A Shadow Fell Page 11

  “Please,” Callie interrupted, “don’t refer to that bastard as my father.”

  Colletti nodded. “Sorry. That he might be able to find Henderson. Edgerton was a highly decorated Vietnam soldier with a great talent for tracking enemy soldiers through hostile territory. Does this mean anything to you – give you any thoughts about why Jack would hook up with him?”

  Callie thought about it for a few moments. “The only thing I can think of is that maybe Jack figured Reuben had headed back into the mountains and was using Edgerton to find him.”

  “That’s pretty much what we’ve been thinking,” Blackmore said. “But the question, of course, is where?”

  “Has anyone been back to the cabin Reuben was raised in?” Callie asked. “Maybe Jack had some reason to believe he would go back there.”

  “We thought of that. But the cabin doesn’t even exist anymore and Jack knew that.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Callie said, suddenly remembering Jack’s conversation with Tom Kilborn.

  “Well,” Blackmore said, “I think we’ve accomplished about all we’re going to here today. If anything else comes to mind call us.” He placed a card on the table next to Callie.

  When they were gone Callie sat morosely on the sofa while tears formed a trail down her cheeks. Miles, who had remained silent throughout the interview, sat down beside her and placed an arm comfortingly around her shoulders. Callie had been severely depressed ever since regaining her memory and things were not improving. He was very concerned about her.

  “What am I going to do, Miles?” Callie whispered. “I don’t think I could take it if Jack has been taken from me too.”

  Miles was ever supportive but, in truth, he was skeptical that things would turn out well after all this time. “Everything’s going to be okay, honey,” he said. “Me and Betty will always be here for you – you know that.”

  She gave his hand a squeeze. “What would I have done if I didn’t have you guys.” She wiped her eyes with a Kleenex. “But where could Jack have gone?”

  “I dunno know, darlin’. But I was thinkin’, just because that cabin’s gone don’t mean Reuben didn’t go back there.”

  “You really think he might have?”

  They talked things through for some time. The likelihood of Jack deducing that Reuben might return to the one location that held such meaning for him throughout his life was strong in Miles’ opinion.

  “The more I think about it,” Callie said, “the more I’m inclined to agree with you. But what do we do?”

  “I wish I was a little younger,” Miles said. “I’d go up there myself. But I don’t think I’m up to it, darlin’.”

  “Of course you’re not,” Callie said.

  “Why don’t you call Tom Kilborn and tell him how you feel? Maybe he’ll see it the same way we do and send some people up there to have a look around.”

  Callie tried to find reasons why this was not a good idea but, to her, it seemed sensible. “It can’t hurt to try,” she said.

  Miles dialed Tom’s number and handed Callie the phone. Being Jack’s wife got her through with a minimum of delay.

  “Tom,” Callie said. “I need your help.”

  “Anything I can do, Callie. You only need to ask.”

  “I want you to check out the site of Reuben’s cabin in Virginia. I think that may be where Jack went.”

  There was a pause for several seconds during which Callie could almost hear the wheels turning in Tom’s mind. Finally he spoke. “I really don’t think it’s going to prove out, Callie. But I’m damned if I’ve got a better idea either. I’ll have agents up there by helicopter within twenty-four hours.”

  Callie breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Thank you, Tom. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

  “I just hope we get something meaningful from it,” he said.

  41

  Agents Harvey Blackmore and Vincent Colletti peered keenly out the Bell Jet Ranger as it zeroed in on the site of Reuben Henderson’s childhood home. From the air the burnt timbers of the cabin could just barely be seen; the open field behind the site now appeared perfectly benign. Neither agent had been to the location before so hadn’t experienced the potent atmosphere of evil that so many others before them had reported.

  The pilot put the chopper down in the center of the field and cut the engine, the rotors slowly dying while the three men unclasped their seatbelts. Blackmore leaned forward and put his hand on the pilot’s shoulder. “Sit tight for a few minutes, Mike – give us a chance to have a quick look around first.” The pilot nodded his understanding.

