Dying to Know (27 page)

After several seconds, he redialed, and waited longer before clos-

ing it. He returned to the Explorer and met Angel.

“The trailer’s locked and there’s no sign of André. I called his

cel , but he’s not answering. Byrd’s security guard is gone, too.

They’re supposed to be here.”

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“I wonder what’s going on.” Angel scanned the orchard in al

directions. “This isn’t like him.”

“Shouldn’t security still be here?”

“Yes. Tyler told me yesterday he’d let them know we were still

working.” Angel’s voice was curt and irritated. “I don’t like this, Ernie. We better call Bear.”

“Wait,” Ernie said, walking to the edge of the pit. “The site’s

been compromised. Someone’s been digging—far too much—

and they’ve been reckless about it.”

The damage to the dig site was obvious. The pit, like the de-

bris pile, had changed from last week. The barn’s timbers from

inside the pit were now broken and strewn far behind it. The rear

foundation wall was smashed through and a large swath of earth

removed. Fresh backhoe tracks marred the area surrounding the

pit. The pile of foundation stones where André and Angel had

last been working were now scattered haphazardly. A fresh cavity

of missing earth remained where the foundation had been there

last.

“Ernie, call Bear—now.”

“Yes, yes. I’ll do that. This is terrible. Any chance of properly

excavating more remains has been destroyed.”

As I was about to go search for André, something caught my

eye from the corner of the pit.

A flicker of light glinted in the morning sun. The twinkle

came from beneath one of the remaining foundation stones over-

turned by the backhoe. A faint, eerie glimmer sparkled and bade

my attention. I slid into the pit and knelt down. There, I found a tiny, half-inch stone caked in earth. It was no larger than a dime 260

and only a sliver of its face was free of clay. That sliver caught the sunlight and simmered with a glint of green light.

“Angel, look at this …” I said and touched it …



The sun disappeared but left a strange aura surrounding the dig

site. My fingers tingled and a foggy haze engulfed me. I couldn’t

see the orchard trees or the debris pile any longer. In fact, I

couldn’t distinguish anything but the crumbled stones and tim-

bers lying above the pit.

Angel and Ernie were gone, too.

The haze was growing and someone was walking toward

me—a faint image emerging just yards away.

It was the young brunette who had visited me twice before.

But, unlike her previous visits, I saw her with clarity and distinction. She stood above me at the pile of foundation stones and

gazed down at me. A faint smile crept across her lips. I was see-

ing her clearly for the first time and I understood why. She was

pretty and young and most importantly, she belonged here—

right here at Kel y’s Dig.

“Hello,” she said in a calm, whispered voice. “We’ve been

waiting for you to visit us here again.”

Crap, that can’t be good. “Real y? Why here?”

“It’s all right. You’ll understand.” The girl turned and waved

behind her. “It’s all right. He’s here. He final y came. He’s going to help us.”

Her blonde friend appeared. She stood next to the brunette

beaming at me as though some surprise was looming. “Yes, you

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can help us. But first, help them. Help the others. You can stop

this.”

“Stop what?” I asked, trying not to frighten them as I had be-

fore. “Who are you? Will you tell me your names so I can help

you?”

“It was all here.” The brunette’s face darkened and she took

her friend’s hand. “He killed us.”

“Who? Who killed you?”

“He’s not going to stop until you make him. We can’t—it’s too

late for us. It’s too late for you, too. But you give us hope. You have friends. Get them to help you; get them to help us all.

Hurry.”

I started to climb up out of the pit but they withdrew. I smiled

again, trying not to scare them as I had before. “Do you know

who killed me? Can you tell me that?”

The brunette shook her head. “Oliver, it’s not about you.”

“No, not about you.” The blonde gripped the brunette’s hand

tighter as they backed away. “We want to go—to leave here. We

can’t until he does. And we can’t leave the others behind, they

protected us for so long. Oh, no, it’s happening again. Save him!”

“Again?”

The sky lit up and the explosion rocked me.

