08-A Thousand Bones, page 26
“What did you do?” Mack asked.
Snider sighed. “It was cold. I sat in a bar, watched TV, and drank beer. By the time he picked me up, I was wasted.”
“Go on,” Leach said.
“So I get in the truck, and I see his clothes are bloody and he’s kinda freaked out, you know? I ask him what happened, and he tells me he did something horrible and starts driving back to the cabin, talking to me but not making no sense.”
Snider raised his hand to his face. Joe saw that it was scratched from where he had dug his nail into his palm. As Snider wiped spittle from his mouth, he left a faint smear of blood on his chin.
“Go on,” Leach said.
“We get back to the cabin about five-thirty, and it’s already dark, so I light up some kerosene lamps so I can see what the hell he’s talking about, and that’s when I see her.”
“Annabelle Chapel?”
Snider nodded, eyes closed again. “She was on the floor…naked…bloody.” Snider finished in a hoarse whisper. “She didn’t have a head.”
For a few seconds, no one spoke. Finally, Leach cleared his throat. “Go on.”
Snider wrapped his arms around himself. “I was scared,” he said. “I asked him what he did with her head, and he told me he took it out in the woods and left it.”
“He tell you why?”
“No,” Snider said. “And I didn’t ask any more questions. I was drunk, freaking out, you know? But I’m scared, and he’s waving around this shotgun like he might shoot me with it.”
“What do you know about the other girls?” Leach asked.
“Nothing,” Snider said. “But afterwards, I got to thinking that maybe he killed Ronnie, too, because we both knew her from the bowling alley, and I never believed she just left. But no way was I going to ask him nothing.”
“And you never told anyone this?” Leach asked.
“Hell no,” Snider said. “It happened in my cabin. It was my truck, and it had blood in it. I was up here that day. No one was going believe I didn’t help kill that girl.”
The room was silent except for the tick of the clock on the wall.
“Well, do we have a deal?” Snider asked, his eyes darting among them. “If I give you his name, do we have a deal?”
Mack walked away from Snider, then turned back. “You’re full of shit. You could give us any name. You could give us some dead guy who can’t tell his side of the story.”
For the first time during the interview, Snider met Mack’s hard stare. “He’s alive,” Snider said. “And you won’t have any trouble finding him.”
“Then give us something to convince us you’re telling the truth,” Leach said. “Give us something we don’t already know.”
Snider looked across the table at Leach. “He’s Indian.”
Leach tried to keep his face expressionless, but his eyes drifted up to Joe.
“Gordon, do you have today’s paper?” Leach asked Adderly.
Adderly reached into his briefcase and pulled out the Echo Bay Banner. Leach set it on the table in front of Ken. “Have you seen this before?” Leach asked, pointing to the photograph of the carving.
Ken stared at it and nodded. “Yeah, it’s an Indian symbol.”
“He saw the paper this morning, Sheriff,” Joe said.
“Yeah, but there’s a carving just like this on the back of the cabin,” Snider said quickly. “That part wasn’t in the paper. He carved it after he killed her.”
Joe found Leach’s eyes. The carving on the Collier cabin was the one thing they had been able to keep out of the press.
“What about the place where he left the head?” Joe asked. “Did he carve something there, too?”
Snider shook his head. “I don’t know about that.”
The room was quiet, then Adderly stood up suddenly. “I don’t like this,” he muttered. He tossed his pad and pen into his briefcase. “It’s not enough.”
Snider’s eyes swung up to him. “I know where she is,” he said.
Leach leaned in. “What do you mean?”
“Annabelle Chapel. I know where the rest of her is,” Snider said. “I’ll show you and you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
“How do you know?” Leach asked.
“He wanted to get rid of the rest of her body,” Snider said, “so we took her and drove into the woods. We buried her.”
Leach leaned in. “You’re lying. We don’t believe any of the girls were buried.”
Snider clenched his teeth. “I don’t know what he did with the others,” he hissed. “But I’m telling you we buried Annabelle Chapel, and I can show you where.”
