Paradise Falls (18 page)

No. Turn around and look.

She turned back and looked. Jacob was moving around the car, snapping more pictures.
 

“Jacob?”
 

“What is it?”
 

“Look at this.”
 

She pointed at the door. He moved beside her.
 

“Why is there blood on the outside?”
 

He glanced at her. With his mask on his eyes were like lights in the dark. “Why do you ask?”
 

“When you shoot somebody, the blood goes the other way, right? Like, through them.” She made a motion with her hand.

He blinked. “Yes, it usually splatters in the opposite direction of the shooter. The major wound from a gunshot is almost always the exit wound, where the blood leaves the body. How did you know that?”
 

“I had a professor that was convinced the Kennedy assassination was a conspiracy theory,” said Jennifer.

Jacob stood to his full height and took more pictures of the side of the car.
 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” he said.
 

“None of it makes any sense,” said Jennifer. “What’s it mean?”
 

He moved closer, looking around, and rose on the balls of his feet to look through the hole in the windshield.
 

“The kids were definitely inside the car when they were shot.”
 

“So who was outside?” said Jennifer.
 

“Good question,” said Jacob. “If there was a third person shot at the scene, it means two things. The police either don’t know that, or they do know and they’re lying.”

“I’m shocked,” Jennifer said.

Jacob nodded. “We’ve been in here too long. Let’s get back to the car and head up to the game lands.”

After checking everything was tucked into his belt, he led the way back through the fence. Jennifer stood lookout while he carefully put the chain link back in place and secured it with a tiny screwdriver. Then they headed back to the car.
 

Jennifer closed her eyes as she sat down in the passenger’s seat. The image of the blood-crusted car followed her. It was repulsive, yes, but something about it was so
sad
. Her mind’s eye filled with images of Cole washing and working on it, of his young eyes sparkling with pride as he picked up Krystal for their date. There was something mournful about the car, like it missed its owner.
 

Jennifer peeled the mask up and scrubbed at her eyes with her fingers. Jacob touched her arm.
 

“You okay?”
 

“No,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Lightly, he put his arm around her in a slow, jerky movement, not really touching her at first, and when she didn’t move he let it settle on her shoulders. Jennifer shifted to lean over and let him put his arms around her. Part of her flickered with irrational, unneeded, unwanted fear, but the better part of her wanted to be surrounded in warmth. She put her hands on his chest and felt him breath. The scars stood out in hard ridges all over the tightly packed muscle. She kept her eyes pressed tightly shut and willed the tears away before they could begin to flow, pushing the mournful image of the ruined car out of her head. Finally she pushed loose, sat up, and sat back against the seat. Jacob let go of her, ran his hand over his face and put the car in gear.

4.

The crime scene was about fifty yards ahead, marked by yellow tape that glowed in the dark. Some of the tape was tattered, falling away. The work here had already been done. The ground was still mucky from Saturday’s rains. Jennifer stood by a tree and watched Jacob move slowly towards the perimeter, until he finally lifted the tape and ducked under. Jennifer tensed as he moved around int he dark. As her eyes adjusted everything turned silver.
 

When he called back, she jumped.
 

“Come over.”
 

Jennifer took a quick look around and made her way over, staring down to avoid tripping on a root or a branch and falling face first into the mud. She carefully followed all the other tracks to the tape, lifted it, and swung under. It took her another minute of carefully placing her feet to reach Jacob. He looked around like all this mud in the pitch black meant something to him.
 

“This is a joke,” he said.
 

“What is?”
 

“This crime scene. It looks like Carlyle lined up all his people and had them stomp on it to obscure any evidence. I would assume they took photos and casts, but if they didn’t, this scene is useless.” He took a few steps and pointed with both hands. “This is where the truck was. See the impressions from the tires?”
 

Jennifer nodded.
 

“They were here before it rained. It softened the soil around the car and the tires sank in. You can see there where the wrecker tore up the mud, pulling it out.” He gestured to the deep ruts leading back onto the road.
 

“What are these other marks?”

The whole clearing was criss-crossed with lighter, narrower tire marks. Jacob followed her, carefully stepping around them, chewing his lip. Jennifer folded her arms under her chest and looked around, staring into the gouges in the mud. Something about them was bothering her, and then it hit.

“Motorcycles,” Jacob said, before she could.
 

“That’s why they don’t line up.”
 

He nodded. The tire tracks converged, spread apart, crossed each other.

“How many?” said Jennifer.
 

“At least three,” she said. “There was another vehicle here, too. Look.”
 

He pointed and snapped pictures of a deep rut in the mud, torn where the gravel shoulder of the road met the clearing. Krystal and Cole parked in one of the pull-offs hunters used in the winter and fall to park and go into the game lands for deer, squirrels, and turkeys, or the occasional black bear. Jacob was studying the imprint, leaning down to snap pictures.
 

“See how these two run so close together?”
 

Jennifer crouched beside him. The ruts were deep, and right next to each other. The mud was churned by both wheels at the same time, from the way it made a weird mucky channel down the middle of the two tracks.
 

“Big pickup,” said Jacob. “A dually.”
 

“Dually?” said Jennifer.

“The kind that has two tires in the back. You need one for towing something heavy. The hitch is mounted in the bed, not on the rear frame, to support more weight.”
 

“A few of the kids drive those,” said Jennifer. “I didn’t know they had a name.”

Jacob crouched and gnawed at his lip, eyes narrowed as he scanned the tracks.

There were lights coming up the road. Jacob took her arm and pulled her back to the trees. Jennifer mostly hopped on her one foot and ducked behind a thick trunk while Jacob crouched in the brush.

