Ice Cold (25 page)

“What is it?”

Jane pointed at the Harley. It was a black V-Rod Muscle model, and like the truck, it looked brand new. She didn’t know how much a bike like this cost, but it certainly didn’t come cheap. “Looks like Deputy Martineau recently came into some money,” she said softly. She turned to Cathy, who stared openmouthed at the Harley. “He didn’t have a rich uncle somewhere, did he?”

Cathy gave a baffled shake of the head. “From what I heard, he couldn’t even keep up with his alimony payments.”

“Then how did he pay for this bike? For the truck?” Jane looked around at the shabby garage with its sagging timbers. “Obviously, we have a disconnect here. It makes you question everything we’ve been told about Martineau.”

“He was a cop. Maybe someone was paying him to look the other way.”

Jane again focused on the Harley, trying to understand how it connected with Martineau’s death. It was clear to her now that he had purposefully shut off his dash camera to hide his actions. Dispatch had just told him that Maura Isles was waiting there, a lone woman, in need of rescue. After taking the call, Martineau had shut off the camera and proceeded to drive up Doyle Mountain.

Then what happened? Where did the boy come in?
Maybe it all comes down to the boy
.

She looked at Cathy. “How far is Kingdom Come?”

“It’s about thirty, forty miles from here. Middle of nowhere.”

“Maybe we should drive out there and talk to Julian’s mother.”

“I don’t think anyone’s living there right now. I heard the residents have left for the winter.”

“You do remember who reported that piece of information? The same deputy who visited Kingdom Come again and again. And never saw anything wrong there.”

Cathy said, softly: “Bobby Martineau.”

Jane nodded at the Harley. “Based on what we’ve found here, I don’t think we can trust anything Martineau said. Someone’s been paying him off. Someone who has plenty of money to do it.”

Neither one of them had to say the name aloud.
Jeremiah Goode
.

“Let’s pay a visit to Kingdom Come,” said Jane. “I’d like to find out what we’re not supposed to see.”

T
HROUGH THE CAR WINDOW, JANE SPOTTED BROWN HUMPS DOTTING
a vast field of white. They were bison, huddled together against the wind, their great shaggy coats dusted with snow. Wild animals, belonging to no one. That was a novelty for a girl from the big city, where all pets were leashed and tagged and registered. But pets were fed and sheltered, not left to fend for themselves in the brutal elements. Here is the consequence of freedom, she thought, staring at the bison, a consequence that Julian Perkins had accepted when he fled his foster home with only a backpack of food. How could a sixteen-year-old boy survive in that unforgiving world?

How could Maura?

As if reading her thoughts, Cathy said: “If anyone can keep her alive out there, it’d be Julian. He grew up with a grandfather who knew every trick of living off the land. Absolem Perkins is a legend around here. Built his own cabin by hand, up in the Bridger-Teton Mountains.”

“Where’s that?”

“It’s that mountain range over there.” Cathy pointed.

Through the swirling dust of snow kicked up by the tires, Jane saw impossibly rugged peaks.
“That’s
where Julian grew up?”

“It’s national forest now. But if you go hiking up there, you’ll come across a few old homesteads just like Absolem’s. Most of them are down to nothing but foundations, but they remind you how hard it was just to stay alive back then. I can’t imagine going a day without flush toilets and a hot shower.”

“Hell. I can’t imagine a day without cable.”

They were climbing into foothills now, through terrain where the trees grew thicker and buildings vanished. They passed Grubb’s General Store, and Jane spotted the ominous sign:
LAST CHANCE FOR FUEL.
She couldn’t help an anxious glance at Cathy’s fuel gauge, and was relieved to see that they had three-quarters of a tank.

It was almost a mile farther down the road before that name suddenly struck her as familiar. Grubb’s General Store. She remembered what Queenan had told her about the many sightings of Maura. That people had reported seeing her all over the state, at the Dinosaur Museum in Thermopolis, in the Irma Hotel in Cody. And at Grubb’s General Store in Sublette County.

She pulled out her cell phone to call Queenan. Zero bars, no reception. She put her phone back in her purse.

