The Fourth Motive (39 page)

In June of 1973, just before Ray’s seventeenth birthday, word came to the Cowells
that Arnold R. Pascoe had become a statistic. He had become one of the more than two
dozen inmates murdered behind the walls of San Quentin that year. The Department of
Corrections official who showed up at the house to notify Ray’s mother was met with
drunken laughter. The official turned over Arnold Pascoe’s few personal effects to
Ray; his mother was too intoxicated to sign for them. Only one of his father’s meager
prison possessions he kept.

A faded black-and-white photograph of a small, smiling boy and his father.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

CHAPTER 47

 

 

Kearns spent the hour after he hung up from Farrell hiking in the hills with sheriff’s
personnel. He led them to the observation post overlooking the property and to the
gear the suspect had left there. The evidence technician photographed everything in
place, and then he and the deputy carefully began examining the items with latex-gloved
hands. Kearns said nothing when the deputy held up the sleeping bag and duffel and
perused the cut-out patches of cloth where the names had been.

“This guy didn’t take chances,” the deputy remarked, poking a finger through the hole
in the duffel bag where Kearns removed the name tag. “We’ll probably find some of
his hair inside the bag, but without a body to match it up to, we’re out of luck.”

Next, Kearns led them along the route he pursued the suspect and to the place where
the suspect stashed his car. They recovered the burlap vehicle camouflage. They also
found Kearns’ ejected shotgun shells, as well as a lot of expended .30 carbine casings
from the suspect’s weapon.

“Looks like it went down just like you said,” the deputy observed, standing up.

“I wasn’t lying,” Kearns said.

“Didn’t say you was. You know how it is; we gotta verify your story.”

“I know.”

Thankfully, they were spared the long hike back. The deputy called someone on his
handheld transceiver and within a few minutes, a sheriff’s patrol car came cruising
up the fire road. Kearns and the deputy rode back; the evidence technician remained
to make a plaster casting of the tire tracks left by the suspect’s vehicle.

When they returned to Elsa’s house, the crime scene technicians were done inside her
kitchen and were outside packing up their gear. Paige was inside cleaning up. At Kearns’
request, the deputy had his dispatcher phone the Napa office of the car rental agency
he’d rented the Jeep from to report the damage to the tires. The deputy also had his
dispatcher phone a tire outlet in Napa to come and replace the tires on Elsa’s Volvo.
The sheriff’s department wanted to keep the tires from Elsa’s car as well as from
the Jeep for evidence. It was by then early afternoon.

Kearns excused himself and entered the kitchen. He began picking up debris and glass
alongside Paige.

“Are you OK?”

She nodded, looking around at the carnage. “This is all my fault.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” he said.

“Can’t I? If I hadn’t come here, none of this would have happened. Aunt Elsa took
me in and almost got killed for her hospitality.”

“What about this psycho who’s after you? You don’t think he had something to do with
it?”

Paige turned to face him. “Of course he did. But it was Dad, and Sergeant Wendt, and
you and your partner who convinced me to come. I was stupid enough to do it, and I
dragged the killer along with me. But Aunt Elsa was the one who paid for it.” She
turned away.

“It’s not your fault,” he said to her back. “It isn’t.”

She said nothing in reply. It took a moment for Kearns to realize she wasn’t speaking
because she was silently crying. Her shoulders slumped and tears rolled down her cheeks.
He was reminded of what Elsa had told him about how the ranch melted away Paige’s
armor to reveal the innocence of the girl inside.

He stepped closer and put his hands on her shoulders. Her crying became more pronounced.
He turned Paige around and pulled her into his chest. Instead of resisting, which
he half expected, she melted into him and buried her face in his neck. Minutes passed.

A deputy poked his head in the rear door, started to say something, but backed out
when he saw Kearns’ expression. Within a few minutes, Paige had composed herself and
stepped back from Kearns. As she did, she looked into his eyes.

“Go upstairs and take a hot bath,” Kearns told her. “Get yourself cleaned up and changed.
I’ll see the deputies off. Then I’ll finish cleaning up the kitchen. Pretty soon,
the car will be fixed and we can go get Elsa and Cody.”

