A Shadow Fell (19 page)

             
             
             
             
             
             
             
45

             
Tannis Fuller was as good as her word. Two days after Blackmore and Colletti met with Tom Kilborn she called to say she had some news.

             
The agents met with her at the forensic laboratory in Tampa.
“So,
good lady
,” Blackmore said, “what have you got?”

             
“Quite a lot, actually,”
Fuller
began. “First up we’ve positively identified the fragment of bone we found as that of Conrad Edgerton. We have also confirmed the ashes found were the remains of  Edgerton and another individual we have tentatively identified as Jack Parmenter.”

             
“Shit,” Blackmore cursed. “I’m not surprised, I was just hoping.”

             
“I know,” Fuller commiserated. “There’s no way we can say absolutely the ashes are those of Parmenter but it’s a damn good bet. We found a boot, obviously overlooked by the killer, which we know from DNA inside it, was worn by Parmenter. We have identified a fragment from the matching boot among the incinerated remains. The assumption is pretty obvious. In addition, two bullet fragments were found containing DNA from Parmenter
. If that’s not enough,
a
substantial
quantity
of blood
, consistent with two wounds was found in the ground at the location we believe he was killed.
It’s Parmenter’s.
”

             
Colletti, ever the stickler for detail, asked, “Is there any doubt in your mind at all that Jack Parmenter was killed up on that mountain?”

             
Fuller gave him a sympathetic look, then slowly shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Vince. I’m not a betting woman but, if I were, I’d bet the ranch on this one.”

             
             
             
             
             
             
*
             
*
             
*

             
That afternoon T
o
m Kilborn made one of the tougher
telephone
calls o
f his career. “Callie, it’s Tom
. I’m afraid I have bad news.”

             
Callie didn’t need to hear any more than that.
“Jack’s dead
,
”
she said, her
voice crack
ing
. She
wasn’t yet ready to cry. It would take a while for her to process the reality of Jack being gone. She stared off as if in a trance, the phone at her
side.

             
Miles took the phone gently from her
. “Hold on, Tom,” he said. He
helped
Callie
to a chair. “Tom, it’s Miles.
What c
an you
tell us
?”

             
Kilborn related the information gleaned by the forensic team
, sparing none of the details
. “Tell Callie
we’re closing in on Henderson
,” he concluded
.
“
We’re going to get him.”

             
Miles had
been retired for
several
years now but
he
had
spent
most of his life
as a law enforcement officer. He
figured he
could
recognize
wishful thinking and
unqualified
bullshit when he heard it.

             
             
             
             
             
             
*
             
*
             
*

             
Callie’s pain in the days that followed was
profound
. Still grieving over the loss of Tanya when receiving the news of Jack’s death
was
a
crushing
burden to bear
. Miles and Betty did what they could to ease her hurt but there was only so much they could do. Callie was like a lost child
.

             
One night after Callie had retired to bed Betty brought up the topic of Callie’s future. “What are we going to do, Miles? She’s i
n
no condition to go back to Florida. She might never be.”

             
“I know,” Miles said. “I’m gonna talk to her about selling their place and moving in here with us permanent. You okay with that?”

             
“Of course I am.
I love that girl as much as you do, y
ou know that. But do you think she
’ll agree to living in Colville again with all the memories and all
?”

             
“I don’t
know. But I
think she
might. She’s got no one else to look out for her. She needs us.”

             
Betty shook her head sadly. “Such a darn shame, everything that’s happened. There’s just no justice in this world.”

             
             
             
             
             
   
Part
Six

             
             
             
             
  
  
             
    
Insanity

             
             
             
             
             
             
             
46

             
Reuben Henderson stood over me as I lay on the ground
, fully expecting my next breath to be my last. There was no reason at all to believe he would spare me.
Most likely the only reason he hadn’t killed me at the same time as Con was to give himself the opportunity to drag out the pleasure of seeing me squirm.
I heard the bullet from his rifle enter the breach. I turned, not out of any expectation that I could stop what was about to happen, but more out of a wish to see the sky before I died.

             
Not many people can say they owe their lives to their pets, but th
ere
is
no doubt that I most certainly do
.

             
Winston had always been a wonderful animal. He had a heart as big as the outdoors.
Being a
gentle soul
a
ngry voices or arguments of any kind w
ere a
cause of great distress for him
.

             
After
Con was shot he scampered away and hid in the woods. But he didn’t go far. It was simply not in his nature to abandon someone he loved. And he loved  me. He proved that when, despite his abhorrence to violence, he gave out a fierce growl and charged out of the woods at Henderson.

             
He
took the bullet that should have been mine and,
in
doing so, gave me the
opportunity
to
kick the rifle out of Henderson’s grasp.

             
In the course of two seconds I went from victim to
captor
.

             
Henderson stared at me
transfixed
,
clearly
astounded at the speed with which he had lost his position as the aggressor.

             
I held the rifle on him relishing his fear. All the hatred I had held for this man for so long
had come
to a head
at last
.

             
I glanced over to where
Winston
was sprawled
. He was on his side, a dark patch of blood staining the fur at his neck.
While keeping my eyes on Henderson I moved over to him and put my hand on his chest. There was no pulse.

             
It was the final insult.
In
that moment
something vital changed within me. I became someone alien to the person I had always been.
It was suddenly very clear to me that s
hooting Henderson was
far
too
good
. He didn’t deserve a quick, painless death. He deserved to suffer. And I was going to make sure he did. In spades.

             
“You’re going to bury my dog,” I said, my calm voice belying the rage inside me.

