Death Canyon (27 page)

Philly, New York, L.A., Houston. Not every city had a special investigations unit, but those were the big ones. The targets of the Big
Office were dying off, so the talent from the Big Office had flooded those markets when it downsized. Jake had been one of the transfers.

The focus at the Philly Office was totally different from the fed deal. It was all about TCP, threat investigation and control (local), crimes (major), and police affairs.

Low-level shit,
relatively speaking. It hadn't particularly interested Jake, but he found it preferable to sitting in an office.

The work itself varied, but it always came back to TCP.

TCP.
The acronym that had defined Jake's life for three years.
Everything
was TCP. If it wasn't, it got handed down to the local or state cops. If it wasn't, it meant nothing to Jake.

The office was occasionally commissioned by police departments for internal affairs matters, but most often major crimes investigations and terrorist threat evaluation came from the feds. Sometimes the office's own sources found information that merited investigation.

The office, along with a couple of other city departments, was in Tier One, which meant they had first access to the big guns—SWAT, police negotiators, and heavy artillery and equipment. Jake had hated when it came to that.

The secrecy surrounding the office had more to do with containment than anything else. Rumblings of terroristic threats and major crimes caused chaos. Fear. Internal investigations of public officers or whole departments made people doubt their public servants. More fear, more chaos.

*  *  *

“Buddy, you're buzzing.” J.P. snapped Jake out of it.

It was Noelle. She sounded anxious.

“He's in town tonight. He wants to meet around seven in the
square. It's a friend's birthday; they're going dancing, and he said I could join them.”

“Perfect. Stay put and I'll pick you up. Well done, Noelle.”

Jake asked for the bill. When they got in the car, J.P. wanted to know what was going on. “I can help, man, I swear.”

“There's no reason to,” Jake replied dryly. “You're still dealing with your injuries. Plus, if you come along, it will only hurt our chances. I just want it to be me and Noelle. I'm going to drive you into town. I want you to stay at a friend's house. Our place isn't safe.”

“I'll second that,” J.P. said, chortling. “If you need me, call me. I'll probably end up at Ted's house.”

For the rest of the ride into town, Jake thought about his strategy. He wanted to confront Ricker in public, but away from the group. He also needed a reason to be there. He thought of presenting himself as a cop, but quickly discarded that idea. Jackson was too small. Ricker may very well know all the police on the force, especially given his run-ins with them. He settled on a newspaper reporter. Jake would bluff, telling Ricker he had enough information to get him arrested. If Ricker revealed more of the story, he could walk away without being implicated. It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was the best he had.

In town, J.P. hopped out. Jake continued north toward Noelle's cabin. It was a beautiful evening, but almost too nice. Like the eye of a hurricane. Elk were beginning to leave the safety of the trees and feeding on the margins between sagebrush flats and pine forests. The coyotes were out looking for field mice and carcasses.

The SUV came to an abrupt stop outside Noelle's cabin. She was waiting on the porch. It was 6:35 p.m. Jake didn't bother to
get out. Noelle jumped right in. Her attire surprised Jake; she was dressed to the nines, ready to go out dancing as her invitation suggested. She looked beautiful in the angular light of the early evening. As Jake searched for words to compliment her, she spoke.

“We've gotta hurry, Jake.” He nodded at her and put the car in reverse.

Jake sensed their mutual nervousness as they drove back to town. Noelle, he knew, wasn't versed in the art of deception. And he was rusty himself.

“What do I say to him?” she asked.

“If it goes as planned, you won't have to say much. I just want you to say hi, a couple minutes of small talk. I'll confront him as soon as he seems to buy into it enough that he won't immediately run.”

Jake explained the reporter guise. She seemed to think it would work.

“Do I stay there with you after?” Noelle's tone suggested that she wanted to.

“No. Absolutely not. You go back to the car. Just walk away.” Jake neglected to tell her about the explosion and the seven-millimeter shell. No need to frighten her. He considered for a moment that he was using her, putting her in danger. Maybe he should call the whole thing off.
No.
He needed to know what was going on before it was too late. If she walked away like they discussed, the danger was minimized.

