Sundown on Top of the World: A Hunter Rayne Highway Mystery (31 page)

As far as Hunter could remember from his own inquiries, most comments about Blake mirrored Ken’s impression of the man. He was not overtly friendly, but hadn’t made any obvious enemies. There had been no reports of strangers asking for directions to his cabin, nor were most of the locals certain of the exact location. Out of the total population of not much more than a dozen, the few residents they spoke to in Johnson’s Crossing didn’t have any consistent theory about the disappearance of Martin Blake.

“I seen it before,” said one old timer. “It’s a hard life. Guy gets fed up. Not worth packing up stuff. Just high tails it out and leaves everything behind.”

But the dogs? “Takes a real asshole to leave the dogs chained up. Say, did you find his boat? Maybe the fella was out on the river and drowned and the body is half way to Dawson by now.”

But the blood? “Yep. Coulda been a grizz.”

Teslin was a larger settlement – population a little over one hundred – and not many of the people they talked to even knew Blake’s name, let alone cared. That’s where the post office was located, and Ken had asked about mail for Martin Blake. Did he get any? Did he send any? In the early days of the investigation, the answer had been yes, he’d mailed the occasional letter to an address in Ontario, and sent for and received several mail-order items over the three years he’d been living in the area. He’d purchased the goods using postal money orders, paid for in cash. How about letters? The clerk said no.

Did he make any phone calls while he was in town? The clerk didn’t know. How did he get to town? Pickup truck. What kind? Beater of an old Ford. Yet there was no record of a registration under his name and Blake’s truck was never found. Had the killer stolen it? Or had Blake somehow made it out alive?

“Oh, yeah,” the clerk had said. “Just thought of something. One time last summer I saw his truck – I’m pretty sure it was his – turn off toward Tagish at Jake’s Corner. He might’ve known somebody up the road to Tagish.”

Before he’d had time to look into that, a homicide investigator had taken over the case and Hunter was back to his routine patrol. Hunter didn’t see anything else about Tagish or Jake’s Corner in the case file, nor had he ever heard those locations mentioned again. He wondered whether someone around Jake’s Corner might be able to shed light on the mystery surrounding Martin Blake. Before the case went cold, the name of Grant Sanford hadn’t been mentioned. The anonymous note had made its way into the file a year later without any fanfare and it had been years before someone finally matched the prints taken from the cabin to those of the murder suspect and deserter who had once gone by that name.

– – – – – EIGHTEEN

Hunter had almost finished reviewing the file and was wondering why Bart hadn’t returned from his meeting yet when he heard voices in the hall outside. He pushed the file to the center of Bart’s desk and stood up to stretch. His muscles had been taxed by the unaccustomed exertions of pulling Betty Salmon’s travois through the Yukon bush. After napping in a chair at the clinic and then sitting so long in the RCMP vehicle, and now spending a couple of hours hunched over the case file, his neck and back had stiffened up.

The door opened to admit April, followed by Bart. Hunter nodded his greeting, relieved that she had shown up as promised, and surprised that she had arrived so soon.

“How did you get here so fast?”

“I just picked her up from the airport. She called the detachment just as I got out of my meeting.” Bart moved a chair next to Hunter’s, so she could sit in front of his desk.

“You aren’t going to Eagle?” asked Hunter.

She shook her head as she took the seat Bart had offered. “I’ll be sending Goldie a ticket to Portland. She’s promised to come for a good long visit.” Her face clouded with an uncertain frown. “Soon, I hope.”

Hunter glanced at Bart. The Staff Sergeant’s dark eyes were focused on him, as if waiting for him to make the first move. “Okay if I ask her a few questions?”

Bart nodded and settled himself behind his desk.

“Your car,” began Hunter. “You left your car somewhere. Where?”

Her face was blank. Hunter guessed she was thinking of her current vehicle, so he prompted her. “Where was your Volkswagen while you were living in the cabin with Martin Blake?”

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head as if just waking up. “Tired, I guess. Martin had me park it at a friend of his. He had a small homestead just off the Road to Tagish. Lived alone. He and Martin were friends, sort of. I don’t think Martin had any other friends up here.”

“You remember the friend’s name?”

“I only knew him as Tag. He seemed nice enough. Quite sociable, compared to Martin.” She shook her head. “Martin was pretty secretive about his past.”

“Why did you leave your car there and not take it to the cabin?”

“Martin said I’d probably get it stuck or damaged if I tried to go off road with it. He said it would be safe at Tag’s place. His truck was a real beater and had lots of clearance, so we used it to get to the cabin.”

