Murdered in Conard County Page 11

  “Point is,” Blaire admitted almost ruefully, “I’m not good at sitting on my hands. This might turn up evidence.”

  “You’re thinking in bigger terms,” Gage remarked. “Tactical terms.”

  Blaire nodded. “It’s our training.”

  “It’s good training. It’s also a great idea. The likelihood that he just hung around until everyone went to sleep bugs me. But with kids running around the place, he’d probably be seen.”

  “Probably,” they agreed as one.

  “Go for it. At this point the likelihood we’ll get anything useful off that shell casing is slim. I’ll be able to match it to a weapon if we ever find it, but right now...” Gage shook his head. “Find me a pistol while you’re at it.”

  A few minutes later, they were heading out with Gage’s promise to share any information he received on the other murders. Not this investigation, of course. He couldn’t breach that confidentiality. But the others? Most were probably cold cases by now. Few secrets he couldn’t share.

  Before they got out the door, however, Connie Parish and Beau Beauregard, both deputies, suggested coffee at Maude’s. Blaire exchanged looks with Gus and got the impression that he felt that might be significant. He nodded to her and she smiled.

  “Sure,” she said.

  Maude’s had quieted some after the breakfast hour, and they had no trouble finding a relatively private booth. Coffee arrived automatically, and it seemed Maude had decided Blaire was a latte drinker, because that’s what she received in a tall cup. Not that she was about to complain.

  “Primarily,” Connie said, speaking first, “I’m worried about you being out at the campground all alone, Blaire, especially at night. So is Beau. This was such a random killing, and the guy could still be out there. Wouldn’t be the first weirdo we’ve had playing hermit in those mountains.”

  “Nor the last,” Beau remarked. “The he always kept to himself kind don’t always limit that to the apartment next door.”

  Despite herself, Blaire was amused. “What do you think we’re dealing with here?”

  “Damned if I know. The vic was an accountant. For an oil company,” Connie said. “Now, how likely is that to get you shot on a camping trip? Oh, I suppose there could be reasons, but I can’t imagine any. If he’d angered someone at the company, why follow him out here? This feels so random.”

  “At least it appears to be,” Gus agreed. “But if you really think about it, a lot of life is random. Even so, maybe he had some debts he couldn’t meet. Gambling, drugs.”

  “That’s so cliché,” Blaire murmured, unexpectedly drawing a laugh from the other three. “Well, it is,” she protested. “Easy fallback position. Blame it on the vic.”

  He shrugged. “You’re right. But we have so little to go on, at least as far as I know.”

  Turning her latte in her hands, Blaire studied it as if it might have answers. Afghanistan had been nothing like this, she thought. Nothing. It struck her as odd that one murder was bothering her so much after all that she’d lived through. Yet somehow this one murder seemed scarier. Maybe because it was so far inexplicable.

  Beau spoke. “We were thinking we’d feel better if you had a dog, Blaire.”

  Her head snapped up. “A dog?”

  “A trained police dog,” Beau clarified. “I spoke to Cadell Marcus yesterday. I don’t know if you’ve met him, but he trains our K-9s. He’s got a Malinois almost ready to go, and he said he’d be willing to pass her to you, or just let you keep her for a while, whichever you prefer.”

  This was so unexpected, Blaire had to think about it. She liked dogs. Hell, they’d had a few bomb sniffers with them in Afghanistan. She felt great respect for a dog’s abilities. But she’d never thought of wanting or needing her own K-9.

  “That isn’t extreme?” she said finally.

  “Hardly,” Gus said drily. “I slept on your sofa last night because I didn’t like the idea of you being alone out there. I know you can take care of yourself, but that didn’t keep me from worrying one bit. Some things seem to be engraved on my DNA.”

  She might have laughed except right now she felt far from laughter. A man was dead, they didn’t know why and some creep might be haunting the woods.