“Well, this is interesting,” Cathy said as they turned off the highway onto a much narrower road.

“What?”

“It’s been plowed.”

“Is this the road to Kingdom Come?”

“Yes. If Bobby told the truth, and the valley’s deserted, why would anyone bother to clear the road?”

“Have you been up this way before?”

“The one time I drove up here was last summer,” said Cathy as she steered around a hairpin turn that made Jane instinctively reach for the armrest. “I’d just become Julian’s caseworker. The police caught him in Pinedale, where he’d broken into someone’s house and was raiding the kitchen for food.”

“After he got kicked out of The Gathering?”

Cathy nodded. “Another one of their Lost Boys. I drove up here, hoping to interview his mother. And I was worried about his sister, Carrie. Julian told me she was only fourteen, and I know that’s the age when the men begin to …” Cathy paused and took a deep breath. “Anyway, I never made it to Kingdom Come.”

“What happened?”

“I turned onto their private road and was just heading down into the valley when a truck came roaring up and intercepted me. They must have some sort of warning system that tells them when someone’s entered their property. Two men with walkie-talkies demanded to know the purpose of my visit. As soon as they found out I was a social worker, they ordered me to leave and never return. I got only a glimpse of the settlement from the road. They’d built ten houses, and there were two more under construction, with bulldozers and tractors rumbling around. Obviously, they’ve got plans to expand. This is going to be their next Plain of Angels.”

“So you never spoke to Julian’s mother.”

“No. And she never once tried to contact anyone about his welfare.” She shook her head in disgust. “How’s that for parental love? You’re given the choice between your cult and your own child, and you toss out the child. I don’t get it, do you?”

Jane thought of her own daughter, thought of what she would sacrifice to keep Regina safe.
I’d die for her, and I wouldn’t think twice about it
. “No, I don’t get it, either.”

“Imagine what it was like for poor Julian. Knowing his mom thinks he’s disposable. Knowing that she just looked the other way when the men dragged him out of the house.”

“My God, is that how it happened?”

“That’s how Julian described it. He was sobbing and screaming. His sister was screaming. And their mother let it all happen, without a peep of protest.”

“What a worthless piece of shit.”

“But remember, she’s a victim, too.”

“That’s no excuse. A mother fights for her kids.”

“In The Gathering, mothers never do. In Plain of Angels, dozens of mothers willingly surrendered their sons, letting them be dragged off and dumped in the nearest town. The boys end up so broken, so damaged, that a lot of them turn to drugs. Or they’re exploited by predators. They’re desperate for someone, anyone, to love them.”

“How did Julian cope?”

“He just wanted to go back to his family. He’s like some beaten dog, trying to return to his abusive master. Last July, he stole a car and actually made it all the way back to the valley to see his sister. Managed to hide out in the area for three weeks before The Gathering caught him and dumped him back in Pinedale.”

“So he might head back there this time as well.” She looked at Cathy. “How far are we from Doyle Mountain? Where Martineau was shot?”

“As the crow flies, it’s not far. It’s right on the other side of those hills. A lot farther if you go by road.”

“So he could hike it.”

“If he really wanted to.”

“He just killed a deputy. He’s scared and he’s on the run. He might seek shelter in Kingdom Come.”

Cathy thought about it, her frown deepening. “If he’s there now …”

“He’s armed.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me. He knows me.”

“I’m just saying, we have to be cautious. We can’t predict what he’ll do next.”
And he has Maura
.

They had been steadily ascending for nearly an hour, and had seen no other vehicles, no buildings, no evidence at all that anyone resided on this mountain. Only as Cathy slowed to a stop did Jane spot the sign, its post half buried in deep snow.

PRIVATE ROAD
RESIDENTS ONLY
AREA PATROLLED

“Makes you feel welcome, doesn’t it?” said Cathy.

“It also makes me wonder why they’re so afraid of visitors.”

“Interesting. The chain’s down, and this road’s been plowed as well.”

They started down the private road, Cathy’s SUV rolling slowly over pavement coated with an inch of recent snow. The pines were thick here, casting the road in claustrophobic gloom, and Jane could see little beyond the evergreen curtain. She stared ahead, muscles tensed, not certain what to expect. A hostile interception by The Gathering? A burst of gunfire from a frightened boy? Suddenly the trees parted and she blinked at the view of open sky, cold and bright.

