Tahoe Dark (An Owen McKenna Mystery Thriller Book 14) (21 page)

“Easy to haul in a kayak or a canoe,” Bains said. “But where would the boat be now? Would they have just left it on the beach?” Bains looked out toward the water.

“There’s another possibility,” I said. “Let’s say the robbers got away in a stolen vehicle. They drove it up to the lake to a prearranged location where they knew there were lots of kayaks they could help themselves to. The West Shore, maybe. They could even have stolen a vehicle from an empty vacation home, then brought it back and left it where they found it. No one would know it was borrowed to use in a robbery.”

Bains was nodding as I spoke.

I continued. “From there, they could have found two tandem kayaks. Or a single canoe. Lots of people have vacation homes where they keep an extra vehicle and all manner of boats. It’s not too difficult to paddle south from the West Shore down to Baldwin Beach.” I paused, thinking. “If they wanted to leave here by car, they could have given their borrowed boat a push, and the breeze would have taken it out into the lake. It might be days before it washes up on the opposite side of the lake. It could land in one of the hidden coves south of Sand Harbor.”

“We might never find it,” Bains said.

“I buy that scenario,” Bains said. “It fits with what we have here, and it makes sense from the point of view of the robbers. It leaves them and their money in a hidden, hard-to-track location and near a vehicle they’ve previously left. They probably parked it across the highway at the Mt. Tallac trailhead parking lot.” Bains seemed to think about it. “What doesn’t make sense is that the victims were speared from the front. That would give them a chance to see their attackers and call out.”

I said, “Maybe both victims were killed at the same time. The two killers could have coordinated their timing. The only other explanation I can think of is that there was one killer, and he wanted his victims to know he was killing them. He wanted them to have that be their last thought.”

Bains made a face. “That’s really vicious. By definition, first degree murder is always pretty vicious. But spearing a guy to his face is especially so. Let’s say there was just one killer. What do you think happened to the fourth robber?”

“No idea. Maybe they sent him out on a food run. Or he could have paddled off in one kayak, towing another so he could ditch it and leave less evidence that the four robbers camped here.”

Jorge came over carrying a gym bag. “Found this in the woods,” he said. He held the bag open by spreading the two handles, one in each of his latex-gloved hands.

We looked inside and saw two white hockey masks.

“Good find!” Bains said. “There might be some hair on those. Could be a source of DNA.”

We heard movement coming from the tent. The tent flap moved, and Street came backing out on her hands and knees. She had a surgical mask over her mouth and nose. She paused, reached out, and set her sample case on the ground outside the tent, then continued to back out. She stood up, walked away from the tent, took off the mask, and took a deep breath. I walked over and put my arm around her shoulders.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “You look pale.”

She took another deep breath. It was a moment before she answered. “It’s always a bit bracing. The circumstances. The odor. I can see why Spot is so sensitive to death. With a nose that’s ten thousand times more sensitive than ours, it must be overwhelming.”

“Ready to go?” I said.

She nodded.

“Sergeant?” I said, turning to Bains. “It looks like we’re done here.”

“Okay. We’ve got it from this point. Dr. Casey, please send your report directly to Dr. Sender. Thanks for your help.”

“You’re welcome,” she said.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Street and I walked back out onto the meadow and over to the Jeep.

I put my hand on Street’s leg as we drove away. “How’re you doing?”

“I won’t say it isn’t hard, but I’ve been there before. I’m a scientist. It’s not the bodies and maggots that bother me. That’s just biology. Nature’s recycling system.”

“Yeah, I have a harder time with that than you.”

“What’s difficult,” Street said, “is thinking about the person who did this. I accept that human deviation goes into some very dark corners. But I wonder what could motivate a killer to be so brutal? What could possibly happen that would turn a person into such a monster? Because in the final analysis, that’s what this killer is, right? A monster. A defense attorney may decide to use an insanity defense. And doctors may concur. But he’s still a monster.”

“I agree,” I said.

We were silent a bit, both wrestling with thoughts about the things humans are capable of. To break the tension I said, “You’ll want to drop your samples off at your lab, right?”

“Yeah. It will take a little time. I have to sort all the killing vials and the live vials, then measure the maggots, both dead and alive, then feed the live ones.”

“You say that like you’re feeding the dog. Put out a bowl of maggot kibble, and they’ll come crawling, huh?” I tried to make it a joke. But when I glanced at Street, she wasn’t smiling.

“I’ve got beef liver in my freezer,” she said. “It’ll take a few minutes to defrost it in the microwave.”

“How do you feed it to them?” I said, not sure I wanted to know.

“After it’s thawed, I just divide it up into small containers, one for each group of homogeneous maggots. There were three different sizes of maggots on the bodies. Which means that they may be different species of flies. Or the bigger ones may have simply grown faster on the body in the tent because it stayed warmer at night. Anyway, each group of maggots gets its own bowl. I put the maggots directly on the liver and set them in the incubator. Maggots love that stuff. They squirm with liver lust.”

“Sorry, but that sounds really disgusting,” I said.

Street looked at me. “It is.”

“Do you have any preliminary sense of time of death?”

Street thought about it. “It’s been cool at night, but warm during the day. Blow fly eggs hatch faster when it’s warm. If the men were killed in the evening, blowflies would have still been active until it got cold. So they would have laid their eggs. But those eggs might not have hatched until the warmth of the next day.”

I said, “So if the men were killed the same day as the robbery, the soonest the eggs could have hatched would be about forty-eight hours ago from now, soon after the sun shined its warmth into those trees.”

