The Body in the Landscape (A Cherry Tucker Mystery Book 5) (21 page)

She grabbed my ear and wrenched. I howled in pain.

Fists hammered on the bedroom door.

I swung a knuckle at Peach’s chin and missed. She chucked one back and caught my shoulder.

Icy water hit my face and drenched my Talladega t-shirt. I blinked off the water, looked up, and found LaToya standing over us, a cup in her hand.

“You crazy women chill.” The stink-eye LaToya delivered held the level of disdain only found in teenagers annoyed with adults.

I ducked my head. Water dripped off my ponytail into my lap.

“Everything’s fine,” she hollered to Mike. LaToya folded her arms over her chest, reminding me of a stance my deceased Grandma Jo often had taken with me. “What’s going on?”

“Peach snuck out in the night and we tracked her to a camp. The camp of a Jayce Deed, who’s supposed to be a photographer but is in reality a pellet gun-wielding psycho intent on scaring the pants off someone in this tournament.”

“How do you know this?” said LaToya. “Did you see her at this camp?”

“Well, no. But I saw her sneak out. When she came back, she told Viktor she’d gone out to smoke. But she doesn’t have any cigarettes.” I pointed my trigger finger at Peach. “Ha.”

“This girl is a lunatic,” said Peach. “I don’t know any Jayce Deed. And how did she see me sneak out? Where were you?”

“Finding the diablo pellets your boyfriend, Jayce Deed, shot at the bunkhouse tonight.”

“Pellets?” LaToya lifted her lip. “Some guy shot at us with a Red Ryder?”

I stood, dripping LaToya’s cold shower onto the pine planks. “Peach, you’re going to fess up right now or I’m going to show
Bob
all those awful videos you took of him.”

“Bob’s not going to put up with this bullshit.” Peach sneered. “He sees you for what you are, you piece of trash. You think playing detective makes you look smart or something? We’re laughing at you behind your back. You’re just an ignorant hillbilly.”

My last nerve hammered.

“Hillbilly? Peach, because you’re from California, you may not realize this.” For this important lesson, I used a heavenly directed finger point. “In Georgia, we are not hillbillies.”

“True.” LaToya nodded. “Around here, she’s just called country.”

Thirty-One

I
left Peach with LaToya. I had a feeling LaToya already didn’t care for Bob’s girlfriend and she hoped Peach’s guilt meant a chance for her to stay in the tournament. After borrowing a pair of thermal coveralls from LaToya, I snuck out of the bedroom. Mike dozed by the window. Jeff had locked his rifle back in the kitchen pantry, but the night vision binoculars still lay on the great pine table. I grabbed a pair, a leash, and bent to rouse Buckshot from her hearthrug nest.

“Come on, girl,” I whispered. “It’s go time.”

With a long yawn, she stretched, shaking out each leg. Showing her the leash, I led her to the door. At the scrape of the lock and rattle of the doorknob, I held my breath. I glanced back, but Mike’s chin still lay on his chest. A tea cup rested on the windowsill.

“That’s what Viktor gets for not bringing coffee,” I muttered.

We slipped into the dank and murky pre-dawn. Buckshot’s collar jangled and after a brisk body shake, she bounded forward. I pulled her back and led her around the side of the bunkhouse.

“Usually I take Todd with me on these kinds of excursions, but I think it’s best not to involve him.”

Buckshot cocked her head.

“It’s personal,” I said. “Besides, Todd has many skills, but tracking is not one of them. I don’t want to endanger you, but I could sure use your help. As Abel’s faithful companion, you have a dog in this hunt, so to speak. Are you ready to do your part?”

Her bushy tail whipped back and forth.

“Buckshot, we’re hunting Jayce Deed’s campsite. When we get there, you need to beef it up, act real tough, okay? Pretend you’re a German Shepherd or a Chihuahua or something. None of this ‘everybody’s my best friend’ stuff.”

She gave a happy yip and swerved into a bush.

“This is serious,” I said, hauling her from the bush. “This Deed may have murdered Lesley. For what reason, I don’t know, but I do know he most likely has a pellet gun and a knife. I’ve got to take him by surprise. You’re here to let me know if that hog or any other danger’s nearby.”

Catching a scent, Buckshot rushed forward, pulling me with her.

