Page 23

TWENTY-THREE

CASEY

Friday

Casey knew he’d dropped the ball, and he felt terrible about it. He should have stopped by Elton’s first thing and told him about finding Gordon’s truck. But he hated being the bearer of bad news, so after Karne had slammed out of headquarters, Casey had spent some time catching up on unfinished paperwork. He’d checked in with Randy from Waste Management about the dumpster of despair, he’d retrieved the trash from the battlements and checked on the RV campers lodging at the beach. Then he’d gone home using the excuse he needed to gather his thoughts, which was known commonly as a procrastination tactic. He’d taken the coward’s way out and, as Charming Fucker had pointed out, let the sheriff’s sycophant deliver the news.

Now his thoughts were gathered. Bowie had eaten. Casey’d chomped down a handful of raw veggies and hummus. The morning cereal bowl and coffee cup were washed and put away. There was nothing left for him to do but head over to Elton’s and apologize. Elton wasn’t Gordon’s bio family, but he’d taken the younger man under his wing just like he had Casey.

“Shall we do the thing?”

Bowie cocked his head. Duh. Of course.

Out of habit, Casey double-checked to make sure his hard drive was stashed away in the locked drawer then pocketed his keys. Before he could take his coat off its hook, Bowie jumped to his feet and raced to the companionway with a warning bark. Make that several warning barks.

Then Casey heard the metallic clink of the marina’s security gate closing and the thump of footsteps approaching the end of the pier where the Barbara was moored.

“Christ, what now?”

It wasn’t Elton. The steps were moving too fast for it to be the older man. And the other boat owners never randomly stopped by at this time of year, especially not at night. That left the one infuriating option: Gabriel Fucking Karne. Casey did not want to deal with Karne’s brand of horseshit right now. Not when he felt guilty about fucking up already.

Aggressive banging on the hull was followed by Karne’s voice. “Lundin, open up. I know you’re in there. This is important, Elton is missing.” The boat rocked, meaning that Gabriel was climbing aboard regardless of permission. Bowie, inexplicably, stopped the frantic barking and swung his tail back and forth.

“Really? This guy?” Casey said to the dog. “The door’s unlocked, come aboard,” he called out to his unexpected— unwanted —visitor.

Seconds later, Karne descended into the cabin, his chest rising and falling quickly like he’d run all the way from Elton’s. Or at least from his car to the end of the dock.

“Elton is missing,” Karne repeated .

“Hold on a minute.” Casey held his hand up, palm out, index finger raised. “How can you be sure?”

From his body language and expression, Casey knew that Karne was convinced there was something wrong. But couldn’t there be a reasonable explanation?

“His truck is parked in front of his house, but he isn’t there,” Gabriel said breathlessly. “I went to the store and when I came back, he was gone. There’s no sign of him. I looked through the house and around the yard, just in case. Also, the door was unlocked.”

“As much as I hate it, a lot of folks leave their doors unlocked around here. Maybe a friend picked him up?” Casey suggested.

That stopped Karne, but only for a moment. He shook his head.

“No, I was on for dinner. It’s the least I can do since he’s letting me stay there and do some laundry. So why would he up and leave? And even if he did, I think he’s the type who would leave me a note.”

“Why couldn’t he have left a message on your phone? Have you checked?”

Karne’s expression turned wary.

“I lost my phone and haven’t replaced it. For the reasons I’ve already mentioned. Concrete loafers.”

This guy was a piece of work. But then, so was Bowie, who’d brushed the top of his head under Karne’s hand as if he wanted attention from the man. Karne’s fingers absently drifted across the dog’s soft ears several times, earning Charming Fucker another wag of the tail before Bowie flopped down on his bed.

“Seriously, me not having a phone is good. The last thing we need right now is my trouble finding me here on Heartstone.”

“How can we be sure your ‘trouble’ hasn’t found you already? Maybe that’s why Elton is missing? ”

“Look, Lundin.” Karne was scowling at him. “If my trouble had figured out where I am and I haven’t seen them around yet, they’re more likely to leave me a message that I wouldn’t be able to mistake for anything else. Or they would’ve waited until I got back from the store. Maybe they’d have tied Elton to a chair and threatened him in my presence. Maybe even killed him while making me watch. They do not care for excess baggage, and kidnapping is not on their resumés. So maybe instead of flipping me shit, you check your damn phone.”

