R.S. Guthrie - Detective Bobby Mac 02 - L O S T (9 page)

“Guessing they don’t happen most places,” I said.

“The Bureau has an excellent Behavioral Science Division,” Amanda said. “The drawings may be able to tell us something.”

“Don’t need any feds to put their snouts in this investigation. Not yet, anyway,” Jax said.

“I understand,” said Amanda. “Feds have access to resources that may not be available here, is all I am suggesting.”

“Here being in a dipshit town, you mean.”

“No. Here being anywhere without access to the resources of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

“Quit pissing across each other’s bow,” I said. “Let’s see what this other drawing looks like. Jax, no one ever found anything like this at the Grant residence, did they?”

Jax shook his head. “Nothing.”

“What about in the father’s possessions?”

“Spence Grant’s belongings? We confiscated a number of personal files. Don’t think they’ve been fully vetted yet.”

“We need to get on that,” I said.

Jax dialed his cell.

~ ~ ~

When we arrived at the Jennings’ home the CSI team had the drawing bagged. I removed it with gloved hands. The detail, like our other drawing, was incredible, and I could not stop staring at the face before me.

“That’s Tilson Wayne.”

~ ~ ~

FBI Field Agent in Charge, Tanner Noon, had waited for a case like this his entire career. Movement up and down the ladder in the Bureau was largely based on the cases an agent worked—and more importantly, the cases
solved
. Being reassigned to the Coeur d’Alene field office just five years out of Quantico should have been the death blow to Noon’s career. It nearly was. Nothing ever happened in the panhandle of Idaho. There hadn’t been a bank robbery in almost seventy years. The best Noon could hope for was a heist at one of the casinos on the reservation.

When the double-homicide was reported in Rocky Gap, Noon’s spine had literally tingled. The town was definitely within his federal jurisdiction, but a homicide—even two of them—did not make a federal case. However, the Grant girl was
missing
. That suggested the possibility of a kidnapping, which was a federal crime. Chief of Police Jax Macaulay had been able to hold off Noon and his agents under the auspices that they didn’t actually
know
young Melissa Grant had been abducted.

Not yet, anyway.

So the FBI didn’t have a play in the case. As soon as they established that Melissa Grant was kidnapped, Noon could step in. He had no idea how long that might take—his orders were clear: maintain the professional relationship with local law enforcement. Which meant respecting the pace of their investigation, as frustrating as that pace might seem to an anxious agent wanting desperately to make a new name for himself.

Then the gods smiled down on Noon. Special Agent Amanda Byrne decided to give the Coeur d’Alene field office a call. Noon had no idea what Byrne was doing this far west and north; she was assigned to the coveted New York office.

“Agent Noon?”

“Yes. How are you, Amanda?”

“Fine, sir. I’m just north of you, in Rocky Gap.”

“Official business?”

“Not exactly, sir.”

“Call me Tanner.”

Noon was hurt. Clearly Byrne didn’t remember him, a fact that perplexed him nearly as much as it stung his pride. They went through Quantico together. That he outranked her was purely technical—a matter of a few extra months on the job. Noon had become an agent right after the academy where Amanda first participated in a certification class for elite marksmen.

“I know you’re aware of the missing girl here,” Amanda said.

“I am.”

“They’re in over their heads up here, sir.”

“Unfortunately it’s more complicated than that.”

“I understand. That’s why I’m calling.”

“Obviously the Bureau would love to assist. We haven’t got jurisdiction over the homicides, however, and so far our help hasn’t been requested.”

“Can I speak off the record?”

“Go ahead,” Noon said.

“There have been two more abductions.”

“Jesus.”

“Jax Macaulay is sitting on the evidence. He obviously wants to solve this thing locally, but in my opinion, sir, that isn’t going to happen.”

“I can’t move until I have something official. You know that. A police report. Something.”

“Give me your fax number,” Amanda said.

Ten minutes after the phone call with Agent Byrne ended, the documents he needed came through on the fax. Police reports detailing the three abductions, including a phone call from the first victim.