The lights swung around and behind them was a big, seventies Chrysler, a huge, slabby land yacht of a car in blotchy green with rust all around the wheel wells. It pulled to a clanking stop and sat for a moment before the ponderous doors swung open and two men stepped out. The headlamps made it hard to see.

As the driver came around the car, Jennifer blinked. He was enormous, taller than Jacob, taller even than Grayson Carlyle. He had to be over seven feet tall. The dark, the bright lights behind him, and long lanky brown hair made it all but impossible to see his face.

The passenger was much shorter, and older, heavy around the middle. They were both dressed in heavily worn jeans, boots and athletic t-shirts.

The pair looked over as another car rolled up and the driver stepped out. He was of a height with the older man, blonde haired and skinny, and wearing a leather motorcycle vest with a big patch on the back- a cartoony whale with an angry grimace and a muscular arm.
 

“Leviathans,” Jennifer whispered.
 

“You fucking retard,” the older man barked. “I said no colors.”
 

The younger one started to speak, but the old man slapped him.
 

“You’re driving a fucking Honda Accord. You don’t need your colors, you ass. Why do I even bother with you?” he shook his shaggy head and tugged on a long white beard. “Where the fuck have you been?”
 

“I was busy.”
 

“Right,” the old man said.
 

The gaunt giant loomed over them both, but said nothing.
 

“What the hell are we doing out here, anyway?” the young one said.
 

“I had to check it out for myself,” said the old man. “Some asshole from my club was involved, after all.”

“I was just-“
 

“If you weren’t my son, I’d cut your balls off. Shut up.”
 

The leader motioned and the three men started moving through the crime scene.
 

“We cleaned up all the bullets,” said the blond boy.
 

“I said shut up,” said the old man.
 

Jennifer held her breath as they moved closer. If they looked over and stared hard into the woods, they’d spot her. She slowly slid down the tree into a crouch, ignoring the screaming pain in her leg. Jacob was still frozen, but he was slowly working a knife into either hand from the pouches on his forearms. He glanced at her but didn’t move a muscle, other than his fingers.
 

The three men walked slowly around the crime scene, staring into the mud.
 

“Nobody’s gonna find anything,” said the blond-haired boy.
 

“If they want something, they’ll find it,” said the old man. “You should have come to me. You understand? We’re replaceable. First sign of trouble, and they’ll turn around and put everything on us. Who picked up the shell casings?”

“Ellison.”

Jennifer shivered.
 

Ellison Carlyle. She glanced at Jacob, and he returned her look. His eyes were hard, and she could see his face tightening in fury under the mask.

The old man rounded on the boy and seized him by the collar. His heels came up from the mud with a soft sucking sound. The old man growled in his face.
 

“You stupid shit,” he snarled. “You mean he walked out of here with a bag of evidence that could show up at any time and tie you to the crime. Where’s your piece?”

Before he could answer, the old man roughly search him, shoving his hands in his pockets and under his coat until he came back with a heavy pistol with gleaming mother of pearl grips.

“A thirty-eight super?” he said, incredulous. “Peal grips? What is this? Are you a Leviathan or a pimp in a cheap New Orleans whorehouse?”
 

“Dad-“

“Shut up.” He held it out and the big man took it without a word. “I want that fucking thing as far away from here as possible. Take care of it.”
 

The big man nodded and tucked it in his waistband, and folded his huge arms.

“You two,” he said. “Look around, hard. Make sure there’s nothing else tying this back to us.”
 

He stormed back to the big Chrysler and orange light flared in the dark. He lit a cigar and took a long pull on it, and blew a tail of smoke out into the dark as the other two walked the crime scene. The blond boy wasn’t paying much attention, but the big man moved in slow circles, studying the ground.
 

He moved closer and closer to Jennifer and Jacob, but didn’t look over. He stopped to scuff at the ground with his boot heel, bent, and picked something up. It flashed in the dark and then disappeared with his big hand back into his pants pocket. As he did, his head turned and he looked over, right at Jennifer.
 

She froze, completely, grinding every muscle in her body to a halt, not even breathing. If he saw her, he gave no sign. He looked for only a moment before turning back and taking long strides across the mud to grab the blond boy by the arm and drag him back, duck under the police tape and head over to the car.
 

“You,” the old man said to the boy, “I don’t want to see you in town until I give the say-so. You’re going to Port Carol until this is handled. Fuck with me on this and you’re out. Cut off, completely. Persona non grata. Now get the fuck out of here.”
 

The boy stumbled back to his car, jumped inside, and slowly backed off before turning and driving into the night.
 

“How’d I ever have a son like him?” the old man said.
 

The tall man shrugged, but didn’t answer. After a moment, both dipped back into the big car and it rumbled to life and rolled on.

Jennifer’s burning lungs protested as she let out a slow breath. She stood up, flexing her hurt ankle, and looked over at Jacob. He stood and peeled his mask up, and glanced over.

“Well,” he said, “That was interesting. Let’s get back to the car.”
 

Jennifer nodded. When they were back in his car, she peered through the windshield into the trees.

“Ellison was here.”
 

“Go on.”
 

“Ellison ties it back to Elliot. If this was about the drugs, that ties them all to it.”
 

“Won’t hold up in court,” said Jacob, “and that blond haired one was right. He gave Ellison a pile of evidence to show it was him, and no one would buy some crazy story about Ellison being in on it.”
 

“You think he killed those kids?” said Jennifer. “The blond boy?”
 

“Sounds like it,” Jacob said, surprisingly calm. “We need more information. He said Ellison ‘and the kid’ were here. The kid might be the boy Hunter they’re pinning this on. I want to know where he is. We need to find out everything we can about him.”
 

“I could look him up in the school database,” said Jennifer. “His full name and address and his legal guardians will all be on record with the district.”