Shelf Ice (28 page)

“How sure are you of these results?” asked Ray.

“Very,” Taft responded. “The man is smooth with great social skills. He’s a veteran liar. That said, he was the perfect candidate. There aren’t many gray areas in his chart, it was obvious when he was lying.
 

“How about Richard Kinver’s murder?”

“It doesn’t appear that he had anything to do with that, and he had no direct knowledge of the crime. When I asked him if he had any suspicions as to the perp, he said no, but his body was telling the machine something else.”

“How about Elise Lovell?” asked Ray.

“He was uncomfortable with this line of questioning. It appears that he had a personal relationship with her, sex included.”

“And Molly Birchard?”

“The same. Seems like the reverend is spreading more than just the gospel,” he added with a playful smile.

“He’s created his own gospel,” said Ray. “It’s about 2 1/2 standard deviations south of any mainline religion. When will I have a written report?”

“I’ll send you a quick summary later today. The complete document with all the supporting information, more than anyone ever wants to know, will take a few days.”

“Sorry that we can’t do lunch today, I’ve got to leave in a few minutes,” said Ray. “I really enjoy our conversations. Let’s get together soon. And thank you for coming in on short notice.”

“Happy to do it, Ray. I’ll be interested to hear how this case turns out.”

47.

After carrying their kayaks to the stream, Ray and Hannah Jeffers sorted through their gear bags, attaching some items—their cell phones protected in small transparent dry bags and their bilge pumps—under the bungees in front of the cockpits and stuffing other things into the pockets of their life jackets. Ray handed Hannah a guide vest, a black net affair with five large pockets, four in the front and one in the back, constructed of black nylon mesh.

“I’d like to have everything that we might need initially on us. I’ll put the sleeping bag and extra clothing in my rear hatch and you can carry the food in yours,” he said, pulling a similar vest over his life jacket.

“Do you have room for this?” he asked, holding out a small flare gun, an orange plastic pistol with three extra 12 gauge shells. “I want each of us carrying the same safety gear. Have you ever fired a pistol?” Ray asked.

Hannah laughed, “You’re talking to an infantry officer.” She looked again closely, “So it’s loaded, and I release this safety and pull the trigger?”

“You got it,” said Ray. “A piece of simple, crude technology that is very dependable. Here’s one more thing to put on your deck.” Ray handed her two wooden dowels with steel spikes driven into one end, connected by a rope at the opposite ends.

“What’s that for?” she asked.

“Fishermen carry these when they are on the ice. If you happen to come out of your boat, you can pull yourself up on the ice.”

“Cool. Time for an equipment check?” asked Hannah.

“Sure, radios on and working, tow belts in place, and we’ve got all your medical gear in our vests.”

They climbed into their kayaks and attached the tight fitting, neoprene spray skirts around the cockpit combings. Seal-like, they slid down the ice-covered bank into the stream and paddled out onto the lake.

“A bit of a chop,” Hannah observed. “I thought it was supposed to be flat.”

“The NOAA forecast called for waves up to two feet early on, with a storm coming in this evening.”

“I hope Tristan felt well enough to venture out. He’s not in good shape,” Hannah observed.

“Lead the way,” said Ray as they turned south. “About how far do we need to go?”

 
“I should have paid more attention to that,” she answered, sounding somewhat abashed. “And I wasn’t carrying a GPS. But it’s down there at the end of the bay in the tallest area of the ice shelf. That’s where I found the biggest caves.”

They paddled away from the shore on a direct line toward that section of shelf ice. As they neared the area, Ray asked, “Where should we start looking for the cave?”

“Right about there,” Hannah pointed with her paddle and led the way.

After they worked their way through more than a dozen caves she observed, “They all look pretty much alike, but it was in here somewhere, and I don’t think it could have been much farther.”
 
A few dozen yards farther she peered into the largest cave they had encountered. “This is it,” she said.

Hannah turned her bow toward the opening of the cave and paddled hard. Her momentum carried her boat about half way up on the ice. Ray watched as a thin figure emerged from the dark interior and pulled her boat completely out of the water. After she was out of her cockpit and facing him, Ray followed suit, his kayak ending up behind hers. Hannah grabbed the bow handle on his boat and pulled it out of the water at the side of her boat.

“Watch your footing,” she cautioned as Ray started to climb out of his cockpit.

Tristan Laird was huddled in the back of the cave, surrounded by clothing and a damp- looking sleeping bag. A small, hand-built kayak was pushed up against the wall of the cave.

 
Hannah went to Tristan’s side, pulling on a headlamp. “This is my friend,” she said, moving her head toward Ray. “He’s going to assist me.”

 
Tristan kept his eyes on Hannah, not overtly acknowledging Ray’s presence.

“When did you paddle in this morning?” she asked.

“Stayed here, too weak,” Laird answered in a weak, breathy tone.

Ray knelt at Laird’s other side.

“First I need to get your temperature,” she said, removing a small electronic thermometer from a vest pocket. She slid it under his tongue, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Hannah carefully removed the device from his mouth, and she focused her headlamp on the digital readout.

“Tristan, I’ve got to listen to your chest. We’ll try not to undress you too much, I know how cold it is in here.”

With Ray’s help, she unzipped Laird’s down jacket and the second fleece jacket under it. She slid the chest piece of the stethoscope up under his t-shirt, instructing him to take deep breaths as she listened to his lungs, first on his back and then on his chest. When she was finished, they carefully zipped him back into his jackets.

Ray looked across at Hannah. He could see by her expression that Laird’s condition was serious. He imagined that she was trying to figure out a way to convince Laird that he needed the kind of care that could only be provided in a hospital.

“How am I, Doc?” he asked in a wheezy voice.

