Last Track, The (23 page)

“Any chance there’s a better place farther down?” Dagget said. “Something less steep.”

Mike checked the GPS and maps for a break in the ledge. Neither tool provided enough granularity for a better estimate. Instincts mattered more than technology at times.

Either follow the ledge north, hope for an opening, or take their chances right here.

Sean had done the climb without a mantle or belay; they would have to do the same.

While free climbing was hazardous, heading north along the ridge meant an indeterminate amount of time. Which path was faster was impossible to predict with the available information. All that Mike knew was that he could not know for certain. Still, he thought it unwise to abandon a trail just because following it meant being uncomfortable.

He had learned to make and live with his choices in tense situations. Trackers considered a variety of angles, decided on the most reasonable one, and took a shot. Any single decision was rarely the deal breaker, because a search ultimately was a collection of many decisions that searchers and their coordinators made. The real enemy was frustration; it made solving problems more difficult.

“You really think Sean climbed here?” Dagget asked.

Mike nodded. “Nearby.”

“We don’t even have brain buckets,” Dagget said, referring to the open-faced helmets climbers wore as a precaution against collisions and head trauma. “No real equipment.”

“Neither did he,” Mike said.

A hundred feet to their right, a compromise waited.

Better than a slender break, a deep crevice stretched to the top of the wall. Shaped like an inverted wedge, the narrowest tip faced downward. At its most slender point, the opening was two feet wide. Near the top, the gap varied between three and four feet. Holds were numerous. Another major plus: the height was more manageable, just over thirty feet.

Mike smiled. “We chimney it.” Out came the nylon rope from the backpack. “I’ll lead.”

“Then you pull me up?” Dagget said.

“No, you pull you up,” Mike said. “The rope is for hauling up the gear. It’s probably not strong enough for your weight.”

“I don’t like this . . .” Dagget huffed.

With the nylon strand tied in figure eights, he hooked a plastic tie through an eyelet in his pants, which held the rope to his clothing. The rest he wadded up in his pocket. Stepping sideways, Mike wedged into the crevice. He pulled his body upward a few feet, then turned to the opening, facing toward Dagget. Alternating his arms and legs, he inched up the crevice. Rocks pressed into his back.

He reached the top of the crevice, and climbed the last few feet with his fingers alone. Lactic acid seared all three heads of his deltoids. Safe on level ground, the rope unwound as it dropped through the air. The nylon whipped Dagget’s face like a cat-tail. “Sorry,” Mike said.

Once Dagget tied up the pack, Mike hauled it up the crevice. He untied the backpack and set it on the flat stones.

By the time Dagget reached for the last handhold, pulling mostly with his biceps, sweat covered his body. From his chest, neck, and back, moisture drizzled out of his pores, and matted the hair on his forearms. A sheen coated his palms, like a light rub of olive oil.

Suddenly Dagget’s right hand lost its grip. His leg drifted back and caught part, though not all, of the toehold. He slid. “Little help here!”

Mike dropped to his stomach, his torso and legs solidly on the right side of the ledge. His hand probed for Dagget’s, almost flailed. Still the officer remained just beyond Mike’s reach. Dagget had a crazed look on his face, half fear, and lots of adrenaline. “Hold on!” Mike said.

Mike rolled over on his bottom, locked his soles behind two rises in the ledge, and braced himself. Tossing the free end of the rope—the other still hooked to his pants—down the ledge, Mike called to Dagget, “When you’ve got a decent grip on it, tug three times and say ‘haul away.’”

Twenty seconds later the rope jerked. Once. Twice. Three times. “Haul away.”

Mike started pulling the rope, and with it, Dagget. Progress came slowly. “Work with me a bit. You still need to climb.”

“I’m trying! These holds are slippery!”

With great effort, Mike yanked Dagget’s hands level with his boots, pulling hand over hand. The tip of Dagget’s head peered over the ledge.

The rope snapped.

11:40:27 AM

Construction of the twin locations had been underway for months and today he christened the new facilities by himself, to great personal satisfaction. Crotty was not this pleased very often.

