Canyon Secret (34 page)

Hannah whispered, “Our trip has just begun. Don’t leave without me.”

The blood flow went out of his control and Mikhail felt the hardness return with a vengeance. At the sight of his pleasure, she slowly took him into her hand and slid up and down. Simultaneously, she moved up and down on him alternating soft and deep pressure. She gently kissed the inside of his thighs. Hannah felt him respond uncontrollably but stopped short of his explosion. She let go and began retreating slowly to the foot of the bed repeating the massage on his legs as she went. “We sure have a big boy on our hands now don’t we?”

“Long Steel.”

Hannah stopped her hand motion and gasped, “Long Steel?” “That’s what Nolan calls it.”

She laughed and shook her head before she said, “You guys from Butte got names for everything. You even name your thing.”

“Is it my turn, Hannah? Can I do that to you? I want to touch your body like you done to me. Teach me.”

“That would be the plan, Mikhail. Anything you want to do will please me. But Mikhail, you need to know that a woman can go more than once.”

“Okay,” uttered Mikhail with a voice full of concern. “Where do I start?”

“Just like I did. The oil’s for both of us,” encouraged Hannah.

Candlelight gave the room an interesting glow. Making untiring love and stimulating each other to the ends of the earth gave Hannah and Mikhail’s bodies an even more interesting glow. Mikhail proved to be an attentive student turned lover who wanted to please her over and over and over again. With guidance he found the parts of her with his sensual mouth, tongue, and gentle fingers that resulted in the pleasure she sought for a lifetime. Mikhail was stunned to learn that giving her enjoyment was far more pleasurable in the short term than focusing on his own needs.

John Nolan struggled as he wrestled David’s limp and bloodied body into the passenger side of his pickup. Nolan managed to position the body forward and below the view of the windshield. After he closed the door from the inside, he climbed over to the driver’s side with David’s truck keys in his hands. “Shit!” he yelled as he noticed the dead man’s coat stuck in the door. He reached across the front seat and attempted to open the door. After the door refused to open, he stepped outside and mumbled as he stomped around and opened the door. “Suffering bald-headed Christ! Nothing works around this cathouse outfit!” Nolan started the engine and pulled away from the trees and crossed the Dew Drop Inn parking lot. His pocket watch read five minutes after one in the morning.

David’s limp arm dropped to the floor and startled Nolan. “Holy shit! What the hell was that?” He nervously squirted out a weak laugh. The empty highway greeted Nolan as he shifted into second gear. He reviewed the plan in his mind as he drove the six miles to the road that led to the Dam. The thought of using a blinker on the deserted highway amused him as the truck began the ascent up the now paved road. “No cars in sight,” he thought. “Good. I’ll get up pretty high before I turn around.”

The headlights of a boss’ pickup rounded the corner and pulled up behind him. Nolan pulled off and let him by. He raised his left arm and shielded his face as he looked down at David. For the first time since seeing him dead, Nolan realized the seriousness of what happened. Tomas killed him and now he’d cover it up or take the blame for his godson. “No way in hell the person I love most in the world will go down for this. I’m glad the son-of-a-bitch is dead. Just wished I did it. They’ll never know the difference.”

He stepped out and walked around to the passenger side and peed. As he looked up the road he identified his spot. “Perfect,” he thought. “No guardrail and a straight drop off.” Nolan got back in and drove past his spot and turned the pickup around. He wished for a drink to bolster his courage. His hand searched behind the seat. Nothing. Then he checked under the seat. His fingernails clanged on a half-empty bottle of Jim Beam. Nolan took a large swig and poured the rest all over David’s body. He placed the empty bottle on the floor in front of him.

After a long look up and down the road, he turned off the headlights and the ignition. Nolan pulled David’s body to the center of the front seat. He then walked around in front of the pickup and opened the passenger side. David’s body slid easily on the red nylon seat covers. Nolan positioned the body directly in front of the steering wheel and closed his own door. With his left foot he stepped on the clutch pedal. He slammed his right foot on the brake pedal. Out loud he talked himself through the next steps, “Okay, Johnny Boy, all you got to do now is shift into neutral, release the emergency brake, slowly let go of the brake, and steer this dirty bastard toward the open space. And then jump like a deer before it leaves the road.”

