Justice Overdue: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (8 page)

“We were friends. You put an end to that.”

“No, Varick. No.”

Lucas tightened his finger on the trigger. He didn’t have a lot of bullets left, but at least this one would be put to good use.

“Varick, you’re not going to—”

“It looks like I am,” Lucas said, as he squeezed the trigger.

Otis’s eyes were still wide, but now staring blankly at nothing as he crumpled to the dirt, a hole in his forehead. Varick had waited years for this day and now it was over. Justice was done at last.

He looked down at the body and sighed. “Sorry, old friend. You know how it is.”

It was time to dig a grave, and then find that money.

Chapter 16

Thursday, 9:45 PM

JAKE YAWNED and looked at his watch. He was getting tired and he expected the boys must be as well. They were active earlier, swimming, chasing each other through the bush, and working off energy until they dropped. Right now, they toasted marshmallows over the fire, having a grand old time.

He grabbed a bucket from the SUV and carried it down to the lake. Mist danced above the still waters, illuminated by the moonlight. He imagined the fish, just below the surface, waiting for some lucky angler to haul them in come morning. Fish for breakfast.

He filled the bucket with water and climbed back up the grade to the campsite. Kyle seemed to have grown tired of the sugary snacks and wandered around slapping at bugs with a tree branch.

Jake set the bucket down and dropped into the lawn chair. “We’d better settle in for the night, guys. It’s getting late and I know you’ll be up with the sun.”

Matty popped a darkened marshmallow into his mouth and looked at his father. “We going fishing tomorrow, Dad?”

“We’ll try it awhile. Then we’ll take a run into town. I want to call your mother and maybe grab a newspaper.”

Matty reluctantly packed up the snacks, stuffed them into a grocery bag, and tossed his toasting stick aside. “Let’s go, Kyle.”

Kyle took a final swing with his weapon, tossed it into the bushes, and followed Matty into the tent. Jake heard them scuffling about and giggling. Before too long, everything was quiet.

Jake thought about Annie. She had wanted some peaceful time at home, but how could it get any better than this? She didn’t know what she was missing. They’d been so busy lately, they barely had time for family and relaxation. He was going to get lots of that this weekend, and be refreshed and ready to get back at it the following week.

He sat and enjoyed the night sounds awhile. The fire crackled and hissed near his feet while crickets continued to surround him with their steady trilling. Somewhere far away a wolf howled—or was it a dog? The leaves above rustled as a light wind blew through the trees.

Something snapped in the bushes twenty feet away. Was it a raccoon, or a deer, perhaps a moose?

Jake swatted at a mosquito that had perched on his arm, looking to draw sustenance from his veins. Not tonight. He flicked the dead pest away and yawned again.

Time to turn in. He doused the fire with the pail of water he’d hauled from the lake earlier, waited a few minutes until he was sure it was extinguished, and then headed for the tent.

The boys bunked together on a foam mattress, snuggled up in separate bags. Jake lay on the other mattress, zipped up his sleeping bag, closed his eyes, and soon the night sounds lulled him asleep.

He was startled awake some time later by a whisper from across the tent. It was Kyle. “Mr. Lincoln, wake up.” The voice persisted, repeating, and growing louder. “Mr. Lincoln. Mr. Lincoln.”

Jake groaned and opened his eyes. Kyle was out of bed and crawling on his hands and knees toward him. The boy looked frightened as he leaned in. “Are you awake?”

“What is it, Kyle?”

“There’s someone outside. I can hear someone out there.”

Jake listened a moment. “I don’t hear anything.”

“There was a minute ago. I heard somebody walking around.”

Matty rolled over and moaned. “What’s going on?”

Kyle waved a hand at his friend. “Shhh. There’s somebody out there,” he whispered.

Jake continued to listen but heard nothing but the natural sounds of the forest at night. He unzipped the bag and tossed the flap aside. “I’ll go take a look,” he whispered, and then stopped halfway to his feet. He had heard the certain sound of a twig snapping outside the tent, close by.

