Wolfwraith (22 page)

“Me, either. The only times they usually close the park is Christmas and New Year’s Day, and it’s pretty dead around here then anyway.”

“Where’s Alex?” Shadow asked. “I figured he’d be here with Barnett, since the commissioner’s car is out front.”

“They both went up to the refuge office. They’re coordinating with Warden Moorcock to make sure no one gets into the park. They’re closing the refuge too, from what I understand.”

“What about the North Carolina people with permits to pass through?”

“There’s a cop at the southern boundary, turning them back. The wardens are stopping them at the northern gate. They’ll have to drive down the outer banks and go around. It’ll add a couple of hours each way, so they’re really bitching about it.”

“I’ll bet,” Shadow said, imagining the anger of the permit holders, mostly older folks who tended to resent the park. “What are you up to?”

“I’m hanging around to make sure Betty is all right until Alex gets back. Then I’ll escort her through the refuge so she can go home. Alex doesn’t want her here until this is cleared up, so he’s giving her some time off.”

“Makes sense.”

“That’s what my husband says.” Betty grimaced. “I’m sure I’d be safe here in the contact station, but then again...”

“Yeah, better safe than sorry,” Shadow told her. “The cops think Jonesy was only killed because he was going to help Jenny. The killer seems to be going after women.”

“Thanks.” She gave a wan smile. “You sure know how to make a girl feel safe.”

“Er, sorry.” He raised his eyebrows at Mark. “Me and my big mouth.”

“What else is new?” Mark asked. “Look, Alex is going to take the commissioner out on the bay this afternoon. How about going down to the dock and making sure the sixteen footer is ready to go?”

Shadow raised his eyebrows. “That’s a switch. Barnett doesn’t usually go any farther into the park than Alex’s office—except during hunting season.”

“Who knows what that bird is up to? He said something about...”

A phone call interrupted, so Shadow got his mail—a statement from his bank and a letter from Ashley—and walked down the Barbour Hill dock. As much as he wanted to read his daughter’s letter right away, he’d better prep the boat first.

Later, when the boat was ready, he walked back to the contact station, noticing Alex’s pick-up was back, parked next to the commissioner’s car. He didn’t want to go into the office while Barnett was there, so he sat down in the tourists’ kiosk across the road to read Ashley’s letter.

He only had time to slit open the envelope with his boatswain’s knife when he heard, “Hello. Mr. Henderson? It’s Barnett.” The low voice came from behind him. At first, he was puzzled, then realized the other man was in the outhouse, a few feet behind the kiosk. Although slightly muffled, Shadow could make out the commissioner’s words.

“It’s Barnett!” came again, in a slightly louder voice. “We’ve got a bad connection. Can you hear me now?”

Shadow took Ashley’s letter out and unfolded it, trying to tune out the man’s voice. The commissioner ought to know better than to use a cell phone on the cape.

“Yeah, whoever told you is right,” Barnett said. “Two more murders; a volunteer and a park employee, but don’t worry about it. I’m out at the park now and everything’s under control.” He paused. “Yeah, I know, damn it, but think what these killings could do for us if we play our cards right. We can actually make it work to our advantage. We can tell the senators that...” A crow cawed several times nearby and Shadow missed a few words.

He forgot about the open letter in his hand. How could the murders benefit someone? What the hell was Barnett up to? He slid over on the bench, moving closer.

“Yeah, I’ve talked him about it. The park is not only under-utilized and a drain on the budget, we can’t even protect the tourists. How could he object to closing the place down when we put it that way?”

So it was about closing the park! Who was ‘he’? Shadow leaned back, straining to catch every word.

Barnett went on. “No, they have no idea who the killer is or why he’s singled out the park.” He immediately repeated himself, louder. “I said, they have no idea who the killer is or why he’s singled out the park.”

