(1995) The Oath (8 page)

“So you haven’t settled on
318
as the culprit?”

Steve only spread his hands. “He really is the only viable candidate, and I’m willing to accept that. I’m just saying that the autopsy couldn’t establish anything one way or the other.”

“Have you seen the autopsy report on your brother?”

“Marcus talked to the coroner last night, but I haven’t seen the report yet. Have you?”

She nodded grimly. “Got a copy this morning.” She hesitated before saying, “The bottom line is, the pathologist thinks it was a bear.”

“Yeah, that’s what the coroner told Marcus, and I guess I can’t argue with that.” Steve looked down momentarily. “Marcus and I have talked about—actually viewing the remains.” He was quick to add, “But I think I’d rather have Marcus do it. I trust his judgment, his powers of observation.”

Tracy thought about it, then nodded. “Have Marcus do it.”

“Come on, let’s see what Evie remembers.”

WHEN THEY
entered the room, Evelyn was sitting upright, the mattress raised and several pillows placed behind her back.

“Well,” said Steve, smiling, “you’re looking better.”

“Half vertical, anyway,” Evelyn answered with a slight smile.

“You’ve met Deputy Ellis?”

“I think I met her two days ago.”

Tracy smiled. “You did.”

“Well—hi again.”

“Hi.”

There were two chairs in the room, and Steve and Tracy pulled them close to the bed, then sat down. At first they talked in generalities: about Evelyn’s health, her two boys, Samuel and Travis, her mother, Audrey, the care she’d received, and anything else that came to mind that would not be difficult. Steve was encouraged. Evelyn was making perfect sense, speaking coherently. She was on her way back.

“So,” said Tracy, her tone and pacing signaling the approach of a tough subject, “Mrs. Benson, how comfortable would you be, talking about what happened on Wells Peak? We still have to finish our investigation. You do understand, don’t you?”

“Sure.”

Tracy looked toward Steve. “I’m glad Steve can be here. He’s been working at his end, and the sheriff’s department has been doing what it can, but without a witness, it’s been tough.”

Evelyn was apologetic. “Officer—uh—”

“Just call me Tracy.”

“Okay. Tracy. I have to tell you, I don’t remember very much.”

“Well,” Tracy said, trying not to be pushy, “just start at the beginning and see how you do.”

Evelyn’s face was troubled. She was struggling to remember but also feeling pain at every recollection. “I remember Cliff went down to put away our leftovers. We’d cooked up a meal for the evening, and—um”

“What did you have?” Steve asked, hoping to jog her memory.

“Let’s see.” Evelyn thought for a moment, then said, “Vegetable soup and some crackers.”

“Nothing meaty? Spicy? You know, something that would give off a strong smell?”

She shook her head. “No, we try not to eat that kind of stuff if there might be bears around. Besides, if I eat rich food after hiking I want to throw up.”

Steve nodded, pleased and amused. “So, okay, then what?”

“He went down the hill to where he had the food stored, and it was dark by then, so I couldn’t see him very well.”

By now Tracy was discreetly scribbling notes. “About what time was that?”

“I guess between nine and ten.”

“Do you always eat that late at night?”

Evelyn answered, “No. We’d been doing a lot of hiking and took a long time to pick out a campsite. Then we figured we’d better get the tent up first, and by that time the sun was going down. Then Cliff wanted to rig up the food cache down in the trees while we still had some light. It all took time.”

“So anyway,” said Steve, “you ended up eating late.”

Evelyn nodded. “And cleaning up late.”

“So then Cliff went down to stow the leftovers,” Tracy prompted.

“And . . .” Evelyn fumbled. “I—I just remember him going down the hill in the dark, and I couldn’t see him, just his flashlight sometimes . . .” She stopped. She looked at them, and they looked back at her. Silence.

Tracy prompted, “He’d gone down the hill with his flashlight.”

Evelyn just shook her head. “And then I woke up in the hospital.”

Steve was disappointed—downright frustrated, actually—but tried not to show it. He looked as casually as he could at Tracy. She seemed strangely detached as she studied her notes.

Her next question had a lighter tone. “So . . . Cliff was a photographer!”

“Uh-huh. Mainly he did wildlife photography.”

Tracy looked at Steve. “So this outdoors stuff must run in the family.”

