Chapter 6
SIX
CASEY
Casey surveyed the area around the big cedar. He was even more convinced that, unless he had help, David Warner was likely not involved in Calvin’s death. The terrain was scraggy and only becoming more so. Although—
“What’s that way?” Since he was usually in his truck and driving through, Casey wasn’t as familiar with the geography on this side of the road.
Maybe there was another one that wasn’t marked on area maps.
It wouldn’t shock him—people up The Valley were secretive and enjoyed pulling the wool over the feds’ eyes.
It was surprising that the couple with him had ever taken a liking to him.
It was Etienne who answered. Etienne baked and trained seemingly guileless dogs in these woods, but Casey had no idea what Paul’s “hobbies” were. Whatever it was, he suspected it had to do with weapons.
“I’m sure you know that we’re very close to the national park boundary, maybe just a country mile away—whatever the hell that is,” Etienne said.
He swiveled, looking northward. “There’s a faint road that way, probably left over from logging days, leads to a small ravine.
” He pointed west. “It comes in from above, but the turn-in is almost impossible to find. It’s more obvious down this way. ”
“Show me?”
Casey was again thinking about Calvin Perkins and his extensive knowledge of the area. And Snowcap Estates. For all of Calvin’s faults, which were many, he had loved the forest.
Yes, he’d been a poacher and yes, things had come apart at the seams by the end of his life.
But what if, like Casey, the brothers had been trying to protect the forest, just in their own crackpot way?
An outrageous thought, yet Casey hadn’t been able to come up with any better reason why Calvin kept coming here before he disappeared.
“This way,” said Paul.
The road was faint, but Casey figured Etienne was right and that it had been built by early loggers who’d often used mules or horses to drag out felled trees.
They’d been walking for about fifteen minutes when the track began to slope vaguely downward.
They must have been nearing the ravine Etienne had mentioned.
“It’s gorgeous out here. I can’t believe I didn’t know this was here,” Casey commented.
“You know how it is. Maybe it was never surveyed,” Paul replied. “We’re on national forest land now.”
“How much further does this go?” Casey didn’t think it could be that long.
Etienne shrugged. “Who knows? Would you like to find out?”
As it turned out, the hint of a lane curved down and along the edge of the small canyon for about another half mile. Casey’s stomach growled, loudly enough for Etienne and Paul to hear. But he forgot about being hungry when they rounded what turned out to be the last curve and hit a steep grade.
“Que diable!”
At the bottom of the slope was a white SUV mostly hidden by brush and shrubs. Casey moved closer, noting that the vehicle rested against large rocks, with the driver’s side wheels slightly off the ground. Not that he was an expert on cars, but he thought it was a recent model.
“This looks like it’s been here for a few months, at least. We haven’t come this far since last summer,” Paul said.
Casey agreed that it had been there for a while. There’d been nothing to indicate a car had recently driven along the overgrown road, no crushed grass or freshly broken branches. More significantly, there were no imprints in the mud, meaning that the winter rains had washed any tire tracks away.
Etienne tried the driver’s door and found it either locked or jammed shut. He peered in through the tinted windows, using one hand to shade his eyes.
“There’s something in the back. Not a body,” he added, as if knowing Casey’s next question.
Meanwhile, Paul had climbed around to the passenger side of the car.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Paulie. Casey and I will not carry you back home.”
Paul responded with a grunt, and the SUV rocked slightly as he tugged the front passenger side door open and leaned inside, then began rummaging in the storage compartment and footwell. Casey scrambled around to give him a hand.
“I definitely will not drag the both of you,” Etienne said, louder this time, exasperation tingeing his words.
“Anything in the glove box?” Registration papers would make it easier for Casey to locate the legal owner.
“Nope.”
Casey tugged on the back door until it opened with a painful creak that echoed out across the expanse of the ravine. He didn’t see anything in the seats or footwell, but when he angled himself so he could see into the cargo area, he spotted the carry-on suitcase that Etienne had seen.
