A Shadow Fell (22 page)

             
             
             
             
             
             
             
5
3

             
Callie took the news of the discovery of her father’s mutilated remains with little emotion beyond relief. “Good riddance to the bastard,” she muttered when Kilborn relayed the information.

             
“There’s more, Callie,” Kilborn said.

             
“Tell me,” she said, sensing his reluctance to say
any
thing
further
.

             
“
There is evidence
now that Jack didn’t die as we first believed. The ashes found in the grave with Edgerton are thought at this time to belong to someone else.”

             
Callie took a sharp intake of breath. “Jack’s alive? But where is he?”

             
“
We think he is, yes. It’s… very possible, Callie, that he is responsible for the killing of your… of Henderson.”

             
The sudden reality of what this meant hit her
with the force of
a sandbag.
“No… ” she wailed. “Jack wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t. You
’re
wrong, Tom, I know you are.”

             
“Maybe, Callie… but I don’t think so. We’
re using
tracking dogs
to follow a trail we believe is Jack’s. We should know for sure before long.”

             
After the call ended Callie turned to Miles and Betty. “They say Jack is alive and that he killed Reuben and… they say he did horrible things.”

             
Both Miles and Betty were at once thrilled and devastated. “What do you mean, Callie?” Miles said. “What did Jack do?”

             
“He… he
cut Reuben up with an axe.”

             
Betty immediately went into a state of emphatic denial. But Miles wasn’t nearly so sure that such a thing was impossible. He could more easily imagine himself in a similar situation and how he might react
after finding the fiend
responsible for the brutal murder of
his daughter
.

             
“What is Jack saying?” Miles asked.

             
“They haven’t found him yet
,” she answered tearfully
.
“
They’re chasing him with dogs.”

             
Miles went to Callie and held her in a firm embrace. She sobbed into his sh
oulder
, saying over and over that she didn’t care what he had done. That she just wanted him to come home to her. That she loved him and needed him.

             
             
             
             
             
             
*
             
*
             
*

             
In the Virginia mountains the relentless search for a murderer, believed to be Jack Parmenter, continued. The pursuers
, forced to proceed on foot because of the dogs,
were at a distinct disadvantage. While the killer made great progress by virtue of his motorized transport, the trackers
were losing ground fast.

             
By the time the
four man
tracking team, now led by
a
Corporal with the West Virginia State Police,
came upon a couple of hikers, the focus of their search was three days ahead of them.

             
Corporal Kenny Severin stood six feet five inches even without the boots he wore that added another inch and a half to his intimidating stature. When he and his three troopers spotted the young couple, loaded with camping
gear
coming
up a trail
toward them they reigned in the dogs.

             
Severin tipped his hat politely. “Howdy, folks. How are you doing?”

             
The couple were in their early twenties and very fit. “H
i,
” they echoed.

             
“My name’s Corporal Severin, West Virginia State Police. We’re looking for a fugitive. I wonder if you might have come across anyone since you’ve been up here.”

             
The pair looked suddenly shocked.“We did run into
a
guy
on a dirt bike
three days ago,” the young guy said
, just after we got to the park
.
”

             
“Can you describe him?”

             
“Yeah. He was an older guy, maybe fifty or so. Uh, around six feet,  thin, with a grey beard.”

             
“How was he dressed?”

             
“Uh, jeans, a peaked cap, a plaid shirt jacket kinda thing. Dark sunglasses.
”

             
Severin took a picture from an inside pocket of his uniform jacket. “
Do you think it could have been
this man?”

             
Both the hikers studied the picture for several seconds. They both shook their heads. “I don’t think so,”
t
he guy said.

             
“Are you sure?” Severin asked. “It could be his appearance has changed a little since this was taken.”

             
The girl shrugged. “It’s possible I guess.”

             
“Maybe,” the guy added.

             
“Did you speak with him?”

             
“Yeah,” the guy said. “We asked him if he was the owner of the white Chevy pickup down in the parking area because we had noticed it had a flat when we parked. It was kinda weird because he said yeah it was his. But then he said he had gotten a little turned around and wasn’t sure where the parking area was. It seemed really funny because we were only about three hundred yards away from it
at the time
. We
figured the guy must have been a little whacked, you know.”

