Last Track, The (19 page)

When criminals tried thwarting investigations by staging the scene, often their attempts at concealing their presence created additional evidence, and betrayed even more about themselves or their crime. Here the perpetrators had done much better. Their sanitizing efforts were nearly perfect.

Now the tracks told another story besides an accident. In essence, a team had combed over an unremarkable patch in the woods, and sliced pieces out of a tree. He doubted it was the same crew who crashed the Humvee the previous night. Maybe it was the bunch who detailed the murder scene. If so, they had learned a great deal since that day. They had improved on their methods.

So much for Lisbeth’s investigation. No point in her bothering now.
And that, he suspected, was probably very much their goal.

The phone rang. Jessica dialing from an unfamiliar number. He felt his head lift at the relief of knowing she was back.

“How are you doing? Are you okay?” Mike asked her. “Thanks for returning my call.”

“All right, I guess,” Jessica said. “The nurse wouldn’t let me check out without calling you first. You made quite an impression on her, apparently.”

“I try,” Mike said, a bit woeful that it had taken yet another crisis to spark a dialogue between them. Bringing them to the same table took extreme measures, it seemed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “I’m sorry I put you in this mess.”

“You mean about Andy being off with, basically, a complete stranger, because you were out doing your thing, instead of vacationing with us like you promised?”

The analysis stung a little, but he figured he deserved the barb. “Listen, I know this is a mess. I screwed up. I shouldn’t have put you two in this position. I should have listened right from the start.”

“Hold on a second,” Jessica said. “Yes, I’m annoyed that you weren’t there for us. It’s a perfectly awful feeling waking up in a hospital and not knowing where your only child is. But that’s not exactly your fault. It’s not like you put me in the hospital. I’m mad because you broke your word.”

Mike hesitated. Of all the people in his world, probably the one he could depend on most was Jessica. Even after the divorce. “Listen, Jessica. There’s something going on out here, and I’m not sure exactly what, but I think you should pack it in and go home. You’re at risk, and Andy may be, too.”

“What’s going on, Mike?”

He knew it would sound crazy to her. He had no choice. She would pry it out of him eventually, and maybe while forming a grudge, so he might as well get to the point. “I think you were drugged at the bonfire.”

“I suspected the same thing. What doesn’t make sense is why.”

He outlined the phone threats, and his theory on the connection between the murder and Sean. He also explained the deal with Partner. “The Partner, or whoever it was, said something would happen to you, to show me I needed to do what they wanted. And it did. Why else would you pass out like that unless you were drugged?”

“But how did they miss it in my blood work?”

“The tests they conducted on you weren’t for chemical agents. They knew you had been drinking, everyone said you were drunk, there was alcohol on your breath, so they likely left it at that. Presumptive diagnosis. Happens a thousand times a day in emergency rooms. We need to figure out who it came from. Do you have any ideas?”

“I’m not sure how this happened,” Jessica said. “It’s not like wild parents were passing joints around and slamming back Whip-Its in the bathroom stalls.”

“Did anyone bring you drinks at the party, maybe? Or did you leave something unattended that you ate or drank later?”

There was a long a pause before she relived the chronology of the previous evening for Mike. “I was doing a lot of serving actually. But three people did bring me beer, and the bottles were already opened. Erich, Cara, the woman from Utah Andy is with now, and Chappy, the chef. Now that I think about it, Chappy brought me a plate of food, too.”

“So maybe the Partner is one of the three. It makes some sense. They all have access to you and Andy.”

“You’re jumping ahead here. Let’s just say I was drugged.” Jessica paused. “By someone. Even if it is one of them, that doesn’t make the person the Partner. My question is, why not hurt me more seriously? This is a pretty low-key attack. Why not kidnap me or Andy if they want real leverage over you?”

“They were sending me a message that they could get to you. And they probably didn’t want to raise any more suspicions than necessary.”

“Exactly,” Jessica said. “And because they’re not in a position to do whatever they want without attracting attention. So I’m going back to the ranch and collecting Andy, but we’re not going anywhere. We have to work through this together.”

