The Portrait of Doreene Gray (30 page)

Michael tapped on his phone's screen. “Okay, I'm calling.”

Suki pulled into the street, keeping the van's headlights turned off. “Can anyone see them?” She sped up, leaning forward to peer through the front window.

“There!” Angus pointed. “They're turning left at that intersection.”

“Got it.” Suki sped up, made the turn, then slowed again, so as not to get too close. “Who's the guy on the Taser leash?”

Angus shook his head and started to reply, but Michael held up a hand and made a shushing noise.

“Yes,” he said. “I'm in Fort Worden State Park, and we're following Hank Gray, who is … um … Well, he's taken someone captive with a Taser and is forcing that person to lead him to something. We're following them now.” He paused. “Hold on.” He spoke to Suki. “She says only follow them if you can do it without being noticed. They're sending someone.” He addressed the phone again. “Can you send Detective Kroger? He's been working on a case involving this person. Yes, I'll stay on the line.”

Ahead, the car made another left and followed the coast road to the north.

Michael spoke quietly. “It must be Maxwell Thorne, don't you think? I know he said he moved to the hostel, but…” He trailed off.

Suki nodded. “The body looks too mature for Reynaldo. Hank must think he has the portrait.”

Angus shook his head slightly. “None of this makes any sense.”

The car ahead passed the first two parking lots next to the campground and turned into the last one, disappearing into the darkness.

Suki stopped the van on the road, choosing a spot partially shielded from the lot by a scrubby tree. She killed the engine and pulled the keys from the ignition. “Michael, point that phone up here, will you?”

Michael pointed the phone's face toward the overhead switches for the interior lights. Suki turned them off before opening her car door.

Angus grabbed the shoulder of her jacket. “What do you think you're doing?” he whispered.

Suki turned to look at him. “Following them, what do you think?”

“In the dark? On foot?” Angus shook his head. “He's bound to hear you tripping over tree branches and kicking rocks.”

“Then maybe he'll think twice about killing Max, or whoever it is.”

“With a handheld bug zapper? If he really wanted to kill someone, he'd have a gun.”

“Guns aren't that easy to get,” Michael said. “There are cliffs around here. Hank could shock him unconscious and roll him off.”

“Give me that phone.” Angus took it from Michael while still holding on to Suki. “Ms. Policewoman? Do you think we should follow this man now that he's on foot?” He looked at Suki. “She says
no.
”

Suki snatched the phone from his hand and threw it in the back of the car.

“Hey!” Michael protested.

“Angus, what is
wrong
with you?” Suki asked. “You're not one to stand by while someone is in danger.”

“He doesn't want the cops to find the missing painting,” Michael said, his voice chilly. “That's it, isn't it?”

“I'm only doing what the police told us to do,” Angus protested. “Why call them if you're not going to take their advice?”

“Oh,
Angus.
” Suki's voice was full of disappointment.

Angus let go of her and raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. But if
Tripping
loses this story because of Jolting Jimmy out there, you'll have only yourselves to blame.”

They got out of the car and tiptoed across the road to where they could see past the tree.

“Can you see anything?” Michael whispered as they stared in the direction the other car had gone.

“I can see what might be a car,” Suki whispered, “or it might be a rock or a picnic table.”

“They could be anywhere, after all that time we wasted talking,” Michael said. “I'm going.” He bent low and ran as quietly as possible down the sloped road to the parking area.

The others followed. They crossed the bare lot and found the empty car at the far end, where the asphalt ended and sloping, scrub-covered dunes began.

Michael looked back the way they had come. “Why aren't there any campers?”

“The boat festival ended this afternoon,” Suki said. “I guess they left. Here's a path.”

They walked up the sliding sand, weeds scratching at their pant legs. At the top, the concrete bulk of the battery was visible as a darker shape against the night sky.

They stopped and listened, but heard only the wind in the needles of the enormous firs overhead.

“Do you think Hank took him somewhere else?” Michael whispered.

