Whispers of the Dead (26 page)

photograph of York appeared on the screen, but Paul was already
grabbing for his phone. It rang before he could dial a number. Gardner, I thought, and saw my guess confirmed in Paul's expression.
'Have you found her?' he demanded.
I watched him slowly deflate at Gardner's answer. In the silence I
could hear the TBI agent's voice, tinny and indistinct. Paul listened,
his face tortured and intent.
'And you let me hear about it on TV? For God's sake, you said
you'd call when you had any news... I don't care, just call me, OK?'
He hung up. He stood with his back to me, bringing himself
under control before he spoke.
'They found the ambulance half an hour ago at a picnic spot close
to 1-40,' he said dully. 'They think York abandoned it and stole a car
before he got to the Interstate. That'd take him halfway across North
Carolina. Unless he headed west. He could be on his way to New
Mexico by now. He could be anywhereV
The phone shattered as he hurled it against the wall, scattering
plastic across the room.
'Jesus Christ, I can't stand this! What am I supposed to do? Just sit here?'
'Paul--'
But he was already heading for the door. I hurried after him into
the hallway.
'Where are you going?'
'To see the ambulance.'
'Wait a second. Gardner--'
'Screw Gardner!' He started to open the front door. I put my hand
on it. 'Get out of my way, David!'
'Just listen, will you? If you go out now you'll have TV crews trailing
you all the way there. Is that what you want?'
That stopped him.
'Is there a road at the back?' I went on quickly, while I had his
attention.
'This one loops around the houses there, but I can't--'
'I'll get my car. The press won't follow me, but it'll distract them.
You go out the back and cut across the gardens, and I'll meet you
round there.'
He didn't want to, but he could see the sense of what I was saying.
Reluctantly, he nodded.
'Give me a couple of minutes,' I told him, and went out before he
could change his mind.
Sunlight slapped my face when I stepped outside, dazzling me. I
made straight for the car, trying to ignore the sudden clamour my
appearance had sparked. The press surged forward, a wall of cameras
and microphones, but their excitement was short-lived. 'That isn't
Avery,' someone said, and it was as though someone had flicked a
switch. A few half-hearted questions were fired at me, but interest
quickly waned when I didn't answer. The attention of the TV crews
and reporters was already back on the house as I climbed into the car
and drove away.
The road meandered round in a slow curve before doubling back
on itself behind Sam and Paul's house. The street here was empty,
except for Paul. He ran over as I pulled up, and had the door open
before the car had even stopped.
'Go back to the main highway and head for the mountains,' he
said, out of breath.
No trailing press cars followed us as we left the development. The
route was signposted once we reached the highway. Apart from
the occasional terse direction from Paul, we drove in silence. The
mist-shrouded Smoky Mountains loomed up on the horizon ahead
of us. The sight of them stretching into the distance was sobering,
bringing home the impossible scale of any search.
The sun was high overhead, warm enough to pass for a summer's day. After a few miles I had to use the screen wash to clear the glass
of dead insects. The tension in the car grew as we reached the
foothills and drove through Townsend. It wasn't far from here where
York had clipped the car and hit a tree. A few miles past the town we
came to a tall oak by the roadside that had been ringed with police
tape. The jagged white gouges in its bark were clearly visible. Paul
stared at it as we drove past, his face bleak.
Neither of us spoke.
A few miles further on, he directed me to branch off the highway
and we began to climb into the mountains. They rose up around us,
plunging the road in and out of shadow as it wound through them.
We saw a few other cars but it was still too early in the season for
there to be many. Spring was everywhere. The woods were carpeted
with wild flowers, blue, yellow and white dappling the vibrant new
grass. At any other time the Appalachian beauty would have been
breathtaking; now it seemed like a cruel joke.
'Take the next right,' Paul told me. The turn-off was a narrow road,
gravelled like many of the minor roads and tracks out here. This one
was steep enough to have the car's automatic transmission straining.
After a half-mile it levelled out. We rounded a bend and found our way
blocked by a patrol car. Beyond it, I could make out wooden picnic
tables and parked police vehicles before trees blocked the view.
I wound down the window as a uniformed deputy approached the
car. He looked barely out of his teens, but walked with an older
man's swagger. He stared down at me from under the wide brim of
his hat, one hand on his holstered gun.
