Deadfall (37 page)

“Thank you!” Mac clinched his fists, trying to tone down his excitement but finding the task impossible. “So that's it!” Kevin and Wain probably thought he was nuts. “We've got him.”

“Not so fast, Mac.” Kevin shared his enthusiasm in part. “This test alone would have been good enough for a conviction five years ago, but IBIS will put the last nail in the coffin with a computer analysis.”

“He's right,” Wain said. “But for now, I can tell you without hesitation that these bullets are fired from the same barrel and you have probable cause for arrest—if you know the owner of the gun.”

“We do.” Kevin grinned. “We'll call back later on that IBIS info,Wain. Thanks for the quick work.”

Mac and Kevin all but ran out of the crime lab to the elevator. Mac pressed the lobby button over and over until the door closed and the car began its downward journey.

“Pretty cool, don't you think?” Mac asked.

Kevin shook his head. “Do you always get this revved up?”

Mac's pager vibrated. “It's dispatch. We have an alpha page to call Hood River County. I bet it's that cell phone info.”

“We can give them a call from the car,” Kevin said.

Mac jogged ahead, taking back his place as the driver. Kevin called the sheriff 's office as Mac drove. “I was speaking with a Detective Marty Keels; it was probably her.”

“Yeah, this is Bledsoe with OSP. Dispatch said to call your office. Probably from Detective Keels.”

Mac took some deep calming breaths as he raced back to the patrol office. They were close, thanks to his brilliant plan.
Yeah, but
it would never have happened if that trooper hadn't pulled Troy Wilson
over and brought him in.
The thought sobered Mac. They'd gotten a lucky break. Except Kevin wouldn't have called it luck—he'd have called it an answer to prayer.

Kevin covered the mouthpiece. “Deputy Sam Wyatt's the one who paged you.”

“The original deputy to respond.” Mac nodded.

“Yes, this is Bledsoe.” Kevin listened intently to the information Sam gave him. “You're kidding. You don't say. Tell you what, why don't you and your crew put out a BOLO (be on the lookout) on this guy and try to hook him up.” Kevin jotted something on his pad. “We'll be putting a team together and heading your way.

If you find him at his house and want to hot-pop him for aggravated murder, we have probable cause for the arrest. Okay, thanks.

I'll use this number. You can go through dispatch or we'll go to your radio net when we get close. Thanks, Sam. Be careful.” Kevin slapped the phone shut.

“What was that all about?” Mac gripped the steering wheel.

“Found out who Jaycee is. Jaycee is not his name. It's J. C., his initials. Stands for Jack Clovis. He's a volunteer for the search-and-rescue crew Deputy Wyatt heads up. Lives over in Cascade Locks, east of Bonneville Dam.”

“No kidding. He was out looking for Brad that first day. I saw his rig, but I never saw him. Good thing, or I'd have been dead meat last night.” Mac frowned, remembering the truck he'd seen out at the cabin. It had been too dark to see it clearly. “He ran hounds on the search looking for Brad when he disappeared. I can't believe this. The fox was in the henhouse the whole time.”

“Wyatt's crew is going to the suspect's home in Cascade Locks.”

“So, do you want to head over there? This is our pinch.”

“They'll be there in a few minutes; they know to hold him for us. If he's talking, they'll take notes but won't press him. Besides, you are out of the interview loop with your undercover stunt. He'll be too mad to trust you. I'll have to partner with the sergeant or give this over to Russ and Philly to tag team.”

“Shoot,” Mac muttered. “You're right. I want to be there when they bust this guy.”

“Tell you what. Let's head east to Cascade Locks where Clovis lives and get some troops en route for support.” He read off Clovis's address and the directions from his pad. “I'll have dispatch get Chris Ferroli going and our gorge patrols, maybe even some from The Dalles if they have any patrols out this way.”

Kevin phoned dispatch, asking to have cover started out to the gorge. The radio ripped with activity as different troopers responded. Dana, who had gorge patrol, called in as she took the Cascade Locks exit. She'd get there ahead of them. Mac's chest tightened at the thought of Dana being involved. That annoyed him. She was a trooper just like they were. He shouldn't be that uptight.

