Текст книги "Hunting Eve"

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

CHAPTER

6

Goldfork, Colorado

THE SUN WAS GOING DOWN when Kendra pulled up in front of the small house in a suburb that seemed to be composed of similar houses on every street. It had taken her almost as long to drive from the Denver Airport to Goldfork as it had to fly all the way from Atlanta. The town was located in a rural area just an hour from the Wyoming border, and it seemed an ordinary town and the people she saw on the streets also very ordinary. A typical American town in the beautiful state of Colorado.

It went right along with the story Joe had told her about Doane and his five-year stay in this safe house. He had taken on the coloration of the place and his neighbors like a chameleon and lulled everyone into thinking he was a good guy and good neighbor and not the psychopath he had hidden so well.

A young, uniformed police officer stood in front of Doane’s house, leaning against his gold-and-white patrol car. He waved her toward a patch of gravel that had obviously been used as a parking lot for other vehicles in the previous few days. Kendra stopped her rental car and climbed out. She took a deep breath, taking in the aroma of dozens of plants in the subalpine woods surrounding the subdivision.

“May I help you?” The officer stepped toward her.

“I’m Kendra Michaels. I was told you’d be expecting me.”

“Yes, ma’am. Can I see your badge or official ID?”

She showed him her California driver’s license. “I’m afraid this is as official as it gets.”

He checked her name against a list in a pocket notebook. “Thank you. They told me you’d be coming.” His smile revealed a front tooth that was a shade browner than the others. “I’m Officer Tim Rollins, Goldfork PD. I was told to extend every courtesy to you.”

“Police? Isn’t this an FBI investigation?”

“It is. We’re just providing assistance and support to secure the scene.”

“Have there been a lot of people through here?”

“Yes, ma’am. Pretty near every forensics specialty, K-9 units, bomb squad, you name it.”

“Did they find anything?”

“I don’t think so. I heard more than one agent say it was a waste of time to come here.”

“Just what I need to hear after eight hours of traveling.”

“Maybe you’ll do better.” He handed her a pair of evidence gloves and two disposable polypropylene surgical shoe covers. “Please put these on to avoid contaminating the scene.”

“Sure.” Kendra smiled as she pulled the booties over her shoes. “Boy or girl?”

“Ma’am?”

“Your baby. Boy or girl?”

He hesitated before replying. “Boy. Five months.”

“Congratulations. How successful have you been keeping him on an organic diet?”

“That’s my wife’s thing, not mine.” He wrinkled his brow. “Do you mind if I ask you how—”

“There’s a bright orange spot on your belt buckle of a shade and texture of Gerber’s baby food organic carrots. No artificial coloring or flavoring, or added starch or salt, which gives it a different appearance and odor than other foods. And your child spit up on your left shoulder when you were holding him this morning.”

He pulled on the shoulder of his uniform shirt. “Aw, man. I thought I got it all off.”

“You did. I can’t see it.”

“Then how did you—”

“I can smell it. Don’t worry, I don’t think most other people can. He spit up his formula, but it’s a brand I’m not familiar with.”

“Parent’s Choice.”

“Thanks. I’ll remember that.” That inability to place it had been bugging her since she had gotten close enough to the officer to detect the scent. It had been the only reason she had bothered to initiate the baby questions. She usually avoided the necessity for explanations if she could do it.

The officer half smiled. “Why would you remember something like that?”

“Because that’s what I do.”

She pulled on the gloves and walked over the stone pavers to the front door. The house was nestled in a thick clump of trees, almost as if the space had been hollowed out for the two-story structure. Kendra opened the front door and stepped inside.

Her first impression was that the house was very dark, despite the fact that every lamp and light fixture was turned on. The dense foliage outside blocked most of the sunlight, and the dark brown walls kept light reflections to a minimum. The dark Brazilian wood floors leached much of the remaining illumination.

She had read much of Doane’s case file at the Atlanta Airport and knew that he lived alone. Indeed, there were none of the subtle clues that indicated there was more than one sensibility at work in the décor and arrangement of personal items.

The half-open drawers and slightly askew furniture were easy tip-offs of other recent searches of the house; but otherwise, things seemed to be in order.

