Among the Missing (10 page)

As they crossed the picnic grounds, Pac looked up at Indian Point. "Scary," she said.

Rusty saw it through a break in the trees. The bleak, stone face of the cliff loomed over the lake, probably a hundred feet high.

"No wonder the Washoes held it sacred," Pac said.

"You know that story?"

"Sure. They used to toss their dead chiefs off the top."

"A fellow was just telling me about it."

"You'd heard about it before, hadn't you?"

"If I did, I forgot."

"Did you ever take the Cruise Queen tour?"

"That's for tourists."

"Snob."

He shook his head, still staring up at the cliff. "When we were kids," he said, "we called it Loser's Leap. A fellow named Earth lost his shirt over in Reno. Next day, they found his car parked up there. His wallet and all his clothes were in a neat pile right at the edge of the cliff."

"You said he lost his shirt," Pac reminded him.

"Give a guy a break, huh?"

"Okay, okay. Sorry."

"Anyway, Earth was never seen again. Most people figured he committed suicide by leaping into the lake, but I always had my doubts. Maybe he only wanted it to look that way so he could pull a disappearing act."

"What gave you that idea?" Pac asked.

"I'm just naturally suspicious, I guess."

"I guess we all know that."

He laughed softly. "But you know, taking a leap off that damn cliff never seemed to me like a hot way to commit suicide. It's high, but it's not that high. You might live through it. And if you did survive, you'd be within about a half a minute's swimming distance from shore." He pointed across the picnic area. "You could wade out right over there. Maybe that's what Earth did. And maybe he had a boat waiting for him down here. Or he could've hiked back up to the parking lot and met someone. . . . A lot of possibilities."

"Maybe he didn't take the leap, at all."

"That's also possible. Nobody saw him do it."

"Obviously, the body never turned up."

"Nope. If he took the leap . . . if it killed him, I guess he's still down there."

"Fresh as a daisy," Pac said.

"Gives me the creeps. It always gave me the creeps, thinking about him down there. I didn't need any stories about Indian chiefs to give me nightmares, I had Earth. But I'd be the one falling off the edge, you know, and . . ." He shook his head again. "It'd feel like I was falling forever, and I knew Barth was waiting for me. I might survive the fall, but he'd come swimming up from way down deep and grab me by the ankles. . . . God! I used to hate those dreams."

"I bet you always woke up before you hit the water."

"Damn straight I did. How can you sleep through a thing like that?"

"You can't," Pac said. "They say if you hit, you die."

"Wonderful."

"But I've heard that's an old wives' tale."

"Glad to hear it."

They walked in silence for a while. Then Pac said, "My nightmares started when I got into competition. In those, I'd lose my grip on the uneven parallels and take a header for the mat. I actually saw that happen to a girl during my senior year in high school. It was like watching my nightmare happen in real life. She broke her neck and went into convulsions."

"Die?"

"Almost. The coach gave her CPR until the ambulance arrived. She saved Julie's life. Then Julie's parents sued the school and the coach for negligence."

"Grateful sons of bitches."

"Everybody sues everybody."

"Wonderful world."

Coming to the signposts, they took the trail toward the cove.

"How was it when you fell?" Rusty asked.

"Not nearly as bad as my nightmares, that's for sure. All I thought about was trying to land right. The fear wasn't the same. I think maybe dreams are always worse than the real thing."

"Or better."

"I knew you'd have to drag sex into this."

"According to Millie, it's at the root of all things great and small."

"I wouldn't go --"

"PRICK!" Trink's voice shrieked in rage.

"For cry-sake . . . !" Bill's.

"Asshole! Goddamn two-timing fucking asshole!"

Rusty and Pac, standing side by side at a bend in the trail, braced themselves as the rushing footfalls thudded closer. From the sound of things, the two witnesses were chasing each other up the trail.

"I'm sorry, Trink!"

"Sorry my ass!"

Trink's head turned as she raced around the bend. Rusty and Pac leaped apart to make a gap for her.

Pac trailed a leg to trip her.

Rusty grabbed Trink's shoulder and shoved it forward to help her along.

She flopped, striking the ground hard and grunting as it knocked out her wind.