  Once on the ground Blackmore and Colletti walked the field. Their cursory inspection revealed nothing out of the ordinary, prompting them to move their inspection to the cabin site. As they stood looking over the charred timbers Blackmore removed his sunglasses and used the back of his hand to wipe perspiration from his forehead. “Anything here that looks unusual to you, Vince?”

  Colletti sucked his teeth and looked at his partner who resembled him enough to be his brother. “Did you really think we were going to find anything up here besides mosquitoes and pine needles?”

  Blackmore shook his head in a world weary way. “Not really, no. But as long as we’re here let’s have a good look around. Kilborn expects nothing short of a microscopic examination.”

  They went in different directions, studying the ground. After a few minutes Colletti called out, “Harv. Over here.”

  Blackmore joined his partner. “What have you got?”

  Colletti pointed at a crude fire pit, then knelt beside it. “I’m no boy scout but I’d say this has been used fairly recently. Look at the ash residue. It’s obviously not that old.”

  Blackmore crouched down and took some of the ash in his fingers, lightly rubbing it. “You’re right. I also saw what looks like it’s probably dog doo over there. So… somebody’s been up here. But who?”

  “I think we have to assume there’s at least a possibility it was Jack,” Colletti mused.

  Blackmore looked deep in thought. “We flew up the same route we would have taken if we were hiking, right?”

  “Yeah, pretty close I think.”

  “Okay. And we didn’t see any sign of anybody on the way. So if Jack and this wacko neighbor of his have picked up a trail and are actually tracking Henderson they’ve taken a different direction away from here.”

  Colletti nodded in agreement. “Stands to reason.”

  Blackmore stood, slapping his hands together to rid them of the ash. “We’ll do a wide area search from the air and see if we can spot any sign of them.”

  “They’ve been gone for a month,” Colletti pointed out. “You really think we’re going to find them alive?”

  Blackmore pursed his lips. “I’d like to think so, Vince. But I doubt it’s very likely.”

  42

  Two hours into the search, circling in an ever-widening pattern, the chopper pilot signaled that fuel was getting low. Blackmore nodded and touched his forehead, then the back of his shoulder – his sign language for ‘head back.’

  As the bird went into a sharp tilt to change direction Colletti continued to scour the ground with binoculars. Suddenly his attention was caught by something. He nudged Blackmore, pointing at an area on the chopper’s port side, in the direction of the turn.

  Blackmore leaned across in front of Colletti and trained his own glasses on the area for several long seconds. At first he was inclined to dismiss the sighting of something that looked man-made as nothing more than a natural, if somewhat unusual, confluence of rocks. But further scrutiny indicated it might, indeed, be something worth checking out.

  “Mike,” Blackmore said loudly tapping the pilot on the shoulder and pointing at the small clearing that held their interest, “can you land there?”

  The pilot gave the area a quick scan, then shook his head. “Sorry, sir. Not enough clearance.”

  Blackmore sighed with frustration. “Okay. Make n
ote of our coordinates.”

  * * *

  Back in Richmond the two agents met with Tom Kilborn to review their findings. “So,” Kilborn said sitting back and studying his protégés, “was the trip informative?”

  Blackmore, the slightly senior of the two, was generally acknowledged as the spokesman when circumstances required one. “Hard to say for certain, Tom. There was evidence of occupation by someone, we know that much for sure. As to whether it was Jack and Edgerton, that’s another question.”

  “Any indication there might have been a struggle or confrontation of any sort?”

  “Not really, no.”

  Kilborn’s frustration was apparent. “Another goddamn good idea goes bad. Shit.”

  “There was one thing,” Colletti offered. “Maybe not something decisive, but something we would have liked to check out if fuel levels had allowed.”

  Kilborn leaned forward, putting his hands together on his desk. “Oh?”

  “As we were terminating our aerial search,” Blackmore took over, “Vince noticed something that could have been another campsite. Not more than a short hike from Henderson’s original cabin. Possibly worth having a look at we think.”