“Okay.” Noelle nodded, holding eye contact a second longer than usual, like she was looking for some hidden meaning in his eyes.

Jake parked in the town square's public lot. It was getting chillier now as the sun dropped lower in the sky. Noelle pulled on the white, open-meshed cotton sweater that she had clutched in her hands during the ride. She tucked some errant strands of hair behind her ears.

She looked at her watch. It was already seven. “Let's go.”

Noelle walked along the east sidewalk of Broadway, while Jake crossed over and took the west, so that they wouldn't be seen together. From a block away, she noticed a group of seven or eight gathered near the elk antler arch on the southwest corner of the square. Locals, no doubt. None of them were taking pictures of the arch. The men wore jeans or Carhartts and stylish western button-downs with fleeces over them. It had to be them.

She could hear them as she approached. “What are we waiting for again, Graem? I need a beer like crazy, dude. Long day . . .”

“Some
girl,
” one of the females said. A short, skinny man with a tan face and sandals on looked embarrassed.
Ricker.
He was wearing ratty, old cargo shorts and a hooded sweatshirt with a ski logo on it. His face matched the picture on the website and her memory. That was her mark.

“Seriously?” the first man retorted. “We're waiting out here so Ricker can get laid? Do it on your own time!”

“C'mon, guys, take it easy,” Ricker urged.

“Graem?” Noelle said, smiling, as she approached the circle. She was now about twenty feet away. Jake heard her speak and took notice. He was ready to cross the street as soon as the traffic light changed.

“Noelle?” Her looks caught everyone by surprise. “How are you? Been too long!” They hugged for a second.

“Right?” Noelle smacked him playfully on the chest. “You rip around pretty good on the slopes, if I remember right. Didn't know you were still in town.”

Jake was walking fast across the crosswalk with his head down. While Ricker was trying to come up with something witty to say, Jake interrupted with a stern voice.

“Mr. Ricker? Graem Ricker?” Jake's face was under the shadow of the ball cap he put on as he crossed. “I need to talk with you in private, right now.”

Without missing a beat, Noelle crossed the street the way Jake had come. Ricker spun to see her leave, a look of utter confusion on his face.

“What's your problem, man?” one of the men in the group yelled.

“Stay out of it and there won't be any problem,” Jake said calmly.

“Lucky I'm on parole, man. I'd fuck your shit up!”

The crowd started to disperse, laughing and hooting.

“You need to come with me.” Jake turned to face Ricker again.

“What the hell, man? Who are you?” Anger and confusion washed over Ricker's face.

“I'm a reporter, Graem,
Salt Lake Sun
.” Jake flashed his wallet as though it had credentials. “And I need to talk to you about the avalanche.” Jake stared him down. Suddenly, the man's furious look morphed into a sinister smile.

“Bullshit! I call bullshit!” Ricker looked around as if someone was there to be impressed. “I know who you are, you sonofabitch! You're Trent, man!”

Jake had to reformulate his plan quickly. Thinking on his feet, he remained calm, but his intensity increased. “Wow, you're a real genius, kid. It doesn't matter, though. I need to talk to you about
this avalanche and I think you'll wanna talk to me, too, once you realize the stakes.”

Ricker laughed. “Fuck you, asshole.” He turned and started to walk away.

Jake was too quick for him. He grabbed Ricker's shoulder firmly from behind and whispered in his ear. “I know you staged that slide up on Maelstrom. I know you waited around for the sun to toast the snow, begging to slide. Sure, an earthquake started it, but you were gonna do it anyway. I can put you in jail, Graem, or worse.”

The skinny man stopped walking and cursed. “You don't know shit! I didn't kill anybody, man!” He was still facing ahead with Jake's hand on his shoulder.

“I think you know something about who or what is killing people in Jackson, Graem.”

When Ricker started to laugh, Jake dug his fore- and middle fingers into the sensitive tissue beneath his clavicle, just as he was taught.

