The Body in the Woods (20 page)

The man whistled as he ran past. “Leave it, Milly, Murphy! Leave it!”

With one last sniff, the dogs took off after the runner.

Nick waited a half minute and then followed. A hundred yards farther on, the trail turned. He couldn't see the guy. He couldn't see the dogs. He could hear them, though, and he was a fast runner. Nick imagined himself an Indian scout, one with nature, able to run silently through the forest for miles. He even leapt over a log. But when he rounded the bend, there was still no sign of anyone, man or beast. Nick put the power on, his backpack thumping with each step, ignoring the fact that his side was starting to feel like someone had stabbed him and left the knife behind.

Finally he reached the edge of the parking lot. He ducked behind a tree. The runner had taken the leashes from his pocket—the same leashes he had probably strangled those girls with—and was clipping them on the dogs. When Alexis came huffing up behind Nick, he turned with his finger on his lips. “He's just putting leashes on them. He hasn't gone near a car. I think he might have walked here.”

Which was good, because it meant they didn't have to try to get close enough to read the license plate. When the runner left the parking lot, they fell into step behind him, keeping about a block behind.

But what if the guy looked back? Nick grabbed Alexis's hand.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, trying to yank it back. One of the dogs lifted its head.

“Pretending we're a couple,” he said out of the side of his mouth. Despite everything that was happening, he felt a secret thrill saying the word. “He's not going to be worried about a couple following him.”

“Oh.” Alexis stopped trying to pull away, but her hand was still a tight knot in his.

After a few blocks, the runner turned up a walkway in front of a house. It was situated on a corner lot, set well away from its neighbors. Nick looked back. They were only five or six blocks from the border of Forest Park. Easy access for anyone who needed to dump a body. A shiver ran over him.

The man unclipped the dogs from their leashes, then unlocked the front door. The dogs bounded into the darkened house ahead of him. Then he went inside and the living room light came on. Alexis ducked behind a telephone pole across the street, and Nick tucked himself in behind her. Through the open blinds, they watched him move through the living room until he turned right and disappeared down what must be a hall.

At the far end of the house, a light came on. Through white lace curtains, they saw a tall figure entering the room and a shorter, slighter one getting off a bed. The shorter one raised its hands in front of its face, as if warding off a blow. Nick sucked in his breath. The tall one was definitely the runner. But the other, the shorter and slighter one? Nick was pretty sure it was a girl. A dark-haired girl. His heart was beating like a crazy windup toy.

The guy was waving his arms, and even from across the street, they could hear the faint sounds of yelling as he moved toward the girl.

As the guy got closer to her and farther away from the door, the girl suddenly ducked under his arm and made a run for it. First out of the room, and then a second later, the front door of the house flew open and she came barreling out. Her eyes were wild, and her feet were bare.

Nick and Alexis didn't have time to move or even breathe before the man appeared, scrambling down the steps after the girl. He lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. He yanked her so hard she stumbled backward.

“No!” she screamed. “No, you can't do this to me! No!”

He didn't answer. He just dragged her back up the stairs, forced her inside, and slammed the door shut.

Wide-eyed, Alexis and Nick stared at each other.

“Is that the girl you know?”

She shook her head. “But I think it's the one I saw him with at the bus stop.”

“Crap!” Nick thought he was going to throw up. “He's probably killing her right now!”

Alexis was already dialing 9-1-1. In a high-pitched voice, she told the dispatcher to send the police and gave them the address of the house. “A man's holding a girl captive there, and I think he's trying to kill her.” Her voice sharpened with urgency. “She just tried to get away, and he dragged her back inside.” After a pause, Alexis put her hand over the mouthpiece. “They have units on the way.”

The cops might be coming, but would they be fast enough? Hadn't Ruby told them that if someone strangled you, you could die in ninety seconds?

But that wasn't going to happen now. Not to another girl. Not if Nick had anything to say about it.