  Kilborn sat back, assuming a contemplative pose. “I’m going to have to get approval from the AD to get another chopper up there. You guys sure you want to put me in the position of pissing the man off if it turns out to be nothing?”

  Blackmore and Colletti looked at one another uncertainly. Blackmore then turned to Kilborn. “It’s a crapshoot, boss. Might turn out to be a total waste of time, not to mention taxpayers money.”

  Kilborn leveled a disgusted look at his men. “Thanks for making my job so easy, fellas.” He turned and looked out his office window for a few seconds, then turned back. “Get out of here and let me think about it.”

  43

  The next morning, while he was studying an operations report, the phone on Blackmore’s desk at the FBI office in Tampa rang. He picked up the receiver and brought the phone to his ear in one fluid movement that required no thought. “Special Agent Harvey Blackmore.”

  “Agent Blackmore, this is Callie Parmenter.”

  Blackmore put the report aside and gave his full attention to the caller. “Mrs. Parmenter,” he said, “I was just about to call you.”

  “Did you find anything in Virginia?”

  “I’m afraid not, ma’am. There was some evidence that the area had been visited fairly recently but we were unable to determine by whom. There were no signs of unusual activity, nothing suspicious that we could see.”

  Callie’s disappointment was palpable. She sighed heavily. “I was so sure you might discover something up there.”

  Blackmore knew that what he was about to say was against Bureau protocol but he had seldom felt more empathy for a victim. “Mrs. Parmenter, as we were leaving the area we did spot what looked like it may have been another campsite located quite near Henderson’s original cabin. We would have liked to investigate it but we were running low on fuel and had to abandon the search.”

  “Then you’ll go back and check it out?”

  Blackmore hesitated. “Well, ma’am, as much as I’d like to I’m afraid we don’t really have sufficient justification for the financial---”

  “Agent Blackmore, you’re telling me it costs too much to find my husband?”

  Blackmore lowered his voice. “Look, Mrs. Parmenter, I know you’re acquainted with Special Agent in Charge Tom Kilborn. You need to have a talk with him. But….well, try to do it in such a way that Agent Colletti and myself are not---”

  “I think I understand, agent.”

  “Okay. Good luck, ma’am.”

  Blackmore filled Colletti in on the gist of the conversation he had just concluded and went back to reading his report. Fifteen minutes later Kilborn showed up at Blackmore’s desk. “Okay,” he said without preamble, “we’ve got the go-ahead for another look up in Virginia. Get going.”

  Whatever it was that brought about the precipitous decision to return to the mountains was never divulged.

  * * *

  The field behind Henderson’s original cabin was the closest landing site to the area they wanted to explore. Knowing this they had come prepared for a hike through the woods. The chopper pilot was advised to stay with the craft. He waved the two agents off with a “ Good luck, gentlemen.”

  Finding the campsite from the ground was not as easy as they had hoped. Everything was made to look much easier than the reality from the vantage point of altitude. What had taken Jack and Con Edgerton twenty minutes took agents Blackmore and Colletti over an hour.

  When they did finally arrive at their destination their first sense was one of disappointment. An abandoned campsite totally devoid of any unusual activity.

  “Shit,” Blackmore muttered. “Kilborn is going to eat us for lunch.”

  Colletti, the more detail oriented of the two, was always less inclined to dismiss a scene at first glance. He took his time inspecting, examining, and scrutinizing every detail of a location. Blackmore was more the ‘big picture’ guy. They worked well together, usually without the need to communicate what they were doing. Their acceptance of, and reliance on, one another’s talents was a large part of what made them an effective team.

  While Blackmore scoured the surrounding area Colletti concentrated on the encampment itself.

  It didn’t take long to find evidence of criminal action. Blackmore found a grave.

  A big one.

  44

  By the time a forensics team arrived at the crime scene Blackmore and Colletti had found plenty of other interesting bits and pieces. Rifle shell casings and blood spatter among them. Even before the grave was unearthed, that mayhem had occurred here was irrefutable.