Tanner Noon called his superiors in Boise, who then called their superiors in Washington. The official report was a triple kidnapping in Rocky Gap, Idaho. Noon smiled deliciously. His superiors approved three helicopters out of Boise and a hundred field agents from regional and national offices. The contingency would fall under
his
command—it was agency protocol, but to Tanner Noon it was a life raft tossed into the pond he’d been drowning in for the past several years.

The army of agents would be arriving by the next morning and Noon would then storm northward to Rocky Gap. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Jax Macaulay’s face, the arrogant prick. He would decide later whether or not Chief Macaulay would face federal obstruction of justice charges.

~ ~ ~

“You did
what
?” I said when Amanda shared her phone call with the Coeur d’Alene office of the FBI.

“I had to. There wasn’t a choice.”

“It’s you who is so fond of telling me there’s
always
a choice.”

“You’re right. The choice I made was the necessary one. Those girls need every resource available.”

“Didn’t you think talking to me might be a good thing?”

“I knew what you’d say. And I have my duty, just like you. Nothing is getting done here, and it’s my opinion your brother is in over his head.”

“And me, too, is what you didn’t say.”

“I didn’t say it because I don’t believe it. But you aren’t exactly running the investigation here, Bobby.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t want to fight about this. I know how things are with your brother. I think half the reason he called you up here was so that you could watch him solve the case.”

“And save the day,” I said.

“Exactly.”

I knew she was right. Jax
was
in over his head. In fact, had the investigation been mine, I would have conceded that federal resources would only help. If Jax had included the FBI agents in Coeur d’Alene early on he likely could have avoided a jurisdictional pissing contest. As it stood, I was pretty certain we’d have seventy-five FBI agents here by morning and there would not be any question about who was running the show.

It still angered me that Amanda had not given me the respect of knowing what she planned to do before she actually did it.

“Look,” I said. “I understand. Jax needs to prove himself. Always has. To me, to his superiors, to everyone. He’s a good fucking cop, though. He and I both deserved more than an end around.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Seriously. I hope you see my reasoning, though.”

“Next time, talk to me. You need to trust me.”

“I
do
trust you. I just didn’t want to put you in a position where you had to circumvent your brother. This way, it’s on me.”

“Fair enough,” I said.

“How do we tell Jax?”

“I notice now that it’s time to tell Jax, it’s back to ‘we’.”

“Funny.”

“We
both
tell him. I’ll call him and see if he’s at the precinct or at home.”

~ ~ ~

We met Jax at his office. He’d slept there the night before, though he looked as if he had not rested in days. His face was drawn and covered in scraggly growth. There were bags under both bloodshot eyes.

We were both worried about how hard he was going to take the news about Tanner Noon and the swarm of FBI agents that were no doubt already assembling to crush my brother’s hopes to save the town he’d sworn to protect. I would have felt similarly. Sometimes the logic of a decision is still not enough to assuage the wounding of its audacity. It’s human nature; no one wants to be told he’s not good enough for the task.

Least of all, my brother.

Jax sat in stony silence after Amanda described the phone call to him. Honestly, I’d never seen him react this way. His face was a natural color of pink, not red. His breathing was regular. He stared down some benign thought.

“How many?” is all he said.

“A hundred agents. Three choppers,” Amanda said.

“The air support and the extra bodies will be a huge help,” Jax said.

“A dozen of the agents have training in rough terrain tracking. Another two dozen are experts in kidnappings, abductions, whatever. Point is they will be bringing a lot of talent to bear on this situation.”

“I get it,” he said.

“Look, Jax…” I said, but he stifled me with a palm pressed to the air.

“We’re going to need a better command post,” Jax said.

Amanda looked at me and I nodded.

“They’re bringing their own,” she said.

“Of course they are.”

THE SHEER show of FBI force was impressive. I’d seen it a few times before in Denver, and though most local cops would never admit it, the feds really did have all the resources and when they mobilized, it was worth stopping to stare. Blue jackets with
FBI
emblazoned brashly across the middle of the back in stark yellow contrast; two large motor homes converted into state of the art command centers, painted pearl black, with opaque, bulletproof windows; three government issued helicopters with three crack pilots.