Another car rounded the corner and sped by as Nolan ducked out of sight. His heart pumped, his head throbbed, and his mind raced. “It’s time, Johnny Boy; coast is clear.” He took a deep breath and shifted the gearshift into neutral. One more look. The emergency brake released easily. His foot eased off the brake pedal and the truck began to coast. Nolan loosened his fingers on the steering wheel. He lined up the truck perfectly as it picked up speed. He switched his left foot over to work the brake and slid over toward the passenger door. His left hand barely guided the steering wheel as the truck picked up speed. Fifteen feet from the road’s edge, he let go and reached for the doorknob.

The door didn’t open. Ten feet. Faster. Five feet. He grabbed the window handle and furiously wound it downward. “Oh good Christ Almighty.” The front wheels left the pavement. The cold September air rushed into his face as the back wheels of the pickup left the pavement. In slow motion action, the shiny, black Chevy pickup sailed quietly into the night.

Mikhail sat up in bed. His quick movement started Hannah. “Are you alright, Mikhail?”

“Ya. Ya. Fine. Thought I heard somethin’.” He looked over at the black alarm clock on the table near their bed. One fifteen.

She snuggled up against him. “Hold me, Mikhail. I’m cold.” They wrapped each other with their bodies. “How about some more of that yummy stuff we did earlier right after coffee in the morning? You animal!”

“Great, as long as I go get it for us. Very hot with cream, right?”

Hannah turned over and nuzzled in the curves of his chest. Mikhail wrapped his arms around her and found a way to watch and smell her as she fell asleep. Several thoughts swirled around his mind as his body gave way to sleep. Number one, what else was in that satchel? Number two, why did she bring the nightgown? Number three, this room number, his new lucky number? They barely moved the rest of the night.

The longest night of his young life came to an end. Tomas sat in the hard wooden chair and stared at the bed in John Nolan’s bunkhouse room. The bed remained untouched. Nolan didn’t return right away like he said he would. So many times throughout the night, Tomas prayed that it all had been a bad dream. A nightmare. The swelling on the knuckle on his right hand ruined the dream. He killed David Sednick. Nolan said he’d take care of it. Morning light poured under the closed door. Tomas told himself he’d wait until eight in the morning. Then he’d go find the Sheriff and turn himself in. Throughout the long night, he emptied his stomach from the onslaught of shattered nerves. Several times dry heaves shook his body. He’d be sent to prison for sure. His life was over.

The hallway door opened and at least two men stopped outside of his room down the hall from where he sat. One of the men knocked on the door. After no one answered, Tomas heard the door open. “His sister said he stayed here and he’d want to know. Nobody around.” Once outside, Ted Hughes continued, “We better get back over to the wreck site. We’ve got a lot of explaining to do, and we’ll need every detail. That dumbshit Sednick anyway.”

Al Sutter snapped photos of the area where David’s pickup left the pavement. He paused as he focused on the branches off to the side of the opening. “Hey Sheriff. Come on over here a second.”

Sheriff Schustrom stood up from his kneeling position of checking the tire tracks and meandered over to Sutter. “What you got there, Al?”

Sutter rubbed his fingers together with the red liquid he gathered from the fir tree branch. “Looks and feels like blood.”

After a closer look, Schustrom walked over to the branch, held on, and took a few steps down the embankment. “I got more blood down here Al. Lots of it.”

Sutter reloaded film into his camera. “Do you think he tried to get out of the window before it left the road?”

“Possibly. I’ll walk down as far as I can. Maybe there was somebody else in the truck. I’ll see what’s what.”

Hannah cupped the steaming hot cup of coffee Mikhail brought to her as she lazed about in their hotel bed. He sat on the bed and faced her. The morning light pierced the window through the partially drawn curtain. “I thought you looked beautiful last night. The mornin’ suits you fine, too.”

She held the cup near her mouth and sleepily looked over the rim of the cup at him, “You’re really a smooth talker Mikhail Anzich. But the words aren’t necessary. After I finish this coffee, you’re gonna get it again. And you’ll like the view too. And you won’t have to walk up the stairs behind me to get it.”

Ten minutes later Hannah laid on her left side and guided Mikhail into position behind her. Slowly and with a newfound confidence, Mikhail entered Hannah from behind and moved in and out with a gentleness that left her in awe. Due to the arch and curve in the small of Hannah’s back, Mikhail watched his own movements briefly, rather struck by the waning and waxing of blood in his penis. He cupped her right breast with his right hand and reminded himself to let go with his own climax.

