It was like slow motion to Alan, as he saw the silhouette turn towards him in the glare of the light. Alan saw what looked like a long barrel pointing at him. “Gun!” His finger instantly squeezed the trigger.
Boom! Boom!
Thrown backward, the silhouette then fell and lay motionless in the mud as the shots echoed throughout the barn. Each of the mules simultaneously filled the once empty air with complaining grunts and whinnies. Alan ran to the door with his gun ready and peered around the corner as the echo of the shots faded.
With all senses fully alert, Alan paused watching for a long moment, but nothing happened. No sound or movement came from the cabin. Alan turned and ran to the back of the barn. “Stay here,” he told Chet as he ran past him and out the back door. Chet watched Alan through his camera as he made his way around the corral, then across the road to the side of the cabin. Alan moved to the back of the house and disappeared behind it.
Chet turned his attention to the body. With the camera rolling, he walked over toward it. Chet panned the scene with the camera then stopped when the body filled his viewfinder. “Oh my gosh,” Chet said softly to himself. He slowly lowered the camera and looked around in shock. At that moment, Alan walked out the front door of the cabin and onto the porch, looking around. When he saw Chet standing next to the body, Alan holstered his pistol and started walking over to him.
“There’s nobody else here,” Alan said as he approached. With a pale expression, Chet looked at Alan and didn’t say anything. “What’s wrong? Haven’t you seen a dead body before?” Alan said to his friend.
“Alan,” Chet replied. “There’s no gun.”
“What?” Alan replied in disbelief as he looked down at the body. “But I saw…” His words trailed off as he frantically looked around. As the shocking realization of what just happened hit him, Alan slowly stepped back and leaned against the barn.
“Oh no!” Alan was horrified as he crouched next to the barn and put his hands over his face. A few moments later, his hands slowly came away from his face and he stared at the body lying in the mud. Instantly, his whole career flashed before his eyes.
Alan had no sympathy for drug smugglers, so he felt no remorse for killing Henderson. He was, however, gravely concerned about his career. In each of his other controversial stunts, his actions had been excused because of technicalities. He had claimed that during the normal course of doing his job, he had come across suspicious circumstances, investigated, and found himself in a situation where he had to take immediate action without backup. It ended up being a case of his word against someone else’s.
This time it was different. He clearly came down here on his own without notifying his superiors even though he had plenty of time to do so. In other cases, his actions were justified because there were always a huge amount of drugs to prove guilt and the dead men had guns. He was able to claim “just cause”.
Alan looked down at Henderson’s body lying in the mud. No gun and no drugs. He had to find the drugs, that would justify being here. As far as Henderson’s death was concerned, he could then excuse it as being an accident. At the time he pulled the trigger, he truly believed he was in danger and acted in self defense.
But he needed the drugs. Alan, again, looked down at Henderson and shook his head in despair as thoughts raced though his mind. If only the light wasn’t in his eyes. If only he had recognized the pitchfork for what it was. If only… That thought trailed off in his mind.
He saw his plan of solving this case quickly and easily fade. He had counted on interrogating Henderson. Having him lead Alan to the drugs and anyone else involved. Alan wanted it clean and neat, but that was now impossible.
He’d now have to do it the hard way—find a clue and let one clue lead him to another then another until he found the drugs. Find the drugs and you’ve found your case, he told himself. Find the drugs, and you can spin the killing anyway you want.
They both stood there in silence for what seemed like forever, Alan thinking while Chet was just in shock. Chet finally spoke out and stated the obvious. “Alan, you just killed an unarmed man carrying a pitchfork.”
“I couldn’t see. The sun was in my eyes.” Alan defended himself. “You saw what happened. I thought it was a rifle.” Chet didn’t say anything. He just stared at the body with a distant look on his face. “I’ll tell you one thing,” Alan said. “I’m not going to let the death of a drug smuggler ruin my career.”
“What?!” Chet said angrily. “You just killed a man in cold blood and all you can worry about is your career.”
“It was an accident! It could’ve happened to anyone.”
“This wouldn’t have happened if you would’ve come down here with proper back up like you are supposed to,” Chet said angrily. “But no! You’ve got to be the Lone Ranger!”
“Oh yeah! My operating style doesn’t bothered you when you get a big story from it!” Alan shot back angrily. “If this ruins my career, you can forget about any more exclusives!” Chet didn’t answer. He slowly walked past the body and stared out at the lake in a daze.
