Black Sheep (17 page)

Finally he nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait in the car.”

“No. My mom will be worried. You go ahead and I’ll meet you back at the VistaView.”
The sirens were louder now, almost here. A beer bottle flew past, coming from the
direction of the dance floor.

Reluctantly he wove his way between the vehicles crowding the parking lot. She covered
his back until he was safely in his Volvo. He pulled onto the road just as the first
sheriff’s car pulled in from the opposite direction, followed quickly by two more
squads and an SUV.

Caitlyn was about to make her own escape when she heard a voice behind her. “If you’re
still here tomorrow, we’ll be by to collect that apology, Special Agent Tierney.”

Weasel. The same voice as the man who’d tackled her earlier in the evening, confirming
her suspicions.
Nice to meet ya. Again.

Caitlyn turned and flipped him the bird. Just in time for a sheriff’s deputy to spot
the gun in her other hand.

“Hold it! Show me your hands!”

*   *   *

“Sheriff Markle wants to talk to you.” The deputy escorted Caitlyn from the back of
his car but didn’t say a word as he walked her over to a white Tahoe emblazoned with
the Balsam County Sheriff’s Department insignia.

Markle was in his early sixties, trim except for the slightest hint of a double chin,
upright posture, salt-and-pepper hair trimmed in a buzz cut. Former military, Caitlyn
guessed. Local boy, returned home, settled in. And, she thought as she caught the
changes in his expression when he spotted the civilians gathered in the parking lot,
a born politician.

“Do you respond to all the Friday-night drunk-and-disorderly calls, Sheriff?” she
asked, getting a jump on the conversation. A frown creased his eyes but his smile
never wavered. Superglued in place.

“Only when they involve a federal agent, Ms. Tierney. Can I ask what your business
here is?” Translation: Why the hell are the feds messing in my sandbox?

“Looking for a missing person.”

“Looking? As in the FBI is looking or you are? Because it’s customary to notify local
law enforcement when you’re working a case in their territory.”

“I’m looking. Daughter of a friend.” Not the total truth, but close enough. She handed
him Lena’s photo. “Sorry, Sheriff. I planned to stop by in the morning. Had no idea
tonight would be so … eventful.”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded as if he wanted to be helpful but his eyes slit in disapproval
when he glanced at the picture. “The Hale girl? Sure, I know her. Been a pain in my
butt the past few years—always sending requests for information, coming down on the
weekends and school breaks to pester folks who remember her dad’s case. Not that many
are left—or care. Haven’t seen her for a while, though.”

Not what the deputy who’d been keeping her company while they waited for the sheriff
to arrive had said. “Your deputy mentioned that he’d seen her at the station a few
days ago.”

His shrug was larger than it needed to be. “Don’t know. We’ve got nothing to hide.
You can ask my men all you want, As long as it’s not while they’re on duty.” He leaned
his weight against the Tahoe’s fender. “Now, about this mess here tonight. I’m assuming
you don’t want me calling your supervisors and letting them know you were involved
in an assault?”

A not-so-subtle threat. She waved it away like a stray snowflake. “I’m sorry, Sheriff,
someone seems to have misinformed you. If you look at the witness statements, you’ll
see that I didn’t assault anyone. I was the one who was assaulted while trying to
protect a civilian. And that man”—she pointed to Goose, forcing herself not to roll
her eyes at the biker’s nickname—“and several of his fellow Reapers pulled guns on
me and an unarmed civilian.”

Unfortunately Weasel was nowhere to be seen or she would have gladly fingered him
as well. Markle didn’t look at Goose, instead kept his stare on her as if waiting
for her to buckle.

“I understand the recreational bikers bring a lot of tourism dollars to the county,”
she continued. “I’m sure you don’t want a loose cannon among the Reapers running around
threatening civilians. Not to mention the good citizens who elected you.”

Across the parking lot, the older biker called Poppy, the one with the dead eyes,
gestured to Markle as if he were the boss of Markle. Probably was. The sheriff pushed
away from the Tahoe. “Thank you, Ms. Tierney. I’ll take care of everything.”

Then he swung back to Caitlyn. This time his smile was genuine but no less menacing.
“Tierney? Any relation to Sean Tierney? We were deputies together.”

