Waking the Dead (17 page)
Nothing about discovering those bags in the cave came close to qualifying as good timing.
They walked for well over four hours. After he told her that camping was allowed in some of the campgrounds for up to two weeks, Cait insisted on speaking to all the people in those areas. Which gave him time to relieve himself, but didn’t pay off in any other way, from what he could tell. He cooled his heels while she spoke to everyone in the area, including the camp host. Showed the pictures around. And learned nothing of value.
Not that the process didn’t generate some excitement. He watched derisively as the men in the area tripped all over themselves to be cooperative. Teenage boys were just as bad. Worse, probably, given the way the two punks in muscle shirts were edging closer to where she stood.
But she handled them, he noted reluctantly. Men and women alike were subjected to the same questions, delivered in the same crisp professional tone. Because he had no better way to pass the time, he watched.
She was an enigma. One that grew increasingly fascinating the more time he spent with her.
Cait’s feet were weeping by the time Sharper pulled into the parking lot of the General Store and slowed to a stop next to her vehicle. It was after seven. They’d continued their trek the last couple hours after Zach had called one of his employees and given him a pick-up location.
“Same time tomorrow?” She slung her pack over one arm and looked across the seat at him. Five o’clock shadow shaded his jaw, but if he shared her bone-deep exhaustion, it didn’t show.
“We can make it earlier if you can get up here from Eugene sooner in the morning. Cover more ground that way.”
She was certain her smile was pained. “Maybe I’ll stay in the area tonight.” She’d brought some changes of clothes thinking it was time to start mixing in a bit with the locals. Asking some questions. Listening to their conversations. But her major motivation at this point was to shave her commute time. The trip from Eugene was forty-five minutes. That was three quarters of an hour longer she could stay in bed.
“Good luck.”
She arched a brow. “Why do you say that?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Reservations fill up around here fast with tourists. Chances are you won’t find a room.”
“I won’t know until I try.” She eyed him speculatively, wondering if it were her imagination that made him seem anxious to be rid of her. In the next moment, he put the vehicle into gear, providing her answer.
“Whatever. See you here at six A.M.”
Wincing inwardly, Cait nodded and got out, heading to her car. Once she found a room, she’d soak her feet for an hour. Becoming aware of a twinge in her thigh, she mentally recalculated. She’d use that hour to soak her entire body. She could place a call to Kristy first and get an update before contacting Barnes.
Then she’d go out and mingle with the locals. There was a time for asking questions, and a time simply to listen. There was often insight to be had by hearing the locals’ perspective on a case.
“You’re lucky.” The woman behind the front desk of the McKenzie Motel wore a nametag with Nancy written on it and a tired smile. She handed Cait the key to her room. “Usually this time of year we’re booked up, most every day of the week.”
“So you’ve been getting some cancellations?”
The woman blew out an exasperated breath. “Are we! Seems like all I’ve done today is answer the phone. And that press conference yesterday didn’t help. Now that everyone in the state heard about what’s being going on around here, we’re going to get even more cancellations. Most aren’t that interested to come to a place where they’re liable to trip over human bones.”
A few of the campground hosts had said much the same. The sites were at half vacancy, rather than the nearly full occupancy that was the norm. Cait offered her a commiserating smile. “Well, once this is over the tourists will be back.”
“Maybe. But we can’t recoup the business lost, can we?” Nancy shook back her shoulder-length dark hair and leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “I can’t even really blame them. I haven’t been in the forest since I heard about what the sheriff’s department brought out of that cave. It’s scary, you know? I make my husband drive over and pick me up when I close the front office at ten, and we live in the rooms at the end of the motel lot. That’s how creeped out I am.”
Which maybe meant she wasn’t going to be able to speak to as many residents as she’d hoped, Cait thought. When people were spooked, they tended to stay inside with the doors and windows locked. “So is the town going to be pretty well rolled up early tonight?”
“Might be fewer people around, but the businesses are still operating as usual. Do you only have the one bag? Need any help with it?” When Cait shook her head, Nancy seamlessly switched back to her earlier topic. “JD’s seems to go strong, regardless. That’s a combination bar slash Internet café slash restaurant. Nothing special on the menu, just bar food, but it’s pretty good. Mullens and Tito’s are two nicer restaurants here on Main Street. Just steer clear of Ketchers’s tavern. It can get pretty rough after midnight.”
“Thanks.” Cait sent her a smile and picked up her bag. “I’ll remember that.”
The room was small and plain, but it boasted a full tub and plenty of hot water. She soaked for half the hour she’d promised herself before dragging herself out of the tub and hurriedly getting dressed. A meal could wait. There was still enough daylight to get a look at the town. Her stomach protested the plan as she slipped out the door and headed down the hall. The veggie sandwich she’d packed for lunch was a dim memory.
As she walked out of the motel, she pulled out her cell and called Kristy. The tech answered on the third ring.
“Where are you? Do I need to send a search party?”
“Not necessary.” Cait got into the SUV, started it, and pulled out of the lot. “I’m spending the night in McKenzie Bridge. That way I can get an earlier start tomorrow.”
There was a moment of silence. Then, “You’re spending the night . . . alone?”
It took less than a minute to find Main Street. Cait pulled over to the curb and got out, locking the door and heading for the sidewalk. “Of course alone. Who else would I be spending it with?”
The main thoroughfare was lined with shops and restaurants. Although there wasn’t much traffic on the street, there were people still moving about, making her wonder what exactly was opened at this time of the evening.
“Well, you did say you’d be with that guide all day. Sharper. I thought maybe you decided to scratch an itch while you were up there.”