  Blackmore and Colletti stood close by, watching as the contents of the grave were extricated: a canvas tent which, when removed, revealed little more than a large quantity of grey ash.

  The forensic tech in charge of the crew, Tannis Fuller, looked up from her crouched position at the two agents. “My guess is this is what’s left of a human body,” she said. “Based on the quantity of ash, very possibly more than one.”

  “I’m amazed whoever was responsible for this even bothered to bury it,” Colletti said.

  Blackmore shook his head unhappily. “You think there’s enough here to get a DNA sample, Tannis?”

  “The killer went to a lot of work to eliminate all traces of these bodies,” she responded. “Doused in gasoline and re-incinerated a number of times it looks like for the skeletons to be disintegrated the way they’ve been. Had to be intense heat. But we may be in luck.” She held up a cylindrically-shaped whitish object. “This looks like a piece of a thigh bone unless I miss my guess. My people have also accumulated quite an impressive quantity of additional evidence – in addition to what you fellows found before we got here. I think we should be able to put together a pretty good scenario as to what happened here, and to whom. By the way, did Parmenter have a dog?”

  “Yeah, he did,” Blackmore answered. “A Golden Retriever.”

  Fuller nodded knowingly. “We found him buried over there,” she said pointing.

  “Very strange,” Blackmore muttered. “Well, we’ll leave this mess in your capable hands. Vince and I are going to take off. We’ll be awaiting your report.”

  Fuller nodded. “It’s number one priority, guys. I’ll call you.”

  * * *

  In Tampa, Blackmore and Colletti met again with Tom Kilborn. “Well, boys,” Kilborn said, “the excrement has definitely been in contact with the windmill. What’s your preliminary assessment?”

  Blackmore tilted his head, holding out both hands like waiting to catch a basketball. “The inference is pretty obvious, Tom. Parmenter and Edgerton are toast. Henderson remains at large.”

  Kilborn had a skeptical look on his face. “I’ll grant you it’s the most credible scenario. But why the hell would Henderson go to all the trouble of i
ncinerating the bodies like that. What possible purpose would it serve him?”

  “Vince and I have talked it over a lot. The best we can come up with is Henderson wanted to be able to return to his original cabin site whenever the urge struck him. By getting rid of all evidence that Parmenter and Edgerton were ever there he hoped to leave that prospect open. He knew that once we ascertained he’d been there he’d have to get out of the area and would never be able to come back.”

  Kilborn took a moment to digest what Blackmore had proffered. “Okay, I guess I can buy that. Let’s hope the crime scene techs can at least confirm the identity of the bodies.”

  “We’re meeting with Tannis Fuller in two days. She promised she’d have something for us by then.”

  Kilborn nodded. “Good. Okay. Meanwhile, we’ve got air and ground searches covering that fucking mountain. And a very anxious woman waiting to find out whether or not she’s a widow.”

  45

  Tannis Fuller was as good as her word. Two days after Blackmore and Colletti met with Tom Kilborn she called to say she had some news.

  The agents met with her at the forensic laboratory in Tampa. “So, good lady,” Blackmore said, “what have you got?”

  “Quite a lot, actually,” Fuller began. “First up we’ve positively identified the fragment of bone we found as that of Conrad Edgerton. We have also confirmed the ashes found were the remains of Edgerton and another individual we have tentatively identified as Jack Parmenter.”

  “Shit,” Blackmore cursed. “I’m not surprised, I was just hoping.”

  “I know,” Fuller commiserated. “There’s no way we can say absolutely the ashes are those of Parmenter but it’s a damn good bet. We found a boot, obviously overlooked by the killer, which we know from DNA inside it, was worn by Parmenter. We have identified a fragment from the matching boot among the incinerated remains. The assumption is pretty obvious. In addition, two bullet fragments were found containing DNA from Parmenter. If that’s not enough, a substantial quantity of blood, consistent with two wounds was found in the ground at the location we believe he was killed. It’s Parmenter’s.”