Victoria Houston - Loon Lake 14 - Dead Lil' Hustler (8 page)

“Oh, and these two gentlemen,” she waved toward Ray and Osborne, “may be able to help us locate Liam if necessary. May we come in?”

The boy opened the door wide and let them into a small living room that held an old television on a stand in one corner and a sagging brown sofa strewn with T-shirts, a pair of wrinkled cargo shorts, a scruffy blue wool blanket, and a soiled paper plate holding a slice of dead pizza. Two floor lamps with shades that looked as though they had been stepped on and an old wooden desk holding an open laptop computer completed the room’s décor. None of it encouraged Osborne to want to sit down.

“Sorry I didn’t hear you at first—I was working on my app,” said the boy, pointing toward the computer. “Liam and I have to have ’em done before we go back to school.” He leaned back against the desk as he spoke.

“When was the last time you saw Liam?” asked Jake, pushing aside the stuff on the sofa and sitting down. He leaned forward on his elbows, hands clasped between his knees.

The intensity of his gaze caused the boy to gulp before he could answer. “Last Monday,” said the boy, clearing his throat. “By the way, you guys, I’m Phil,” he said as he threw nervous looks at the four adults crowding the room. “Phil Branch. Um, I think it was Monday… yeah.” A disoriented expression crossed his face as he struggled to remember.

“Too much weed lately?” asked Ray, his voice teasing.

The kid gave a nervous laugh. “Um, no, not really.” Thrusting his shoulders back, he said, “Now I remember. Liam said he was planning to work his square on the grid and squeeze in some fishing when he could. I didn’t think about his being gone ’cause he keeps a sleeping bag and a two-man tent in the car and lot of times he stays overnight out there.”

“Out where? And what’s the grid?” asked Lew.

“Oh, here, I’ll show you,” said Phil, turning to touch the keyboard on the open laptop. The computer screen lit up. “Liam and I are responsible for finding samples of invasive plant species growing in this section of the Nicolet National Forest.” He pointed to a colored section on a map, then zoomed in. “See, here? The section is so big that we decided to break it down into squares on a grid and tackle one square at a time. Otherwise you’d go nuts, you know?”

“You’re looking at twenty square miles,” said Osborne. “That’s a heck of lot of forest land to cover on foot.”

“Yeah, we call it ‘job security,’” said Phil with an attempt at a laugh. “We don’t have to do it all this summer but as much as we can.” Moving the cursor, he said, “Liam has been working this section and I’m working over here.” He pointed.

Ray peered closely at the map. “Did anyone at the Bass Lake office happen to mention to you two guys that you’ve been working in a wolf rendezvous site?”

“Oh yeah. They gave us whistles. I haven’t seen a wolf yet though. Pretty silly if you ask me.”

“So you’re saying that my son is working this section?” asked Jake, leaning over Phil’s shoulder to point at the screen.

“Right. He told me he was hoping to harvest enough plants that he could take a long enough break one afternoon to hike in a couple miles to fish the Pine River. Figured he would have to bushwhack his way in ’cause no one ever goes there.”

“Except the wolves,” said Osborne.

“You think?” Phil looked up questioning. “I was told they’re afraid of people.”

“Yes and no,” said Ray. “If they feel threatened—or if one of their pups is threatened—you are not going to stop a wolf by blowing a whistle.”

The reality of Ray’s statement dawned slowly on Phil’s face. “Oh my God,” he said, his eyes darting from Ray to Lew and Jake. “You don’t think…”

“Ray, did you put the
Gazetteer
in the truck?” asked Lew.

“I’ve got one if you need it,” said Osborne before Ray could answer. “Want me to grab it?”

“Doc, you have to be at the hospital in an hour,” said Lew, glancing at her watch. “Ray, you’re officially deputized to assist me on this search as of right now.”

“I want to, Chief, but I promised I would guide these two guys from Milwaukee tonight and—”

“How much are they paying you?” asked Jake. Before Ray could answer, he said, “I’ll give you five times your fee. Call ’em and cancel.”

“Okedoke.”

That was one of the few times Osborne had seen Ray take orders from anyone other than Lewellyn Ferris.

Lew’s cell phone rang. She listened and covered the mouthpiece. “It’s Dani. They’ve traced the phone.” She waited. “No, are you kidding? Thanks.” She clicked her cell phone shut. “The signal from Liam’s phone indicates it is here in the house. At this location—where is his bedroom?”

“Around the corner on your right,” said Phil.

