He pulled in at an autocafé, less than fifty kilometres from his destination. Breakfast consisted of paste sandwiches and coffee with a faintly metallic taste, and he sat by the window, browsing local news feeds in case he could discover anything more about Jeff’s supposed suicide. Once he’d finished his coffee, he placed a call to the police station in Lakeside. He soon found himself talking with the sheriff there, a man by the name of Waldo Gibbs, who agreed to meet him when he arrived.
Just over an hour later, Saul pulled up outside the police station in Lakeside, a two-storey brick building with an open garage next door, crammed with trucks and cars built for the mountainous terrain. Gibbs stood waiting for him on the steps. Saul guessed he was in his mid-fifties, with a weather-beaten face beneath a fur-lined hat, and he looked like the type who preferred a life outdoors. Saul made sure to activate his UP so the sheriff could confirm his identity, as they shook hands.
‘Mr Dumont. I’m a little unclear why the ASI has been showing so much interest in Cairns. Did your boys forget something before they left?’
Saul kept his face impassive. He’d had no idea ASI agents had been involved in the investigation. ‘When exactly were they here?’
Gibbs squinted at him in the early afternoon sun. ‘Just this morning, but I’m afraid you’ve missed them. I’m sorry if that means you’ve had a wasted journey.’
‘I’m here to follow up on some things,’ Saul improvised. ‘Were you present when they pulled his body out of the lake?’
Gibbs nodded. ‘I was there all right, and I told your boys they had the wrong man, but they didn’t seem interested in listening to me. Now they’ve gone and put it out that Cairns is dead, when I know for a fact he ain’t.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘What I’m saying is, the man we dredged out of that lake was not Jeff Cairns. But, the way you guys act, it’s like you don’t give a damn.’
‘Then . . . in that case, who was it?’
Gibbs led him round one side of the station to a one-storey extension at the rear. ‘This is our morgue,’ he explained. ‘You wouldn’t think we’d need one this big for a town this small, but our catchment area covers a good chunk of the Rockies. If somebody’s got a body needs putting on ice, they either fly ’em in or drive ’em here.’ Gibbs pushed his way through a swing-door, and Saul followed him inside. ‘If a pathologist needs to see them, then they go on to Miles City.’
Saul noticed a lab assistant sitting at a live-desk. ‘How did you know for sure it wasn’t Jeff Cairns?’
‘We didn’t know who the hell he was, when we pulled him outrsquo; said Gibbs. ‘He was wearing contacts, but they’ve got some kind of heavy-duty encryption on them that we can’t break.’
‘You still have them?’
‘Nope.’ Gibbs shook his head. ‘ASI took them. You’re lucky you got here when you did. They told us to cremate the body straight away. As it happens, it’s still waiting to be picked up.’
Gibbs stepped over to a wall of metal drawers and pulled one open. Saul stepped up alongside him and watched as the policeman pulled the sheet back off the corpse contained within.
Saul found himself staring down at Sanders, Donohue’s partner. One side of his skull had been caved in.
‘His head—?’
‘He got run over by a motorboat,’ said Gibbs, ‘which we later found abandoned and half sunk on the far side of the lake. With bullet holes in it, I should add. Now, Jeff Cairns has been coming up to Lakeside for some years, Mr Dumont,’ Gibbs continued, ‘and I’m sure you’ve noticed this isn’t a very big town.’ Saul stepped back from the drawer as Gibbs slid it shut. ‘I knew we had the wrong guy, soon as I set eyes on him,’ Gibbs continued, ‘and I told your people that. Except next time I watch the news they’re claiming it’s Cairns that’s dead.’ Gibbs made a helpless gesture. ‘Whoever that is, we can’t even trace him through the tags in his clothes.’
‘Why not?’
‘There just aren’t any. Looks like he didn’t want anyone being able to track him.’
Saul nodded slowly. ‘So any idea what happened to the real Cairns?’
‘None,’ said Gibbs, ‘and I already asked your people that same question. Now, you have to understand that whenever shit like this happens in my own backyard, I take a considerable interest in it – not that your people were exactly forthcoming when it came to sharing information. When you told me you were on your way, I hoped you might be a little more open with us than that other guy.’
That other guy. ‘Was his name Donohue?’ asked Saul, taking a chance.
‘Yeah, that’s the one.’ Gibbs’ face screwed up like he’d eaten something sour. ‘Is there anything else you need from me?’
‘If you don’t mind,’ said Saul, ‘I’d like to take a quick look at Cairns’ cabin.’
Gibbs guided the truck around the first of several switchbacks ascending a hill dense with forest. The sheriff clearly had a taste for driving on manual, and had complained, before setting out, that the auto-drive function in most vehicles wasn’t up to the mountainous terrain surrounding the lake.
Saul caught flickering glimpses of the lake itself through a tangle of trees and brush, while he thought about everything Gibbs had told him during their drive here to the lake.
‘So whoever stole the motorboat also stole the car?’
Gibbs glanced at him and shrugged. ‘Makes sense to me. I figure it must have been Cairns. He drove down to the lakeside, grabbed the boat, made his way to the far shore and stole a car, making mincemeat out of our friend there in the morgue on the way. Seems to me that whatever kind of trouble he was running from had caught up with him.’
‘Did he seem to you the kind of guy to get himself mixed up in something like this?’
Gibbs thought for a moment before replying. ‘Depends on what you mean by “this”. But, y’know, not really. Not if you’re talking organized crime or whatever.’
‘Right.’
‘But sometimes people get out of their depth, without even knowing it. Next thing you know, there’s bodies everywhere.’
‘I guess.’
‘Why ask me anyway?’ said Gibbs. ‘You wouldn’t be here unless you were looking for something. Maybe you should be telling me what Cairns was involved in?’
Saul smiled. ‘That’s not something I can talk about, sorry.’
‘Fuckin’ ASI.’ Gibbs shook his head. ‘Ever thought about cooperating once in a while?’
Saul shrugged, as if to say, What can you do?
The sheriff sighed heavily. ‘Do you need to see the incident report?’
Saul nodded. ‘I’d appreciate that.’
A moment later, a copy of the report appeared within Saul’s vision. He focused on the dashboard, thus projecting the report’s contents on to it. He quickly shuffled through several UP-generated video-files of Sanders’ bedraggled form being pulled from the water, along with several still shots of the motorboat and the bullet-holes drilled through its hull. He next skimmed the text, trying to build a picture in his mind of events as Gibbs had already described them.
Glancing away from the dashboard, Saul saw they had almost reached the cabin.
‘I figure the dead guy and one other chased your man Cairns down to the lake, meaning to kill him,’ said Gibbs. ‘Maybe they meant to shoot him out in the middle of the lake, where it’d be easier for them to dump the body. Except Cairns got away and took the boat for himself – which would at least explain the bullet holes.’
‘Two men chased him? Do you have any evidence for that?’