He’d known Karne was going to be a problem when he first encountered him in the campground, and every confrontation since then had only reinforced his opinion.

Casey stared at the man who’d barged into his house. Sighing, he plucked his phone off the table where he’d left it earlier and tapped the screen. “Nope. No phone calls from Elton.”

“Try his number.”

Without acknowledging the order, Casey pressed Call. Elton’s number rang, and Casey thought he’d heard a click like it was being answered for a second. Then it continued to ring and went to voicemail.

“Elton, this is Casey, just wondering where you are. Give me a call ASAP. Thanks.”

“Wow, you really do like to boss everyone around.”

“I thought you were worried about Elton, not my social skills.”

“You call those social skills? But”—Karne held up his hand—“you’re right. We can discuss the lack of them at a later date. Can we at least agree, for the time being, that Elton’s disappearance doesn’t have to do with me, and bust a move? Elton is out there somewhere, and I think he’s in danger. ”

By mutual agreement, they left Karne’s car parked at the marina. Bowie rode in the back seat, refusing to sit down, his nose pressed to the passenger window as if he understood their mission. The three-minute drive was tense and quiet except for the sound of Bowie’s shuffling and the patter of rain on the Wagoneer’s roof.

Everything seemed normal when they arrived. Elton’s truck was in front of the house and the inside house lights were blazing. Casey held on to hope that Karne had been wrong, hadn’t looked in all the possible places Elton could be. Which, as Karne had pointed out, weren’t many. Reaching across Karne, Casey grabbed a flashlight out of the glove box.

“Always prepared,” Karne muttered.

“Damn right.” Casey popped open his door. “Let’s make sure he’s not here before we start calling around.”

They trudged across the muddy yard to the stand-alone workshop located behind Elton’s house. It was dark inside, and Casey tugged at the handle. Locked up tight with a chain and padlock. From the rust and grit on the chain, Casey thought it had been a while since Elton had been back there.

“That seems solid,” Gabriel said, his breath misting in the cold. “I don’t think he could’ve locked himself inside.”

Gabriel was right behind him, standing close enough that Casey imagined he could feel his body heat. It was a distracting, unwelcome thought.

He stepped to the side, away from Gabriel. “Yeah, no.”

Retracing their steps, Casey shone his flashlight around the muddy ground between the house and the metalwork building, looking for footprints that weren’t theirs. As he did so, the rain started to come down hard again, a sheet of heavy mist that immediately permeated all clothing. Dammit, Bowie was the only one with appropriate outerwear for the weather. Casey cursed himself for not grabbing his slicker. It was completely Karne’s fault for discombobulating him.

“I don’t see any footprints,” Casey said. “If there were any, the rain washed them away already.”

“I suppose you have plaster handy so you can make a mold if we find some,” Gabe snarked. “Maybe a magnifying glass?”

Casey started to point out that they had a serious situation on their hands when it occurred to him that obnoxious humor must be a coping mechanism for Karne. Kind of like cops joking over crime scenes. It didn’t mean they didn’t care, it was just a laugh or cry impulse. He may distrust the guy and find Karne generally unlikeable, but Elton didn’t.

“Actually, investigators don’t use much true plaster anymore, it’s too fragile.”

“Thanks for the info, Sherlock.”

It would be so easy to disappear Karne into the ravine on the other side of Elton’s workshop, just a gentle push and he would be out of Casey’s hair for a while. Too bad Casey wasn’t a homicidal killer. He’d just have to deal with the man.

“Let’s check the house,” he said with a sigh. “I know you said you looked, but two pairs of eyes and all that.”

Casey went in through the front door first. “You take the right, I’ll go left.”

It took him about two and a half minutes to search the bedrooms and bathroom and conclude that there was no Elton to be found. When Casey emerged from the hallway again, Karne was in the living room with Elton’s cell phone in his hand.

“What are you doing? Where did you find that?”

“It was beeping, probably from when you called just now. I found it stuck in the recliner.” Karne glanced up at him. “It’s not password protected, which I am currently thankful for. I remembered that Elton said earlier he was going to make some calls. It looks like there are three outgoing calls since yesterday and two incoming. But I don’t recognize any of these numbers, of course.”