“OK,” she said. She started to walk away. Paige suddenly turned, leaned forward, and
kissed Kearns tenderly on the lips. “Thank you,” she said. She went upstairs. He took
a deep breath and watched her go.

Once the sheriff’s deputies had left, Kearns finished cleaning up the kitchen. He
made sure to wipe all the blood from the cabinets and walls, and mopped the floor
with ammonia.

As he was finishing, two vehicles drove up. One was a truck from a tire store, and
the other was a large tow truck. The two occupants of the tow truck busied themselves
with changing the tires to Elsa’s Volvo, using the winch to lift first one end of
the station wagon and then the other. He paid the tow truck crew out of the money
he’d gotten from Farrell. When that was done, they repeated the procedure with the
rented Jeep. Kearns signed some papers and within an hour, they were done and gone.

He next went into the guest cottage and emerged a half hour later, shaved and showered.
Kearns was wearing jeans, boots, and a T-shirt; a jacket was slung over his shoulder.
It would be twenty degrees colder in the Bay Area than in Napa Valley. His .45 was
tucked in his waistband under the shirt. He packed his remaining things in the Jeep.
By the time he took out the garbage and ensured the cottage, Elsa’s Volvo, and the
house were locked up, Paige was coming downstairs with her hair in a ponytail and
dressed for travel.

“Let’s go,” he greeted her, extending his hand.

“OK,” she said, taking it.

Thirty minutes later, they met Elsa in the emergency room of the Kaiser Hospital in
Napa. She was still wearing her bloody bathrobe but looked remarkably healthy given
what she’d been through. Her head was bandaged and she had a slight limp, but she
seemed her usual vibrant self. A sheriff’s deputy was wrapping up her statement.

“Elsa,” Paige ran to her. They embraced. “I’m so sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for, girl?”

“This is all my fault. If I hadn’t–”

“I don’t want to hear that kind of talk,” Elsa cut her off. “Not a word. This wasn’t
anybody’s fault except that lunatic who’s after you.” Paige nodded and they embraced
again. For a moment, both looked like they were going to cry. Kearns stared at his
shoes.

“Where’s Cody?” Elsa asked the deputy.

“Dog’s at the Napa Valley Veterinary Hospital,” he said. He provided directions.

Elsa signed herself out of the hospital and twenty minutes later, they had Cody in
the back seat of the Jeep and were on the way back to her house. The veterinarian
who treated Cody told them the dog received over forty stitches and had a bullet pass
through and through his flank but would make a full recovery. Kearns paid the vet,
using most of the remaining cash he’d been given by Farrell, leaving him with less
than a hundred dollars. Once in the Jeep, a groggy Cody nuzzled against Elsa and fell
asleep. An IV bag hung from the coat hook, its translucent tube ending under a piece
of tape on one of the Lab’s forelegs.

“So, what’s the plan now?” Elsa asked when they were in the car.

“I’ve got to get back,” Kearns said. “My partner and I have work to do.”

“To catch this madman?”

“Something like that.”

“What about you, Paige?”

“I’m going with him.”

“Wouldn’t it be safer for you to stay out here at the ranch with me and Cody? Surely
you don’t think after what happened today, the stalker will be coming back to Napa
anytime soon?”

“Your aunt’s got a point,” Kearns said. “You’d probably be safer here than in Alameda.”

“Maybe,” Paige said. “But I’ve got to go back. I can’t run from this; I see that now.
And I can’t expose anyone else to it by being around me. Look what happened to Dad,
Mrs Reyes, my co-worker, and now Aunt Elsa? All because they were connected to me.”
She placed a hand on Kearns’ arm. “This is mine; I’ve got to see this through to the
end.” She looked directly at Kearns. “Like you and Vernon Slocum.”

Kearns nodded his assent.

When they arrived back at Elsa’s house, Kearns carried Cody inside and put him into
his doggie bed. He removed the empty IV fluid bag as he was instructed by the veterinarian
and left the dog’s antibiotics on the kitchen table. Paige helped Elsa inside.

“You two get going,” Elsa insisted. “I’ll be all right. But I expect a phone call
from you every day.”

“Of course,” Paige said, her eyes watering again. “I love you, Aunt Elsa.”