I only hoped the arsenal would help us get those three girls back. There comes a point when territorial behavior needs to sit down, shut up, and allow common sense to take over. We had three missing eleven-year-old girls and the unspoken concern was that these might not be the last of them. After all, we couldn’t protect every household, every bedroom, and every eleven-year-old girl in the county. Not even the FBI could accomplish that—but with numbers like those, it was a fine start.

“Tanner Noon,” the agent in charge said, introducing himself to the collective of Jax, Amanda, and myself.

“Special Agent Amanda Byrne. We spoke on the phone.”

“You don’t remember me, Agent?”

“Sir?”

“We attended Quantico together. You turned down my advances more times than I care to recount.”

“The bad crew cut,” Amanda said, smiling.

“I was young. Trying to save a buck.”

“Good to see you again, sir.”

“Tanner, please. Introduce me to your friends.”

“Chief Jackson Macaulay,” Jax interjected before Amanda could do it for him. “We’ve spoken also.”

“I recognize the voice,” Noon said, extending five manicured nails and a hand to go with them. “Sorry for the intrusion.”

“Yeah,” Jax said, and shook Noon’s hand as limply as I’d ever seen him.

“You must be the detective from Denver,” he said. He didn’t offer his hand to me. Apparently I was in the wrong pond. Or with the wrong girl. I couldn’t yet decide which.

“Bobby Macaulay. Mac is fine.”

“All right then,” Noon said. “Join me in Command One for a briefing?”

~ ~ ~

If the command vehicles looked impressive from the outside, they were pure technological genius on the interior. Not one inch was underutilized. I had to give the federales credit: this was no vacation home, filled with overpriced creature comforts. They’d flown them in to Lewiston-Nez Pearce County Airport on a C-5 Galaxy transport plane, along with a dozen SUVs and the army of agents that had turned the trailhead into a staging ground the size of two football fields.

Agent Noon had a digitized map up on one of the big screens. Using a special pen on the tabletop computer in front of him, he drew lines on the map that appeared simultaneously on the big screen on the wall.

“As we speak, the choppers are taking off to form a triangle and begin working this entire area in rotating pieces. Strict military sectioning. Once they’ve canvassed the entire area, if unsuccessful, they will repeat until we find something.

“It’s all low altitude searches, with two spotters per bird. If a deer farts down there, we’ll know it.”

I glanced sideways at Amanda. She seemed all ears.

“I’ve got sixty agents divided into teams of a dozen. One tracker per team. That’s five teams, forming a skirmish line and beginning at the southern end of the Coeur d’Alene boundary.

“We’ll be working these woods, mountains, dells, valleys, riverbeds, and every other square inch of this godforsaken wilderness from dawn until dusk. We’re going to find those little girls.”

“Don’t say that to the parents,” Jax said. “Or the media. Don’t you ever tell them we are going to find them. You tell them you’re doing everything you can. That’s it.”

“Easy, Chief. Just an expression. I know how to handle the press.”

“And the families.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘and the families’.”

“Right, yes, the families as well.”

“Where do we fit in all this,” Jax asked.

“You?”

“My department. My brother. Agent Byrne. Do you need a digitized map, Agent?”

“Tanner. I told you all to call me Tanner.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you need a map, Noon? What do you need us doing?”

“I don’t need you doing anything,” Noon said. “What I am directing you to do is remain in town—at the precinct, at the local donut shop, I don’t really give a shit, Chief. Just stay out of the way. Your brother is away from home, and I’m not exactly sure what Agent Byrne is doing up here. As a matter of fact, Amanda, you are more than welcome to assist us up here, in an official capacity, I mean.”

“I’d like that,” she said. “I need to go to town, get my gun, etcetera. Back later in the afternoon?”

“Perfect,” Noon said, and looked at us collectively. “Thank you for taking the time, gentlemen. Please excuse me.”

~ ~ ~

The three of us rode back to the Rocky Gap precinct in silence. I knew why Amanda had agreed to Noon’s offer, or at least I thought I did. I admit I’m not much good handling the green-eyed beast of jealousy. Particularly when the perceived threat comes from one as politically-motivated as Agent Tanner Noon. I had to admit, his plans were flawless and well-conceived. Other than his minor commentary before we left—one that was certainly brought about by my own brother’s callused words—I had no procedural issue with the man.

