Reilly 09 - Presumption of Death (49 page)

He should never have hired Coyote to help him on those first two fires in the first place. He’d given him the whole down payment so he could keep it clean and keep all the rest. Then, up there on the ridge that day, the fire went the wrong direction when the wind came up. He took too long whacking Coyote and changing clothes with him and then he couldn’t get the Doc Martens off Coyote’s feet. How he’d managed to get the pants on him over those boots he’d never know. And he’d really hated sacrificing his concho belt.

By the time he got back to Wish, the fire was so intense he had a few bad moments thinking he might not make it out himself. So he hadn’t hit hard enough with that rock, or been thorough enough, checking to see Wish was dead or near enough. He flashed to grabbing Wish for just a second from behind, the terror that Wish might somehow turn around and look him in the eyes.

Still, all he needed was his money now, and he’d go find some big mountains far away, and it wouldn’t matter that a few things went wrong.

One thing for sure, he’d keep on with the fires.

Fire was the most intense, rushing gusher of relief. Fire filled the emptiness inside him, and he felt fulfilled, caught up in his destiny, active, happening. Productive, destructive, unbelievably powerful.

Born to burn, Danny thought to himself, but he felt hollow and terrified and thought again, now they’re all after me. And there was this surprise that kept pushing up from inside, this dismay, that he had killed Coyote and Donnelly and that woman; if he thought a lot about it he’d hate himself. Later for that, he’d get crazy at some motel out in the desert when he was safe and cry and shout it out and find a way to live with himself.

Next to him, Mikey thought he caught something and in his excitement, tangled the line on a log. They spent a long time disengaging the line and getting him set up again. Danny took the opportunity to mentally talk himself down.

“I don’t think there are any fish in this stream,” Mikey complained.

“Well, we won’t know if we don’t give it time, will we?” Danny asked, proud of how patient he acted with these two pains in the ass.

They moved downstream and Mikey started fishing again. Now Danny was jumping out of his skin with boredom. He hated waiting, but waiting was what was called for right now, and his patience would be rewarded, he was sure of that. He would sneak out later that night and make some calls… get things arranged, finish with the kids, and be on his way to the Big Sky Country. Lots of Natives there. He’d go to powwows and get with the People: he was half Washoe, he would be accepted.

Callie chose that moment to return, both grubby little hands holding bouquets. “Smell this,” she said, shoving some yellow flowers under Mikey’s nose.

“Coconut,” Mikey said, eyes closed. “Tropical.”

“They look like some primroses Grandma planted,” Callie said. “They aren’t open yet. Maybe they open at night like jasmine?”

“I’m hungry,” Mikey observed.

“You didn’t catch any fish?” asked Callie.

“No problem,” Danny said, reeling his line in. “We’ve got other food.”

“I thought you said you knew how to fish,” Callie said.

“The fish just don’t know how to get caught,” Danny said, and Mikey laughed, but Callie just stared steadily at him, and he could see she had a little of her no-nonsense grandma in there, which scared him into giving her a big smile.

Callie, sticking the flowers one by one into an empty Gatorade bottle full of stream water, kept up an incessant, nervous chat that had everybody edgy while Danny and Mikey put the fishing tackle away.

“What’s for lunch?” Mikey asked.

“You can’t be hungry. We just ate. You had two sandwiches.”

“I am. I have to eat now. What have you got for us?”

“Hey, I’m the scout leader here.” Danny grabbed the fishing pole from him and picked up the tackle box. He walked back toward the tent, feeling anger popping like boils all over his body. Damn kids. Who was the boss here anyway? Well, he guessed they would find out soon enough who called the shots.

The kids trailed behind him. When he could speak, he said, as calmly as he could manage, “We’ve got canned Vienna sausage, bread, mustard, Chips Ahoys. A real feast.”

Callie looked interested. “What’s a Vienna sausage?”

“Camp food,” Danny said. “I promise, you’re gonna love it.”

“Do we have to stay here all night?” she asked.

“Yeah, but it’ll go fast.”

“I’m not used to sleeping without my blanky.”

“You’re too old for a blanky,” said Mikey disapprovingly.

“I know, but Grandma says whatever gets you through the night,” Callie said.

