The Green Children: A Sycamore Moon Novel (Sycamore Moon Series Book 3) (22 page)

 

 

 

 

Diego grumbled from the jeep's back seat. It was cramped and he couldn't hear the occasional remarks made between Maxim and Dan in the front. The biker had wanted to take his Scrambler, of course, but the ranger had pointed out how impractical that was. They were venturing into high country, through thick brush and two streams already, and his street bike wasn't built for that abuse. The open air was nice, at least. But this wasn't a pleasure drive.

After some time, Diego leaned forward to see Maxim studying pictures on his phone. As he scrolled through, Diego patted him on the shoulder.

"Wait. Go back."

Maxim swiped back a couple times until Diego nodded.

"That's the one," said the biker.

"What about it?"

"That kid. I've seen that kid before. In the forest."

Diego couldn't forget the golden hair, except in this school picture, the locks were neatly combed.

"Well, yeah," said Maxim, slightly perplexed. "This is Todd Payton. Those were his bones you stumbled on."

"No, I mean I saw..." Diego trailed off, putting it together for the first time.

Maxim misread the biker's confusion and explained. "I worked up a new crime profile on Lachlan Munro last night after realizing there were many victims. That kilt you found? It wasn't the same one from the RV. Munro tried to burn the evidence in his possession. So I expanded the search parameters and looked for new matches. The task force has gotten multiple hits so far. Get this. Todd was confirmed missing six months ago out of Oklahoma City. The kilt in his grave was fake. Or cheap. It was just a costume kilt for Halloween. Todd Payton dressed in traditional Scottish attire that day. Except he never made it home from school."

Diego stared wordlessly at the digital image. He couldn't tell how old the boy was, but he was about Hazel's age. He had been, anyway. Something about the innocence in his expression tore at Diego. But something else didn't feel right.

"What's the link to Oklahoma City?"

Maxim nodded and tapped his phone to his temple. "You've got to remember. Munro lives in an RV. He's mobile. I've been trying to track his movements as best as possible, but the man lives off the grid. Even campsite records are lacking." Ranger Briggs glanced over with interest. "But Red's RV club is based out of Livingston, Texas. As is his registration. And Texas requires a yearly vehicle inspection."

Dan cut in. "So Red leaves Arizona at least once a year."

"Not just once a year," said Maxim. "His renewal deadline is the end of October. He hit it right before Halloween. Oklahoma City is only six hours from Livingston. That would've given Red plenty of time to drive city to city scoping for targets of opportunity."

Dan whistled and shook his head. Diego couldn't even manage that sophisticated a reaction. There was no doubt anymore. The circumstantial evidence against Red had piled past any defense. The old man was a child killer.

Finally, the moment passed and Diego could work on the puzzle again. "So what did he do with Hazel?"

Maxim stretched his lips taut and put his phone back in his jacket pocket.

"What is it?" asked Diego.

Maxim sighed. "You're not going to like this."

"Like what?"

"Okay, here goes. Red's not a criminal mastermind or anything, but he's careful. Systematic. I believe he's abducted several children with this routine. He collects victims from out of state and disappears, nothing more than a passing blip on radar."

Diego knew what was coming. "Nobody's perfect, Maxim."

"I know that. I make my living from people's mistakes. But I don't think someone who takes the time to vary their hunting grounds would risk everything by shitting where they sleep. Look at Annabelle Hayes, or the other children who returned. They make no mention of Lachlan Munro, or any adults for that matter. I can't believe he'd be so sloppy as to let them get away and then so lucky as to remain unfingered."

Diego hissed, allowing his temper to come through. He knew what Maxim was saying. That everything they'd done so far had been wasted. That they'd been chasing the wrong lead the last four days.

Ranger Briggs, however, nodded in agreement. "You didn't mention one important fact, Detective."

They both waited for him to enlighten them.

Dan slowed the jeep and parked on the side of the small dirt road. He turned to them. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? We're looking for a missing girl, but Red likes little boys."

Maxim raised his eyebrows, apparently satisfied with the reasoning. Diego leaned back, trying to process the possibility. Hazel and Annabelle went missing in too close a proximity to Red to be a coincidence. He had to be involved, all right. If law enforcement wanted to spin their wheels trying to make things more complicated than they needed to be, he wouldn't stop them.