“We've got to stop him,” he said. He didn't know who he was talking to and then he realized it was himself. “We can't let him kill another girl.” He slipped his backpack off one shoulder and blindly yanked out a notebook.

“What are you doing?” Alexis said.

Instead of answering, Nick let the backpack thump to the ground and pounded across the street. He took the two steps in a single bound, his finger already jabbing the button for the doorbell. He had never been more frightened in his life.

Inside, the bell echoed. Nick held his breath. No answering voice. No footsteps. Not even a whisper.

He leaned on the button until it let out a continuous peal.

The runner wrenched open the door. “What?” he snarled. His face was flushed, contorted with anger.

Think, Nick, think!
He pasted the world's fakest smile on his face, and suddenly the words just came to him. “Good evening. Um, I'm going door-to-door today on behalf of Ruby McClure, your independent candidate for mayor.” He flipped open his notebook, which was filled with his biology notes. Hopefully this guy couldn't read his bad handwriting upside down. A lightning bolt of panic shot through Nick as he realized he didn't even have a pen. Still he poised his empty hand over the page as if he were holding one. “So how do you intend to vote?”

The guy stared at him. “Are you talking about the election?”

“Um, yes.” His ears strained to hear the girl, but behind the man the house was silent. Silent as a grave.
Please,
Nick prayed,
please let her be okay.

“The election was over a week ago.”

Obviously he should have paid more attention in social studies. “We're getting a head start on the next one.”

The man's eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”

Widening his eyes, Nick tried to look innocent. “I don't think so.” This angry-looking man bore little resemblance to the happy-go-lucky runner with two dogs he had met a week ago. Nick hoped that, minus his SAR gear, the same was true for him.

From farther back in the house came a noise. Nick held his breath. It sounded like whimpering. His blood turned to ice. He scanned the man's empty hands, checked his waistband for the bulge of a gun. He was taller and heavier than Nick, and from what they had just seen on the trail, faster. But at least Nick couldn't see any weapons.

“Wait a second,” the man said. “Do you know Mallory?”

That must be the name of the girl he was holding captive. The one who was whimpering from whatever he had done to her. But what was the right answer?

The right answer, Nick figured, would be whatever kept the guy talking to him. Because as long as he was talking to him, he couldn't be hurting the girl any further.

“I do know Mallory.” He took a deep breath “And you can't get away with what you're doing.”

“Oh, no?” The runner took a step forward so the two of them were chest to chest. “You don't understand how things work. I'm the one who makes the rules here. I suggest you shut your mouth and leave right now.”

“Or what?” Nick managed to say with a tongue that was suddenly as dry as a desert.

“Or I'll be forced to do something neither of us will like very much.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw the man's right hand begin to rise, the fingers curling into a fist.

It seemed like a good idea to duck, so with a sudden lurch, he did. But they were standing so close that his temple smacked right into the middle of the guy's face. He felt the man's nose give with a sickening crack.

With a shout, the guy staggered backward, blood fountaining from his nose. He put his hands up and pulled them back, staring at the bright crimson with mingled amazement and anger.

“You broke my nose!” he said as he grabbed the shoulders of Nick's jacket.

And just at that moment, three police cars converged on the house, their red and blue lights splitting the night, their sirens deafening. In seconds, officers were out and crouched behind their doors, guns drawn, yelling orders.

A minute later, both Nick and the runner were on their knees on the sharp gravel of the driveway, their hands laced behind their heads. Blood was still dripping from the man's nose. An unmarked car pulled up, lights flashing in the grille, and Detective Harriman got out.

Alexis hurried up to him and began to explain. “That guy's the one who did it.” She pointed. “The runner we saw that day. He's the real killer. He must have strangled them with his dog's leash. And there's a girl in the house that he's holding captive.”

“I don't know who in the hell this chick is,” the runner said, his voice oddly nasal because of his broken nose, “but she's crazy. Don't listen to her.”

