Waking the Dead Part 6

Going back to bed wasn't an option. She'd never been able to fall back to sleep once up. Instead she rose and padded over to the missing persons printouts lying on the table in the corner of the room.

It took over two hours to go through them all. Another fifteen minutes to decide which to follow up on first. The bodies could presumably come from anywhere, but she had to start somewhere, so she'd concentrate first on those persons originating in neighboring states who'd gone missing in the last decade. She jotted down the phone numbers to the law enforcement agencies before checking the time again. Probably still too early to try any of them now. But she could make some calls while she drove.

Rising, she headed toward the shower. She'd planned another long day at the lab trying to lift those latents, but she could afford a detour first.

Because she wouldn't be satisfied until she'd gotten a soil sample from Sharper's property.

A fine mist started falling about halfway to McKenzie Bridge. Oregon suns.h.i.+ne, she'd heard it called, but rain was rain to her. She just hoped it stopped before she got to Sharper's place.

She filled her time on the drive calling the various agencies affiliated with the missing persons responses she'd gotten, mostly leaving messages for the case detectives she got routed to who were away from their desks. But she was able to have conversations with a few of them, like Detective Paul Drecker in Seattle.

"Raiker Forensics, huh? Heard of you guys. Met your boss at a conference once when he was still at the Bureau. Brilliant guy. Funny as h.e.l.l."

Funny? Adam Raiker? The description was baffling. But then Cait hadn't known him until years after the case that had nearly killed him and ended with his retiring from the FBI.

Drecker had already gone on. "Marissa Recinos you said?" She could imagine the man shaking his head on the other end of the line. "Not ringing a bell . . ."

"She was last seen five years ago in December, in Pike Place Market," Cait prodded. "Her mother reported her missing when she didn't show up for the family dinner the following Sunday."

"Yeah, yeah, Recinos. Now I remember that case. Never did find her. I always liked her ex for it, myself. Real a.s.shole, and it was a messy divorce. She's loaded and he felt like he got screwed on the alimony." He snorted. "Ever known a guy to get alimony? Someone should tell my two exes about that. Anyway, he'd made some threats a couple years earlier."

"He was alibied?"

"Airtight. So your remains are Hispanic?"

"All the remains are minus the skulls, so I can't determine ancestry. But I wondered whether she had skeletal identifiers."

"Yeah, guess that description of her tat isn't doing you much good, huh? Well, let me check into it and get back to you. I'll probably have to call her mother. What exactly should I be asking about?"

"Her medical history. Did she ever suffer a fracture and to which bone. How long ago." The remains in question had a fracture to the left wrist that must have occurred within the final year of her life. She paused and thought a moment. "Also ask her if Recinos had osteoarthritis. If her knees bothered her. Any Xrays in her medical files. Anything I could possibly use to validate the remains."

"I'll ask. Can I get you at this number?"

"Yes, or feel free to email me." Cait gave him her work email address.

"Will do. I'll get back to you."

The rest of the calls filled the driving time. After they were finished, her complete attention was required to recall exactly where Sharper's place was.

She had a photographic memory for anything she read. It had certainly made academics a whole lot simpler. But when it came to directions . . . not so much. She'd backtracked several times before giving up and driving to the Springs Resort, and then trying to find her way from there.

She was more successful this time, although she missed the narrow drive to his place once and had to turn around yet again. When she came to a chain barring her approach on the drive, for the first time she considered what she'd do if the guide happened to be home today.

With an eye to the sky, she decided that was a long shot. It didn't look like it had rained here, although the clouds overhead looked ominous. And with all the b.i.t.c.hing he'd done about being kept from his business, she couldn't believe that he wouldn't already be in Eugene. It was after ten already.

Grabbing her pack, she locked the vehicle and hiked the rest of the way up the drive, marveling again at the private area. She'd dropped by the Lane County Courthouse before taking off this morning. According to the a.s.sessor's office, Sharper's property encompa.s.sed twenty-five acres and was worth upwards of a million dollars.

