Victoria Houston - Loon Lake 14 - Dead Lil' Hustler (7 page)

Osborne checked his watch: not time for him to go back to the hospital just yet. With a nod from Lew, he and Ray slid onto the bench on the opposite side of the picnic table.

Raising his head and taking a deep breath, the man said, “I am so sorry.” He mopped at his face with a white handkerchief. “I’ve been driving since three this morning, haven’t eaten, haven’t slept in two days, and I know something bad has happened to my son. I know it in my gut. I know it in my heart. I can’t prove it, I just… know it.”

Osborne felt a chill. He knew that feeling.

“Lewellyn Ferris. I’m chief of the Loon Lake Police,” said Lew, extending a hand to the man sitting next to her. “I’ll do my best to help you find your son.

“Appearances aside,” she said with a gesture and slight smile in the direction of Ray, “the two gentlemen sitting behind us are deputies of mine and both are very knowledgeable of the Northwoods. My hunch is one or the other will know right where to look for your son.”

Lew stood up and, putting a hand on Osborne’s shoulder, said, “I’d like you to meet Dr. Paul Osborne. Doc is a retired dentist and he works with the Loon Lake Police and the Wausau Crime Lab when we need an odontologist. That’s forensic dentistry,” she added as a look of confusion crossed the man’s face.

“And Ray Pradt here is a fishing and hunting guide. He knows just about every body of water and logging lane in the region. Or to put it another way,” Lew winked at Ray, “for as long as I have known him, Ray has managed to avoid holding a real job. Not to downplay the seriousness of your situation, sir, but I thought you would appreciate knowing who we are.”

“And I do,” said the man. “I’m Jake Barber, the guy who called you early this morning, Chief Ferris. My son, Liam, is a grad student in behavioral ecology down in Madison. He has been living up here this summer and working on a research grant studying invasive plant species. We’ve been in touch all along until he disappeared last weekend.”

Osborne studied the man as he spoke. Wide-faced with a firm well-shaven jaw, Barber was plain-spoken and direct. Osborne guessed him to be in his late fifties. If it weren’t for his office pallor, he might be someone who enjoyed the outdoors—a runner or cyclist perhaps.

“The facts are this,” Barber said in the crisp tone of a man used to giving directions. “Liam is twenty-two years old, he’s healthy, and he is familiar with the outdoors. We have fished and hunted for years so it’s not like he can’t take care of himself. I am very worried because I have not heard from him in the last four days and that is highly unusual. I want to emphasize that:
highly unusual
. We’re close. Maybe closer than most fathers and sons—we talk every evening.” Jake paused before saying, “We lost his mother to cancer five years ago. So… we stay close.” He gave an apologetic shrug of his shoulders.

“Does he have a girlfriend?” asked Ray. “I’ve been known to go missing for weeks when—”

“I wish he did. And, believe me, I would know if he did. He’s made friends with the other interns but, no, he has not been dating anyone up here.”

Jake looked back at Lew. “Chief Ferris, I did some checking before I left home. My son has not used an ATM or his credit cards. I know because I’m on the accounts. His two best friends have not heard from him either—on Facebook or e-mail or texting. And those guys are always in touch so that’s odd, too.”

“I see,” said Lew. She had pulled out her notebook and was taking notes. “Besides his work on the research project, tell me what else your son does. Hike? Swim? Scuba dive? Go camping? Can you think of anything that might motivate him to go somewhere? Does he carry a cell phone?”

“Yes, he has a phone. But I keep getting the signal ‘dropped call.’”

“Not unusual up here,” said Osborne.

“Doc is right,” said Ray. “I have to stand outside my trailer to get a good signal… You see people pulled over and standing on their cars? They’re not nuts… just trying to get a signal from a cell tower.”

“Have you asked your service provider to see if they can trace your son’s phone?” asked Lew.

“I didn’t think I could do that. Aren’t there legal hoops to jump through? That would take weeks. At least that’s what customer service told me.”

“Customer service is wrong,” said Lew. “A missing person is not a missing felon—and they are required to execute a trace immediately.”

“Oh no,” Jake looked stricken. “You mean this could have been done yesterday?”

“Should have been,” said Lew. “Give me the information and I’ll call. When it’s law enforcement, they sit up straight.”