But Detective Harriman did. “Captive?” he echoed as he drew his gun. He quickly conferred with a couple of cops and then the three of them went in the house together, guns pointed into the darkness as the men darted around corners and leapfrogged each other.

Nick's heart was pounding in his ears. What would they find? Was the girl even still alive?

A few minutes later, the cops came outside with her. Nick was relieved to see that she was walking under her own power. It was full dark now, but even in the shadows, he could see the silver tracks of her tears.

The girl—Mallory?—was alive. Alive, and as far as Nick could see, uninjured, although she was shivering and hugging herself. Nick could breath again. She was alive and safe. One of the cops shrugged out of his jacket and then draped it over her shoulders. Suddenly she spun away from him, darted over to the runner, and slapped him across the face. And then the cops were pulling her off as she screamed insults at him.

CHAPTER 38

TUESDAY

OBSERVATIONS YOU MISSED

From the introduction to
A Birding Journal

USING YOUR JOURNAL

Take notes on what the specimen was doing as you observed it. Record general behaviors and specific reactions to new events, such as the appearance of a predator or how it interacts with others. Note large actions such as preening, flight patterns, and foraging habits, as well as small movements such as tail bobs, head cocks, or wing stretches.

Record the specimen's appearance, including the brilliance of plumage, any peculiar markings, and any remarkable or unusual features such as missing feathers or signs of illness.

To make the most of your journal, review it regularly. Studying your notes can help you see what observations you missed so you will know what to look for the next time you see a bird. Comparing your notes on similar specimens can help you learn to accurately identify them, and over time you will learn more than you've ever dreamed.

Your detailed notes can be a way to enjoy sightings over and over as you study your observations and remember exactly the circumstances of each sighting and what made it special.

SPECIES NAME

Homeless, also known as street people, hobos, bums, drifters.

INDIVIDUAL SPECIMEN

Tiffany Yee, aged 17.

STUDY SPECIFICATIONS

This 17-year-old female, who had been homeless for approximately eight weeks, had a tracking program covertly installed on her cell phone on November 1 and was then returned to the study area in downtown Portland, Oregon. Her movements and daily activity were monitored until November 12, using GPS coordinates provided by the tracking program. Once her position had been determined, it was possible, on a few occasions, to take advantage of topography and surreptitiously photograph her.

For the purpose of moving her, the subject was immobilized with gamma-hydroxybutyric acid administered orally in Kahlua and cream. Once study was completed, subject was euthanized.

STUDY FINDINGS:

APPEARANCE

Approximately five foot five, 130 pounds. Chinese-American, with light brown skin. Hair straight, approximately 33 cm in length, a beautiful glossy black. Typically dressed in jeans, black boots, and either a red sweater or a gray turtleneck under a black North Face hip-length coat. Carried belongings in a pink Hello Kitty! backpack. Despite poor diet, appeared healthy, except for occasional bouts of coughing.

HABITAT

Nocturnal: Spent nights at Outside In, Porch Light Shelter, the Red Cross Warming Center, the bottom level of a parking garage on Fourth Avenue, and occasionally in parked cars or men's homes. The proportion of time that subject was active in the middle of the night was inversely correlated with the nightly minimum temperature.

Diurnal: Spent days walking in downtown Portland, with occasional forays into Multnomah County Library, McDonald's, and Pioneer Courthouse Square.

FEEDING HABITS

Most meals provided by service agencies. When left to own devices, preferred high-fat, high-salt, high-starch foods such as bread, potato chips, cookie dough, and French fries. Used a variety of illegal drugs as well as cigarettes and alcohol.

BEHAVIOR

When not sleeping at a shelter, did not congregate with other homeless on a regular basis. Frequently spent time at Multnomah County Library, especially when daytime temperature dropped below 40. Had a distinctive walk, fast, with head down, not making eye contact. Occasionally panhandled, stole unattended items, or broke into cars to steal small electronics and/or sleep.