Chapter 22
Maxim's Audi hit a dip in the dirt road and his head bumped against the door frame. The sports car had a stiff suspension; it wasn't built for this environment. The detective checked the rearview mirror for the twelve-year-old hunched in the tiny back seat.
"You okay, Annabelle?"
The girl mostly ignored him, wide eyes glued to the window, but she afforded him a nod. Her attention was affixed to the land—the trees, the sky, the tracks. Maxim was taking special notice of Annabelle's attention. Her presence here was not ideal, but with another child missing, it was necessary. Annabelle's memory could be the difference between the life or death of Hazel Cunningham.
Although Annabelle was focused outside the car, her hands were fiddling with her key chain. With only a few keys, the bulk of the jingle came from the collection of ornaments. As her hands played with the key chain, Annabelle absentmindedly blinked an attached green LED flashlight on and off.
Maxim slowed his car and turned to the woman beside him. Olivia Hayes wore a taut smile and sat with her arms and legs crossed. Maxim was grateful that she didn't raise objections to this outing again. She looked his way with a terse warning. He returned a smile to lighten the mood.
Ahead of the car, Diego waved and pulled his motorcycle off the dirt road. Maxim parked behind the biker and watched him remove his helmet and gloves. With the car still running, the detective released a long sigh.
"This is it?" asked Olivia.
Maxim didn't answer. He scanned the road and the track and saw nothing but a mile of trees. His eyes followed Diego as he moved past the car towards a section of thinning trees. Something was there. Not a path, exactly, but a clearing.
"I think so," answered the detective. "Do you remember any of this Annabelle? The tracks?"
She shook her head. "I've never been here before."
Maxim winced. His little test was practically over before it started.
"Okay, this is what we're going to do. I want to check the place out first. Make sure it's safe." Maxim drew his Glock and made sure it was loaded before returning it to its holster. "Both of you should stay here until I get back."
"That's not the deal," said Olivia. "I don't want to be shut out of this. I'm cooperating under the condition that I know everything."
"I'll tell you—"
"I want to see it," she stressed. "Besides, at the house you said it was just an old man living alone." Olivia placed her hand over his. "I'm sure you can protect me. Annabelle, you stay in the car until I make sure it's okay for you to come out. Understood?"
"Yes, Mom."
"Whatever," said the detective, feeling a bit like a kid himself under her glare. He opened the door and got out. He would do it her way.
Diego leaned on a tree, watching the clearing. Maxim and Olivia approached him. Once they got closer, their angle to the clearing widened, and Maxim saw the dead trees and the RV. For a temporary camp, it appeared long used.
"He's a strange old man," said the biker. "He's definitely hiding something. But his mistake was leaving the skirt out. I saw it."
Maxim narrowed his eyes. "Through the windows, right?"
He felt Diego's pause. It gave credence to his suspicions. "Of course," answered the biker.
From here, Maxim could already tell the RV windows had blackout tints. This was why Maxim wanted to check out this lead alone, without Detective Harper. If Diego had done anything to compromise the investigation, Maxim wanted to put distance between any illegal acts and the rightful authorities. Maxim would simply treat this moment as first contact. As far as the courts would be concerned, everything was legit.
The detective glanced back at his TT. The sun shined off the silver paint. Annabelle was inside. She'd slid over to their side of the car and had her hands and face plastered to the window, staring at them. She was definitely curious about this place. For a girl apathetic to the world, that was notable, but he still hadn't seen any recognition.
"Okay. Let's go," he told them. Maxim marched forward and Diego grabbed his shoulder.
"Wait up," he said. "You can't just walk right up. He's home now. He'll see you."
Maxim shot Diego a smirk. "That's the point, isn't it?"
"Shouldn't you take out your gun at least?" asked Olivia.
"No." Maxim crossed his arms and faced them. "Listen up, both of you. We're following procedure here. I have a lead that I need to confirm. Just like everyone else, I need to give this man a chance to cooperate. I don't care what anyone thinks they saw, I need to see it with my own eyes before I jump to conclusions. Now, if you're concerned for your safety, stay here. Otherwise, you can come along, but I don't want anybody interrupting or doing anything to hinder the investigation. Got it?"
Olivia bit her lip, brushed her blonde hair from her face, and silently nodded. Diego simply looked away. The biker never liked being told what to do, but Maxim needed to do it. This was too important. Assuming they both understood, Maxim spun around and continued to the RV.