“Right. Most of the maggots were still in the first instar stage, although a few of the ones from the body in the tent had molted and were in the second instar stage. So my preliminary guess would be that the men were killed roughly in the evening, two days before yesterday evening when you found them. About fifty-six hours before now. I’ll have a more accurate analysis in a few weeks.”

“In other words, they were probably killed in the evening the same day they robbed the truck.”

Street nodded.

I turned up Kingsbury Grade and pulled in front of the building where Street worked.

“Do you need any help in your lab?” I said as I carried her sample case from the Jeep and into her lab.

“No. It’s best if I’m alone so I can concentrate and make certain I get everything organized and labeled properly.”

“Okay, I’ll run across the highway to my office, check messages, and be back in a half hour to take you home.”

Street nodded but didn’t speak, already focused on the rack of vials she lifted out of the case.

I left.

The answering machine was blinking when I walked into my office. I pressed the button.

“Hey, McKenna, Bains here. I’ve got IDs on the vics. They had Nevada driver’s licenses in their wallets. And the licenses look legit. Give a call when you can.” He rattled off a number so fast I had to replay it twice to make my best estimate and write it down.

I dialed back.

“Sergeant Bains.”

“McKenna returning your call. The dead guys have names.”

“Yeah. I’m still at the campsite, but I thought you’d want to know sooner rather than later. Ready?”

I grabbed a pen and pad. “Ready.”

“Carter Remy, age twenty-six, from Fallon, Nevada and Lucas Jordan, age twenty-five, from Reno.”

“Both from Nevada,” I said as much to myself as to Bains.

“I called Val at the office and asked her to look them up and see if they have sheets,” Bains said, “and they do. Both have spent time getting three squares from correctional facilities in the state of Nevada. Between them, they’ve had two charges for battery, one burglary, two DUIs, one auto theft, one carrying a stolen, unlicensed weapon, one receiving stolen property. Who knows what’s in their sealed Juvie records.”

“But no armed robbery?” I said sarcastically.

“Right. Taking down an armored truck is good for multiple charges including carjacking. With their records, these guys would have gone away for good. I sure would like to know who their compatriot is. He is some sick piece of work.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It would take a serious personality glitch to spear someone with a ski pole,” I said. “Thanks for the names.”

We hung up, and I dialed Diamond.

“McKenna calling,” I said when he answered.

“Morning,” he said. “I heard you found two bodies that were stabbed with ski poles over by Baldwin Beach. Rumor is they might be my robbers?”

“Looks like it. Bains and his men found some hockey masks in a gym bag, hoodies hanging up on bushes, some cash in the bushes and a wad in one of the victim’s pockets,” I said. “So it looks like these were the robbers. That leaves two robbers still alive.”

“One or both of which is the likely perpetrator,” Diamond said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Bains just called with the victims’ names and records. Choir boys they ain’t.”

“I’ll give him a call,” Diamond said.

We hung up, and I went back to Street’s lab.

She was almost done.

When we were driving home in the Jeep, Street stayed silent. She would probably need some time in the coming days to process what she’d seen.

We came to the turnoff to Street’s condo. I pulled in and parked. She unlocked her door and let Blondie and Spot out, and they charged around with gusto. I could see that Spot’s time with Blondie had reset his emotions, and he was back to his normal good attitude. As is typical, he was more interested in playing than in reconnecting with his master who’d been gone for hours.

Street and I walked for an hour while the dogs ran. Then it was time for me to go.

Street said, “If you can learn something about the money at the campsite, I bet that will tell you if these crimes are all connected.”

“How is that?” I asked.

“What if there is a way to identify the ransom money the Incline man withdrew from the bank? Or the money from the robbery? You could see if by any chance the money from either or both events was in those bills blowing around the campsite.”

“The manager at the armored truck company told me that the money was unmarked.”

Street nodded. “Even so, there might be some other qualities about the money that would be useful. For example, was there anything notable about the denominations? Sometimes an assortment of cash will only include twenties and under. Or maybe just hundreds. What if the money that the bank gave Montrop was all hundreds and the armored truck money was all smaller bills? Or maybe one group of bills was newer and the other was quite worn out.”

“Street, that’s brilliant. There could also be differences in the way the money was bundled. I’ve seen rubber bands and paper bands. I’ll check it out.”

Street nodded. She looked very weary. I could tell that her father’s parole board decision was weighing on her, and I wanted to cheer her up.

Before I could think of something to say, there was a metallic clunking sound from outside. Both dogs turned and looked at the walls, ears perked up. In the distance, a vehicle accelerated. Street frowned and got up to look out the window.

“That sounded like a fender bender out on the highway,” I said. “Or maybe like a pine cone falling and hitting a car roof.

“I don’t see anything,” she said. She came back to the couch and sat down.

“Before I leave, I have something for you if you’ve got a moment,” I said.

“What is that?”

I pulled out a little gift I’d gotten from the Artifacts store on the South Shore and handed it to Street. She opened it and made a little gasp.

“Owen, it’s beautiful! A butterfly in amber!” She lifted the necklace up and set the small oblong of amber in the hollow of her palm. The delicate chain snaked through her fingers, swinging beneath her hand. “This is probably a type of metalmark butterfly.”

“What does that mean?”

“The name refers to the metallic markings. See the yellow stripes against the deep blue patches? It looks metallic. And the surrounding coral color is gorgeous. This species is from the Riodinidae family.”

“That means butterfly?”