Matty sat upright, his mouth and eyes wide. Kyle had retreated and buried himself in his blankets, only the whites of his frightened eyes visible.

Jake held up his hand in warning. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

He crept to the door of the tent, slowly unzipped the flap, and stepped out into the moonlight. He glanced around the site. There was no sign of an intruder. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow disappear behind a bush thirty feet away, too dark to make out a shape. Was it man or animal?

Jake took a step forward. “You there, stop,” he called.

There was no response and no sound from the intruder.

“Who’s there?” He took another step, and then stopped to listen.

“Is someone there, Dad?” He turned to see Matty, his head stuck through the flap of the tent.

Jake waved a hand. “Get back inside,” he said, and then took a step toward the prowler. The bush swayed, and then came the unmistakable sound of running footsteps going the other way.

Jake went toward the sound, and then stopped to listen. All was still again. He should’ve brought a flashlight. There was an electric lantern in the tent—not much good, but the flashlight was in the SUV. Should he go back and get it?

Again he heard running as if someone was trying to make a hasty getaway. Whoever, or whatever it was, it was going fast, branches crackling underfoot, the rustling of leaves, and the thud of heavy footsteps.

Jake dashed into the darkness of the forest, fumbling his way through bushes and low-hanging branches, but the sounds ahead faded from sight. It was gone. He would never catch up now.

He stood still a moment, listening for further signs of the intruder, but was unrewarded. He returned to the tent and poked his head inside. “I think it was just a deer or a wild animal. Go back to sleep. Nothing to be worried about,” he said, but wasn’t so sure. He had an uneasy feeling it was more than that. Possibly another camper had wandered into their camping spot, but that seemed unlikely.

The boys drifted back to sleep, content they were safe. Jake sat in the lawn chair and kept watch lest the interloper should return. Eventually he began to drift off, so he returned to the tent and lay down. He slept uneasily the rest of the night; he had a bad feeling.

Chapter 17

Friday, 7:15 AM

VARICK LUCAS rose up early despite feeling exhausted from his adventures of the last couple of days. After a quick breakfast, it was time to get reacquainted with his surroundings.

It was several years since he’d been up here. A lot of the familiar trees that surrounded the cabin had grown taller, young ones popping up to take their place. Patches of shrubs and weeds took over the clearing around the cabin. Maybe he would pull them up later and clean up the area a little bit.

The uncharted wilderness where the cabin sat was at least a couple miles from anywhere, and anybody, in any direction—a long way for people to wander when faced with a dense forest. He had no fear of being discovered. And certainly the cops would never suspect he was so far north.

If he remembered correctly, the grandfather of one of his old friends had built this place eons ago, then the old man died, and the place went unused for decades. He and his friends had resurrected it a few years ago, but according to Otis, none of the guys had come up here since then. And now, sad to say, Otis had passed on, and it was just him now.

He had wandered out briefly last night before going to bed. There was a guy—a big guy—who’d set up camp a bit east, in an area not often frequented by visitors. Varick had snooped around their campsite until he heard a kid whispering inside the tent. He’d been heard. As soon as he backed out of the site, the big guy crawled from the tent and tried to follow him. Varick had no weapons with him so he beat it out of there.

He planned to be more careful this time. That big guy could probably snap him in two given half a chance. But now he had his pistol stuffed behind his belt and Otis’s hunting knife strapped to his leg. Otis had a rifle as well, and a good supply of ammunition, but he would keep that for hunting. He preferred a pistol anyway.

He locked up the cabin, dropped the key to the padlock into his pocket, crossed the clearing, and headed into the forest. He gave a quick salute as he passed Otis’s grave. Sleep well, old pal.

It took him just over an hour to reach the campsite he’d visited the night before. This time, he made a more careful approach, walking slowly, and stopping often to listen.

The site was quiet. Their vehicle was there, but no sign of life. Could they still be sleeping? Not likely. People didn’t come all the way up here to sleep in. More than likely, they were out tromping the woods, or perhaps fishing.