If it wasn't for the vehicle, this could have been a homeless shanty. A decrepit sofa. A pallet table. Meager possessions were placed haphazardly. Jugs and bottles everywhere. A wheelchair next to a fire pit. Maxim wondered what would make a person want to live like this.
On the way to the RV, they passed a strange pole planted in the ground. It was black, like old iron. Solid, but thin, and as tall as Maxim. There was a crossbar near the top, and the point above that was styled into a decorative fleur-de-lis.
Maxim paused and slid his hands along it. Something was familiar about the pole, as if he'd seen something like it before. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, he wondered what purpose it served. Then again, he could ask the same about any of the other junk.
Not unexpectedly, Maxim heard a door slam. He drew away from the post and checked the RV. He didn't see a door on the left side and figured the old man had seen them and exited from the other side. Maxim unclipped his badge from his belt and held it up in his left hand. His right hand remained free to draw his firearm at a moment's notice. They waited as Red circled the front cab and came into view.
"Sanctuary Marshal's Office," announced Maxim before the old man could greet them.
Immediately, Maxim felt it. Something was off. Red was built like a gorilla, with extended arms and large hands, but he was thin and hunched over. He wore a brace on his right leg and limped toward them, but something told Maxim it was an act. Like the wheelchair.
Red held a long chef's knife in his hand.
"Put the knife down!" ordered Maxim, resting his hand on his Glock. Red was dumbfounded and didn't move. "Put it down," urged Maxim again. He was still far enough away that the knife wasn't a threat, but he took a step backwards anyway.
Red came to his senses and turned his attention to the large blade. "Oh, this," he said, as if just noticing it. He slowly limped towards the stack of pallets and stabbed the knife into the tabletop. Next to the blade was a dead squirrel, and a fire crackled in the metal barrel. "It's just lunch."
The old man had a head of red hair. So that was where the nickname came from. But Maxim thought the color a little too crimson to be natural, especially for his age. "Do you have ID on you?"
"It's in the RV."
Red left the weapon behind and approached them again. Maxim let his weapon hand relax and put his badge away. The old man studied the three of them for a full minute before speaking. "I thought you were the park ranger," he grumbled. "I'm legal, you know. I paid all my tickets. Only been here a few days."
Maxim stepped ahead of Diego and Olivia to keep the focus on himself. "Since Easter night," he said.
Red's eyes narrowed and his face crumpled as he thought it over. "Yes, that's right. Who did you say you were again?"
"Detective Maxim Dwyer. I received a tip that you were in the area of Quiet Pines during a window in which a crime occurred. I was hoping to ask you a few questions."
"Of course." Red shot Diego a curious look. "What type of crime?"
"Will you allow me to search the premises?"
Red gnashed his teeth for a moment. "I thought you said you were a Sanctuary detective?"
"This is an unincorporated area, but you can still allow me to search."
"Why would I?"
"Because you're a concerned citizen."
"You still haven't told me what I have to be concerned about."
Maxim frowned. He might as well get on with it before letting Red decide to become combative. He pulled his phone from his jacket and scrolled through pictures from the case. Brown hair, fair skin, and a crooked smile with dimples greeted him.
"Have you seen this girl?" he asked.
Red squinted at the small screen. "I can't say that I have." He pulled back and considered the other visitors. "She is cute, though. She's not the one that got lost, is she?"
"How did you know about that?" asked Diego.
"I was up in town earlier today," he said. "Everyone was talking about it. That's why you're here, am I right? This girl disappeared from the campgrounds and you're looking for her." The old man stood up straighter, showing off his tall form. He leered at Olivia strangely, and Maxim regretted allowing her here.
"Do you know anything about her whereabouts?"
"Why would I?" he asked, without taking his eyes off Olivia.
"Then let me search your RV. Prove that you're not involved."
Red scoffed. "This is ridiculous! Why do I need to prove anything? It's innocent until proven guilty, isn't it? Besides, everybody at the local campsites knows me. I'm a regular at all of 'em. Why would I steal a child?"
The old man turned to go but Maxim put his hand to his chest to stop him. The detective felt strength beneath the sagging skin. "Don't leave just yet," said Maxim. "You might object to my searching your vehicle, but this is public property. I can look around the outside as much as I want. And I'm gonna need you to stand right here while I do."
Red's lips jutted out. "I'm tired."
"You can sit down," countered Maxim. He picked up the wheelchair and set it beside the man. Red grumbled but accepted the offer. He carefully lowered himself into the seat, leaving his braced leg straight.
