“What happened, Ryan?”
“I heard. Sam Harris told my parents that Uncle Davy was the Butcher. But I didn’t believe it. I mean, he’s my friend.”
Miranda’s heart went out to the poor kid. His world was crashing around him just like hers had.
“I saw Uncle Davy last night. Camping in the south meadow. He does that sometimes. Or at the cabin.”
“Cabin?”
“We have a cabin right at Big Sky Lake. We go fishing and stuff. Uncle Davy stays there.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“Of course.” He rattled off an address.
“Maybe he’s there,” Miranda said to Booker. “We need to call Quinn.”
Ryan shook his head vigorously. “No. No, he’s not. I saw him. And the buckle.”
“What buckle?”
“I thought it looked familiar. The bird. But I didn’t remember. Then I saw him coming up from the canyon, and I just knew. I looked at his belt, and it wasn’t there. He had a horse or something, not the bird he always wore.” Ryan pulled a broken belt buckle from his pocket. “Just like this one.”
Miranda was confused. “You took this from him? Why?”
Ryan looked down at his hands, turned the piece of metal over and over. “I didn’t take it. I found it near the body of that girl who was killed. The next day I went back and watched you all.”
His voice was rough with tears and he backhanded his face to wipe them away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to take it, I just found it. I wanted to tell my dad, but I thought he’d be mad that I went back there. So I hid it in my room.
“But after I saw my uncle today and realized the buckle was his, I ran home to get it.” Ryan sniffed. “He was acting so strange. He wasn’t happy to see me. He had his rifle. And a knife. I think he killed her.”
Miranda’s stomach lurched in her chest. “Where is he now?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I told him I was just riding and saw his gear and had to get back home. My mom and dad were fighting, so I came here because it was the closest.”
“You did good, Ryan.” She stood. “Can you take us to where you saw your uncle?”
Ryan nodded. “You can drive most of the way there.”
“Good.” She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Quinn’s number.
Quinn answered, but his voice was cut off.
“Dammit!” She tried again, and this time got his voice mail. “Quinn, call me. I have Ryan Parker with me and he knows where Larsen is.” She looked at Ryan. “Where?”
“The south meadow. About a mile behind my house. There’s a path.”
“South meadow behind the Parker house. I’m going there now. Meet me there, Quinn.” She slapped her phone shut. “Ryan, I know where that is. I don’t want you coming. It’s too dangerous.”
“But-”
“No. Stay here. I’m going to take you to Gray so you can take care of your horse.” She stared at him. “Anything else?”
He nodded. “Uncle Davy came up from the canyon on the far side of the meadow. At the very bottom there’s a boulder field and creek.”
“I’ve been down there.”
“I don’t know why he’d go down there.”
Miranda did.
Sitting in Parker’s living room, Quinn Peterson explained to Richard Parker his theory about David Larsen.
“But why do you need to talk to Delilah? We see Davy at holidays and for the occasional fishing trip, but Delilah never talks about her brother. They had a difficult childhood and they aren’t that close.”
“Did Delilah ever tell you her brother was arrested for rape?”
Richard looked stunned. “No.”
“Sixteen years ago in Oregon. The charges were dropped when the victim refused to testify, and Larsen had an alibi: his sister.”
“So Davy must have had nothing to do with it.”
“The woman’s breasts were cut.”
Quinn watched the realization hit Richard then. “But-Delilah? Protecting him? I-I just don’t see it. My wife isn’t an affectionate person, Mr. Peterson. She’s hard to get close to. I don’t see her lying for anyone, even her brother.”
“What about to protect herself?”
“Excuse me?” Parker’s tone bordered between angry and confused.
While driving to the Parker Ranch, Quinn had talked to Hans Vigo, the FBI profiler. Vigo’s gut feeling was that Delilah Parker not only had protected her brother when he was accused of rape in Oregon, but also was aware of his crimes in Montana.
“He hunts in his sister’s hometown, while he lives hours away,” Quinn told Parker, repeating what Vigo had told him. “Either he does it to torment her, a threat to keep her mouth shut, or he does it because this is his home. If your wife doesn’t know for sure, she’s definitely suspected from the beginning.”
Parker buried his head in his hands. “My son-I let my son go fishing with that bastard. I let him eat at my table and sleep in my house! I gave him a cabin to stay in, paid for his education, took care of him like a brother.” He pounded a fist on the coffee table hard enough to cause several knickknacks to jump.
Quinn zeroed in on an important point. “Judge, you gave him a cabin?”
“Thirty minutes south of here. Almost to Yellowstone.”
“I need to see it. Now. Can you take me there?”
“Absolutely. Anything to help.”
Quinn’s cell phone rang. “Peterson,” he said.
“He… anda.”
“Miranda? You’re breaking up.” Then the phone went dead.
“It’s the house,” Parker said. “You can go outside and get reception.”
“Where’s your wife now?”
“She left after Sam Harris came by. She was very upset by this whole thing with Davy.”
“Sam Harris was here?”
Quinn listened to what Harris had told Parker. “I’m sorry, Judge, but I need to bring her in. Either she has information we need about where her brother is, or we need to protect her. I can’t let her walk the streets. Not until I have her brother in custody.”
He stepped out of the house and dialed dispatch to issue a detain order for Delilah Parker and find out if Sam Harris had called in. He hadn’t. Dammit. He told the dispatcher to tell all on-duty cops that Harris was oficially removed from the Butcher investigation and wanted for obstructing justice. Quinn couldn’t allow Harris to further screw up their search for Larson.
Richard Parker followed him out. “Ready?” Quinn asked the judge.
“I’ll take you there.” They climbed into the police-issue SUV that Deputy Jorgensen drove. Parker gave him directions.
“Tell me exactly where. I’m going to call in a team to meet us.” Quinn needed everyone he could get.
Ten minutes later he’d finished his calls, including one to his boss to fill him in on the status. When he slammed shut his cell phone, his voice mail beeped. He dialed in and listened.
“Turn around,” he told Parker, his voice strained.
“What? Why?”
“We’re going back to your house. The fastest you can get us there, Jorgensen.
“Your son saw David Larsen there less than an hour ago.”
CHAPTER 30
Davy Larsen watched from an upstairs window as Miranda Moore and a cop walked around the outside of the house. Then they left.
But they didn’t go back down the drive. Instead, they headed toward the meadow.
Ryan, his own flesh and blood, had ratted him out.
How could the kid do that? Hadn’t he loved him like a big brother? Ryan had the perfect life, the life Davy never had. But that was okay. It wasn’t like Davy was jealous or anything. No.
Why did he go to her? To tell Miranda where to find him?
No good. He couldn’t let them get his girl. Ashley was his, and he wasn’t done with her yet.
The Bitch was leaving, and that was fine with him. He didn’t need her.
She’d never understood. She’d stood there and watched, excited and agitated, never interfering with him when he had the stage. But she gloated and made cryptic comments.