"Should we find out? I've got
all your psychiatric records, going back to the early eighties. We can
do this all night long if we want to. I brought a thermos of coffee. Nobody's
gonna
bother us. Should I go on? Yes? No? Maybe?"
Roy shook his head vehemently.
"Want me to stop? For real
this time?"
He nodded.
Jack put the folder down. "Where'd
you bury her?"
Roy gave a loud grunt.
They stared at each other.
"Where'd you bury Anna Hubbard?"
His chest heaved up and down.
"Look, Roy," Jack said,
moving in close. "Give it up, and we'll cut you a deal. Life without
parole. You want to avoid the death penalty, don't you?"
The prisoner's eyes welled with
tears.
"You'll tell me everything?"
He nodded.
"No more bullshit? No more
games?"
"
Mmf
,"
came the muffled response. "
Mmf
!"
Jack took out a topological
map, then ripped the duct tape off Roy's mouth, leaving a band of reddened
skin where the tape had been. "Okay. So. Where'd you bury the
body?"
"High country," he gasped.
"East of Pine Canyon."
Opening a map of the San Gabriel
Mountains, Jack flattened it against the tabletop. "Show me."
Roy pointed. "Around this
area here… just off an unmarked trail."
Jack handed him a pencil.
"Mark it on the map."
Roy shook his head. "I
can't."
"That's not the response I
wanted to hear."
"I don't remember. I can only
identify the specific location when I'm there. On the ground. In person."
Jack grabbed him by the collar and
squeezed. "Daisy's not
gonna
be there.
You're not dragging her through another one of your fucking dramas, understand?"
Roy gave an abrupt nod.
"No more bullshit, or your
ass is grass." Jack released him. "Okay, let's go."
Daisy fished her car keys out of
her pocket and headed for the promenade. Gillian had given her an address.
Was it a lie? Was it a false lead? The frightened girl wouldn't even tell
her if Anna was okay or not. She'd just scribbled the information on a
scrap of paper and run off. Now Daisy's head was spinning. She was in
shock, but she had to stay focused. Anna needed her. The heels of her shoes
crackled over the gritty sidewalk as she hurried back to her rental car,
got in behind the wheel and started the engine. Anna's alive. She could
feel it in the pit of her stomach. Her sister was alive. She could hardly
believe it.
Daisy seriously doubted that Anna
had killed anyone. She believed instead that, in a delusional state,
her sister might've helped Roy Gaines with his grisly acts. She didn't want
to think about that right now. She had to find Anna and get her back on her
meds, just find her sister safe and sound. There would be plenty of time
to figure out the rest of it later on.
The engine rumbled like one of
those machines that tumbled pebbles, and she got back onto the boulevard
and joined the steady stream of traffic. She rolled her window down, letting
in a rush of hot gritty air. Traffic was slow, but the wind whipping into
the car created the illusion of speed. She had a few prescription bottles
in her backpack-Anna's medication, her antipsychotics and antidepressants.
If it was true that Anna was alive, then Daisy would have to coax her sister
into taking some pills tonight. It reminded her of all the times she'd
tried to reason with Anna by pretending to believe that there was a conspiracy
against her, a tactic that seldom worked.
Daisy took the 405 south. Time
passed like liquid mercury, the elusive way it slipped over your palm.
The sound of the hot gritty wind rushing into the car grew deafening, and
she rolled her window back up, unsure of where she was going. Directions
had been sketchy.
After fifteen minutes, she eased
off the freeway, then came to a stop at the bottom of the exit ramp. To her
left was a cement divider, to her right the ruins of an empty parking lot.
She took a left and shivered, wondering what was in store for her. What
if this was a trap? What if Roy Gaines had other accomplices? What if Anna
was being held against her will in this desolate part of town? Or worse,
what if Anna was bouncing-off-the-walls psychotic? What if she had killed
those people? What would Daisy do then?
She drove through an industrial
section of town, past the grisly bones of California poverty-burned-out
crack houses, gutted strip malls, graffiti-covered cars. A pickup truck
was stalled beneath an overpass, and the frustrated driver stood waving
his arms as if he were conducting a symphony.
