Long Road to Mercy Page 10
She called the number. On the second ring a person picked up.
She was Marjorie Parks, an assistant medical examiner with the FBI. Pine had worked with her before.
“Well, Atlee, I have to admit, I’ve never done a postmortem on a mule before. Well, technically with an animal it’s referred to as a necropsy. I guess I have you to thank for that.”
“Yeah, it was a first for me, too. What’d you find out?”
“The death wound was performed with a long-bladed knife with an upward angle, not quite a scythe shape, but something along those lines.”
“The letters on the hide?”
“They were done with a knife as well. Any idea what j and k refer to?”
“We did some research on our own and might have pulled up a lead.”
“Good luck on that.”
“So what drug was used on Sallie Belle?”
“Who told you about that?” said Parks in surprise. “I was saving that for last.”
“You’re not going to start cutting a half-ton mule without knocking it out first.”
“I’m sure. Okay, the tests show that the drug used was romifidine. It’s a sedative typically used in veterinary medicine with large animals, like horses and mules.”
“Okay, we know the how. Now the only questions are who and why.”
“And those are usually the toughest of all to answer.”
“It’s why I get paid the big bucks.”
CHAPTER
16
For some strange reason, Pine had a hard time deciding what to wear to meet Kettler for dinner and a beer.
“It’s not like you’ve never been on a date, Pine,” she said to herself, as she held up one outfit after another in front of the mirror tacked to the back of her closet door. “Though it has been a while.”
In the end, she settled on a sundress with a sweater on over it, and sandals. She’d carry her Glock in her purse and leave the Beretta home. She hoped the date wouldn’t warrant a backup weapon.
The drive there took only a few minutes. She saw the Jeep parked at the curb and looked at her watch. One minute to seven. Mr. Kettler apparently liked to be early.
She parked and went inside, immediately seeing him near the rear, because the place was so small. He rose and waved.
He was wearing jeans and an untucked white shirt that made his tan seem even deeper. The top button was undone, revealing smooth, bronzed skin. His short hair was a bit messy, like he’d just let the air dry it on the ride over. It only served to enhance his attractiveness, Pine thought.
In lieu of a formal handshake, they exchanged a brief hug.
As they sat down, he said, “You look different out of uniform. I mean a really nice different.” He lapsed into an embarrassed silence.
She let him linger there for just a few seconds before rescuing him. “Thanks. I’m not sure whether I like you better in the shorts and tank top or what you’re wearing now.”
They both laughed, and the ice was officially broken.
They ordered beers and then salad and pizza.
They clinked bottles, and each took a long sip.
He looked out the window. “You like living here?”
She shrugged. “It’s close to work. My office is right down the street.”
“Same building as ICE, right?”
“How’d you know?”
“They’ve been coming around the park a lot more. Rounding up illegals. I had to go over to their office a couple times to provide some information. And a bunch of us rangers have had to attend some conferences there.”
“Conferences? What about?”
“The best way I can say it is recognizing our duty as federal officers to notify them about illegals so they can come get them.”
“You don’t have any illegals working for the Park Service. They couldn’t pass the background check.”
“No, but we have contractors, landscapers, people working in the gift shops and restaurants, driving delivery trucks, that sort of thing.”
“Do you turn in many?”
“None so far. Hey, if they do something criminal, I’d be all over them. But if they work hard and keep their noses clean, I’m not getting in their business.”
“Sounds like a good philosophy to me. So, how long did you sleep after your run today?” She tacked on an impish grin.
“About as long as it took me to run the trails. I’m not getting any younger.”
“Special Forces to Park Service. Quite a segue.”
“Who told you about Special Forces?”
“Colson. He said someone you served with told him. Chest full of medals including the Purple Heart. Impressive.”
“It sounds a lot more impressive than it is.”
“How so? You were serving your country fighting in a war.”
Kettler finished his beer and waved at the waitress for another. After she brought it, he took a swig and said, “It wasn’t a war, Atlee.”
“What was it then?”
“I didn’t sign up to shoot . . . ” He abruptly stopped and looked away.
“Shoot what, Sam?”
“Nothing.” He was silent for a few moments. “Hey, let’s change the subject. I didn’t ask you out to talk about a stupid war.”
She studied him for a few moments. “You did your job, Sam. You did what you were supposed to. No more, no less. That’s all we can do.”
He looked up. “To answer your question, I joined the Park Service because it was all about protecting something worth protecting right here, in this country. I don’t pull my gun. I help people enjoy the Canyon. I wake up every day with that one purpose in mind. And it’s a great place. Puts a smile on my face every day.”
“And in your free time, you play Superman and run the trails,” she said, smiling.
He grinned back. “I’m sure you’ve done it, too.”
“I’ve hiked a lot of the trails. Never ran them, at least not like you.”
“It’s pretty damn exhilarating. Makes you feel great to be alive to experience it. I’d love to share that feeling with you.”
“Well, you might get what you wish for,” she replied warmly.