Perhaps in too much order, she thought. As she glanced through the drawers, there was no mail, personal papers, or anything that left behind any real imprint of the man who had lived there. Did he really live this way, or had he deliberately swept away his footsteps behind him?

She climbed the narrow wooden stairs to the upper level, which contained only two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a loft area that overlooked the main floor. Doane had obviously used the loft as an office, with a desk, keyboard, printer, copier, and a stand for what probably held a laptop computer. Either Doane had taken it away himself, or the Feds’ computer forensics teams were combing the hard drives in a lab.

Kendra walked into the master bedroom, which was furnished only by a bed, a chest of drawers, and a television cabinet. Kendra tugged on the front door of the TV cabinet and peered inside.

No TV. Something else.

She swung the door open wide and just stared for a long moment. Instead of a television set, the cabinet held a veritable shrine. Centered in the middle was a large portrait of a young, handsome man with the coldest eyes Kendra had ever seen. It had to be Kevin, Doane’s son. The picture had obviously been taken during Kevin’s military career. Surrounding it were news clippings, military badges, and award certificates, some dating all the way back to high school.

Kendra found herself recoiling at the sight of Kevin’s flashing smile and those blue eyes that should have been attractive but were instead glittering with a kind of icy arrogance. It wasn’t just because she’d been told what he had done, she realized. There was something intrinsically evil about that face, that expression.

Shake it off.

She had come face-to-face with bad people before, people capable of the most horrifying atrocities. Why should this simple photograph inspire anything other than revulsion?

Yet it did. And she was fiercely relieved that Kevin was no longer alive to inflict pain and suffering on so many children and their families.

But as long as his father was out there with Eve as his captive, Kevin’s horrible legacy would continue.

Detach. Scan. Analyze.

Her eyes flicked from one item to the next, trying to pick up anything that could help complete the father/son picture forming in her mind. Kevin had been left-handed, like his father. They had vacationed at least three times in Salt Lake City, twice in some ghost town, and Kevin never owned anything other than an American-made car. Doane dabbled as a carpenter, farmer, and auto mechanic, and his son was an amateur musician, a guitarist, probably self-taught and not very good, judging from the placement of his hands. Both were avid hunters and fishermen and comfortable with firearms. The son favored handguns, the dad liked rifles.

She studied the display a moment longer. There had to be something more here. Maybe in one of the photos, the newspaper stories or—

The cabinet itself. It was something Doane had probably made himself, she realized. It was similar in style and construction to pieces shown in photos of Kevin’s home, including a coffee table Doane gave him on his birthday. Both featured a signature flourish of Doane’s, a lathe-cut spiral design on the corners.

This cabinet appeared relatively new, Kendra thought. Where had he made it? She hadn’t seen a workshop. Had he rented a place somewhere?

She closed the cabinet door, happy finally to be hiding Kevin’s face from view. She stepped into the closet and immediately realized that a small suitcase had been taken, judging from the footprint left on the dusty floor. She scanned the hanging clothes, taking special notice of the few empty hangers. Doane had probably taken enough clothing to last him for at least a week.

She left the room and descended the stairs, this time stopping to look out the tall windows that lined the back of the house.

There, in the distance, was what appeared to be a small toolshed.

Which might be the answer as to where Doane carried out his woodworking projects. She reached the bottom of the stairs and quickly exited the back door. She crossed the large unfenced backyard and approached the toolshed, which was actually larger than it had appeared from the house. It was almost the size of a one-car garage though there was no easy automobile access on the uneven ground.

Kendra stopped. The toolshed’s latch had been recently broken, and the door was ajar. The FBI’s handiwork? Possibly, but not likely. The FBI was much more efficient. It would have been a simple matter to cut the lock, which was how they usually handled a padlocked door.

She pulled open the door. It groaned on its weather-beaten hinges.

She felt inside for a switch, flipped up, and …

Nothing. No power, or the bulbs were shot.

Fine. She was comfortable in the darkness. Sometimes she still preferred it. And she had her phone’s illuminated screen to help her.

She turned on her phone, which gave her a view of only a few feet ahead of her. Her footsteps echoed enough to let her know that the structure was largely empty, with perhaps a few scattered pieces.