"Hold on," Daisy whispered,
catching sight of her perspiring face in the rearview mirror.
"I'm coming, Anna. Hold on."
The Angeles Crest Highway was
the longest canyon drive in L.A. County, rough on the suspension but
well worth the trip. The view was spectacular. The route was tight and winding,
with very little traffic at this late hour and just an occasional falling
rock or two. Jack wound his way uphill into high country, the Ford's rebuilt
engine rattling, while the prisoner stared at him through the rearview
mirror, never once averting his gaze.
"Take a right." Roy sat quietly
in the backseat, his cuffed hands folded in his lap.
Jack took a right off the highway
onto an
unposted
road that twisted up through
the forested canyon, where they drove past tall pines and little else-no
gas stations, no stores, no telephone poles. He reduced his speed and
checked his tank, which was less than half full. He reminded himself that
the area was never patrolled at night.
"Take this next left coming
up," Roy said. Jack turned down a one-lane, dirt and gravel road,
then glanced in the rearview mirror. The prisoner was looking out the
window now. He seemed to have regained his composure and was calm in
his defeat. Jack was confident he'd lead him to Anna Hubbard's grave
this time. Roy
Hildreth's
past was a nightmare
he didn't want to relive.
The car climbed up the next canyon,
and on its way down, they passed a run-down cabin surrounded by weeping
willows. Across the street from the overgrown cabin was a dried-up streambed
where the canyon opened onto a sand wash. "Stop," Roy said. Jack
braked and got out.
The full moon was high in the sky
and would provide them with enough light to hike by. Jack opened the back
door and yanked the prisoner out by his jumpsuit. The leg irons made
him walk like a penguin. "I can't move with these things on."
Jack was fully aware that Roy might be setting a trap for him in this isolated
section of forest. "Turn toward the car. Lean over the hood. Don't
make any sudden moves." Roy did as he was told, and Jack knelt in the
dirt and unlocked the leg manacles, then tossed them into the backseat,
where they clanged together noisily. Then he got his heavy-duty flashlight
and emergency shovel out of the trunk.
"Okay, let's go." He pushed
Roy in front of him and kept his gun aimed at the prisoner's spine. They were
way out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by pine trees and little
else. A feverish wind rushing through the dry needles made the treetops
creak and sigh, while high overhead, Jupiter and Venus twinkled distantly
in the hazy night sky.
"Where to?" Jack said.
"That unmarked trailhead
across the street."
"Try anything, and I'll shoot
you in the back."
The air was gummy hot. The trail skirted
the western edge of the canyon. Jack could feel the hum of many insects,
even though he couldn't see them. They occasionally buzzed around his
ears and landed on his sweaty face. The trail turned sharply at the elbow
before wandering deeper into the woods. Soon the trees became behemoths,
and through their distant upper branches, he could make out the Big Dipper.
The North Star, although not the brightest star in the sky, was the easiest
one to locate-you just followed the two "pointer" stars on the
Big Dipper. Soon Jack got his bearings. They were heading east.
Roy spoke. "Aren't you even curious?"
"About what?"
"Why I did it."
"Sure, Roy. Why'd you do
it?"
"Justice," he said.
"Uh-huh." Jack pointed
at the trail ahead with his flashlight beam. "Keep moving."
The heavy-duty handcuffs were
positioned at the navel, allowing Roy limited use of his hands. The carbon-steel
waist chain had been designed for high-security transport and featured
steel swivels for extra strength and durability. The handcuffs were
fitted with oversize rivet heads and double locks so that you'd need
two keys to open them. Jack kept his service revolver aimed at Roy's back
as they continued moving along the trail.
Above them, high in the night sky,
heavenly bodies shone faintly down through the smog layer-distant stars
and ice planets and restless asteroids. Inwardly, Jack was beginning
to have his doubts. Tonight's actions could mean the end of his career,
although it wouldn't be the first time he'd risked everything for a woman.
Earlier that evening, he'd filled out a Prisoner Escort Record. Due to
time constraints, he'd managed to get only one of the required signatures,
and so, in one of those rash acts of desperation he was known for, Jack
forged the other signature. Hours later, he'd used the phony Prisoner
Escort Record to dispatch the prisoner out of the facility. "It's
over there," Roy said.
