The Killers Amongst Us: Chimera Dawn Chronicles (15 page)

“How long do you reckon that you could survive?” Shaw asked.

“Long enough,” he said, and laughed.

“At least you’ll not die of thirst,” Frank said, tapping the
water tanker with his fist, and then walked back to their vehicle.

“If that’s all, I have work to do now? Incidentally, I heard
they found the boy. How is he?” the head prepper asked.

“Stable. They have him at the UCLA medical center in LA. My
daughter’s down there now with his family.” Shaw said.

“Good, I hope he makes a quick recovery.”

The Jeep driver came over and stood alongside them.

“I’ll see you out,” he said. He raised his chin, and sniffed
in Shaw’s direction.

“Come on, let’s go,” Shaw said to Frank. He turned to the head
prepper. “Can you give me a contact number? I may need you to give a written
statement in town, together with the ones who saw the dog.”

“Sure,” the head prepper said. He dipped his hand in his
pocket, pulled out a business card and handed it to Shaw. The logo on his
jacket was the same as the one on his card.

The sound of children laughing drifted from inside the
compound, over the hum of a generator.

“Family?”

“Of course. No point surviving otherwise.”

Shaw clambered onto his seat alongside Frank, and they drove
off behind the Jeep.

“Frank, tell me honestly, do I smell? That’s not the first
time today someone has sniffed at me.”

“No, but I smell a rat. They know more than they’re sayin’.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. That’s why I want to get him
down to the office to ask questions on my own territory. Those guys with the
rifles made me uncomfortable, together with those dogs.”

“Me too. Especially, when you look around, and there’s
nowhere for goats to graze.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Shaw said. “It’s not like the Dobermans
wouldn’t have noticed a feral dog running around.”

“It’s not just that. The water tanker was empty when I first
tapped it with my knuckles. The second time it was full. Why say they were
filling their underground tank?”

SHAW
turned off the country road toward Frank’s
homestead. A first visit, he was surprised by the number of barns sprawled
around his home. Set in a two-acre plot, a coral to the right held a chestnut
mare with its foal prancing around and stirring up dust.

“Thanks for inviting me for dinner. This is some spread you
have here,” said Shaw.

Frank chuckled.

“It used to be before the arthritis set in. I keep telling
June we should downsize now the kids have left. It’s hard for me to keep up
with the repairs.”

“How are the ankles?”

“Still good, no pain.”

“Lived here long?”

“Born here. Ma and Pa built the house and barns. The kids
won’t be interested in keeping it when we pass on.”

They pulled up in front of the house, and parked next to a
line of five cars.

“Why all the barns?”

“Pa was a hoarder. He used to buy lots at auction that no
one would bid on because most of it was junk. That, and stuff he collected from
his demolition business. I have one barn I use as a stable for the horses, and
another for my army memorabilia. Guess some of Pa’s hoarding rubbed off. We get
pickers from time to time buying some of the items. Surprising what they’ll pay
for. Saying that, sometimes it’s hard to let go of some things that Pa used to
treasure. Still, it keeps us afloat.”

“Visitors?” Shaw said, as they both climbed out of their
seats.

“Looking at the cars, I’d say June’s brought her friends
back from church.”

Frank didn’t look pleased, setting a sour expression.

“Listen, if it’s not convenient, I can eat back at my
apartment.”

“Don’t even think about it. June won’t mind... I hope.”

Shaw raised an eyebrow at his last words. They arrived at
the door. Frank pointed to a coat stand to one side on the porch.

“Hat and boots,” he said, placing his hat on the stand, and
then balancing on one foot, he removed a boot. Shaw did as asked and removed
his hat and boots. Frank opened the door to the sound of the women chatting
over each other. The smell of freshly baked bread permeated from the kitchen,
together with the banter of the women drifting into the living room area.

“Honeykins, I’m home. I have Sheriff Shaw with me.”

The women’s chatter stopped. A woman walked into the room
from the kitchen. No more than five foot two, gray hair and thin features, she
peered at Shaw over half-rimmed spectacles.

