Tahoe Chase (An Owen McKenna Mystery Thriller) (29 page)

“Who else was in the group?” I asked.

“Just one more man.” Yet another beep.

“Can you tell me about him?”

She was silent.

“Simone, please. Manuel, or Robert, as you knew him, is dead. Jillian/Miranda is dead. Rell is near death. Maybe Ned killed them to get more cash from the man who was paying him. But if not, it could be that the other person in your group is... Look, I don’t want to alarm you, but the other man in the group could be the killer. If so, then you could be the next victim.”

Simone still didn’t talk for a bit.

“He’s a nice guy. He went by Cameron. He’s kind of a cocky guy,” Simone continued. “Charming in that way. And athletic. Very self-assured.”

I was thinking about Michael Paul’s tattoos. “Does Cameron have tattoos? Or does he always wear long-sleeves?”

“That’s a strange question. Let me think. I don’t remember any tattoos. But I don’t remember him ever wearing short sleeves, either.”

“What did Cameron say?”

“Not much. Just that he was abused as a child. His mother beat on him and his stepbrother over and over. One day, he lashed out and... It would be terrible for me to reveal a confidence.”

“Simone, your oath could get you killed. This man could be looking for you.”

“No, not Cameron. And I’ll go to hell for saying this.”

“Simone, you might live if you say it.”

“Okay. We were hiking. I still remember where. Up at Marlette Lake above the East Shore. Cameron was kind of loose with his mouth, kind of too casual. I thought he’d been drinking. He had a big bottle of what looked like orange juice. But I wondered if he’d put something in it. Someone said something that made Cameron react in a harsh way. So he told us that when he was twelve, he killed his mother. Just like that. He said that no one ever knew and that even if someone knew, it was justified. Cameron said that one day his mother went crazy and beat him and his stepbrother so bad that he had a concussion from a cracked skull. The brother was non-responsive. So the mother took him to the emergency room and told the doctor that he fell and hit his head. Cameron had to sit through that lie. He said he wanted to tell the doctor, but he was afraid that his mother would kill him. After they left the brother at the hospital, Cameron and his mother were walking back to the car. Cameron saw his opportunity and made like he tripped on something just as they were about to cross the street. He fell against his mother and pushed her in front of a truck. He...” she stopped.

I waited. There was another beep. I wanted to tell her to speed up, but I was afraid she would stop altogether.

Eventually, Simone resumed talking.

“We were all shocked. But No Judgment was the rule. We understood. I would have killed my stepfather if I could have figured out how. Cameron is the nicest guy. No way is he dangerous.”

“What does Cameron look like?”

“Like I said, he’s fit and athletic. He’s in his twenties. He has long wavy hair and...” Another beep, this one longer, then silence.

Simone was gone.

FORTY-SEVEN

I gave a long look at Street and Diamond, then told them the gist of what Simone had said.

“Do you think Ned isn’t the murderer anymore?” Street asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Let’s assume Cameron regrets telling people about his personal abuse and how he responded by killing his mother. Does that give him motive for murder? Maybe. But even if he is dangerous, that doesn’t mean he can find Simone. She’s in the middle of nowhere, about to head into Desolation Wilderness. She just told us that she’s at the summit of Rubicon Peak, but that doesn’t mean we could go into the high country and find her. She’s about as hidden and safe as she can be.”

Diamond said, “You could ask Simone to abandon her trip and come down one of the escape routes that Joe gave her.”

“Sure,” Street said. “But we need to remember her perspective. All this is speculation. Our concerns about Cameron might be legitimate. But they might also be false. If you ask her to come down out of the wilderness and we’re wrong, Simone will never forgive us. We’ll be destroying her first big effort to take control of her life. She’s finally proving to herself that she’s strong.”

I leaned back in my desk chair and took a deep breath, let it out, tried to clear my head. “I agree. But let’s just suppose that Cameron was the murderer all along. If so, then he’s very good on skis. He may be the guy I watched skiing after Jillian. If he took out Jillian on the mountain above Sand Harbor, that would show that he is very skillful in the back-country. Tracking Simone might not be much more difficult than tracking Jillian.”

Diamond sat on the edge of my desk. “Maybe it has nothing to do with him telling the group about killing his mother.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You told me about the sergeant from Inyo County.”

“That’s right,” I said, remembering. “Sergeant Gramercy of the Inyo County Sheriff’s Office told Sergeant Bains that Ned Cavett had a younger brother or a half-brother. I think his name was Peter Cavett.”

“And Simone said that the man named Cameron had a stepbrother,” Street said. “They could be the same person.”

“And he could be avenging the perceived wrongs against his wonderful brother Ned,” Diamond said.