Chris was also en route, along with a patrol from The Dalles. They'd all be going to assist the deputies at Clovis's home. Sergeant Evans had responded as well and would be steaming east in the hammer wagon.
The gang's all here,
Mac thought. Except for Russ and Philly, who were in Salem conducting interviews.

Just prior to Bonneville Dam, Kevin's cell phone rang. It was Deputy Wyatt. “Clovis isn't at his residence. They're rerouting to the cabin.”

“Do they know how to get there? We have the directions.” Mac had put Troy's map in the console.

“Says he does. Guess they've used it as a base camp in the past on SAR missions.”

“Helpful son of a gun, isn't he?” Mac handed the directions to Kevin. “This will help.” Troy had created a concise map and had even put in the numbers of the Forest Service roads in the Eagle Creek system.

“I'll let Sarge know. You have the uniforms meet us at the freeway exit. We'll get our vests on there. Then they can follow us to the cabin. Wyatt is heading this way with a couple of deputies, and he has a few more checking some other residences and businesses.”

Mac and Kevin stopped at the eastbound exit to the freeway, briefing Dana and Chris, who arrived about the same time.

Kevin opened the trunk and slipped his heavy raid vest over his shirt and tie. Mac and the others followed suit. The vest was bulky and uncomfortable, but it afforded Mac some degree of assurance.

Though if Clovis wanted to take him out, he'd have no trouble— he could put a bullet into Mac's head with the first shot.

Kevin gave some general directions, and the small caravan started for the cabin. Frank caught up with the group as they left the freeway exit and pulled in behind them as they hit the gravel road.

Mac drove as fast as the gravel road permitted. On the way he noticed dozens of small cabins dotting the hillside on the leased federal forestland. Last night it had been too dark to see much of anything. At the base of Road 16, Mac recognized a large boulder with white paint on the side. “Was Road 16 on the directions?” he asked.

“Yep. It should take us right to the front door.” Kevin released a heavy sigh. Both men slipped out of their seat belts. Mac took the road at a slower pace.

“There it is.” Mac recognized the mossy roof of the cabin as it came into view. Not wanting to alert anyone if they were inside the cabin, Mac pulled up a little farther and off the road, parking just short of the main driveway. The bevy of cars efficiently blocked the driveway.

They gathered behind the vehicles and out of sight. “Kevin and I will take the front,” Mac said. “We've got the heavy vests.” The vest worn under the uniform on patrol was lighter and more pliable, thus not as effective. His and Kevin's were heavy raid vests, similar to the military model soldiers wore. “I need one uniform to go with us and the other to hit the back. Is that okay, Sarge?” Mac sensed he was stealing the sergeant's thunder.

“We could use some more troops,” Frank grumbled, “but we'll make do. A forced assault is authorized only on my say-so. I've got SWAT on standby if this turns into a standoff. Let's see if anyone is home right now.” Sergeant Evans pulled his shotgun from his car and racked a round.

“I'll go to the front with you and Kevin,” Dana volunteered, pulling her Glock . 40 from her duty belt.

Mac wanted to object—to tell her to stay back—but he couldn't, wouldn't do that to her. She was a trained trooper and better than most. Mac trusted her. “Okay.” Their gazes connected for a moment. Had she read his reluctance? He quickly refocused. “Chris, you take the back with the sergeant. Everybody ready?”

They all nodded, and the five officers started toward the tiny cabin. At first, it looked like no one was there.

“I've got a vehicle in back,” Chris said over the radio.

“What kind of . . .” Mac stopped midsentence when the front door flew open. Troy Wilson staggered out, holding his hands over his ears. Blood covered his head.

Terror ripped through Mac as time stopped.

A shot exploded from inside the cabin. The bullet hit Troy square in the back, stopping him in his tracks.

Mac ran forward and caught Troy as he fell face-forward. Dana and Kevin fired through the open doorway. The shooter fired again, hitting Dana in the chest. She staggered and landed on her back, her head hitting the gravel.

Kevin emptied his magazine into the front of the cabin. Mac instinctively crouched down to lessen his exposure, while still cradling Troy with his left arm. He tried to level his handgun sights on the shooter and managed to get off several rounds.

Tunnel vision had set in and he felt as though someone had flipped a switch, transporting them into a surreal, slow-motion world. He needed to get to Dana. He gently lowered Troy's lifeless body to the ground.

