Waking the Dead Part 26

"I also did a bit of research yesterday after I was finished with the paint samples. Great work with that match by the way," Kristy said in a poor imitation of Cait's voice. Her eyes went wide then and fluttered as she brought a hand to her chest. "Why thank you, Cait, I thought I did it in record time, too." Her voice dropped an octave again. "You're the best f.u.c.king tech I've ever had, and I'm going to tell Raiker he should double your pay."

Cait fixed her with an unblinking stare. "Number one, I do not talk like a frog with a five pack a day habit, and number two, you're going to need double the salary if you don't stop dropping the F-bomb in every other sentence. Tell me about your research."

"I've cut way back on swearing. Even you have to admit it. Okay," Kristy said hastily, crossing to her purse to dig out a dollar. "It's worth the buck. Steve's constant nagging is starting to get almost as annoying as yours."

Cait stuffed the dollar in her jeans pocket. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Trouble in monogamy," the tech corrected her. She riffled through the folders in the file organizer and selected one before heading back to where she'd left Cait. "One could never confuse that with paradise. Even if he does have the best-looking a.s.s in the northwest. I'm going purely on the laws of probability, there. More's the pity." She switched seamlessly to her original topic of conversation.

"Okay, I ran the rest of the soil samples you brought me after matching the paint samples. Nothing jumped out at me. But there were a few that were at least as close to the sample you brought from Sharper's property. I went down to the NRCS and had a nice talk with one of the guys there. He was pretty cute, sort of beta, but with this totally awesome punk rock thing going on . . ." Catching Cait's eye, she veered back to the subject. "Anyway, he was telling me about the formation of the hot springs in Oregon, and I started thinking about the sediment found in the bags. Maybe we've been focusing on the wrong element in the soil sample."

She had, finally, gotten Cait's undivided attention. "You mean the sulfur?"

"I mean what's missing, I guess. All these springs you were looking at were in and around the forests, right? The samples taken close to hot springs had a much higher sulfur content than our sediment. The one you got from Sharper's property, and various places in the forest were closer. But they had minerals a.s.sociated with plant decomposition and that was barely discernible in our sample."

Kristy's voice grew animated. It often did when she could combine her two loves, science and men. "But Gary and I put our heads together-that's his name, Gary Neller-and looking at the composite we made of our sample, he suggested that the other trace minerals might have come from animal excrement."

Her mind racing, Cait said, "We knew that. But it doesn't help all that much. Even the forest would have scat from the wildlife."

"But not in the concentrated amounts you'd have on, say, a farm. Not that our sediment bore concentrated amounts suggesting manure, but he suggested maybe a place that used to be a working farm. He even suggested maybe sheep had once been raised near there, because of the level of sulfur in the soil." When Cait didn't immediately respond, Kristy lifted a shoulder. "It's an idea, anyway. If you pa.s.s a shepherd up there, you might want to check out his flock."

Cait ignored her tech's euphemism. She'd already come to the conclusion that the main value of the sediment in the bags would be for a comparison sample taken from the UNSUB's property, but she filed the information away. "At least it narrows down places to focus on if I take more samples." Right now, though, she had better leads. Beginning with the two positives and one nearly certain identification on three of the remains. "I'm going to check in with Barnes and Andrews. Fill them in on the data I got from Cross and get updated on their progress up there."

"Not much to do here right now," Kristy agreed. "Just for s.h.i.ts and giggles, I'm going to do some preliminary measurements of these bones." She raised her voice a bit to stem Cait's response. "I'll be careful, I promise. Did it ever occur to you that you could just call all the resorts in the area, get a list of their guests for the last year, and then feed the names into the missing persons database to see which of them have gone missing? I'm betting we could get this guy's name that way."

She had thought that exact thing. And hoped it wouldn't come to that. "I'm going to send out some emails to detectives with missing persons cases in states outside those bordering Oregon." It still surprised her that the UNSUB had ventured so far abroad. The need for traveling greater distances to s.n.a.t.c.h the victim upped his risk. "If the bones dry out sufficiently, we can run our tests and hopefully get the same results faster. Check in later today if you've got anything. And that last dollar you owe me will go on your tab."

She heard the woman mutter in an undertone behind her back, "Thought she missed that one." And smiled as she sat down at the desk in front of the computer. It was never boring working with Kristy.