“I’ve invited him to dinner.”

She stood akimbo, setting an uncomfortable stare at Shaw.

“Good thing I made stew. You can have that with some of the
bread we’ve baked and eat it on the porch. I don’t want either of you under our
feet.”

The other women bustled out of the kitchen and stood behind
her. Frank looked pained at the lack of a warm welcome. Despite her petite
frame, there was no doubt she owned the room.

“Good afternoon, ladies, Mrs. Morris,” said Shaw.

The women didn’t answer. Except for June, they spread around
the room, taking seating positions as if waiting for a show to start. Shaw
sensed his presence would be a supporting role to the star attraction... Mrs.
Morris.

“Well, it’s a good afternoon for you after redeeming
yourself with that news interview of yours. Failing that, you’d be attending a
lynching,” said June.” Shaw noticed some of the women nodding. “And why is
Frank wearing his uniform on the Sabbath, when it’s his day off? You should be
ashamed with all the hours he’s worked.”

“Amen to that,” one of the women said, and they all nodded.

Shaw’s cheeks flamed. Frank stepped forward.

“I’m just keeping him company, that’s all,” Frank said. “His
daughter’s in LA so he’s at a loose end. He’s come to help me feed and water
the livestock, and then we’re going horse riding. Now come here.”

Frank gave her a peck on the cheek, and a squeeze with his
arm around her waist. Shaw couldn’t remember any mention of horse riding and
feeding livestock. The only horse he’d ever ridden was a rocking horse as a
child.

“Ah, well, that’s okay then.” Mrs. Morris said. Her stern
demeanor softened. “Just be sure you both wash your hands,” she said, and
smiled at Shaw. “There’s lemon juice on the kitchen table.”

“Have you mixed it with mains water to make the juice?”
Frank asked

“Yes, why?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Frank screwed his face, and signaled for Shaw to follow.

In the kitchen, Frank ladled out two bowls of stew. He took
out a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

“She knows I won’t drink the mains water, even with the
filter attached. Only had it connected a few months ago. It tastes vile.”

“What did you do for water before that?”

“Hand pumped spring water out of a well that Pa sank, but
it’s almost dried out. It’s down to a trickle. I only use it for the animals
now. It had a sweet taste to it. Fresh as a daisy it was.”

They made their way through to living area and out onto the
porch. Frank set down the bowls on a table and Shaw followed with the bread.
Frank closed the door.

“Don’t want them listening in to our chat. Listen, Brett,
sorry about the welcoming committee, but June speaks her mind. I’m used to it
after thirty-seven years.”

“Forget it. How come the women haven’t removed their shoes?”

“You noticed then. They’re not subject to training like me.
Besides, they’ve come here straight after church, and in Junes mind, she’ll
consider the shoes cleansed.”

Shaw now understood why Frank loved the solitude of trekking
and hunting in the mountains. There again, he couldn’t blame her for giving him
a tongue-lashing. Not after the hours Frank had put in these past few days.

“What’s all this about horse riding? It was a white lie,
right?”

“No, I think it’s a good idea. Time you relaxed. Besides,
what would you do on your own back at your apartment?”

Shaw knew he was right. His head was so full of potential
scenarios for what had happened, he realized he needed to give his gray matter
a rest. There was not much he could do until forensics reported back to him. He
tucked into his bowl of stew as Frank poured out the water from the bottle.

“Hmm, that’s really good,” Shaw said, and licked his lips.
Frank snickered. “What’s funny?”

“Just thinking, if I hadn’t gone back to Hogan’s and paid
for the meat, you’d be an accessory after the fact by eating the evidence.”

Shaw choked on another mouthful of the stew, and reached for
his glass of water. He took a sip and set the glass down.

“Talking about water, I was thinking about the tank the prepper
said that they were filling over at the silver mine,” Shaw said.

“What about the tank?”

“It could have been a mistake on his part. They could have
been emptying a sewage tank.”