Steve smiled. He welcomed the lighter topic. “Pretty much.”

Tracy turned back to Evelyn. “So, was that why you were up there on Wells Peak? Was he taking pictures up there?”

“No. We just wanted to get away together.”

“Mmm. Just get some time away, huh?”

“Yes. He’d been working a lot of hours, and we needed some time alone. We’ve been out hunting in Hyde Valley before. We really like the Wells Peak area, so that’s where we went this time.”

“I understand your husband had been working in Hyde Valley for a few months; is that right?”

“That’s right.”

Hmm, Steve thought, impressed. Tracy has been doing her homework.

“Doing a photo shoot up and down the valley,” Tracy continued.

Evelyn nodded. “He was doing local sportsman stuff. You know, hunting, fishing, that kind of thing. But he shot a lot of pictures in the old mining towns. He’s always liked getting into the history and the people.”

“So, he was away from home a lot?”

Evelyn hesitated just slightly before answering. “Sure. He had to go where the pictures were.”

“That must have been tough.”

Evelyn shrugged a little and sighed. “I took it in stride.”

“But that’s why you wanted to get away together? Just to spend time together for a change?”

Evelyn sounded just a little perturbed. “I believe I just said that.”

“So, how would you say your marriage was going? Were you doing okay?”

Steve didn’t say anything, but that question seemed a little odd. Maybe Tracy was just making bedside conversation.

“It wasn’t a fiery romance; it wasn’t a soap opera,” Evelyn answered. “It was just kind of in between.”

Tracy smiled. “In between.”

“We got along when we were together. When we weren’t together it was kind of hard to tell.”

Evelyn’s tone was composed, but Steve had seen that look on Evelyn’s face before. Tracy had better be careful.

“So things were going okay, but not . . .” Tracy prodded.

“Not real okay.” Evelyn went no further.

Tracy scribbled some notes then asked, “Evelyn, do you own a hunting knife?”

“Yes. Both of us did.”

Steve interjected, “She and Cliff used to go hunting a lot.”

“Okay,” Tracy replied, jotting it down. “Evelyn, when you were found Saturday night, you still had your knife in your hand, and the blade was broken. Do you remember that at all?”

Evelyn took a moment to search her memory. “Maybe. Kind of like a dream . . . I’m not sure.”

“Do you have any recollection of attacking anything, having any kind of struggle and using your knife?”

Evelyn was becoming visibly upset. “I don’t know! There’s just this—this—it’s like a dream in my head, and I can’t remember it.”

Steve spoke softly, afraid he might press too far. “Evie, we’re looking for a bear, okay? We figure it was a grizzly that got Cliff. Do you remember anything like that?” He was obviously leading the witness, but he didn’t care.

Evelyn closed her eyes. “Steve, I can close my eyes, and all I see is a big shadow.”

“Did you attack it?” Tracy asked.

“Well, I guess I did.” Now Evelyn’s voice had an edge to it. “Wouldn’t you?”

“There was blood on your clothing and on the knife. Do you recall that at all?”

Evelyn stiffened with the memory. “I remember some blood.”

“Do you remember where it came from?”

Evelyn looked straight at Tracy Ellis, tears filling her eyes. “I understand it came from my husband.”

Steve could read Evelyn’s face clearly: A line had been crossed, a limit exceeded. He cut in. “Evie, that’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

Tracy looked his way. She obviously didn’t appreciate his intruding on her investigation.

And Steve didn’t appreciate her questions. He addressed Evelyn, the one whose feelings he cared about. “This whole thing’s been real tough, I know. Let’s let it go for now, and you just rest up.”

Tracy, to her credit, picked up Steve’s cue, and relaxed. “Yeah, just rest up. I’m very sorry to have to ask you such tough questions.”

Evelyn’s gaze told Tracy she was not forgiven. “Just doing your job, I guess.”

Steve rose to his feet. “I’ve got some other things I want to look into. You just get better.” He bent down and kissed Evelyn on the forehead.

“Thanks for your time,” said Tracy.

Evelyn turned her back to the deputy sheriff.

STEVE AND TRACY
made their way to the waiting area near the nurses’ station. Each had an agenda for a serious talk and couldn’t wait to get started.

