Chapter 2
TWO
CASEY
Calvin Perkins stared out at Casey from a photograph that had also been featured in an article on the Heartstone newspaper website. Casey had never known this Calvin Perkins, who appeared to be happy and healthy in the snapshot. Not the way he had the last time Casey had seen him alive.
“Who were you really?”
Calvin’s dark, beady eyes creased at the corners, creating crow’s feet that made him almost look friendly.
Not like the snake he’d been when alive, always prepared to strike.
His mouth was wide open and showed his back teeth, like he’d been laughing hard at something the photographer had said.
Or, more likely, at something Calvin had said that he’d thought was hilarious.
He had been such a funny guy according to himself.
Maybe Dwayne had laughed too, assuming he’d been behind the camera.
Neither brother was laughing now. Neither was Casey, but then he’d never found them funny.
The heavy camo gear Perkins wore suggested the man might have been hunting that day.
On the other hand, he’d worn that kind of gear 24/7 and had hunted whenever he’d wanted to—just one reason Casey and Calvin had never seen eye to eye.
He was leaning against his still-missing bright red pickup truck, and that wide-open mouth displayed a desperate need for dental care.
A face only his mother had loved. And, Casey conceded, probably his brother, Dwayne. He still didn’t understand why Kelly had all but forced him to accept the picture.
In it, Calvin looked almost pleasant and jovial. Almost. It was his eyes that gave him away. They held a creepy, animalistic intelligence that reminded Casey of a coyote, one that had strayed too close to human population and now couldn’t stay away.
Who killed you, Calvin? Was it over something you did? Or something you knew?
Casey squinted, peering closer, trying to identify something, anything, that would point him to Calvin’s killer or killers.
He’d looked at this picture hundreds of times since Kelly had given it to him.
She was the only one Casey knew of who cared that Calvin had been murdered and left in a hole to rot.
“This is a copy of one taken last spring,” she’d told him tearfully, wiping her nose with a crumpled tissue. “The only other pictures I have of the boys are from when they were kids.”
Casey suspected there had been pictures of the brothers on their cellphones; he’d seen them snapping selfies often enough.
But those phones had never been recovered, which in and of itself was odd too.
Casey couldn’t come up with a reason for their continued disappearance that didn’t involve bad people doing bad things.
Casey hadn’t been sure how to reply. “It’s a nice picture,” he had finally come up with as he’d tucked the photo away.
Calvin’s body had been discovered a month ago, rolled up in a tarp and dropped into a spruce trap. They formed beneath boughs that did not get as much snow buildup as the area surrounding the tree. Truthfully, a trap was a great place to hide a body.
If not for the Allard-Clarks working with their Newfoundland dogs on their search and rescue skills, Calvin might never have been found.
And considering the length of time the body had been up there and the current state of the area’s law enforcement agency, the chances of his killer being brought to justice were almost nonexistent.
The Twana County Sheriff’s Office was now headed by Bree Eagan, who had been appointed Interim Sheriff until the election came around again.
Casey respected Eagan and would vote for her when the time came.
Unfortunately, due to the fallout from the actions of the previous sheriff, Eli Rizzi, TCSO was in no position to prioritize investigating Calvin’s murder.
Hence the photograph Kelly had tearfully pressed into his hand, as if she wanted to make sure Casey wouldn’t forget about Calvin.
And he hadn’t, had he?
“The case isn’t officially cold, you understand, but we don’t have much to go on due to how long Perkins was missing prior to discovery,” Eagan had explained when he’d asked about the status.
“In fact, it would help morale around the office if something useful did turn up that we could then go forward on. As it is, we need to focus on the day-to-day.”
For reasons Casey wasn’t sure he wanted to do a deep dive into, he felt that meant the responsibility of finding who killed Calvin was on him now.
As far as he was able to determine, he had been the last person to see the older Perkins brother alive—except, of course, the other person that had been up The Valley with them last fall.
Casey still hadn’t been able to identify his attacker, no matter how hard he had tried in the months since.
The silent figure had never been more than an indistinct shadow.
And then there was the Dwayne Perkins issue.
Eli Rizzi had insisted Dwayne had been killed by Deputy Deter Nolan. But Rizzi himself shot and killed Nolan last fall during a suspected kidnapping attempt outside the regional hospital, effectively silencing him, arguing that Nolan had been a bad egg. And now the disgraced sheriff was dead too.
But what if Rizzi had been lying? Protecting himself and others who’d managed to stay hidden in the shadows? The shadows were starting to feel very deep.
Calvin’s irritatingly smug face taunted him.
Never in his wildest imagination had Casey ever thought he’d wish he could talk to Calvin.
He and Calvin had basically hated each other for years.
Perkins was a bully and a poacher. But even bullies, thieves, and other offenders of that ilk didn’t deserve to be murdered, rolled up in a ubiquitous blue tarp, and dropped into a hole in the ground.
So, Kelly Perkins hadn’t been wrong to approach him.
If anyone outside of the Sheriff’s Office could get to the bottom of Calvin’s murder, it was him.
He knew the area where the body was found, possessed decent investigative skills and, as a government-employed forest ranger, had the power of the law behind him.
Plus, it didn’t hurt that his significant other—for lack of a preferable term—was one of the world’s nosiest humans. Gabriel Karne even gave Greta a run for her money. He decided he’d talk to Gabe tonight and run some ideas on what to do past him.
Greta interrupted his brooding. “Penny for your thoughts.”
Casey grunted but didn’t look over at his office mate. Greta had already warned him not to obsess. Too little too late; Casey was officially determined. At least he’d be able to say he’d tried.
