Dead Even (24 page)

Mike wanted to scream at the man that his son was probably dead, burned up in a fire twenty years ago. And if Bobby Kramer
had
been the boy to perish in that fire, where the hell was Isaac Simpson?

Chapter TWENTY-TWO

The overpass was perfect for sledding. To the south, the incline was a little less steep for the younger children, and further to the north the deep slopes made ideal sledding for the more adventurous. Audra and Jason were sticking to the south section. It seemed plenty steep for them.

Audra watched as Jason trudged back up the hill, dragging the old red sled behind him. So far, he hadn't been able to make it all the way down the hill. His slight body wasn't heavy enough to propel the sled over one straight spot, on down and around the bend. She had tried riding with him, but it wasn't the same. He wanted to make it on his own.

“Let me use the wax paper again, Miss Delaney,” he said as he finally reached her. “Maybe that will help.”

Audra ripped off a piece and watched as he turned the sled over and carefully ran the paper back and forth over the runners. “We just need something to weight you down a little,” she said. “I'm sure you could make it then.”

“Wait a minute,” Jason jumped up and headed for Bess's car. “My bookbag! It's waterproof, and I can put my arms through the straps and carry it on my back.”

Audra grinned at his enthusiasm. “Might work. Won't hurt to try.”

Jason strapped the bag on his back, then flopped down on the sled. He pushed off and went zipping down the hill. Audra held her breath as he hit the flattened area. This time, the sled did not grind to a stop, but sped along to the next drop. Jason flew out of sight as he rounded the slight bend near the bottom, where the view was obstructed by a line of evergreen trees. “Way to go, Jason!” she yelled, as his head appeared.

“I did it!” Jason yelled at her. “All the way down!”

She watched as he struggled back up the hill with the sled and the extra weight of the books. When he reached her, he sat down on his sled, breathing hard. “Man, that was fun!”

Audra pulled her sled over next to his. “That's about it for me. I don't think my legs will carry me up that hill one more time.” She glanced up at the darkening sky. “Besides, we're just about out of light. Are you ready to go?”

Jason jumped up. “Just one more time. Please?”

“Are you sure you have the energy to climb that hill again?”

“I'm sure,” he answered her.

Audra nodded. “All right, then, hotshot. Let's see you make it all the way to the bottom again.”

Jason adjusted his book bag, lay down on his sled, and pushed off. Audra watched as he made it once more to the second hill, and sped out of sight around the bend.

“Great, Jason. That was perfect,” she yelled. Her words seemed to echo back at her in the silence. “Jason? Are you all right?” She waited, uneasy, for his head to appear.

“Jason!” Audra screamed. “Answer me!”

There was still no sound or movement from the bottom of the hill. Audra quickly pulled her sled to the edge and started down.
Oh, God. Don't let him be hurt.

As she rounded the bend she could see Jason's body crumpled in the snow, unmoving. Too late, she saw a figure move out of the trees toward her. She threw herself off the sled but the man in the face mask was too fast for her. Before she could regain her footing, he was on her, pressing a rag over her face. She remembered the smell.

“Jason! Run!” she managed to scream, but even as the words left her mouth she knew it was too late.

*   *   *

Underwood could feel Mike's rising anxiety. The man looked ready to literally jump out of his skin. He rose quickly, shook Kramer's hand, and ushered the men out the door.

“I know what you're thinking, Mike,” he said as they walked toward his car. “But Howard Simpson identified Isaac's body himself. He refused to leave the scene, even though he was badly burned. The paramedics kept him stable until we were able to retrieve the bodies. I was right there. The man went to pieces. He moved back and forth between his wife's body and Isaac's, crying and holding them. It absolutely could
not
have been an act.”

“But you told us yourself that the bodies were badly burned. Were their facial features still recognizable?”