“It didn’t smell like they were pumping sewage. I should
know. We have a tank here. Listen, I’ve been thinking too. Did you notice the
shortwave transmitter and receiver on the table?”

“Yeah, why?”

“One thing is bugging me. They were quick to get to the
scene to help move the stag. Coincidence... possibly. Or, maybe they listen in
on our frequency. They weren’t in the search party for Johno either. So how
come they knew he’d been found. No one saw them on the mountains during the
search. It’s not as though they ever come into town.”

“The rescue frequency.”

“Right.”

Shaw took another sip of water. So much for relaxing. Frank
had stirred up more scenarios. His cell phone rang. He retrieved his cell, and
smiled when he saw the name on the screen. It was Amy

“Hi, sweetheart. How’s Johno?”

“Oh, Dad, it’s heartbreaking.” Her voice was tearful. “He
came round from his coma a few hours ago, but they’ve had to put him in a
clinical coma. The doctor says his brain has swollen.”

“I’m so sorry. Were you there when he came around?”

“We all were. It was a nightmare. His eyes were bulging with
a look of terror. He screamed and shouted for us all to get away from him. He...
he was calling us monsters and—”

All Shaw could hear was Amy crying.

“Listen, sweetheart, I know it’s difficult, but you need to
keep it together to be able to support Louise.”

“I... I know.”

Where are you now?”

“I’m outside the hospital. I can’t use the cell phone
inside. Listen, tomorrow we’re going to look for a hotel near to the hospital
for Louise and her parents. I’ll stay at Aunt Mary’s tomorrow and I’ll be back
on Tuesday. The doctor says it could be two weeks before they start to bring
him out of his coma. I want to stay, but it’s awkward for the nurses having so
many at his bedside.”

“I understand. Okay. I’ll see you on Tuesday. Tell Louise
and her parents that Johno’s in my thoughts. Phone me if there’s any change.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Amy closed the call. Shaw turned to Frank.

“It’s not looking good for Johno just now. They’ve had to
put him back in a coma. Amy says he was delirious due to his brain swelling
when he awoke.”

Frank sucked air through his teeth, then grimaced. Shaw told
him what Johno had said.

“Poor boy. Maybe he wasn’t delirious. It could’ve been a
flashback to what happened at the cliff.”

“One thing’s a fact. Until they bring him out of his coma,
we won’t know what happened out there on the mountains.”

MONDAY
morning, Shaw awoke to his alarm sounding on the
nightstand. He reached over and switched it off. Apart from an aching backside,
he felt good and his head was clear. Four hours in the saddle on Sunday had done
its damage. His mind picked-up on his thoughts on the death of the vet from his
deliberations the night before. It was like old times in homicide. His
addiction to resolve the case had negated his need for hitting the bottle. It’s
what he used to live for. Now that feeling was back. He took a shower and
dressed, eager to get to his office. His mind was honed on the order of his
day. Phone calls to make. Interviews to arrange. He realized it was time to
start pulling the threads of his investigation together. There were too many
coincidences. Too many not to follow them to a conclusion.

Gyp was waiting behind the door to the living area. He sat
with his tail wagging, and clutching a rag in his mouth he’d brought back from
his wondering yesterday. Shaw battled with Gyp to remove the rag.

“Give it up will ya,” he said.

He wrestled it free from Gyp’s jaw and tossed in the
wastebasket. His sense of smell was assaulted by the odor of Gyp in the room.
Hosing him down the night before had made it noticeable. He guessed living with
Gyp, he got used to the everyday smell and it was only noticeable by others.
Gyp bounded toward the wastebasket and retrieved the rag as Shaw opened the
door to the stairway landing. He decided against playing games and walked down
to his office with Gyp following. He sat at his chair. Gyp sidled up alongside,
resting his jaw on Shaw’s leg, still holding the rag and wagging his tail.

“Good, boy.”