“If you’ll just shut up for one second,” Danny promised, “I’ve got a plan for after lunch, an activity we’re going to do together. Then, a little later on, when it gets dark, we’re gonna have some real fun.” He jumped up and put his Nikes on.

“I’m gonna teach you how to build a fire.”

37

P AUL SHIFTED THE BRONCO INTO FOUR- wheel drive and turned left at the jeep road.

“There’s a gate,” Nina said.

“That’s why I have an assistant.”

She got out, wrestled the gate out of the way, and got back in. They bumped slowly along the mogul-strewn dirt road for a few minutes. Going around the first wide bend, they saw an amazing vista of Lake Tahoe swept with wind like a heavenly vision, as insubstantial as an enormous blue cloud below them. “How far do we go? We don’t want him to hear any engine noise.”

“Not far,” Paul said. “He would get far enough from the highway so that the kids couldn’t easily find their way back, but the road isn’t that long.”

They rode a little farther, until, at a spot offering one of the few level borders beside the road, Paul pulled off the road. He drove the Bronco over small logs and up a slight incline, then down into a gully. He got out and opened the trunk. Nina followed him.

“You insist on coming along?” Paul asked.

Nina didn’t bother to answer.

“In that case, we leave the Bronco behind, instead of having one person drive it out. If he comes back up this road, we don’t want him to see there are any other people around. Don’t want to scare him. People like Danny are full of fear. You know that? Full of bravado, not bravery.”

“But…” Nina said, puzzled, “he sets fires. That’s dangerous. If he’s so scared…”

“Scared he’ll get caught. Scared he’ll get hurt. Scared he won’t be respected. We’re going to do nothing that will set him off. Your pack,” Paul said, handing it to her.

She put it on her back.

“Hope we don’t have to go too far,” he said, handing her a jacket, which she tied around her waist. They sat on the bumper lacing their hiking boots. “Prisons are full of Dannys. Some of these guys are terrified of heights. Some are scared of water. Some won’t go on airplanes. They’re superstitious and they’re skittish. That’s why we don’t want to get near him. We scare him, he reacts. Problem is, we can’t predict how.” He finished, stood up, and adjusted the pack on his back.

“We have got to find him,” Nina said. “Paul, we have to be so careful. Those kids…”

“Right. So we sneak. We’ve got to be very quiet, and we have to travel pretty slowly because we’re going to be listening. And he is too. If he’s here, which is a long shot.”

Nina nodded.

They locked up the car and hiked back to the road. The road narrowed and switched back and forth. Before every curve, they held back until they were certain they weren’t going to run into any nasty surprise around the bend. Progress was very, very slow, because they wanted to travel in silence, and afternoon faded into dusk.

Callie would not allow them to toss the trash or even bury it. “We have to hike it out. I saw this show at school.”

The kids had eaten very little. They weren’t really hungry. They just needed their routines.

“Go ahead and bag it,” Danny said, feeling magnanimous. He went into the tent and came out again with a tiny recorder. Mikey, who had been looking unfriendly ever since refusing a second cookie, got curious and came over to see what he had. “That’s old,” he judged. “I had one of those years and years ago.”

“It’ll do the job,” Danny said. “Now, here’s what we’re gonna do. Instead of writing letters, we’re going to talk to them.”

“To Grandma?” asked Callie skeptically.

“Yep.”

Mikey looked even less sure. “What do I say?”

“Say, hey, Mom, Dad, I’m here, all’s cool. That kind of thing.”

“I thought they’re coming tomorrow,” Mikey asked. “Why can’t I talk to my dad?”

“This stupid phone is almost out of juice is why. Just say you can’t wait,” Danny said. “Tell ’em about fishing. Tell ’em you miss them. I’ll play your messages real fast so we get it all in.”

“I do miss them,” Callie said stoutly.

“Well, then say so.”

“Why didn’t you charge it on the car charger?” Mikey said suddenly.

“My friend’s charger won’t fit my phone.” He glared at Mikey.

Callie was first to take hold of the microphone. “Grandma,” she said formally, “it’s awful pretty up here in the mountains today and camping’s great but I miss you.”

“That’s exactly right,” said Danny, taking the microphone from her and putting it into Mikey’s face.

“Mom, Dad,” said Mikey, “I almost caught a fish! I never knew camping could be so fun. Hurry and come.”

