Last to Die: A gripping psychological thriller not for the faint hearted (25 page)

C
aleb stopped
and took a long drink from his carry on. He gulped the water down, recapped the plastic bottle and strapped it back to his waist. He cocked his head and listened; he heard nothing but birdsong. He looked at the ground closely, searching out her trail. He found a section of soil that had been disturbed by her tennis shoe and pressed his fingers to it. Only the deepest part held a trace of cooler, damper soil. She was moving much slower now than he had been, exhausted, no doubt, by the incline and the heat. He was gaining on her rapidly.

Caleb climbed on, moving a little faster now that he knew she was slowing. His earlier displeasure was gone. It was good that she had turned out to be a worthy adversary. It had been a long time since one had made him work this hard, and he appreciated that. He wondered if he might tell her how close she had come. Once over the mountain, there were a number of homes scattered about the valley. They were folk like him, mostly, pure country and careful to mind their own and turn an eye. So far this remote area had remained relatively free from the infestation of blow-ins, the city slickers buying up tracts of unyielding land to build sprawling mod-con cabins in a futile attempt to get in touch with their inner woodsman.

Caleb’s lip curled with contempt even thinking about them. Half the mountains he had once roamed freely were destroyed by pop-up towns festooned with antique stores and stores filled with hiking gear and ‘authentic’ rural junk. Turn a road now and you could find Dairy Queens and twee, overpriced restaurants named after long-dead or non-existent ‘Grandmas’, populated by flavourless Yankees, resting their spotless Timberlands on highly polished stools and sipping frothy lattes, waxing lyrical about the great outdoors they were half afraid to venture into lest they lose the signal on their cell phones. It sickened him. 
They
 sickened him.

Caleb stepped over another cluster of rocks and skirted a sheer rock fall covered with lichen and moss. He bent down and picked up a little soil with his fingers, allowing it to crumble between them. He could see she had passed here and had stopped to search for water. The slime-coated rocks would not have offered much by way of comfort, though he was not surprised to find pieces of chewed moss.

He hiked to a section of the next ridge and stopped. Caleb wiped the sweat from his forehead and braced his shoulder against a fir. He searched the mountain above him, moving his eyes left to right, then right to left again. He chewed his inner cheek. If she was up there she had to be hiding, or she had changed direction, but that didn’t seem likely.

He scanned again and on the next sweep detected movement.

Bingo.

He climbed the rocks to get a better view. Yep, there was no doubt, and she was climbing hard. He was impressed by how far she had managed to get. He unhooked his rifle and raised it to his shoulder. He closed one eye and slipped his finger through the guard and rested it against the trigger gently.

He waited, breathing slowly and easily, ignoring the heat and the sweat that ran down his back. She stopped climbing for some reason.

He waited.

From this distance he could probably hit her, but that did not interest him. That would be a waste. But he could certainly have a little fun.

On the slope Jessie began to move again. Caleb fired and watched as his prey froze, and then began climbing with speed towards cover. He grinned, raised the rifle and fired again, this time aiming for the ground above Jessie’s head. Amazingly, she did not stop, and as he watched she made it to the tree line and disappeared from view.

Caleb shook his head. She was brave but she was a fool after all. She was trapped now in that small pocket of cover. Above her was naked rock, below was the scree. There was no place to hide. She had taken her gamble in going up.

And she had lost.

Caleb climbed down from the rock and began the last ascent to collect his prize.

M
ike and Ace
said their goodbyes to Nathaniel and following his directions drove directly towards Little Fork. Not long after leaving, Mike looked over at his brother, his curiosity getting the better of him.

‘How do you know that man?’

Ace glanced in the rear-view mirror and repositioned his cap. ‘His son Nate and me used to be tight.’

‘I never head you talk about no Nate.’

‘Yeah well, you didn’t know him so no point talkin’ about him with you.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘Dead. Probably.’

‘Probably? You don’t know?’

‘No, not for sure.’

‘But how—’

‘Leave it alone, Mike.’

Neither brother spoke much after that, except to consult a road map now and then as they drove deeper and deeper into the countryside.

Little Fork was not much more than a crossroads with some surrounding houses. Ace pulled into a two-pump gas station and filled the truck, yawning and scratching the stubble on his face. Mike got out and looked around.

‘What do you think?’

‘I think I might let you drive for a bit.’

