Last Track, The (32 page)

A compartment the size of a large breadbox stowed four cans of pork and beans and a can of mixed vegetables in the wall, all sheathed in a wad of dark plastic. The freshness date on the canned goods showed that they had expired last month.

“Oh sweet Jesus, tell me we have a can opener,” Dagget said.

“Those boots of yours are real close to the fire,” said Mike.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dagget dismissed the observation as if it were the ludicrous raving of a village drunk. “So we got a can opener?”

“Not exactly.”

After Dagget’s face collapsed, Mike opened an ice pick-styled blade from his multipurpose knife. To kill bacteria, he held the blade to the fire until the steel glowed red. Then he jabbed dozens of perforations into the lid, and around the lip of one of the cans. Stabbing downward, with each plunge a new perforation nearly overlapped the edges of the previous. Can by can, he sawed off the lids. Then he lined them around the ring to cook in the warmth of the fire.

After dinner, Dagget appeared more relaxed. “That was the best-tasting canned food ever.”

Mike warmed his hands by the fire.

“I never thought we’d be out here so long,” Dagget said.

“It’s been a trek.” Fires drew conversations out of people. Mike suspected Dagget had more to say.

“It’s a good thing, is what I mean.” Suddenly Dagget changed gears midstream. “My wife and I used to sit around our fireplace like this.” He sighed. “Before the divorce.”

“How long has it been?”

“A couple of months.” Dagget dipped his head for a second, apparently still ashamed of his predicament.

“Same for me,” said Mike. “In a year, we’ll compare notes.”

“You and Jessica seem very cordial,” Dagget said wistfully.

“Looks are deceiving. A lot of people thought we had a great marriage. We even believed we did. It looked good on the outside.”

“Well, you managed a trip together,” said Dagget. “I’d be happy if my ex stopped hanging up on me in the middle of a phone call.”

“Sorry to hear that. I know how hard a breakup can be.” During the legal proceedings, a physician had warned Mike that a divorce stressed the body as seriously as a cardiac arrest. Mike believed it.

“Did yours run off with another woman?” Dagget said. “Think I got you beat there.”

“Was it a surprise,” Mike said, “or were there warnings?”

“I knew it was coming,” said Dagget, “but didn’t want to admit it. We had problems. She was unhappy. When Rita told me about Sheryl, though, here’s the messed up thing: I forgave her. I blamed myself. Worked too many hours, too many days in a row. Sooner or later, people look elsewhere for what they’re missing.”

“Healing takes time,” Mike said. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

“I’ll get there eventually,” Dagget said. “It’s just messy. Rita’s dad is the Chief of Police. He’s one hundred percent in her corner, which I understand. She’s his daughter, why wouldn’t he be? The sticky thing is he’s important in the community, and he and I have butted heads since the breakup. It was like someone threw a switch. One day we were hunting buddies, the next minute I was a stranger. What I can’t understand is why he blames me for her being gay. Like I had any control over her sexuality. Hell, like I had any control over her at all. She’s a woman. She does what she wants.”

“What makes you say that the Chief has it in for you?”

Dagget almost convulsed when he responded, excited, and a bit enraged. “Because somehow everyone on the force knows the intimate details of my busted marriage. I’m not talking public knowledge like her sexual identity. I mean intimate stuff. Tons of it. Details you never discussed with your closest friends, because only one other person knew. And they weren’t hearing these things from me, because I kept my home situation as quiet as I could.

“Just walking past my colleagues is a land-mine dodge. It’s like this ugly, open secret, only worse because this one people gab about around every corner. The next cheap shot is only as far away as the water cooler or the locker room. I don’t bother to ask who heard what anymore. They’ve heard everything.

“Believe it or not, once I had a stellar reputation. I was a model cop. I exceeded my quotas, and earned yearly citations for excellence. I was on the detective track. I aced the exam. Virtually a done deal. Then this business with Rita happened. Suddenly, I get passed over, not once, but twice, and officers less qualified and younger got promoted instead. The first time, I sucked it up. But when it happened again, I took it personally. Before I drew good assignments, ones that might lead somewhere. Now I get drafted into cleanup work and Hail Marys.”