After a few moments, Alan realized that arguing was unconstructive and stepped over to him. “Listen,” he said in a calm voice trying to smooth the waters. “This isn’t that bad. If we can prove he was a drug smuggler nobody will care how he died.” Chet just stared out at the water as if he wasn’t listening. “I’m going to need your help, Chet, if I’m going to be able to prove that.”
Alan was right. He always was, Chet decided. No one would care and the impact this situation would have on his career could be devastating. He had to do everything possible to help, he knew. He could do this. With Alan’s help, they had been able to manipulate other situations successfully. Granted, nothing as severe as this, but he was confident they could pull it off.
It would be the ultimate test of his journalistic, spin-doctor talents, and he was looking forward to the challenge. After a moment Chet slowly turned around. “What do you want me to do?”
Alan was relieved. “We have to search this place for the drugs,” he stated decisively.
“Where should we start?”
Alan looked around. “Let’s start with the barn. Maybe we can figure out what he was doing in there.” Alan stepped past the body and back into the doorway of the barn before turning back towards Henderson questioningly. “Where did you hide the opium?” he asked, almost as if interrogating the dead.
Standing in the same spot that Henderson was when he was shot, Alan noticed what the impact of the two bullets had done to him. The impact threw Henderson’s body nearly ten yards away, to where it now lay in the mud. He was dead before he hit the ground. Standing back from this prospective, Alan could see clearly the entire area surrounding the body.
“I thought we were going in the barn?” Chet asked.
Alan wasn’t listening. He just stared out at the body as if waiting for an answer to his question. Without consciously being aware of it, Alan’s eyes followed a set of lines in the mud that Henderson’s body was laying across. He followed them from the body, out and around in front of the house, then up the road.
Chet was about to say something, then saw the new look on his friends face and instantly froze. He had been with Alan for many years and knew this look all too well. Gears were turning in Alan’s mind, and this look was always followed by something brilliant.
Perhaps that’s the first clue leading to the answer to my question, Alan thought as he slowly stepped forward to take a closer look at the body. Henderson’s body lay directly in the center of a set of tire tracks. One of Henderson’s arms laid outstretched with a hand and finger in position pointing at the tracks, almost as if trying to tell Alan something. The tracks were crisp and clear. Perhaps dead men can talk, Alan thought with a smile. “Someone was here this morning, before we arrived.”
“What? How do you know that?” Chet asked curiously as he looked aroun
d for the answer.
Chet still didn’t get it and the blank stare told Alan so. “I thought reporters were supposed to be observant. Can’t you see those tire tracks?”
Chet stepped forward and looked. “Well, yes I can, but I guess I didn’t pay any attention to them.”
“Look at them,” Alan said as he stepped out of the way so Chet could see clearly. “They come down the road, circle in front of the house, and stop right here in front of the barn. It looks like our friend had an early morning visitor.”
“How can you tell when it was?”
“Because of the rainstorm last night. Look at how distinct the tracts are. They had to be made after the rain stopped, otherwise they would be…”
“—washed out.” Chet finished it for him.
“And look here,” Alan said as he pointed at the ground. “There appears to be some large tracts and some smaller ones. Probably a truck with a trailer attached. I’ll bet you ten to one…” Alan said as he pulled out a pen from his inside jacket pocket, and knelt by the smaller track.
“Bet me what?” Chet asked.
Alan stuck the end of the pen into the track and marked the depth. He then walked over to the same tire track, before it had stopped in front of the barn. “The trailer track is almost a half inch deeper when it left than when it came in.”
“So whoever came here loaded up the trailer with something.”
“Exactly,” Alan said as he stood up. “And what would be so important to move that it had to be done before the sun came up in a rainstorm.”
“Drugs!” Chet exclaimed.
“And where did the drugs come from?”
“The barn!”
“Now you’re catching on.” Alan smiled. “I’ll make an investigative reporter out of you yet.”
“You’re better than Dick Tracy!” Chet exclaimed with a smile, and then corrected his friend. “That’s journalist—investigative journalist.”
“Whatever. Let’s check the barn, I want to know what he was doing in there.”
The two men walked away from the body and into the barn. Even though the barn was lit up by the morning sun, they used their flashlights in order to see into the shadows. Chet walked the entire length of the barn waving his flashlight at the rafters and looking into the stalls. The mules again moved nervously as he did so.