Captain hung his head over the side of the trailer and wagged his tail at Ace’s voice.

‘Let’s go inside and ask.’

The elderly proprietor eyeballed them hard for a long moment upon hearing the name they asked after.

‘Switch?’

‘Yes sir,’ Mike replied.

‘They’re all gone, far as I know.’

The door behind them dinged as another man came into the store. He was young but brawny and walked with the cocky swagger of a man used to getting his way.

‘Howdy, Ed.’

‘Buddy,’ the old man nodded, leaning both hands on the counter. ‘That be all fellas?’

Mike stepped to the side to let the younger man pass, but he stood near them instead, glancing out through the dirty glass of the door towards Ace’s truck.

‘That your dog?’

‘Yep.’

‘What kind is he?’

‘Part Plott, part Catahoula.’

‘Nice-looking animal. How much he go for?’

Ace threw down the money for his smokes and the gas. ‘Where’d they used to be?’ he asked the storeowner. ‘Before they were gone?’

‘Mister, I don’t know how many ways I can tell you the nothing I know.’

Ace looked at him for a long moment.

‘Problem, Ed?’ The younger man said.

‘None that needs be.’

Mike shuffled from one foot to the other. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

Ace tipped his cap with his index finger and pocketed his smokes. Outside, he lit one and wiped the back of his neck with his hand.

‘Now what?’ Mike said.

‘I need to give Captain a drink. Go in the truck, I’ll be but a minute. I need to buy some water.’

‘There’s water in the truck.’

‘It’s warm. I want to get him some cold water.’

Mike glanced back at the store. ‘Ace, come on.’

‘I’ll be but a minute.’

Mike dragged his heels slowly towards the truck. Ace waited for him to reach it before he pitched his cigarette away and re-entered the store.

Minutes ticked by. Mike fidgeted and kept his eyes on the door. He wished there were not so many old signs and stickers on the glass. He thought he could see movement within but could not ascertain who was doing the moving. After what seemed like an age, Ace reappeared and strolled across the forecourt.

He climbed into the truck and slammed the door.

‘Where’s the water?’

‘Huh?’

‘The cold water.’

‘Ah, the freezer was busted, no colder than what we already have.’

The younger man came out and hurried directly to his truck, head straight and his eyes fixed on the ground. He got to his vehicle and left tracks on the forecourt in his haste to get going.

‘Got an address on the Switch family.’

‘Huh?’

‘I was asking about the water when the old man suddenly remembered where the Switch family lived. Aldo’s daughter, Grace, is still there.’

‘He remembered names and all, just like that?’

‘Just like that,’ Ace said. ‘Memory is funny that way.’

For the first time in days Mike laughed.

Half an hour later, they pulled up outside a wooden house surrounded by husks of long-abandoned, rusting machinery. An old Pontiac with a busted tail light sat in the main drive and a chained sandy-coloured dog came out from under the porch and barked at them. The dog was old and stiff-legged; its bark was high and fearful.

‘You sure this is the right place?’

‘This is it.’

They peered through the windscreen and as they did a woman came out onto the porch, carrying an infant on her hip, and stared at them. Mike could not tell if the child was male or female. The woman was probably only in her mid-twenties but she looked worn down. She wore her hair long with thick bangs. She had on a yellow jumper of a type even Mike knew had never been in fashion and a denim skirt buttoned down the front. Despite the heat, her legs disappeared into a pair of tasselled suede boots. Her expression was wary, hostile even, and she remained close to the door as they approached. Mike and Ace stopped before the steps to the porch.

‘Ma’am, my name is Mike Conway. This is my brother, Ace.’

‘I ain’t interested in your names,’ the woman said. Her voice was soft and heavily accented, almost singsong, ‘
ah ain inturrestad n yr naymes
’.

‘Are you Grace Switch?’

‘Why you askin’?’

‘Ma’am, we wanted to ask you about some arrows your daddy had.’

‘My daddy’s dead.’

‘Yes ma’am, we did hear so, but we were hoping you might be able to recollect if he sold them on to anyone? Or if maybe your brother might still have them.’

Mike passed her one of the photos Nathaniel had given them.

Her reaction was immediate. It was as though Mike had thrown a bucket of ice water in her face. Every muscle stiffened for a beat, then softened. She could control her features, Mike thought, but she could not disguise the fear in her eyes.

‘I don’t know nothin’ about him. I don’t know where he’s at so don’t ask me.’