"Cuff her," Rusty said.

Bill had time to slow down before rounding the bend. He staggered to a halt in front of Rusty. His eyes looked frightened. He panted for air.

"Just relax," Rusty told him.

"Hey, man . . . I didn't . . . do nothing."

"Put your hands on top of your head." He reached to the back of his belt for his cuffs.

"Hey, we can . . . work something out? Right? I can . . . put you onto something."

"Like what?"

"Wanta bust a dealer?"

"Right now, I'm more interested in busting a murderer."

"Hey, man, I can put you onto him. I promise. Don't bust me and I'll put you onto him."

Stepping behind the boy, Rusty reached up with the cuffs. He flicked one open and hit its hinge against Bill's right wristbone. The curve of steel whipped around, clamping Bill's wrist and latching.

"What did you see last night?" Rusty asked.

"When?"

Rusty pulled Bill's cuffed arm down, then the other. "Last night when you were parked at the Sweet Meadow roadhead." He clamped the other cuff around Bill's left wrist.

"I don't know, man. If you're gonna bust me . . ."

"Tell me what you saw, then we'll decide."

As he frisked Bill, he watched Pac help Trink to her feet. The girl's hands were safely cuffed behind her. "Take Trink up the trail a bit while I have a talk with Bill. And arrest her for battery on a law enforcement officer."

"You bet," Pac said. She led Trink up the trail, and they disappeared around a bend.

"Okay," Rusty said. "Let's hear it."

"Okay. Yeah, sure. Last night, right?"

"And this morning."

"And you won't bust me?"

"We'll see."

"Okay. Sure. Okay. We drove in like at midnight? Or maybe later, I don't know. Maybe it was one or two, something like that."

"When exactly?"

"Hey, who knows?"

"Where were you before you came to the road-head?"

"The drive-in."

"You came directly from the drive-in?"

"Yeah."

"Did you stay till the end of the movie?"

"Sure. You think we'd leave in the middle? That's crazy."

"What movie was it?"

"At the drive-in. Like I said."

There was only one drive-in theater left in the region. "It's playing a triple feature," Rusty said. "Which show did you leave after?"

"Christ, who knows? I think we left after the one about the prison. Yeah, a woman's prison where the guards were all a bunch of rednecks and sadists."

"All right." Rusty made a note to check with the theater and get a fix on the time the prison movie let out. "Now, tell me what you saw when you got to Sweet Meadow."

"A van. A VW van."

"Color?"

"Blue, I guess."

"What year?"

"Who knows? I don't know. They all look alike. But it wasn't real old. I mean, it looked like it was in pretty good shape."

"Was it occupied?"

Bill shook his head.

"How do you know?"

"We had a look. Christ, you know, you can't be too careful."

"Did you look in the windows?"

"They had curtains. Couldn't see inside. But we knocked on the doors. Nobody home."

"Maybe someone was inside and just didn't answer you."

"No way. We looked, man."

"You said there were curtains."

"We went inside. One of the doors wasn't locked, so we just climbed in."

Rusty tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. "What did you find inside?"

"Nobody."

"Was it furnished?"

"Had a bed, table, sink. You know. The usual stuff."

"Anything unusual about it?"

"Sure. You want to take these cuffs off me?"

"No."

"They hurt, man. You ever been cuffed?"

"I'll loosen them a bit." Using his key, he opened each cuff a single notch. "How's that?"

"Better."

"What did you see?"

"He had this mirror on the ceiling. This big mirror. Over his water bed."

"A water bed?"

"Yeah. Cool, huh?" Bill smiled, shaking his head. "Plus, he had red lights. Man, what a turn-on."

"Did you use the bed?"

"That illegal?"

"I'm not looking to bust you on this stuff, Bill. I just want the truth."

"So what do you want to know?"

"Right now, tell me more about the van. Did you use it?"

"Sure, man. Wouldn't you? I mean, a water bed with a fucking mirror up there so you can watch the action? Plus, you never know if maybe the guy's gonna come back and catch you at it? I mean, what a rush!"

"How long were you there?"

"Who knows? An hour, maybe more."

"You had intercourse on the bed?"

"Man, did we ever!"