“I think it’s obvious what he was doing,” Chet said as he stared at the bucket of oats spilled on the ground. “He was feeding the animals.”
“That may be true, but there was something else going on as well,” Alan said as he crouched by the straw pile.
Chet walked over to him. “What did you find?”
Alan didn’t answer. He stood up, walked to the door, and looked outside. “Uh-huh, that’s it,” he said. After a moment, he turned around and walked back to Chet.
“What’s it?”
Alan knelt down and pointed his flashlight at the corner. “See how the straw is crushed down here. There was something here, and now it’s gone. It looks like we just missed the shipment.” Alan shook his head in disappointment. “I knew we had to get down here quickly, but I didn’t anticipate them closing up shop so soon.” He couldn’t do anything about that now, and decided not to dwell on it.
“Let’s check the house.” Alan stood, walked out of the barn, and towards the cabin. The two men walked over to the cabin and onto the porch. “Take off your shoes.” Alan ordered as he kicked off his slip-on loafers. “I don’t want to dirty things up anymore than we have to.” Chet did as he was told, then entered the front door behind Alan.
“This place is a real pit,” Chet said. Alan didn’t answer as his eyes gazed around the room. “What are we looking for?” Chet asked as he, too, looked around.
“Well…” Alan replied, walking to the coffee table. “For starters, something like this.”
“Two coffee cups– someone else was here.” Chet confirmed.
“It looks like Henderson knew him well enough to invite him in for coffee,” Alan commented.
“By the way the handles are turned, it looks like one man was right handed and the other left handed.”
“Is that important?” Chet asked.
“Probably not, but you never know. Ah, crap!” Alan exclaimed as he stepped on a glob of mud that had fallen on the floor from his shoes the first time he came through from the back way. Alan pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the mud from his stocking foot. “I’d better clean this stuff up before we have it all over the house. Whatever you do, don’t touch those cups. We may be able to get some finger prints off them,” Alan ordered, then walked into the kitchen.
Chet looked around the living room and stopped in front of the bookcase where something caught his attention. “That’s it!” he exclaimed as he reached for and removed a book from the shelf.
“What’s it?” Alan asked excitedly, as he returned from the kitchen with a broom and dustpan.
“Where I remember the name Morton from! This is one of the places where the Feds looked for D.B. Cooper,” Chet answered.
“Oh,” Alan said, disappointedly as he returned to what he was doing.
“Who’s D.B. Cooper?”
“Don’t you remember the hijacking that everyone was talking about when we were kids?”
“Oh yeah, that guy.” Alan recalled as he bent over to sweep some mud into the pan.
“This book, called Sky Pirate, discusses the whole case. It was written by Special Agent Richard Blake of the FBI. He was the man who headed up the search for Cooper. I read it in college and it totally fascinated me. When I was senior class president, I arranged for Blake to give a talk on the subject at the college.”
“What is it all about, anyway?” Alan asked.
“Well, back in the early seventies, a man purchased a ticket under the name of Dan Cooper and boarded a plane in Portland bound for Seattle.”
“I thought you said his name was ‘D.B. Cooper’?” Alan interrupted.
“It was really Dan, but the press reported it wrong and the name D.B. just stuck.” replied Chet.
“The press screwed something up? Imagine that,” Alan said, sarcastically.
Chet ignored his friend and continued. “When the plane was in the air, Cooper told the stewardess he had a bomb in the small case he was carrying, and that he would detonate it if his demands weren’t met. When the plane landed in Seattle, Cooper let all of the passengers go in exchange for two hundred thousand dollars and a parachute. He than ordered the plane to take off in the dark and fly to Reno with only himself, the flight crew and the stewardess on board.
Blake already had a score of Agents in planes and helicopters in the air along the flight route. Cooper ordered the pilot to fly low and slow and told the stewardess to stay in the cockpit. He then lowered the rear steps of the plane and waited.”
“Waited for what?”
“Apparently for when they got to where he wanted to jump. From time to time, the stewardess slipped back to see if he was still there, and when she saw that he was gone the pilot radioed the tower and Blake and his men moved in quick.”
“So did they catch him?” Alan asked as he finished cleaning up the mud.
“No they didn’t. First of all there was a terrible storm in the area making it impossible to see the ground, and, secondly they couldn’t be certain of the exact jump site, since nobody actually saw him jump.”
“So what did they do?”