The amount alone was brow raising. He'd said something about inheriting the land from his grandfather, she recalled, as she strode rapidly up the drive. Pretty nice inheritance. And the house he was building wasn't exactly a shack, either.

On foot, it took fifteen minutes before the house came into view. Cait stopped to scan the area. There was no sign of Sharper's Trailblazer. The battered red pickup she'd seen here before was parked in the same spot. The place had a deserted air.

Pulling the NRCS map out of her pack, she studied it for a few moments before raising her narrowed gaze to his property again. If she established a grid and took samples from each corner and random points in the center of it, that'd still put her back at the morgue by one or so. Cait shoved the map back into her pack and continued walking. She'd start in the back of the property and work her way forward.

She was on her fourth sample before she ran across a small hot spring. Compared to the ones Sharper had chauf feured her to, it wasn't much more than a trickle. It was the smell that gave it away. If she were the fanciful type, she'd say it brought images of brimstone. Water erupted from the earth in wide cracks and then disappeared back into the ground after several feet before making a surprise appearance again. She imagined it coursed freely well beneath the surface, and made a note to research the acts of nature that had formed this land. Despite her mother's lifelong efforts to pretend otherwise, she was a science geek at heart, whether she looked the part or not.

She was going to end up with more samples than she'd originally planned, but she worked swiftly, still intent on making it back to the lab in time to start the latent testing. One moment she was carefully inserting her core sample into a plastic container and labeling it. The next a voice sounded behind her.

"It's a world-cla.s.s a.s.s. But I still want to know what it's doing on my property."

s.h.i.+t. Her eyelids slid shut in chagrin. If the voice didn't give him away, the note of derision in it would have. Cait finished placing the sample in her pack before rising to face him.

Temper lent Sharper a lethal air that was all the more chilling for the grim watchfulness in his eyes. Surliness she was used to. But there was more here than she'd observed the other times she'd seen him. He looked like he hadn't slept. He sure as h.e.l.l hadn't shaved. Given the smell emanating from him, she'd bet he'd spent the time instead marinating in alcohol.

Caution settled over her. Because this was a Sharper she wasn't familiar with. Her mind flashed back to her earlier conversation with Raiker about the guide's time in the military. Silent and deadly. Silent, she could attest to. His approach had been soundless until he'd spoken. Deadly . . . if his expression was anything to go by, she was on very thin ice.

Expertly, she skated over it. "I didn't know you were home."

"Guess you wouldn't since you didn't bother to knock." His gaze traveled to her open pack, then back to her face. "I know you have a phone, so that can't be the reason you didn't call, either."

"I figured you'd be at work."

"I'll bet you did," he murmured. Folding his arms across his T-s.h.i.+rt-clad chest, he added, "As a matter of fact, I figure that's why you came. I don't know about the laws where you come from, Slim, but around here we call this trespa.s.sing."

The figurative ice beneath her feet cracked a bit. "Be reasonable. Your vehicle wasn't in the drive. You're always harping about the business I'm keeping you from, so I figured you must have a tour." She waited a beat. "Why aren't you at work?"

There was a flash of something in his eyes, there and gone so quickly she might have imagined it, if she didn't make a habit of observing things like that. He bared his teeth. "I was on the Willamette for eight hours yesterday. I spent another four cleaning gear and putting it away. My employees are running three tours today and needed my vehicle. Anything else you want to know?"

Her usual flawless sense of self-preservation failed her. What she needed to know was how to get out of there without losing a limb. But instead she found herself wondering what had put that bleakness in his expression. The one that reminded her of a gaunt lone wolf, howling his pain at an uncaring moon.

"I'm sorry I bothered you." And she was. Sorry she hadn't picked another day, another time to put to rest the niggling suspicion before it could fully form. Sorry she'd seen a side to him that made him all too human. It was far easier to deal with Sharper when she didn't feel a tug of pity for him. She lifted her pack and shrugged into it. "I'll get out of your way and let you enjoy your time off."