“Kind of trapped you there, then,” interjected Bart.

The same thing had occurred to Hunter. He wondered again if she was lying about Blake’s character and her relationship with the man, maybe to herself as much as to others.

“Look. I didn’t feel trapped. He took me with him to town for supplies a few times.”

“Where was his truck the day you were attacked? Why didn’t you take it to escape?”

Her face went blank for a few seconds, then she frowned with the effort of remembering. “It was gone,” she said, seeming confused. “I don’t remember seeing it. Maybe that man took it. Maybe Martin left it somewhere. I don’t know. I don’t know why it wasn’t there.”

“So your car was left with Martin’s friend on the Tagish Road for over a year. I don’t suppose you have an address?” Simultaneously, Bart and April gave a short laugh. Hunter smiled. “Didn’t think so. Would you remember how to find this homestead?”

“I think so.”

She said she planned to book a flight out the following afternoon, so she would be free until then to show Hunter where Tag’s place was.

“Great. But while we’re here.” Hunter motioned toward the case file on the desk, looking at Bart as he said, “If I’m not mistaken, Staff Sergeant Sam would like to show you a photograph of the man we believe to be Martin Blake.”

Bart found the photo of Grant Sanford in the file and slid it across the desk in Hunter’s direction. “It would help the investigation if you could confirm this is Martin Blake. It’s a military photo so was taken before Blake deserted and well before you met him, so take your time.”

Hunter picked up the photo and looked at it again before holding it up for April.

“May I?” she asked, reaching for the photo. She took a hard look, glanced up at Bart and Hunter in turn, then sighed and concentrated on the photo again. Finally she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it really doesn’t look like him. I know men look different without facial hair, and I never saw Martin without a beard, but there’s nothing familiar about this face.” She was about to put the photo back on the desk, but hesitated and said, “I never saw him without long hair and a beard. I can’t swear to it that it’s not him in this picture, but if I had to come down on one side or the other, I’d say it’s not him.”

Hunter exchanged glances with Bart. He hoped the shaman’s son would have one of his famous insights, but no such luck. “If it’s not Martin Blake, then who is this man?” said Bart.

“More to the point,” said Hunter, “then who was Martin Blake?”

Fifteen minutes later, Hunter helped April climb into the passenger seat of his Freightliner tractor for the hour and a half drive to Tagish.

Bart’s eyes were laughing when he told Hunter to go ahead and take April to see if they could find the mysterious Tag. “You do the leg work. Tell me what you find out and if I think it’s worth it, I’ll take over when you leave the Yukon.” He shrugged and looked sideways at Hunter, adding “If you ever do leave, that is.”

Hunter shot him a dirty look before climbing into the cab.

“Why do you drive a semi?” asked April as he fired up the engine.

“Real men like big trucks.” He hadn’t told her that he wasn’t still a member of the RCMP. At this point, there was no reason for her to know. “Besides, I left my car at home,” he added.

As he drove through the streets of Whitehorse on the way to the Alaska Highway, Hunter asked April about her meeting with Goldie. She explained that Goldie had brought her and Betty together so they could understand the difficult position she was in, having to decide on the spot which one of them to spend time with. She had them help her make that decision. “Betty’s need for her was more immediate. I could see that. I had my visit with her and said ‘so long’.” With a wry laugh she added, “Age before beauty. Isn’t that the rule?”

“She’s a smart girl,” said Hunter, braking to a stop before a left turn.

“I like to think she takes after me.”

Hunter wondered who else the girl might take after. It was possible her father had some bearing on Martin Blake’s disappearance, whether or not April knew or was willing to admit it. He remembered what Betty had said about April leaving Michigan because of the baby’s father.

“Does her father know about her?”

The smile fell from April’s face. She was silent until Hunter had turned onto the highway.

“I doubt that he cares.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Why did you leave Michigan?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

He tried to make his voice playful as he said, “I should warn you that homicide investigators never know where to draw the line when it comes to getting information from witnesses.” His attempt at humor fell flat. He saw her tense up as she stared out the passenger side window. “Well?”

“I didn’t want my ex-boyfriend to know. I left in a hurry as soon as I found out I was pregnant.”

“Was he abusive?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You said the thought of returning to Michigan made you curl up in a fetal position in a dark room, remember?”

Her answer was expressionless. “He wasn’t my idea of a life partner.” But after she spoke she shivered as if she were cold. Hunter’s grandmother would have told her that someone had just walked over her grave.

“Did he come looking for you?”

“If he did, he didn’t find me.”

Hunter decided it was time to change the subject. He nodded and let a few moments of silence ease the tension. “So, how did you meet Martin?”