Up ahead. A shadow on the right. Table saw. Next to it, a short stack of lumber.

She squinted and made out a series of saw blades hanging on a peg board.

Something moved in the corner.

She stopped short.

A rodent? No, bigger.

Breathing. Low, rhythmic.

Not an animal.

Human.

Kendra switched off her phone and quickly moved several paces to the right.

More movement. Footsteps.

Heading toward her.

Kendra called out. “Who’s there?”

The footsteps drew closer.

Kendra stooped and picked up a large, wooden dowel. “Stop, or I’ll blow you away.”

The footsteps stopped. But the quiet, shallow breathing was even clearer now.

Kendra’s hand tightened on the dowel. “What are you doing here? Who in the hell are you?”

A woman’s soft voice. “Kendra?”

Kendra went still. That voice … She’d heard it before.

“Kendra Michaels?”

Kendra lowered the dowel. She hesitated for a moment, then abruptly switched on her phone and thrust it forward.

The first thing she saw was that luminous smile.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Margaret Douglas?”

Margaret nodded.

Kendra was trying to get her breath as she shook her head in disbelief as she pulled her phone back. “How on Earth … Why?”

“The same reason you’re here. I promised Jane that I’d try to take her place while she was vegetating in that hospital.” Margaret giggled. “Did you really think you were going to blow me away with that dowel?”

“I thought a bluff might send an intruder running.”

“It could have worked, I guess.” Her smile widened. “I wish you could see your face. I got the impression you didn’t surprise easily. I guess I was wrong about that.”

“No, actually you’re right. Which should give you some idea about how shocked I am to see you.”

“Which, I suppose, makes you more suspicious of me than ever.” Margaret moved back toward the rear corner of the toolshed. “Aim that phone this way, okay? There’s a light switch back here.”

Kendra held up the phone and lit the way for Margaret to reach a long workbench, where she flipped a switch and turned on a fluorescent hanging fixture.

Margaret spun around to face her. “Much better, don’t you agree? I had this light on until I heard you coming. I thought you might be a policeman or an FBI agent.”

“I’m still not sure how you knew where Doane’s car was in that lake, but I’ve seen no evidence to indicate you’ve been lying about who you are and where you come from.” She added dryly, “At least, in the short term. However, no one seems to know much about you before you showed up on Summer Island, where you ran into Jane. So the jury is still out. But Joe Quinn is no fool, and he appears to have a tentative trust in you.”

“Good.” Margaret nodded. “Tentative trust is better than no trust.”

“You have Quinn’s trust, Jane’s trust, and you don’t have even a smidgen of that commodity from me.”

“That’s okay, we’ll work through it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, we both have the same objective. I don’t care if you trust me or not. I’ve been through all that before. I respect your fine logical intellect that tells you I’m full of bullshit. I can’t expect the same respect from you until I earn it.” She grinned. “And even then, you’ll probably go crazy trying to figure out a way to keep yourself from feeling it.”

“And so I should. This animal-communication business is completely ridiculous and probably bogus.” She paused. “Why did you turn up here? Did your animal friends point the way again as they did to find Doane’s car?”

“Don’t be silly. Do you really think an animal could give me a street address?”

“You tell me.”

“I could get a mental picture, but all creatures see things differently, and there are always memories, but they’re tinted by a creature’s experiences. It took me a long time to learn to be able to sort through either one. And an animal wouldn’t pay any attention to a number on a house, so the address thing is out of the question.”

Margaret was so straightforward and down-to-earth that Kendra found herself half believing her. Sincerity, gentleness, and that innate radiance were hard to withstand. She shook her head to clear it.

Good heavens, what a con.

Or was it a con? Was Margaret just a little wacky?

Margaret’s gaze was narrowed on her face. “Now you’re in stage two. Not sure I’m a crook, but maybe a nutcase?”

“What’s stage three?”

“Uncertainty, then toleration.” She beamed at her. “Because you like me. And because together we’ll make a good balance.”

“We won’t make anything together.” She tilted her head as she had a sudden thought. “Wait, you’re not Quinn’s idea of a bodyguard, are you?”