“What about Lisbeth? Does she side with the Chief?”

“I can’t be certain, but the information and directives are coming from somewhere. And the missing body is another black mark to hold against me. At this rate, I’ll be lucky to have a job next week.”

“A man against the ropes,” said Mike, with conviction, “is a man who has a chance for a comeback. When the real test of courage comes, I think you’ll surprise yourself.”

“I just want a chance to prove I deserve a chance,” Dagget said.

“Opportunities are everywhere,” Mike said. “You just have to let yourself see them.”

After much consideration, Dagget said, “I never thought about it like that. The new girlfriend is good, at least. I’ve got high hopes for that situation.”

“Things will get better when you’re ready for them to,” Mike said. “You’ll get your shot.”

08:34:51 PM

At the cave’s entrance, Mike phoned Jessica. Dialing, he sat cross-legged as water pounded the terrain. Drops beaded on his knees, and seeped into the fabric quickly. Because of the rocks and weather, the call took three tries to connect.

“You were right.” Her voice came plaintively through the sounds of the storm. “It looks like Erich was the Partner. Lisbeth just arrested him with everyone looking on.”

“That had to be a scene.”

“Yeah. And you were right about something else. I guess he was more interested than I wanted to admit. Erich made a pass at me.”

“And then what happened?” It was as close as Mike could get to asking her if she had returned Erich’s advances. He stared at his bare third finger, where the titanium band had once been. These days, the ring sat in a drawer fifteen hundred miles away, wrapped with tissue paper, arranged inside a tiny box with a clasp. If Jessica even had her ring still, he wondered where she kept it.

“Two officers tossed him in the back of a patrol car,” Jessica said. “Erich is being charged with murder and conspiracy to commit murder.”

“How did he look?” Mike said.

“Shocked.”

“I could be wrong,” Mike said, incisive, “but I doubt Erich murdered anyone.”

“Make up your mind! An hour ago you were certain he was the Partner.” She sounded exasperated by his dissent.

“He might be the Partner.” Mike spoke this slowly, conceding the point with much reluctance. “I’m just saying I don’t think the Partner is a killer. The name implies there’s a cohort. Or a few cohorts. And when I pressed the Partner about wanting to talk to the real boss, whoever they are got very agitated that I suggested they weren’t calling the shots.”

“Did you ever consider that the two might be one and the same?” Jessica said. “Perfectly normal-looking people can create double lives, and invent personalities to compensate for their weaknesses and cover up their neuroses.”

“That’s a pretty rare condition. And this isn’t
Fight Club.
” The reference he meant as a compliment. He loved Chuck Palahniuk’s work; he just took issue with her applying the split-personality theory to Erich.

“Since Erich was arrested, you haven’t gotten any calls lately, have you?”

“Silence does not equal guilt,” Mike said.

A slap. The sound of fumbling. “Wait a second . . .” Jessica set down the phone. “Sorry, I just dropped a bottle of water I was about to open. Gross. There’s some kind of soapy film in the top.”

Mike had a few ideas about what might cause clear liquid to turn soapy when shaken. One popular date rape drug reacted that way. It might be many things, though most likely it indicated the presence of a chemical besides water. “Where did that come from? I don’t remember buying water on the way,” he asked.

“Erich. I can’t believe he tried to get me again! I’m shipping two of these bottles out in the morning. One’s going to Lisbeth. The other’s going to a friend in the DEA. If this is what it looks like, he’s going down even harder.”

After that, Jessica put Andy on for a few moments. Mike wished his son a good night, told him he would do his best to get home soon, and excused himself before the emotion took over his voice.

Then he tried Lisbeth one last time, finally getting through.

“It seemed like the helicopters stopped flybys well in advance of the storm,” Mike said.

“This weather,” Lisbeth explained, “is causing enormous problems. Basically, the search is on hiatus. I can’t send people out in this. I do have some good news about Sean, though.”

“That’s just why I called,” Mike said. “I really think we’re in striking range.”

Lisbeth took a deep breath. “About that, Mike, there have been some complications on your front besides the storm. Once again, all the coordinates you provided me bombed out. I had them double-checked, by two separate teams. Nothing turned up. Not a single scrap of what you described.”