“Where?” Mack asked.
Snider was shaking his head. “You give me a deal, and I’ll take you to that girl’s bones. And I’ll give you the name of the guy who killed her.”
Mack started to say something, but Leach silenced him with a hand. “Just tell us where she is,” Leach said to Snider. “And if we find her remains—”
Snider slumped back in his chair. “You’d never find the place. It was six years ago, man. I have to try and find it.”
Mack turned away in disgust, muttering something Joe couldn’t hear. She watched Adderly, who was staring at Snider with contempt.
Leach stood up. “Let’s take this outside,” he said.
They left Snider sitting at the table, Holt guarding him. Joe closed the door, and they huddled together down the hall.
“Talk to me, Cliff,” Adderly said.
Leach sighed. “Part of me believes him. He looked sick when he talked about seeing no head, and that can’t be faked. I just don’t know how much to believe.”
Adderly pursed his lips. “What do you make of this Indian friend angle?”
“Snider had books about Indians when he was a kid,” Joe said, “so he could have known about the carvings from that.”
“Or he could be telling the truth,” Mack said. “The bottom line is, we have nothing to lose here. If he’s telling the truth, we get the killer’s name and the evidence to convict him before we ever arrest the sucker. If we don’t have the bones when that happens, he’ll try to use them as a bargaining tool.”
They were all quiet for a moment.
“So, what do we do?” Adderly said.
“I say we take him out there now,” Mack said.
“No,” Leach said. “There’s something wrong with all of this, and I can’t put my finger on it, but—”
“He’s being transferred to Traverse City tomorrow,” Mack said quickly. “If we try to take him anywhere after that, the state will stick its nose in, and we’ll lose every opportunity we have to nail this bastard.”
Leach was quiet, glancing back at the conference room door. Then his eyes came back to Joe.
“What do you think?” he asked.
Joe was surprised that he asked, but she had an opinion. For the first time since she’d been here, she agreed with Mack.
“I don’t see what we have to lose, either,” she said. “He’ll be shackled and escorted. He hasn’t made any calls since he’s been here, so there’s little chance this accomplice knows that Snider is going to show us anything.”
“What about Roland?” Leach asked.
“Roland was just a kid when Snider killed Ronnie,” Mack said. “I don’t think he knew about that then, and I don’t think he wants anything to do with his brother now.”
Still, Leach was quiet.
“Look,” Mack said. “We’ve already had a slew of leaks on this case. If it gets out that we had a chance to get Annabelle Chapel’s remains and we didn’t take it, Arthur Chapel will use every connection and all his money to make us look incompetent. This man has the power to destroy us.”
Joe was looking at Leach. Mack was right. A man like Chapel would make someone pay, starting with a recall of Leach.
“Sheriff,” she said, “there’s the other mothers to think about, too. If we find this accomplice, maybe he can give us names, or at least tell us how many for sure. This could be the first step in bringing all the girls home.”
Mack pushed forward. “This sort of thing is done all the time,” he said. “You know that, Sheriff. It’s routine procedure.”
“Not in our department,” Leach said quietly.
“Sheriff,” Mack said, “it’s a simple walk in the woods.”
Leach looked at Joe again and let out a long breath. “Okay. But we do this quietly and quickly. And I want someone to keep an eye on Roland Trader. If he so much as makes a move to leave town tonight, I want to know about it. He’s still Snider’s brother and I just don’t trust him.”
Adderly gave a nod, and he and Mack headed back to the interview room. Leach motioned to Joe to follow him to the front office. Mike was just coming through the front door, carrying a bag from The Bluebird.
“Mike,” Leach said, “I want you to dress up Snider for some time outside and shackle him from head to toe. Then grab your winter gear and pull a cruiser with a cage up to the back door and stick him in it.”
“We moving him to Traverse City now?” Mike asked.
Leach quickly outlined the plan for Mike and turned back to Joe. “Joe, I want you and Holt to set yourselves up outside the Dunes Motel to watch Roland Trader.”
“I want to go with you,” Joe said.