“I’d like to know what that was all about,” Steve demanded, trying to keep his voice low.

Tracy tried the person-in-charge approach. “I knew this would be a problem, someone so emotionally involved—”

“That will be enough!” A couple who was sitting nearby looked their way. “I’ll be responsible for my emotions, Deputy,” Steve growled. “You’d better concern yourself with how Evie must be feeling right now and how you treated her! Couldn’t you see how frail she is? How could you go in there asking questions about knives and blood and how well their marriage was doing? She just lost her husband, remember?”

Tracy purposely paused a moment to calm the situation down. Then she tried to present a rational, professional position. “I had to ask particular questions as a matter of routine. We have to cover all contingencies.”

“Like how her marriage was doing? Do you think for one moment—”

“What I think is immaterial. I have a job to do.” Her tone was formal as she said, “You’re a professional. You know how important objectivity is in a situation like this, am I right?”

Steve wanted to lash back, but yanked his own leash and held it. She was right. He was offended and defensive for Evelyn’s sake, and he was letting his feelings rule the moment. Tracy was in control; he wasn’t. He took a breath and forced himself back into his professional role. It was like putting on a pair of tight shoes. “Yes. You’re right. You’re right, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Personal feelings aside, the idea of complicity on Evie’s part is . . . well, it’s untenable, unthinkable.”

“And it seems you’re having trouble blaming a bear, too.”

“I’m—” He wanted to deny it, but couldn’t. “I’m willing to accept any hard evidence.” Then he narrowed his gaze. “Which raises the question of the autopsy report . . .”

He noticed her cringe slightly. “Steve . . .”

“Is there additional evidence I still don’t know about?”

She took time to formulate an answer. “Maybe you do need to read that report for yourself.”

“Maybe I need to view the remains for myself.”

She emphasized, “Maybe you need to read the report and evaluate it first.”

He accepted that. “Do you have it with you?”

She took the report from her folder. It was a document about thirty pages thick, held together with a large clip.

He took it but didn’t look at it. “I’ll read it before I confer with Marcus.”

“Just keep in mind your relationship to the victim.”

“I’m aware of my relationship to the victim.” Who do you think you are, my baby-sitter?

“All right.”

“All I want is the answer to our questions—before you get any wrong ideas.”

She was clearly offended. “Steve, I am not jumping to any conclusions. I do have questions, though!”

“So I observed!”

She drew a breath, held it, then gave a long sigh. “Okay, Steve, you’re the expert. Tell me what happened.”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“How is it that only Cliff was killed, and only his blood was on Evelyn’s clothes, and Evelyn wasn’t injured at all? If Evelyn came so close to the attack that she got Cliff’s blood all over her, why wasn’t she attacked as well? How did her hunting knife get broken, and how is it that she remembers everything else in such detail, even what they had for dinner, and what time they ate, and the order of events up to the crucial time in question, and then . . . ding, she’s in dreamland?”

Steve had thought about that, too. “The attack was over by the time she got there. Upon finding what was left of Cliff, she went hysterical—we have the truck driver’s testimony as to her disturbed mental state—and having gone hysterical, she . . . well, who knows what she may have done? Maybe she was embracing what was left or trying to put him back together; I don’t know. But the hysteria is well established, I think, and explanation enough for her memory lapse. As for the knife, how do we know she didn’t break the blade when she attacked the truck?”

“The driver said the blade was already broken.”

“So figure she went around stabbing trees or something. She was out of her mind.”

“But even your scenario puts her and her husband together at the time of death, and you’ll have to admit an attacking bear isn’t necessary to produce the blood on her clothes.”

“Except that I don’t like your line of thinking, Deputy. I can’t even entertain such a possibility.”

“You don’t have to, Steve. You’re not a cop.”

“Granted.” Silence. “So what’s your next step?”

“I’m going to take a drive out to Hyde River and talk to some friends.”

“The same friends who told you Cliff had been in the area?”

“The same. It’s a small community, and word gets around.”

“Well, I just might drive out there myself.”

She raised her hand. “Whoa, hold on there.”

“What?”

“I know Hyde River. Do we agree on that?”

“I guess so.”

“So take this as wise advice from someone who knows: Don’t go up there asking questions by yourself. You could get more trouble than you ever wanted.”