“Well they narrowed it down to three counties– Lewis, Cowlitz and Clark. Blake immediately notified the Sheriff’s departments of each County, and had them set up road blocks. He then landed in Portland and within hours had bases set up in each of the Sheriff’s offices. The road blocks didn’t turn up anything, so Blake brought three hundred soldiers from Fort Lewis to comb the hills.”
“Did they find him?” Alan asked as he walked back into the living room.
“No, not a trace,?
?? Chet answered. “That is, until a fisherman found some of the hijacked money washed up on the shore of the Cowlitz River down stream from here.”
“So what did Blake do?”
“Well, since there was no evidence found, Blake concluded that Cooper must have accidentally landed in the river, or one of the many lakes around here, and drowned taking the parachute and money with him to the bottom. Case closed.”
“That can’t be right,” Alan argued. “How can a man who is smart enough to pull off what would seem to be the perfect hijacking, cover his escape with a storm, but not plan exactly where he wanted to land? It just doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s exactly what I thought,” Chet replied. “So after Blake finished his talk I took him out to dinner and started feeding him drinks.”
“You got him drunk?”
“Mumble’n, stumble’n, bumble’n,” Chet laughed.
“So did he talk?”
“Of course he talked. Blake was a real tough nut to crack, but you know how persistent I get when I think someone’s holding out on a story.”
“Yeah, your inquiring mind wants to know.” Alan said jokingly. “So what did he say?”
“Well the drowning was the official report, but Blake doesn’t believe it. Apparently the investigation started off well, but quickly turned sour. Blake said that, with the road blocks and Army troops, they should have had Cooper trapped.”
“So what happened?” Alan asked, curiously.
“The case got such huge publicity that by the middle of the first day of the investigation, tourists, sightseers, and would be D.B. Cooper hunters started showing up. The local Sheriff’s departments were under staffed and not very well trained for the situation. They couldn’t keep the hordes of people out of the mountains.
Blake’s initial report stated that any evidence left behind by Cooper was probably either washed away by the many rainstorms or carried off by people looking for souvenirs. Blake thinks Cooper planted the money on the banks of the river, so that someone would find it, then just lost himself in the crowd and disappeared.”
“So why did he change the report?”
“It was politics. Blake said his superiors forced him to,” Chet replied. “Can you imagine what the FBI would look like if the public found out that a hijacker escaped right out from under their noses?”
“Yeah, heads would roll on all levels.”
“Exactly,” Chet confirmed. “They had no evidence to prove Cooper lived or died, no witnesses, and an operating budget already ten times the amount hijacked.”
“So Blake botches the investigation, comes up with a story that covers everyone’s butts, then makes a mint selling books and talking to college students?”
“Basically, yes.”
“What a sweet set up,” Alan acknowledged. “Did you ever publish your story?”
“No, Blake would’ve denied everything. Not even the tabloids would’ve touched it then,” Chet said. “Do you mind if I put some more wood on the fire? It’s a little cool in here.”
“Go ahead,” Alan agreed.
Chet walked over to the wood pile, picked up a couple of small logs, then knelt in front of the fire place and stacked them on the top the hot coals. As flames rose from the once smoldering ashes, Chet waved his hands over it warming them. Chet turned to see Alan opening the doors of the gun cabinet.
“What did you find?” Chet asked as he stepped over to Alan.
“It looks like Henderson had his own arsenal,” Alan replied. “He has shot guns, right handed bolt action rifles—that means Henderson is right handed so his friend must be the south paw. Wait a minute, look at this beauty.” Alan reached in and pulled out the M-16.
“A military assault rifle!” Chet exclaimed. “What kind is it?”
“It’s an M-16. It can fire semi-automatically or with a flip of a switch fully automatically,” Alan said as he handed it to Chet then turned back to the cabinet. “Hello! What do we have here?” Alan reached back into the cabinet.
Chet watched as Alan removed the machine gun. “What is that?”
“I’m not sure, exactly, but it’s definitely a machine gun,” Alan replied.
“Holy crap, Alan!” Chet exclaimed. “If Henderson would’ve had company here when we arrived, we wouldn’t have had a chance!”
“I suppose we should feel lucky that he’s laying in the mud and not us.” Alan could see the worried look on Chet’s face. “Relax. We’re not in any danger and we never were, so lets try to stay focused on what we’re here for.” Alan returned the rifles to the cabinet, and closed the door.
“All right, what do you want me to do?” Chet asked in a nervous, but controlled voice.