Leach shook his head. “Taking a prisoner out of the station is never completely safe. Mike is more experienced.”
“But I’ve earned the right to go,” Joe said.
Leach drew back quickly, surprised at her tone. Joe thought about apologizing, even begging, but she didn’t do either. For a few seconds, no one said anything.
Mike stepped forward. “Sir, I’ll go with Holt. Let Joe go with you. She has earned it.”
Leach looked at her, but then gave a slow nod. “All right. Get your gear.”
She hurried to get her winter parka and boots. As she was pulling them on, she heard the clink of chains as they led Snider out. She was zipping the parka as she headed quickly down the hall to the back door. She walked right into Rafsky. He caught her shoulders.
“I got your message. What the hell are you guys doing?” he asked.
“He’s taking us to Annabelle’s remains,” she said.
“In exchange for what?” Rafsky said.
She strained to look over Rafsky’s shoulder to make sure they weren’t going to leave her. Snider was in the cruiser. Mack was getting in on the driver’s side.
“I don’t have time to explain it,” she said.
“No,” he said. “I won’t allow this.”
“I don’t think you have the authority to stop us,” she said, moving around him.
He grabbed the sleeve of her parka and forced her to turn back. “I don’t want you to go,” he said.
“Me or us?” she asked.
Rafsky hesitated only a second. “You.”
Joe held his eyes. “It’s my job,” she said.
Rafsky let go of her, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then she hurried to catch up with the others. Rafsky grabbed a parka and followed.
38
More snow was coming. Everyone knew it. There was an ozone bite in the air, and the gray clouds that had been on a slow march across the lake since dawn now lay motionless, waiting.
They were twenty miles south of town, on a narrow county road surrounded by trees. The leading cruiser’s taillights came on, and they stopped. Joe and Rafsky were following in a second cruiser, Joe driving. She could see Ken Snider’s head in the caged backseat of the car ahead.
She keyed the radio. “What’s the holdup?” she asked.
Leach’s voice came back to her from the front cruiser. “He’s not sure of the direction.”
Joe let out a tense sigh.
“Where are we?” Rafsky asked.
“South end of Lake Leelanau,” Joe said. “Maybe down by Pere Marquette State Forest. I’m not sure. Not a lot of roads down here, just hiking trails.”
Rafsky shook his head. “I don’t like this,” he said quietly.
It started to snow. Big lacy flakes drifting down in the still air. When Joe switched on the wipers, the taillights ahead had gone off. They were moving again.
The radio crackled to life. It was Mike reporting in to Leach from his post with Holt outside the Dunes Motel. The motel owner had said Roland had put some duffle bags in his trunk earlier but hadn’t emerged since, and his black sedan was still parked right outside his door. He was paid up for the week.
“If he even gets in that car, let me know,” Leach said, and signed off.
The road was moving steadily uphill. Joe could feel the tires straining for traction.
Suddenly, the cruiser ahead braked hard and swung left into the trees. Joe followed, slowing to a crawl on the narrow road. She could almost hear Rafsky grinding his teeth in agitation.
They were entering a stand of young pines that surrounded them like a pressing crowd. The branches were already wearing epaulettes of fresh snow. Then the lead cruiser stopped.
The radio sputtered. “This is as far as we can go,” Leach said. “He says we have to walk from here.”
Joe got out of the cruiser, zipping her parka. Rafsky zipped his, too, and turned up the collar.
The soft hiss of the falling snow was broken by the thud of the car door closing in front of them. Leach and Mack had gotten out of the front. Mack yanked open the back door.
Snider slid out. He was wearing a sheriff’s parka over his jail jumpsuit. He stood there for a moment, his eyes scanning the pine trees. Mack grabbed a fistful of Snider’s jacket, but the guy wasn’t going anywhere. The chains strung around him allowed him to walk at no more than a shuffle and gave him just enough freedom to wipe his face if he bent over.
“Which way?” Leach asked him.
Snider was still looking around. As Joe approached, she could see something she read as fear in Snider’s eyes. Despite the cold, there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead.
