“Knowing who killed Ackerman?”
“Right. On Friday she did Clay a favor by loaning him the truck. She probably told him to have it back by a certain time on Saturday, in case Will wanted to use it for a business appointment he had scheduled on Sunday. If Clay was late bringing it back, she’d have gone to his cabin to check on him. And she might’ve seen Ackerman.”
“So why didn’t she report it when she found out the girl had been murdered?”
“Probably because she didn’t want to believe Clay was responsible. That was Virge: She always thought the best of people she liked, wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. She was making a decision in the bar, to confront Clay and give him a chance to explain. And sometime on Sunday afternoon or evening she slipped out of the house and went to his cabin.”
Guy nodded. “It works for me so far. Did he kill Virge at the cabin? Persuade her he had nothing to do with the girl’s death and then agree to accompany her to the canyon, as she’d asked him to before?”
“I’d say he killed her at the cabin, then took her body there, as he had Ackerman’s. Only this time he decided to stage an accident. Remember, there was only one set of footprints leading to the ledge, large ones made by Virge’s shoes. Virge had big feet; Clay could’ve put on her shoes, carried her there, and thrown her over.”
“The prints were deep, consistent with someone carrying a heavy load.”
“Right. Afterwards, Clay probably took a roundabout way down to the body, replaced the shoes, and made his way home across the stream on bare feet.”
“Okay,” Guy said, “that works for me too. Most of it does, except for a couple of details. Clay didn’t settle here because he met Becca Campos. He didn’t spend all his time reading, meditating, and hiking. And he didn’t pick up Ackerman on a whim.”
“Oh?” She realized she was about to hear something important, and sat down on the hearth beside him.
He said, “Clay came here deliberately, although probably coincidentally, at the time the guards were taken off the canyon. He spent a good deal of his time in a methodical search for Susan Wynne’s hidden money. And he went after Ackerman because he saw her find it.”
“But that would mean he knew—”
“Yes. The man in that photograph” — he motioned at the fax she still clutched — “is no stranger to Cascada Canyon. It was taken about a year before he first came there.”
“For God’s sake, Guy, who is he?”
“Bernhard Ulrick.”
Guy watched as Rhoda’s lips parted in astonishment. “But... Ulrick died with the others.”
“No, he didn’t.” He explained about his conversation with Oriana Harrison. “After I talked with her, I considered the physical evidence: The body in the drug lab was so badly shot up that it was unidentifiable, and the blood samples had disappeared. Did your department try to make an identification from fingerprints or dental records?”
“Yes. But Ulrick’s prints weren’t on file anyplace. And his teeth, well, there weren’t enough of them intact. We had to assume the body was his. If you’re right... who do you think died in the lab?”
“It’s always been taken for granted that there was more than one killer, right?”
“Right.”
“Suppose Ulrick lured his accomplice up the canyon on some pretext after the others were dead, and blew him away.”
Rhoda nodded slowly. “One of his drug dealing associates, then. We’ll probably never know his identity, unless Ulrick talks.”
“I think I know who the accomplice was.”
She blinked. “How could you?”
“Think about the things we felt in the canyon, Rhoda. We were so busy tapping into the victims’ feelings that we ignored the killers’ state of mind. But there is another strong emotion you feel there: anger. Ulrick was angry because the families had thrown him out when they learned he’d molested Oriana. Thrown him out before he could find the money. And the week before that, someone else left the canyon suddenly: Devon Wynne’s boyfriend. What if they threw him out too?”
“Why?”
“The biographical sketch of Devon that I have says she was addicted to abusive relationships. If this boyfriend beat her up while they were living with Forrest and Susan...”
“Yes, of course. If they threw him out, he would have been angry enough to join forces with Ulrick. Of course, Susan’s money was the real inducement. They planned to coerce her into telling where it was hidden.”
“Only Susan wouldn’t tell them. She knew she was going to die anyway, and she was buying time for her children. Ulrick probably never expected to wait all these years before he could look for it. But I wonder why he didn’t find it, in a methodical year-long search.”
Guy shrugged. “He didn’t know or had forgotten about the oil sump. Ackerman knew where the money was from her mother, but before she dug it up, it was buried under thirteen years’ worth of pine needles.”
Rhoda’s small face grew still and thoughtful. After a moment she glanced at her watch. “God, I wish Lincoln County would call about that warrant. I want Ulrick in custody tonight.”
A memory stirred in the back of Guy’s mind. As it moved to the forefront, alarm brought him to his feet. “Forget the warrant. Better go after Ulrick right away.” He explained about Becca’s plans to travel with him to Reno that night.
Rhoda went quickly to the phone, dialed, and asked for Detective Grossman. “Try Detective Shepherd, then,” she said after a pause. “What?... Okay, thanks anyway.” She broke the connection, dialed again. “They’re on their way back here with the FBI agents who’ve been brought in,” she said to Guy. “I can’t waste time tracking them down.”
He listened as she called Central Dispatch and asked for backup to meet her at the cabin on the Scurlock property. When she hung up she told him, “Central says there’s a slide on the highway up near Deer Harbor. People have been hurt and every available unit is on the scene, except for one down at Westhaven. Its ETA at the cabin is forty minutes, but I’m going on ahead—”
“I’m going with you.”
“No you’re not.”
“Don’t waste time arguing with me.”
She scowled, then grabbed her bag and jacket and headed for the door. “Come on, if you must.”
As she got into the cruiser, Rho keyed the mike and let Central know she was proceeding. Guy hadn’t shut his door when she gunned the powerful vehicle down her driveway.
She said, “When we get to the cabin, I want you to stay in the car and keep low, in case he’s armed.”
“But—”
She didn’t need civilian interference now! “This is my job, Guy. I can handle it.”
“...Okay. Your call.”
She sped south through town, past a TV crew filming in front of the hotel. The media frenzy that had begun earlier was at full strength. Once they were into forestland, the dripping trees compounded the rain. It was coming down so hard now that the wipers couldn’t clear it fast enough. Mud oozed across the road from the eastern upslope; on one patch she braked too sharply, skidded, and had to fight to bring the car out of it. Guy had momentarily closed his eyes — maybe praying for the first time in his life.
She tromped on the accelerator as they neared the entrance to the canyon, urging more speed from the cruiser on the straightaway. The tires started to slide on the blind curve above Point Deception, but she corrected and held them to the road. She leaned forward, trying to see the centerline. As they came up on the Scurlock driveway, a pair of headlights appeared.