Deadfall (10 page)

They weren't completely without evidence. They had that partial boot print and a couple of usable latents, along with one odd circumstance that appeared to link the convict to someone in the Portland area: Norton had been slaughtering wildlife. The blood and hides bore that out, along with carcasses buried in shallow graves around the property. He'd probably been poaching, but why? Why would a guy running from the law hunt down and slaughter more meat than he could use for himself?

9

T
HANKSGIVING AND CHRISTMAS came and went in a blur. The holidays, along with New Year's, had gone uncelebrated in the Gayneses' home, largely because they had nothing to celebrate. Brad was still missing.

Vicki peered out the kitchen window of her southwest Portland home as Todd eased out of the driveway, heading for work on the chilly winter morning. One of the area's infamous ice storms had blanketed the city with a shiny crust of beautiful, shimmering, treacherous ice. Todd was running late, as it had taken twenty minutes to defrost his older BMW. Vicki begged him to take the SUV with its four-wheel drive, but he'd declined, reminding her that she had errands and he wanted her to have the safer vehicle.

Vicki and Todd had lived in their modest home on the west side near Portland State University for the better part of ten years. It was the perfect place, except for those rare occasions when snow or ice turned their hills into slippery slopes.

“I can stay home. Nothing's going on out there anyway.”

“Vicki, the weather is just one more excuse on top of the hundreds you've already made. You need to get out. Holing up in here isn't going to bring Brad home any sooner.”

She knew that. But since Brad had gone missing in early November, she hadn't felt like going out or doing anything. Today was no different, except that she'd promised Todd she'd at least go back to work. She'd all but abandoned her interior decorating business. Luckily, Rachael had stepped in to fill in the gaps. Maybe she should go on with her day as planned. Todd was right. Waiting around the house wasn't accomplishing anything. She needed at least to go to the fabric and craft outlet for supplies.

Still this wasn't a good day to start working—at least not outdoors. The City of Roses had been practically shut down the past two days while the winter storm passed through. And it wasn't as if she hadn't been working—she had. She'd spent endless hours trying to find her son. These past two months had produced nothing. After Brad's disappearance, the air search had ended after one day, but the ground search had gone on for the three full days. The searchers, explorer scouts, hounds, and law enforcement officers failed to come up with a single clue related to Brad's disappearance.

The search efforts had turned from search-and-rescue status to missing-person status. Family and friends had printed and handed out thousands of fliers to hikers and sightseers in the Columbia River Gorge area. The fliers, with a picture of Brad, offered a reward for any information leading to his whereabouts. With such inclement weather, they'd had to replace fliers routinely wherever they could along I-84 from Portland to the small town of Cascade Locks. Cascade Locks, about forty miles east of the metro area, was located near Bonneville Dam, the first of three dams on the massive Columbia River. Wah-kella Creek, fed by the falls, flowed into the Columbia a short distance above the dam.

Vicki dug into a cardboard box on her kitchen counter, where a dozen or so fliers remained. “Time to make new ones.” She pulled out the handful of fliers and folded the empty box, smashing it into the recycling bin in the laundry room, next to a half-dozen other empty boxes.

Hopelessness threatened to end her efforts, but she fought it off. Picking up her hot tea and the fliers, she padded to the kitchen table, where she had set up a temporary workspace to track the reports and tips related to Brad's case.

Vicki set down her tea and powered up her laptop computer. She leaned back while it booted up, sipping her tea and making her list of things to do.
Go to copy place to make more fliers. Call
Deputy Wyatt.

Find Brad.

She crossed out the note to call the deputyicki didn't want to hear his version of the story anymore, and he was getting tired of her almost daily calls.

“I'm officially listing Brad as a missing person,” he'd said just two weeks after Brad disappeared. “Unofficially, I think we're dealing with a suicide.” He hadn't changed his story.