             
Henderson swallowed hard. When I didn’t say anything
else
he looked around for something he could use as a shovel. He spotted a small spade among Walker’s
things. “Okay,” he said fearfully. “Where?”

             
I motioned to a spot a few yards away.
 

             
He set about digging a hole, all the while looking nervously at me. When he was done he pulled Winston over to it and waited for me to tell him what to do.

             
“Say a prayer for him,” I said.

             
A nervous little chuckle escaped him. He tried to smile but he couldn’t quite do it. “You’re kidding, right?”

             
“Put him in the fucking hole, you moron.”

             
He did as I directed, filling in the hole afterward.

             
“You have a cabin somewhere in the mountains,”
I said.
I barely recognized the voice as my own.

             
The fear on Henderson’s
face faded a little.
My apparent rationality
had given him some hope that he would survive this.

             
He nodded his head enthusiastically. “Yes.”

             
“How far?”

             
“A day by foot. Half that on the bike.” He was falling all over himself trying to be helpful.

             
             
“You’re going to take me to it.”

             
He was surprised and confused by this but he was in no position to argue. “Sure.”

             
“
Where’s the bike?”

             
He pointed with his right hand to the woods. “Not far.”

             
I gathered together a duffle bag and filled it with tools from Eldon Walker’s camp.
“Move
,
”
I said.

             
When we got to the bike I fired it up. “You’re going to go ahead of me,” I said. “If we’re not at the cabin by dark I’ll kill you.”

             
The look of fear was back on his face. “
I
t’s too far
,” he whined
.
“
I can’t walk that fast.”

             
“Then you’d better run,” I said.

             
He wasted no time trying to decide if
my threat
was
real
. He turned and began to make his way
quickly
through the woods.

             
             
             
             
             
             
             
47

             
The bike had a firm-sided saddle bag attached over the rear wheel which contained two
large
canisters of gas
oline
. Except for a brief stop to refuel
I allowed Henderson no opportunity to rest. When the
late afternoon light started to fade
he looked back at me, his dread more apparent than ever.
Maybe he was sensing my growing resolve.
Without a word, despite his exhaustion, he started to run.

             
As I watched him stumble and trip repeatedly my hate for him only
magnified
. I kept imagining the things he had done to my little girl, what she must have gone through in her final moments.

             
At one point he fell heavily and lay motionless. “I have to rest,” he gasped.

             
“I told you what I was going to do,” I said
without emotion
. “Either you get up now or I
’ll
kill you where you lay.” To make my point I chambered a round in the rifle.

             
He was
tired
enough
to try
calling my bluff. “Go ahead,” he said.
“You’re going to anyway.”

             
Without a seconds hesitation I fired a bullet that
missed his head by inches.

             
I had made my point.
He staggered awkwardly to his feet.

             
“How much further?” I said.

             
“Listen to me,” he panted. “I can’t make it by dark. It’s another two hours at least.”

             
“Which direction?”

             
He pointed
behind him
. “Straight that way.”

             
Al
l
right, asshole, I thought to myself.
Let’s do this.
“Get down on your stomach and put your hands behind you,” I ordered.

             
A look of
renewed
panic skirted across his face
but he did as I said.

             
I reached into
the
duffle
bag, draped over the bikes handle bars
,
and withdrew a hatchet. Henderson couldn’t see me.
He undoubtedly
assumed I was going to tie him up.

             
I
moved quickly and
straddled
his back
. I
took his
right hand
, t
hen stretched out his arm.
Now that I had
actually starting the process of m
y planned revenge I
lost all capacity to reason things out
.
“Is this the hand you used to cut
off my daughter’s head
, you fuck?”
I screamed.

             
He
tried to squirm free
, suddenly aware what
was happening
. But I had him held firmly. I brought the axe down as hard as I could.

             
It took three
swings
to
completely
severe his hand
.

             
I had come prepared for what I was doing. Only the location
I
had
planned to use had
changed.
For some reason I couldn’t hope to understand it had seemed important that I take him to his cabin to torture and kill him. Now
it didn’t matter where he died. It only mattered that I bring his miserable life to a painful end.

             
I tied
some string
around his wrist. I didn’t give a damn about the loss of blood
, I
just didn’t want him to die yet.

             
I pulled him over onto his back. He had passed out from the shock. I slapped his face
hard
until he fluttered awake.
H
e started to scream but his screams were weak
.
I dragged him to the base of a small tree and sat him up, then tied him to it.

             
He
kept losing
consciousness.
I
had to
slap his face repeatedly
to keep him awake.
I wasn’t going to allow him the luxury of lapsing into painless sleep.

             
I took an
hour
to
methodically
separate him from his remaining hand, then his feet
.
Each
atrocity I committed
fed fuel to the next
.

             
He
nderson
was delirious at this point. Mumbling inanities. Occasionally
he would become
sufficiently alert to curse me.
When I
finally
grew tired of his noise I took the hatchet and hammered his teeth into his mouth.

             
He
tried to
scream
but it came out only as a pitiful
sob
as he
sputtered blood and broken bits of teeth
.

             
It took
quite a while
but f
inally he choked
to death
. I can only describe the manner of his death as delightful
to me and agonizing for him.

             
But I wasn’t
yet
done.
In
one last
frenzied
attempt
to achieve the ultimate degree of retribution
I
use
d
the hatchet to
replicate what he had done to my da
ughter
.

             
When a
t last
I
fell back,
exhausted beyond measure,
the axe slipp
ed
from my blood
ied
grip.

             
I sat st
aring at Henderson’s massacred remains
until
dark
ness fell.