Bitter Truth Page 12

  “The district ranger who’s leading the search called. Said he was coming to talk with Deena.”

  She was silent for a long moment. Good news you didn’t have to deliver in person; in fact, you wanted to get good news to loved ones as fast as possible. “I’m on my way.” She hung up and turned to Gus. “Thank you—for the cornbread and for the information. I promise you, I’ll check it out as soon as I can.”

  The old man reached a hand out and Lucy shook it, feeling as if she were sealing a formal deal. “You find Bill. He’s needed here.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she promised. Lucy made a point of never promising anything she couldn’t deliver, but this seemed a safe bet. “Call me if you think of anything.”

  “Put your number in my phone, then I don’t have to bother Amy for it.” He slid a wide-screen smartphone across the table to her. She entered her info and handed it back to him. The font was set so large her phone number took up the entire screen. Maybe Gus had more problems than just a bum hip. The joys of getting old. She stood, her weight landing heavily on her bad ankle. “Take care, Gus.”

  Amy and Gleason were still huddled over the tractor, side by side, their heads almost touching. “Gleason, do you mind driving me back to Bill’s truck? Nick just called—your boss is headed over to Deena’s house. He said he had to talk to her in person.”

  Both Amy and Gleason frowned at the news. “Nothing on the radio that they found him,” Gleason said, touching the radio at his belt. “Maybe he just wants to introduce himself since he’s taking over from me.”

  “Let’s hope.” Lucy climbed into the ranger’s truck, then waited as he said goodbye to Amy. A few minutes later they were rattling down the gravel road leading north to the Magruder Corridor. As they drove, she noted the landmarks—the gnarled dead tree marking the trail to the first bear trap, the better-traveled track that led south to the river where the geologists were camped. She never did have a chance to ask Gus what they were surveying. Not that it was any of her business. “Do you think he might be calling off the search? It’s been three days.”

  “But only one day since the text yesterday,” Gleason reminded her.

  “Gus says you all have been looking in the wrong direction.”

  “I know; he told me. He said Bill would be heading west to Grangeville because he wanted to talk to Dr. Carruthers. Only problem is, Judith was at the ranch while Bill was there and left right after him, and she saw his Jeep parked facing east—just about exactly where you parked this morning. One of the few places where it’s easy to get a call out this far outside of town.”

  “That fits with his last call to me, according to the GPS tracking. Then his phone went dead, and there was no more tracking data.”

  “Which wouldn’t make sense if he turned around to head west to Grangeville because after the first few miles, he’d be heading into an area of good cell service with no GPS blind spots. Unlike heading east along the Corridor. You lose both out there.”

  “I thought GPS coverage was good—isn’t that why hikers use it?”

  “Not everywhere. Like down in the deep canyons, the rocks block it, just like brick and cement walls can in a city. But it’s good enough when you climb out that most folks only notice a lag in their maps refreshing—most mapping apps store enough info that it’s not a big deal.” He tapped the steering wheel as he thought. “But still, I checked with Dr. Carruthers’ office. Turns out he’s on vacation until the end of next week. Bill would never drive that far without calling ahead first, so he would have known that. Or, more likely, he already knew it—he and the Idaho County Sheriff keep each other up to date with things like that.”

  “So Judith is covering for Dr. Carruthers?”

  Gleason rolled his eyes. “Not any more. The last time she was out of town, a couple in an RV died up at the Willowbank Campground just outside of town. Carruthers found traces of a suspicious powder and called it a homicide—cyanide poisoning. He said it was almost impossible to test for with an autopsy, but he was certain. Then when Judith got back and checked it out for herself, she found the exhaust was leaking into the cabin, tested for carbon monoxide, and it turned out she was right. He was super embarrassed since he’d called in the State Police and their crime scene unit, had folks running this way and that searching for a killer who wasn’t there. Ever since then, he gets a doctor from Lewiston to cover for him, and she tries not to go out of town.”