Kevin dumped his empty mag and ran to Dana, dropping down next to her.

More shots erupted from the back of the building.

“Twelve-ninety-nine, twelve-ninety-nine, officer down,”

Kevin yelled into Dana's spike mic.

Mac ducked as a big Dodge truck careened around the corner with Jack Clovis behind the wheel, firing from his window. A round hit the ground less than a foot from Dana's boots. Sergeant Evans and Chris sprinted around the corner.

“Is she bad off?” Frank yelled.

“Don't know. You guys okay?” Kevin yelled back.

“We aren't hit; the guy came out too fast. We got off a few rounds into the truck, but I don't think we hit him.”

Oh God, make her be all right. Please.
Mac raced to Dana's side.

“Talk to me, Dana.” He dropped down next to Frank.

Dana opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Tears filled her eyes. “Hurts.”

Kevin ripped her uniform shirt and vest off.

“There's no blood.”

“I think the vest stopped the round.” Kevin said. “She may have some broken ribs, though. Probably had the wind knocked out of her.”

“I'm okay,” Dana whispered. “Where is he?”

Mac looked at Kevin and got to his feet. “He won't get far.” He motioned to Chris and Frank. “You guys stay with her.”

“You ready, Mac?” Kevin scrambled to his feet, and the detectives reached their car in record time.

“Let's go.” Mac crushed the gas pedal as he tore after Clovis, who left a handy trail in the wet dirt to indicate his direction. Their cars hadn't been a deterrent to the all-terrain vehicle Clovis drove.

Kevin prayed out loud as Mac pushed the Crown Vic for all it was worth. “Lord, give us the strength to finish this task and the courage. Please be at our sides, guide our actions, and help us do the right thing.”

Mac's chin was set, and his hands were tight on the wheel. He didn't just want Clovis arrested; he wanted to kill him.

Mac came around a corner, nearly crashing into the back of the suspect's truck. Clovis had apparently gone out of control on the curve and hit a tree. The open door indicated their suspect had fled the scene.

“There he is!” Kevin caught a glimpse of Clovis running north.

“He's heading toward the cliffs.” Mac pulled his shotgun from the roof-mounted rack of the car and ran after Clovis, yelling for him to give up. Kevin, gun at the ready, ran with him.

“How do you know there are cliffs?”

“Troy told me.”

“That could be good or bad. Clovis knows the terrain better than we do. He probably knows a way out.”

“We'll have to outrun him.”

Or I will,
Mac thought. Kevin was already breathing heavily.

“Or at least keep him in sight.” Kevin closed in on Mac, pacing him step for step.

“His revolver has a scope, and he knows how to use it, so be careful.” Mac sprinted ahead, pausing just fifty yards from their suspect. Clovis was trying to negotiate his way over the deadfalls along the cliffside. Mac hit the dirt, putting Clovis in his sights. He was legally justified in shooting the fleeing murderer. But Mac didn't feel the moral justification. “Jack Clovis,” he yelled again.

“State police; stop where you are! Don't make me shoot you!”

Kevin caught up to Mac again, diving to his side and leveling his Glock on Clovis.

Clovis got off another shot.

Kevin looked at his Glock. “This thing is just about worthless at this distance, Mac. You have a good sight picture?”

“I've got him.” Mac leveled the post on the ghost-ring sight on the middle of Clovis's back. “Stop, or I'll shoot you where you stand!” Mac yelled again. Clovis stepped awkwardly over a large deadfall. They were at the edge of a cliff. Beyond Clovis, there was nothing but air. A strong east wind howled through the trees. The bear of a man stepped up on a log, his back to them. He held his revolver out to one side as if he were going to give up.

“Drop the gun!” Mac yelled. “Don't make me shoot you!”

In a fluid motion, Clovis spun around and aimed the barrel dead on them.

Mac fired in a heartbeat. Time once again stood still. Mac swore he could see the slug leave his shotgun muzzle, penetrating the smoke cloud on its way into Clovis's left shoulder. The massive shotgun slug tore into the soft target and spun Clovis around. The gun fell. To Mac's surprise, Clovis then picked up the gun and dropped out of sight.

33

H
E'S GONE OVER THE CLIFF!” Mac tore out after him, not knowing if the man had fallen or had taken a trail down the treacherous slope.