The layout and dimensions of one processing plant mirrored the other in every regard. Work had even started and finished on the same date at both plants. All the generators and plumbing were in place, the complex ventilation system functioned, the custom-made machinery was calibrated and tested. Little remained besides adding head count. Here the new facilities were far superior in most regards, and required less human involvement. Which meant fewer chances for mishaps and security breaches—by his design.

For maximum secrecy, Crotty drafted the plans himself, and sought experts only where he hit sticking points. After the groundbreaking came a parade of subcontractors, each charged with a small set of deliverables. Builders received designs for their minor task and nothing more. Upon completion, he dismissed the respective contractors. In this way, only Crotty understood the final layout, and kept the intricacies safe from discovery. A play straight from Egyptian pharaohs, only instead of a pyramid with burial crypts, Crotty built the twin props that would transport his new empire to great heights.

To protect the new drug formulation from discovery, manufacturing activities ceased at the main plant. Even though his men had moved most of the raw materials and equipment to the new facilities—the Partner believed the materials were in storage, because Crotty said as much—the original plant had been shuttered. Unfortunately, the closure of the old plant also snuffed out any outlet for finished products, since deliveries meant firing up the distribution system, which might unwittingly compromise the location. Every second that operations idled cost him money, and there was no way to staunch the loss.

But that problem would not matter much longer. The search would end; the sun would shine again.

At the new facility, with the new gear, and at the beckoning of a new era, he smiled. He could almost see his own excitement, an energy that pulsed through his veins, beating like a tribal drum across the Kalahari. The delays and frustration borne of compromise would end. There would be no room, no need at all, for the Partner. Only his will. Soon.

11:41:39 AM

As the rope holding Dagget from sliding into the crevice broke, Mike twisted sideways, leaned forward, and grabbed Dagget’s right hand. Deltoids searing, Mike raised Dagget high enough for the officer to grab hold of the rocks and drag himself clear of the precipice.

“That was close,” Dagget said, heaving. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Mike said. His shoulder pain began when the adrenaline rush subsided.

“Didn’t think I was going to make it,” Dagget said. “It hasn’t really hit me that I’m still here.”

Mike wiped of his hands and took a long drink of water. He rubbed the sore tendon in his shoulder. “Are you hurt?” he asked Dagget.

“A little raw. Mostly confused. I don’t see how the kid made the climb here.”

“It was near here.” Mike straightened up, and caught the rest of his wind. A vista loomed in the distance. “We climbed this spot because I had a hunch there was something I needed to see.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Dagget said, the petulance oozing in his voice.

“Because you needed a reason. The fact that a fourteen-year-old boy managed it was all the convincing you needed.”

“What the hell is up with you?” Dagget said. “This whole morning you’ve been all over the map. First we’re going for the gear pallet, then we’re not. We’re making climbs because you have a hunch, and you’re not telling me why? I have to say, yesterday I didn’t like you very much, but it was because I didn’t know who you were. Now that I have a clearer picture of how you work, these mood swings are scaring me. Do you need a break or something?”

“You’re one to lecture about lying,” Mike said. He started the gradual ascent toward the top. Something beckoned him toward the hill crest.

“Look, I apologized about the syringes. It was childish. I just wanted to see for myself if you really catch what other people miss. Never in a million years would I have left the medicine there. If we find the kid, he’ll need it. And after you showed me what you had, I think we’re going to find him.” Dagget paused. “Somehow I just needed to know that you could deliver.”

“Maybe you’re right. I could have told you the truth,” Mike said. “I’m real short on people to trust right now.”

“That’s why you did it?” Dagget asked. “You don’t trust me? Why not?”

“This isn’t the best time for a heart to heart, is it?” Mike said, hoping a redirect would push the conversation elsewhere. Dagget resisted. Mission thwarted.

“We’ve come a long way,” Dagget said, “and we’ve got a long way to go, but I think we could be more up front with each other. And something is eating you big time. Ever since you heard Shad was dead, you’ve been a mess. I don’t like working with people who are so on edge.”