Cathy pulled onto an overlook and braked to a stop. Both women stared down in shock at what was once the settlement of Kingdom Come.

“Dear God,” Cathy whispered. “What happened here?”

Black ruins dotted the valley. Charred foundations marked where houses had once stood, the two rows forming a strangely orderly record of destruction. Among the ruins, something was moving, something that trotted arrogantly between the burned-out houses, as though this valley now belonged to him and he was merely surveying his domain.

“Coyote,” said Cathy.

“This doesn’t look like an accident,” said Jane. “I think someone came in and torched those buildings.” She paused, struck by the obvious. “Julian.”

“Why would he?”

“Rage against The Gathering? Revenge for throwing him out?”

“You’re pretty quick to blame him for everything, aren’t you?” said Cathy.

“He wouldn’t be the first kid who’s torched a house.”

“And destroy his only available shelter for miles?” Cathy heaved out an agitated breath and shoved the gearshift back into drive. “Let’s get closer.”

They started down the valley road, and through intermittent stands of pine, Jane caught other views of the settlement, the destruction more appalling with every new glimpse. By now the sound of their vehicle had filtered down the slope, and the lone coyote fled toward the surrounding woods. As their SUV drew closer, Jane spotted dark lumps scattered across the nearby field of snow, and she realized that they, too, were coyotes. But they were lying motionless.

“Jesus, it looks like the whole pack was slaughtered,” said Jane.

“Hunters.”

“Why?”

“Coyotes aren’t real popular in ranching country.” Cathy pulled to a stop beside the first burned foundation, and they both stared across the field of dead animals. At the edge of the woods, the lone surviving coyote stood watching them, as though he, too, wanted answers.

“This is weird,” murmured Jane. “I don’t see blood anywhere. I’m not sure those animals were shot.”

“Then how’d they die?”

Jane stepped out of the SUV and almost slipped on ice. Snowmelt from the fire had flash-frozen into a hard glaze that was now dusted with an inch of white powder. Everywhere she looked, she saw scavenger prints on that fine layer of snow. The destruction stunned her. She heard Cathy’s boots crunch away across the ice, but Jane remained beside the vehicle, staring at the jumble of charred wood and metal, here and there spotting a recognizable object in the ruins. A shattered mirror, a scorched doorknob. A ceramic sink, filled with a miniature ice rink of frozen water. An entire village reduced to rubble and ashes.

The scream was piercing, every echo flying back from the mountains like shards of glass. Jane bolted straight in alarm and saw Cathy standing at the far edge of the ruins. Her gaze was fixed to the ground, her gloved hand clapped over her mouth. In jerky robotic steps she began to back away.

Jane started toward her. “What is it? Cathy?”

The other woman did not answer. She was still staring downward, still in a stumbling retreat. As Jane drew closer, she spied bits of color on the ground. A scrap of blue here, a fleck of pink there. Fragments of cloth, she realized, the edges shredded. As she moved beyond the last burned foundation, the snow became deep and more riddled with scavenger tracks. The prints were everywhere, as if coyotes had staged a hoedown.

“Cathy?”

At last the woman turned to her, and her face was drained of color. Unable to speak, all she could do was point to the ground, at one of the dead coyotes.

Only then did Jane realize that Cathy was not pointing at the animal, but at a pair of bones poking up like slender white stalks from the snow. They might have been the remains of wild animal prey, ripped apart and gnawed on by predators, except for one small detail. Encircling those bones was something that did not belong to any animal.

Jane crouched down and stared at the pink and purple beads strung on a loop of elastic. A child’s bracelet.

Her heart was pounding as she rose back to her feet. She looked across the snowy expanse that stretched toward the trees, and saw craters in the snow where the coyotes had been digging for treasure, fresh meat on which they had begun to feast.

“They’re still here,” Cathy said softly. “The families, the children. The people in Kingdom Come never left.” She stared down at the ground, as if seeing some new horror at her feet. “They’re right
here.”