  They reached the intersection, Bill’s truck exactly where she’d left it a few hours ago. Lucy hopped out. “Can I keep the bear map?” she asked. “My daughter will think it’s cool. It might be the only souvenir she gets from this trip.”

  “Sure. The website password is on the bottom—she can log in, check out the live stream, even sign up to get alerts when a trap is active.”

  “Can she see the wolves, too? Knowing Megan, they’ll be much more fascinating to her than the bears.”

  He chuckled. “Typical bloodthirsty teenager, they always root for the predators. Sure, all the videos are archived. And if she’s really interested, we’re always looking for volunteers to help review the footage. Not just for predators but to look for patterns of all the animals using those trails.”

  “Thanks. Take care.” She left and got into Bill’s truck, then did a three-point turn to head back west toward Deena’s.

  As she drove, she pictured a map of Bill’s route according to his cell records. The text yesterday—if that hadn’t come from him, why send it? What purpose had it served?

  It moved the search area farther north and east. Why would someone want that? To send the searchers away from Bill? That would suggest he was still alive and in a location south or west of the search area.

  The geologists were also south of the search area and to the west. But if Gus had hired them to survey his own land, why go to such a convoluted method to steer the searchers clear of the survey? And how would they have gotten access to Bill’s phone?

  Still, she wished she’d gotten the full names of all the geologists so she could have Wash run a background check. Judith would know the two who’d flown in with Lucy and Nick; Lucy would ask her next time she saw her. But those two had solid alibis—they’d been in North Dakota the day Bill vanished and in the plane with her, Nick, and Judith when the last text came through.

  Which brought her to the only other reason she could think for someone to send that last text and make it look like it was from Bill: to establish an alibi. But what good would an alibi do anyone without a body to determine time of death?

  Then she thought of one final reason—the one she’d been avoiding all along. The text was actually from Bill. He really was acting irrationally, staying out a full night before sending it, maybe contemplating what he was about to do. And the text was his final goodbye.

  She shook her head, almost missing the turn to Deena and Bill’s cabin. No. She didn’t believe it. Not because she believed Bill wasn’t vulnerable to depression, but his messages to her—he’d sounded excited, involved. Not like someone pushed to the brink of despair.

  Plus, he would never do that to Deena. To leave her to worry for days not knowing… He knew what that kind of waiting did to a cop’s wife, how painful it was even if there was good news at the end. No, if he were going to kill himself, he’d protect Deena from finding the body and from any uncertainty.

  At least she hoped so.

  She arrived at the cabin a little more than forty minutes after Nick’s call. She’d just parked and gotten out of the truck when a middle-aged man in a Forest Service uniform, complete with Smokey Bear hat, came out of the front door, shutting it carefully behind him. His expression was grim as he nodded at Lucy without saying a word and got into a forest green Tahoe.

  She watched him drive away, bracing herself for what might be waiting inside, and then climbed the steps to the porch and knocked on the door. Nick opened it and joined her outside. “I’m glad you came.”

  “Did they find something?”


  “No. That’s the problem. No sign of Bill or his Jeep. The ranger wants to refocus away from the forest and the ground search, and concentrate on roads instead.”

  “Is that his call to make?”

  “That’s why he came. To discuss it with Deena—explain that it wasn’t giving up, just working the percentages that Bill was last seen with his vehicle, and since they haven’t found it, odds are that Bill is still with it. Which means roads, not forest.”

  She frowned. It made sense—in fact, it had been her instinct this morning, to treat the search more like a manhunt, as if Bill were a fugitive on the run, not wanting to be found. But it still didn’t feel right.

  “Anyway,” Nick continued. “Officially, as acting sheriff, Judith has the final say. They already alerted a tri-state area and the border to be on a lookout for Bill’s Jeep, so she wants to continue the ground search. Especially with the text Bill sent yesterday. They got into it right in front of Deena—”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Not really.” He hesitated. “Her mom and sister have been preparing her for the worst. Including that maybe that text from Bill was a suicide note. I guess he’s been pretty upset lately about a case in Denver where a child victim ended up killing herself when it fell apart.”