The faint sound of laughter caught his attention, coming from down by the lake, a hundred yards away. He headed toward the sound and in a moment, he saw them. There were two kids with the big guy—not just one. The boys splashed around in the lake but the big guy was somewhat further to the left, perched on an outcropping of rock.

No women around anywhere. Probably just as well. From his experience, women were always trouble, always nagging, always wanting to do this, do that. Other than for one thing, women didn’t serve much of a purpose—except for his mother of course. She was a saint. She put up with the old man for a long time, until the drunken skunk finally dropped dead. Varick was only twelve at the time, but it was liberating. His mother smiled more after that.

In spite of his father’s death, or perhaps because of it, he had excelled in school, usually grading near the top of the class.

And then his mother died as well. Probably the result of one too many beatings the old man had given her in the past. Well, she was better off now. It was then that he dropped out of high school, vanquishing all thoughts of a higher education. He just didn’t care any more.

Varick shook himself from memories of the unpleasant past and watched as the guy on the rock cast a line and slowly wound it in. He knew from experience, the waters were deeper in that area. He’d pulled a few lake bass from there himself in times past. He wondered how the guy knew about it. He must’ve been up here before as well.

He would have to get rid of them somehow. Would he kill them? He would find it hard to kill the boys, but he would have no problem with offing the big guy. Or perhaps he would scare them away. There had to be a solution. This was his back yard, not theirs.

He descended the grade to the tree line, hunched down out of sight, and watched them awhile. The kids still splashed in the water and the guy had caught a couple of nice-sized fish.

They were going to be awhile longer. The guy had cast out again and he looked like he was in no hurry to leave. Might as well go back up to the site and check it out.

He rose to his feet, made his way back up the grade, and entered the site. He looked into the tent. Not much there, some blankets, sleeping bags, a lantern, and that’s about it.

He backed out and looked around. There was nothing of use at the campsite at all except a lawn chair. Better not touch that. Too obvious. He didn’t need it anyway.

He peeked in the window of the SUV. Too bad he didn’t know how to break into these things. That’s where they kept all the good stuff. There was a whole cache of goodies inside. He checked all the doors. Locked. If only he could get ahold of the keys, surely he could liberate some items they wouldn’t miss. He returned to the tent, lifted the mattress, checked under the lantern, but the guy must’ve taken the keys with him.

That would have to wait. There may be other campers further east where he could do a little shopping.

The morning’s excursion hadn’t netted him much—nothing in fact, but it had killed a little time. He could always come back later.

Chapter 18

Friday, 9:20 AM

JAKE HAD CAUGHT a couple of nice-sized smallmouth bass. One would be enough for breakfast. He gave the smallest one back its freedom, packed up his gear, and wandered over to where the boys had tired of swimming and were building a sandcastle in a small sandy area of the beach.

“Let’s go back up to the site, guys,” Jake said.

Matty looked up and squinted away the sun. “Can we stay here a bit longer? We’re almost done with this.”

Jake looked at their work of art. Not bad. Maybe he would have to show them how to do it right a little bit later. “Ok, just a few minutes. And don’t go back in the water without me around.”

“We won’t, Mr. Lincoln.”

Jake left the boys and hiked up the grade to the campsite, cleaned the fish, and soon got it sizzling over a fire. In a few minutes, Matty and Kyle appeared, and they devoured a meal of roast fish and baked potatoes. When they’d finished cleaning up, they packed their cooking utensils and the leftover fish in the SUV, climbed in, and headed for town.

A couple of miles from the park entrance sat the small town of Whaleton. It wasn’t much to look at. The kind of town you might miss if you blink, barely a dot on any map. The village consisted of a handful of houses, an auto repair shop, and a small convenience store that served the surrounding neighborhood. A liquor outlet and a grocery store, along with an outdoor shop, occupied a small plaza further on.

Jake pulled in front of the convenience store and they went inside. A pimply-faced man in his early twenties sat behind the counter, sucking on a popsicle and reading a magazine. He looked up as the newcomers entered, gave a nod, and buried himself back in his reading.