“Let me see.”’

Casey took the proffered phone but doubted he would recognize the numbers either unless they were his own or park headquarters. It didn’t hurt to look. Pressing the call screen so it lit up again, he scanned the calls.

“I don’t know them either, not off the top of my head.” He started to set the phone back on the charger next to Elton’s empty recliner, but something near his heart twinged and he had to look away from it.

Looking at Gabriel Karne was better than Elton’s empty chair. In spite of his flawed personality, it wasn’t a hardship.

He kept the phone in his hand.

“What do you think?” Casey asked him. “Should we redial and see who answers?”

“Are you asking me?” Gabriel asked. “I thought you didn’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust you,” Casey confirmed. “Absolutely not. But I’m willing to listen to your opinion.”

Karne shot him a glare. “I’m wondering what it will take for trust, but that’s a question for another time. Yes, I think one of us should call those numbers.”

The first outgoing number of the day turned out to be for the prescription refill center in Westfort. Casey disconnected as soon as he heard the robot voice telling him to enter his patient ID. No one answered the second, there was just a generic message that he’d reached blah blah number and he could leave a message after the tone. Casey did not leave a message; instead, he clicked to the third number .

“Hello?” Someone said after three rings. The voice was male and, Casey thought, older. “Mr. Cox?”

Not too old to check caller ID though.

“Hi.” He glanced over at Gabriel, who watched him closely, hands on hips. Maybe they should have rehearsed what they wanted to say. Maybe he should have let the charming asshole do the talking. “Actually,” he said, “this is Ranger Casey Lundin using Elton’s phone.”

“Ah, and why are you calling?”

Dammit, he still couldn’t quite place the voice. He decided to go with the truth, but not all of it.

“I’m looking for Elton, he’s not at home. He called you today and I’m wondering if he said anything that might give me a hint as to where he could be.”

There was silence for a moment.

“He didn’t call me for legal advice, if that’s what you want to know. I don’t practice anymore, but I still respect client confidentiality. Frankly, I’m a bit surprised to hear from you.”

Casey’s entire body went cold, as if someone had poured ice water down his back and also directly into his veins. He knew he should have recognized the voice, but he hadn’t heard the man speak for years. Since returning to Heartstone, he’d actively avoided him, which hadn’t proved to be difficult.

The man on the other end of the line was John Stevens, Esquire, and until a few years ago, he’d been the District Attorney for Twana County. John Stevens had played a large role in putting his brother behind bars. Why had Elton called him ? Casey’s first instinct was to slam the phone down, but he didn’t.

“Can I ask why he called you if it wasn’t for legal advice?”

Stevens was silent again. Casey tapped Gabe on the wrist, raised his eyebrows, and shook his head questioningly. Do you know ?

Gabe frowned and shrugged. No idea, he mouthed.

“I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you. Elton wanted to know who in the area practiced property law. Now, I know that everyone thinks lawyers all belong to a cult and are on a first-name basis, but we don’t, and we aren’t.”

“Did you refer him to someone?”

“No one he couldn’t find on the internet or get off a billboard along the highway.” Stevens rattled off several names that even Casey, who lived as much off the grid as he could, recognized.

“Did he ask you anything else?”

“No, that was the extent of the conversation. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get back to what I was doing.” The line went dead.

“Probably interrupted his online class teaching baby lawyers how to properly line their coffin beds so sunlight doesn’t kill them,” Casey muttered, staring at the phone screen.

“Excuse me,” Gabe said with a half-laugh, “what’s that about?”

Casey looked over at Gabriel, whose eyes glittered with amusement. He was a dangerous Charming Fucker.

“Never mind. That was John Stevens. He used to be the DA around these parts. We have a history.”

“Ah, your brother?”

Casey nodded, not wanting to think about Mickie right now. “Anyway, if Stevens is telling the truth, Elton asked him about property lawyers, but Stevens didn’t have anything to tell him. Or so he claims. Why was Elton asking about property law?”

