The Shadowkiller (12 page)

And this one, this old one was far away. He knew that now and his anger subsided. But he knew something else: this old one was coming.

M
ac and Carillo arrived at the trailhead to resume the search. The Range Rover was still there with two Snohomish County Sheriff's cruisers next to it. No one was visible.

“Told you they'd die,” Carillo said, only half joking.

“Let's hope not,” Mac said as he climbed out of the car. “Then we'd have a ton more paperwork. Not to mention the hell we'd catch for letting four more friends of the mayor disappear.”

The sky had cleared slightly but it was still cold. Mac reached into the backseat and grabbed his parka. Following the trail upwards a few hundred yards, Carillo took the lead at a wedding march pace so as not to miss a thing.

After about forty minutes Mac stopped to stretch his back and Carillo continued on. Surveying the vista, Mac vowed to get away from work more often and enjoy this slice of paradise that lay less than an hour from his condo in Edmonds. He sucked in the chill pure air and let his eyes wander the area, more to relax and regroup than to look for evidence.

Then he spotted something curious.

A couple of yards away, where the side slope met the flat trail, an out-of-place depression caught Mac's eye. Walking over, he saw it was a relatively fresh, scoop-shaped indentation about ten inches across. A small spring had softened the ground there and the base of the hole had filled with a quarter inch of water. He stared at it for a few moments, then looked up the slope.

Climbing away from the trail, he edged his way up the steep hill, his footing shaky over the mat of small bushes and fallen flora debris, forcing him to resort to all fours to maintain balance. In about five yards or so the ground evened out and paralleled the trail right below it. Mac walked along the level ground, looking for something. For what, he wasn't sure. But he'd know it if he…

Almost stepped on it. He jumped back as if he had come upon a rattlesnake. He refocused his eyes to make sure this was no trick, no illusion, that what he was seeing was really, truly there. This was not what he had been looking for. This was incomprehensible. Mac Schneider, formerly one of the toughest street detectives in the Los Angeles Police Department, a man who'd seen pretty much everything, shuddered. Instinct caused him to warily scan the forest. Then he looked back down at his discovery. The chill that ran through his body had nothing to do with the frigid air. He continued gazing at this thing, as if staring at it long enough might make it change into something he could accept. Until this moment Mac had surmised the scooped-out soil down below had been made by someone, a boot or shoe at an odd angle that might explain the size. But this?

Carillo was visually sifting the trail when he heard Mac call for him. Irritated, he waited until Mac called again before breaking his concentration to walk back down the trail.
Who knows? Maybe he's got something.

Carillo rounded the corner to find Mac crouched by the side of the trail, pointing at the ground.

“Hey, check this out.”

Carillo walked up and looked.

“What do you think that is?” Mac asked.

Carillo looked at the scooped depression in the soft ground at the trail's edge. He shrugged. “A hole?”

Mac motioned for Carillo to follow him. “C'mere.”

Carillo watched Mac climb the steep grade and shook his head. “This better be good.”

A few yards later Mac stopped and looked down at the level ground.

Carillo stepped up next to him and his eyes followed Mac's. “Fuck me.”

They were looking at what appeared to be a perfect, complete, humanlike footprint, but it was absolutely gigantic. Mac pointed at thick fir branches above them. “The trees shielded the rain. That's why it's still intact.”

Mac looked at a partial impression almost four feet away. “Looks like another one.”

Carillo quickly sized up their find. “It's a fucking fake.”

Carillo's words were almost a relief for Mac. For a few moments he had started to believe the unbelievable. Fortunately his partner was a man who possessed a blessedly narrow view of the world. Carillo was suspicious of everything and everyone and because of this simplified outlook could cut through a lot of bullshit and often hit the nail on the head. Mac liked that about Carillo and knew that it was a quality that made him a good detective. It also made him a bit dogmatic at times, but this was one of those times Mac welcomed his certainty. “You think?”

Carillo fixed Mac with a “What the fuck else could it be?” look. “So some jerk-off went to the trouble of making big, fake feet, but for what reason? This other track here?”

Carillo stepped over to the other, partial print, to make his point. “See? It looks like the guy was trying to make it look like whatever made this was really big but he slid or something…didn't make a complete impression. Too far to step and he lost it. Totally fake. I mean give me a fucking break.”

“Is this related to the hikers?” Mac asked.

Carillo's eyes analyzed the scene. “Shit…who knows? Another thing, we don't even know yet if these assholes are really missing. Do we?”

Mac stared at the print. “No. But if this is in some way related, then why? Like you said, what purpose would it serve?”

Mac knelt by the print while Carillo crouched to get a closer look. Mac pointed to the edge of the print. “It's fresh. Yesterday, tops.”

Carillo pushed the soil nearby with his fingertip and furrowed his brow. “How did they get it that deep?”

Mac shook his head. “Either way, we need to pull this, get a cast.”

Carillo looked at him. “You want to waste a forensic tech's time on this shit?”

“Do we have a choice? I mean it's right next to the trail and we've got no idea if it's related. Can we take a chance?”

“All right,” said Carillo,“but here's how we have to play this. We keep this quiet. If we have to bring in a CSI, then they keep their fucking mouth shut. If this turns out to be related, then maybe it's our ace in the hole, but the downside is it's kinda weird. I'd say we keep this tight, partly to avoid any shit from anybody. We tell Rice and Barkley, that's it.”

Mac nodded. “I agree.” Undersheriff Tom Rice and his boss, Sheriff Rick Barkley, were the only others who needed to know. Mac gathered some fallen branches and gently laid them over the impression to protect it. “Let's go.”