The ski-mask crew after us is keeping busy, apparently.
“What about the skeletons?”

“Couldn’t check yet,” Lisbeth said. “Honestly, we may not have the means until the search ends.”

“I understand.” Though he disliked it, he understood how it appeared to an investigator when evidence promised never materialized.

“Do you?” She paused. “I’m not certain where I stand on the discussion right now myself. We gave tracking the college try. A couple hours ago a tip from a reliable source came in about Sean’s location. A very specific one. Problem is, it’s miles and miles from where you and Dagget are. Or say you are.”

“I hope they’re right, but I’m staying with the search.”

“Sean’s been out in the wild for three days now, Mike, and we’ve only gotten, at best, partial confirmation of your work. I think the odds of you finding something are so unlikely where you are that the best move for you guys is to pack it in. Tomorrow a copter will pick you up. Call me first, give me your best shot at your present location, then fire off a flare.”

Mike said, “I’d rather keep on until Sean is found.”

“I can’t stop you,” Lisbeth said. “But I think more of the same is a waste of our time.”

“Can you assign an officer to check on Jessica until I get back?”

“I will see about doing that. But Erich isn’t threatening anyone now or anytime soon. And with the evidence on file, he’s not making bail. So don’t sweat it. Why didn’t you tell me about these threats in the first place? I would have looked into the matter.”

“They said not to,” Mike said.
And I thought it was you making them,
he thought.

“I guess if I was in a strange town and didn’t know who to trust, I might keep something like that quiet, too. I never doubted your ability to get things done, by the way. I still don’t. It just seems like your bearings are off on this one. Maybe it’s the terrain, or the weather, or the distractions. There’s no gain without some risk, but I’d take a chance with you again. Tonight I’m just taking a little off the table.”

The few words of praise softening her no-confidence vote echoed in his ears. Cold comfort for a man who wanted only to help. Enough, he decided. Enough doubts, enough fear and loathing. Second guessing had to wait. Before descending an even darker chasm, he hung up.

Mike walked the tunnel back to the chamber.

Tufts of black smoke oozed from the entrance. An acrid scent trailed the dark mist.

08:45:43 PM

Mike called out for Dagget. He crouched at the chamber entrance below the fumes. A raspy, unsteady cough echoed through the haze. The smoke cut visibility, forcing Mike to inch forward, cautious, hollering for signs of life from Dagget. Mike was a quarter of the way inside the chamber before spotting the problem.

Standing next to the fire pit, Dagget lashed at the ground with a blanket. His boots lay sideways on the rocks. A short flame crawled up the boot shaft. He stamped out the flame, leaving behind the awful stench of burnt rubber.

“Never saw that coming,” said Mike, not couching his sarcasm.

“Whatever.” Smoke and embarrassment turned Dagget’s face red. Otherwise, he looked fine.

The flames extinguished, a draft expelled the gray cloud. Luckily, the veil of smoke dissipated quickly. But the smell of singed rubber lingered, potent as if the boots still burned. With the blanket Mike scooped up the boots. They were in a sorry state.

Of the two, the right bore the real beating. In poor condition, the boot was almost useless because of tread damage. Extreme temperatures had melted the knobby grooves into a smooth, frictionless surface. Above the rubber, the laces were a fraction of what they used to be. Flames had eaten more than half their length. Barely enough left for tying.

The left boot endured only superficial damage. Wide scorch marks covered the exterior. The lace was intact, though badly charred.

Mike abandoned the boots and blanket at the main entrance, so they would not have to smell the scorched rubber all night.

Back in the chamber, Mike added another log to the fire and joined Dagget near the flames.

“That’s too bad,” Mike said. “Those are quality boots. Merrill makes great stuff.”

“I’ve got two more pairs. Are these salvageable?”

“They’ll take you as far as we need to go,” Mike said. “I might be able to rig up some laces. After that, ditch them.”

“So what’s going on with Lisbeth? Did she say why the helicopter runs stopped?” asked Dagget.

Mike relayed the short version, and the more Mike detailed of decisions about the search, the more defeated Dagget looked.

“We’re on our own now?” said Dagget.