Walleye Junction (37 page)

Trailing her fingertips along the textured wallpaper, Emma climbed the stairs to the first-floor landing feeling increasingly apprehensive about what she'd find in Lucy's room. She needn't have worried. Caleb had left nothing to chance. Lucy's room had been stripped back to the floorboards. Everything that she'd once held dear was gone. Emma wandered down the hallway opening doors, but all she found were vacant rooms dotted with a few stray pieces of furniture. Emma saved the bathroom for last. It was the only room that hadn't changed at all. The claw-footed tub and the gilded bathroom mirror were exactly as Emma remembered.

Caleb had been out of town the night Lucy died. Earlier that same day Lucy had cornered Emma in the hallway of the high school between classes. It was clear that Lucy had taken drugs. She couldn't stand still. She'd grabbed hold of Emma with both hands. Her face was inches away. Her pupils were so big her eyes looked black.

Come to my house tonight,
she'd said.
Caleb's away. It will be like old times.

Emma had said she had other plans, but Lucy insisted.

Emma, please, this is important. You have to come.

Emma hadn't made it to Lucy's house until the next morning. After letting herself in the back door, she'd found a stream of water pouring through the living room ceiling. She'd opened the door to the upstairs bathroom thinking she'd find nothing more interesting than an overflowing toilet.

It was the first time Emma had seen a dead body.

Water lapped over the sides of the claw-footed bathtub. Lucy's lifeless hand rested on the side of the tub, palms up in a gesture of surrender. Her eyes were open, lips slightly parted. Her black hair drifted around her pale face like storm clouds. The note Lucy had written in lipstick on the mirror left no room for doubt. As far as Lucy was concerned Emma was to blame for not being there when she was needed most.

Emma, sometimes the heart breaks and the broken do not live on. You should have come when I called. Always yours, Lucy

Emma knelt down next to Lucy and felt for a pulse, but there was nothing. Lucy's skin was as cold as the bathwater. A line of bruised needle marks checkered her arm. A syringe balanced on the edge of the bath like a seesaw. Emma turned off the faucets and looked around the room. A candle Lucy had lit the night before had burned down to the base, and there was a good inch of water on the floor. For a long time Emma stood in front of the mirror rereading the note Lucy had left. Emma had known anger before, but never like this. Lucy had no right to blame someone else for something she'd so clearly done to herself. Emma opened the cabinet under the sink where the cleaning supplies were kept. She'd been careful to wipe clean any trace of Lucy's final words before phoning the police.

*   *   *

Emma retraced her steps through the farmhouse, turning off the last of the lights as she made her way into the kitchen. Halfway across the darkened room, she noticed a faint thread of light bleeding out from beneath the door to the basement. She opened the door and reached for the chain hanging down from the bare bulb above her head. Her father must have left the light on when he last came to check on the property. According to her mother and Nathan, he was the only one who'd been in the house recently. She was about to turn off the light when she noticed there were shoeprints marking the thick dust coating the narrow wooden steps going down into the basement. It dawned on Emma that Caleb's basement would have been the perfect place for her father to hide his journal. There was a distinct buzz as Emma flicked a switch at the base of the stairs and the rest of the lights flickered to life. About ten feet ahead there was a large metal cabinet. The footprints, presumably her father's, stopped right in front of it.

The cabinet door was secured with a padlock, which looked new. Emma sifted through the key ring until she found a key that fit. A large metal box sat alone on the empty shelves. She brought it out into the light and pulled open the lid. Alongside a handgun and a few cartridges there was her father's journal, a portable external hard drive, and a leather pouch containing several glassine bags stamped with a bull's-eye, a syringe, and other gear. She picked up her father's journal and flipped through it. One of the pages was folded back. She opened it to find a photograph of Lucy standing on the steps of Dot Whitaker's house. She was wearing shorts and a halter top. She blew the photographer a kiss. There was a digital time stamp in the corner. Emma's father had written some notes beneath the photograph.