  Before she could make up her mind, Gus spoke. “I was also thinking about getting her a horse. At least for now. We want to ride around up there looking for evidence of a staging area or an isolated camp. Gideon Ironheart’s the man for that, right?”

  Connie nodded. “My uncle-in-law,” she explained to Blaire. “In case you don’t know.”

  “I thought everyone in the county knew how all the Parishes are related,” Gus said. “It’s one of the first things I heard about.”

  Connie flashed a grin. “For a while we just kept expanding. Anyway, if you want, I’ll call Gideon. I’m sure he’ll be glad to bring a mount to the park for Blaire. How well do you ride?”

  “I’m pretty much a novice,” Blaire warned her, but she had to admit she liked the idea of being able to ride around the mountain instead of hiking for a few days while they hunted for any kind of evidence. “I did some riding while I was in Afghanistan but I haven’t done much since.”

  “Gideon will have a gentle, patient horse. He’ll take care of everything.”

  “And the dog?” Beau prompted.

  Blaire had to hesitate. Much as she liked dogs, she wasn’t sure she wanted one living with her. She’d become attached, for one thing. For another, animals weren’t allowed in the park. “You know we don’t allow pets in the park. Mainly because people don’t keep them leashed. They chase deer and other animals. Then, most people don’t scoop up after them. So how can I have a dog and tell campers they can’t?”

  “Get him a K-9 vest,” Beau said. “That should do all your explaining for you.”

  He had a point, but she still hesitated. “Let me think about it,” she said finally. “Right now the place is completely empty, but give it a few days. Fears will subside and there’ll be plenty of people around. Then none of you will have to worry about me being alone.”

  She was touched by their concern. Inwardly she was aware of her own uneasiness because of the incomprehensibility of this murder, but she didn’t want to display it. She’d been to war. If she could survive that, even with some emotional damage, she could certainly survive this. And she had a reasonable, tested belief in her ability to look out for herself. Not that she was a superhero or anything, but she could handle quite a bit.

  Everything except someone creeping up on her in her sleep. But she had locks and a sturdy building. She wasn’t sleeping in a tent like Jasper.

  But something else was going on with the idea of getting a dog. “We had bomb-sniffing dogs in Afghanistan.”

  “Yup,” Gus agreed, then waited.

  “We lost a few.” She closed her eyes. “Getting attached... I’m not ready to do that again, okay?”

  “Okay,” said Connie. “Let me call Gideon. We’ll get you a horse on loan so you can roam around with Gus and check out the area faster. I bet he can get one up there by late this afternoon. Will you be around?”

  Gus spoke. “It’s my understanding that Blaire wants to lay in some supplies. Then?”

  The question was directed at her. “Just some supplies. Gage said he’ll let us know what he learns. Beyond that, I have no business.” She turned her head toward Gus. “You?”

  “The same.” He looked at Connie and Beau. “Figure we’ll be back in place at the park by two or a little after.”

  Connie nodded. “I’ll call Gideon now.”

  * * *

  THE TRIP TO the grocery felt almost like emerging from night into day. It was so damn normal, she thought as she and Gus wended their way through the aisles, sharing a cart. She even decided to splurge a little on a box of frozen clam strips and a bag of frozen North Atlantic cod. He
r freezer wasn’t large, so she had to resist a whole lot more than that and stick to staples like boneless, skinless chicken breasts that provided a good protein base for almost anything, some frozen veggies and canned goods that would keep for a while.

  When she was done, she realized she’d bought more than she usually did, and looked at the sacks she piled into the back of Gus’s truck.

  “I overdid it,” she remarked.

  He laughed. “You, too?”

  She shook her head a little. “I share with my staff once in a while, but you can’t eat everything out of a box or a can. It gets boring.”

  “Jars,” he said. “I depend on jars. Tomato sauce, Alfredo sauce, things like that.”

  She nodded. “I’m stocked with enough soup cans to feed an army, I believe.”

  “I love soup.”

  They were both pretty cheerful as they pulled out of town and began rolling toward the mountains and the park.

