Chapter 12
TWELVE
CASEY
The photo of Calvin Perkins continued to taunt Casey.
When he arrived at the park offices that morning, he saw the damn thing in the top drawer of his desk and promptly shut it again.
But he immediately felt guilty, so he opened the drawer, retrieved the photo, and propped it up against his monitor.
Greta shot him a what-the-hell-are-you-doing look from across the room before announcing, “I’m heading down to the camp store.
We’ve got that delivery arriving today, and Patrick’s a bit nervous receiving it on his own.
After that’s done, I’ll stop at Maintenance and chat with the new guy there.
Then it’s a walk around the campground and a check to see how this season’s camp hosts are settling in. ”
“Take Bowie with you,” Casey said, frowning at Calvin Perkins’s face.
Bowie hopped up at the sound of his name, his tail already wagging.
“Oh, does my best boy need to get out with Auntie Greta? Yes, he does.”
She rose to her feet and stepped around from behind her desk to scritch Bowie on the head. Casey suspected she had treats hidden in her pockets.
“Gross, Greta. Bowie is an adult dog.”
“And you are a grump.” Greta lifted Bowie’s leash from its hook and snapped it onto his collar. “See you later. Don’t forget to sign off on the June and July temp schedules.”
Casey scowled up at his coworker, who grinned and gave him a very Gabe-like finger wave before departing.
Bowie didn’t even look back at him. It wasn’t until Greta was in her truck and peeling out of the lot that Casey remembered he’d meant to ask if she’d be willing to check in with Mercy in a couple of days about Mr. Warner.
“Dammit.”
His desk phone chose that moment to burble. It was an ancient beast that had fallen off the desk several times over the years, so every ring sounded like it could be its last. Casey glared at it before reaching across and picking up the handset.
“Ranger Lundin.”
“Heya, Casey! Lawrence from Twana County Waste Management over in Westfort. I just need to confirm we’re moving from biweekly pickup to weekly and then twice a week starting June 15.”
“Yep.”
Why they had to confirm this every year was beyond Casey’s pay grade. The garbage schedule never changed. It was almost as regular as sunrise and sunset.
“Are you doing anything fun today?” Lawrence asked, as if extending this unneeded phone call was his life’s work.
Truthfully, Casey’s idea of a fun day was hanging out in the woods by himself or with Bowie along.
Not talking on the phone. But last night his dreams had been populated by Peter Vale, his SUV, Calvin Perkins, the unmapped road—all mixed in with creeping ivy and burned-out cabins with faceless dead bodies in them.
Greta would tell him that his subconscious was onto something and the only way to solve it was to face it.
“Might have to head up The Valley if I can get away.”
He was going to get away whether he really could or not. This was him facing his subconscious.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Lawrence laughed heartily again. “We’ll be rumbling your direction Monday morning.”
Two people telling him to be careful had to be some kind of record, even if both times were meant in jest. And one of them was his Charming Fucker, whose propensity for doing things he shouldn’t was legendary.
“Talk later, Lawrence.” Casey set the phone back down.
Lawrence was the most cheerful garbageman Casey had ever met.
In fact, Lawrence was one of the most cheerful people Casey had ever met in his life, and that unhinged delight annoyed the crap out of him.
There was no way the guy could be this cheerful and good-natured for real, and Greta agreed with him.
Or she was humoring him, which would not have been the first time.
His gaze drifted back down to the photo of the smiling Calvin Perkins. He checked his watch; it was only nine thirty. Then he guiltily eyed the glowing staffing calendar icon that waited for him to click on it.
“Waiting to immediately crash, more like it.”
Not today, Satan, said a little voice that sounded an awful lot like Gabriel’s.
Telling himself he wouldn’t be gone that long, Casey powered down his desktop and grabbed the keys to his Jeep. Best to take a personal vehicle since the errand he was heading on wasn’t official park business. It wasn’t his business at all.
Before the crush hit, Greta and Casey had learned to go with an honor system, making sure both the paperwork and the forest checks got done as they needed to.
From Memorial Day through Labor Day, one of them made sure to be in the office Wednesday through Sunday, and the other Thursday through Monday.
Memorial Day wasn’t for another thirteen days, and Greta had a rotating list of somewhat seasoned volunteers who could be called in to assist as needed on Monday and Tuesday afternoons, the slowest days of the week.