'Back up.Y'all cain't come up here.'
'Can you tell Dan Gardner that Dr Hunter and--' I began, and
then I heard the passenger door open. I looked round to see Paul
climbing out of the car. Oh, Christ, I thought, as the young deputy
scrambled to head him off.
'Hold it right there! Goddammit, I said stop!'
I hurried out of the car after them, grabbing hold of Paul as the
deputy planted himself on the track in front of him and drew his
sidearm. I'd never realized how much I disliked guns until then.
'OK, it's OK,' I said, pulling Paul back. 'Come on, take it
easy!'
'Back in the car! Now!' the deputy yelled. He gripped the gun in
both hands, pointing it at the ground between us.
Paul showed no inclination to move. In the bright sun his eyes
didn't look fully focused. He couldn't touch York, but the need for
confrontation was consuming him. I don't know what might have
happened, but at that moment a familiar voice rang out.
'What the hell's going on?'
I never thought I'd be glad to see Gardner. The TBI agent was
striding down the track, tight-lipped. The deputy glared at Paul, gun
still outstretched.
'Sir, I told them they cain't come up here, but they won't--'
'It's all right,' Gardner said, but without enthusiasm. His suit
looked more crumpled than ever. He spared me a cold glance before
addressing Paul. 'What're you doing here?'
'I want to see the ambulance.'
It was said in the inflectionless tone of someone whose mind is
made up. Gardner considered him for a moment, then sighed.
'It's this way'
We followed him back up the track. The picnic area was set on a
grassy clearing overlooking the foothills. They spread out below us,
miles of tree-covered peaks and troughs: a frozen ocean of green. This
high up the air was cooler but still warm, sweet with pine and spruce.
At one side of the clearing the police vehicles were clustered in front
of a handful of civilian cars.
Parked slightly away from them, quarantined by crime tape, was
the ambulance.
Even from a distance I could see the damage caused by the
collision. Parallel gouges ran along one side, and the left wing had
crumpled like tinfoil where it must have hit the tree. Small wonder
it had been abandoned;York had been lucky to get as far as he had.
Paul stopped at the police tape and stared into the back of the
ambulance. Its doors hung wide open, revealing shabby bunks and
cabinets. A forensic agent was busy inside, and we could see restraining
straps dangling from one of the bunks, as though they'd been
hurriedly flung off.
I felt someone beside me, and turned to find Jacobsen. She gave
me a solemn look. There were dark smudges under her eyes, and I
guessed Paul and I weren't the only ones who had gone without
sleep.
Paul's face was a mask. 'What have you found?'
He didn't seem to notice Gardner's slight hesitation. 'There were
blond hairs on the bunk. We'll need to check them against samples
of your wife's hair, but we don't think there's much doubt. And it
looks like York must have taken quite a knock in the collision.'
He led us round to the front. The driver's door was hanging so we
could see into the grubby and well-worn interior. The steering
wheel was buckled and skewed slightly to one side.
'Chances are York's pretty banged up himself if he smacked the
wheel hard enough to do that,' Gardner said. 'Must've busted a rib or
two, at least.'
For the first time something like hope showed on Paul's face. 'So
he's injured? That's good, isn't it?'
'Maybe.' Gardner was non-committal.
Something in his tone sounded off, but again Paul was too
preoccupied to notice. 'I'd like to stay here for a while.'
'Five minutes. Then you need to go on home.'
Leaving Paul there, I walked away with Gardner and Jacobsen. I
waited until we were out of earshot.
'What aren't you telling him?'
Gardner's mouth compressed, but whatever he might have said
went unspoken as someone called him from the crime scene truck.
'You might as well let him know,' he told Jacobsen before walking
away, the line of his back as uncompromising as ever.
The shadows under Jacobsen's eyes added to her solemnity.'There
are bloodstains in the ambulance. On the bunk and on the floor.'
I pictured Sam as I'd last seen her. Oh, dear God. 'Don't you think
Paul's got a right to know?'
'Eventually, yes. But not all of the stains are fresh, and we can't say
for sure that any of them belong to his wife.' Her gaze flicked to
where Paul maintained his vigil by the ambulance. 'Dan doesn't think
knowing about it is going to help him right now.'