Photo taken over Memorial Day weekend when Dot and the kids were away in Helena visiting family. I'm convinced Peter took the photo and he and Lucy spent at least two nights together up at the house, but I need more than this to prove he was supplying Lucy with drugs. Given the large stash of drugs found when she died, I'm convinced she was dealing on his behalf. Unsavory to consider, but very likely that he was supplying her with drugs for her personal use in exchange for sex. Lucy was an addict. I know from experience that she would have done just about anything for a fix. Must talk to Dot.

 

18

Gina slid onto the empty bar stool next to Macy. She was wearing a pair of slacks, a blouse, and a jean jacket. It was the first time in years that Macy had seen her out of uniform. Gina pushed her glasses up on her nose and picked up the wine menu.

“After spending the day in Missoula chasing down Kyle's friends I could really use a drink. Fancy ordering a bottle of red to share?”

“Don't be so negative. Missoula is nice.”

“Oh, I've got no issues with Missoula, but I wasn't in town. I was out in the hills with the rednecks. Kyle Miller runs in some interesting circles.” Gina flipped the wine menu over and traced her finger along the list of wines on offer. “I've spoken to the friends he was with the night Philip Long was murdered. Their stories line up.”

“Anything make you doubt they were telling the truth?” asked Macy.

“No, it all checked out.”

“How long has Kyle known them?”

“They met through some weekend retreat set up by Kyle's church last year.”

“Criminal records?”

“One served two years for beating his wife. Another has convictions for dealing. Nothing recent. They're all born-again Christians.” Gina put the menu down and took off her glasses. “Kyle was born on the wrong side of the tracks. Hanging out with deadbeats must come naturally to him.”

“I get the impression he has aspirations to rise above all that,” said Macy.

Gina waved at the bartender to get his attention.

“You may want to hold off on a whole bottle,” said Macy “I just got word that that rave Kristina has been planning is kicking off tonight somewhere in the Flathead Valley. The tech guys are tracking her social media activity. Once a phone number is posted they'll call in for the rave's location.”

“Maybe we'll get lucky and find Sean tonight. So far he and Kristina have been inseparable.” Gina swiveled her bar stool around and had a quick look at the barroom. “I'm starting to see why Kristina's raves are so popular. Friday evenings in Walleye are pretty dead.”

The bartender placed a pair of martinis in front of Gina and Macy and told them it was compliments of the gentleman sitting at the corner table. They both turned. Ryan Marshall tipped his large-brimmed cowboy hat in their direction.

Macy tried to keep a straight face. “Gina, it appears we have an admirer.”

“What's with the hat?” asked Gina.

“I think he's trying to blend in with the locals.”

“It's not working.”

“Should we go say hello?”

Gina picked up her glass. “One drink isn't going to hurt. It's going to be hours before we find out where that party is.”

“Just don't get sucked in,” said Macy. “My friend Ryan is a hangover waiting to happen.”

*   *   *

The heavily rutted track turned sharply to the right and within seconds dipped down into a dense pine forest. The headlights caught tree trunks and little else. It was pitch-black outside.

Macy checked the coordinates. “According to the GPS we're not even on a marked road.”

“Maybe we should double back,” said Gina. “We may have missed a turn.”

Macy pointed out the front window. “There, through the trees. Are those lights?”

The road dead-ended at a sagging chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. Gina killed the headlights.

“What is this place?” asked Gina.

They looked out over a mile of broken tarmac. Shrubs and grasses grew from the cracks. The rusted hulk of a twin-engine airplane was tipped on its side. One of its wings was snapped in two.

“It's an abandoned airfield,” said Macy, shutting the door and heading over to the fence for a better look.

The airplane hangar had been transformed into a nightclub. The big doors were open and people crowded into the floodlit interior. A sound system was positioned on a flatbed truck that had been parked in the middle of the building. Cars and pickup trucks were scattered across the runway. It looked as if some people were staying the night. Tents had been erected on a grassy area near the perimeter fence.

