Wolfwraith (21 page)

Steve Slocum drove by slowly, glanced at Shadow, then drove down to the E.E.C. and went inside. Half an hour later, Shadow realized this was one of those ‘hurry up and wait’ assignments he had come to know in the service. He walked over to the dock next to the E.E.C. After buying a drink from a soda machine outside the small equipment shed at the base of the pier, he sat with his back against the wall and began whittling on his latest carving, an osprey. This piece was nearly finished and the details of the carving were too fine for the large blade of his boatswain’s knife, so he used a small folding knife with a one-inch blade.

He went back over his conversation with Lorene again, and again. The more he thought about the murders, the less sense they made.

His thoughts were interrupted when Mark Wilson pulled up nearby and walked over.

“Hey, Shadow,” he said, buying a soda.

“Hey, Mark, what’s up?”

“My turn to be interviewed.”

“Is that what they’re up to?”

Mark took a swig of his orange soda. “Yep. Alex says they’re going to interview us one at a time, everyone who works in the park.”

“So everyone’s a suspect?” If that were so, Shadow wouldn’t feel quite so edgy.

“Hell, no. They only want to know what we might have seen in the park that night and previous day. They’re seeing Slocum first, since he found the bodies.”

Just then, Steve emerged from the E.E.C., got in his truck and drove away without acknowledging Mark and Shadow.

“Friendly cuss, ain’t he?” Mark said. “Well, it’s my turn; I better haul myself in there.”

As the morning progressed, Shadow saw Alex, several refuge wardens, two maintenance workers and Tony Jennings, the mechanic, go in. Jennings was scowling, as usual. There were also a couple of women he couldn’t place, but who seemed familiar. He assumed they were volunteers.

It surprised Shadow they’d called Jennings in. He worked for the park, sure, but he preferred his garage and rarely made the five-mile drive to False Cape.

Finally, a state police officer came for Shadow. He followed the man back into the environmental center and to a dining table. Seated were Detective Ericsson, an unknown man in a business suit, a uniformed officer, Lorene Walker and Special Agent Morrow.

Ericsson greeted Shadow professionally and identified the others at the table. The two unknown men were Sergeant Malloy of the Virginia Beach P.D. and another state police detective, Warren Moon.

Detective Moon, a thirty-ish, portly, red-cheeked man with a receding hairline conducted the interview. First, he covered Shadow’s finding of the first body, Cynthia Reedman, and his involvement in the search for the other missing girl—the one who had been found many days later. Then, the focus shifted to Amanda Gordon and he repeated the story of the pigs. Detective Moon seemed not to have any questions whether a pig might carry a human body part, saying many bodies had been discovered over the years by dogs digging up body parts or bones. This detective didn’t find it odd that a pig might scavenge on a human corpse. He even complimented Shadow on his tracking skills.

Finally, of course, Shadow was asked about the night Jonesy and Jenny were murdered. He stuck to his original story, since it was true, but left out what Marlene and Billie had been doing in their tent. He had heard a noise and investigated to be sure the girls were all right, that was all.

The girls must not have said much to the cops either, because questioning remained straightforward, although the detective went over each incident several times. He remained polite and professional, asking nothing that surprised Shadow until it came out of the blue. “Do you normally carry a knife, ranger?”

“Uh, yeah. A boats...a clasp knife.”

“May I see it, please?”

Shadow fumbled the knife out and handed it over to Moon, who opened it and examined it closely. He seemed to be checking the nooks and crannies for something. Blood? How did a knife enter into it?

Shadow wasn’t concerned about any crud on his knife. He kept it inspection-day clean. Oh shit, he suddenly thought, they might think I cleaned it so well because there’s been blood on it.

When the detective had finished checking it, he passed the knife to Morrow, who also examined it thoroughly. He handed it back to Shadow.

Then, while Shadow was still trying to figure out the angle, Moon got to the subject Shadow had been dreading.

“We checked into your background,” the agent said, “and found something disturbing in the custody proceedings of your recent divorce.” He looked directly into Shadow’s eyes. “You know what I’m talking about, I’m sure.”

“I can guess.” Shadow said.

“Your wife,” continued Morrow, “said you had inappropriately fondled your pre-teenage daughter.”

“I was accused of that, but it’s a lie.”

“Lie or not, we have to consider it. Look, Ranger, you’ve been living alone out here for months, without female companionship as far as we’ve been able to ascertain. That means you fit certain aspects of a profile we’re beginning to develop. We’ll be looking at every bit of your past, so it would be to your benefit to tell us anything, now, that we might dig up later.”

“There’s nothing.”

“What about your wife, Jessica?”

“What about her?”

“How old was she when you met her?”

Shit, how far back were they going? “Sixteen,” Shadow said with a sigh. “But she looked twenty—and said she was.”

“Nevertheless, you were what? Twenty-six or seven, having a sexual relationship with a sixteen year old? Didn’t you think to find out how old she actually was?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I never thought of it—I believed her.” He hadn’t either. After a few run-ins with girls who seemed to be interested in him because he was Native American, but not interested enough to have a serious relationship, perhaps for the same reason, he’d found Jessica refreshing. She didn’t seem to care a whit about his heritage and she didn’t, as he found out over time. She was interested in his money, even though a marine didn’t make much. At sixteen, she hadn’t set her sights very high.

“I’m about your age,” Morrow said. “Back then, we used to talk about underage girls being ‘jail bait.’ Are you familiar with the term?”

“Yeah. I heard it in the service a few times.”

“So why weren’t you more careful?”

“I told you—I just never thought about it.”

“Did this girl’s parents know about you?”