They stiffened as a muffled shriek came from the building ahead. It echoed strangely.

“They're inside,” Suki said. “Come on.”

They crept across the graveled area in front of the building, their footsteps crunching slightly. It was darker beneath the concrete overhang of the second story. The doors that led to storage areas and from there to the tunnels were barely visible as pitch-black squares.

They slowly traversed the front, hands against the wall.

Suki, in the lead, felt a frantic tapping on her back. She turned.

“I think I hear something back the other way,” Michael said, his voice a mere breath. He turned and ran into Angus, who grunted. Michael grabbed hold of his shoulders and turned him back the way they had come.

They crossed the center of the building and stopped at the first door on the other side. Slight sounds came from the pitch-black opening—the echo of footfalls on concrete, and the occasional grunt or groan.

Michael tugged at the other two until they were several feet to the side of the door. “You stay behind one of those trees and call the police again. I'll make a noise and see if I can lure him out. Then I'll tackle him or something.”

“Or
something
.” Angus managed to pack a world of scorn into his murmur. “Have you ever been in a fight?”

Michael hesitated, then shook his head.

“Well, I have, many times. You two stay behind the trees and leave it to me. I'll give him the old Glasgow kiss.”

“What?” Michael whispered.

“He means a head butt,” Suki explained. “And why don't both of you stay behind the trees and let me handle this? You're looking at four years of kickboxing classes here.”

They turned at the sound of approaching cars coming from the other side of the dune.

“The cops!” Suki whispered. “We'd better show them where to go.”

“Good idea,” Michael said.

Angus gave them both a little push. “Hurry. If we're lucky, Max hasn't broken down yet.”

They found Detective Kroger and six officers at the head of the path. Kroger stationed police at the other entrances to the battery, to prevent escape, and then went inside with the remaining cops, their flashlight beams sweeping the walls.

He took up a position outside the tunnel entrance and accepted the bullhorn one of his officers held out to him. “COME OUT WITH—” Kroger jerked and lowered the bullhorn as echoes bounced around the concrete walls. “
Man,
that was loud.”

From their place in the outer doorway, the
Tripping
staff removed their hands from their ears.

Kroger handed the bullhorn back to his officer and settled for shouting into the darkness. “Come out, Mr. Gray. Raise your hands above your head, fingers spread. We have every exit covered.”

After perhaps fifteen seconds, they heard the sound of footsteps, and a light shone from the tunnel.

Kroger averted his face. “Point the light at the floor, Gray. Now.”

The light dropped. A long, broken shadow preceded the men, and then Maxwell Thorne stumbled out of the tunnel. He held the gun-shaped Taser and its gathered wires in one hand. The leads ended in a bloody spot on his shirt. “Thank God.” He tottered over to sit on the floor, his back against the wall.

As Hank Gray emerged, he raised his hands in the air. He wasn't wearing the brown contacts, and his blue eyes looked cold and sinister in the tanned surround of his face. “We were just having some fun, that's all. Max knows I would never really hurt him.”

“Drop the flashlight and lie facedown on the floor,” Kroger barked at him.

Hank obeyed, bending his knees and lowering himself awkwardly to the ground. At a nod from Kroger, one of the cops knelt on his back and handcuffed him, then searched him thoroughly as he read him his rights.

As Hank was hauled to his feet, he caught sight of Max. “Why don't you tell them, Max? Tell them it was just a little game.”

Max pointed a trembling finger at him. “You're
crazy,
and I hope you rot in jail for a long time.” His voice was weak.

Kroger nodded toward one of his officers. “Have the ambulance guys check Mr. Thorne.” He turned to Max. “Afterward, Mr. Thorne, I'd like to see you at the station so I can ask you some questions.”

“I'm happy to answer anything I can,” Max said, “although I don't know if anyone can make sense out of this lunatic's actions.”