Cait didn't get two steps before his fingers closed on the strap of her pack and yanked her to a halt. "I don't think so. Not before providing me with a few answers. And anything else I ask for."

The innuendo was unmistakable. Pulling away from his grasp, she turned to face him, anger pulsing. "Don't be a jerk, Sharper. I haven't hurt anything. I apologize for not getting your permission before looking around. Mea culpa, okay?"

"It's not okay." His voice was silky smooth now, with the slash of temper layered just beneath it. "Not until you tell me what the h.e.l.l you thought you'd find here."

She hesitated, mentally flipping through her options. She doubted he'd cry foul to Andrews. And even if he did, the most she'd get was a hand slap from the sheriff. But she wasn't willing to share any details from the case, either.

"How about I make it easy for you? I've been carting you around to all the hot springs in the area, and you've been taking soil samples. That map in your pack"-he flicked it with his finger-"shows the location of different kinds of soils. You must be looking for a kind found near hot springs. I've got one on the property, although it's hardly on the same level as the ones you've already visited." He released his grip on the strap and stepped back a pace. "Since the distinctive element in hot springs is sulfur, you must have found sulfur on some of the bones, and that's why you're taking samples from every G.o.dd.a.m.n piece of land you can access. Legally or not."

Ignoring his obvious exaggeration, she nodded. It wasn't exact, but he was close enough to the truth for it not to matter at this point. "Something like that."

Her affirmation didn't lighten his expression any. If anything, it grew more menacing. "And what? I found the bones, I've got sulfuric soil on my property, so I must be a killer? Sounds pretty thin to me, but then I'm not some cover girl for a cop shop out east, so what do I know?"

He had a knack for igniting her temper. "Very little, from where I'm standing." And sighed inwardly when she saw his eyes narrow. With effort, she reached for patience. "You want to deny me access to your land? That's your right. Want to insist I give back the soil samples? Can't stop you. I'll note that in my report and move on."

His glare would have struck sparks off flint. "Make sure you get permission at the next place, sweetheart. People around here value their privacy."

Cait gave him an insincere smile. "So you've said. I'll let you know when I need your help again. I a.s.sume you're still at the sheriff's beck and call?"

It was like baiting a tiger. He had that same still watchful air prior to pouncing. "Caitlin."

Her flesh p.r.i.c.kled. How could a man's voice manage to sound silky and menacing at the same time?

"You'll want to be very careful." The first step in her direction was meant to be threatening. The next would have had any woman in her right mind making tracks.

She held her ground, stiffened her spine.

"You're on an isolated piece of property."

She could smell the alcohol again. Not on his breath. More like it was coming out his pores. How much had he drunk? He didn't seem intoxicated. He d.a.m.ned sure didn't appear impaired.

He just seemed lethal.

"No one around to help you." Another half step. Alarm pulsed through her veins. Every muscle in her body tensed. "With a man you really don't know very well."

Coolly, she lifted a brow. "Worried about me? Don't be. I've taken down bigger men than you without breaking a sweat. Back off."

"Or what?" One of his arms snaked around her waist, the hand skating down her spine. Lower.

"Sharper, if you don't take your hand off my a.s.s, you're going to be picking your teeth out of the dirt."

"So you've had training to take men down hard. Think that makes you tough? Lots of us had training." His words filtered through her anger, piquing her interest. But that interest was fragmented by the recognition that he hadn't moved his hand. And his face was far too close to hers. "Here's the thing about toughness, though. No matter what you think you're prepared for, there's always something that smashes everything you think you know to h.e.l.l. Everything you think you can handle."

"I'm warning you, Sharper." But even she heard the shake to her voice. His words were summoning a memory she'd spent a lifetime locking away. The darkness eeked out. Swirled through her mind.