“Up there,” Snider said, nodding toward a tree-dense hill.
“Let’s go,” Mack said, giving him a slight shove.
Leach and Mack led the way, with Snider between them. Joe and Rafsky trailed, Joe pulling on her leather gloves as they walked. The hill was a steady climb upward, and the gathering snow made for tough going, even though she was wearing boots. She looked to Rafsky in his lace-up shoes. His face still wore the red tint of a low fever.
A soft, muffled crack.
Joe’s eyes shot up, but then she relaxed as she recognized the distant echo of a hunter’s rifle. She knew the woods were filled with hunters this time of year, but there was no hunting allowed in the state forest. She glanced at Rafsky and guessed he was thinking the same thing.
She looked up at the tin-colored clouds and then at her watch. Near four. They had only about an hour of good light left.
They walked on, the only sound the chink of Snider’s shackles. Then, suddenly, she picked up a second sound, a faint rushing. It grew louder as they crested the hill.
A stream, dotted with rocks. It led back to a rocky, snow-dusted bluff and a waterfall. Maybe six feet high, the water crystal clear.
“This is it,” Snider said.
“Where’d you bury her?” Mack asked.
Snider tried to make a motion, but he couldn’t lift his hands high enough and finally just tilted his head toward the water. “Behind the waterfall,” he said. “There’s a cave back there. The ground was too hard, so we covered her up with some rocks.”
Leach’s face darkened with suspicion. Joe and Rafsky came up behind them. “Mack, you go look,” Leach said.
Mack pulled out his flashlight and stepped into the water, spreading his arms to keep his balance as he made his way across. On her radio, Joe heard Mike check in. Roland hadn’t moved from his motel, and Mike said he could see the lights and TV on inside. Joe gave Mike a quick ten-four and checked off, her eyes drifting to the snowcapped hill, the dusted trees, and the waterfall. The awful incongruity of it hit her: such a beautiful place for such a gruesome tomb.
Shick-shuck. BOOM!
Joe’s eyes lasered to the waterfall, the explosion of the gunshot deafening her ears.
A man on the opposite bank. Holding a long gun. Mack was in the water. Leach was—
Shick-shuck. BOOM!
Leach fell.
Joe ducked and stumbled, grabbing for her weapon, her gloves stiff, her bulky parka covering her holster. She couldn’t get to her gun.
Shick-shuck. BOOM!
A blur of brown. Rafsky jerking to his left, yelling something, then falling to the ground.
She dropped to her knees, ripping off her gloves and wrenching her revolver free. She crawled, desperate to find cover. But there was nothing but Rafsky’s body.
Quiet.
Rushing water.
Then a rustle of wet leaves.
A knee dropped hard into her back, knocking her flat to the ground, pushing the air from her lungs. He stayed on her, using his weight to keep her still as he ripped her gun from her hand.
She blinked, the snow in her face, trying to slow her heart and bring things into focus. But she saw only the snow and Rafsky’s brown shoes. She shut her eyes, fighting tears and the thunder of her heart.
Suddenly, the pressure on her back lifted. With a jerk on her jacket, he flipped her over onto her back.
Roland Trader was kneeling above her, the barrel of his shotgun pointed at her head. His face was slick with sweat.
Behind him, she could see Ken Snider rising slowly to his feet. Not wounded but wet and scared.
Shick-shuck.
Her eyes shot back to Roland.
“Please don’t,” she said.
He stood up slowly and lowered the shotgun barrel until it was pressing gently against her lips.
“Kenny,” Roland said. “Go get the hoist from the cave.”
Ken didn’t move.
Roland turned sharply. “Kenny!”
“What?”
“Go get the fucking hoist.”
Joe heard the clanking of chains as Ken shuffled away. Snow was falling onto her face, and she blinked against it, keeping her eyes on Roland. He smiled and started to circle her slowly, teasing her face with the gun barrel.
More clanking as Ken came back, hunched over as he dragged the hoist closer. He let it fall next to her head. She looked at it. Steel. A jangle of ropes. And pulleys.