262

fort y-eig ht

When I recovered, the girls were gone. Smoke churned in the

air and I could hear Angel crying out. I scrambled up the pit to

find her and Ernie running toward the pil ar of smoke behind

the debris pile. I ran after them and we rounded the debris pile

just yards from the front of the construction office trailer.

The trailer was on fire.

Hercule charged ahead, barking, and leaping into the air. He

ran toward us, stopped, howled, and ran back toward the trailer.

He continued this frenzy as the flames crackled behind him.

“Angel, stay back. Stay back.”

“Let me try,” Ernie yelled and darted toward the trailer. “Her-

cule, come boy.”

Hercule became more frantic and animated. He barked and

dodged back and forth, churning the earth with his paws each

time he got close to the trailer; each time the flames drove him

263

back. He wouldn’t stop. His retreat got less, his daring got too

close.

“Angel, watch out,” I yelled as she reached Hercule and tried

dragging him from the fire. He fought her and pulled free, bark-

ing and bolting back again.

“No, Angela.” Ernie grabbed her and pulled her to safety.

“Stay clear. It might explode again. Hercule, come. Come, Her-

cule!”

I watched Herc and knew what he knew—someone was in-

side the trailer. André Cartier was inside. “He’s trying to warn us.

André’s inside.”

“What?” Angel looked at the convertible. “Oh my God,

André!”

Ernie charged the trailer, protecting his face with his arms.

Two steps before the door, smoke forced his retreat. More flames

rose from the far end of the trailer but the side nearest us had yet to be engulfed. Ernie made three attempts before surrendering

and retreating to Angel’s side. “I can’t make it, Angela. It’s too much for me.”

A car roared down the gravel road and skidded to a stop be-

hind the convertible. Bear leapt out and ran to us. “Are you al

right? What the hell happened?”

“It’s André,” Angel cried. “I think he’s inside.”

Bear’s mouth dropped. He turned and saw Hercule’s frantic

dance back toward the flames. “Jesus, no.”

Without hesitating—that’s what I remembered about Bear—

he ran to his cruiser, pulled out a large, hand-held fire extin-

guisher from the trunk, and dashed to the rear trailer door.

264

Fighting the smoke and heat, he made his move.

He sprayed the trailer handle with a long, heavy burst and

gave the door a violent kick. The flames engulfing the roof were

unmerciful and twice he withdrew. On the third assault, he drew

his automatic and shot the door lock off. Spraying the remaining

handle with the extinguisher again, he cursed, yanked the door

open, and dove inside.

I followed.

Smoke made it impossible for him to see. The searing heat

was already blistering Bear’s face and hands. Only seconds re-

mained before he would have to withdraw or die. Unfazed, I ran

deeper into the smoke and searched around until I found a body.

It was lying face down on the carpet against the far office wal .

André.

I tried to reach inside him and pull his being—his thoughts—

to me. There was nothing returning my probes. There were no

thoughts, no emotions, nothing I could take hold of. Death was

seeping in; André was slipping away.

“Bear, follow my voice—like last night—listen. Stay down;

stay low. Come to me. Here, Bear, here.”

He threw himself to his knees and crawled forward, groping

inch-by-inch, hand-over-hand. He choked smoke and cursed

loudly as the heat blistered his skin. “Dammit, André. Can you

hear me? André?”

“Another foot, Bear. Come on. You’re here.”

Bear fell upon André’s lifeless body. He grabbed his arms and

pulled him backwards to the door. There, the heat overtook him

and he col apsed. I tried to move him but all I found was empti-

265

ness in my grasp. I screamed into his head, commanded he listen

and obey.

“You son-of-a-bitch, get up. Get up. Three more feet. You

can’t give up, not yet. You’re there. Dammit, fight. Fight, Bear.”

He did.

In slow, beleaguered moves, Bear’s powerful arms grabbed

André’s shoulders and he stood. With the last of his strength, he

propelled himself out the door and onto the ground. Their

clothes were smoldering and Bear’s shoes were blackened and

scorched; their faces red and blistering.