"You find out how tough you are when you're dodging men's body parts after an IED detonates." The edge to his voice was razor sharp, each word nicking skin and drawing blood. "Or when you inhale the pink mist, all that's left of the guy who was the closest to the explosive. One of the toughest guys I knew swallowed his gun last night because, hey, guess what? Toughness didn't mean s.h.i.+t when they sent him home minus his legs and half his face. Ever see what's left of a guy who eats his gun?"

The past sprang forth like a great fanged beast, snarling and tearing through the gauze of the present.

She was eight again. Fingers in her ears. Cowering under the desk until the weapon went off. Choking back strangled sobs as she crawled out. Did what she had to do.

Just get the gun. Remember what I told you. Don't look at anything else. Don't look.

But of course she had. How could she not? And the image had been seared on her retinas, branded across her memory ever since.

"Blood spatter everywhere. Bone fragments in the chair cus.h.i.+ons. Caught in the drapes. Gray matter on the desk. On the gun."

The gun she'd had to pick up. The one she'd had to hide in the special place he'd shown her.

She wasn't sure how much time stretched out before she became aware of the change in Sharper's gaze. On his expression. It was another long moment before she realized she'd spoken the words out loud.

Mortification warred with panic. She wrenched herself from his grasp. Easy enough since he'd dropped his hands, stepped away, still surveying her carefully.

"Cait."

"I have to get back."

With swift movements, she straightened the straps on her shoulders and turned. Began striding rapidly away. And slowed, her steps faltering. Looking over her shoulder, she found him watching her. "I'm sorry about your friend."

Then she headed toward her vehicle, leaving the man behind to stare silently after her.

a Uploaded by Coral a

Chapter 6.

"Cait , where are you?"

"Coming up on the morgue, why?"

Barnes's voice held a note of excitement she didn't recall hearing before. "Good. I'm already there. See you in a few minutes."

Disconnecting the phone's blue tooth, she gave a shrug and turned off into the morgue parking lot. She drove to the back of the building, the area closest to the lab accommodations.

It had started to mist again on the outside of town. Which mirrored her current att.i.tude to perfection.

Her mood dark, she got out of the vehicle, loaded down with pack and purse and computer bag. Locking the door behind her, she jogged to the building.

Barnes started speaking as soon as she was in the door. "One of our deputies found this in the forest wrapped in a towel, about four miles from Castle Rock."

This turned out to be a saw. Flecks of blood still marred the stainless steel blade. And, she peered closely, there were splinters of what would surely turn out to be bone embedded in the towel.

"Looks like an E-Z Saw. The kind used for splitting the pelvic bone of large game." She looked at Barnes. "Did the officer happen to notice a blood spill near the site where he found this?"

The deputy shook his head. "That's why I brought it to you. He said this was wedged under some rocks. It's a long shot, but I figured you could test it. At least see if the blood is human."

Mentally readjusting her schedule, she nodded. "We can do that and have results by tomorrow. We already know some sort of saw was used to decapitate the victims. I need to examine the marks on the vertebrae and try to identify the family of instruments they came from anyway. I can do that before testing for latents, I guess."

"If I know the specific tool, I can start looking at purchases made around here recently. Maybe we'll get lucky and find the perp that way."

She smiled, saying nothing. Cait had a feeling things weren't going to be quite that easy, but Barnes was right about one thing. The tool marks were going to be valuable information. Once they found the offender, they could link him to the crimes if he still had the saw in his possession.

"Kristy," she called.

Her tech showed up in the doorway of the other room. Cait blinked once. Beneath her lab coat, the woman was clad in an eye-popping s.h.i.+rt of electric blue and fuchsia. "Bad lighting when you were getting dressed?"

"Bite me," Kristy suggested cheerfully. "Steve bought it for me. We went to a country fair last night outside Springfield. He said it matched my electric personality."

"Were you by any chance sticking a screwdriver in a light socket at the time?"