“Aaaaarrghh!” Ricker buckled to his knees in pain. Jake let off to avoid attracting the attention of passersby.

Ricker sat for a moment on his knees and considered his options. “Shit. Shit. Shit! Okay, follow me to my car but stay back a ways. Don't make it obvious.” Jake helped him to his feet.

Ricker, twenty yards in front of Jake, looked around and got into the driver's seat of an old, white Subaru wagon. As Jake approached, he looked around, fearing a trap. It looked safe, not too quiet and nothing suspicious. Jake entered the passenger side.

“Okay.” Ricker turned on the radio, presumably in case Jake was wearing a wire.
Not as dumb as he looks.

“I told you what I want. It's your show now.” Jake watched Ricker, hoping for some clue that he wouldn't give away verbally.

“I don't know shit. I was set up, man!”

“Set up for what?” Jake growled. He was growing impatient.

“I don't know.”

Jake brought his left hand slowly to his face and stroked his scruff for a moment. He could sense Ricker's apprehension. They made eye contact for a moment. Ricker was breathing heavily.

Will he break?
Jake wondered.
Only one way to find out.

With lightning speed, Jake reached behind Ricker's head and slammed it forward, breaking the man's nose on the steering wheel.

“What the hell, man?! Shit!” Blood was pouring onto Ricker's lap.

Jake calmly looked around to make sure no one had seen them and then reached down to the cluttered floor of the Subaru, grabbed a dirty T-shirt, and handed it to Ricker, who held it against his bleeding face. He was panting now. Spitting blood from his mouth between fast, shallow breaths.

“This isn't a game you want to play with me, Graem.”

Ricker let out a low whimper, then looked around the empty street, wishing there was someone to help him.

“Shit, shit, shit. Shit! Okay, it's not who, it's more like what.”

Jake wrung out his hands, causing his knuckles to crack. Exactly the effect he wanted.

Ricker looked at Jake's hands and then spoke again. “I-I-It's like a group—a cult or something. Nobody really knows what the other members are doing. And to set the record straight, I didn't kill that kid up there. I would never do that, no matter what. I didn't know how crazy these people were before I got involved.”

Jake gave Ricker a thorough look
.
“Then what happened?”

“Shit went bad, that's what happened. As far as I knew, we were up there just to try to start a slide. When we got near the top, he was . . . Marcus was his name . . . Marcus was talking about who we were gonna push the slide onto. You see what I'm saying? He was talking about starting a slide that would hit hikers or skiers below us.”

“Why?”

“Marcus was nuts. I had just met him that morning, but he was clearly not sane. When nobody walked beneath Maelstrom for a few hours, he went out onto the slope and started jumping up and down, chanting and stuff. When I asked him what he was doing he told me he was begging Mother Earth to take him.”

“Then what?”

“You know the rest, basically. I got my skis on and slid out there to try to stop him. Pull him off the slope. He was being so loud, I was scared he would attract attention and get us in trouble. When I was about thirty feet away, a damn quake hit and the slope broke free. That was that. I guess his prayers came true.”

“Why were you even up there? Why would anyone start an avalanche on purpose?” Jake's mind was working quickly to answer his own question as he asked it.

“Are you serious? You, man. You're why.”

“What?”

“You. Everything you and other people like you stand for. That's what this is all about, you know.”

Jake gave him a quizzical look. “And what is it that I stand for exactly, Graem?” He was getting angry.
What the hell is this guy talking about? He doesn't even know a thing about me.

The kid seemed a little nervous. He was sensing Jake's frustration and didn't want him to boil over. “You know, like people
who . . . umm . . . don't care about the future, don't care about the earth. That development—the one south of town. Some people don't care for your support of it.”

Jake had to laugh. “What would you say if I told you I've spent the last two months opposing that project?”

“Wait, what?”

“Who told you I was to blame for the approval of that project?”

Ricker shifted in the driver's seat. “Well, I told you it's not that easy. It's a bunch of people and there is no leader or anything, it's just—”