Red wasn't his concern. Not yet, anyway. His only mission right now was the little girl.

"Why aren't we moving?" barked Diego, not disguising his annoyance with the men.

Dan Briggs hopped out of the jeep and hooked his hands on his belt. "Wounded Ranger Tank. We're here."

The biker scanned the area, not seeing anything remotely resembling a lake.

The ranger read their confusion. "Something you need to know about the Sycamore Canyon Wilderness. It's one of the oldest such areas in Arizona. Even before the Wilderness Act, it was a designated Primitive Area. That means this land is as wild as it gets. There aren't any roads where we're going. This is as far as the jeep can take us. From here on out, we hike."

 

 

 

 

Maxim wiped the sweat from his brow. It was cool within the forest—the grand canopy above smothered the sun like a dark storm cloud—but they had been hiking for more than an hour. It was a good thing Briggs had packed water bottles because the physical toll was greater than expected.

Much of the terrain was treacherous: uphill, downstream, through thickets and crevasses. It wasn't life threatening, but slow going all the same. The tree cover cast darker shadows than should have been possible during the day. Even worse, the sun was falling in the sky.

"I don't think an eight-year-old could've made it this way," complained Diego as he vaulted the rocky crest of the hill. The three men scanned the ground on the other side. Briggs squinted through the trees and Diego sat for a moment.

"There are easier ways to the tank," said the ranger.

"Really?" mocked Diego. "You don't think we could have gone one of those ways then?"

Maxim chewed his lip. According to Briggs, they had almost reached Wounded Ranger Tank three times already. Instead, they were quickly losing the day.

"We're lost," said the detective matter-of-factly. "Aren't we?"

Dan Briggs kept his eyes on the lower ground. Maxim withdrew his phone and was surprised to see a faint signal.

Diego hissed. "What's the point of a park ranger escort if you don't know the way?"

"I know the way," assured Briggs. "I don't know what happened. I just... got turned around somehow. I've been to the tank many times before."

"Have you ever been here?" asked the biker.

Briggs nervously tapped his finger on his belt. "Not really."

"What about the dry creek we passed?" asked Maxim. "Shouldn't that have led us to it?"

The ranger shook his head. "The tank isn't a natural body of water. It's not connected to the river network. Don't worry, though. I think I got my bearings."

Maxim's phone finally loaded their GPS location. "You wanna check the map?"

"No need. It's this way. Let's go."

Ranger Briggs marched down the hill. Maxim nodded and put his phone away.

The biker frowned. "He has no idea where he's going."

"I don't know," returned Maxim. "He's headed straight to where the GPS says he should be going."

The biker heaved himself to his feet and let out a tired groan. "I'd be a lot more confident if he wasn't walking straight back the way we came."

Maxim smirked and the two men followed the eager ranger at a distance.

"Didn't you get lost in the woods for half a day?" joked the detective.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine then." As they neared the bottom of the hill, Briggs pulled farther ahead. He was trying to beat the sun down. According to Google, a straight line to the tank would give them plenty of time. "As the crow flies," murmured Maxim.

Diego grumbled, "I don't think we'll be seeing any crows today." Maxim almost asked what the annoyed biker meant, but Diego moved on. "Look at him. He's practically running. He loves it out here."

"It's kind of nice," Maxim admitted. "It just needs better cell coverage."

"Doesn't bother me. I don't have mine with me."

"Big surprise."

"What gets me is all the walking and climbing. It's arduous. Slow. It's the opposite of the open road."

The detective couldn't disagree. They lived surrounded by nature. Sanctuary was nestled within the woods, but it was an oasis that held the wild at bay. Plus, it was connected to the rest of the world by asphalt and power lines. Well, maybe some of the roads were dirt, but it was nothing his TT couldn't manage.

"What do you think makes a person want to rough it out here?" asked Maxim.

His friend considered the question longer than small talk warranted. "You're talking about Red."

"I suppose. I mean, he had a mom and dad. Maybe siblings. He had to've been a part of society at one time. What makes a man up and disconnect like he did?"

