Read Evil Deeds (Bob Danforth 1) Online
Authors: Joseph Badal
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers, #Spy Stories & Tales of Intrigue, #Espionage
Evil Deeds (Bob Danforth 1) (34 page)
The motel owner got in the back of the Sheriff’s vehicle with Fricke and rode with them to the cabin at the back of the property. Mechem radioed an APB on the car Nolan told them he’d seen drive away from the property. When they arrived at the cabin, Buford cursed, “Sumbitch left the gol-darn door open! Probably got critters running all over the place by now. Bastard left all the lights on, too.”
Fricke and the men in the second vehicle encircled the cabin, while Bob and Mechem, guns drawn, carefully entered it.
Bob spotted the open trapdoor and the still-damp blood next to it on the floor.
“Who’s the guy you’re looking for?” Buford Nolan asked one of the FBI agents while they examined the back of the cabin.
The agent narrowed his eyes and scowled. Then his face relaxed slightly and he said, “He abducted a woman in CIA protective custody.”
Nolan snickered. “Don’t give you much confidence in the CIA, does it?”
The agent gave him a dirty look, but then smiled, as though to give the impression he’d thought the same thing earlier.
“Now who da hell busted up dese boards?” Buford said. “Gol-darn vandals!”
The FBI man inspected the broken planks. “What’s in there, Nolan?”
“Just the crawlspace. Unless . . ..” Nolan got down on his hands and knees. “Let me have your flashlight.” He crawled inside. “Somebody been in here,” he shouted. “The dirt’s all rucked up. Jee-sus! Got a big ole dead raccoon lying in a pool of blood. Got some kits, too. They hissing up a storm. Gonna have to get rid of these varmints.” He grabbed the dead raccoon’s tail and tossed it back toward the broken planks. The agent, who’d been peering into the crawlspace, jumped back when it landed near his face.
Directing the flashlight beam at the trapdoor, Nolan called out, “The trapdoor’s open. Someone’s definitely been under here recently.” He looked up through the opening in the floor and saw Bob looking down at him.
“What are you doing down there, Nolan?”
Nolan pulled himself up through the trapdoor into the cabin. “Somebody put a great big bullet hole in a raccoon down there. And somebody must have gone into the cabin through the trapdoor. It had to be opened from underneath.”
Bob took the flashlight from Nolan and directed it back into the crawlspace. Something caught his eye. He lowered himself through the trapdoor to the dirt below and pointed the flashlight beam at something shimmery lying in the dirt. Bob picked up what looked like a piece of cloth. After shaking the dirt off it, he stood in the open trapdoor and, in the cabin’s light, looked at the object: A blue and gold silk scarf.
Bob climbed back into the cabin and said, “Nolan, what’s with the trapdoor?”
“Used to be an escape hatch for moonshiners,” Nolan said. “So they could get away from the fuckin’ Treasury agents comin’ to arrest them.” He laughed as though he’d just told the funniest joke in the world. When he got no reaction from Bob or Mechem, he continued by saying, “The stills were out there in the woods. All these cabins got trapdoors. I put throw rugs over them and bolted the trapdoors from underneath. Only way they can be opened is from below the cabins.”
One of Bob’s CIA men suddenly entered the cabin through the front door. “I found three sets of fresh footprints leading from the back of the cabin to the edge of the trees. Two sets continued into the woods.”
“Did you follow them?” Bob asked.
“Yes, sir, but they petered out after ten yards or so.”
Bob raised the plastic bag containing the scarf to eye level. He noticed a tag sewn into the lining of the material: Jan’s Accessories, Washington, D.C.
Bob opened the bag and put it to his nose. The scarf carried the scent of perfume.
“Sheriff, we’re going to need to bring in a forensics team,” he said. He looked at Nolan and said, “I don’t want anyone cleaning up in here until we’ve finished.”
“You bet,” Mechem said. Then he gave Bob an almost sorrowful look and said, “I probably ought to put some men in the woods behind the cabin. If he killed the girl, he may have dumped her body back there.”
Bob just nodded. Then he pulled his cell phone from a pocket and called his son.
“Hello, hello,” Michael shouted, as though he’d been startled. His voice was thick with sleep.
“Michael,” he said, “we found a scarf that could be Miriana’s. I’d like you to look at it, see if you recognize it.”