Cait held the phone out in front of her and contemplated it for a moment. It frequently astounded her how brilliant her tech’s mind could be in the lab filled as it was with constant thoughts of sex. Resuming the conversation, she replied dryly, “The only itch I’m likely to encounter will be related to poison ivy. So far I’ve successfully avoided that.” She stepped aside so the young couple walking toward her strolling a toddler could get by on the sidewalk.
“Oh.” There was a pout in the woman’s voice. “So what’s the town like?”
Cait looked around before answering. “Picturesque.” Surrounded as it was by hills blanketed by forests, it was scenic. The bridge she’d driven over to get to the motel was quaint, its sign proclaiming that the site had been served by a covered bridge since 1890. It looked like a place only minimally touched by outside influence.
It didn’t look like a town that housed a serial killer.
She was reminded of Sharper’s words.
Dumping the bones in that cave makes me think this guy is local. Or else he used to be.
It was odd to hear him verbalize the same thought she’d voiced to the sheriff. Of course she’d been going on the UNSUB’s familiarity with the area. Sharper had added a different twist; why the offender had bothered with the cave in the first place. It had been an intriguing idea and one that bore further contemplation, especially as she began developing her profile.
“. . . and so then I thought, what the heck and I just threw all the bones in for an overnight chlorine bleach soak.”
Her focus snapped back to her cell phone conversation. “What?”
“Thought that would get your attention. You called me, remember?” Kristy complained. “The least you could do is listen.”
“I’m listening now.” Cait walked briskly down the wide sidewalk, looking into store windows. Of course her tech knew better than to bleach the bones. But she’d found a jarringly effective way of jolting Cait’s attention back to her.
“I got four of the specimens cleaned today. First I went over them all one more time with the UV lamp to be sure we didn’t miss anymore artwork from our creepazoid. I can get the rest of them done tomorrow.”
“You’ll be happy to know I’ll be bringing you more soil samples when I return.”
“Whatever.”
Cait’s brows rose at the woman’s careless remark. “You’ve changed your tune.” She strode swiftly by the Hair Emporium, a place called The Sweet Shoppe, and an antique store. Of the three, only the hair salon was still open.
“I want to stay busy,” Kristy corrected her. “And tomorrow when I finish cleaning the bones I’m going to be at loose ends.”
“Don’t forget to update the photo log. And I’ll try to find a way to get the samples to you tomorrow. You haven’t heard any more about the lab tests on the garbage bags, have you?”
“Are you kidding? Barnes doesn’t talk to me.”
She thought—she was almost certain—that she heard the murmur of a man’s voice in the background. Kristy was probably with the ME again. Cait hoped the man realized that he was going to be dropped without a backward glance when this case was over. Kristy was cheerfully promiscuous. She had no interest in forming lasting relationships.
Not that Cait had a better history in
that
particular area.
that
particular area.
“Give me a call if anything crops up. Otherwise I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Disconnecting, she dropped the cell phone in her purse and continued down the sidewalk. There were several cars around an ice cream shop she passed by, along with diners sitting at scattered tables on the walk outside the store. The requisite storefronts housing local accountants and lawyers. There were more gift shops than she would have believed one small town could sustain, their windows filled with crafts from local artisans, according to the signs. Glassware, pottery, artwork, candles, baskets . . . apparently the area housed many people of talent. Which Cait found more than a little amazing, since the craftiest thing she could do was braid her own hair.
Her interest turned to speculation. If the perp was a local, maybe some of his artwork could be found in one of the craft stores, either here or in a surrounding area. It may be a possibility to follow up on later.
She crossed the street ahead of two young boys barreling toward her on bikes. Their shouts of excitement brought a smile to her face. She’d had a bike once. It had been bright pink with streamers on the handlebars and training wheels on the back. A distant memory flickered, of her father holding on to the back of it as she wobbled her way down the drive-way and then back up again.
But once she’d outgrown that one, there had never been another. That was only one of the many changes that had occurred after her father’s death. Her mother had been too concerned about possible falls and resulting breaks . . . or worse, scrapes and scars that would limit her chances of attracting a top modeling agent.
Shrugging off the edge of melancholy that accompanied the thought, she stopped dead in front of a storefront that advertised a very different sort of business. A glassy-eyed fox peered out at her, one paw lifted, as if in midmovement. A ferocious-looking black bear stood in the back, teeth bared. There was also a mink, a bobcat, and the full skeleton of what might be an otter.
Adrenaline hummed in her veins. Cait stepped back a few steps, far enough to read the faded splintered sign above the shop. AL’S TAXIDERMY.
She studied the door. If Al kept regular hours, they weren’t posted. Still, she could ask around and figure the best way to talk to him. As she’d told the sheriff and deputy, many taxidermists regularly used dermestids to clean their animal skeletons. It would be interesting to discover if Al kept a colony of the bugs.
The storefronts cast long shadows on the streets. Night was edging in. And while there were still occasional cars cruising by, most of the activity seemed to surround the restaurants Nancy had mentioned. Cait headed back toward her vehicle. It’d be full dark when she finished eating. And she was suddenly reminded that she was ravenous.
When she got to King Road, she looked up the street toward the covered bridge, slowing when she saw the man standing before it. He appeared to be holding a sketchpad, his head bent over his work. Without further thought, she veered from her course and headed toward him.
He didn’t look up as she approached, and Cait stopped a few yards behind him to observe his progress. It was a better-than-decent rendering of the bridge, but rather than capturing the quaint, turn-of-the-century look, the sketch made it look eerie, somehow. A place of secrets and shadows with a vaguely sinister air.
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