"Besides his proclivities?" Diego swung his shotgun to his other hand. "He's running from something. If someone somewhere else had done their job, he'd already be in prison waiting for the needle."

"Or maybe he's far from home."

Diego didn't buy it. "Maybe, but he's running. I've seen it before. In his case, he probably killed somebody too close to him and had to take off. You've seen the news stories too. The media interviews the neighbor, who says, 'I don't know how this could've happened. He was always such a nice old man.' None of the friends ever suspect anything, but they should."

Maxim attempted to smile at the humor. "Well, let's hope he was old when he started this, anyway." Briggs was still in sight. Maxim and Diego kept to a brisk pace, and the ranger slowed to allow them to catch up.

"Do you think that's what makes a society?" asked Maxim. "Friends and neighbors?"

Diego cocked his head. "Do you?" he asked rhetorically. After a minute, he answered. "Living next to some other jackass doesn't make you social. It doesn't make you part of the greater whole. You need to actively
connect
to other people. That's why they call the opposite disconnected."

Maxim frowned, his thoughts directed inward. Here he was, judging Red's life, but the microscope didn't feel especially good on him either. Since his wife had died, Maxim had lost most of his social nature. His friends had really been
her
friends. Or coworkers. When it came down to it, Diego was his only friend. The irony was not lost on Maxim that a detective could only trust an outlaw.

But it was more than that. Ever since his wife, and a brief dalliance with Nithya Rao, Maxim hadn't involved himself with dating either.

The thought wasn't just uncomfortable. It burned him like an ant under a magnifying glass. He had to admit, the light of truth was harsh.

Good thing the sun didn't penetrate the Sycamore tree cover.

"I've been seeing Julia a lot these last few days," Diego blurted out.

Maxim shook his head clear and studied the biker. Diego had been analyzing himself as well. "Do you think that's wise? With Hazel missing?"

"Of course it isn't. But I've been taking it slow. I don't want to take advantage of her. She's..."

"Nice," finished Maxim.

The biker nodded. "You know, I've never met Hazel, but Julia's told me so much about her that I feel like I do. It's weird because I barely know her, but after my sister left town, I don't have anyone to look after. You know?"

Maxim frowned again. "You're ready for that? You want a kid all of a sudden? How old are you again?"

"Oh, come on. You only got me by five years."

"Yeah, and I don't think I'm ready."

Diego chuckled. "It just feels right," he said. "I know we can find Hazel and move past this. Then we can see how things go when everything's stable."

"Nothing's ever stable for you, Diego."

"I'm serious. You know, I can tell there's something between you and Olivia too."

The flip of the lens was jarring. Immediately, Maxim soured. "Let's not get into that."

"Why not?" countered Diego. "I know her daughter didn't make it, bro. I'm so sorry about that. For her, but for you too." The man patted Maxim on the shoulder, but he brushed the arm away.

"That's not about me."

"But it is, Maxim. It's obvious to everybody except you." Diego quieted for a moment to let that stew. "You've been through a lot these last few years. It would be good for you to put yourself out there, even if it didn't work out. Make a connection."

All the wetness abandoned Maxim's mouth. He needed a chug from his water bottle before continuing. "It's not that I haven't thought about it," he said.

"But?"

"What do you want me to say? Something about the situation doesn't feel right. Something about Annabelle."

"You see? You know more about the girl than you let on." Maxim knew Diego was trying to lighten the mood, but he didn't see the reason for it. "Tell me something about her," the biker said.

"Who?"

"Annabelle. Tell me something about her."

Maxim dropped his eyes to his feet, comforted by the repetitive back and forth of their gait. He couldn't say how well he'd known Annabelle. During his limited visits, the girl hadn't spoken much. Like him, she'd been disconnected. She must have been happy one day, but something rotted the joy away until only emptiness remained. She hadn't talked because there was nothing left of herself to give.

"She was sad," professed Maxim. "Very, very sad." What else could he possibly say about her?

Diego shook his head. "No, bro. Tell me something about
her
. About who she was."

The detective released a heavy breath. He had to know more than that. It was his job to read people. Sometimes that was all he had to go on.