With Carillo leading they carefully descended the steep few steps to the trail. Despite Carillo's confidence that the footprint had been hoaxed, Mac reached in his jacket and touched his handgun for reassurance. Then he cast an eye on the woods around them.

Later, at the trailhead, Mac and Carillo found a milling crowd of about two dozen volunteer searchers. Someone had erected a Red Cross–style aluminum-framed shelter under which two women dispensed coffee, doughnuts, and other snacks. It looked like the group was just getting organized. To Mac and Carillo's surprise the four earnest rescuers from the night before were also present, considerably less fresh-pressed than they had been eleven hours before.

Mac approached Steve Keener, their ex officio leader. “Any luck?” he asked.

Keener shook his head, looking more downcast than tired. “Nope. Not a sign.”

“How did you guys get back here?” asked Mac. “We've been on that trail a few hours.”

Keener pointed to the peak above them. “Got to the top, then came back. Must've found a false trail in the dark. Ended up bushwhacking down the mountain when we got off trail. Lucky we didn't fall off the damned thing.” The bravado of the previous evening gone, he added, “We screwed up.”

Mac felt sorry for the guy. He came to save his friends and almost became a statistic himself. Mac stepped by, patting Keener's shoulder as he passed. “You got guts. Go eat.”

Mac noticed a distraught young woman who he assumed was Mitch Roberts's wife. She was speaking to some of his department's search and rescue members. Breaking into their conference, he introduced himself.

The rescue workers headed off to do their job and Mac spent the next twenty minutes questioning Karen Roberts. In his heart he hoped it was not an exercise in futility and did it mainly to allay her fears, at least for the time being. He understood that getting used to her husband's being gone would be a process better served by time. He certainly didn't mention what he and Carillo had seen above the trail.

Carillo and Mac hooked up after his chat with Roberts's wife and exchanged notes. While they talked, the Channel 7 news van arrived and the crew piled out. When Kris Walker alighted, Carillo tapped Mac's shoulder. “Go for it, tiger.”

Kris and Mac made eye contact and she headed toward him.

“Hi,” she said. “What's the latest? Any luck?”

“No, nothing. But now that it's daylight, hopefully the teams will find 'em soon. I'm told the choppers are on the way.”

Kris looked around, as if wanting to speak confidentially. “Can we talk? Over there?” she said in a lowered voice, pointing to a spot about ten yards from the growing group.

Mac nodded and they walked out of earshot. Kris turned to Mac, keeping her eye on the people in the background. “I don't think they'll find them.”

Her statement drew a curious expression from Mac.

“This kind of search,” she said,“is usually presupposed on the notion someone wants to be found, like they're hurt or something.”

She looked him straight in the eyes. “I've been thinking about this. I have a theory.”

Mac could not stifle his patronizing smile. “A theory? Don't hold back, I'm all ears.”

Kris ignored his amusement. She was working a carefully contrived plan. “Look, I've gotta do this report right now, then fly. Can we talk later? Tomorrow, maybe? I've got some ideas I want to bounce around.”

Kris had a feeling this might be a great story and she wanted to be the one to break it. She knew he was interested; she read men pretty easily. She also knew it was critical for her to gather more information to support her theory. She needed to know what he knew.

Mac knew she was trouble. Had he been happily married, he would have been less vulnerable and dismissed her advances. But he wasn't.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow. Call me.”

As they walked back to the crowd, she handed him her card.

“You're a busy guy. Call me when your schedule opens up. This has all my numbers and I wrote my home on the back.”

Kris walked away and Mac looked at her card. He doubted she wrote her home phone on all her cards and wondered when she'd written it in anticipation of giving it to him.

He sang softly to himself,“Eee-eevil…woo-man…”

By early afternoon, Mac and Carillo left the scene in the hands of search and rescue and went back to the department. Mac did some paperwork, then headed back into the mountains. He volunteered to go back to the scene to meet the forensics person since he knew her and was asking her for a favor. Back at the trailhead parking area Mac saw the same crowd milling around, then noticed an attractive Asian-American woman in her early thirties huddled in her Acura. She saw Mac approaching and got out.

“Hey, Suzy,” said Mac,“sorry I'm late.”

“No sweat,” she said. “What's with the cloak and dagger? You and Carillo running some kinda special operation? If Miller gets wind of this, I'm in the shit and so are you.”

“I appreciate you not telling anyone. Don't worry about Miller. Carillo and I'll clear it with the big man and he'll take care of Miller. You got your casting kit?” Mac asked.

She reached into her car and withdrew a tackle box and a paper sack. “I'm ready.”

“C'mon,” said Mac, gesturing toward the trail.

Suzy Chang was not only the department's assistant head of forensics and crime scene investigations, but Mac considered her a friend. A former Angeleno, she and Mac first bonded over their love of L.A. and the peculiarities of its culture. They climbed the trail past the searchers, reaching the point where Mac found the indentation.

Mac pointed at the caved-in trail edge. “What do you make of that?”

Suzy shrugged and crouched to examine it. “I don't know, could be several things.”

Mac pointed at the slope above them. “Follow me.”

They quickly reached the pile of branches Mac had used to cover the footprint. He picked them up and looked at Suzy. She stared for a moment, then her face clouded in anger.

“Goddamn it, Mac!” she said, looking around at the nearby woods. “Carillo!” she shouted. “Carillo! You're a dick!” She looked at Mac. “And you are too! I was going down to Edmonds, have brunch, watch the game. This isn't funny. Where's Carillo?” Again she yelled in no particular direction. “Okay, you can come out, Karl! And turn off your camera, you dick, the joke's over!”

She looked at Mac and his expression was even, perhaps slightly solemn. Suzy calmed down then fixed Mac with her gaze. He didn't flinch.