“Here’s the cell phone number and the name of our service provider,” said Jake, handing her a slip of paper.

Lew hit Speed Dial for the Loon Lake Police dispatch center. After giving directions for calling the service provider and Liam Barber’s cell number, she said, “If they give you any trouble, Dani, call me right back. Any news from Bruce yet on those remains we found? Okay, if he calls in, let me know ASAP.”

Clicking her cell phone off, Lew turned her attention back to Jake Barber. “Sorry for the interruption but it’s important we get that trace underway.”

“Thank you,” said Jake, relief on his face. “You asked what my son does. He loves to fly-fish, which is a big reason he was looking forward to his internship up here. I own a cabin in Jackson Hole where we go as often as we can. Also Liam spent last year in Japan teaching English as a second language and the father of one of his students taught him a Japanese fly-fishing technique called tenkara. He’s been planning to fish tenkara-style up here—see if it works better in narrow trout streams.”

“Really,” said Lew. “Did he mention where? The names of any streams, rivers, lakes?”

“Yes, I tried to remember some and wrote them down.” Jake pulled a wallet from his pants pocket and took out a slip of paper. “The Prairie River, the Ontonagon, and the Bois Brule. He tried tenkara on the Elvoy and said he had just a great night of fishing.”

“All well-known trout streams,” said Lew. “I fly-fish so I know.”

Jake nodded then said, “Recently he was talking about trying to find a way in to a stream that’s well off the beaten path. He had a botany professor who told him about a trout stream that has huge brookies—three and four pounders—because few people know about it.”

“Wow,” said Lew. “I wonder where the hell that could be. I’ve never seen a brook trout that big. Have you, Ray?”

Ray shook his head. “Sure he wasn’t talking largemouth bass?”

“No. Brook trout.”

“Do you have the professor’s name and number?” asked Lew. “He might point us in the right direction. My worry is he tried finding a place that’s so far off the beaten path that he may have gotten lost. Happens up here too often.”

“I’ll put my secretary on it,” said Barber. “I can tell her who to call at the university. My cell phone is in the car. I’ll go get it.” He jumped up from the picnic table.

“Hold on a minute,” said Lew, grabbing his arm. “A couple more questions first. What about you, Mr. Barber? What do you do and how can I can reach you if I need to?”

“Oh, sorry. I run All Tech, a software company with offices in Chicago and I live in Wilmette, Illinois. Liam is my only child and—what more do you need to know? This isn’t about me.”

“Of course not, but the parents of missing children forget they may be the target. Are you a wealthy man?”

“If you’re thinking Liam may have been kidnapped that doesn’t strike me as plausible. I know no one who—”

“I’m sure you don’t but I want you to give it some thought. This region has a number of summer camps where celebrities and very wealthy people send their children. We’ve had more than one instance when—”

Barber waved a hand before she could finish. “I see what you mean. But I’ve had no phone calls, no strange messages, nothing to hint that anyone even knows I’ve been worried about Liam.”

“Last question,” said Lew. “Have you already talked with the county sheriff? Checked to see if they’ve heard or seen anything?”

“He’s next on my list but when I stopped by the Bass Lake office, they told me to start with you. Oh, one more thing: Liam’s car is missing. It’s a staff vehicle—an old Jeep Wrangler. I’ve got the license number for it.” He rummaged through his wallet for another scrap of paper.

“Hold on for a second, Mr. Barber. I’ll check in with the sheriff, see if they know anything.” Lew reached for her phone. “Hey, Chief Ferris here. Is Sheriff Moore in? Ask him if he has a minute, please? I have details on a missing person I’d like to run by him.” Lew covered her phone and said, “I’m putting this on speaker in case you would like to add something.”

“Lewellyn, I heard you found that missing banker,” said a relaxed male voice. “Don’t know if I have much for you on that case, though I—”

“That’s not why I’m calling, Garry.” Lew interrupted him. Garry was a talker and right now she didn’t want to take the time to humor him. “One of the summer interns working out of the Bass Lake Natural Resources Center here in Loon Lake has been missing for four days. He was researching invasive plant species and the family is concerned that he may have wandered too far into a remote area and gotten lost. We’re talking city kid here. Who knows if he has a compass much less knows how to use it? Know what I mean? His car is missing, too. I was hoping some of your people might have found it or could keep an eye out as they’re driving around. We’ll cover Loon Lake but who’s to say he might not be out in the county somewhere.”