Vacant, lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

Annabelle Hayes had put herself into that fountain. She'd taken her own life deliberately. The ME would say no different. That's what Maxim knew.

Only, the why was more perplexing.

"I know she believed in spirits," he finally said. He recalled the Ouija board, the kid's game in her room, meant for séances with the dead. Maxim stuck his hands in his jacket and retrieved her key chain, still there. Forgotten. He studied the eyes of the Day of the Dead skeleton. Another lifeless mask. "She believed in an afterlife."

Diego furrowed his brow. "Maxim, that's not quite what I had in mind."

"That's why she killed herself. I think that's why she ran off into the forest. She didn't want to be alive in this shitty world anymore."

The biker didn't have a response to that. Maxim was happy for the silence.

The key chain jingled in his hands. He thought about Annabelle leaving it behind at her father's house, a sign that she wouldn't need them again. Had she forgotten them in Maxim's car on purpose as well? Maybe she'd always planned on disappearing. Maybe it was a message to him.

It felt strange to have something of the girl's. He'd only found it the night before. There was never a chance to return it. Now that Annabelle was dead, it felt wrong to have it, like he had a part of her that she cherished. He clinked the metal in his hands absentmindedly.

Again he studied the alarm fob. He wondered what it was used for if Annabelle didn't drive. Then he read the labels above the buttons and realized the device didn't open or close doors. It didn't lock and unlock cars. It was an audio recorder.

Maxim pressed the playback button and heard a tinny voice through the speaker. Diego turned to him with a dark expression when they understood what they were listening to. Annabelle was singing. Maxim couldn't understand many of the words, but the song was sad and haunted.

He tried to turn the volume up but the track skipped. The thing only had a few buttons so he didn't have very fine control over what he could do.

"I love you, Mom," came Annabelle's voice over the speaker. "I love you, Dad. It's not your fault, even if you don't love each other." Something unintelligible followed. Maxim moved the fob to his ear. There were strange clunking sounds and then he couldn't hear anything else. The track had ended.

He pushed the button again. This time there was a man's voice.

"Why are you always playing with that key chain?" Maxim didn't recognize him through the small speaker.

"I don't know," answered the girl. "You took away my cell phone."

"That's so we can talk privately, Annabelle. I want you focusing on my words."

Maxim realized it was Dr. Collins. Annabelle had recorded a session with him.

"You must stop doing this to your mother," he continued. "It really concerns her."

"She doesn't care about me," said Annabelle.

"That's not true. It hurts her. At your age, it's difficult to see the world through the eyes of others. You don't see what you're doing to her."

"It doesn't matter."

"You'll break her heart," he said firmly. "She still has affection for me. These cries for help cause more damage than simply bearing the burden yourself."

Maxim listened intently, getting the thrust of the message while missing some of the specific references. It was standard psychoanalysis, as far as he knew, but it felt wrong. If simply having the key chain felt like an invasion of Annabelle's privacy, listening to her private songs and conversations was an outright violation.

"You are strong," repeated Bertrand several times. "Remember you told me that when you first ran away. I believed you Annabelle, then and now. You are strong enough for this."

As they hiked, Maxim had trouble focusing on the banalities of the therapy. Everything mentioned was about her feelings, her state of mind. The girl wasn't talkative and mostly just listened as the doctor dictated advice. Maxim listened and played with the key chain, walking in the dimming light, wondering how long the audio track was.

A faint smile crossed the detective's lips when he realized he was holding a mini-flashlight as well.

He squeezed the button and a sharp green light came on. Maxim waved it around but it was a useless gesture. The LED burned brightly, but it didn't cast any light on the dark surroundings. He moved closer to a tree to gauge just how close he needed to be to see the light against the bark. When he got closer, he saw it. A glyph, carved into the bark.

"Good job," said Diego sarcastically, sighing and squinting ahead in the fading light. "Now we just need a hundred more of those flashlights and we could see something out here."

Maxim didn't reply. In fact, he completely froze. With the press of a button, the audio cut out.

It wasn't the Celtic cross he was paying attention to anymore. Standing just a foot behind the brush, looking right at him, was Annabelle Hayes.