“What else, Dad?” Michael asked.
“That’s it.”
Michael drove to meet his father at the Fayetteville airport later that night. The forty-five minute wait in the terminal for the CIA plane seemed interminable. When the aircraft finally landed, Michael rushed out of the terminal to the tarmac, meeting his father halfway.
Bob hugged his son and then said, “I can’t tell you much, Mike. We found where we think she’d been, but we don’t know where she is now. The man who kidnapped her was gone by the time we arrived. Do you recognize this scarf?”
Bob held up the plastic evidence bag, thinking the scarf lying crumpled inside was a pathetic way to try to bring hope to his son.
Michael stared at it. His shoulders suddenly slumped. “I’ve never seen it before, Dad. I can’t tell you if it’s Miriana’s. Maybe if I took it out and looked at it.”
“It’s evidence,” Bob said, “so only touch the edge.” He popped the seal on the bag and watched Michael slowly and partially lift the silky material from inside with the tips of his thumb and forefinger. He put his nose by the opening and inhaled.
“It’s Miriana’s. I recognize her perfume. It’s hers, Dad,” he said in a slightly hoarse, quiet tone. “The night she came down, we had dinner and went dancing. I was half drunk from the scent of that perfume. I’ll never forget it.” A smile started to crease Michael’s face, but it quickly dissolved. “What are we going to do, Dad? I’m nuts about her. You’ve got to find her.”
“Yeah, I know, son.” Bob said. “I’m doing all I can.” He patted Michael on the arm, turned, and ran back to the waiting plane.
Miriana followed Danny in the dark, through the dense woods, along a winding animal trail skirting the edge of moss-covered, granite cliffs. The moss and decomposing leaves made her footing on the rocky surface unsteady. She could hear a stream trickling below them, but couldn’t tell how far below it was. She struggled to keep up, all the while frightened about what would happen if she fell off the path. Her chest heaved from the effort of trying to stay close to the boy. Once, when she could no longer see or hear him, she stopped and called out his name in a low, frightened voice.
Other than the thumping of her heart, her labored breathing, and the noise of her footfalls, the woods were silent. Even the animals and insects seemed to have taken the night off. She couldn’t see or hear Danny. Then, as though he was a wraith, Danny appeared and took her hand to pull her along.
“Da . . . Danny, could ve . . . rest for minute? I need to . . . catch breath,” she said, panting.
He moved around impatiently while Miriana bent over gasping for breath.
“Sure,” he said, “but we gotta hurry home so you can tell Mama how I helped you get away from the bad man. Remember, you promised.” He seemed to be agitated.
Miriana straightened up, her chest still heaving, and laid a calming hand on the side of his face. “You do not worry. I vill say to your mama you are bravest boy in all vorld. You saved Miriana’s life. You are big hero.”
A satisfied “Humm” came from Danny. Then a cloud moved away, revealing the golden surface of the moon, lighting up his face. He wore a jack-o-lantern smile.
“Change of plan, Paulus,” Vitas said, a hint of malicious humor in his voice, as though he loved jerking around the Embassy employee. He imagined Paulus’ complexion turning red and the man’s stomach lurching. Vitas knew the effect he had on people and thrived on it.
“I asked you not to call me here at the house,” Paulus said in a hushed, pleading voice
.
“What is it, Artyan?”
“I will be in D.C. in about four hours. I need a place to stay until my plane leaves on Saturday. And I need another car. I’ve had this one too long.”
Paulus sighed. “I thought you didn’t plan to arrive until tomorrow night.”
“Are you telling me you can’t make arrangements?” Vitas growled.
“No, no, Artyan. I’ve already arranged for a safe house here. The key is under a flowerpot on the front step.”
“What about the car?”
“Where did you rent yours from?”
“Handy-Rent-A-Car at the airport. I used forged papers and a credit card that I don’t want to use again.”
“Let me think . . .. Okay, here’s what you do. Go to the airport and drop the car in the public parking lot. Take the shuttle to the Airport Hotel. There will be another car waiting for you in the parking lot on the north side of the hotel. I’ll put both visors down and an apple on the dashboard so you will know the car. The keys will be on top of the right rear tire.”
“Good!” Vitas said. “I’ll be there by 5 a.m.”