Dilemma: should he tell Dagget about the phone threats and the Partner, or hold it in longer? The debate raged in Mike’s head. Paranoia and self-preservation said sit tight until Jessica sorted through the trace records. Then they would have proof. Instinct said level with Dagget and gauge his reaction. If Dagget knew more than he was supposed to, it would show in the face. Unless the officer was truly pathological. Mike had not ruled that possibility out yet.

The biggest problem was that in this instance, Mike knew Dagget was right. He
had
been a little sloppy since hearing about Shad’s murder. Mistakes happened, but if he kept pushing based on his emotions, rather than logic, things might worsen dramatically. It was a gamble, but he also figured Dagget had the right to know the truth about Shad. And there was a chance it might align Dagget more closely with the cause. Then again, Dagget might just blame Mike for Shad’s death. In the end, he chose instinct; he told Dagget why Shad had been murdered.

Dagget responded well. “Shad always did the right thing, and that’s how he went out. It’s a shame.” He shook his head. “So Jessica isn’t leaving? A lot of women would bolt for the hills.”

“I’m trying to get her to take off. So far she won’t,” Mike said.

“Yeah,” Dagget said, with a nod. “I would imagine someone like her would stay. She’s tough like my ex-wife. Once that mind is set, say good night. Her way or the highway.”

A reporter’s modus operandi Mike knew intimately.

From the crevice, they hiked a narrow grade several hundred yards up toward the true peak of the hill. Sunlight baked their exposed skin. A breeze brushed their faces, and blasted warm air back down their mouths. They breathed through their noses in quick fits.

The conditions harshened by the step. At the top, there was no cover, no shade, no relief. Only rocks and the stench of dried sweat.

“I’m kind of wondering why Lisbeth is in the dark about this,” Dagget said.

“The Partner said specifically not to tell the cops,” Mike said. “Shad didn’t even know why he was looking into this for me. Without proof of who’s making the threats, there is no upside in going to Lisbeth.”

“While you’re waiting, I could ask a buddy at the ranch to keep an eye out for Jessica and Andy. They can be discrete. She would never know they were watching unless something happened.” Assistance from Dagget was something that Mike did not expect.

“Let me think about it,” Mike said. “I appreciate the offer.”

“It’s almost ironic that you’re getting these phone calls,” Dagget said. He stopped. “I’ve been hiding something, too.”

11:53:51 AM

Mike beat Dagget to the punch. “The Partner threatened you too?” he asked when the officer revealed his secret.

Dagget explained. “At first I thought someone was joking with me. My position with the force is a bit tenuous these days, especially with the missing body, so I figured some prick was yanking my chain. I honestly didn’t believe the calls were anything but cranks. A jerk with a poor grip on reality. World’s filled with them, right? Then when I said I didn’t believe him, he said he would show me he was serious.” Dagget dipped his head for a second. “Then Shad turned up murdered. That was the proof he promised. He said it would appear like a crackhead went wild during a robbery. And that’s exactly what the police report shows. I just regret that I didn’t do more to stop it.”

“Can I ask who Shad was to you?” Mike asked. “Besides a fellow officer.”

“We were buddies. We rode together my first three years on the force. Since my divorce, he’s been my only real friend. I don’t have any family here. He was it. He was a hell of guy. Didn’t deserve this. You’re not alone in feeling guilty about this, Mike. I’ll carry the sound of his mother crying when I told her about his death forever.” He dropped his head briefly, and cleared his throat. He looked very uncomfortable—not really sure where to go next.

“What did the Partner want you to do?” Mike asked.

“The deal was simple. Find the kid, throw up a sign for him, and he would do the rest. If I didn’t, he’d kill my parents.”

The deal rang like a familiar chord for Mike. “Unfortunately, I know exactly what you’re going through.”

“The thing is,” Dagget said. “I got a really bad feeling that if he’s willing to off Shad just for asking questions, what chance do we have even if we do give him what he wants?”

11:58:09 AM

Cars rushed by at seventy-five miles an hour. A few rocketed down the left lane, testing ninety. Fumes from the gas pumps and oil on hot concrete drenched the air. An agent caught and held Crotty’s attention.