Justice Overdue: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (16 page)

“Just the teenagers at the other end of the lake.”

Andy thought a moment. “I dropped by their camp earlier. Doesn’t seem like their work. They’re a bit messy and rowdy but not the type to be killin’ a man.”

“There’s no ID on the body,” Jake said. “I checked already.”

Andy crouched down, lifted the bloodstained shirt, and squinted at the wound. “Appears to be a knife done this,” he said. “Looks like maybe a huntin’ knife to me.” He tugged the shirt back into place and dug around in the pockets.

“I already looked in his pockets.”

“Just checkin’ is all,” Andy replied. “There’s nothin’ there, but you never know, you mighta missed something.” He stood, scratched his head, and looked at Jake. “I think we best get the law in on this. Let them handle it. Not really my specialty. I can track an animal but this is a whole different can of worms. Wouldn’t know where to start.”

“The boys saw a cabin a mile or so from our campsite,” Jake said. “They said it looks like somebody is staying there. Maybe it was him?”

The warden chuckled. “Nah, that’s Otis. Harmless guy. Been there for a couple years already. Gave him a visit a time or two in the past. It weren’t him, I can tell you that much.”

“The police’ll want to check him out anyway,” Jake said.

“Yeah, maybe.” Andy glanced down at the body. “Ain’t nothing we can do fer this fellow. We best leave him right here where he lies and be going.”

Jake followed Andy to his pickup and they climbed in. The warden backed up a few yards, made a cramped three-point turn, and the vehicle bumped ahead.

The warden peered through the windshield, working the vehicle over the rough terrain. “Been thinking,” he said, as he hugged the steering wheel. “That guy back there—the dead guy—he musta seen something he shouldn’t have fer him to get killed like that. Whoever did the killin’ didn’t harm you folks or them kids at the lake.”

“Don’t forget,” Jake said. “He sabotaged our vehicles.”

Andy’s head bobbed up and down. “Yeah, that’s so. That’s so.” He looked at Jake and shrugged. “If it were the same guy. Maybe not.”

“It’s too much of a coincidence. I’m sure it all ties together in one way or another.”

Andy’s head bobbed some more. “Guess you’re right.” He touched the brakes and the vehicle stopped. “You best see ‘bout your family.”

Jake jumped out, eager to get Annie and the boys to safety. “We’ll be right back,” he called, as he crossed the trail behind the vehicle and sprung up the grade.

The engine roared behind him. Jake stopped short and spun around. The pickup had sprinted ahead and gathered speed.

Jake charged down the grade and raced after the vehicle. His shouts went unnoticed as the pickup continued on, Jake losing ground, no chance to catch up. He stopped and watched as the vehicle disappeared from sight.

Andy had left them behind. The half-baked warden was so eager to bring the police, he’d ignored their safety.

Chapter 35

Saturday, 4:59 PM

VARICK LUCAS wasn’t surprised the Lincolns had left their camp. They were now a part of his little game and he had them on the run.

He prowled around their vacated site, enjoyed the ice cold soda left behind in the cooler, and stood staring at the abandoned vehicles. He had no use for either one of them. Eventually he would leave this place, commandeer a car, and find a more comfortable spot to hang out. He was having the time of his life right now, but was getting tired of this god-forsaken wilderness.

Later, he might go and visit those kids camped at the end of the lake, but right now, he wanted to find the Lincolns. He liked to keep tabs on everything—keep control of the situation.

The tent was gone, so it seemed obvious they had plans to set it up again—somewhere they assumed was safe. Not far away. What they didn’t know was, nowhere would be safe. He was going to make sure of that.

It took him but a few minutes to stumble on their hideout, tucked down in a little valley, safe from all prying eyes. All but his, that is.

He lay down on his stomach behind a bush, rested on his elbows, and observed the camp. The tent was set up like he presumed it would be. The kids weren’t around; perhaps they were in the tent, but the two adults were clearly visible, their back to him as they sat on the grass, chatting away as if nothing happened.

The woman looked almost as good fully clothed as she did in her swimming suit. Almost. He saw her profile as she turned to talk to her husband and again he was reminded of his mother. He brushed the thought aside and backed from his hiding place, still considering whether or not to kill the guy.