“You know I love you, too,” she answered, taking her niece’s face in both hands. “Why
don’t you come and live here permanently? At least take a few months off and rest.
You know money isn’t an issue with either Gene or I. Come stay here with me.”

“I can’t,” Paige said. “My life is back in Alameda.”

“Your life is killing you, honey. You can make a new one here.”

“I can’t,” Paige said again.

“Will you at least think about it?” Elsa pressed.

“OK,” Paige relented, to placate her aunt. “I’ll give it some thought.”

“May I use your phone?” Kearns asked.

“Of course. Use the one in the study.”

Kearns left Paige and her aunt to continue their conversation. He retreated to the
study and closed the door, then grabbed the phone and dialed Farrell’s apartment.
To his relief, Farrell picked up.

“Kevin,” Farrell answered. “I’m glad to hear your voice. I’ve been waiting for your
call.”

“Sorry it took so long. It’s been a busy afternoon.”

“You ain’t the only one who’s been busy. How soon can you get here?”

Kearns checked his watch; it was 6.37pm. “If I push it, under an hour.”

“Push it; we’ve got work to do.”

“You got a line on our stalker?”

“Maybe. Meet me at the Judge’s house as soon as you can.”

“On my way.”

Kearns ended the call and returned to the women. “We have to get on the road,” he
announced. He faced Elsa.

“I’m sorry for what happened here, and the trouble we brought into your home.”

“Nonsense,” she said, looking at her niece. “If you can’t count on family when you’re
in trouble, what good are they?” Elsa looked back to Kearns. “I truly enjoyed meeting
you, Kevin,” she said. She gave Paige a wink. “I hope to see you again.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” he said, extending his hand. “It was an honor to
meet you.”

“Put that handshake away,” Elsa ordered, grabbing Kearns in a bear hug. He smiled
awkwardly.

“Take good care of my niece,” she ordered him. Her eyes twinkled when she stepped
away. “Though I suspect you already have.”

Kearns’ complexion reddened. He thought he detected a faint smile on Paige’s features.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

CHAPTER 48

 

 

Ray sat on the couch, smoking a cigarette and waiting for the taxi to arrive. His
preparations were completed. He was ready. It was time.

Jimmy Chavez had arrived as promised, and with all the things Ray requested. Ray wouldn’t
let him in, instead making the exchange from behind the partially open exterior basement
door.

In addition, he asked Chavez if he had anything that would help him stay awake. “A
pick-me-up,” Ray had said.

For an additional thirty dollars, Chavez sold Ray a small quantity of methamphetamine;
“crank,” he called it. He told Ray if he snorted it, he’d feel like running a marathon.

After Chavez left, Ray popped several painkillers and antibiotics, and began the excruciating
task of cleansing and bandaging his wounds. Sitting in his bathtub, he rinsed his
wounds with Betadine and hydrogen peroxide. After that he showered, washing off the
dried blood and Napa Valley dirt from his body. By the time he finished his shower,
the painkillers were beginning to kick in, and the agonizing pain from his injuries,
as well as the itch and sting of his many insect bites, began to fade to a dull ache.
He vaguely remembered he hadn’t slept, eaten, or drunk anything for well over twenty-four
hours.

When Ray got out of the bathroom, he took several more painkillers and snorted the
entire amount of meth. He’d never used an illegal drug before and didn’t know what
to expect. Blood instantly rushed to his head and he felt a tingle all over his body.
Soon, he not only didn’t feel much pain but felt pretty good. Refreshed, he slathered
antibiotic ointment over his burned face and neck and into the many punctures in his
left forearm and thigh. He was wrapping his wounds with gauze when things went haywire.

All of a sudden, his head became woozy and he felt extremely dizzy. He fell back to
the couch. The room spun around him.

Ray didn’t know how long he sat slumped on the sofa. He couldn’t tell if he was awake
or asleep. He thought he was asleep, because he saw things that he sometimes dreamed
about, but when he looked around, he found himself seemingly wide awake in his basement
room. He was confused. He sat on his couch and was dive-bombed by the model aircraft
swirling above him. Spectral images danced before his eyes.