Several seconds passed with Barnett saying no more than “Uh-huh,” and “Right.” Then he spoke again. “I’ve told you before, don’t worry about the legislature. The governor has the authority to close any park he wants, but needs approval from the state senate. He’s been pulling strings and calling in old favors. He’s sure he has enough votes in his pocket; not many lawmakers want to come out against any so–called budget cut with the deficit so bad. You make sure you’re all set to move when it happens, that’s all. Is everyone bought out?” There was a long pause, then, “If it’s only the one guy holding out, you’ll just have to convince him.”

Convince who? Another mysterious “ him”—although Shadow now guessed the first one was the governor. Barnett’s next words gave no clue.

“Look, we’ll take care of closing the park. The rest is up to you. If he won’t come around, you’ll have to make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Another pause, then the commissioner laughed. “No, we’re still looking at the same timetable. After the fall session of the legislature, False Cape Park is history.”

Helen Parsons had been correct and it sounded to Shadow like someone was going to be muscled into something, or worse.

“Look, you do what you need to do,” Barnett said, “but be sure you show your gratitude when it’s all over.”

Shadow presumed gratitude translated to money.

“That’s right, Mr. Henderson. Okay, I’ll tell the governor. Goodbye.”

Suddenly Shadow realized the commissioner would be coming out any second, and Barnett couldn’t miss his least favorite ranger sitting in the open shelter. Hearing the door’s hook-and-eye released inside the outhouse, he quickly stuffed Ashley’s letter into his pocket and took several steps out into the road, moving quietly. Then, he turned completely around and strode toward the side of the kiosk, as though he were hurriedly on the way to the outhouse.

He heard Barnett’s footsteps coming down the short, wooden ramp to the road and managed to time it so they nearly collided at the corner of the kiosk.

“Oh, sorry, Commissioner,” he said, hastily stepping around the other man as though he had no time to waste. He rushed up the ramp and yanked the door open, hoping to convey a sense of emergency. Once inside the outhouse, he latched the door and leaned back against it for a moment. Then, worried the other man might be standing outside, suspicious, Shadow unzipped his fly and forced himself to urinate in a splashing stream.

Chapter Sixteen

Isn’t that somewhat cynical?

Afterward, Shadow walked over to the contact station, trying to act normally, wondering if the commissioner suspected he’d been overheard. Fortunately, Shadow had to maintain his pose for only a few minutes, because Alex and the commissioner soon left. Shortly after, Mark departed to escort Betty through the refuge, leaving Shadow to man the phones and headquarters radio.

Once alone, he took a piece of paper from Betty’s desk and wrote down everything Barnett had said, afraid he might forget details.

He considered the implications of what he had heard. Barnett had seemed pleased about the killings, looking at them as an excuse to close the park. Why the hell was he and the governor so set on that? Who was Mr. Henderson, and who was going to get “an offer he can’t refuse?” Although Barnett’s words had not hinted of any involvement in the killings, he didn’t seem to mind using them to his advantage and had apparently sanctioned the use of force or coercion—or worse—against someone. Why? Could this tie in with the murders in some fashion? Somehow, he had to find out.

Of course! Helen Parsons. Her boss had assigned her to look into the matter.

He took her card from his wallet and called her cell phone. She didn’t answer, so he left a voice-mail message for her to call him at home. He felt much better, as if he’d enlisted an ally.

Remembering his daughter’s letter, he took it out. It was dated two weeks before; Ashley usually put off mailing anything to her father until she could get to the post office, since a couple of her letters had never reached Shadow. His wife—ex-wife, he reminded himself—had probably thrown them away.

The brief note was of the usual sort, mentioning school activities, her latest report card and the like. She also mentioned she was excited because her stepfather would soon be taking the family to Hawaii for two weeks.

Shadow put it in his shirt pocket. It would go in the drawer with her other letters when he got home.

He heard the crunch of tires outside and saw Helen Parsons pulling up in an SUV with a
Virginian Pilot
logo on the door. No wonder she hadn’t answered her cell phone; it probably wouldn’t work in the park.

There was someone in the car with her, a young black man. Shadow got up and walked out to the porch.

“Good morning,” Helen said as she and the man came up the steps. “This is Darrin Rogers, a photographer who works with me now and then. Darrin, meet Shadow Fletcher, one of the rangers.”