Maybe later. There was lots of time.

~~*~~

ANNIE STOOD AND looked around the new campsite. “We should be fine here until the police come. I heard Andy’s truck when he came by before, so we should be able to hear the police when they come.”

Jake looked up. “I’m rather concerned about the teenagers camped at the end of the lake.”

“Maybe you should drop over there and warn them,” Annie suggested.

“And leave you here alone? Not a chance.”

“And why not? They have mothers too, and I think it would be irresponsible of us not to do what we can.”

Jake seemed to consider that. Finally, he said, “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. It’ll be awhile before the police come and who knows what could happen by then.”

“You’re sure you’ll be ok while I’m gone?”

“We’ll be fine.”

“Don’t start a fire.”

Annie gave him a disgusted look. “I know better than that.”

“Yeah. Course you do,” Jake said with a crooked grin. He turned and went across the clearing, calling back before he disappeared from sight, “I won’t be long.”

Jake made his way through the trees and exited the forest, landing on the beach two hundred feet short of their old camp. He moved up the grade toward the site carefully. Someone had been there since they left. Things were disturbed. The cooler was tipped over. Perhaps it had only been a bear, looking for treats, but he wasn’t convinced of that and wasn’t taking any chances.

He went back down to the lake and strode along the beach. The pair of tents at the backpackers’ camp stood in the same place as before. As he drew closer, he made out four figures sitting near the tents. Holly and Rosie huddled across from each other, the two guys a little further away, leaning against a tree. One of the boys sported an unkempt mass of red hair, and along with the color-coordinated patch of sparse whiskers on his chin, made him look comical. The other one held his long hair in place with a baseball cap pulled low, and sat with his arms crossed and eyes closed.

Rosie smiled, pointed Jake’s way, and Holly turned and waved, a welcoming look on her face.

“What brings you here?” Rosie said, as Jake approached them.

“Just wanted to check on you,” he said, and nodded at the guys. They looked at him curiously and disregarded his greeting.

“You’re always welcome here, Jake,” Rosie said, and jerked a thumb toward the male companions. “You’re better looking than them lumps of coal.”

Holly gave Rosie a look of disapproval and Jake smiled politely. “I’m not really here on a social visit,” he said, as he crouched down. “I came to warn you there might be someone dangerous lurking about.”

The guy wearing the cap opened his eyes, leaned in, and listened as Jake continued, “We found the body of a man some ways from our camp.”

Holly’s mouth dropped open. Rosie’s eyes widened. Both boys gave their full attention as Jake continued, “It looks like he was murdered.”

“Murdered?” red hair asked.

Jake nodded grimly. “Yes, and recently.”

The boy stood and came closer. “How do you know he was murdered?”

“I’m the one who found the body. He appeared to have been killed by a knife.”

The other boy wandered over and pushed his baseball cap back on his head. “So what makes you think we might be in danger?”

Jake stood and looked curiously at the boy. “Is it worth it to take a chance?”

“Dunno.”

“Why didn’t you go for the cops?” the boy with the cap asked.

“Our vehicle has been sabotaged. It won’t start. The game warden has gone for the police, but in the meantime, I think you should find another place to camp or get out of here entirely.”

Rosie and Holly stood and the four of them huddled around Jake. “I think we should leave,” Holly said.

Red hair frowned. “I don’t think there’s anything much to what this guy says. Why would he want to do anything to us? We didn’t hurt anyone.”

Rosie gave him a slug on the shoulder. “Didn’t you hear what Jake said? A man has been murdered.”

“You guys can do whatever you want. I’m staying.” He waved it off, turned, and went back to his spot by the tree. The other boy followed and sank down beside him.

Jake sighed, frowned at them and shook his head. He turned to Holly. “You can do whatever you want. I’m just warning you.”

Rosie smiled. “Thanks. We’ll try to talk some sense into those guys. I don’t want to go anywhere without them. They might be useless, but there’s safety in numbers and I say we all stick together.”

Holly glanced at the boys, and then at Rosie. “You might be right. I prefer to leave, but I’m not going alone.”