His first instinct was to give in to the frustration. He fought back that reaction. Jessica was impervious once she made up her mind. He tried anyway.

“Please,” Mike said. “Can you reconsider for Andy?” He hoped playing to her maternal instinct would work, but was almost certain it would not.

“As much as I dislike this situation,” Jessica said, “you need my help. We need to figure out who murdered the guy in the clearing and how it all links together with Sean. You can’t do that from where you are. You’re going to need information and someone with contacts, and someone who can ask the hardball questions and get away with it. Erin Sykes would lie down in front of a train for you, Mike, but she’s a people pleaser. Everyone likes her. She’s too nice for this.”

In part, Mike saw her logic. Jessica was good at asking the right questions. And Erin—to reframe Jessica’s blunt assessment—had a business to run, and enough distractions and problems already. “I don’t know,” Mike said. “That was part of the warning, too. The Partner mentioned that specifically, in fact. You were to stay out of the search, effective immediately.”

“Oh, no problem. I’ll stay out of the search,” Jessica said. “I want nothing to do with it. That’s your area. My role will be to look into the murder. I already have a rapport with Lisbeth established. I’m just taking it to the next level. The only difference is, I’ll be far more discrete.”

“I don’t know if she can be trusted, Jessica. She might be involved.” The hospital situation and Dagget’s accusations weighed heavy on his mind. He had a concern or two about Dagget, for that matter.

“That’s what I’m talking about, Mike. You’re out there in the middle of nowhere, carrying this weight all by yourself, and you don’t know who to trust. Well, you’re going to need to trust me. Trust that I know what I’m doing, that I’m a big girl, and that I can handle Lisbeth. I’ll decide if she’s honest or not.”

He pondered for a long moment. Again, she was right; he could not do this alone. Again her reasoning swayed him. He had one condition that was non-negotiable. “If this thing breaks down and we both agree that it’s too dangerous, then will you take Andy and not look back?”

“Mike, if it goes that bad, and I feel that there is no other recourse, yeah. I’ll do it. I’ll grab Andy and we’ll go; I promise. We’ll go to the place only you and I know about.”

They said their good-byes, and Mike checked the clock. It was time to catch up with Dagget.

A gun fired a single shot in the distance.

Mike faced back toward the ledge. A figure rushed inside the canopy, scattering debris. Branches snapped and broke. Dagget burst through the trees and onto the road, his face red. He glanced at Mike, hooked left, and kept booking along the tree line. The Marlin, wrapped in the sling, bounced with his long strides.

“I tried to call you . . .” Dagget called backwards, between heaves. “We’ve got trouble.”

07:55:23 AM

Before Dagget could get any farther, Mike slid out of the pack and tackled the officer. Dagget fought back with threats and curses. “Get off of me, damn it! What the hell are you doing?” Dagget said, seething. Mike locked Dagget’s shoulders up and wedged a knee into the officer’s back. Dagget gave up fighting when he realized he was beat. Mike had the advantage of leverage and strength. And most importantly, the tracker had struck first, and caught Dagget by surprise. That edge made the biggest difference.

“You’re not thinking,” Mike said. “If someone is shooting, you stay low until you figure out where it’s coming from. I’m not tearing off after you until I know what the problem is. Now what happened? And take it slow. And breathe.”

“Add another citation to the list. Remember, Mike, everyone gets what they deserve.”

“I have no problem living with that.” Leaning into Dagget a little harder, he said, “Are you going to relax? Can I let you go?”

“Let’s get out of the road, at least,” Dagget said. “Out of the open.”

“Fair enough.” He released Dagget, and they tucked in between the trees. They sat with their backs leaning against the trunks, quiet at first, expecting another shot.

Dagget shuddered. He caught his breath, one eye trained on the ledge a thousand yards away. “I was all set to leave, when two guys appeared on the trail side of the ledge. Both dressed in camouflage. They poked around what was left of the fire, and looked around a bit. They were carrying rifles with scopes. Remington rifles from the shape of them.”

“Sounds like hunters,” Mike said.