‘Ma’am?’

‘What did I just say?’ She looked around her, ‘I don’t know nothin’ about his business, so don’t ask me.’

Mike walked to the edge of the porch steps. The dog growled at him, putting a bit more energy into his warning than he had his greeting.

‘Please, ma’am. I really need your help.’

‘I don’t 
need
 to be involved in any of his business.’

‘Yes, you do, you need to know my name and you need to know my face. My name is Mike Conway; my wife’s name is Jessie Conway. She’s been missing since Friday.’

He jumped down from the step and went back to the jeep to get the arrow, which he then carried back to the porch. ‘This here was found close to my dog; he was shot.’ He held it out for her to see. She glanced at it and swallowed a number of times rapidly. The skin around her eyes was pinched and white. She actually looked sick with fear.

‘My wife is missing.’

‘I can’t help you.’

‘Can’t or won’t.’

‘Please mister, you need to go.’

‘I don’t understand any of this,’ Mike said, her fear rubbing off on him. ‘If you know something you need to talk to me. What do you mean your brother’s business? Does he have these arrows?’

‘Didn’t you hear me? I can’t help you, I am heartily sorry.’

Ace approached the steps. The dog backed up at his approach. ‘I understand your reluctance to talk to us ma’am, but this is real important.’

‘You don’t understand,’ she said, her head whipping around so fast the child she carried whimpered. ‘I can’t talk to y’all … if he finds out … you need to leave.’

Mike lunged and grabbed her by her free hand. The dog flung itself against the chain, snapping and snarling, practically strangling itself to reach him. The child began to howl in terror.

‘If you know something you need to tell me.’

‘Let go of me.’

‘Mike!’

Ace grabbed him and hauled him back off the step.

‘You know something!’ Mike yelled. ‘I know you know something; I can see it in your face. You know what it is – you tell me what’s happened to my wife! Goddamn you!’

She stood rigid for a moment, white as a sheet. The child was screaming, clinging to her with its face squeezed tight and red. Suddenly she bolted for the door and slammed it shut behind her.

Ace shoved Mike, hard. ‘Get in the truck.’

‘Get the hell off me. It’s all right for you to strong-arm some old coot but I can’t shake the one person who knows where Jessie might be?’

‘Shut the hell up and get in the damn truck. I ain’t asking again.’

Mike glanced once at the door and muttered a curse. He stalked around to the passenger side, got in and slammed the door hard enough to make the half-ton truck shake. Ace removed his cap and wiped the sweat from his head with the back of his arm. He spat, shook his head and walked back onto the porch. He leaned his head against the door and tapped it gently.

‘Ma’am, I don’t know if you can hear me. I want to apologise for my brother scaring you like that. He’s pretty upset about his wife.’ He waited for a beat. ‘I know you’re a good person, I know you’re scared. But Grace, you can, right here, you can help us and in doing so we might be able to help you some. If your brother is connected with Jessie’s disappearance and I catch up to him you best believe he’s not going to be bothering you about it. You understand what I’m telling you?’

Ace stuck a cigarette in his mouth, struck a match against the wood frame and lit it. He stood there for almost a full two minutes before the door opened to a slit.

Her eyes searched his face and her voice when she spoke was soft and resigned. ‘You bein’ straight with me? His wife is gone?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘What you say is real tight?’

‘Tighter than a drum. If he has Jessie then he ain’t got no wiggle room with me.’

She sighed and leaned against the doorframe. Ace could smell the sweat coming from her body; the skin around her hairline was prickled with droplets of moisture. She looked past him to the truck. Ace did not push her. He knew she was struggling with a decision of magnitude.

‘He won’t go easy. You need to understand that. Caleb ain’t going to quit.’

‘Okay.’

‘No, now you need to understand what 
I
 am sayin’ to 
you.
 You think you’re gonna go up there and take him to the law, make him talk. But you don’t know him. You don’t know nuthin’ 
like
 him. He’s not like other folk. He don’t think like folk and he don’t act like them. You need to remember that.’

‘I will, ma’am. I won’t hurt your brother, if I can help it.’

She looked up at him, her eyes widening.

‘Then my God that is the rock you will perish on.’

‘Ma’am?’

‘My brother is like a rabid dog. You can’t reason with him, you can’t figure him out. You get a chance to take him down, mister, you better not waste it, because he won’t.’