He’d intensely disliked the Perkins brothers when they were alive, so this feeling of obligation was a bit of a surprise. But Greta’s Real Talk wasn’t going to stop him.
“Rock, paper, scissors.”
Now he looked up and shot his work partner a fierce scowl. “Rock, paper, scissors, what? Do I want to know?”
Aside from Casey’s self-assigned side project, the two of them were beyond busy with the admin crap that Casey loathed, knee-deep in last-minute scheduling for the upcoming summer camping season.
The last thing Casey wanted to make time for was a child’s game.
Solve a murder and wade through these administrative duties first, then play kids’ games with his best friend and self-assigned work wife. Maybe.
He shook his head and slid the picture back into the top drawer of his desk. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”
“If you win,” Greta continued, ignoring that he was ignoring her, “I’ll do the rest of the new-hire orientations. If I win—”
As if responding to his desperate but silent call for help, Casey’s cellphone rattled violently against the surface of his desk, where he’d deposited it earlier that morning.
Greta dramatically clapped a hand across her chest. “Christ, answer that thing while I finish having a heart attack over here. What setting do you have it on, demonic possession?”
Hiding a smile, Casey pressed Accept and lifted the phone to his ear. “Lundin.”
“Casey.” The voice in his ear had a soft French accent. “Am I interrupting?”
He glanced over at Greta again, who was watching him like a hungry red-tailed hawk hunting for mice in a stubble field on a hot summer day. Hungry and ready to pounce.
Rising to his feet, Casey moved away from his desk and toward the late-morning sunshine that streamed through the windows at the front of their office space. It was a crime he wasn’t outside doing something in it, even something he didn’t enjoy.
“No,” he lied, turning his back slightly to avoid Greta’s piercing gaze. “What’s up?”
“Calling our friend Sheriff Eagan would probably involve la paperasserie—red tape,” Etienne Allard-Clark clarified, “and I do not look forward to that. But perhaps, if you make a trip up here, we can avoid the tape.”
“Right now?” Casey asked.
“Oui. There is, as your partner likes to say, a situation. Maybe it is nothing, but there has been a someone lurking around the building site. We have seen them several times.”
“The forensics crew’s gone, right?” It wasn’t Casey’s job to keep snoopers away from the Snowcap Estates site, where human remains had been found late last fall, but again, he felt an obligation.
Whether some of the remains were those of the missing Suzie Warner or someone else, the gravesite deserved to be properly taken care of, not rummaged through like a bin at a bargain sale. The morbidly curious infuriated him.
“For the time being. I spoke with the head honcho, Ethan Moore, and he said someone would be back, he just wasn’t sure who or when. From the way he spoke, it sounded like the team had been assigned to a more urgent case. Their tape is still up.”
“Ah.”
Whatever the forensics crew had already found was being kept under wraps for the time being. Most likely, someone from the area was impatient or thought they could grab a souvenir. People really were assholes.
Again, Casey thought back to the unknown person who’d clobbered him last November, the last time he’d seen Calvin Perkins alive. Could this lurker be his assailant? Or was this a new individual?
Regardless, the idea of escaping the office thrilled him, and Casey did a mental fist pump. He turned back to Greta and silently mouthed, Gotta go.
Patting himself down with one hand, he found his truck keys in the pocket of his Carhartt jacket and his sunglasses tucked into the chest pocket of his uniform shirt. Always prepared.
“I’ll leave now. Don’t approach whoever it is, they could be dangerous.”
Casey winced. What a dumb thing to say. He didn’t know for certain, but he suspected that, from things they had said, the Allard-Clarks were ex-government agents—or something, as Greta liked to say.
“Phhft.” A very French sound escaped Etienne. “As if we cannot take care of ourselves.”
“Ah, but then there would be that pesky red tape you want to avoid,” Casey said, continuing to ignore Greta’s stare. “Going out on a limb—an hour from now works for you?”
“Ce serait magnifique! Oui. I have fresh baguettes just out of the oven, and Paul purchased a variety of cheeses from la fromagerie at Pike Place Market last weekend. We will feed you for your effort.”
Like the coward he was, Casey kept the phone pressed to his ear as he headed for the exit, avoiding Greta’s glare. “Just to confirm, this isn’t a dangerous situation,” he said, just in case it was.
Bowie hopped up from his dog bed and raced past him to wait by the truck as soon as Casey opened the door.
“Non, an emergency it is not. Just”—Etienne paused—“worrisome. We’ve grown used to the odd visitor due to the events of the past year, but this one seems… troubled.”
Casey’s stomach rumbled at the thought of fresh bread and fancy dairy products, which reminded him it was close to lunchtime. “I would be there regardless of a fresh baguette, Etienne.”
Etienne chuckled. “We know, but it doesn’t hurt to grease the wheel.”
There was a click, and Casey was holding a phone to his ear like an idiot.
“Deserter,” Greta called out after him. “For this, you’re in charge of training the nature program staff this summer.”
Casey looked back over his shoulder. “Greta, you have seniority over me. Was there ever a chance I wouldn’t be?”
“Fair point.” She narrowed her eyes and pointed her ballpoint pen his direction.
“As a federal employee, you shouldn’t accept gifts, but on the off chance you do, I also love baguettes.
Whatever this call is about, report back.
It’s the anniversary of our first date, and Abby’s made plans.
If we have to cancel, I’m siccing her on you. ”
Shoving his sunglasses over his eyes, Casey climbed behind the wheel of his truck. If Etienne and Paul were concerned enough to call him, then Casey was also concerned. The last thing the county needed right now was yet another deadly incident.