They hurried to a closed bedroom door and Lew pushed it open. An unmade bed, a small plywood dresser, and two folding chairs heaped with clothes that had been thrown at them. A pair of waders hung from a hook on the wall. Lew lifted a three-ring binder from the top of the dresser and under it found a cell phone. She picked it up and pressed the power button. “Um, out of juice.”

“That happens a lot. Liam forgets to plug it in at night. His laptop runs down, too.”

Jake shook his head. He walked over to the waders and stood staring at them. “I wonder why he didn’t take these.”

No one had an answer.

As they left the house, Jake’s secretary called his cell phone. She had reached the professor and learned that the trout stream he’d told Liam about was in the Nicolet National Forest: the Pine River. Problem was, he hadn’t been there in twenty years and couldn’t remember how he’d found it. “One of those twisty back roads—I found it by accident,” was all he could offer.

After the nurse’s aide removed her dinner tray, Nancy Jarvison relaxed back against the pillows and opened her iPad. She was halfway into the first chapter of the new book she had just downloaded when she heard a bustling in the hall.

“Sssh,” she said as loud as she could. She looked down at the screen but the annoying clatter continued, this time punctuated with snorts and feminine laughter.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she said to herself. “What’s the purpose of a private room if I have to listen to all this nonsense? Idiots.”

Bracing her bandaged left shoulder with her right hand, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Peering through the half-open door into the hallway, she could see the two nurse’s aides wheeling a large canvas cart toward the next room. She was about to lambast them both when she heard one say, “That’s Bud Jarvison’s ex-wife in 324. What a bitch. No wonder he dumped her.”

“They’re divorced? I didn’t know that. I have to tell my sister. She had a fling with him a while back. He’s a pretty handsome guy even if he is kinda heavy and, man, that dude has money.”

“I think they’re divorced. Yeah, I’m sure. After fishing last Saturday night, Jimmie and I stopped into Thunder Bay Bar for a couple beers. Bud was there with a woman. He kept trying to get her to stand up for the pole dance contest but she refused. I heard him promise her a hundred bucks if she’d get up and strip.”

“For a hundred bucks? I’d do it.”

“Yeah, well, she looked to be six months pregnant so I don’t think you would if you were that far along.”

Nancy backed away from the door. Bud at that disgusting strip joint with another woman? A
pregnant
woman? She could feel her blood pounding in her ears. How many times had he promised not to embarrass her like that?

The aides were moving down the hall, away from her room, still talking. Nancy edged closer to the crack in the door.

“Who’s the girlfriend, anyone we know?”

“Never saw her before. But very pretty. I think she’s Hispanic. Maybe one of the waitresses from the Mexican restaurant in Rhinelander? Yep, pretty and pregnant—poor thing. She’ll be lucky if she gets anything from Bud. Somebody shoulda told her…”

Back at her bedside, Nancy picked up her cell phone and pressed familiar numbers. “Hi, Brenda, would you do me a favor? Pick me up tomorrow morning early—like eight o’clock, please? And don’t tell Bud. I’m planning a surprise.”

She sank onto the bed, thinking. Then she inhaled sharply and, moving carefully, sat back against the pillows. She needed time to figure this out.

She heard a gentle knock on her door and her husband walked into the room. Nancy put a hand to her forehead. “Bud, honey, do you mind? I have an awful headache. Do you mind if we don’t visit right now?”

“Of course not, sweetheart. Say, have you heard anything more about how Doc Osborne’s grandson is doing?”

“No. Why would I?” The longer he stood there the angrier she got and she did not want him to see that.

“Earlier today you heard a nurse say the boy is very ill.”

“Oh that. No I haven’t heard anything. Just go, okay?”

Arriving at the hospital half an hour before Erin was expecting him, Osborne hustled past the waiting room, hoping not to be seen. One quick glance assured him Bud was nowhere in sight. That was a relief.

He found Erin and Mark sitting beside Cody’s bed while a nurse was busy recording data she saw on the myriad of instruments connected to his grandson.

“Any change?” asked Osborne.

“No, Dad. But Cody is so sedated right now that I couldn’t tell if there was. One of the residents came in a while ago and asked for permission to run additional blood tests for research he’s doing. I told him to go ahead. Can’t hurt, right?” She glanced at the nurse for confirmation and got a nod back.

“Okay, Dad, you’re on. We’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Osborne sat down in one of their chairs and opened
Lunkers Love Nightcrawlers
. He scooted the chair closer to where Cody’s head rested on a pillow and, encouraged by a slight smile from the nurse, he started to read.