I reluctantly accepted that. I didn't like keeping information from
Paul, but his imagination would be torturing him enough already.
'How did you find the ambulance?' I asked.
She brushed back a strand of hair that had strayed over her face.
'We got a report of a stolen car, a blue Chrysler SUV. There are
rental cabins about a quarter of a mile away but they don't have a
road. Tenants leave their cars here and hike up the rest of the way.
That's probably why York chose this place -- even this early in the
season there are usually one or two cabins rented out. Anyone familiar
with this area would know there'd be cars here.'
I looked over at the damaged ambulance. It had been left out in
the open, a few yards from a thick clump of laurel bushes. 'York
didn't make much effort to cover his tracks.'
'He didn't have to. Cars can be left here for days while their
owners play at pioneers. York could bank on the one he took not
being missed till this morning at least, and maybe even longer. It was
pure luck that the owner noticed when he did.'
Luck. It wasn't something we'd had much of so far. 'I'd have
thought he'd at least have parked it so the damage was less obvious.'
Jacobsen gave a tired shrug. 'I expect he had more important
things to think about. He'd got to get Samantha Avery into the car,
and that can't have been easy if he was injured himself. Hiding the
ambulance would have been the least of his problems.'
That made sense, I supposed.York only needed it to remain undiscovered
long enough to get where he was going. After that it
wouldn't matter.
'You think he was heading for the Interstate?' I asked.
'That's how it looks. It's only a few miles away, and from there he
could go deeper into the mountains, double back west or head for
another state.'
'So he could be anywhere.'
'Pretty much, yes.' Her chin came up. She looked over towards the
ambulance where Paul was standing. 'You should take him home.
This isn't doing anyone any good.'
'He shouldn't have had to find out about it from the TV
She nodded, accepting the implied rebuke. 'Dan was going to call
him as soon as he had time. But we'll let Dr Avery know straight
away if there's any more news.'
I noticed she said if, not when. The longer this went on the less
chance there was of finding Sam.
Not unless York wanted us to.
I went back to Paul as Jacobsen joined Gardner at the crime scene
truck. He cut a forlorn figure by the ambulance, staring at it as
though it might help him divine the whereabouts of his wife.
'We should go now,' I told him gently.
All the fight he'd shown earlier seemed to have burned out of him.
He looked at the ambulance for a second or two longer, then turned
his back on it and walked with me to the car.
The young deputy gave Paul a hard stare as we passed him on the
track, but it was wasted. Paul didn't seem aware of anything as we left
the picnic area behind. We'd gone several miles before he spoke.
'I've lost her, haven't I?'
I searched for something to say. 'You don't know that.'
'Yes I do. So do you. So did everyone back there.'The words were
spilling out of him now like water from an overfull cup.'I keep trying
to remember what I said to her last. But I can't. I've been going
over and over it in my mind, and there's nothing there. I know it
shouldn't bother me, but it does. I just can't believe the last time I
saw her was so ordinary. How can I not have known?'
Because you never do. But I didn't say that.
He lapsed into silence. I stared numbly at the road ahead. Dear
Christ, don't let this happen. But it already had, and the silent woods
offered no relief. Insects bobbed through the broken columns of sunlight,
insignificant specks beside giant oak and pines that had stood
here since long before I was born. A slender waterfall tumbled
through a cleft in the hillside, foaming white over dark rocks. We
passed fallen trunks covered in moss, others being slowly choked by
vines while they still stood. For all its beauty, everything that lived
out here was in a constant fight to survive.
Not everything succeeded.
I'm not sure when I became aware of my unease. It seemed to
come from nowhere, announcing itself first as a prickling on my
forearms. I looked down and saw the hairs on them were standing
up; a similar tickling told me those on the back of my neck had
started to rise as well.
As if only waiting for that, the disquiet bloomed into a clamouring
sense of urgency. I gripped the steering wheel. What? What's
wrong? I didn't know. Beside me Paul still sat in haunted silence. The
road ahead was clear and empty, dappled with sunlight and shadows
from the trees. I checked the rear-view mirror.There was nothing to
see. Behind us the woods unrolled with indifferent monotony. But
the feeling persisted. I glanced in the mirror again, and jumped as
something hit the windscreen in front of me with a dull slap.