Their pizza and salad came, and they took a few minutes to eat while they chatted on topics ranging from local politics and relations with the Indian tribes to how a big hole in the ground was among the most dazzling sites on earth.
Finished with their meal, they drained their second beers and then went for a walk.
An ice cream truck rambled by with its bell tinkling, and on impulse Pine bought them both vanilla cones.
They strolled along, licking at their dessert while the night’s heat enveloped them.
It was hot enough, in fact, for Pine to take off her sweater and wrap it around her waist.
“Didn’t figure you for tats,” said Kettler, looking over her arms and delts.
“I like to surprise.”
“Gemini and Mercury,” he said.
“You know astrology?”
“Just when I read my horoscope. What do the ‘No Mercy’ ones mean?”
“Just something personal,” she said tersely.
“Oh, okay,” he said quickly, noting her uncomfortable look.
“Sorry, I get funny about stuff like that.”
“No worries. I get funny about stuff, too.”
She said, “I didn’t see any tats on you the other day.”
“I’ve got one, but not in a place you could see.”
“Where would that be, I wonder?” she said playfully.
In response, he edged down the waistband of his jeans, exposing the top of his hip. She bent down to look because the tat was small.
“Wait a minute, is that Hobbes?”
“Yeah, from Calvin and Hobbes.”
“Okay, ex–Special Forces with a cartoon tiger on his hip. Count me officially stunned.”
“What can I say? It was my favorite comic strip when I was a kid.”
He edged his
trousers back up, then motioned to her muscular arms. “Olympic-caliber lifter, right?”
“Okay, for the record, I had nothing to do with that Wikipedia page,” replied Pine. She shot him a curious glance. “So you checked me out before tonight?”
The question was asked in a mildly flirtatious way.
“I actually checked you out from the moment I saw you.”
She laughed.
“I guess your career doesn’t lend itself to much free time,” he said.
“Not usually, no.”
“Well, I’m glad you made time tonight.”
She touched his shoulder. “Yeah, me too. It was fun.”
He glanced down at her exposed calf. “What were you shot with?”
“Most people think it’s a mole.”
Kettler shrugged. “I’m not most people. I’ve seen enough entry wounds to last a lifetime.”
“Luckily, just a twenty-two-caliber. Round stayed in, otherwise the exit wound would’ve been really ugly.”
“How’d it happen?”
“Arrest gone wrong. I made a mistake. Learned my lesson. Never to be repeated.” She paused. “Okay, that’s my story. Where were you wounded to earn the medal?”
He shook his head, smiled, and finished his ice cream. “Not in a place I can show on the first, or second, or maybe the tenth date. I’m sort of old-fashioned.”
She hooked him by the arm. “Good, because I’m sort of old-fashioned, too.”
CHAPTER
17
Pine stirred, moving to the right in her bed and then back to the left. She was coming out of some vague dream and something was flitting in her ear, like a bothersome gnat.
She finally opened her eyes and looked at her buzzing phone on her nightstand.
The electronic gnat to which the entire world was now enslaved.
She picked it up and said groggily, “Pine.”
“Agent Pine. It’s Ed Priest.”
Pine sat bolt upright, fully awake now like she’d downed a pot of coffee and poured a second one over her head. “I tried calling you, but your voice mailbox was full. I couldn’t leave a message.”
“Something weird is going on,” said Priest.
“Give me every detail.”
“I don’t know if I want to do this over the phone.”
“I can come to see you. I can get a flight out in the morning.”
“You won’t have to do that. I’m in Arizona.”
Pine checked the clock on her phone. It was nearly eleven.
“Are you at Sky Harbor?”
“No. I flew into Phoenix from the East Coast but took a puddle jumper to Flagstaff. I just landed.”
“Stay there. I’ll come to get you. Give me a couple of hours.”
“The place is closing down. I think mine was the last flight in.”
“There’s an IHOP in Flagstaff.” She gave him the address. “It’s open 24/7. Do you have a rental?”
“No, but there’s a cabstand.”
“It’s only about four miles into town. I’ll meet you there.”
Pine swiftly dressed, grabbed both her guns, and headed out.
It was a lonely drive at this time of night under a sky thick with stars and the occasional whizzing-by satellite. That was one of the main differences for Pine between the ambient-light-filled eastern U.S. and here.
The sky.
You could see every millimeter of it, the vastness, the impenetrability. It was a part of your daily life, that upward glance into the cosmos. Every night it seemed to try to show how truly insignificant you were. And eventually, you started to believe it. And a daily dose of humility wasn’t so bad.
As she roared south, Pine’s mind was going in several different directions at once. Before she had been awoken by Priest’s phone call she’d been ruminating over how to get to Ed Priest, since he was the only way she could see to get to his brother. Well, she’d gotten her wish hand-delivered to her.