Gina squinted her eyes. “Looks like a few hundred people, but hard to tell how many are inside. I wonder how much she's charging per head.”

“The tech people didn't say.”

“We need to get in there and have a closer look,” said Gina.

Macy moved along the perimeter. “There's a break in the fence up ahead.”

The music was deafening. The ground beneath their feet vibrated. The airfield's gated entrance was to the north of the hangar. A line of cars waited to get in. Macy pointed to a bumper sticker on a pickup truck that was parked nearby—NO BETTER HIGH THAN A WALLEYE HIGH. Even though Gina was right next to her, Macy had to shout.

“What happened to the bumper stickers that said
my child is an honor student
?” said Macy.

Gina craned her neck to get a better look. “God this makes me feel old. There are more people here than I realized. How many, would you say?”

“I'd say close to a thousand.” Macy fiddled with the keypad on her phone. There was hardly any signal. “We'd better give Lou a call.”

“That's a big crowd. I imagine we'll need more than just Lou.”

“He's going to have to handle this carefully,” said Macy. “Someone could get hurt if the police come in too heavy-handed.”

“People will get hurt no matter what we do. Those kids look like they're tanked up on more than just warm keg beer. I'll go back to the car and radio it in. If you spot Sean or Kristina, come find me.”

Two girls emerged from the hangar and staggered toward where Macy was hiding. Oblivious to the cold night air, they only wore tiny denim shorts and crop tops. Every few steps they doubled over and went into hysterics.

“I'm going to pee my pants if you don't stop making me laugh.”

The shorter girl grabbed her friend's hand and dragged her toward some shrubs growing at the base of the chain-link fence.

“Let's go over there. No one will see us.”

“As long as there aren't any snakes.”

“Or bears.”

“Or perverts.”

They laughed again.

“Justin is so messed up. They carried him off somewhere.”

“He's such an idiot. Ket is nasty.”

“Got any more Molly?”

“That depends.” Another laugh. “Got any more money?”

Macy watched them walk away, their tiny shorts disappearing up their backsides. They couldn't have been more than sixteen. She turned in time to see Gina moving along the fence. She was barely visible beneath the overhanging tree branches. She squatted down next to Macy.

“Lou agrees that the first priority will be to keep these kids safe,” said Gina. “Events like this are pretty rare up this way. They're still learning how to deal with them.”

“By the time they've figured it out, kids will be doing something else.”

“The youth of today—”

“Are no worse than the youth of yesterday.”

“You speak the truth. I was a nightmare.” Gina checked the time. “How do you want to do this? Soft touch or not, when the cops show up those kids will scatter. If Kristina and Sean are in that crowd we'll lose them.”

“I'm going to head over and see if I can find them.”

“You're just going to walk in there?”

“I'm counting on them being too wasted to notice me,” said Macy.

Gina gestured to some low windows running along the western wall of the hangar. The side door was ajar. A man stood outside smoking a cigarette.

“That guy standing by the doors looks like security,” said Gina. “There will be more where he came from.”

“I know,” Macy said, tugging her hair out of its band and pulling it down around her face. She scowled like a teenager for Gina's benefit. “I'll do my best to blend in, and if that doesn't work, I'll run like hell.”

*   *   *

A group of youths in their late teens were gathered around a pickup truck. A petite girl with dark hair sat on the shoulders of the tallest boy. She had her eyes closed and was swaying back and forth to the music. Stripes of neon green and pink paint glowed on her cheeks. One of the boys caught sight of Macy and stepped into her path. Macy stumbled on purpose and laughed. Keeping her eyes focused on the middle distance, she pushed him aside and kept walking toward the hangar.

He asked her name.

Macy waved him off, but he followed her anyway.

“I'm looking for my friends,” she said.

Warm breath smelling of whiskey and cigarettes was right up against her ear.

“Maybe I can help,” he said. “Tell me their names.”

Macy took a chance. “Xtina and Sean.”

“You're not going to find them in there.” He pointed toward the cluster of tents and took hold of her arm. “That's where you want to go. I'll take you.”