"Do you know your blood type?"

"My what?"

"Blood type."

"You mean like my DNA? Like with O. J. and all that shit?"

"It's like A, B, O . . ."

"Huh? No. I don't know."

"Let's find out." Rusty removed the cuffs. "I'm not inclined to arrest you, but I want you to come with us so we can get a blood sample and take your fingerprints."

"What if I don't?"

"I'll bust you right now and drag you in."

"Oh, okay. Hey, I'll come along."

"Walk ahead of me." Rusty followed him up the trail to where Pac was waiting with Trink. The girl was cuffed. Her eyes were red and she was gasping for air.

"You hurt me, you prick!" she yelled at Rusty.

"You shouldn't have been running," he told her. To Pac, he said, "Did she give you much trouble?"

"Not a bit."

"All right, let's get up to the parking lot. You take the lead, Pac. Bill, you go next. Then Trink. I'll take up the rear."

"Behind me?" Trink asked, scowling at him.

"Yep."

"Well, don't try no funny stuff."

"With you? Now why would I want to do that?"

"Fuck you."

"Let's go."

"You couldn't get it up if you wanted to, you old fart."

"You'll never know. Now, get moving."

"You better not touch me."

"I wouldn't dare. Might get pricked."

"You are a prick."

"Move."

The four of them started up the trail. They continued steadily, without trouble, almost to the top of the slope. Then Trink dropped to her knees and fell forward, hitting the trail shoulder-first.

Rusty knelt beside her. "What's the matter?"

"These handcuffs."

"What about them?"

"They hurt."

"They're supposed to."

"Take them off."

"Not a chance."

"That ain't fair! You don't got Bill cuffed!"

"Bill's not under arrest, you are. Now let's get up."

"Not till you take off the cuffs."

"I'll take one off. How's that?"

She didn't answer.

Rusty unlocked the bracelet on her left hand. He loosened the other one enough to reverse the direction of its chain, then clamped it tight again. "Let's go."

As he helped Trink to her knees, she swung her left fist toward his groin. He turned away, catching the blow on his thigh. She cocked back her arm for another punch. Before she could deliver it, Rusty drove his fist into her stomach. Her breath burst out. She sagged, gasping.

"Sorry, Trink."

She kept on gasping.

More than a minute passed before her breathing calmed. Then she stood up, holding herself below the ribs. She couldn't stand up straight. "Motherfucking prick bastard," she said.

"Let's go."

"I'll get you."

"You already did."

Chapter Fifteen

A Shopping Trip

"Oh, I just bet he was a devil," Walter said, leaning close to Merton and pointing at the photo of a twelfth grader with messy blond hair, an impish grin and a wide gap between his two front teeth.

"Doesn't look familiar," Merton said.

"Oh, look at this one."

Merton didn't bother to look. "I need a few things from the store," he said.

"I could have told you that. Oh, I just bet this one broke a lot of hearts."

Merton glanced at the photo. "Turner? He didn't break hearts, he broke maidenheads. He used to brag that he'd balled every gal on the cheerleading squad. I think Sav-on will be okay."

"You should've picked up your toothbrush when you stopped by your house. I was intending to mention it at the time, but it slipped my mind."

"I'm not going for a toothbrush."

"Well, you should pick one up nonetheless."

"Want to come along? You can choose the color."

"I think blue. A translucent aqua, don't you think?"

"Sure. Ready to go?"

"In a jiff. Let me piddle first."

As Walter headed for the toilet, Merton stepped into the kitchen. Draped over the faucet spout was a pair of rubber dishwashing gloves. He tried one on. The fit was too loose. The orange fingertips, protruding beyond his own, collapsed when he pressed them against the counter. These wouldn't do.

He pulled off the glove. His hand felt powdery and smelled of orange blossoms. He washed with soap, then met Walter in the living room.

"I'm having second thoughts," Walter said.

"About what?"

"About you. All this. Has it occurred to you that you might be caught?"

"Let it drop."

"You're taking awful chances. It frightens me. I don't want to lose . . ."

"If Paxton or his girl get on the witness stand, it's all over. They've gotta go. No away around it. It's either them or me."

"But killing them is so drastic."