“Tell me when, Mikhail. I want to make that trip with you at the right moment.” Again, Hannah laughed with pure joy and release at what her body provided her. “You are gorgeous, Mikhail Anzich. Absolutely gorgeous.”

FBI agents Moore and Hughes stood near the hearse as the men loaded David’s mangled body into the back of the vehicle. Moore shook his head, “Sednick must’ve been pretty drunk. The inside of the truck smells of whiskey. You wonder what he was doin’ up on that road at night anyway. The headlights weren’t even on in his pickup.” He examined what remained of the inside of the pickup. His hands and eyes focused on the key plugged into the ignition in the off position. Next he wiggled the gearshift. It remained locked securely in neutral. Agent Moore jotted down some notes and closed his small notebook.

The tow truck driver pushed the boom handle and lifted the front end of the truck into the air. The back tires stayed on the ground for the trip to the junkyard in Columbia Falls. He jawed to the small crowd as he worked, “Shame. Hell of a rig. There ain’t nothing left of her to salvage. Musta flew three hundred feet before it hit the rocks. Hard to believe it didn’t burn up. Damn shame is all.”

The Davenport Hotel in downtown Spokane first opened in 1914. This historic thirteen-story hotel featured amenities unlike any other hotel in the region. All of the furniture was hand-carved mahogany. Imported Irish linens and crosscut travertine marble showers and bathrooms decorated the spacious guest rooms.

Roy Devers sat in the one-hundred year old chair near his ornate feather bed and read the letter handed to him by the night clerk as he registered. Devers set the twenty-five hundred dollars on the table as he reread the brief note clipped to the money. “Goodbye, Mr. Devers. This ends our business together.”

He flipped the note over and stared at the blank page. “Son-of-a-bitch,” he mumbled. “Hansen must of known what I planned for him.” Devers returned the note to the white envelope and looked at the postal marking on the outside of the envelope. “Kalispell, Montana.”

Roy Devers laid down on his bed. He shook his head as he thought, “Old Slick mailed it a week ago. Son-of-a-bitch.”

Tomas closed the door to Nolan’s room behind him. Time to call the sheriff. His foggy mind searched for answers. The long night of searching his soul didn’t produce any answers. “I’m allalone when I need somebody most of all. I wish Dad didn’t go to Whitefish. I don’t even know where to get a hold of him. I could sure use him now to go with me to the sheriff. I can’t wait any longer for John Nolan.” As he headed for the front door, he slowly turned around as the back door hinges creaked. Through the dim light he saw Nolan crawl in and crumble in a pile on the floor. With ten long steps, Tomas knelt down and reached him. “Oh my God! What happened? I’ll get Dr. Green.”

The bloody right hand of John Nolan weakly grabbed Tomas’ arm. “No. My room.” He gasped and passed out.

Another man came out of the shower room a few feet away. Tomas yelled at him, “Help me get him into his room. Help me, please! He’s hurt bad!”

The two men lifted Nolan and walked him into Nolan’s room and gently placed him on his bed. The man rubbed the blood off his hands to the towel wrapped around his waist. “Hey, fella. This guy’s bleedin’ real bad. Looks like to me we best get the doctor. He might die if we don’t get him help.”

“Okay! Okay! Call for the doctor? I’ll stay here with him.” The man raced back to his room, dressed, and ran across the street to use the phone.

Tomas cried as he patted Nolan’s chest and applied pressure to his bleeding right arm. His white skin contrasted with the blood-covered clothes and deep scratches across his face. John Nolan weakly opened his eyes. They blinked and battled the need to close. Through the tears and runny nose, Tomas whispered, “Uncle. What happened? What did you do with David?”

Nolan lifted his finger and motioned Tomas closer. “It’s okay, Kid. His truck crashed.”

With his shirt sleeve, Tomas brushed the tears from his eyes and the snot from his nose, “What? I killed him.”

He attempted to grab Tomas, but all of his energy left him on the walk and crawl back to the barracks. In a barely audible voice Nolan mumbled, “Kid, he died in his truck. Follow.” His hands went limp and his eyes closed.

Tomas listened to Nolan’s shallow, rapid breathing. He covered him with the green army blanket from the end of the bed. “Okay Uncle John. Okay. I follow. Doctor’ll be here soon. Don’t die. It’s all my fault. Please don’t die.”