“Things aren’t good, Tristan. You have a lot of congestion in your lungs and a high fever. You need to be in a hospital.”

“You were going to bring me meds,” said Tristan in a pleading tone.

“I did, Tristan. Meds and food and a dry sleeping bag. But you’re too sick for them to do you much good. My colleague here,” she gestured toward Ray, “will confirm my diagnosis.”

“It’s true,” said Ray in a soft voice. “We can save your life if we can quickly get you to a hospital.”

“I can’t leave. Someone is trying to kill me.”

“We’ll get you safely out of here to a place where you can get better,” said Hannah.

“We can get round-the-clock protection, no one will be able to get you,” added Ray.

“Just leave the meds and food. I’ll be okay,” he pleaded.

“Tristan,” said Ray, leaning close. “The weather is changing, the wind is coming up. You can hear it, can’t you?” He paused to let the sound of the wind and waves echo through the cave. “Six to eight foot waves tonight. This cave is going to be flooded. If we are going to get you out safely, we’ve got to leave now.”

“I’m too weak. I can’t paddle.”

“If you can sit in your boat, we can tow you back. I’ll radio for assistance and have an ambulance and police waiting for us.”

Laird offered feeble resistance as they lifted him by his arms and moved him toward his boat. They carefully helped him pull on a spray skirt and PFD. Then they maneuvered his less than limber body into the tight-fitting cockpit.

“How are we going to do this?” asked Sue.

“It’s a tippy little kayak, and he’s very weak. We can’t take a chance on him capsizing. Why don’t you ramp with him, and I’ll tow.”

“It’s a long way.”

“When I get tired we’ll change off. Let me call dispatch and get people rolling, then we’ll launch.”

After Ray called for assistance, he got into his boat and carefully slid out of the cave. He waited as Hannah slowly pushed Laird’s boat in his direction. With one arm, he held onto the second boat while pushing away from the ice with his paddle, making room for Hannah to launch. Once she was on the water, she ramped up with Laird. Ray hooked his towline to the bow of her boat and paddled away slowly, allowing the rope to spool out of the bag. Once it was taut, he began to paddle, slowly at first to get the other boats moving, then adding more power, his eyes fixed on a distant destination. He settled into a steady rhythm, trying to set a rate that he could maintain for the entire route. Minutes crept by. Ray could feel the sweat begin to build in the interior of his dry suit. He kept looking back to check on the other boats.

Ray focused on moving as quickly as possible toward their destination. He was startled by the sharp report of a pistol. As he turned he saw a dark figure standing near the end of the shelf ice, firing toward the kayaks that were bouncing in waves at the end of his towline. Then he saw a flash from Hannah’s flare gun, the blaze of magnesium hitting the center of the figure, followed by an explosion of flames as the bulky nylon jacket of the shooter was ignited by the white-hot projectile. He heard a scream and then saw the shooter plunge into rolling surf.

Ray raced back, “Are you hit?”

“No,” Hannah answered. “We’re both okay.”

Ray let the towline go slack and paddled over to the edge of the shelf ice in the area where he saw the body hit the lake. He maneuvered back and forth several times in the reflecting waves, peering into the dark water. Then, pulling the GPS off his deck, he set a waypoint.

“See anything?” Hannah asked.

“No. Must have gotten trapped under the ice. We’d better get going,” Ray said, his destination now illuminated by the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. He got the slack out of the line and paddled toward their destination again, his efforts aided by the sudden burst of adrenalin.

48.

Ray leaned against Hannah’s Subaru and sipped on a water bottle one of the EMTs had given him before they left the scene with Tristan Laird, Hannah at Tristan’s side attending to his needs. A pickup truck slowly came down the road in his direction and stopped a few yards in front of him. Ben Reilly gingerly opened the passenger’s door and waved from the seat. A heavy black nylon jacket with his name and the department logo embroidered on the front was wrapped over his shoulders. Cut-off sweatpants covered the casted leg, with heavy socks and worn Birkenstocks on his feet.

“What are you doing here?” asked Ray.

“Couldn’t keep him away,” answered Maureen, Ben’s wife, coming around the truck from the driver’s side. “He calls Central Dispatch two or three times a day to see what’s happening. He hasn’t changed one bit.”

“I was talking to Central when your call came in. I knew Sue was out of the area, and I thought you might need some help,” Ben explained.

Ray looked toward Maureen who muttered, “It’s alright. He needed to get out of the house.”

“Ben, I could use your help. And he can do everything from here,” Ray reassured Maureen. He retrieved his GPS from the driver’s seat of Hannah’s car. “Push this button to bring the display back on,” he instructed. “When the dive team arrives, give them these coordinates. I think they’ll be able to locate the body just under the ice shelf in that area. And Brett should soon be here to collect evidence and photograph the scene. He’ll be able to figure it out from the coordinates too. I would bet the assailant’s car is near. They probably followed us here. This is the closest open access. Maybe that black Audi,” Ray pointed to a vehicle sitting at a plowed widening in the road.

“Do you have a name?” asked Ben, pulling a small notebook and pen from an interior pocket.

Ray took the notebook and pen, and using the top of the Subaru as a writing surface, carefully printed the first and last name. “I think that’s who you will find,” he said, handing back the notebook. “And you will probably find that name when you run the plates on that Audi.”

“You okay?” asked Ben.

“You know how it is when you come off an adrenaline high. I just need to go slow for a bit. I’m going over to the medical center and check on things. Thank you for being here.” Ray held Ben’s hand, then gave Maureen a hug.

“You guys,” she said. “You don’t change.”

• • •

Ray found Hannah Jeffers in the central area of the emergency wing, dressed in blue scrubs, standing at a desk keying information into a laptop.