A dozen yards or so down the slope
of the canyon was a mound of earth covered in dry branches. Jack could
smell cedar on the stagnant air as they crossed a wooden plank that'd been
placed horizontally over an eroded ditch. They stumbled down the incline.
"Stay in front of me," Jack said. "Easy. Okay, stop. Spread your
feet."
Roy stood before him with his hands
cuffed and his legs apart while Jack aimed his light around at the trees.
He needed to find a branch that was secure enough to handcuff the prisoner
to.
Centuries of gravity and wind had
shaped these ancient conifers, their branches growing outward rather
| than upward. Jack chose a particularly gnarled giant, then aimed his
gun at Roy's head and said, "Walk over there. Slowly."
Roy did as he was told.
"Okay, stop," Jack said.
"Legs apart. Your back to me.
Roy turned around.
Jack got the keys out of his pocket
and approached the prisoner with caution. "Don't even think about
it," he said, testing a couple of branches before he found a nice
sturdy one. He grabbed Roy's left hand, unlocked the handcuff, unraveled
the belly chain and cuffed Roy's right hand to the conifer tree. The prisoner's
left hand was free now, but he wouldn't be going anywhere soon. Jack took
a step back and holstered his weapon.
Roy put his free hand to good use
by plucking a pack of cigarettes out of his jumpsuit pocket. "Got
a light?" he said, knocking a cigarette out of the pack and slipping
it between his lips.
Jack lit the cigarette for him,
holding his eye a cautious beat. Then he walked over to the grave site
and, extending his emergency shovel, began to dig.
He dug and dug, and soon the heady
smell of overturned earth filled his nostrils. There would be nothing
left of Anna Hubbard's corpse but leather and bones. Justice. What
kind of justice was that? Justice for whom? He felt bad for her aborted life.
He dug for several minutes more
before the blade of his shovel hit something soft. He dug with focused
energy until a small object knuckled out of the ground. He picked it up
and dusted it off. It was a brown leather wallet. He opened it and took
out the driver's license.
The California license belonged
to a man from Fresno named Andy Johnson. He was twenty years old.
"What the…" Jack looked up. "What the hell is this?"
Roy stood in silhouette, the
orange ember of his cigarette circling the dark. "Keep digging,"
he said.
A chill ran along Jack's spine. He
retrieved his shovel and dug until he'd unearthed a skeletal hand with
a man's wristwatch attached. The message was clear. He'd been set up.
"You lying bastard." "Keep digging."
"What is this? What's going
on?" Roy's voice was emptied of all feeling. "Just dig," he
said, blowing out a trail of smoke.
Heart going like gangbusters,
Jack knelt in the dirt and dug frantically with his hands. He had vastly underestimated
the prisoner's capacity for deception. The corpse wore a dove-gray
suit and a checkered tie. Jack staggered to his feet and roared,
"Where is she?"
"Jesus Christ!" Gaines
was on fire. He must've dropped his cigarette, because the underbrush
was ablaze around him, withered wildflowers and last year's dry leaves
creating a tinderbox that whooshed outward from Roy
Hildreth
in all directions.
"Jesus, help me!" The prisoner
stood handcuffed to the tree, stomping his feet and trying to put out the
fire that was licking up his pant legs now.
One match, one flame, one second-that
was all it took. Wind and fire made a deadly combination. The dried-out
pine needles Uttering the ground had gone up with a whoosh, and smoke
filled the air as the flames spread rapidly.
Jack didn't think; he reacted. He
grabbed his emergency shovel and raced over to put out the fire. He shoveled
dirt on the flames and smacked at the burning grass with the flat of the blade
while a thick toxic smoke clogged his lungs.
"Jesus! I'm on fire!"
Roy's pant legs were still burning.
Jack knelt in front of him and slapped
at the smoldering jumpsuit with his hands, not wanting to bring Roy back
to prison with third-degree burns. He patted the smoking fabric and sucked
air so fast he started to hyperventilate. The smell of soot and dirt covered
everything. He coughed, then gasped in surprise as the belly chain looped
down around his neck.