Vicki hadn't wanted to hear that. She couldn't believe it. Brad had been raised to believe in the sanctity of life. His faith would prohibit him from killing himself. Even in Brad's darkest days, he'd call on occasion just to check in. Besides, there was no body. It wasn't unusual to lose a body on a river that strong and wide. The body could have floated downriver and gotten caught on something. She shuddered to think about that. The current was so strong and the river so vast. Vicki closed the door on those morbid thoughts. Brad was still alive. But if that was the case, where was he?

The theory that he left town and didn't want to be found was equally unlikely. Brad just wouldn't do that.

Vicki tossed the pen aside, got up, and walked down the hall into Brad's old room. She'd turned it into a sewing/guest room, but her son would always be welcome. It would always be his room. Sitting on his bed, she let her blurred gaze wander over the walls. Shelves on one side held Brad's trophies and mementos, photos of him winning race after race. Ribbons held medals of silver, bronze, and gold. She'd even hung the ribbons from his high-school sports competitions.

Rachael's medals were there too—the ones she'd won downhill skiing. She could have been an Olympian, but she chose a business degree and a husband and family over competition.

“Oh, Brad,”Vicki said aloud, “you had so much promise. What happened? What went wrong? Did we push you too hard? Why the drugs and the drinking? Why did you feel you needed friends like that—why Jessica?” She brushed the back of her hand across her eyes and went in search of some tissues.

Jessica swore she had loved Brad. But where was she now? Less than a week after Brad went missing, Jessica packed her bags and moved back to California to live with an aunt and uncle in Crescent City on the coast. In fact, Jessica did a great deal more than just pack her bags. She also helped herself to some of Brad's sweaters and his watch, guitar, and collection of CDs and DVDs.

“Why would you do that, Jessica? Didn't you think he'd be coming back?” Vicki found some tissues in the bathroom and blew her nose; then she returned to the bedroom and went on lamenting Jessica's actions.

Of course, Jessica had taken all the money Brad might have had. She claimed she hadn't, but Todd figured Brad had a couple thousand in cash at the cabin. The money was gone, and Jessica claimed to know nothing about it. It was as if Jessica
knew
Brad wasn't going to be found. Why else would she leave so soon after his disappearance and take things Brad would want when he returned? Brad hadn't made November's house payment, so Todd covered it, saying they needed to protect Brad's investment. Vicki agreed, but she felt the reason was more personal—Todd wanted Brad to have a place to live when he came home. They'd made three payments now, and the cabin still sat empty.

Vicki dragged her thoughts away from the negative turn they'd taken. Every day—several times a day—she slipped into this ruminating mode, going over and over the circumstances surrounding Brad's disappearance. And every day, she prayed that things would be resolved and Brad would come home. She wanted it to be over, wanted to get on with life. She needed closure—some kind of closure. Any kind of closure.

Vicki pushed herself from the bed. With a heavy heart and legs of lead, she headed back to the kitchen table and sat at her temporary desk.

Work. You have to work.
She picked up a white plastic binder and slipped on her reading glasses. Vicki thumbed through the pages, primarily at the bottom of the pile. She found the interview report for Jessica, written by Deputy Wyatt. The report indicated the deputy had interviewed Jessica the day following Brad's reported disappearance.

Vicki thumbed through the tattered pages of the search-and-rescue logs to get to the police reports, scanning the pages she had read a hundred times. In the report, Deputy Wyatt summarized his conversations with Jessica without going into much detail.

There were no tape recordings, not even any challenges to Jessica's unusual reaction to Brad's disappearance. Vicki wondered why a detective wasn't called in to interview Jessica or at least to go over the reports of the officers involved with the search.

In the report, the deputy had written the same basic story Jessica had told her and Todd. There were a few additional details. Jessica reported that she and Brad went to the falls that day to talk about their relationship and that Brad had been drinking heavily.

She also reported that Brad had smoked marijuana while they were talking in the parking lot. Vicki never read that part of the report without getting angry. She was so certain her son had gotten past the drinking and drug stage. Now Jessica had shifted the bulk of the blame to Brad.