“No,” Underwood shook his head. “They weren't. He made the ID through their jewelry and what there was left of the clothing. In the boy's case, Simpson had given him a solid gold chain only a few weeks previous. I remember Simpson digging at the charred ruins and finding that chain. Then he just sat there holding that boy's body, swaying back and forth and moaning. It was the saddest thing I ever saw.”

“Was his identification the only one that was used? Did you make dental comparisons or anything?”

“On the wife, yes, and they were a match. The boy didn't have any. Seems he threw such a fit every time they scheduled him for an appointment, they just gave up on him. He was a headstrong youngster, used to getting his own way.”

Mike knew in the pit of his stomach that it was the Kramer boy that had died in that fire. “Hold on just a minute. Let me go ask the Kramers one last question.” He hurried back up the walk.

When Orrin and Alma opened the door, Mike managed a smile. “I was just wondering—you wouldn't happen to remember if Bobby ever wore that gold chain that Isaac had, would you?”

Alma nodded. “Right proud of it he was, too. Seems Isaac didn't have his daddy's love of jewelry, so he let Bobby wear it whenever his old man wasn't around.”

“That son of a bitch was solid gold, too,” Orrin added. “Weren't nothing cheap about that Howard Simpson. That's why we never said much when Bobby took up so with Isaac. He might have been a mean little bastard, but he always shared what he had with our kid.”

If you only knew!
Mike thought as he raced for the car.

*   *   *

Harry Windslow finished packing his belongings in the trunk of the police car, rearranging to make room for the last suitcase. He then went back inside and looked around at the small furnished apartment he had rented since coming to Hays. He would be glad to be rid of it. The condominium he had left behind in Denver was more to his liking, much more his style.

That was the great thing about a big city, a person could have a whole life that no one knew about. And he had been clever. He used his sister's address in Golden as his official place of residence. For a monthly stipend, she covered for him, and it made a good story. “Hell, yes, I live with my sis. Can't afford anything else on a cop's salary.”

But in a town where the population hovered around twenty thousand, there was no chance at a double life. Papa Joe had been insistent on that score. “Keep a low profile, Harry. It's only for a few months, a year tops. Then I'll set you up in Kansas City or St. Louis. You're my main man, you know. I'll always take care of you.”

Harry went over and removed a large framed picture of the Madonna from his wall. He turned it over and loosened the masking tape covering seven bankbooks. Shit. He was set if he didn't do another thing for Papa Joe. He had sold his condominium at a premium price, plus he had been on the Gallinni payroll for twenty years, with big bonuses every time he did them a favor, and he had friggin' well done them lots of favors.

Maybe he should just cut and run. Let that dealer heading this way fend for himself.

No. The Gallinni arm was too long, and too deadly. Pissing off Papa Joe would only sign his own death warrant. Besides, the man had always treated him fair, almost like a son. He couldn't do that to him.

He tossed the bankbooks into his open suitcase. No. He would stick to his plan. He would use the police car to stop their van west of Hays, then he would transfer his belongings and go on with them. He had Bill stationed ten miles up interstate, but they could detour around and miss him, or head back to Denver. Then it was only a matter of getting in touch with Papa Joe and seeing what he had in mind.

He zipped his suitcase closed and stood looking around the apartment. There was only one thing left to do. He had better check back in at the station to see if any more word about Gallinni's men had come down. He didn't want any surprises.

*   *   *

“We need to get to a telephone,” Mike said as he jumped in the car. “The Kramers just told me that their boy often wore Isaac Simpson's gold chain, but without Howard Simpson's knowledge. I'm betting he identified the body, collected the insurance, and then Isaac showed back up, safe and sound.”

“Damnit,” Underwood hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “It just never occurred to me that the body wasn't Isaac's. You have a mother and a twelve-year-old boy who live in a home, and that home burns and you discover the body of a woman and a twelve-year-old boy, you assume they are one and the same. Especially after the father verifies it.”