  Gus brought up the problem of storage. It seemed a safe enough topic, she supposed, because with each passing mile the shadow of the murder seemed to be looming larger.

  “Can’t you get the state to give you a bigger refrigerator and freezer? It seems awfully small if you can’t get out of the park for some reason.”

  “Mostly I only have to worry about myself,” she answered. “I always have some backup in the cupboards during the summer, and come winter I’ve got the world’s biggest freezer.”

  He laughed. “True that.”

  The road into the park began to rise before them, and way up above the mountain peak storm clouds seemed to be brewing. But something else was brewing inside Blaire, and finally she decided to address it directly.

  “I must be crazy.”

  “Why?” He turned the wheel a bit trying to avoid a pothole. The truck bumped only a little.

  “Because it’s ridiculous to think the murderer might still be up there hiding out in the woods. And that even if he is, that he might kill someone else.”

  “I don’t think that’s crazy.” Surprising her, he freed one hand from the wheel to reach over and squeeze hers. Just a quick squeeze because as the road grew rougher, he needed both hands to control the truck. “It would be easier to dismiss the idea if we knew why Jasper was killed. A reason for it. But as it stands, the whole damn thing is an ugly mystery, and now the possibility that five other murders might be linked makes it even worse.”

  “Serial killer,” she said. The truck engine strained a little as the climb became steeper. A short distance with a steep grade that the park system kept talking about leveling out.

  “Well, we don’t know that, either. But as long as it’s a possibility, there’s no reason to feel crazy for worrying.”

  “I guess not. I didn’t used to be so easy to creep out.”

  He snorted. “You’re not used to this situation. Overseas we knew we were always at risk and the threat could come from anywhere. Here, we don’t expect those things. It’s so out of place in the park that it’s downright jarring.”

  “So is this road,” she remarked, trying to change the subject. She didn’t want to give in to the morbid maundering of her imagination, especially since her experience in Afghanistan had given her enough vivid images and memories to fill in the imaginings. The important thing was to keep control of her mind.

  Yeah. She’d been working on that for years. It ought to be a perfected skill by now, but occasionally the wrong stuff still popped up and disturbed her.

  “We’ve been talking about resurfacing this road,” she remarked as the truck jolted yet again. “I don’t think we’re high on the state’s priority list, though. We’re a small campground, comparatively speaking.”

  “With the national forest right next door, what do you expect?” he asked lightly. “We get the roads. If people want to drive a huge RV in, they come to us. On the other hand, your campgrounds offer a lot more privacy.”

  “Yeah. We get a lot of tent campers. Pop-up trailer types. Not so many big RVs, but quite a few smaller ones at lower altitudes where we have hookups.”

  Covering familiar ground, talking about stuff he already knew, probably because she was trying to cover up her crawling sense of unease. Like when she’d been on missions. Knowing the enemy was out there, never knowing when he might strike.

  “You looking forward to having a horse for a few days?” he asked, bringing them around a hairpin bend where the road went from pavement to gravel.

  “Yeah, except it occurred to me, too late, I know next to nothing about caring for one. Heck, those saddles we used in Afghanistan were nothing like the one you have.”

  “Well, I’ll share a secret with you.”

  “What’s that?”

  He flashed a smile her way. “I’ll help you take care of the horse. In fact, I’ll bring Scrappy over and the two can share your corral for a few days. Make a party of it.”

  Her discomfort subsided a bit. “A party? Seriously? When we’re looking for evidence to lead us to a killer?”

  He laughed. “Thought you’d like that one.”

  At last they pulled through the official entrance to the campground and into the small parking lot in front of her cabin. Dave was sitting on the front porch on a battered lawn chair with his feet on the railing. He waved as they pulled up. A man of about forty, mostly bald, with a friendly face and a personal uniform of plaid shirts and jeans, he made people feel welcome. Blaire sometimes wondered if she did.

