa that faced the fireplace and looked at Linda Boyce. Dressed in pajamas and a white robe, Linda sat on the sofa and appeared to stare into space. Her eyes were glazed over, her breathing sounded labored and nasal as if she had a cold.

Suddenly, McCoy exited the bathroom and walked toward Linda. He reached for the penlight in his shirt pocket and shown it directly into Linda’s eyes.

“Not good,” McCoy said, lowering the penlight.

“What,” Reese said. “Is not good?”

“We’re losing her,” McCoy said, looking at Reese.

“What the hell does that mean?”

McCoy sighed loudly. “I asked for Peck. Where is he?”

Reese glared at McCoy. “You said he would be at home. He was not. My men are looking for him right now.”

McCoy felt Linda’s face, and then rolled up one eyelid to inspect her pupils. “You fucking CIA are all the same.”

“Don’t lay blame on me, doctor,” Reese said. “If you let me place the transmitter under his skin like I wanted to, we’d know exactly where he is at all times.”

“And if he found that transmitter, what then?” McCoy snapped. “Don’t you think he might be just a bit curious as to what a micro transmitting device was doing in his neck?”

Reese bit his tongue and remained silent.

“Have you told Kranston?” McCoy said.

“No need,” Reese reassured McCoy. “We’ll find him before he has a need to know.”

“You better.”

Linda moaned and her head slumped to her chest.

“Take her back to her cabin and have a man stay with her,” McCoy said. “Make sure she stays warm, but if a fever comes on, call me immediately.”

Reese looked at two of his men and they moved to the sofa.

Peck flattened himself against the side of the main hall as McCoy opened the front door and stepped outside.

“You better find him tonight, Mr. CIA,” McCoy said to somebody inside the house, then entered the ambulance.

Peck moved slowly to the front of the main hall and watched as McCoy started the engine and drove away.

Peck was about to step out from the shadows when the door opened again and two men and Linda Boyce exited the main cabin. Linda had an arm draped around each man’s shoulder as if unable to walk on her own. They more dragged her than anything else until they reached a cabin and entered.

Peck turned away, crept to the rear of the main hall and ascended the ridge where he disappeared into darkness. At the top of the ridge, he sat on the snowmobile mulled it all over in his mind, trying to understand what he just witnessed.

A hundred feet from his house, Peck stood behind a tree and stared at his house. He was invisible, cloaked in darkness, but he turned away and cupped his hands to light a cigarette. Even a tiny flame could be seen at a great distance after dark.

He lowered himself to sit with his back to the tree and smoked the cigarette. He was confused about the entire night, the fence, McCoy and Reese at the main hall and especially Linda Boyce. She appeared drugged, maybe sedated. He had no idea what was going on around him, but instinctually, he knew some of the answers lay inside his own house.

Peck tucked the spent cigarette into the snow, then stood up and faced his house. He came out of the shadows and slowly walked to the rear of his house where he peered through the glass window on the rear door.

A shadowed figure sat on the sofa. The figure was motionless as if waiting for something. Peck realized the something was himself. He slowly backed away from the door and worked the situation around in his mind, searching for his next move.

Inside Peck’s house, the lone figure sat on the sofa in the dark and waited. The quiet was suddenly shattered when the deafening roar of a snowmobile sounded from outside the house. As he jumped up from the sofa and ran to the window, there was a loud crash. He reached the window and pulled back the drapes. “Shit,” he yelled as the powerful light of the stalled snowmobile blinded him.

At that moment, Peck kicked in the rear door and aimed his .357 revolver at the shadowed figure. “Don’t you move,” Peck shouted.

The figure, a semi automatic pistol in his right hand, turned around to face Peck.

“Drop the weapon,” Peck shouted.

The figure dropped the pistol and stepped forward out of the shadows.

“Jay?” Peck said in complete shock when he saw the figure was his deputy.

Bender smiled at Peck as he took a step toward Peck. “Hello, Dave.”

“What are you doing in my house?” Peck said.

“I’m waiting, Dave.” Bender said calmly and took another step forward.

“Waiting for what, and don’t you move?” Peck said.

“For you, Dave. I’m waiting for you,” Bender said in his youthful, friendly voice.

Peck squinted at Bender. “Why?”

Bender inched closer to Peck. “Why do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Peck said. “And that’s close enough.”

“Are you going to shoot me?” Bender said, smiling his boyish grin. “Look, another woman’s been attacked. Reese asked me to bring you to the logging camp. He said we need to hurry.”

“What for?”

“I just said another woman’s been attacked. That’s all I know.”

“What’s her name?”

Bender shrugged. “I just said, I don’t know. She’s with Doctor McCoy at the hospital.”

“Really,” Peck said. “That’s funny, because I just left the logging camp where McCoy was busy examining Linda Boyce and shouting orders at Reese like a junior Adolph.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dave,” Bender said. The smile was gone now. “All I know is I’m supposed to wait for you.”

“Well, here I am.” Peck said. “The waiting is over.”

Bender inched forward again, which did not go unnoticed by Peck.

“That’s far enough, Jay,” Peck said.

“Sure, whatever you say, Dave. Look, could you put the gun down. It’s making me nervous.”

“Pretend it isn’t there.”

“It’s pointing right at me,” Bender said, pointing to Peck’s revolver. What if it goes off by mistake?”

“That would be an unfortunate accident.” Peck squinted at Bender’s face. “Are you CIA like Reese?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Reese does,” Peck said “Let’s ask him.”

Bender took a full step toward Peck. Less than six feet separated the two men.

“I told you not to move,” Peck shouted.

Bender paused and smiled at Peck.

“Is something funny?” Peck asked.

In a swift and startling move, Bender performed a perfectly timed, karate sidekick and knocked the gun from Peck’s hand. Startled, Peck didn’t move.

“Now we can talk,” Bender said, posturing greatly as he lowered his leg.

Peck stared at Bender, with a where the hell did that come from expression on his face.

“Why don’t we have a seat on the sofa, Dave,” Bender said.

Without hesitation, Peck charged Bender like a linebacker and attempted to bring him down. Bender moved quickly, caught Peck just under the shoulder and used his own weight to toss Peck on his back to the floor in a perfectly timed Judo move.

“Don’t fight me, Dave,” Bender said and kicked Peck in the ribs. “You can’t win and I’ll just have to fuck you up. Just let me take you in quietly.” The friendly tone was gone from Bender’s voice, replaced by a deeper, more ominous one.

Peck looked up at Bender. “In? In where?”

“Just in, Dave. That’s all you need to know.” Bender reached for his handcuffs. “Now let’s do this quietly.”

As Bender grabbed Peck’s right arm, Peck slammed his body into Bender and they spilled to the floor. Peck landed on top and got off several good blows to Bender’s face before Bender struck Peck in the head with his right foot, knocking Peck sideways to the floor.

Bender jumped to his feet. “I said quietly, you stupid, fucking asshole,” Bender shouted. He wiped blood from his nose onto his pants. “Goddammit.”

Peck attempted to roll over, but Bender kicked him a half dozen times in the ribs. “What part of the word quietly didn’t you understand?” Bender shouted.