Hank looked back from where he was being led to the outside door. “Don't believe him. He's lying.” Still facing backward, his head smacked into a low-hanging concrete support. “Ow! Motherf—”

“Whoopsie,” said the cop in charge of him. “You want to watch where you're going.”

 

Twenty-four

Detective Kroger sat in the Port Townsend police station's interrogation room across a table from Hank Gray.

In a connecting room, Angus, Suki, and Michael watched the proceedings on a video monitor, accompanied by a policewoman.

“Why did you take Max into the gun battery?” Kroger asked Hank, for perhaps the thirtieth time.

Hank stared past him, stone-faced.

“You wanted him to show you something. You said he had stolen it. Do you think Maxwell Thorne has the portrait? He was having coffee while the van was in transit. He has a receipt with the time stamp and the waitress remembers him.”

Hank remained silent.

Kroger tilted his head and studied him. “Maybe you think Thorne stole the painting from Ms. Gray the night she died, but he has the best alibi of any of you. He was at the Olympic Hostel with a bunch of rowdy kids. He helped make dinner. He played piano. Then he slept on the top bunk of a bunk bed, while the guy below stayed up most of the night texting his girlfriend back in Germany.”

Hank continued to stare off to one side, his cuffed hands resting on the table. “Where's my lawyer?”

“I have no idea. Presumably Ms. Pinter is working on getting you one, but things take longer when it's the middle of the night. She has to wake people up. They have to get dressed and unlock their offices. Could someone else have stolen the painting? I'm prepared to believe that, but you have to give me something to work with.”

Hank's gaze drifted to Kroger, and his lip curled. “Let me know when my lawyer arrives.”

Outside the room, the policewoman's phone buzzed. She took it from the belt holster and checked the screen, then went into the room and showed it to Kroger.

Kroger pushed back his chair. “Think about cooperating, Mr. Gray. We'd be very glad to find that portrait.”

The policewoman took up a position at the side of the room, one hand on her gun holster.

Kroger came out, leaving the door open. He gestured for Angus and the others to follow him down the hall. “They've brought Thorne in. Apparently he's okay, other than a couple of holes in his side where the Taser probes went in.”

“Poor fellow,” Angus said sympathetically. “It's pretty clear Hank Gray is a madman.”

“I'd prefer it if he weren't,” Kroger said, “but there's nothing in that gun battery. We also checked the video from the evidence room. It clearly shows Thorne putting the painting in the box. Officer Madison closed the lid, the two of them leaned it against the wall, and that's where it stayed until we took it out and put in the van.”

“Does the van have video surveillance in it?” Michael asked.

Kroger's lips thinned. “No.”

“Some kind of GPS tracker?”

“This isn't TV,” Kroger said tightly. “It's just a van.”

“But Officer Madison helped Max put the painting in the crate
and
he drove the van?” Michael asked.

“Yes.”

Michael looked excited. “Did he and Maxwell talk about anything while they were in the evidence room?”

“Probably, but the surveillance camera doesn't have audio.” Kroger narrowed his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

“What if, while they were in there, Max slipped the officer a note or a bunch of cash as a bribe to stop the van along the way? He got gas, right? How well do you know Officer Madison?”

“He's my nephew,” Kroger said, “and the gas station is only about five blocks from this station, all on well-traveled streets. They'd be taking the painting out in front of anyone who happened to walk by.” He sighed. “But I'll check and make sure Madison hasn't received any mysterious cash contributions.”

Angus patted his shoulder. “You took every reasonable precaution, but you can't guard against supernatural vanishment. I think we have to accept that the portrait is gone forever.”

“
You
may be able to accept that,” Kroger said. “This station's insurance provider won't.”

They turned a corner and Kroger led the way into his office, where he settled into his chair with a sigh.

Angus and Suki took the two guest chairs. Michael looked around for a third, then settled for leaning against the wall.

Kroger poked at some papers on his desk. “Someone will bring your transcribed statements to sign, and then you can leave.”

Michael nodded absently. “Is someone keeping watch on the battery?”