Neither moved.

Bear gasped for air but couldn’t rise. André was stil .

Through the smoke, Spence and Clemens charged in spraying

fire extinguishers over the two men, then fought back the flames.

Spence grabbed Bear and Clemens grabbed André. They dragged

them back to safety, rolling them onto their backs and instantly

triaging their wounds. Clemens took the lead, first checking their pulse, then their breathing. He barked at Spence who instantly

tore at André’s shirt.

Ernie and Angel clung together and watched.

Bear coughed and gasped for air. After a second, he stirred

and got to his knees. He pushed Clemens off André’s body and

descended upon it. He checked his pulse—once, twice, three

times. Clemens began chest compressions—Bear tried breathing

life into his dying body. Spence pulled Bear free and took up the

cause.

266

Feverishly, the three detectives fought André’s failing body.

Seconds. Minutes. Breath after breath. One more compression,

five more, fifteen … twenty-five …

“Stop.” Clemens sat back and slid his fingers from André’s

neck. “You can stop.”

“No,” Angel cried. “Please, he can’t be dead.”

Spence pressed his fingers to André’s throat. He looked up,

closing his eyes as his chin dropped to his chest.

“No, he’s alive.”

267

fort y-nine

Bear sat wiping the soot and smoke from his face as the am-

bulance pulled away. Angel was helping him. Leaning on their

own cruiser, Clemens and Spence talked with the Fire Chief—

they looked grim. Ernie Stuart looked the worst. He was sitting

in the Fire Chief ’s Suburban taking breaths from an oxygen

mask. Every word the Chief spoke seemed to make his breathing

all the harder.

I was standing beside Angel. She knelt down and rubbed Her-

cule’s face with a damp cloth. There was an acrid scent of burnt

hair around him, but he looked okay. Once again, Hercule saved

the day.

“Herc, you’re a hero—again. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t

have found André in time. Good boy, another steak tonight.”

Hercule, not wanting to display any false modesty, wagged up

a storm and barked at Bear to make sure he knew who the real

hero was—and who would
not
be sharing a T-bone.

268

“Angel,” I said, “you know this was no accident, right?”

“Yes, I know.”

Bear looked around. “You know what?”

“Someone just tried to kill André.” She stood up and faced

him. “My God, I don’t know how you found him in all that

smoke. We’re lucky you arrived in time.”

Bear turned away for a long, silent moment. Final y, he said,

“Angel, it’s the weirdest thing. Inside the trailer … damnedest

thing … I swear I heard someone yelling at me. The voice brought

me right to André. Like last night at McCorkle’s place. I swear I

heard someone telling me what to do. I’m going nuts.”

“No,” Angel said, taking Bear’s arm and turning him toward

her. “We both know who it was. You weren’t imagining it, Bear.

You know it was Tuck.”

His jaw locked tight and he shook his head.

“Yes you do,” I said. “You are just too stubborn to admit it.”

Bear changed the subject and his face shot an angry, distrust-

ful look at Spence and Clemens. I’ve seen that look a thousand

times directed at lying suspects. “I’m very curious why those two

happened to show up.”

“And the timing,” Ernie added as he walked up beside Angel.

“How absolutely convenient. One has to wonder.”

“Wel , then I guess you should wonder about me, Ernie,” Bear

said. “After al , I got here in the nick of time, too.”

“Yes, you did, Detective. You’re always close by.” Ernie didn’t

wait for Bear’s response and returned to the Suburban for more

oxygen.

269

Spence walked up jotting something in his notebook and

when he stopped beside Bear, he flipped the notebook closed.

Bear asked, “What do you have, Spence?”

“Chief thinks it’s arson. The construction crews left some gas

cans beside the trailer. It looks like someone rigged them to ex-

plode. He’s just speculating for now. He’l have more later. Cartier could have done this by himself and got caught in his own fire—