She pulled into the parking lot of the IHOP and jumped out of her SUV, reaching the front entrance in two long strides. She opened the door and looked around. There were about fifteen customers seated at a variety of tables and booths, but it didn’t take her long to spot Ed Priest. He looked just like he did in the picture he’d sent her. He was all the way in the back at a booth, trying to be inconspicuous behind a large menu while at the same time looking nervously around. A rolling suitcase with straps and stickers sat next to him on the floor.
She hurried over to him, glanced at his suitcase, and slid into the seat across from him.
“Agent Pine?”
She took out her creds and shield and showed them to him.
He sat back, looking relieved.
“Call me paranoid, but can I see some ID from you?”
He took out his Maryland driver’s license and showed it to her.
“Now why did you decide to come out here?” she asked.
“Because I don’t know where Ben is. I haven’t heard from him. No one has. It’s like he’s disappeared.”
“I want to show you something,” said Pine.
She took out her phone and brought up an attachment to an email she had received earlier from Jennifer Yazzie.
She held the picture in front of Priest.
“You recognize this guy?”
“No. Should I?”
“This is a digital sketch of the man calling himself Benjamin Priest, who rode a mule to the bottom of the Canyon and then disappeared. As you can see, he doesn’t look anything like your brother. He looks a lot more like you, which is why I thought Ben was you in the picture you sent.”
Ed Priest laid down his menu and continued to stare with greater intensity at the image on the phone screen.
“I . . . I don’t understand. Why would this man be calling himself Benjamin Priest? And then where the hell is my brother?”
“When was the last time you actually saw your brother?”
The waitress came by and Pine ordered a coffee, while Priest ordered a full breakfast.
“I haven’t eaten all day,” he explained to Pine as the waitress walked away. “Nervous flyer. I can’t eat on planes.”
“Probably better for you. Plane food sucks. So, your brother?”
“It was maybe two weeks ago or so. He came by our house.”
“Did he have a reason?”
“Not really. He called and asked if he could come over for dinner. He said he had some free time and just wanted to see the family.”
“How did he seem?”
Priest sat back and played with the edges of his paper napkin. “You have to understand that my younger brother was the star in the family. High school valedictorian, quarterback on the football team, and he was the star shooting forward of the basketball team, even though he hated basketball. But he knew he was good at it. He graduated top of his class at Georgetown while I went to the University of Maryland.”
“Both good schools.”
“Yeah, well, Ben was on another level. I’m just glad I was older. He would’ve been a damn tough act to follow. He was successful at everything he touched. And he was tall and good-looking. You saw his picture. I missed out on all that.”
“But never married? No kids?”
“No. He dated in high school and college, but once he got out, he was fully focused on his career.”
“Which was what?”
They paused as their coffees were delivered.
Pine took a sip of hers. “Your brother’s career?”
“Right now, your guess is as good as mine. All I know is he traveled the world. Hell, I took the kids to Disney World two years ago and he called up to wish me a happy birthday. I asked where he was, and he said, ‘Oh, somewhere in the Middle East.’ Another time he was in freaking Kazakhstan. My kids would get holiday gifts from him, and the boxes would have all these foreign stickers and labels and stuff on them. I’d have to pay customs on some of it just to get them released.”
“And you nev
er asked him what he did for a living?”
“Like I said, I did, and he made that joke. I didn’t want to push it. I just thought he had to keep it secret. He wouldn’t be the only one like that in the DC area.”
“Capricorn Consultants?”
“He brought it up one time when I asked him how things were going. He said he’d started his own company. I asked him what it was that he did, and he said he helped people who needed it.”
“I could find no record of any Beltway company called Capricorn Consultants.”
“I know. I looked, too. I’m an accountant. I work at a CPA firm in Maryland. I checked the government records. There was nothing.”
“You didn’t tell me how he seemed when he came over for dinner two weeks ago.”
“Understand, my brother can be really intense, and he’s super smart. He knows everything about everything. I used to joke with him that he’d kill it on Jeopardy. But that night he seemed relaxed and more open to talking than I’d ever seen him.”
“What did he talk about?”
“Politics. World events. Baseball. He’s a Nats fan.”
“Did he ask you for anything? Did he give you anything? Did he request that you do anything for him?”
“No, nothing like that.”
Priest’s food came, and he took a few moments to pepper and salt his eggs and douse his pancakes in syrup.
He looked up at Pine watching him. “You don’t look like you eat stuff like this,” he said.
“You might be surprised.” She took another sip of her coffee. “So, you came out here with what expectation?”
“I’m not sure I have one. But I’m really worried about my brother. Whenever I contacted him before he’d always get back to me. It might take a few hours or even a day, but he always got back to me. Not this time. I really think something’s happened to him. And now you tell me it wasn’t even him in the Grand Canyon. But this other guy was using my brother’s name. Do you think he did something to my brother? And stole his identity?”
“I don’t know,” said Pine. “But did anything specifically cause you to come out here?”
Now Priest looked uncomfortable.
“Your voice mail was full,” she said. “You’re an accountant. You strike me as a by-the-book kind of person. You don’t return phone calls, clients get pissed.” She paused. “So who was calling you so much that you didn’t want to answer?”