Shadow and Darrin shook hands.

“We mainly stopped to use the men’s room,” Helen explained. “It’s over there behind that little building, Darrin.” She pointed and the photographer ambled toward the outhouse.

“Surely you didn’t get my voice mail already?” Shadow asked.

“You called me? My phone should have beeped if I have voice mail.” She took her phone out and looked at it. “Nothing.” She put it away and looked back to Shadow. “Do you have something about the murders?”

“No, it’s not about the killings—I don’t think. I overheard Commissioner Barnett talking on the phone about closing the park.” He went on to relate the conversation. “I wrote down what I remember,” he concluded, handing her the paper. “I didn’t know I’d see you so soon and I was afraid I might forget some detail or other.”

“Thanks,” she said, glancing at it before putting it in a pocket. “I know a reporter in Richmond who knows everybody who knows anybody. If this guy, Henderson, is a wheeler-dealer, my friend will know him, or at least somebody who does.”

“But why would the governor want to close the park?”

“Maybe I’m being petty, but I’ve never seen our esteemed governor as the type to pass up a fast buck. This piece of real estate you call a park is probably pretty valuable. Acres and acres of land with beach and bay access would grow multimillion-dollar vacation homes with enough green fertilizer.”

Shadow shook his head. “No, that can’t be it. We’re closed in on four sides. The bay’s on the west, the ocean on the east, there’s no northern access because of the refuge, and no road coming up through North Carolina. Even if they built a good road, there’s nothing down there for miles and miles. It’s the long way around from anywhere.”

Helen thought for a moment. “Yeah, I see your point. North Carolina isn’t about to spend millions of dollars for a road to a development that wouldn’t net them a cent in real estate taxes. Remember what I said about ‘green fertilizer?’ If there’s enough money in something, some politicians will find a way to get their share.”

“What do you think Barnett meant by ‘an offer he can’t refuse?’”

“Hell, it could mean anything. It’s just a corny line from an old movie. It doesn’t necessarily imply force; it could be an offer of a shitload of money.”

“You seem to think everything revolves around money. Isn’t that somewhat cynical?”

Helen’s eyes widened as she looked at him, then she grinned. “Shadow, you need to get out in the big wide world now and then. Like in the song, money really does make the world go ‘round.”

“But what about the killings? Could the park closing have anything to do with them?”

Helen lost her grin. “If there’s enough money involved, I wouldn’t be surprised. Then again, the people who were killed wouldn’t have anything to do with goings-on in the capital, as far as I can see. Anyway, thanks for the information. I’ll check it out and get back to you.”

Shadow felt guilty. Helen still didn’t know the Gordon woman had her throat mutilated, not to mention the wolf angle. “Listen,” he said. “I’ve got something for you. They interviewed the park staff and took DNA samples. I’m pretty sure they have some kind of physical evidence.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Hmmm, thanks, Shadow. Do you know how the cops got the guy’s DNA?”

“I’m not sure.” Shadow noticed the cameraman returning from the outhouse. “Another thing. They checked my knife, and I found out they checked the other ranger’s knives, too.”

Helen smiled warmly. “Thanks, Shadow. That’s a big help. Maybe I can use that information to get a little more out of my contacts.”

Shadow was glad he had given her something, but was still uneasy about keeping the rest a secret. “Maybe I could take you out to dinner or something, sometime—for all your help.”

“Sure, I’d like that. Call me.”

As she walked back to her vehicle, Shadow stood dumbfounded at his own action. He hadn’t asked a woman out in many years.

Chapter Seventeen

Would you like a drink?

Two days later, returning from Jonesy’s funeral, Shadow drove through the wildlife refuge. He’d ridden in a van with the other rangers to the church and then the cemetery, but they’d separated at the Little Island parking lot. A couple of state police officers, assigned to help the rangers patrol the park and beaches, had watched over False Cape while all the rangers were gone. Why bother, Shadow thought, there are no hikers or campers to protect.