“Maybe,” I agreed. “Simone said that she told the rest of the group how Ned beat on her. The group’s mission is to not judge people. But it would be hard to keep an emotional distance if one of the group’s members was currently being abused. They would make comments. They’d tell her to leave such a bad person. If Ned’s younger stepbrother is Cameron, maybe he couldn’t stand to hear everyone talk like his big bro was horseshit.”

“I’ll call Gramercy at Inyo and see if I can learn anything else.” Diamond said. “Meantime, I gotta go.” I nodded at him, and he left.

“I should go talk to Joe,” I said to Street. “Want to come?”

She looked at me, a deep frown on her face. “I want to think about this. I can join you later.”

When Spot and I got to Joe’s house, I told him what happened to Ned.

“He died?!”

“Yeah. An hour or so ago, he attacked me at my office. He tried to drive his truck over me. But he hit that scaffolding, and it collapsed on top of his truck. Ned was crushed.”

It took Joe a moment to respond.

“Well, that’s a damn improvement to this community, having him gone,” he said. He looked out the window toward Mt. Tallac. “Maybe there still is a little justice in this world.” He looked introspective. “Do you still think he was Rell’s assailant?”

“I’d like to think so. And there’s more evidence suggesting that. Yesterday, I found a list of names in his truck. You and Rell, Manuel and Jillian. Ned had drawn lines through Rell’s, Manuel’s and Jillian’s names.”

“So that does it,” Joe said. “He was the killer.”

“I’m still not sure about that. After Ned died, Simone called with concerns about the weather changing and about problems she was having charging her phone. I told her about Ned and the list of names. It turns out that Manuel and Jillian were part of the hiking group that Rell went with. In fact, it looks like Rell started the group. Everyone but Rell used a fake name for anonymity.”

“Why?”

“Because most of them were victims of abuse at some time in their lives. The pseudonyms gave them privacy.” I didn’t want to tell Joe what Simone said about Rell having suffered abuse as a child. It was possible that Joe didn’t know, and I saw no advantage in visiting that horror on him.

“So Rell’s hiking group was really a kind of therapy group?” Joe said. “She was practicing psychology after all.”

“Probably, she was just being a supportive friend to people who could benefit from having others to talk to about their problems. Rell knew that people felt so comfortable with her that they told her things they’d never tell anyone else. It appears that she invited some of those people to go hiking in a way that would allow them to talk anonymously. They called their group No Judgment.”

“And now they’re all dead,” Joe said, his face looking hard.

“All but Rell and Simone and a man who goes by the name Cameron. Apparently, he told the No Judgment group that he and his stepbrother were so abused by their mother that he pushed her in front of a truck.”

Joe made a little jerk.

I continued, “Also, Ned Cavett was originally from Inyo County. Sergeant Bains talked to a sergeant with the Inyo County Sheriff’s Office. He said that Ned had a half-brother or stepbrother.”

Joe raised his eyebrows.

“For awhile,” I said, “I’ve thought that these murders were about limiting your exposure to any anti-development perspective on the Steven’s Peak Resort. But now it seems that the murders could all be about Ned’s half-brother taking out the people who heard Simone talk about Ned’s abuse of her.”

“So the guy named Cameron might be Ned’s brother.”

“Right.”

“And we don’t know who Cameron really is,” Joe said.

“Correct. But Simone thought that he’s in his twenties and said he’s athletic and has long wavy hair.”

“Could be anyone,” Joe said.

“Yeah,” I said.

Joe said, “I think we should call her and tell her to get her ass out of that wilderness. Take the closest escape route on the map. But you said her phone is out of power.”

“Right. Maybe she’ll try hanging the solar charger sheet around her neck, but for now we can’t talk to her. But even if we could, I’m reluctant to call her out of the expedition when our best evidence still makes it look like Ned was the bad guy.”

Joe looked skeptical.

“Street says that Simone is in the process of the biggest accomplishment of her life,” I said. “Simone is proving to herself that she is strong, that she has self-worth, that she can be independent. We don’t want to take this away from her unless we’re confident that she is at risk.”

“I see your point,” Joe said.

“But, let’s consider it hypothetically. She called from Rubicon Peak. What would be involved in skiing up there to try to find her and see if she’s being followed?”

“It would be very difficult. First, with every hour that goes by, her location becomes harder to predict. Without her calling in to report her location, she’s a speck in a huge wilderness.”

“But she could have been followed,” I said.