• • •

On the drive out to the forest, Jake rode in the cruiser with Lew while Ray followed in his pickup. After driving for about fifteen minutes, Lew checked in with the dispatch center. She reached Marlaine, the night operator.

“Any news from Bruce Peters?” asked Lew.

“He called in to say there’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow, Chief. He’s had the Corbin remains transported to the crime lab for an autopsy. Said he’d be back at the site first thing in the morning. He said it took some doing to find someone who can get a vehicle back in there to salvage the snowmobile. He also said to tell you he’s hoping you’ve got Saturday off.” Marlaine chuckled. She knew the deal Lew made with Bruce.

“Anything else?”

“The usual speeding ticket and a rear-ender in the Loon Lake Market parking lot. Officer Donovan is handling that. Oh, and Dani left a note saying the FBI guy got here late this afternoon. She helped him set up his computer.”

“What FBI guy?”

“You got me,” said Marlaine. “That’s all she wrote on this note here.”

“Okay, I’ll deal with that in the morning,” said Lew, perplexed.
FBI guy?
Be nice if someone had told her what that was all about.

“Would it be out of line for me to ask why Dr. Osborne has to be at the hospital tonight?” said Jake when she was off the phone. “I thought you said he is retired.”

“I don’t think he would mind if I told you,” said Lew. “He’s in a situation somewhat similar to yours. His seven-year-old grandson is in an isolation unit with spinal meningitis. The doctors aren’t sure if he’ll make it.”

To her surprise, Lew’s voice wavered and a sob caught in her throat. She could feel tears starting. “Sorry to get emotional. Anyway, Doc’s relieving his daughter and her husband so they can grab a bite to eat and check on their daughters—they have two. And, ah, I’m worried for Doc.”

“I can tell,” said Jake, “and rightly so. Don’t apologize.”

Lew gave him a thankful grin. “Yeah, it’s tough.”

• • •

When they reached an entrance to the national forest, Ray’s truck pulled ahead. With the map open on the seat beside him, he led the way along a series of roads snaking through the forest. As they drove, the landscape changed from cedar swamps to groves of hardwoods and stretches of evergreens. At no time did they see any other cars, much less the Jeep Wrangler that Liam had been assigned.

“Ray, you got any bars for service on your phone?” asked Lew. “Mine is good.”

“Nothing on mine,” said Jake.

“That’s okay,” said Lew. “You’ll be with me anyway.

“Two—enough to reach you if I see anything. For sure, I can text,” said Ray. “Got your compass? I’m going to walk at a diagonal from you so we’re not leaving too large a gap from the territory you’re searching.”

“That works,” said Lew. “Okay, let’s see what we can do before it’s too late.”

She trudged off through a dense stand of balsam with Jake at her heels. They were out of sight within minutes, though Ray could hear them moving through the brush. He checked his compass before taking the diagonal track. He moved slowly hoping to see a sign of a human being having passed through the forest near him. Soon he was in a cathedral of old-growth hemlock where the only sounds were woodland creatures moving in the dim light, tracking him. He smiled. He loved these hidden caves of serenity where the only green beneath the towering spires were the ferns waving seductively across the forest floor. How did it happen that the rapacious loggers of the 1800s had missed these few acres of grand hemlocks? He had a hunch: There must have been a man like himself who saw the glory and the grandeur of the forest—and lied on his maps. Lied to save the trees and their haunted havens. Lied to save the owls, the woodpeckers—the predators and their prey safe in their universe.

He paused. A familiar fragrance in the air.
Really? Someone smoking weed back in here?
But as suddenly as the smell had hit his nose it was gone with a breeze that blew past him. He waited but the air was crystalline—no hint of marijuana. Finally he shrugged and moved forward. Must have been a flashback to his teenage years when he would sneak into a glen of hemlock not far from his parents’ cottage to light up, lay back, and love life. Yeah, it had to have been a flashback.

He spent the next two hours crisscrossing a vast swamp, following deer trails when he could, and hoping he wouldn’t stumble into a deep hole of the muck that liked to pretend it was quicksand. Just to be sure, he carried a long, sturdy branch he could use to break a fall or provide some leverage if he was lucky enough to fall close to firm ground. Should that happen, he could signal with a text message, screaming for help. As an added precaution, he pinned his compass up on his shoulder. Moving slowly, he scanned the landscape of swamp grasses, brush, purple loosestrife, and tag alder, hoping every moment that he might spot an unfamiliar shape or evidence that Liam Barber had passed this way. When his flashlight dimmed in need of new batteries and the cloud cover over the moon made it difficult to see, he decided with reluctance to give up for the night.