  “Didn’t expect you back so soon,” Dave remarked. “I thought when you said you wanted a couple of days you planned to be scarce around here.”

  Blaire smiled. “I do. Someone’s lending me a horse and Gus and I are going to take some rides in the mountains.” Why did she feel as if she couldn’t share the truth with Dave? He wasn’t one for gossip, and what did it matter anyway? It wasn’t as if she were embarking on a top secret mission where a little talk could cost lives.

  She was slipping back into the military mind-set. Whether that was good or bad, it was too soon to say. She guessed she’d find out.

  “So you want me to hang around?” Dave asked. “Or come back tomorrow? I don’t see two horses and it’s getting kind of late in the day to take much of a ride anyway.”

  Blaire chewed her lip momentarily. “Would filling in for me tomorrow be a problem?”

  “I’d planned to anyway. And an extra day if you want. My wife and kids went to Buffalo to visit her family, so it’s not like anyone’s going to miss me.”

  Gus spoke. “I need to go over to my place to get my horse and some supplies. If you could hang out here, I’ll take Blaire with me and she can drive my truck back over while I bring Scrappy.” He eyed Blaire. “If that’s okay with you?”

  “That’s fine,” she agreed. She liked the idea that Gus was evidently planning to stay another night, and that he’d help her learn how to take care of the horse that Gideon should be bringing.

  “Just one thing,” Gus said. “Gideon Ironheart is bringing a horse for Blaire to ride for a few days, so if it arrives while we’re gone?”

  Dave nodded. “That I can handle. The corral out back is still good, mainly because I fixed it up last spring. You never know when the state might decide it would help to get us mounts. On the other hand, the way the road paving argument is going, I figure I’ll be walking or using the ATVs for years to come.”

  “They work,” Blaire pointed out with humor.

  “Sure, but they don’t go everywhere a horse could.”

  She half smiled. “And they tear up the terrain.”

  “Exactly.” Dave pretended to be struck by the thought. “I never thought of that. Sheesh, Blaire, you ought to pass that along to the powers that be. Hey, guys, the ATVs damage the environment.”

  “Probably no more than the campers,” she retorted. “Okay, that’s how we’ll do it, then.
” She looked at Gus. “How long should we be?”

  “An hour at most. By truck my cabin isn’t that far away if you take the wood trail.”

  She knew what he meant. There was a road between the two cabins, basically two ruts that ran between the trees, but it shaved off a lot of travel time. Gus’s truck had high suspension for dealing with the rugged terrain around the forest. It could probably handle it better than most ATVs.

  Thanking Dave yet again, she climbed back into the truck with Gus, and they headed along the wood trail toward his headquarters.

  Chapter Eight

  Gus loaded the back of his truck with all kinds of horse needs, like bags of feed, currycombs and so on. He believed in taking care of any animal in his care, and some that simply needed help. When it came to Scrappy, however, it felt as if he were taking care of family.

  Instead of taking the trail back to Blaire’s place, he took the wood road. He led the way on Scrappy with her following behind in his truck. The day was beginning to wane. The sun had disappeared behind the mountain he was traveling over, and the light had become flat. It was still daytime, the sky above a brilliant blue, but the shadows beneath the trees seemed to have deepened anyway.

  The forest didn’t feel right, he thought. He supposed that was something left over from the war, but it was a feeling he couldn’t dismiss anyway. As if a threat could lurk behind any tree.

  Maybe it could. Some lunatic had killed a man inoffensively sleeping in his tent. Killed him with his young son beside him. What kind of person did that? The question had been bugging him since the outset.

  The kind of person who would do that was exactly the reason he couldn’t bring himself to leave Blaire alone again. He’d fought his instincts the first nights after the murder, but finally he couldn’t continue an internal war that clearly wasn’t going to sign a cease-fire.

  He was worried for Blaire. She was out there alone at night, and if the campground had been full to the rafters, he’d have felt he was extraneous. But everyone had fled after the murder, and there was still no sign of a return.