“It’s a roller bag. God, it stinks in here. Let’s hope it’s mold and not something worse.”
He climbed onto the seat and reached back for the case, the car rocking ominously. Something metal screeched.
“Shit.”
“Hurry it up, Ranger.”
Casey wasn’t going to argue that he was hurrying it up; he didn’t want to be inside the vehicle for a second longer than necessary.
Whoever had dumped the SUV had hoped it would keep rolling and basically disappear, he was sure.
But it had come to rest here, stopped by rocks that didn’t quite qualify as boulders.
Casey gripped the case and dragged it over the seat as fast as he could, but it caught on the headrest, and he had to wiggle it free. The car rocked and then again.
“The vehicle is about to slip further down the hillside!” Etienne yelled. And take Casey along with it was left unspoken.
He inched backward, the car seesawing as he changed positions.
“Fuck it, I’m coming out hot. Watch out,” Casey yelled and scooted backward as fast as he could. The rocks held, but he would’ve lost his balance and ended up at the bottom of the ravine if Paul hadn’t risked his own life by grabbing Casey’s belt and steadying him.
“That was too fucking close.” Paul was breathing hard, hands on his hips, after righting Casey. “I hope this bag is worth it.”
“Yes, I also hope this. I did not move here only to have my partner crushed by a shitty American car.”
It had been too close. Casey was filing it away in the part of his brain that stored the risky things he wasn’t going to tell Gabe or Greta about. He looked up and around, realizing that while he knew where it was, he couldn’t see the road from where they were standing.
“How would you prefer I go, Etienne?” Paul asked, eyebrows raised in what even Casey could tell was deceptive innocence. “If I remember correctly when we first—er, met, a literal firestorm of bullets was directed at me.”
“Meh,” Etienne said, dismissing the comment with a wave of his hand.
“Let’s see if there’re any clues to the owner in here,” Casey said to distract the couple. He carried the bag away from the car and set it down on the ground.
“Whoever did this didn’t make sure the car had disappeared or at the very least check to see if anything was in the back first. Bad people do such shoddy work these days. When I clean up, I clean up,” Etienne said.
As with the flying bullets, Casey decided to ignore this last comment.
“Are you really complaining about evidence?” Paul asked his partner.
“I am just pointing out shit work when I see it. Amateurs,” Etienne replied with a decidedly Gallic sniff.
The case was packed with clothes, enough for a three-day weekend or short holiday, depending on how often a person did laundry. Casey dug through the contents while Paul and Etienne looked on.
“Slacks, nice ones. Several dress shirts, also out of my price range.”
“Do you wear anything aside from your uniform?” Etienne teased. “We assumed your closet is forest green.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” Casey snarked. Then—“Ah-ha!”
There was a lump that didn’t belong along the back of the case. Dumping everything onto the ground, Casey unzipped the lining. Tucked inside was a leather wallet. Casey slipped it out of its hiding place and popped it open.
“Peter Vale,” Casey read aloud from the driver’s license. “Well, crap.”
“Who is Peter Vale?” Paul asked. “Do we know him?”
“You heard about what went down last fall when you were out of town?” They claimed to have been in Marseille at the time. Casey chose to believe them.
“Oui.”
“This is the driver’s license of the man who was killed and left at the marina. Who also happened to be John Stevens’s son and Gabriel’s ex. I bet a plate search will tell us this is Vale’s car.” Casey blew out a sigh.
“Ah, so mystery upon mystery.”
“Something like that. I need to put in a call to the Sheriff’s Office.”
“Perhaps lunch, after all, and then call on your way back into town?” Etienne suggested. “I do not think this vehicle is going anywhere soon.”
Casey raised an eyebrow.
Etienne shrugged. “We like to stay off the radar,” he admitted.
“Fine,” Casey muttered, channeling Gabriel Karne.