Gabriel moved to sit down on the couch, his hands clasped behind his head. “We were hypothesizing this morning about things, and Elton wondered if there was something about Gordon’s property behind his disappearance and Dwayne’s murder. ”

“Huh. He could be onto something, but I’m not sure why a property lawyer would be helpful.” Casey perched his butt on the edge of the small table. “The land around Gordon’s and farther up the road is a mix of public land, state and federal, as well as a few private parcels like Gordon’s. We—my coworker Greta and I—are tasked with the impossible job of keeping it safe. I was just up there. Tuesday morning, in fact, and I had an unpleasant run-in with Calvin and Dwayne. Had to confiscate most of their mushroom harvest.”

“We know they both survived the incident because I had the displeasure of meeting them at the gas station where Gordon works.”

“Hm.” Casey bit the inside of his lip. “You found Dwayne yesterday.”

“Even with the weather, he was starting to stink, so I’m guessing he was probably killed sometime Tuesday.”

“A forensic expert, are you?”

Gabriel grinned. “Can’t beat bingeing NCIS.”

Suppressing an answering smile, Casey moved to one of the chairs, sitting forward so he could rest his forearms on his thighs. “What else do you remember?”

Gabriel looked up at the popcorn ceiling and blew out a big breath.

“I didn’t stay long once I realized what I was looking at.”

“Go through your movements. From the time you arrived until you got back in the truck.”

“Okay… I parked and got out, avoided several mud puddles. The rain had let up a bit. I called out for Gordon and got no answer. But I didn’t expect one.” He met Casey’s gaze. “You know how you just can tell when no one is there? When a place is empty? It felt like that. But I’d promised Elton I’d check, so I walked over to the nailed-together sticks Elton called a shed. After a moment of absolutely not wanting to op en that door, I did it anyway. And there Perkins was, on his back at the other end of the structure, his arms flung out. I didn’t see a gun.”

Casey nodded. “So, do you think he was killed there or could it have been staged?”

“My level of crime-show bingeing has not blessed me with that level of expertise. But with the splatter, I’d guess so?”

“Nothing else?”

“There wasn’t a note from the killer pinned to his jacket confessing to the crime, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Casey ignored that comment. “Nothing that seemed obviously out of place or weird to you?”

“How would I know what is out of place if I’d never been there before?”

“You’d be surprised what the subconscious mind notices. Shut your eyes, walk yourself through what you saw, heard, maybe even smelled.”

To Casey complete non-astonishment, Gabriel did not immediately close his eyes.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, my subconscious has been stored in the back of a closet most of my life. It’s dusty and out of practice. This had better help us find Elton because a waltz down memory road is not the thrill you think it is.” Placing his hands on his thighs, Gabriel inhaled a deep breath and scooted down on the couch to rest his head on the back cushion. “I think we’d get better results if I was laying back on a nice soft velvet couch and you were a sexy hypnotist, but,” he sighed, “this will have to do.”

“Just go with it, for Elton.”

“For the record, I’m not doing this for you.”

“Yes, understood. Do your best Sarah Bernhardt, I know you can.”

“I know who that is, and I don’t think I appreciate your humor. But on the other hand, you finally appear to have one—a sense of humor, I mean—which is a bit of a shock.”

“We’re not here to discuss my humor or lack thereof, Karne. Do you think you can get with the program?”

“Okay, but next time it’s you who’s supine on the couch and me asking the questions,” he grumbled.

Casey forced his lips downward. He wasn’t allowing himself to find the conversation amusing, or at least wasn’t clueing Charming in on his amusement. Gabriel Karne was not entertaining, he was a menace. And Casey wasn’t going to argue about the definition of supine.

“Fine. Anything to get you to cooperate.”

Gabriel lifted his eyelids ever so slightly and shot Casey a quick glance that he refused to find appealing. He was not amused, not charmed, and definitely not fooled.

“Tough customer,” Gabriel murmured.

Casey watched as Gabriel’s eyes began to twitch underneath his eyelids.

“Okay, blah, blah, driving in. Potholes and mud. I’m parking. Maybe there were tire tracks that looked fresh? Not sure. I got out and walked toward the shed even though I didn’t want to. When I got close to it, I definitely smelled something faint but gross. Is that out of place enough for you? Anyway, I really didn’t want to open the door. Oh, yeah.” Those surprisingly green eyes opened again. “Gordon must be doing some work or something. There’s a plastic tarp off to one side of the shed with one of those five-gallon buckets underneath it. The kind they sell at a big box hardware store. This one was white.”