Snider sighed. “It was cold. I sat in a bar, watched TV, and drank beer. By the time he picked me up, I was wasted.”
“Go on,” Leach said.
“So I get in the truck, and I see his clothes are bloody and he’s kinda freaked out, you know? I ask him what happened, and he tells me he did something horrible and starts driving back to the cabin, talking to me but not making no sense.”
Snider raised his hand to his face. Joe saw that it was scratched from where he had dug his nail into his palm. As Snider wiped spittle from his mouth, he left a faint smear of blood on his chin.
“Go on,” Leach said.
“We get back to the cabin about five-thirty, and it’s already dark, so I light up some kerosene lamps so I can see what the hell he’s talking about, and that’s when I see her.”
“Annabelle Chapel?”
Snider nodded, eyes closed again. “She was on the floor…naked…bloody.” Snider finished in a hoarse whisper. “She didn’t have a head.”
For a few seconds, no one spoke. Finally, Leach cleared his throat. “Go on.”
Snider wrapped his arms around himself. “I was scared,” he said. “I asked him what he did with her head, and he told me he took it out in the woods and left it.”
“He tell you why?”
“No,” Snider said. “And I didn’t ask any more questions. I was drunk, freaking out, you know? But I’m scared, and he’s waving around this shotgun like he might shoot me with it.”
“What do you know about the other girls?” Leach asked.
“Nothing,” Snider said. “But afterwards, I got to thinking that maybe he killed Ronnie, too, because we both knew her from the bowling alley, and I never believed she just left. But no way was I going to ask him nothing.”
“And you never told anyone this?” Leach asked.
“Hell no,” Snider said. “It happened in my cabin. It was my truck, and it had blood in it. I was up here that day. No one was going believe I didn’t help kill that girl.”
The room was silent except for the tick of the clock on the wall.
“Well, do we have a deal?” Snider asked, his eyes darting among them. “If I give you his name, do we have a deal?”
Mack walked away from Snider, then turned back. “You’re full of shit. You could give us any name. You could give us some dead guy who can’t tell his side of the story.”
For the first time during the interview, Snider met Mack’s hard stare. “He’s alive,” Snider said. “And you won’t have any trouble finding him.”
“Then give us something to convince us you’re telling the truth,” Leach said. “Give us something we don’t already know.”
Snider looked across the table at Leach. “He’s Indian.”
Leach tried to keep his face expressionless, but his eyes drifted up to Joe.
“Gordon, do you have today’s paper?” Leach asked Adderly.
Adderly reached into his briefcase and pulled out the Echo Bay Banner. Leach set it on the table in front of Ken. “Have you seen this before?” Leach asked, pointing to the photograph of the carving.
Ken stared at it and nodded. “Yeah, it’s an Indian symbol.”
“He saw the paper this morning, Sheriff,” Joe said.
“Yeah, but there’s a carving just like this on the back of the cabin,” Snider said quickly. “That part wasn’t in the paper. He carved it after he killed her.”
Joe found Leach’s eyes. The carving on the Collier cabin was the one thing they had been able to keep out of the press.
“What about the place where he left the head?” Joe asked. “Did he carve something there, too?”
Snider shook his head. “I don’t know about that.”
The room was quiet, then Adderly stood up suddenly. “I don’t like this,” he muttered. He tossed his pad and pen into his briefcase. “It’s not enough.”
Snider’s eyes swung up to him. “I know where she is,” he said.
Leach leaned in. “What do you mean?”
“Annabelle Chapel. I know where the rest of her is,” Snider said. “I’ll show you and you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
“How do you know?” Leach asked.
“He wanted to get rid of the rest of her body,” Snider said, “so we took her and drove into the woods. We buried her.”
Leach leaned in. “You’re lying. We don’t believe any of the girls were buried.”
Snider clenched his teeth. “I don’t know what he did with the others,” he hissed. “But I’m telling you we buried Annabelle Chapel, and I can show you where.”
“Where?” Mack asked.