  “So you think he could—it’s a possibility?”

  “Who’s to say? That’s the problem. There won’t be any answers for anyone until he’s found. Anyway, Judith convinced Deena to take a sleeping pill—she’d been up for almost three days straight.”

  Lucy glanced at the house, ashamed at the relief that washed over her. She was no good at sitting vigil. In fact, she couldn’t help but think that maybe Nick had been right last night, and she’d made things worse for Deena instead of helping.

  “I saw Bill’s office,” Nick said, effortlessly following her thoughts. “I’m not sure you were totally off track.”

  “That there might be a serial killer?”

  “That Bill thought he might have found a serial killer. That doesn’t make it true. You know how easy it can be to make connections that aren’t real.”

  “This is Bill. He’s not delusional.”

  “I’m not saying he was, I’m just saying we don’t know what was going on in his mind. Particularly in the last few days before he vanished.”

  She blew her breath out in frustration. “Did you eat lunch yet?”

  “There’s plenty of food inside.”

  But also Deena’s family. And Judith, who seemed to revel in hovering, feeding off crisis. Although that wasn’t fair, Lucy had never had a chance to see the veterinarian in any other situation. Still… “Let’s go back to town and check out the café. Maybe we can talk to the folks at the sheriff’s station and see what they thought about Bill’s serial killer theory.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  There was only one other customer at the cafe, a white-haired man enjoying a BLT as he read a newspaper—a real paper newspaper. No screens in sight. The sight made Nick feel as if he’d stepped into an Edward Hopper painting.

  “Your parents convinced Megan to go camping,” Lucy told him as they waited for their meals.

  “Camping camping? Or a hike that ends up at a day spa?”

  “Actual tent and sleeping bag camping. She said she wanted to see the places you went when you were growing up. Your photos inspired her.”

  “Maybe she’ll have fun—like she did when she was little. Remember that trip when she was what, three?”

  “It stormed so hard half the mountain slid down past our tent.”

  “But you showed her how to make little clay pots with the mud and cooked them in the fire. Then we zipped the sleeping bags together and we all cuddled inside the tent.” Megan still had that tiny lop-sided reddish clay pot sitting on her bookcase alongside her Kempo and shooting trophies.

  Lucy smiled. “I remember. And that night after the storm passed, we sat up counting shooting stars and making wishes.”

  “It felt like we were the only people in the universe.” He reached for her hand. “We’ve been blessed with so many of those perfect moments. More than most.”

  She ducked her head, unable to meet his eyes. But she couldn’t hide her thoughts, not from him. Because for every perfect moment, there’d been just as many harrowing moments with her family worrying about her. The price of her doing her job—a price he and Megan paid.

  “You heard Bill’s messages.” She changed the subject, although not really. “Do you really think that was a man getting ready to kill himself?”

  Their food arrived—a salad with grilled chicken for him, a buffalo burger for her—saving him from answering right away. “I’m not sure. That case from back in Denver, the victim who committed suicide, sounded like it really threw him. And this obsession with uncovering a possible serial killer—”

  “Obsession?” Lucy jerked her chin up. “You think he truly was obsessed? Maybe even delusional?”

  Nick chose his words carefully. “You know I can’t diagnose anyone with the scraps of information we have, but he definitely sounded driven.”

  “Gus said he and Bill met several times to discuss what Gus remembered of those old cases. He was skeptical at first, but by the end, he believed Bill. That there was something more going on.”

  A lonely, bored old man anxious to be involved in some drama, was Nick’s first thought. But that was the problem—first impressions were all he had to go on. Except… “Let’s start with the Bill we know. He talked to you about his cases back in Denver. Did he ever seem obsessive with them? Likely to let his imagination carry him to extremes?”