I scanned the forest with the thermal binoculars, hunting for the unnatural boxed shape of the tent. We threaded through the trees, heading in the general direction I had taken with Jeff and Todd. To plunge into Deed’s campsite with no weapon other than a human-loving dog was foolish and irresponsible. I winced, thinking of the harangue I would have received from my Uncle Will and Luke. But action needed to be taken before Deed got away. I’d no luck persuading anyone to mind me thus far. I was tired of being ignored. And feeling stalked made me furious.

And maybe a bit irrational.

At the edge of the campsite, I squatted and pulled Buckshot into my side. The UTV, another Mule, had returned. All appeared quiet in the tent.

“No barking,” I told Buckshot, unclipping her leash. “I’m going inside that tent. I want you to wait outside, just in case Deed pulls out a weapon. I’m hoping to disarm him before he knows what’s going on. I’ll leave the opening unzipped so you can come when I call. Remember, be fierce.”

I took her tail wag as agreement and led her into the campsite. I held a heavy-duty flashlight in one hand, the binoculars in the other. Buckshot carried her leash in her mouth. At the entrance to the tent, I sank to my haunches. Buckshot sat, wagging her tail, and dropped her leash. While giving her head a good scrub, I finger motioned the plan, ending with the zip-it lips.

She licked my finger.

I counted to three, said a prayer, then charged in. Swinging the flashlight up like a baton, I crawled forward until my knees hit a body, poised myself above, and tried to determine which end was the head.

“Why’re you back?” said No-Mustache/Jayce Deed’s sleepy voice.

Pointing the flashlight in the direction of the voice, I turned on the beam and blasted Deed full in the face. He blinked and held up his hand.

“What’re you doing?” he said. “I can’t see.”

“You’ve been caught. Fess up now.”

“Who are you?”

I flashed the light around the tent, snatched the air rifle, then shined the beam in his face. “I’ll shoot you and it will hurt like hell.”

He rose onto his elbows. “Are you with the hunt party?”

“Who are you stalking?
Bob
Bass? How do you know Peach?”

“Come on, man.” Deed rose to sitting. “Put the gun down. I’m not doing anything.”

“Liar. You’re not a photographer. What’s your real reason for being out here?”

“Dude, seriously. I’m camping. I have permission to be out here.”

“The hell you are. You don’t even have wieners or beer. You and Peach are working together to terrorize the hunters.” I dug myself a hole and hoped he jumped in. “I got her to confess back in the bunkhouse and now we’re holding her.”

“Wieners?” Deed’s nostrils flared and the soul patch rose with his chin. His sneer bared angry white teeth, before laughing. “Her confession should have made my intentions clear.”

“So y’all are some kind of activists. But this isn’t about processed meat. Peach is taking videos of
Bob
Bass looking like an ass. To make fun of him?”

“There’s more to it, obviously.” Jayce raised a manscaped eyebrow. “But humor is an important part of our campaigns. It grabs the attention of those with less complex modes of thinking.”

“
Huh
?
”

“My father started Ban Sapiens back in the eighties. Before he was mauled by that grizzly. I had to pick up where he left off.” The toothy smile he flashed reminded me of a gator’s. Ironic, I thought, for an herbivore. “The first step is always education. Civilization needs to understand the pointlessness of our existence. Humans are destroyers. I’m not just talking existential nihilism. That’s old news. Ban Sapiens is a practical effort. The eventual culmination will be eradication.”

“You want to eradicate humans?” I felt compelled to point out that absurdity but decided my pearls of wisdom would be wasted on this swine lover.

“Humans are the most unnatural beings on this planet. Do you realize what the world would be like without us?”

“Kind of like that tree falling in the forest with nobody around to hear it. Why aren’t you making a fuss of this contest publicly? What’s the point of all the guerrilla tactics?”

“Where have you been? Demonstrations are so twentieth century. Who cares about TV news when you can go viral and reach more people? Revolutions start with guerrilla fighters. It’s all about using shock campaigns to catch people’s attention.” His tone reminded me of a preacher’s and his hands flew with his speech, eager to share his version of the good news. “This invitation provided the perfect opportunity to ruin Bass’s TV show and upload footage that will disgust his fans and show the world what an idiot he is with a few well-timed, startling but harmless gags.”

“The skeet shoot incident wasn’t harmless. Someone could have gotten killed.”

“Peach told me about that incident. Not my idea, but how wonderfully effective. Humans invent a device to train them how to kill and the very device turns on them. So very Frankenstein.
Bob
Bass goes from hunter to huntee.”