Snider was shaking his head. “You give me a deal, and I’ll take you to that girl’s bones. And I’ll give you the name of the guy who killed her.”
Mack started to say something, but Leach silenced him with a hand. “Just tell us where she is,” Leach said to Snider. “And if we find her remains—”
Snider slumped back in his chair. “You’d never find the place. It was six years ago, man. I have to try and find it.”
Mack turned away in disgust, muttering something Joe couldn’t hear. She watched Adderly, who was staring at Snider with contempt.
Leach stood up. “Let’s take this outside,” he said.
They left Snider sitting at the table, Holt guarding him. Joe closed the door, and they huddled together down the hall.
“Talk to me, Cliff,” Adderly said.
Leach sighed. “Part of me believes him. He looked sick when he talked about seeing no head, and that can’t be faked. I just don’t know how much to believe.”
Adderly pursed his lips. “What do you make of this Indian friend angle?”
“Snider had books about Indians when he was a kid,” Joe said, “so he could have known about the carvings from that.”
“Or he could be telling the truth,” Mack said. “The bottom line is, we have nothing to lose here. If he’s telling the truth, we get the killer’s name and the evidence to convict him before we ever arrest the sucker. If we don’t have the bones when that happens, he’ll try to use them as a bargaining tool.”
They were all quiet for a moment.
“So, what do we do?” Adderly said.
“I say we take him out there now,” Mack said.
“No,” Leach said. “There’s something wrong with all of this, and I can’t put my finger on it, but—”
“He’s being transferred to Traverse City tomorrow,” Mack said quickly. “If we try to take him anywhere after that, the state will stick its nose in, and we’ll lose every opportunity we have to nail this bastard.”
Leach was quiet, glancing back at the conference room door. Then his eyes came back to Joe.
“What do you think?” he asked.
Joe was surprised that he asked, but she had an opinion. For the first time since she’d been here, she agreed with Mack.
“I don’t see what we have to lose, either,” she said. “He’ll be shackled and escorted. He hasn’t made any calls since he’s been here, so there’s little chance this accomplice knows that Snider is going to show us anything.”
“What about Roland?” Leach asked.
“Roland was just a kid when Snider killed Ronnie,” Mack said. “I don’t think he knew about that then, and I don’t think he wants anything to do with his brother now.”
Still, Leach was quiet.
“Look,” Mack said. “We’ve already had a slew of leaks on this case. If it gets out that we had a chance to get Annabelle Chapel’s remains and we didn’t take it, Arthur Chapel will use every connection and all his money to make us look incompetent. This man has the power to destroy us.”
Joe was looking at Leach. Mack was right. A man like Chapel would make someone pay, starting with a recall of Leach.
“Sheriff,” she said, “there’s the other mothers to think about, too. If we find this accomplice, maybe he can give us names, or at least tell us how many for sure. This could be the first step in bringing all the girls home.”
Mack pushed forward. “This sort of thing is done all the time,” he said. “You know that, Sheriff. It’s routine procedure.”
“Not in our department,” Leach said quietly.
“Sheriff,” Mack said, “it’s a simple walk in the woods.”
Leach looked at Joe again and let out a long breath. “Okay. But we do this quietly and quickly. And I want someone to keep an eye on Roland Trader. If he so much as makes a move to leave town tonight, I want to know about it. He’s still Snider’s brother and I just don’t trust him.”
Adderly gave a nod, and he and Mack headed back to the interview room. Leach motioned to Joe to follow him to the front office. Mike was just coming through the front door, carrying a bag from The Bluebird.
“Mike,” Leach said, “I want you to dress up Snider for some time outside and shackle him from head to toe. Then grab your winter gear and pull a cruiser with a cage up to the back door and stick him in it.”
“We moving him to Traverse City now?” Mike asked.
Leach quickly outlined the plan for Mike and turned back to Joe. “Joe, I want you and Holt to set yourselves up outside the Dunes Motel to watch Roland Trader.”
“I want to go with you,” Joe said.