  “Like convinced there’s a serial killer hiding in plain sight in rural Idaho?” She took a bite of her burger—it was so thick, she had to mash it down to fit into her mouth. She chewed slowly and thought. “No. If anything, I’m more the type to run off chasing a theory, getting obsessed, than Bill ever was. He’s cautious, painstaking, and meticulous the way he builds his cases, double-checking every piece of data.”

  “Let’s assume he hasn’t changed since we saw him last. Does what you saw in his home office jive with the investigator you just described?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, no doubt imagining the chaos of Bill’s office. “Yes,” she finally said, her expression clearing for the first time since they’d arrived. “I know it looked jumbled and unorganized, but he saw a pattern there. But I think he wasn’t certain, which is why he was running down every bit of information. Talking to people like Gus who were around during the killings. Reviewing the coroners’ reports and lab results.” She met his gaze head on. “Nick, he wasn’t obsessed or delusional. He was slowly, painstakingly working a case.”

  “Okay, so where do we go from here?”

  “His laptop was missing from his home office—Deena thought he either had it with him in the Jeep or had left it at the sheriff’s station.” She took another bite, staring out the window across the empty street to the old bank building that housed the Magruder County government offices. “Maybe he also had written case notes—Bill was old school like that.”

  “You want to search his office at the sheriff’s station?”

  Her grin was the first true smile he’d seen since they’d left Pittsburgh. “Do you feel like providing a diversion?”

  How could he say no?

  Once they’d finished eating, they wandered over to the sheriff’s office. Which was also the county clerk’s office, the post office, and the county-wide dispatcher’s office for first responders. The lobby still resembled the bank the offices had displaced, with a waiting area separated from the work area behind the former tellers’ counter.

  Only one person was there—Harriet, the older woman who had helped to coordinate the search yesterday. A bell chimed as the door closed behind them, and Harriet turned from a wall-sized map where she was pasting colored sticky notes. Radio chatter from the search served as background noise. Her smile of welcome froze and died when she saw
Lucy. The two women had definitely not gotten along yesterday when Lucy tried to convince Harriet to add her to a search party—and Harriet now bristled.

  “FBI or not, I’m not sending you out with a team,” she said, before Lucy could even offer a greeting.

  “Actually, Deena sent us,” Nick said, leaning across the counter with its postal meter, pay station, and computer. “She asked if we could gather up a few of Bill’s personal items from his office.”

  “Just a few photos and the like,” Lucy added, staying behind Nick.

  “Not that she’s expecting the worst,” Nick hastened to add. “But if she has to go on TV and make a public appeal—”

  Harriet nodded at that, her eyes wide with the thought of TV crews here in quiet Poet Springs. “Sure, I get that.”

  The phone rang and Harriet turned to get it. “911, what’s your emergency?” She listened. “No. Walter, I don’t care how inconvenient it is, I’m not sending the fire department all the way out to your place to climb up your roof and adjust your satellite for you. I don’t care if you are missing Judge Judy, we’ve got real emergencies going on around here.”

  Lucy made a swooshing “Relax, I got it” gesture and pushed through the swinging gate at the end of the counter. She passed the desks to Bill’s office in the corner behind Harriet.

  “No, we haven’t found him yet.” Harriet followed Lucy’s progress with a frown but then pulled her focus back to the phone. “I know, it’s been too long. I’ll add your prayers to the list. Now don’t you go climbing up there by yourself, you’ll fall and break a hip for sure. Once the search teams are done for the day, I’ll send Campbell out. You’re welcome.” She hung up.

  “Wow, you really do do it all around here,” Nick said. He nodded at the gate, and Harriet smiled her permission. He joined her at the map, conveniently keeping her back to Bill’s office. “What do all these notes mean?”

  “These are sectors where we’ve done hasty searches.” She pointed to the pink slips of paper. “These we’ve finished more in-depth grid searches.” There were considerably fewer of the yellow notes. “And these,” she indicated a variety of thumbtacks, “are reported sightings—none of which have checked out. Folks just want to get involved, feel useful, I guess.”