“That wasn’t you?” I lowered the gun to my lap, but left my hand on the stock. “I don’t get it. Do you hate
Bob
Bass or humans in general?”

“We chose Bass as one example to showcase the inanity of humans. There are others on the list. I could read you our mission statement.”

“Another time. You got your footage. Go home and leave the rest of us alone.”

“I’m not supposed to go home yet.” He cocked his head, drew forward on his haunches, and simian-like, rested his fists on the floor. “Did you hear that?”

“What do you mean, not supposed to go home?” I couldn’t get a handle on Jayce Deed’s size of screwball. Poor Lesley had nothing on this guy. “Are you planning on chaining yourself to that hog or something? Because I’m telling you right now, that isn’t going to work.”

“You don’t understand. I pity your simple mind.”

“Was Lesley helping you? The monster swine guy? Did you drive him out here?”

“Yes. We dialogued, found mutual points of interest, but in the end, our goals weren’t aligned.”

“So you killed him?”

“Shh.” Deed’s hindquarters rose with his head. “Something’s out there.”

“It’s just Buckshot. A dog.”

Hearing her name, Buckshot whined and scratched the tent flap.

Deed’s arms flexed. I swung the lightweight rifle too late. Deed pushed forward, knocking me hard across the chest. I fell back. The flashlight flew, spiraling its beam around the tent. The gun jerked from my hand.

Deed ripped the binoculars from around my neck, then grasped my throat with one hand. His knees pinned my arms to the ground and seat pressed into my pelvis. Releasing my neck, he snatched the flashlight and switched it off.

I now knew where Peach got her moves. Unfortunately, Jayce was much heavier.

Lowering his body, he brought his face close to mine. He smelled of rain and granola. “Quiet.”

I squirmed beneath him. “Get off of me.”

The tent rustled. Buckshot’s brindle nose jutted between our faces. Deed yelped, and the cur gave us a quick face bath.

“Get rid of the dog.” Deed’s groomed brows spiked and beads of sweat dripped from his forehead.

“Are you scared of Buckshot?”

His white-rimmed eyes flashed and, cobra-like, his upper torso rose, leaving his legs to pin me to the ground. “I’m not scared of animals. That would be ridiculous.”

“Because the rest of this is all so sane,” I muttered. “I can’t very well contain Buckshot unless you let me go.”

The pressure on my legs released and I shook them out before rising to wrap an arm around the dog. Buckshot’s tail thumped and I stroked her back.

Deed backed into the far wall of the tent and grabbed an object too dark to see. Assuming he had recovered the rifle, I mentally signaled Buckshot to summon a ferocious growl.

She washed my ear instead.

“Here’s the thing,” I spoke, while trying to calculate the potential deadliness of Jayce Deed. Did his anti-humanism lead toward an eradication of our species, starting with this weekend? “You succeeded in destroying the contest. Well, you and the mud. As far as I know, the hog’s still intact. You’ve got plenty of footage of Bass acting foolish and scared. I assume that’s the intention of all those delightful pranks. Mission accomplished. So now you need to come back to the bunkhouse with me and give yourself up.”

“Mission not accomplished until I hear differently. I’m supposed to stay until the end.”

“Hear differently from who? Peach? What end?” I raised my voice in frustration. “Are you working with somebody at Big Rack? Who gave you permission to camp and to use the UTV?”

“If Peach confessed like you said, you would know the details of my arrangement.” He waved the dark object in his hand.

My mind flew through a movie lover’s catalog of devices waved by crazy men. “Is that a detonator?” Shoving Buckshot behind me, I began scooting toward the flap.

“Detonator? You’ve got quite the imagination.”

My boot smacked a heavy object and I caught the flashlight before it rolled out of the tent. Aiming at Deed, I clicked on the beam.

Deed’s teeth flashed. “It’s not just been
Bob
Bass who’s looked like an idiot. You’ve all made for entertaining programming this weekend. It’s been so easy to freak everyone out. And thanks to Peach, now I can track you more easily
.”
He laughed, rose into a stoop, and waved the missing walkie-talkie. “I’m not the one who should be answering these questions. There’s someone even more diabolical than me in these woods.”

“Who?”

I heard the gunshot at the same time my spotlight caught Deed’s collapse onto the tent floor.