Leach shook his head. “Taking a prisoner out of the station is never completely safe. Mike is more experienced.”
“But I’ve earned the right to go,” Joe said.
Leach drew back quickly, surprised at her tone. Joe thought about apologizing, even begging, but she didn’t do either. For a few seconds, no one said anything.
Mike stepped forward. “Sir, I’ll go with Holt. Let Joe go with you. She has earned it.”
Leach looked at her, but then gave a slow nod. “All right. Get your gear.”
She hurried to get her winter parka and boots. As she was pulling them on, she heard the clink of chains as they led Snider out. She was zipping the parka as she headed quickly down the hall to the back door. She walked right into Rafsky. He caught her shoulders.
“I got your message. What the hell are you guys doing?” he asked.
“He’s taking us to Annabelle’s remains,” she said.
“In exchange for what?” Rafsky said.
She strained to look over Rafsky’s shoulder to make sure they weren’t going to leave her. Snider was in the cruiser. Mack was getting in on the driver’s side.
“I don’t have time to explain it,” she said.
“No,” he said. “I won’t allow this.”
“I don’t think you have the authority to stop us,” she said, moving around him.
He grabbed the sleeve of her parka and forced her to turn back. “I don’t want you to go,” he said.
“Me or us?” she asked.
Rafsky hesitated only a second. “You.”
Joe held his eyes. “It’s my job,” she said.
Rafsky let go of her, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then she hurried to catch up with the others. Rafsky grabbed a parka and followed.
38
More snow was coming. Everyone knew it. There was an ozone bite in the air, and the gray clouds that had been on a slow march across the lake since dawn now lay motionless, waiting.
They were twenty miles south of town, on a narrow county road surrounded by trees. The leading cruiser’s taillights came on, and they stopped. Joe and Rafsky were following in a second cruiser, Joe driving. She could see Ken Snider’s head in the caged backseat of the car ahead.
She keyed the radio. “What’s the holdup?” she asked.
Leach’s voice came back to her from the front cruiser. “He’s not sure of the direction.”
Joe let out a tense sigh.
“Where are we?” Rafsky asked.
“South end of Lake Leelanau,” Joe said. “Maybe down by Pere Marquette State Forest. I’m not sure. Not a lot of roads down here, just hiking trails.”
Rafsky shook his head. “I don’t like this,” he said quietly.
It started to snow. Big lacy flakes drifting down in the still air. When Joe switched on the wipers, the taillights ahead had gone off. They were moving again.
The radio crackled to life. It was Mike reporting in to Leach from his post with Holt outside the Dunes Motel. The motel owner had said Roland had put some duffle bags in his trunk earlier but hadn’t emerged since, and his black sedan was still parked right outside his door. He was paid up for the week.
“If he even gets in that car, let me know,” Leach said, and signed off.
The road was moving steadily uphill. Joe could feel the tires straining for traction.
Suddenly, the cruiser ahead braked hard and swung left into the trees. Joe followed, slowing to a crawl on the narrow road. She could almost hear Rafsky grinding his teeth in agitation.
They were entering a stand of young pines that surrounded them like a pressing crowd. The branches were already wearing epaulettes of fresh snow. Then the lead cruiser stopped.
The radio sputtered. “This is as far as we can go,” Leach said. “He says we have to walk from here.”
Joe got out of the cruiser, zipping her parka. Rafsky zipped his, too, and turned up the collar.
The soft hiss of the falling snow was broken by the thud of the car door closing in front of them. Leach and Mack had gotten out of the front. Mack yanked open the back door.
Snider slid out. He was wearing a sheriff’s parka over his jail jumpsuit. He stood there for a moment, his eyes scanning the pine trees. Mack grabbed a fistful of Snider’s jacket, but the guy wasn’t going anywhere. The chains strung around him allowed him to walk at no more than a shuffle and gave him just enough freedom to wipe his face if he bent over.
“Which way?” Leach asked him.
Snider was still looking around. As Joe approached, she could see something she read as fear in Snider’s eyes. Despite the cold, there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead.