That was curious. “Was there anything inside it?”

“Nope, sorry, did not stop to look. Once I saw the body in the shed, I was out of there like a bat out of hell. Didn’t even remember it until now. I mean, a guy can work on his own property, right? ”

Yes, Casey agreed that a person had that right. But it was the container itself that had him thinking. And if he was right, this whole thing—including Gordon going to jail—was all about the money.

“The Perkinses had that kind of bucket when I busted them Tuesday. That’s how they were transporting the chanterelles.”

“I’m asking, again, how is a bucket of shrooms going to help us figure out where Elton is? He didn’t drive up there to check out the scene at Gordon’s tonight. His truck is still right here. Although I am going to be embarrassed if he shows up and we’ve called out the National Guard.”

The bucket was the key, Casey was sure it was. It was possibly the key to what had happened to Dwayne and definitely why Gordon had been set up to go to jail for a few months. To get him out of the way. Gourmet mushrooms were big money, and it seemed like someone who was not Gordon may have discovered them on his property—or, more likely, adjacent to it, on federal land.

“I have an idea why Elton was asking about property lawyers, but I think he’s on the wrong track.”

“Why?”

“Property lawyers help owners deal with land surveys and stuff like that.”

“Surveys?” Karne repeated.

“Mineral and oil rights, that sort of thing.”

Except Casey suspected that in this case it was fungi . Or access to fungi. He could be wrong, but the white bucket told him he wasn’t.

“So… persons unknown think there is something valuable on Gordon’s land and want it for themselves? How very basic.”

“Right. Spring and the fall. That’s mushroom-harvesting season around here. Spring for morels and fall for chanterelles, serious money. The haul I confiscated from the Perkinses earlier in the week probably had a market value in the thousands.”

“Holy shit.”

“That about sums it up.”

“But mushrooms?” Gabriel was shaking his head. “Killed for mushrooms? Sent to jail because of mushrooms?”

“People have killed for more ridiculous things. At least fungi are real.” He had a thought. “I’m going to call my State Department of Agriculture contact. When I talked to her the other day, she commented that there’s been a lot this year. I didn’t think she meant anything by it at the time, just the normal griping. But maybe she meant measurably more passing through her office? Which possibly translates to even more mushrooms making it to the black market. That’s what I mean about following the money.”

“Yeah, I’m all about following the money,” Gabriel said, his tone too knowing for Casey’s comfort.

He didn’t doubt Gabriel’s sentiment. He didn’t know the details of Gabriel Karne’s game yet, but he’d figured it was all about money from the get-go.

“Huh. A black market for fungi. The things I learn. I think some sort of conspiracy to get a guy’s land for gourmet mushrooms seems too complicated. Cons should be easy so mistakes aren’t made.”

“It’s big money and it’s poaching, just like killing deer or elk offseason and without the right permits. It’s illegal, and the poachers intend to profit from it. No one has enough family to consume one hundred and seventy-four pounds of mushrooms, like the guys who were busted a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t catch that one, it was Fish and Game.”

“You sound kind of sad it wasn’t you.” Gabe rose to his feet and crossed over to peer out the window. He turned to look back at Casey. “I’m impressed by all this logic, I really am, and I’ll go with it for now. But we still don’t know where Elton is.”

Casey hadn’t forgotten about Elton being missing, but he had gotten caught up in putting everything together. At least, he thought they’d figured out the big picture. The details would emerge soon enough.

“Who would be ballsy enough to just grab Elton? I can’t see him going without putting up a fight.”

They were both quiet for a second.

“Should we just call the sheriff and report Elton missing?” Gabriel asked. “He is elderly.”

“Don’t let him hear you call him that. Besides, they’ll likely point out that Elton is an adult and can do what he wants. And he is not vulnerable, he has all his faculties. Although I think it’s possible that Althea Mortine—she’s been the secretary at the TCSO since I was a kid—has her cap set for Elton. She might take us seriously.”

“She might take you seriously,” Gabriel said pointedly. “I’d rather not bring myself to the sheriff’s attention.”

“You mean, more than you already have?”

“Yeah, that.”