Mike nodded. “I would have thought the same thing, and I could be all wrong about this. But on the chance I'm right, we need to call our captain and have him put some men on Audra Delaney. Jesus Christ! I told her not to worry! That Simpson was locked up tight, and she should go have a fun day. If it
is
the son, he is still out there somewhere, and Audra could be in a lot of danger.”

Underwood flipped on his siren. “You can call from my office. It's only about five minutes away.”

*   *   *

Markham's office was empty. Harry Windslow moved quickly to the desk and read over the accumulation of papers. Nothing. There was no new word from Denver as far as he could see.

He heard a buzz and looked over at the telephone. Markham had an incoming call on line three. He glanced around, then pushed the button and picked up the receiver.

“Captain Markham's office.”

“I need to speak with the captain,” Mike said without preamble. “Quickly.”

Harry recognized Ramsey's voice. “I'm sorry, but he is out of the building right now,” he said smoothly. “Something I can help you with?”

“Who is this? Harry?” Mike asked.

“Yes. The captain left me in charge while he went downtown to check on something. Is anything wrong?”

“Plenty,” Mike said. “There is a chance the killings were committed by Howard Simpson's son. It is vitally important that Audra Delaney be protected. Get someone to her right away. Check with Bess Truman at the Rock Road Inn. You also need to put someone on Simpson's house, and check to see if he has removed one of the vehicles from the garage. If he has, put out an all points on it.”

Harry smiled to himself. “Don't you worry about a thing, Mike. I'll get some men on it right now, then track down Markham and give him the news.”

Mike breathed a long sigh of relief. Windslow might have it in for him for one reason or another, but he would certainly act on the information. It never entered his mind to question that basic assumption. “Thanks Harry. We're leaving for the airport now. Tell Markham we'll be there as soon as we can.”

“Will do,” Windslow answered. He replaced the phone and walked out of the police station without a backward glance.

Chapter TWENTY-THREE

It took Isaac almost thirty minutes to get the woman and the boy down the incline and into the van waiting by the highway. Panting heavily from his exertion, he leaned against the door to catch his breath.

He had used the chloroform again, just to be on the safe side. All that was left was binding them. Normally he didn't bother with tying his victims' hands and feet—the rope around the neck had always been sufficient—but with the two of them, there wasn't any sense taking chances.

He entered the van and picked up the coil of rope from the passenger seat. His eyes went lazily over the two forms unconscious in the rear. A little chill of anticipation coursed through his body.

What would she be like this time? Would he be able to frighten her into submission as he had done before?

He gazed at the rosy cheeks of the boy. He pictured the small face crying, twisted in terror, begging him to stop. He had never tried to grab a child. Kids were too damn smart nowadays; the risk was too great. When a college girl was late getting back, no one seemed to think much about it. He was usually long gone from the city before the police were ever even called in. Not so with a kid.

Isaac took a large hunting knife from its sheath and cut the rope into four pieces. Stooping over, he entered the rear of the van and quickly bound the woman's hands and feet, then looped the rope through a metal base bolted to the floor. When he had removed the seats from the back of the van, he had rightly guessed he could make use of one of the sturdy bases, and had left it intact. It suited his purpose perfectly.

He ran his hand over Audra's pale face, brushing matted hair back from her damp forehead. She was still a beauty. He leaned down close to her neck and breathed in her scent. He wanted her. He wanted to see her lying naked beside him, and standing naked in the moonlight. He wanted it all, just like it was before.

Isaac forced himself to move to the boy. He wrapped the rope around his ankles, made three knots, then brought the boys hands together. He noticed the backpack, and slipped it from the boys shoulders, then bound his hands together in front. He crouched over the small boy, wondering how long it would take him to die. And wasn't it delightful that the woman who had tricked him would have to watch?

With a deep groan of anticipation, he picked up a blanket, flaring it out in the gutted van. It drifted down, covering his victims. He returned to the front seat and started the motor.

*   *   *

Although they were operating on only two hours sleep from the night before, neither Mike nor Butch were noticing the effects. They could both feel the surge of adrenalin as they willed the plane to go faster.