“Up there,” Snider said, nodding toward a tree-dense hill.
“Let’s go,” Mack said, giving him a slight shove.
Leach and Mack led the way, with Snider between them. Joe and Rafsky trailed, Joe pulling on her leather gloves as they walked. The hill was a steady climb upward, and the gathering snow made for tough going, even though she was wearing boots. She looked to Rafsky in his lace-up shoes. His face still wore the red tint of a low fever.
A soft, muffled crack.
Joe’s eyes shot up, but then she relaxed as she recognized the distant echo of a hunter’s rifle. She knew the woods were filled with hunters this time of year, but there was no hunting allowed in the state forest. She glanced at Rafsky and guessed he was thinking the same thing.
She looked up at the tin-colored clouds and then at her watch. Near four. They had only about an hour of good light left.
They walked on, the only sound the chink of Snider’s shackles. Then, suddenly, she picked up a second sound, a faint rushing. It grew louder as they crested the hill.
A stream, dotted with rocks. It led back to a rocky, snow-dusted bluff and a waterfall. Maybe six feet high, the water crystal clear.
“This is it,” Snider said.
“Where’d you bury her?” Mack asked.
Snider tried to make a motion, but he couldn’t lift his hands high enough and finally just tilted his head toward the water. “Behind the waterfall,” he said. “There’s a cave back there. The ground was too hard, so we covered her up with some rocks.”
Leach’s face darkened with suspicion. Joe and Rafsky came up behind them. “Mack, you go look,” Leach said.
Mack pulled out his flashlight and stepped into the water, spreading his arms to keep his balance as he made his way across. On her radio, Joe heard Mike check in. Roland hadn’t moved from his motel, and Mike said he could see the lights and TV on inside. Joe gave Mike a quick ten-four and checked off, her eyes drifting to the snowcapped hill, the dusted trees, and the waterfall. The awful incongruity of it hit her: such a beautiful place for such a gruesome tomb.
Shick-shuck. BOOM!
Joe’s eyes lasered to the waterfall, the explosion of the gunshot deafening her ears.
A man on the opposite bank. Holding a long gun. Mack was in the water. Leach was—
Shick-shuck. BOOM!
Leach fell.
Joe ducked and stumbled, grabbing for her weapon, her gloves stiff, her bulky parka covering her holster. She couldn’t get to her gun.
Shick-shuck. BOOM!
A blur of brown. Rafsky jerking to his left, yelling something, then falling to the ground.
She dropped to her knees, ripping off her gloves and wrenching her revolver free. She crawled, desperate to find cover. But there was nothing but Rafsky’s body.
Quiet.
Rushing water.
Then a rustle of wet leaves.
A knee dropped hard into her back, knocking her flat to the ground, pushing the air from her lungs. He stayed on her, using his weight to keep her still as he ripped her gun from her hand.
She blinked, the snow in her face, trying to slow her heart and bring things into focus. But she saw only the snow and Rafsky’s brown shoes. She shut her eyes, fighting tears and the thunder of her heart.
Suddenly, the pressure on her back lifted. With a jerk on her jacket, he flipped her over onto her back.
Roland Trader was kneeling above her, the barrel of his shotgun pointed at her head. His face was slick with sweat.
Behind him, she could see Ken Snider rising slowly to his feet. Not wounded but wet and scared.
Shick-shuck.
Her eyes shot back to Roland.
“Please don’t,” she said.
He stood up slowly and lowered the shotgun barrel until it was pressing gently against her lips.
“Kenny,” Roland said. “Go get the hoist from the cave.”
Ken didn’t move.
Roland turned sharply. “Kenny!”
“What?”
“Go get the fucking hoist.”
Joe heard the clanking of chains as Ken shuffled away. Snow was falling onto her face, and she blinked against it, keeping her eyes on Roland. He smiled and started to circle her slowly, teasing her face with the gun barrel.
More clanking as Ken came back, hunched over as he dragged the hoist closer. He let it fall next to her head. She looked at it. Steel. A jangle of ropes. And pulleys.