“We’ll have to split up. Otherwise this will take too long.” Alan then looked around. “You stay here and see what you can find. I’ll start with the rooms in back.”
“Sounds good.” Chet watched his friend walk past him and around the corner towards the bedrooms.
Jim was still along way off, but he could see the proprietor clearly. Anthony Marcellous had run the land fill for years. Covered from head to toe in rain gear, Jim thought he looked like a giant neon yellow warning sign. He would’ve thought Marcellous looked comical as he finished his chores, but Jim was just too tired to smile. Jim pulled up to a gate with a large sign, Lewis County Municipal Landfill, and honked the horn.
Jim watched as Marcellous moved quickly through the muddy slop towards the gate. Except for his face, not an inch was exposed. Boots, pants, coat, and gloves. Even his hat was pulled snug and tight down close to his eyes.
Jim didn’t blame him. Working with garbage in the rain had to be a messy job. The man unlatched the gate and slid it out of the way. Jim saw the concerned look on his face as he pulled forward a few feet and rolled down the window.
“What’s wrong with Buck?” Was the first thing out of the man’s mouth.
Jim didn’t feel like telling a long story so he kept it short. “Suburban problems. So Buck called me and, well, here’s your garbage.”
Anthony nodded then asked. “Did Buck have any problems with the bears?”
“None that he mentioned.”
Then Marcellous took a closer look at Jim. “You look terrible.”
“I feel terrible.” Jim was unusually grumpy this morning. No sleep and coffee on an empty stomach made him especially irritable. “Listen, I’m exhausted and have been up all night. Do you think we can take care of this so I can get some sleep?”
Marcellous looked at him with a sympathetic smile. “Tell you what, Jim. Why don’t you drive in and turn around? Leave the trailer here with me, then go home and get some rest. I’ll empty it out and you can pick it up next week when I get back.”
“Thanks, that’s awfully considerate of you.” Jim drove forward and pulled around in a large loop, then stopped.
Marcellous moved behind the Blazer, unlatched the trailer, then walked up to the driver’s side window. “Okay, you’re unhooked. Maybe next week we can get together with Buck and do some fishing. You know, like we used to.”
“Sure thing,” came the reply. Jim rolled up the window then slowly pressed down on the accelerator and drove out the gate. Marcellous waved goodbye, but Jim was too tired to notice.
Jim turned south onto highway seven then looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was seven-thirty, another hour and he would be back in Centralia. Jim pushed on the gas peddle to increase his velocity. He knew he shouldn’t drive so fast while tired, but he really wanted to get home. Jim turned on the radio for company as he drove.
Nikki flipped the eggs over in the pan then glanced out the window. Jim’s Blazer had just turned the corner and she could see it coming up the road. Finally, she thought, then returned to the frying pan. A few minutes later, the back door opened and Jim walked in.
“Ah!” Nikki said as she pointed at his muddy boots. “I just mopped this floor.” r />
Jim sat down and removed his boots as he watched her. She was wearing one of his oversized flannel shirts, a pair of his thick cotton socks, and her hair was out of place from laying on his pillow. She was just taking the eggs from the pan and putting them on the plate next to the toast when he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.
“Here, I made myself some breakfast, but you can have it,” she said as she turned around and saw the strange look on his face. “What are you looking at?”
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
“Oh, Jim, stop it,” she said with an embarrassed smile. “I’m a total mess.”
“No you’re not, you look wonderful.”
“Do you want the eggs or don’t you?” she said, changing the subject.
“No, you go ahead and eat it. I just want to get some sleep.”
“Then go. You must be exhausted.”
“All right, but don’t let me sleep too long, I need to get some paperwork done at the station.”
“All right,” she said, then she walked him to the bedroom.
“If the station calls, get me up right away.”
“I will, don’t worry.” He began to say something else, but she covered his mouth with her hand. “And if the sky starts to fall, I’ll wake you up.”
He smiled then leaned down and kissed her. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“I’ll be here,” she assured him, then watched him step into the bedroom and close the door behind him. Nikki turned around and walked into the dining room. She placed the plate on the table. As an after thought, she looked towards the bedroom for a moment and bit her thumb, then she looked toward the phone.
Jim needed his sleep more than he needed to get paperwork done, and she knew that nothing ever happened in this sleepy little town. Nikki made up her mind. She walked to the phone and disconnected its cord from the wall. Satisfied, she returned to the table, sat down, and started to eat her breakfast.
* * * *
Chapter 14
Deception