"Make sure you back up all your work on that thing." Her tech's voice was m.u.f.fled. Her head was stuck in between the shelves as she gathered up equipment. "It quit on me twice when I was typing my notes yesterday. Not sure if it's the software or the computer itself, but you need to be sure the IT guy looks at it when you get back to headquarters."

Cait froze. "What'd you say?"

"You know. What's his name. Calvin. The computer wizard who works for Raiker. He'll have it running right in no time. That man has magic in his fingertips." Her tone went regretful. "I'm sorry to say that I know from personal experience that his magic is reserved only for technical equipment."

She'd stopped listening. Reached for the phone. Then hissed out an impatient breath when she reached Andrews's voice mail. She left her a message regarding the Bentley credit card statement and verification on two of the images found on his scapula. Then she called Barnes. "Any progress on the employees for the Internet access provider?"

Disgust sounded in Barnes's tone. "Lantis refused to hand over the records without a court order. Guess civic duty doesn't mean squat to them. The sheriff is at Judge Grayson's office right now getting a signature on the warrant. I'm hoping the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds have to work all night getting the records together for us. It would serve them right."

"This should have occurred to me before, but you need to call the resorts back and find out who services their computers."

A frown sounded in the deputy's voice. "Lantis, I told you."

"No, I mean who do the resorts call when a computer gets a virus or they get new equipment? Lantis employees might not be the only ones with access to the computers at the motels."

"Huh. Guess I hadn't thought of it. I've had the same computer for seven years and never had a problem with it."

A sense of irony filled her. "You know you've dared the fates just by saying that, right? Take it from me, that's not the case with most computer owners. And as much use as the shared computers would get at the motels, I can guarantee they need regular servicing. Get those names, and we'll add them to the list of employees we eventually get from Lantis."

"I'll do that right away."

She filled him in on the Bentley credit card statement and verification on two of the images found on his scapula while she composed and sent emails to the other detectives on her list with missing persons. New Mexico. Colorado. Nevada. If any of these related to the case, it meant the UNSUB had taken more risks than she had at first believed.

"Three sets of remains identified." She could hear the faint sounds of traffic noises. Barnes was on the road. "We're making progress."

"It's a start. What about the paint? Any hits there?"

"Got an art supply place over in Sisters that sells small cans. 'Course the only records they have are credit card statements, so that's going to take a while. The officer questioned all the employees about a return customer buying that stuff, but seems like it's mostly kids doing stuff for school."

"The UNSUB probably got them online." That's what she would have done. The anonymity would have been appealing. "We can eliminate the aerosols, which should help. But it wouldn't hurt to contact the online companies I gave you to see about getting their client list."

"I'm sure they'll hand that right over," the man muttered.

"How are you coming on talking to the restaurant employees at t.i.to's?"

"About like you'd expect. They barely remember tourists from a couple weeks ago unless they were big tippers. The photos didn't jog any memories."

So there'd be no use showing Bentley's picture around if he turned out to be one of their victims in the lab. If the people hadn't recognized tourists from three and five years ago, they certainly weren't going to recall one who'd been in the area six years previously.

"I'm going to finish a few emails and then I'll head back up there. Continue showing the photos around at the local businesses."

After disconnecting, she finished emailing the detectives and then turned to Kristy, who had laid out the various sizes of calipers and was squatted down eye level with one femur. "I'm going back to McKenzie Bridge."

"I heard."

"The hospital has my cell number, but I also left this number just in case they couldn't reach me."

Kristy looked up, her gaze sober. "If they do, I'll find a way to contact you."

"Thanks." She regarded her friend for a moment. And the diminutive tech was that, she realized. Cait could think of no one else with whom she would have shared details of that scene with her mother, even as carefully edited as the version had been. "And thanks for listening." She made an awkward gesture with her hand. "I mean earlier."

"I know a little bit about relationships with mothers." She gave a thumbs-up sign. "It will work out."

"Yeah." Cait couldn't quite pull off an answering smile. "It'll work out."

She held that thought on the drive to McKenzie Bridge. Tried to believe it. But a positive outcome of the scene with Lydia was difficult to fathom. She'd been demanding and frantic by turn when Cait had had her admitted. Shifted with dizzying speed between the past and present, from awareness of her surroundings to a shrill insistence that they were overseas. It hadn't been difficult to get a psych hold on her.

What had been difficult had been leaving her there. And trying to imagine the next step.