The tone angered Shadow. “It wasn’t just ‘this girl.’ She ended up becoming my wife. And, yes, her mother knew about it.”

“So what happened?”

“You know what happened since you’re asking this. She got pregnant.”

Ericsson looked up from his notebook, which he’d been writing in. “Why weren’t you prosecuted?”

“Because Jessica and her mother wanted me to marry her. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my government paycheck was their meal ticket—Jessica’s father had abandoned them long ago. We lived in the trailer with her mother for a couple of years, until we got our own place. Even then, I basically supported my mother-in-law.” He took a deep breath, slumped backward and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Do teen-age girls turn you on?” Morrow asked, surprising Shadow. “Do you like them young?”

Shadow could feel the blood rising to his face. “No! It wasn’t that way. You have to realize I was young, too. Jessica and I weren’t
that
far apart in age.”

“What about your daughter?”

Shadow rose and leaned across the table. “I told you. I never touched my daughter.”

“Your wife says you did. And your daughter said you touched her breast.”

Shadow slumped back down into his chair. “I know,” he said softly.

“Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know. Look, Ashley’s a great kid—she’d never lie—but maybe her mother convinced her. I swear, I never touched my daughter improperly; all I did was tickle her sides.”

Moon changed tactics. “Have you ever looked at pornography?”

“Of course I have. I was in the marines for twenty years. You don’t think some of the guys had some pretty raunchy magazines and movies in their lockers?”

“
Some
of the guys had them?”

“Yes.”

“But not you?”

“No.”

“But you looked at them?”

Shadow wished Lorene wasn’t at the table. He would have been a little more at ease if all the detectives were male.

“Well, yes,” he said. “A couple of times I borrowed a book or magazine from someone and looked through it. It was interesting for a while, because it was all new to me, I guess. But it was pretty embarrassing and I didn’t do it often.”

“How about child pornography?”

“No! Absolutely not.” Shadow glared at the man. “Why are you asking me these questions? I thought this was a murder investigation.”

“Of course it’s a murder investigation, but there are some sexual aspects to it.” He paused, and smirked as though he didn’t believe a thing Shadow had said. “So you’ve never looked at kiddy porn?”

“I told you. No. I’ve never even seen any.”

“Then you won’t mind if we take a look at your computer?”

Shadow grinned, despite his tension. “Go right ahead. I guarantee you’ll find nothing there.”

“Nothing? You’ve never looked at internet porn?”

“No. When I said you won’t find anything, it’s because I don’t own a computer. Never have.”

The detective looked truly surprised. “Oh? Why not? Everything’s done by computer now.”

“Not everything. I’ve never been interested anyway. I use the computer up at the contact station when I have to type a report or something, but that’s about it.”

“Okay, no crime in not owning a computer. That’s about it, I guess.” Moon began to shove his chair away from the desk, then stopped. “Oh, another thing. Would you be willing to take a lie detector test, if we need it?”

Shadow was caught by surprise. What should he do? If he said no, it would look like he had something to hide and he’d heard those tests weren’t always accurate; it depended on the questioner. As he hesitated, he became aware that Ericsson was watching his reaction closely.

“Uh...I guess so.” Should he get a lawyer? No, he had nothing to hide. “Look,” he said, “Detective Ericsson asked yesterday if he could have my house searched and I told him no. I’ve had some time to think about it—go ahead and search.”

Moon gave a hint of a smile. “That’s more like it, Ranger. We’re only doing our jobs. The more you cooperate, the quicker we can get to the bottom of this.”

“That’s what I want.” Shadow’s mind was reeling. Had he made a mistake? He wished he’d had more time to think about it.

“Good,” said Moon. “Because there’s one other thing we’d like you to do for us.”

“What’s that?”

“We’d like a DNA sample.”

“No problem.” Jesus, they were really going over him. At least DNA was more accurate than a polygraph; maybe it would help clear him. He hated needles, though.

A man came in with some sort of kit. Instead of obtaining a blood sample, he took a cotton swab and rubbed it around on the inside of Shadow’s cheek. Then, he broke the handle off the swab, sealed the sample inside a vial and filled out a label. The others at the table watched silently. Shadow felt like a bug under a microscope.

“That’s it,” Moon said. “Like I said, we appreciate your cooperation. That’ll be all for now. We might want to talk to you again in the near future, though.”

Shadow left the building and walked toward his house. He felt exhausted, even though it was just past noon. He’d take a lunch break, and then lie down for a bit, he decided.

When his head hit the pillow, he had a sudden thought. Since the hair had come from a wolf, why did they need a DNA sample? Lorene had said they had something other than the wolf hairs, and what did his knife have to do with it?

What if they’d found DNA on some clue in the Taj Mahal? He’d been standing in Jenny’s front yard last evening, what if he’d run his hand through his hair—it had been getting thinner lately—and some had dropped out? Knowing how thoroughly the crime scene had been scoured it would have been found. Suddenly he didn’t feel so confident he’d be cleared.

Chapter Fifteen

Who knows what that bird is up to?

After he’d eaten the sandwiches, Shadow drove to the contact station and checked his mail, which he’d neglected over the last few days. There were several cars parked out front, including Barnett’s, so Shadow was surprised the building was empty except for Betty and Mark Wilson. The door to Alex’s office stood open. Empty.

“Hi, Betty,” Shadow said as he passed Betty’s desk.

“Hi, Shadow,” she replied. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. He had obviously walked in on a conversation between her and Mark.

“Hey, Shadow,” said Mark. “The detectives finished with you?”

Shadow was glad the other man had spoken; he didn’t know what to say to Betty. “For now. I decided to come up for my mail. I’m not used to all this inactivity.”