“Bodyguard? Me?” Margaret laughed. “I’ve never been mistaken for that before.”

“Quinn didn’t send you?”

“Why would he?”

“He had some weird idea I shouldn’t be alone.”

“Well, he certainly didn’t choose me to keep you company. Nobody knows I’m here. Except you.”

“And why are you here?”

“I told you, I want to help Jane find Eve. I was with her on the island when all this began, and I could see how worried she was about Eve. It’s a way I can pay her back for taking that bullet for me. There was nothing I could do for her in Georgia, so I decided to come here.”

“Just like that.”

Margaret nodded.

“It was an expensive trip to take on such short notice.”

She was silent a moment. “Well, I really didn’t think Jane would mind.”

“Mind what?”

“You’re not going to like this.”

“Mind what?”

“I kind of borrowed her ID and a credit card from her bedside table when I visited her in the hospital. I knew she wouldn’t need them in there.”

“You stole from her?”

“I borrowed it. I’ll give it back the next time I see her. I just didn’t have time to finesse a way to get out here. If I’d asked Jane, then she’d have had a reason to not let me go.” She added simply, “And I had to go for her. She was going to worry all the time she was in the hospital if nothing was getting done.”

“How did you get on the plane? You don’t look anything like Jane.”

“Her ID wasn’t that good, and my hair looks darker when it’s pulled back. And I chatted to the security agent all the while she was looking at it. I’m good at distracting people.”

“I imagine that’s true. Did you steal money, too?”

“Of course not. I have a little money. I always manage to find a way to get money wherever I am. I just needed a way out here.”

Kendra knew that she should have been appalled, but she couldn’t help but be strangely charmed by Margaret. She moved through life with a dancer’s agility and grace, with a fluidity that suggested a total ease in her skin and the world around her.

Not only charmed but also feeling a crazy protectiveness toward Margaret Douglas, Kendra realized. “And were you planning to rob a bank or two for funds?”

“No, of course not, I’m essentially very honest. It’s just that sometimes you have to balance one thing against another. Besides, there are all kinds of ways to earn money. I always manage. I’m very talented.”

“I can hardly wait for you to tell me how you intend to find a way to do that in a strange town and—”

“I don’t need money now. I’ll worry about that later.”

Kendra shook her head. Forget about worrying how the girl was going to survive. It wasn’t her concern. “When did you leave Atlanta?”

“I was on the first flight out this morning. I’ve been here for a couple hours. I figured the police officer wouldn’t let me in the house, so I’ve been spending time in the yard and in here.”

“And has your time been productive?”

“I think so.” She looked around the toolshed. “There may be something here. I know that Doane lived here alone, and he was an angry and intense man. He hid it very well when he was with the neighbors, but the anger was always there. He was calmer after he worked out here on his furniture pieces. He never had guests except for the kid next door. But there was usually someone watching him and his house from the small road on the hill.”

“Someone must have told you that.” As soon as the words came out of Kendra’s mouth, she realized it was exactly the same thing that people had always said to her when they didn’t understand how she’d made a deduction.

But this was different, dammit.

Margaret smiled. “You might say some thing. I was able to pick it up from the birds in those trees out there on the hill. Birds are extremely sensitive to emotional states. And they’re territorial. They can spend years in the same area. They recognize patterns of behavior.”

Kendra nodded. Margaret’s explanation was made in the same matter-of-fact, clear manner that Kendra herself used when explaining. It didn’t make her believe in Margaret any more than she had before, but Kendra was surprised that she found herself wanting to believe her. “I … see.” She asked mockingly, “And do these birds have any idea where we can find Doane now?”

“I’m afraid not.” She chuckled. “There’s a reason for the word ‘birdbrain.’ They were able to convey the idea of the person watching Doane, probably the agent Venable had assigned to him. But the rest I picked up from Carlie.”

“Carlie?”

“Carlie’s a German shepherd. She belongs to Ron, a teenager who lives next door. She’s a very gentle, very friendly, dog. The kid came over frequently, and Doane helped fix his car. Lots of times, Carlie came with them and stayed with the boy.” She shrugged. “Doane was friendly enough to the dog while the boy was with him. But when Carlie wandered into the yard by herself, Doane was different; he yelled and chased her away.”