Holding out his hand, Gyp offered-up the rag to him. He took
the rag, and standing, Shaw then made his way to the outside door, stepping
outside. Gyp followed, nudging Shaw’s leg with his nose. Shaw quickly stepped
inside, closing the door with Gyp on the outside. Today was no time for playing
games. He walked back to his office, and put the rag in the wastebasket.

Shaw made coffee and then sat. He drummed his fingers on the
surface of his desk. Clasping his fingers together, he stretched out his arms,
his palms facing outward, and cracked his knuckle joints. He picked up his pen
and wrote a list in the order of the calls he had to make. The one at the end
of the list, he drew a line through, and then wrote the name Ted at the top of
his list.

Shaw picked up the handset, opened his phone number pad and
pressed the number sequence for his first call.

“Security.”

“Hi, I called on Saturday. Sheriff Shaw.”

“I remember, what can I do for you?”

“You said the administrator would be in today. I need to
speak with them.”

“Sure, she’s arrived. I’ll put you through.”

“No, wait. Can you tell her I’m genuine and you’ve seen my
ID?”

There was a pause.

“Listen, I’ve found your ID copies. Can you read out your
driving license number? It’s not like I can see you.”

Shaw pulled his wallet from his pants pocket, retrieved his
license, then gave him the number.

“Hold, I’ll put you through. He took out a photograph of Ted
and Amy from his wallet, put the call on speaker, and walked over to the
computer printer. He masked the image of Amy, then pressed the digitize
function.

“Hello, Margret Wells. How can I help you, Sheriff?”

“Hi, I called the other day making enquiries about one of
your ex-students. Trouble is, there was some kind of error and the picture you
have in your database doesn’t match the person I know. His name is Ted Carter,
sorry, Edward Carter.

“Wait, I’ll look it up.”

Shaw walked back to his desk, sat and took a sip of his
coffee. He noticed something different. His fingers weren’t trembling.

“Sheriff, that’s Edward Carter for sure. He was a well-liked
student. Tragic really. Are you sure that you have the correct name?”

“Tragic?”

“Yes, as soon as I saw the picture, I remembered. It was in
the news. He died of a heart attack just after graduating.”

Shaw pushed his back into his chair, and looked at the
ceiling. He leaned forward, picked up the handset and switched off the speaker.

“Sheriff, are you there?”

“Yes... Yes. Look, I may have got the name wrong. Can you
give me your e-mail address and I‘ll send you an image? You may recognize him.
It would be from the same graduation year.”

The administrator gave him the address. Shaw put her on
hold. Shaw’s fingers fumbled while typing out the e-mail, getting it right at
his third attempt. He attached the image file, pressed send, then released the
hold on the call.

“Okay, I’ve sent the e-mail. I’ll hold until you get back to
me.”

“I’ll let you know when it arrives. But really, we have so
many students I may not be able to help. I only started here the year before
either would have left. Speak soon.”

He waited, wondering if he had the wrong school. Shaw
loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt collar.

“I have it now, just opening the attachment. Oh my Lord,
it’s Stewart Harvey. He’s not changed much. Still has that impish grin. He was
the final year’s practical joker. Brilliant mind. Especially with computer
sciences. Thinking about it, he was Ted’s best friend.”

Shaw’s mind numbed.

“Do you have an address?”

“Well I do, but as I recall, he went abroad with his parents
instead of university, so it won’t be much use. I have his date of birth if
that will help.”

“Fine, just give me that.” Shaw noted his date of birth. “If
there’s anything else, I’ll call you back. Thanks for your assistance.”

“No problem.”

Shaw placed the handset in the cradle. A hot flush engulfed
him, and his mind raced. No wonder he didn’t have a criminal record. Ted Carter
was dead. So who was this Stewart Harvey masquerading as Ted? His skin crawled
at the thought that he was seeing Amy. Worse still, they had probably shared a
bed together. Only people with something to hide change names, he thought. Shaw
stood, picked up his telephone note pad and launched it across the room. It was
time to find out just who the Stewart Harvey was, and what game he was playing
with his daughter.