“Are all investigators so nosy?”

“You don’t like to talk about him?”

“Just giving you a hard time.” She chewed on her lip a few seconds before saying, “The Sluice Box. Just like you and your lady killer of a partner.”

Her sudden flippant mention of Ken was like a jab in the ribs.

“I knew people were going to start noticing my pregnancy, in spite of the loose smocks and dresses I used to wear. He seemed like a nice enough guy and he had a cabin in the woods. He was in town for a few days waiting for a guy to arrive from up north with a new dog so we had dinner together a couple of nights and hit it off. He invited me out to see his cabin. I said sure, on the condition that I could stay until spring, and that was that. I was pretty naïve. Thought I was some kind of earth mother. Who in their right mind moves far away from doctors and hospitals to have a baby?” She sighed. “If only I’d known how it would change my life, I wouldn’t have made the decision so lightly.”

“How did it change your life?”

She gave an exasperated grunt. “What do you think? Raped. Beaten. Almost killed. Almost died of exposure with my baby. Separated from my baby for twenty-four years. Pick one.”

Hunter apologized and concentrated on his driving.

“Martin was paranoid,” April said suddenly ten minutes later. “And he had nightmares about Vietnam. I should have mentioned that before, when I told you he’d seen a man from the army and was worried about being recognized.”

“You’re saying he might have only imagined he knew the man?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Did it affect his behavior in other ways?”

“Like I said before, he didn’t share too much about his past. He had those nightmares though.”

She fell silent again, then “I need to get a birth certificate for Golden.”

“You’re the mother. If anyone can obtain a delayed birth certificate for her, it would be you. You might need Betty to corroborate, but go talk to the Vital Statistics office and find out. It’s downtown beside the high-rise log cabin. I’ll take you there tomorrow morning if you want.”

She went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “I guess I was pretty screwed up back then, to think it wasn’t important. My head was somewhere else in those days. Sometimes it’s more important not to have a record of your existence, you know what I mean?”

Hunter glanced at her, but she had tilted her head back and closed her eyes. He let her sleep until they reached the Tagish Road.

Even after twenty-four years, April was able to recognize the turnoff to the homestead by its location after a sharp curve, but she said the hand lettered wooden sign that read “Wolf Creek Cabins” was new. The man she’d known as Tag was still living there, a fact that she found surprising but that Hunter did not. During his years in the Yukon he’d met many diehard residents who claimed to have found the perfect spot to live out their years and declared their intention to die there as well.

The man called Tag must have been in his sixties. He was fit and wiry, dressed in blue jeans and hiking boots, a plaid shirt left open over a faded navy tee shirt and a Blue Jays ball cap. He had been pushing a wheelbarrow full of split logs when they arrived. Hunter noticed a woman working in a garden between two small log cabins. Three dogs of assorted breeds came bounding up to investigate their arrival, sniffing first around the tires of the Freightliner tractor, then around the Hunter’s and April’s legs.

“You looking to rent a cabin?” The man slapped a mosquito off his neck as he addressed Hunter.

Hunter shook his head and motioned toward April, glad he’d remembered to apply Deet before he and April had left the detachment.

“Remember me?” asked April. When the man cocked his head and looked sheepish, as if he’d forgotten, she added, “I came here with Martin Blake, and I left my car here. You weren’t here when I came to get it but I left you a note, remember?”

“Aha! The hippie chick with the flowers on her Beetle.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “My god, that has to have been over twenty years ago. Never saw Blake again. What’d you do with the poor bugger?” He laughed as if it were a joke.

Hunter caught April’s horrified expression and answered for her. “He disappeared the year before April picked up her car. It was in the news at the time.”

“Never heard about it. I moved out to the bush to get away from the news.” He laughed. “Doesn’t everybody?”

“We were wondering if you’d heard from him since then. We’re trying to solve the mystery of where he went.”

“Can’t help you there. Like I said, I never saw him again. My brother dropped off a couple more letters for him, but when he never came by to get them, I told him to send the letters back.”

Tag explained that he’d been introduced to Blake by his brother, who had met Blake in Ontario when he’d first arrived in Canada. In fact, Tag’s brother was the one who had brought Blake up to the Yukon and Tag had helped him find a place to live and get set up as a trapper. “My brother drove truck, so he’d get up here now and again, two or three times a year, and come stay with me when he did.” He shook his head. “That Blake was an odd duck. Paranoid as hell. I guess he didn’t want anybody to know his whereabouts, so he had mail from home sent care of my brother’s place in the Soo.”