Which is why I could not stop wondering how a cocksure agent like Noon somehow got himself assigned to the smallest outpost south of the Arctic Circle.

“Are you going to talk to me,” Amanda whispered in my brother’s office while he was out filling his coffee mug.

“Sorry,” I said. “This whole FBI/Noon thing has me a bit perplexed.”

“He’s a good agent,” she said. “But you know why I agreed to go back up there.”

“I do.”

“Then what’s the problem, kind sir?”

“Nothing. He’s a little too sure of himself, that’s it.”

“Everything seemed by the book. And Jax…”

“Jax got what he had coming. I have no truck with that.”

“Good. Say goodbye to your brother for me. I need to get back to the command post. Hopefully we’ll have some good things to talk about tonight.”

“You realize you’re going to be sworn to secrecy the moment you arrive?”

“Yet you have all the keys to my vault.”

When the lady was right, she was right.

~ ~ ~

“Where’s Amanda?” Jax said as he walked back in. “Returned to the fold?”

“Easy.”

“Ah, hell, I knew damn well it was going to shake out like this. I only wanted to get in my parting shots. Can’t exactly punch the guy, now can I?”

“No, probably not,” I said, grinning a little.

It was the first time my brother had made me smile since we were kids. It felt good. Like old times.

“I want to lay out a theory I came up with last night.”

“I take it this has nothing to do with a donut shop?”

“Nothing says we can’t keep following up on leads, right?”

“Give it to me.”

“Annir basically told us where to look, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would he do that? I mean, assuming he didn’t want to be found.”

“His confidence could be as strong as he implied,” I said.

“Maybe. But still, why give yourself away?”

“Look,” I said. “These bad guys in Denver. That was their style. ‘Fuck you. Come and get us’ kind of mentality.”

“Okay. But that was them.”

“True enough. What are you thinking?”

“I’ve been thinking of the exact opposite of where we’re all looking right now.”

“Okay.”

“The search is on in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yep.”

“Maybe the victims are here. In town. Closer than we could imagine.”

“It’s not a bad theory,” I said. “I like it.”

“And it gives us something to do while Wyatt Earp is busy blowing holes in the O.K. corral.”

“I’m with you.”

It made sense. And he was right about it giving us something to do. Not only was Noon looking for a gunfight up in the forest, I figured he also had designs on my woman. More than anything I needed something to occupy the brain.

~ ~ ~

We couldn’t exactly go door to door. So Jax wanted to start in the least likely places first.

“Jennings or Porter residence,” he asked.

“What about the Grants?”

“Less obvious than the Coeur d’Alene, more obvious than homes with parents still living in them.”

“Flip a coin,” I said.

“Nah, my gut says the Porter residence.”

No destination is far in Rocky Gap. We were at the Porter’s doorstep in less than five minutes. Jax rang the bell. No answer. He rang it again. Two vehicles were parked in the driveway, but still no answer.

He motioned to the side of the house and we walked around to the rear. No sounds, no movement. Nothing. There was a dog crate and a leash lying on the deck, but no barking.

I motioned to the canine paraphernalia and pointed to my ears. People could stay quiet. Dogs, not so much. We both drew our weapons. Jax motioned to me to circle the deck and come from the other side. He waited until I was in place and then we both climbed the stairs closest to the house, keeping our profiles small against the wood siding.

Before we could reach the sliding door, the back wall exploded. Glass, wood, wire, and insulation blew outward in a cloud and a handful of gnarled, blackish shapes, each twice our size, flew past us, running for the far end of the yard. We both leveled our pistols but were too late. The beasts were far too fast and had scaled the back fence and disappeared in less than a second or two.

“Jesus Christ,” Jax breathed. Debris lay all about the grass and there was a jagged hole encompassing more than a third of the back of the house. “What the hell?”

I motioned to the house. There was a small whine coming from within. Deep within. We put our weapons back to the ready and slowly moved to the gaping tear in the Porter’s home. After clearing the entrance, and the first two rooms we entered, Jax pointed to the basement stairs. The whimpering was clearly coming from down below.