Olivia helped him sit. "What happened to your leg?"
The old man stared into the distance, but he couldn't maintain that for long with such a beautiful woman so close. "An accident," he said. "When I was younger."
"Why'd you attempt to stay at the campsite Sunday night?" asked Maxim.
"To dispose of my shit," said Red. "I can't just leave it on the floor now, can I?"
Maxim nodded as he circled the clearing. "Who's the wheelchair for?"
"No one. Me. Some days my leg gives out is all. I'm not a cripple."
"Does anyone else live with you?"
"Does it look like it?"
Maxim peeked into the RV windows. The interior was dark and he couldn't see anything through the scratches in the tint, but as far as he was concerned, that was a judgment call.
"Do you have any children's clothes in your motor home?"
Red coughed up some spittle and wiped his mouth. "How'd you know about that?"
"Can you just answer the question?"
"I had a son. A long time ago. He died when he was five." Red stared into the distance again. "I don't like to talk about it."
The detective circled into Red's view and leaned close. "Why would you have a plaid skirt in there?"
"It's not a skirt. It's a kilt. From the old country. I'm a Scot."
Maxim frowned and walked past the old man again. He turned and made sure Diego saw his displeasure. The biker hissed and stormed to the other side of the RV.
"Don't go in there," warned Maxim.
"I'm just looking around the outside, like you said."
The detective closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. So much for catching the old man red-handed.
Chapter 23
Red handed the driver's license to Maxim and returned to his wheelchair again. The detective had gone with him to retrieve it, hoping to get a better look at the living space. Unfortunately, the ID was in the glove compartment in the cab. Either the old man had nothing to hide, or his skeletons were hidden in the rear.
It was a Texas license, which matched his plates. Like his insurance, it was up to date. "You're from the Lone Star State?"
Red shot out his lip. "As far as Uncle Sam is concerned. Government's nicer there. The land is nicer here."
Maxim studied the ID. Lachlan Munro. "So the 'old country' then, as you put it?"
"And proud of it. Had to move here when things got hard." Red eyed Maxim quizzically. "Still not sure I made the right decision."
Maxim snapped a photo of the ID before handing it back. Then he did the same with the plate on the back of the RV. He texted the picture to Gutierrez at the station and asked him to run it. If the old man had any outstanding warrants then the issue of consent to search became moot.
"What is this place?" asked Olivia. The prim woman had joined him at the back of the vehicle. She stared with disgust at the dilapidated sofa that rested against the bumper.
Maxim shook his head. He didn't know what to tell the woman. He'd stressed the importance of coming out here but was unsure how to proceed. He wasn't sure about Red. The man wasn't normal, that much he knew. The detective had no doubts the Scotsman had been on the wrong side of the law once or twice. People didn't disconnect like this without a reason. But without a clear link to Hazel, without an open warrant, they had nothing on him. In truth, Maxim wasn't sure the old man deserved his suspicion.
"Why, hello child!" said Red suddenly.
Maxim and Olivia exchanged a confused glance and then rounded the corner of the motor home. Red leaned forward in his seat, patting Annabelle on the head.
Her mother screamed.
Maxim ran to them. "Get away from her!" he yelled, scooping the preteen in his hands. He placed her a safe distance away and shot Red a warning stare.
"She came to me," he said. "I was sitting right here the whole time."
"It doesn't matter. I don't want you to touch her."
Diego rounded the RV from the other side to check on the commotion. His disappointment was obvious. There was nothing to see.
"I told you to stay in the car," chided Olivia.
"You were taking too long," replied Annabelle. "What's the problem? Isn't this the point?"
Olivia almost responded but Maxim didn't want that. "It's okay," he blurted out. Olivia glared at him but he nodded it off. The girl was right. The entire reason Annabelle was out here was to see if she recognized anything. It did no good to discipline her now.
"This is Lachlan," announced Maxim.
"Nobody calls me that," protested the man.
Maxim ignored him and addressed the girl. "Have you two met?"
The Scot made a funny face and Annabelle laughed. "He's an old man," she said, as if the insinuation was ridiculous.
"So you haven't seen him before? Or his motor home? Take a look at it."
Red spun around in the wheelchair and eyed his own RV. "Well anybody might've seen me drive—"
"I never saw it," she said.
Red nodded. "That's right. And what's this about anyway? Anybody that says I did anything is a liar."