Sweet, cute little Jessica apparently hadn't touched a drop. When Jessica told Brad to stop and that she'd have to drive home, he became angry. She told him basically to shape up or she was leaving.

Vicki rubbed her forehead. “What really happened out there, God? Will we ever know?”

Brad had assured them that he'd stopped smoking marijuana and had smashed a glass pipe in front of his father to confirm he was giving up the drug. Was all that for show?

What was it Brad had said?
“I'm trying to quit. I want to, but you
don't know what it's like when your friends are addicted. And all Jessica
wants to do is party.”

“You wouldn't lie to us, would you, Brad?” Vicki asked aloud. “And if you were telling the truth, then Jessica must be lying.”

Going back to Deputy Wyatt's report, she read:

Jessica reported that during this conversation in Brad's car,
she told Brad she was leaving him and was planning on
moving out to stay with friends or return to live with her
family. She said Brad had become physically abusive to her,
and although she loved him, Jessica no longer wanted to be
the object of his aggression. Brad became enraged when she
told him their relationship was over. He reportedly grabbed
her arm, and she told him to let go because he was hurting
her. The alcohol and marijuana, mixed with the subject
matter, caused Brad to grow increasingly irritable and
threatening. Jessica claimed she was able to pull herself free
from Brad's grip and get out of the passenger side door of the
car. She began walking away when Brad again grabbed
her arm. Jessica said she tried to push him away, but he was
too strong and too upset. Brad reportedly said, “If I can't
have you, then no one will.”

Vicki shook her head. How melodramatic. Brad wouldn't act like that. She'd told Deputy Wyatt what she thought of Jessica's so-called statement, but there it was, still in the report along with the strange story of an elusive truckdriver who deputies had never found.

During the altercation Jessica said a trucker got out of his
tractor-trailer rig and walked over to them, carrying a
large flashlight. Because he didn't need it for light yet, he
appeared to be carrying it as a weapon.

The truckdriver, a man in his fifties, intervened, asking
Jessica if she needed any help. Brad told the man to back off
and mind his own business, then he shoved the driver back
with clinched fists. The truckdriver's straw cowboy hat fell
to the ground as the man struggled to regain his balance.
Brad and the would-be hero squared off, with the driver
flipping the large flashlight from hand to hand as though
he'd used it in a fight before. The trucker asked Brad repeatedly
if he wanted a “piece.” Brad stood in the parking lot in
a fighting stance, saying, “Come and get it, man.”

Vicki rolled her eyes. Every time she read the account, it sounded more unbelievable.

Jessica said she was hysterical at this point, telling the
truckdriver she was okay and begging the man to leave
Brad alone. The driver finally backed off and went to his
truck, yelling threats at Brad as he stormed off. Jessica said
the driver even cussed at her for causing such a fuss. Brad
didn't want to let it go. He challenged the driver to come
back. She said the trucker told Brad, “I'm not done with
you, boy,” and climbed back inside a red semi truck tractor
with a silver trailer.

Brad went back to the car and grabbed another beer
from the backseat, took several long drinks, then threw the
can into the parking lot and slammed the door. Brad was
crying at this point and yelled, “Why!” Then he started
walking up the trail to the falls. When Brad disappeared
into the thick brush along the trail, Jessica went back to the
Subaru and ended up taking a nap out of exhaustion. When
she woke a couple of hours later, Jessica reported being scared
because it was getting dark and Brad was still gone. She
said the truckdriver who came to her aid hours earlier was
still sitting in his truck, watching her, which frightened her
more.

Jessica drove back home to see if anyone had heard from
Brad.

That was when Jessica had called the police, then Vicki and Todd.

What bothered Vicki most about the report was the very end, when the deputy had asked Jessica what she thought had happened.
“Maybe he jumped. People kill themselves at places like this
all the time, don't they?”