“Sure, give me the info. I’ll post it for our neighboring counties, too. Say, Lewellyn, whereabouts in the national forest were those remains found?”

“Two kayakers spotted the body floating in the Pine River. The Wausau boys are working the site right now. Why?”

“That’s what I thought I’d heard. Tell them to be
veeery
careful. Lost one of my best K-9 search and rescue dogs in that area last spring. Wolves. The Violet Lake Pack.”

“Thanks, Garry, you’re not the first to mention that. Appreciate the help—and the warning.” Her phone off, Lew turned to Barber.

“Where are you staying, Mr. Barber?”

“The Loon Lake Inn. Haven’t checked in yet. Please, call me Jake.”

“Oh, one more thing,” said Lew, pulling the notebook from her back pocket again. “Where has your son been living?”

“Liam is sharing an apartment with another intern. Phil Branch is the boy’s name. They rented a house near the Loon Lake Library and I’ve been calling the house phone number but no one answers. I have the address in my car. I went by there the minute I got into town but no one was home.”

“You didn’t go in?” asked Lew.

“I don’t have a key and—”

“Sure, that’s understandable,” said Lew. “I’d like you to do two things right now. First, make that call to your secretary so we can locate that professor who may know where your son has been fishing. Then follow me into town. We need to check the apartment and talk to Liam’s roommate. He may know something.” She checked the time. “If the other intern was working today, he should be home by now. We need to catch him before he goes anywhere.”

“So… you think I’m right about this?” asked Barber. “You think Liam is lost?”

Lew’s eyes met his. “I want you to be wrong. I will do my best to prove you wrong.”

But Osborne could see that she was worried.

At the last minute, Osborne decided to follow Lew and the others into Loon Lake. After all, Mike would be fine in the backyard and Ray had offered to feed him later that evening.

Their four cars made an odd caravan driving into the little town: Lew’s authoritative Loon Lake police cruiser was followed by Jake Barber’s imposing black Navigator. Behind the rear bumper of the Navigator chugged Ray’s battered pickup, the late afternoon sun flashing off the leaping walleye its owner had fastened to the rusting hood. Bringing up the rear was an uninteresting dark green Subaru, which looked out of place but the retired dentist at the wheel didn’t mind.

After parking on a side street in one of Loon Lake’s quiet, tree-lined neighborhoods, Jake pointed in the direction of a small frame house with a one-car garage. They gathered on the sidewalk before trooping up to the front stoop. As they neared the house, Lew led the way. Osborne chose to be last in line. One of his pleasures since meeting Lew had been watching her at work.

Although many women her age lived in bodies that had softened with time, Lew’s had gained muscle—though the trim fit of her uniform’s khaki shirt did little to obscure the fact she was female. Behind her strode Jake Barber, his tall, squarish frame defined by well-cut dress pants. The late afternoon heat had given him an excuse to remove his coat and tie and unbutton the collar of his white shirt. At the moment, he looked less like a distraught father than a businessman intent on negotiations at the bargaining table.

Behind Jake loped Ray whose appearance belied the serious nature of the house call. Lanky, light-footed, and loose-limbed, his torso appeared to move in three sections with the midriff taking the lead followed by long legs followed by head and shoulders—the latter appearing to make a last minute decision to join the rest of his body. Osborne had learned long ago that Ray’s casual appearance was a mask. He might look goofy but the man could be trusted to be as alert as a great blue heron: He would not miss a detail—sight, sound, not even a scent—that could lead them to Jake’s missing son.

Lew rapped on the front door and waited. No answer. She knocked again and a muffled male voice hollered, “Hey, you guys, take it easy.”

Seconds later a sleepy youth who couldn’t have been much over the age of twenty yanked open the door. At the sight of his visitors, he stumbled back in surprise. “Whoa, who are you?”

“Police. Does Liam Barber live here?” asked Lew.

“Yeah but he’s not home right now. Why?”

Ignoring the question, Lew turned sideways and, indicating Jake, said, “This is Liam’s father and I’m Chief Lewellyn Ferris with the Loon Lake Police. Mr. Barber is very concerned that his son may be lost. The staff at the Bass Lake office wasn’t much help, so we’re hoping you might know something.