“So Doane was acting a part even with the dog?”

“People who love their animals would remember someone who was cold to them. Doane didn’t want anyone suspicious until he was ready to make his move. He was smart in every aspect of his little masquerade. Onstage, he was perfection, model neighbor, model citizen, all-around good guy.”

“But Carlie gave him a bad review.”

“Only when no one else was around. Carlie was confused. He made her uneasy.” She frowned. “That’s why she watched him from the backyard next door. Doane spent a lot of time out here in the shed.”

“Did he ever have a visitor?” What was she doing? Kendra thought with exasperation. She was playing Margaret’s game and treating her as if she was being perfectly logical. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

“I know it’s hard,” Margaret said sympathetically. “It’s a whole new way of looking at the creatures around you. And, you know, if you do start to believe me, you’ll never look at them the same way again. That’s even more scary for some people.”

“I don’t think I’m going to have to worry about that.”

“Maybe. You can never tell. To answer your question, no one came to the shed, but there were times Doane left the shed and disappeared into the woods for hours at a time.” She added thoughtfully, “I figure maybe Doane was picked up by someone out there who had a car waiting.”

“Blick?”

“He was his accomplice and able to move freely. It would make sense. Or maybe Blick provided Doane with another car that he parked in the woods for him to use.”

“So Doane might have come out to the shed because it was easier for him to slip into the woods.” She shrugged. “It’s all guesswork, and I’m not about to take the word of your German shepherd.”

“Why not? She’s more honorable than most people. No axe to grind.” She held up her hand. “You asked, I answered. Now we’ll scoot away from things that might disturb you. You’ll be more comfortable trying to put things together in a way that’s more acceptable to you.” She gestured sweepingly around her. “Go for it.”

“I don’t have to have your permission, Margaret,” Kendra said dryly as she turned and glanced around the toolshed. Most of the structure was still cloaked in shadows, save for the slivers of illumination reflected by dozens of stainless-steel circular saw blades mounted on the wall. The area was centered by woodworking tools, including a table-saw router, lathe, and a few devices Kendra wasn’t familiar with. She studied the contours of the machinery, but none seemed to fit the impressions she had seen in Doane’s car.

“Doane’s been working in here in the last week or so.” Kendra pointed to the floor and waved her hands over large footprints in the sawdust.

“But I think other people must have searched this place in the past few days,” Margaret said.

“They have. You can see their footprints, too. But these match the style and size of a pair of boots I just saw in Doane’s closet. And this sawdust is freshly cut cherrywood. It has a very strong scent. Can you smell it?”

Margaret nodded. “The whole shed smells like it.”

“That means it can’t have been cut much more than a week ago.”

Kendra moved to a rack of hardware over a smaller lathe and fingered the intricate metal plates.

Margaret picked one up. “What are these?”

“They’re used as patterns for the lathe, for cutting ornamental wood pieces. The one you’re holding would make a clover.”

Margaret’s eyes squinted at it. “It doesn’t look anything like a clover.”

“No, but the pins act as a guide for precisely moving the wood across the cutter to create the pattern.” Kendra waved her hand across the other plates. “Each of these creates a different design. Before I could see, I used to love running my hands across intricate carvings, feeling the wonderful details and textures. I still think it’s the best way to appreciate quality woodwork. You can admire some of its beauty by looking at it, but only by feeling it do you really appreciate how each cut contributes to the effect.” She looked down at the lathe, which had a guide plate attached. “This has to be his most recent work.”

Margaret leaned over it. “What’s this pattern?”

Kendra studied it for a moment, then crouched to get a closer look. “Hard to say. Some geometric pattern. It looks like it could be a—” She stopped, frozen.

It was a pattern she had seen before.

Not the cabinet in Doane’s bedroom. Something else …

Of course.

Kendra whirled and quickly moved toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Margaret asked, startled.

Kendra didn’t answer.

“May I go with you?”

She didn’t want company. The girl would probably get in her way.

But she didn’t want to leave her out here alone either. That damn protectiveness again.

“Okay, come.” She threw open the door. “Move. Now.”