Getting Lydia well again was the first priority. And that was the easy part of the equation. Choosing doctors, discussing treatment options . . . that could be done objectively with a clear outcome in mind.

Repairing the relationship between her and her mother . . . Cait reduced her speed as she went around a curve. That was where things got dicey.

I knew if I left you alone in the house with him more and more when he was in one of his funks that he'd plan things out. Your father came to the right decision.

A decision that had cost Cait, in one way or another, all her life.

The miles whipped by at pace with her thoughts. She cast a look at the sky. Although the pavement was dry, the skies looked like they could open up at any moment. A fitting way to cap off an already s.h.i.tty day. With effort, she pushed aside the personal worries. It helped, always, to have the case to concentrate on. To obsess over something where it might actually do some good.

Her cell rang and she checked the ID. Barnes. "Yeah, Mitch."

"Where you at?"

She took a second to check landmarks to get her bearings. "About four miles out of McKenzie Bridge, give or take."

A pickup went by, tooting its horn. She realized after it had pa.s.sed that the occupants were Kathy and Rick Moses.

There was an unfamiliar note of excitement in the deputy's voice. "I talked to the three resorts. Included the one Bentley had stayed at, because we're guessing he's going to end up involved in this, too, right?" He didn't wait for a response before going on. "Different names were mentioned, but one appeared at the top of everyone's list. Del Barton."

"Del?" The owner of JD's, she recalled. The slight man with the flirtatious smile and overworked wife. "Not Joanie?"

"They say there's nothing he doesn't know about computers. I've got Deputy Sutton with me, and we're out in front of his place now. Going to take him in for questioning."

"We should collect the computers from the resorts and bring them in for an examination. Maybe we'll find evidence of the spyware installation."

"I'll have Gibbs contact you. Maybe the two of you can take care of it."

"Meet you there in a few minutes." Cait dropped the phone in her purse and stepped more firmly on the gas. It shouldn't surprise her that Barton had lied to her about his wife being the computer genius, she thought grimly. Lying was the first resort of those with a guilty conscience.

But she would be slightly surprised to discover he was their UNSUB. She'd have pegged his wife as having more guts than he did.

Which made her even more eager to talk to Joanie Barton than she was to Del.

Cait met the two deputies walking Del out of JD's just as she pulled the rented SUV up to the curb.

"Del agreed to ride down to the station and talk to us," Mitch said blandly.

"Middle of dinner rush," Barton said ruefully, casting a glance back toward the restaurant. "Joanie's having a cow." The slight shadow of nerves in his expression could be due to just that-leaving his wife to manage the restaurant on her own. Certainly he didn't appear to be overly concerned to be headed to the sheriff's office. But there was no real reason for fear yet, she reminded herself. He wasn't in cuffs. This questioning was purely voluntary.

Unless, of course, he'd refused.

"I'm sure Deputy Barnes will have you back as quickly as possible," Cait said, standing aside as the three men headed toward the sheriff cruiser double-parked out front. She spotted Joanie Barton at the front door of the place watching her husband leave, anxiety and anger in her expression.

If Del was relatively calm, his wife wasn't.

"You!" The short dark-haired woman pushed open the front door of the restaurant with a force that sent the screen door bouncing off the opposite wall. "This is all your fault!"

Supremely aware of the onlookers on both sides of the street watching the events unfold with avid interest, Cait kept her voice pleasant. "Joanie."

"I told you nothing good would come of stirring all this up." The shorter woman approached her like a miniature tornado. "From the minute those bones were hauled out of that cave, we've had nothing but trouble in this town. First the tourism went to pot and now you idiots have arrested Del. My Del! As if he could have anything to do with this mess!"

"Del isn't under arrest. He's answering a few questions. We've been asking lots of questions around here for the last day or so."

"He may as well be." The glare in her eyes would have been lethal if it weren't tinged with fear. "What's everyone going to think, him being seen leaving with the deputies like that? That he's a suspect, is what they'll think. What are my kids supposed to do when their friends ask them why their step-dad had to go to the sheriff's office? Do you people ever think of that? Of the innocents who get hurt while you bungle around trying to figure out what the h.e.l.l happened up there in that cave?"

Despite the spike to her temper, Cait kept her voice modulated. "Some would say the people whose bones were dumped in the cave were innocents, too."