"What about Red, Annabelle? Have you seen him around anywhere?"
The girl rolled her eyes. "No," she answered. "I wasn't taken and molested by an old man."
Olivia was shocked. "Annabelle!"
"So that's what this is about!" Red rested back in the wheelchair and shook his head as he watched the tree line. "Well, this is awkward."
Maxim again turned to Diego. He didn't know what to say. He'd gotten his hopes up again, but Red was looking like more of a dead end than Jason Bower.
The old hermit leaned forward when no one spoke. "What
did
happen to you, child?"
Annabelle's light blue eyes fluttered under his gaze.
"Nothing."
"Now, child," admonished Red with a smile. "Lying is a game for adults. Look at these men. They're much better at it than you."
"It's not like that," insisted Olivia. "We just want answers. We don't mean you any harm."
"See what I mean?" said Red, still focused on the girl. "They can't help themselves."
Annabelle pouted but stepped closer. Maxim's instinct was to put a stop to their bantering—but he was curious about it. Red was tight-lipped but enjoyed an audience. If it took a twelve-year-old to get him talking, so be it.
Maxim's phone buzzed in his pocket but he ignored it.
"You're too young and innocent to be going that way anyway," said Red. "Your mother may be misguided but she's concerned for you."
Olivia stepped forward but Maxim grabbed her arm and gently pulled her back. He gave her a knowing glance and she understood.
Red continued. "Why won't you tell her what happened?"
Annabelle's gaze fell to her feet. For the first time, Maxim noticed she wasn't wearing shoes or socks. He scanned the clearing and didn't see them. The girl must have taken them off in the car.
"No one cares," answered Annabelle.
"Child!" Red pressed against his chair and pushed himself to his feet. Maxim took a step closer but let the conversation play out. "That's not true. Your mommy and daddy are out here right now, aren't they?"
Maxim and Olivia traded an embarrassed glance.
"He's not my dad."
Red shuffled past the girl. "Oh. Well, sometimes adults need some company."
Olivia glanced at Maxim, but his face flushed and he couldn't look back. "It's not like that," he told Red.
The old man nodded and leaned his hunched form against the black pole. It appeared that Red used it for support. The hermit let out a long sigh as if the short distance had worn him out.
"All I mean, child, is that nobody would be here if they didn't care."
"There's another girl missing," said Annabelle. "That's who they care about. That's who they're looking for. Nobody cares about what I want."
Red shook his head sadly. It was a pitiful thing to see such a decrepit man saddened by a kid. Maxim couldn't get a read on him. Everything he did surprised the detective, but he wasn't sure any of it was genuine.
"So tell us," said Red. "What do you want?"
Annabelle shrugged. "To live outside. Like you."
"Annabelle Hayes," intoned her mother. "I've warned you about speaking like that."
"It's what I want!" the girl cried. She wasn't a teenager yet but already had the knack for making every conversation dramatic. As easily as she turned it on, it went away, and she again faced the old man.
"What about this?" he asked, pulling the black pole from the ground. "Do you want to hold this?"
Maxim took another step closer. The pole wasn't sharp, but it was large and heavy. It was unwieldy but it could still be used as a weapon in the right hands. But Red only stood still, presenting it in front of her.
"Go ahead," he said. "Try it."
The little girl stared at it, unsure what to do. Red put his weight on the staff and the flat bottom pushed into the dirt. He crouched before her.
"Grab onto it."
Annabelle shook her head. It was a hesitant gesture at first, but her eyes grew wild and she almost collapsed backward.
Olivia ran up to grab her daughter. "Leave her alone!" She tried to hug her but Annabelle pushed away. Maxim forgot about them and kept watching the old man. Red's eager eyes bored into the girl.
The old man struggled to rise and held onto the pole for dear life. His head rose to Maxim's height, then towered above as he stood straighter.
"Poor girl," said Red casually. Maxim nodded and watched the mother and daughter argue. The detective didn't have kids but knew Annabelle was troubled. It wasn't just an identity issue, or a space issue. Her problems were deeply rooted. "She's not the first, and she won't be the last."
"What did you say?" demanded Diego from the outskirts, suddenly in the old man's face. Red's expression took on an amused ire.
"You know," he said, studying the biker, "I thought it was the kids who were messing around on my property. Now I know better."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Red stepped away from his crutch and postured in front of the biker. "You know what you did."
Diego welcomed the challenge. He shoved the old man with both hands. Somehow, the feeble man held strong. "What did you mean about her not being the last?"