“Of course. Following’s easy. Finding her is another matter. But an even bigger problem is elevation. Rubicon Peak is almost four thousand feet above the lake. Even if she drops down to the low parts of her scheduled trek, she’s still fifteen hundred to two thousand feet up. That’s too much to climb in deep snow for most people. And that probably includes you. It’s not that difficult for her to come out, because it’s down. But I understand Street’s caution about asking her to choose an escape route, never mind whether or not she can get her phone charged. There’s a lot at stake for Simone. You could save her physically only to find out that she’s lost what little confidence and self-respect she has left. From the things that Rell told me over the years, those things are as important as living.”

While Joe’s words made sense, they also made me feel more lost than ever.

“We need to find out who Cameron really is,” Joe said.

I suddenly remembered that Bob Hinton’s employee had longish, wavy hair.

“There is a person connected to this case who is around that age and is athletic and has long hair. It might be wavy. When I saw him, it was lacquered up at the back of his head. His name is Benjamin Prattel, and he works for Bob Hinton of RKS Properties.”

“The man behind the Steven’s Peak Resort,” Joe said.

“Yeah. If Ben is the hiker who goes by Cameron, and if he’s around, that would remove our worry about Simone. Bob gave me his number. I’ll call him.”

I walked over to Joe’s phone as I pulled out Bob’s card with his personal number. I dialed, and it rang, and I got a synthetic voicemail response. I hung up without leaving a message.

“I think I’ll pay them a visit.”

“Can I come?” Joe asked.

“Sure.”

Joe and I headed north to Cave Rock and went through the tunnel, which was very icy from dripping water running down and freezing on the roadway. Just past the tunnel, we turned on the road that switch-backed down to Bob Hinton’s house. But as we pulled up to the parking pad, we saw the Beats Working backing away from the dock and boathouse.

We watched as the Predator yacht turned a bit. Then it slowed and began to move forward, turning more. Joe and I watched to see what direction it would go.

The big boat eased forward at no-wake speed until it was a hundred yards from shore. Then it roared. It’s pointy bow pitched up, and its stern pressed down into the water as it accelerated forward. The yacht plowed ahead making a large wake. Gradually, the bow dropped as the boat lifted up on plane. The Beats Working made a high-speed turn to starboard and raced north up the lake.

I shifted into reverse, backed out of the drive, shifted forward and drove fast up to the highway. I turned left and sped north up Highway 50.

“You think we can follow it from land?” Joe asked.

“Depends on how she goes,” I said. “We’ll lose track of her when we turn up the mountain toward Spooner Summit. After we turn north on Twenty-eight, she’ll probably go out of sight going around Deadman Point. But if Bob is going all the way to Incline Village, then maybe we can pick the boat up again as we come back close to the water near Secret Harbor.”

“How fast do you think that crate goes?”

“I read about the Predator online,” I said. “I think it said her top speed was thirty-three knots.”

Joe patted the dash of my Jeep. “Whereas this baby probably goes fifty or sixty.”

“Funny guy,” I said, glad that Joe could still make jokes in spite of the stress he was under. “Problem is, our road winds around as it crawls north. The Beats Working can go straight. So our speed advantage might not make up for the extra distance.”

“What if that boat is heading across the lake?”

“Then we’re screwed.” I pointed toward Joe’s feet. “There’s binoculars under your seat. Maybe you can see with them.”

Joe reached under his seat while I drove. I pushed our speed on the straight sections as we approached Glenbrook, then slowed for the big curve as the road turned up the mountain toward Spooner Summit.

Two-thirds of the way up the mountain, we came to the turnoff where Highway 28 heads northwest, gradually coming back closer to the lake. In quick glances to my left, I could see no sign of the Beats Working.

On my right, Joe had the binoculars up. They seemed to point directly at my face, but I understood that he was looking past me, scanning the lake.

“Any luck?” I said.

“No.” But he kept looking.

We went past the snow-covered road that led down to Skunk Harbor, where Leah hid out on Jennifer’s sailboat when I investigated the art forgery. Farther north, we cruised above Secret Harbor and the nude beaches. Joe still looked through the binoculars, a difficult thing to do for many minutes at a time and while bouncing along in a moving vehicle.

Our road left the lake as we went by the estate where George Whittell had built his Thunderbird Lodge castle in the 1930s. Then we rounded a curve and came back near the water. The road was high enough up that we could see all the way across the lake. In fast glances at the water, I saw a few specks here and there, boats too far out to perceive easily except by the way the sun reflected off their wakes.

Joe kept scanning with the glasses.

“I think I see her,” he said as we approached Sand Harbor. “A large yacht about halfway across the lake. Maybe more. Straight west of us.”

“Half way across the lake is five miles from here. Can you tell by the wake which way she’s going?”

After a moment, Joe spoke. “She’s headed away from us.”

“She’s going toward Tahoe City, then. It could be a waste of time for us, but I’m inclined to drive around the lake and see if we can see her on the other side. Okay by you?”

“Yeah.”