It wasn’t a perfect solution to their understaffing issue, but it was what they’d managed to cobble together, and it meant that today was one of Casey’s last chances to sneak off during work hours before they were too busy to breathe.
Before shutting and locking the door, Casey flipped over the Be Back Soon sign so it was facing outward and pushed away the guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He’d be back before anyone knew he’d left.
Standing in front of Kelly Perkins’s front door, Casey didn’t allow himself time to second-guess his excuse for visiting.
He quickly raised his hand and rapped against the weathered wood.
The car parked in front of the house was hers, so he assumed she was home.
After a bit, the sound of someone moving around inside reached his ears.
When she opened the door, Kelly blinked against the bright sunshine and looked around as if she’d expected someone other than Casey. Anyone other than Ranger Casey Lundin. Maybe seeing him reminded her of her sons, or maybe she’d forgotten about giving him the photograph.
“Hi, Ms. Perkins. Do you have time for me to ask you a few questions about Calvin and Dwayne?” He’d never believed in waffling around.
She stiffened, her lips flattening into a thin line. Casey thought she was going to turn him away. And he would’ve been wrong because Kelly Perkins swung the door open and gestured for him to come inside.
“I don’t have questions about what they”—Casey paused before settling for—“were into.” It wasn’t like he didn’t know about their illegal activities, having cited them multiple times over the years.
“I’d like to learn a little more about them.
What were their hobbies? Did they have girlfriends? That kind of thing.”
“Why?” Her eyes had a suspicious glint to them.
“Why do I want to know?” Calvin’s mother nodded. “I feel like investigators need to learn about people in order to figure out what happened to them. What was Calvin like? What did he like to do? I’m hoping you can tell me something the TCSO and I didn’t already know. And Dwayne too,” he added.
“Well, hurry up and come inside, no need to let bugs in too.” She continued with, “No one ever wants to know about my boys personally. The reporters I’ve talked to only want to dig up more dirt. Make them look like bad men.”
Clearly, Kelly Perkins’s rose-colored glasses were still firmly affixed; her sons could do no wrong. However, Casey wasn’t there with the intention of ripping them apart.
Casey had determined he needed to understand the real Calvin Perkins if there was any chance of tracking down his killer.
And that thought had led to the realization that, other than handing out citations for illegal harvesting, trespass, et cetera, he didn’t know much about either brother.
The brief time he and Dwayne were in the second grade together was a long time ago.
“You must feel betrayed, Ms. Perkins, that there’s been no movement on Calvin’s case. And I do apologize for not checking in sooner,” he said as he stepped inside to a chaotic and almost suffocating living room.
He figured he wasn’t far from the truth. It had to be devastating for her to know there’d been no arrest or even a suspect in her oldest son’s death.
“So, what do you think? Can I ask you a few questions and get to know Calvin and Dwayne a little better?”
Kelly Perkins looked closely at him, maybe trying to tell if he was being honest. “Sure, I’ll answer some questions about my boys.”
Casey still suspected that the dead Deter Nolan had not been the one to kill the younger Perkins brother and leave him at Gordon MacDonald’s shed up The Valley. And two brothers ending up dead was not a coincidence.
Rizzi? Maybe. He’d have to be careful here though; Rizzi had been Kelly’s brother. He imagined that, even after what had been revealed about him, she still felt a loyalty. He would need to frame his questions with care.
“Would you like something to drink?” Kelly asked. “I have some herbal tea.”
“Sure, tea sounds nice. Thank you, Ms. Perkins.”
“Come into the kitchen, we can talk in there. And for the love of God, call me Kelly. Ms. Perkins makes me think of the boy’s gran, and she was a piece of work.
” In the equally crowded but better lit kitchen, Kelly busied herself filling an electric kettle with fresh water and pulling a box of tea out from a cabinet over the sink.
It looked to Casey to be one of the brands Mercy and Barry sold at Norskland’s.
“As you can see, it’s kind of a mess around here.
Dwayne used to help me stay organized, but with him gone, it’s out of control.
Now go ahead, ask me your questions. What do you want to know? ”
There was nowhere to sit, which was probably for the best. Instead, Casey leaned one hip against the counter and crossed his arms.
“From my interactions with Calvin, I know he was an outdoors guy. Did he always camp and, er, hike?”