“I’m his daughter.”

“Really? Well, how about that. Your dad was a good man, good cop.” He gave her another
look of disapproval. “You’d think his daughter would have more common sense about
poking a hornet’s nest. Especially with civilians around.”

Caitlyn was silent. Already beating herself up enough, thank you very much. Not to
mention looking forward to hearing it from Paul and her mother and probably Uncle
Jimmy as well. But what was she supposed to do, let the Reapers get away with anything
they damn well pleased?

“Funny you looking for Lena Hale.” The sheriff stopped, waited. Forcing her to break
the silence and ask.

“Because of what her father did?”

“No. Because her last request for information was the case file on your daddy’s suicide.”
He continued past her, waving a hand over his shoulder in dismissal without turning
his face to look at her. “You have a good night now. Caitlyn.”

He said her name like she was a nine-year-old. Probably how he remembered her. And
about the age she’d acted tonight, letting the Reapers get under her skin.

Caitlyn wandered over to the Subaru and sat on its hood, thinking. Why would Lena
be researching Caitlyn’s father’s death? Eli Hale had said Sean Tierney’s death had
something to do with the same mysterious “they” he thought were threatening Lena,
but she’d written that off as the paranoid delusions of a man incarcerated for a quarter
century.

Still, Lena was definitely missing. And the people of Evergreen were lying about her—at
least some of them were. The trick would be in separating the truth from the lies.

If Eli was right and Lena was in danger, then she’d better move fast.

A deputy escorted Goose to his squad car and placed the Reaper into the rear seat.
One obstacle out of the way, Caitlyn thought. Now to deal with the next: Paul.

She sighed and got into the Impreza, heading toward the VistaView. She still had to
sort through Eli’s papers, placate Paul, and come up with a game plan to find Lena.
It was going to be a long night.

But all that wasn’t what kept her hunched over the steering wheel as the Subaru rounded
the twisted curves leading up the mountain to Evergreen. It was the thought of her
father, lying in his own blood, his service weapon at his hand.

Why would Lena be investigating a twenty-six-year-old suicide?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Lena’s cabin was silent and Bernie wondered if she was sleeping. He tiptoed through
the front room to the walk-in closet where he’d left her. Didn’t want to disturb her.
The air in the cabin was a little chilly. There was no central heat, but he’d banked
the woodstove before he left yesterday. It must have gone out.

A floorboard creaked beneath his weight. He listened. No sound from Lena, not even
that crazy-mixed-up praying-hymn-singing she’d been doing yesterday. She had such
a beautiful voice. Listening to her was like nothing he’d ever experienced. Fear shuddered
through him—what if she’d had a reaction to the drugs? What if something was wrong?

He fumbled for the key to the padlocked door, finally found it, twisted it in the
lock, snapped the padlock off, and pulled the door open. Dust filled the air, making
him sneeze. He turned on the light.

A mountain of plaster filled the center of the closet. And the outside wall had a
giant hole gouged through it.

Lena was gone.

Bernie stood, his breathing so hard and fast it about pulled him out of his boots.
“Lena!”

His shout swirled through the plaster dust. He turned and ran outside, circling the
cabin to the hole on the side wall. Just enough snow to reveal her footsteps, thank
God.

He raced to the pickup, grabbed a flashlight, and ran back to her trail. Large, bare
feet stomped over and across Lena’s trail. The chimps. If they hurt her, he’d shoot
them, kill them all, he swore.

Bernie always carried his granddaddy’s bear-hunting pistol with him when he visited
the leopard. The gun was an old Smith & Wesson .44 magnum revolver, big thing, heavy,
too. Although Bernie had shot plenty of game with long guns, he’d never actually aimed
Granddad’s revolver at any living thing.

The two times he’d come across black bears in close proximity he’d had a shot but
just couldn’t bring himself to take it. Seemed a shame to destroy such beautiful creatures.
Not without good reason, anyway. So he’d kept the revolver holstered while he and
the bears had themselves a quiet conversation. Both times things ended with the bears
sauntering off into the woods, ignoring Bernie like he wasn’t even there.