"We don't know that." Joanie was gesticulating with both arms. "Maybe they were druggies who got on the wrong side of some gang somewhere. Maybe they got exactly what they deserved, did you ever think of that? And yet law-abiding folks are getting dragged into their mess." There was a sheen to her eyes from impending tears. "Our business is hanging on by a thread, what with the drop in tourism. Now this. It won't matter what we do. The way people talk, it's probably already all over town that Del was taken in by the sheriff. Who's going to want to go to a place that's owned by a suspect in a murder case?"

She didn't lack sympathy for the woman, even if Joanie couldn't see beyond the ramifications to her family. Her business. "As I said, Del should return soon. And he told me that you're the brains behind the Internet cafe, so I'm certain you have a handle on that part of the business, as well."

"You misunderstood," the woman said flatly with a toss of her head. "Not surprising since you and the sheriff's department have screwed up every single other piece of your work. The cafe is Del's baby. I know enough to log people in and out, but he does all the troubleshooting. He's absolutely brilliant with computers. Ask anyone around here."

"We have." Edging away, Cait sent the woman an insincere smile. "They all agree. There's nothing he can't do with a computer."

And that was exactly why the man was headed back to Eugene for questioning at this very minute.

Chapter 19.

It was all over town. He'd had three calls already with the news. Del Barton had been taken in for questioning by the cops.

There had been more, of course. Details factual or exaggerated, he didn't know. He didn't listen carefully past that first part. His heart had stopped beating in his chest at the words. Then had sped up like a runaway locomotive. For a moment he thought he was having a heart attack.

The sheriff's department had Sweetie.

He paced his house, ignoring the next few calls. To think prior to that first call he'd been feeling peaceful. Joyful, even. Still pumped about the plans he'd made with Sweetie-had that just been last night? With a renewed sense of purpose he'd gone to the shed and moved Barb Haines's carca.s.s into the enclosure holding his beloved beetles. Had experienced a feeling of absolute bliss as he'd watched them cover the bones like a hungry ever-moving blanket. He'd raised them by hand, from the larva he'd acquired over the Internet. They never failed to instill a thrill of pride.

But then he'd gotten the first call.

He knew how these things worked. The fact that Del hadn't been cuffed meant he wasn't under arrest. If there had been enough evidence against him, he would have been. This part was preliminary.

But it'd also make it harder. Far harder for Sweetie to get away like they'd talked about. Fear was firing frantic bursts of panic through his veins. But he had to be calm. Had to think. He couldn't afford a mistake this time. It wasn't enough to take Fleming out of the equation. He had to make it clear that Sweetie couldn't possibly be involved with those bones.

And then, midstride, it hit him. The thought was so shocking in its clarity that he paused, certain there was a flaw in it.

But there wasn't. And it was so simple he laughed out loud in sheer delight.

Taking Fleming out of the equation not only removed the brains from the investigation. Killing her while Sweetie was in custody absolved him of all guilt.

He looked out the window. It was nearing dark. Swiftly, he got his pistol. Then, after a moment, also grabbed his shotgun. Extra ammo. All of the callers had given a full account of Fleming standing on the sidewalk engaged in an argument with Joanie. And he knew, because he'd been keeping tabs on her, that she hadn't checked out of the McKenzie Motel. Chances were if she'd been in town she might stay here tonight. If not . . . he headed for the back door. If not, he knew she had a room in Eugene, too. If he couldn't pick her off driving by in her vehicle, it shouldn't be too hard to make some calls. Find out where she was staying and then pay her a visit.

With Fleming dead, their problems were over.

Zach stared at the meager contents of his refrigerator and muttered a curse. The last of the bread had mold on it. He'd emptied the milk carton two days ago. And even he wouldn't eat the lunchmeat that was hard and curled up at the edges. Unless he was willing to dine on sheetrock, he'd have to go to town for something to eat.

And only hunger would have driven him to head for his Trailblazer and start for town. The prospect of a sandwich and beer was too tempting. He wasn't in the mood for company, but he wouldn't say no to a chance to kick some a.s.s in pool.

He was in the mood to kick some a.s.s.

The fact that the a.s.s most in need of kicking was his own just made his mood meaner. He took the gravel faster than he usually did and heard the rapid ping of the rocks as they shot up and sprayed his vehicle. Consciously, he let up on the accelerator. Every time he thought of Andrews's expression when she'd probed about the missions he'd run in the army, he wanted to put his fist through something solid. Like she'd have a clue about scouting surveillance and counterintel. About the kind of men it took and the training it required.