Red coughed up another loogie and spit it at Diego. The biker barely got out of the way. Without thinking, he socked Red with a roundhouse that splayed the old man to the floor.
"Diego!" Maxim moved between them and shoved the biker away. Red was an elderly man. No matter how strong he was, assaulting him was a bad idea. "I want you two to stop this," he commanded, his voice leaving no margin for protest.
Diego exhaled heavily but stood his ground. Red didn't accept Maxim's offer for help and stayed on the ground, muttering to himself. Maxim's phone buzzed again and he used the downtime to pull it from his jacket. Gutierrez had texted him twice. The first message indicated that Lachlan Munro had no outstanding warrants. The second told him that a full background check came up clean.
At least on paper, Red was not a criminal.
Maxim slipped his phone back into his jacket as Red regained his feet. "Number one, we're going to keep this civil. The next person that throws a punch is spending the night in jail. That's a promise. Number two, I don't know who messed with your property, but I don't want anyone accusing anyone else of anything unless they have proof and want to file a police report. That means I'd need to get a Coconino deputy out here. I'd rather not go through all that. It's easier to keep this a simple conversation. We clear on that?"
Red nodded. The detective faced the biker, who just shrugged. "Are we clear, Diego?"
The man grimaced and zipped up his riding jacket. "Yeah."
"Good."
"I want everyone off my property," said Red.
"Kaibab National Forest is public land."
"I have a right to be left alone."
Maxim scoffed. "Let me tell you how this works, Mr. Munro. When the police conduct investigations, civilians have the duty to cooperate. I don't give a shit what you think of the government—you're gonna tell me what you know."
Red huffed indignantly. "Fine. Anything to get you crazies off my property. But I already told you, I've never seen that girl or the one in the photograph in my life. I don't know why you don't believe me."
Diego almost said something but Maxim's stare silenced him. "I do believe you," said the detective.
"Okay then," said Red, somewhat vindicated. "Then I don't know how I can help you."
Maxim paused a moment. "You said you thought kids were messing around with your stuff. What kids?"
Red sighed and shook his head.
"Do you know their names?" asked Maxim.
"They don't have names," he said. "Or maybe they do. How should I know?"
Maxim produced his phone again and scrolled to the pictures of Annabelle's friends—Bryan, Grady, Allison, and BT. "What about these children? Have any of these messed with your property?"
Red chuckled. "You don't get it, Detective. You don't have photographs of the wee ones. They don't have fancy clothes and rich parents. They're removed from society, like me."
Diego tensed, but Maxim didn't want to interrupt his flow with Red. "Who are they? Runaways?"
Red's eyes flashed for a moment, but Maxim couldn't tell if it was anger or amusement. "Some, I suppose," he finally answered. "They're all lost. That's for sure."
"And they steal from you?"
"They bother me. They steal things. Or move things. Or break things."
"Why haven't you come to the police?"
Red laughed.
Maxim tried another question. "Why don't you park somewhere else?"
"I do," insisted Red. "I move around all the time. They always follow me and cause all sorts of trouble. Wandering, dancing, singing in the middle of the night. A man can't get a moment's rest."
Finally Maxim met Diego's eyes and understood what the biker was excited about. Jason Bower had said the same thing. He'd been at the campsite the same night Red passed through, and he was unnerved by a child crying in the woods. Were these reports related?
Red leaned onto his crutch, gripping the top crossbar tightly. "Best to live close to the tracks. The tracks are safe. They're old metal. A pipeline to the industrialized world."
A crack formed in Diego's serious expression. "What are you going on about, old man?"
Maxim narrowed his eyes. "Safe from who?"
The hermit shrugged. "Whoever you're looking for. They don't like iron." Red tapped the black pole as he said that.
Maxim laughed and shook his head, realizing how crazy this was beginning to sound. "Yeah, well, what about lead?" The detective pulled back his jacket and patted the butt of his Glock.
Red glanced at the firearm but didn't answer.
The biker took this more seriously. He scratched his wild hair. "What do the kids have to do with all this?"
"Everything," said Red. "The wee ones grab the children. Scurry off with them."
"What?"
"These woods aren't safe. Especially for little ones."
Diego's face burned. "You son of a—"
"Keep it civil!" barked Maxim. He stepped forward and Diego threw his hands up in surrender. They were finally getting somewhere, even if the ramblings were as crazy as Jason Bower's. Maxim paced around the two.