“Great,” said Danny. “They’re going to love hearing from you.”

“How will they hear it?” asked Callie. “Aren’t we too far away?”

“They’ll hear it,” said Danny. “We’re up high and the reception is better than at home. That’s a promise.” He switched off the microphone. “You guys like marshmallows?”

Turned out, they did.

“I’m going to show you how to make a fire that can’t be beat,” Danny said. He took some dry wood from the pile he had borrowed from his mother. He showed them how to stack the branches like a pyramid, how to get the fire really hot. They roasted a few marshmallows to perfection, toasty brown.

Danny got up and found three cups. “I’ve got a pot full of water here, and a couple packets of hot chocolate. Who wants some?”

They practically jumped over each other, wanting some.

While the water heated, he prepared the mixture.

“I want this side of the tent,” Mikey said to Callie, who looked nervous, watching the night creep along the landscape.

“You can’t see the lake anymore,” she said, her voice small. “Are the bears going to come out?”

“I’m going to lock every crumb into the truck,” Danny said. “They won’t be able to smell it.” That was a lie, but Danny had enough worries without adding on bears.

“I get this side!” Mikey put his sleeping bag in place to cement the deal.

The afternoon breeze had gone for the day. Watching the small fire flick in the wind, Danny waited for the darkness. When the water in the pot got hot enough, he poured the liquid into the prepared cups.

“I can’t drink this,” Callie pronounced, making a face. “It’s way too hot.”

Mikey gulped the chocolate. “How come things taste so good when you are outside!”

Danny blew over Callie’s cup. “I can make it right,” he said. “Cool it down just the way you like it.”

For the first time that day, the little girl looked happy. “Okay,” she said.

“We need a story, though,” she said when Danny tried to get them into their bags.

“Sure, I’ll tell you a story. You finished up all your hot chocolate? There was the time I was down in Antigua and went out ocean fishing. You can catch fish there that are so big they can pull you right out of the boat!” He had never been to the Caribbean, but he had talked to a guy who had. He talked on, embellishing what he’d heard, making himself the hero, fabricating a lot of lore about marlin fishing he didn’t really know. Actually, as a way of passing the time, storytelling was something he enjoyed.

Both children fell asleep. Danny piled wood on the fire, thinking about his little buddies. If only it were real and they were just on a camping trip. He didn’t want to hurt them. He’d played with them and had some fun with them and they’d never called him a loser. They weren’t like sneaky Nate with his weird talk.

He looked into the dark forest, wondering if he was being hunted. He would never go to jail. The kids could go out in a blaze of glory with him and never grow up, always be happy and fishing and roasting marshmallows.

“It’s dark,” Paul said. He took his pack off and sat down on a fallen log.

“Yes.” Nina joined him. They had crawled up and back on the jeep trail several times, foraying beyond wherever they thought a car might break through the trees and brush to a hiding place. They took water bottles out, and drank.

“Just remember, if a bear chases you and follows you up the tree to eat you, it’s a black bear. If it knocks the tree down and eats you, it’s a brown bear,” Paul said.

“There aren’t any grizzlies up here,” she said, “only black bears that like berries a lot. They’re big bluffers, and would much rather eat your garbage than you.”

“You know they can get to six hundred pounds?”

“Are you trying to scare me or comfort me? Anyway, until you mentioned them, I wasn’t worrying about bears.”

“I know.”

They wolfed protein bars. “The question is, should we head down to Spooner Lake, even though it’s dark?” Paul asked.

“I’ve been thinking. I just could swear I saw something in Connie’s eyes,” Nina said. “Just there at the end. Remember when she was talking about how Danny thought nobody cared if he lived or died and she said she did?”

“I remember.”

“She said, ‘Go ahead, track him down.’ I think she wants us to find him,” Nina said. “All that other information was to convince herself she wasn’t giving him away.” She got up, stiff-legged, and put her pack on her back. “I think she knows he’s here.”

“I think he couldn’t have brought these kids so far up,” Paul said. “We should try Spooner Lake.”

“No, Paul, he’s here!”

In the moonless night, she could just make out his shrug. “Up we go,” he said.

Danny closed the flaps down on the kids’ tent and tied it shut. Considering the number of pills he had ground up in their chocolate, they wouldn’t bother him until noon.