Now he pulled the .44 free of its holster. Held it in one hand and the flashlight
in the other as he bent low, straining to make out the tracks in the windblown snow.
They led in a semicircle bounded by the tree line. Thank God, she was too smart to
go into the woods. She’d be lost for sure in there, a city girl like her.

“Lena.” He called her name again but the wind swept it away.

An indention in the snow in the shape of a woman’s body grabbed his attention. She’d
lain down. In the snow. Why? Was she hurt?

He found no blood, just more chimpanzee tracks. A handprint—a woman’s. She’d pushed
herself up, staggered onward. He followed once more then raised his head.

The tracks led to the log cabin where the leopard was. He raised his light and saw
that the door was open.

Before he could move a woman screamed.

“Lena!”

*   *   *

Questions spun in Caitlyn’s brain. But that was okay: Finding answers was what she
was good at. Sometimes because she could see patterns and possibilities others were
blind to. Sometimes because she was lucky. Mostly it was simple, pure, unadulterated
stubbornness.

Like tonight. Clearly the Reapers were involved with Lena’s disappearance. Lena must
still be alive or they wouldn’t have warned Caitlyn to stop looking for her. Did they
have Lena and want Caitlyn off their trail? Or were they looking for her themselves
and wanted the competition gone?

If the Reapers were involved with Lena, odds were they were also behind Eli’s death.
Which meant they might have had something to do with what put Eli in prison in the
first place.

Could everything she’d believed for the past twenty-six years be a lie? What if Eli
was innocent?

A chill shook her despite the Subaru’s heater. What if her dad didn’t kill himself?

The thought was a familiar demon, one she’d tangled with all her life. Trying to excuse
Sean Tierney, to find ways to love him without being so furious that he’d abandoned
them—abandoned her. Didn’t he love her enough to stay with her and Mom, face whatever
he was frightened of?

She’d learned over the years not to follow that path. It only led to heartbreak.

But still the insidious whisper that had haunted her all her life came:
Maybe he didn’t love me. Maybe I don’t deserve to be loved.

No. She blinked hard, turned the windshield wipers up higher to fight the snow whipping
through the dark outside.

Lena didn’t have time for Caitlyn to be distracted by would’ve, could’ve, should’ve
wishes from the past. As it was, the present held too many what-ifs, not enough leads.

She pulled over into the empty parking lot of a strip mall that featured Mexican,
Chinese, BBQ, and McDonald’s alongside a Korean nail joint and a Dollar Store. Something
for everyone.

Grabbed her phone and dialed. “Boone, it’s Tierney.”

“You any idea what time it is?”

“Shit. No. Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No.” He sighed and she realized he wasn’t being sarcastic. “Don’t sleep much anymore.
What’s up?”

“You guys have any sets affiliated with an OMG called the Reapers?”

“Thanks to the ATF we’ve got just about every outlaw motorcycle gang in the country
represented here. Bureau of Prisons tries to spread them around, avoid trouble while
they’re inside.” Like shipping the Surenos from California to do their time. “So yeah,
I’m sure we got a few Reapers. They hooked up with the Aryan Nation boys as well?
We got tons of those guys.”

“I don’t know. Not exactly my area of expertise.”

“What do the Reapers have to do with my little slice of heaven?”

“There’s a chapter in Evergreen, Eli Hale’s hometown. I think they might be involved
in the hit on him.”

“Care to explain why? Hale never had any problems with any of the OMG guys—or the
AN, for that matter. Why target him now?”

Good question. “I’m working on it. Just see if you can find anything, would ya?”

“Sure, because I’m Santa and it’s Christmas every day around here.”

He hung up, leaving her in the dark with more questions than ever.

Okay, back to tonight. It was no accident the Reapers ambushed her in her room at
the VistaView. Obviously Goose had overheard her room number. Or they’d bribed the
desk clerk. If they had her room number, how hard would it be to get a key?

Maybe Weasel had tackled her from behind the door to her room? Had been inside lying
in wait?

She reran the few seconds in her mind. Didn’t feel right. He’d had enough momentum
to propel her the whole way into the bedroom. Plus, it was a pretty stupid thing to
do after going to the trouble of getting her room number. Assaulting a federal agent?
It was sure to get her pissed off. No way they could actually believe that stunt would
make her turn tail and run.