“Gee, Davy Crockett! Wonder why I didn’t think of that first? Big problem—it’s not hunting season for a few more weeks. And these boys were not wearing orange vests. Both of which I was about to bring to their attention, when some giant furry blob leaps out along the base of the ledge, running like a beast of hell. This monster was flying. The men split up when they saw it, and ran in different directions. There was no point calling after them. They get what they deserve.”

“A mountain lion?” Mike asked.

“Didn’t stick around to find out for certain. A definite maybe, I’d say. It tore off as fast as it appeared. I didn’t even have a chance to unsling the rifle and rip off a shot. By the time I started thinking about it, it was already too late. When the reality of this all hit me, and I knew they were gone, I took off.”

“No wonder you ran,” Mike said. He might have disagreed with Dagget’s response in part, but could sympathize with the officer.

Mountain lions were incredible runners, and if a man crossed one on the wrong day, in the wrong manner, that meeting might prove that man’s last unlucky break. Defending their considerable territory was a task the big cats took seriously. They were the sort of prey a hunter had to be willing to die for, because mountain lions could kill or maul whole groups of people, even when seriously wounded. These fierce fighters—the most awesome of land-bound carnivores—deserved respect. They had Mike’s, for certain.

“I told you before,” Dagget said, “I even think there’s one around, I’m gone. Any man says he’s not scared of mountain lions is a lying bastard. I kinda like them in theory, and would never hurt one. Don’t particularly think highly of people who do. But I don’t ever want one within a thousand yards of me.”

“I can understand that,” Mike said. “But why did they only fire once?’

“Christ, who knows?” Dagget said. “They probably wet their pants and froze up. Or they were running too hard to squeeze the trigger.”

“That shot wasn’t from a big bore rifle,” Mike said. “It sounded like a handgun. Maybe a .45, or a 9mm. I hope they weren’t trying to bring down a mountain lion with that.”

“You might have noticed, this ain’t California. People carry whatever sidearms they want to carry. It’s all legal here. I know people that hunt with .357s, and they were probably after deer with the rifles. It happens a lot during the fall. Some people are a little too eager for their first buck and want a leg up on the season. They didn’t count on running into a mountain lion.”

To Mike, the account felt a bit on the sketchy side, though parts he could prove true. Of the following, Mike could verify: Dagget was spooked so he abandoned the ledge; a shot was fired; none of them wanted to be caught in the jaws of a mountain lion. Fortunately, the risk of stumbling into one was low. Thus far he had not encountered any tracks or droppings.

He made a note to watch out for the possible signs of a big cat. The time to pay attention was before they stumbled through a den.

“You know what?” Dagget said. “Now that I think about it, I know one of them. One of those guys was the hunter that called in the dead body two days ago. Same guy I picked up at the murder scene.” Dagget shook his head as if the prospect was unthinkable. “Can’t believe Lisbeth didn’t hold him for questioning for at least forty-eight hours.”

“Lisbeth told me he was innocent.”

“Mike, everyone is a little dirty.”

08:10:21 AM

Just before they left for the drop site, Mike had another thought. Since it came from the gut, he trusted in it. Whoever the Partner was, or worked with, they probably knew his exact location. And he bet he knew how: their cell phones. Tracking people the old-school way was possible—lots of people could do what Mike did—but it was far easier with technology, especially in urban environments. Where the option was available, anyway.

As long as his phone stayed powered up, and in range of a tower, the phone doubled as a homing beacon. That was why the Partner demanded that he leave the phone on; it was not just so Mike could be harassed at whim. The Partner needed an active cell signal to “see” Mike. Leery of advertising their detour, he would have to shut it down to avoid detection.

Unfortunately, for a complete blackout, Dagget must follow suit and turn off his phone, too. Mike had no reason which might sway Dagget. He was not ready to voice his predicament outside the circle of trust yet, so he needed a justification, topped with a large dose of duplicity.

“We should go,” Mike said.

“What about the hunters?”

“We can scale the ledge farther down, more west than where we camped. Won’t come anywhere near them, hopefully. You said they scattered, so I don’t expect we’ll see them.”

“I think we would be better off pressing ahead like before,” Dagget said. “It could be even worse crossing elsewhere. It’s your decision, though.”