             
“You say the pickup was a white Chevy?”

             
“Yeah.”

             
“Do you have any idea of the year?”

             
“Yeah, I think it was an eighty-five. My cousin had one that looked almost identical.”

             
“Anything unusual about it? Any damage
or markings
?”

             
“Not that
I
noticed.”
             
“What about plates? Did you
happen to
notice them?”

             
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did.
They were N
ebraska
plates
. I remember thinking that the owner was a long way from home.”

             
“Okay, folks,” Severin said. “You’ve been a big help
.” He handed them a card. “If you think of anything else that might help us please call this number.”

             
When Severin and his
team
arrived at the parking area there was no sign of a white Chevy pickup.

             
The trail had come to an end.

             
             
             
             
             
             
             
54

             
Ass
ociate
Director Philip
Cassidy
called Tom Kilborn
from Washington, D.C.
four days later. “I want to see you in my office
on
Wednesday
morning at nine. Bring Agents Blackmore and Colletti with you.
”

             
“Yes, sir,” Kilborn replied. 

             
Kilborn relayed the information to his two agents.

             
“Are we in the shit?” Blackmore asked.

             
“We’re always in the shit,” Kilborn replied. “The only question is how deep.”

             
Cassidy’s secretary ushered the three agents into the man’s office, silently closing the door as she left.

             
“Sit, gentlemen,” Cassidy said, leaning forward to study the three men before him. “I’m sure you know why you’re here. So let me cut to the chase, you’ll pardon the pun. I need a concise verbal report from you – right now – as to
your justification for extending our involvement
with respect to the Henderson
case
.” He looked meaningfully from one man to the next.
“Mr. Kilborn?”

             
“Well, sir, at this moment in time we are simply not sure who we’re looking for as regards Henderson’s killer. It may very well be Jack Parmenter but, the fact is, it may not be. We’re---”

             
“
Special
Agent Blackmore,” Cassidy cut in. “What do you have to add?”

             
Blackmore cleared his throat. “It appears to us, sir, that the trail we were following, while believing it was Parmenters’, may not have been. It’s possible that the tracking dogs were simply tracking the scent of Parmenter’s clothes. We have no real reason to believe that the ashes found buried with Edgerton were not Parmenter’s.”

             
“
Special
Agent Colletti. Anything further to add?”

             
“Well, sir, I’m a little more sceptical about those ashes. It seems to me that there are several unanswered questions about the circumstances of
all three deaths that bring into question---”

             
Cassidy suddenly stood bolt upright and leaned forward with his knuckled fists planted on his desk.
“This is the way I see it, gentlemen. The focus of our investigation was to find Reuben Henderson. While we may not have been responsible for his capture and ultimate demise, we have nonetheless met with success with regard to our objective. The only thing indicating that the killer may be an ex-FBI agent
, and therefore of some ongoing interest to us,
is the fact that a team of dogs have his scent – a dubious thing at best given that it may be nothing more than a coat owned by Parmenter. Am
I
correct so far, gentlemen?”

             
A chorus of ‘yes, sirs’ ensued.

             
“Very well.  As far as I’m concerned, then,
we will consider Jack Parmenter to be deceased. The evidence indicates that Henderson killed Edgerton and Parmenter and was subsequently murdered by an unknown assailant. W
hoever
he is, he is
now the business of the West Virginia State Police. It is no longer a federal issue and, accordingly, of no further
interest to the Bureau. Any questions? No? Good.
Have a nice flight home, g
entlemen.”

             
Colletti started to say something but the threatening look
directed at him
from Kilborn stopped him in his tracks.

             
The three agents were on a plane back to Tampa thirty minutes later.

             
Late that afternoon
Kilborn made another call to Callie.
Given the firm directive from Cassidy he had no alternative but to, once again, proffer the official decision that Jack was, after all, dead.

             
             
             
             
             
             
Part Eight

             
             
             
             
             
             
Atonement