Jake had done what he could. The rest was up to them and he hoped they would make a sensible decision. “I have to get back to my family and wait for the police,” he said. “Just be careful.” He turned to go.

“Thank you, Jake,” Rosie called. “Come back and stay the night some time. You can sleep in my tent.”

As Jake walked away, he could tell by the tone of Holly’s voice she wasn’t too pleased with Rosie’s comments. Under different circumstances, he would’ve enjoyed a good laugh.

Chapter 36

Saturday, 5:15 PM

RCMP SERGEANT LANCE BREWER was sick and tired of getting the runaround. He’d sent a pair of detectives to give Lucas’s cellmate a little visit and they’d turned up empty. Stephan Padre was tightlipped and stubborn.

He realized, if they were going to get anything useful from Padre, he would have to do it himself.

He’d spent most of the afternoon making the long trip back to Haddleburg, and as he pulled into the maximum-security penitentiary three miles dead west of town, he was determined not to leave until he had some information that would nail Lucas.

He pulled through the inner security gate of the ten-acre walled enclosure, flashed his ID for the second time, and was let into the main staff area. His eyes roved over the modern facility, recently built to take the place of an outdated establishment that stood empty a hundred miles away.

The notoriety of this new institution’s predecessor had grown over the years, fueled by many prisoners’ accounts of daily beatings at the hands of wardens, brutal riots, and extended periods in “the box”. In contrast, this prison was the epitome of modern punishment and humane rehabilitation.

They were expecting him, and when he strode into the administrative office of the state-of-the-art facility, the deputy warden had already been apprised of his arrival and welcomed him with an offered handshake, introduced himself, and said, “Welcome, Sergeant. As you know, I’ve interviewed Padre extensively as have your two detectives, and we can get nothing from him.”

Brewer shook his hand, disregarded the youthful and green deputy warden’s statement and got right to it. “I need to see Padre immediately.”

The younger man hesitated. “Don’t you want to talk in my office first? I can show you what we have.”

“You just told me you have nothing, and I’m not here to chat with you. I’m here to talk with Padre and I don’t have time to waste.”

The deputy cocked his head, taken aback by Brewer’s abruptness. He shrugged one shoulder and said, “Very well, then. He’s ready for you.”

“Lead the way.”

Brewer followed the deputy warden through a series of secure gates and they stopped in front of a metal door. “Here we are. Padre is already inside.”

Cell doors clanged around him. A large tempered glass window was the only barrier between him and the common room. Inmates milled about on the other side of the glass, well within his view of them, and their view of him.

Brewer scowled. This was not what he expected. He opened the door and stepped inside, followed by the deputy warden.

The interview room was modern, clean, and roomy, but bare, and not much different from an inmate’s cell. There was a table in the middle of the room, bolted to the floor. Padre sat on the other side of it, on a stainless steel bench, also bolted to the floor. He was handcuffed and securely chained to a ring in the table. Two comfortable chairs, presumably for the investigators, were on the near side.

A camera hung in one corner of the room, facing Padre. Its red light glowed; always ready to capture any important comments from whoever was unfortunate enough to sit on the hard bench. Brewer gave it a cursory glance.

Padre glared at the sergeant, hostile and unmoving.

This was far from the ideal surrounding Brewer wanted in order to conduct a successful interview. He turned to the deputy warden. “This won’t do.”

“This is all we have. This is where we conduct all our interviews.”

“Then I’ll use your office.”

The young man stared at Brewer as if the sergeant had lost his mind. “My office? That’s ridiculous.”

Brewer stepped outside the door and the deputy warden followed him. “What do you mean, my office? I can’t allow that.”

Brewer moved in close. “Deputy, I’m here to get some information from Padre. You failed and I don’t plan to. Do you think he’ll tell the truth when he can hear cell doors slam or know the first thing he’ll face once he leaves the room will be the eyes of other inmates.” Brewer waved his hand impatiently. “I might as well interview him in his cell.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference is …” Brewer raised his voice. “The difference is, I want to get him away from bars and barred prison cells. You can do whatever you want with him when I’m done, but I want your office.”