Iris Johansen - Quicksand

For you, Eve …

CLAYBORNE FOREST WAS STILLteeming with searchers when Joe arrived at the command post the sheriff's department had set up near the road. And the cavalry had arrived, he noticed.

The scowling red-haired man who was talking to that young deputy Pete Shaw was dressed in a dark suit and Joe would bet he was FBI.

The deputy turned to Joe in relief as he approached. "This is Agent Hal Cassidy, Detective Quinn. I've been filling him in, but I've got to call Charlie and give him my report. You talk to him." He hurried away toward his vehicle.

Cassidy shook his head. "My God, if they have nothing but kids like him conducting this investigation, it's no wonder Kistle is using them for target practice." Cassidy turned and shook his hand. "Venable told me about you, Quinn. What the hell is happening here?"

"I'm sure the deputy gave you the bare bones. What else do you want to know?"

"What the FBI is doing here," he said curtly. "We have no proof that we're even needed. It's a cop killing, but they have so many searchers they're tripping over each other. They should be able to handle it. And the deputy mentioned another possible kidnapping and murder, but how can we investigate it when there may not even be a crime? All the deputy could say was that a little boy, Bobby Joe Windlaw, was missing and everyone had thought he was drowned." He stared Joe in the eye. "Until you contacted Jedroth and he began to wonder."

"I didn't say anything about any local killings. I don't know anything about Bobby Joe Windlaw." But he remembered Jedroth had said something about the little boy during that last phone call. "I just told the sheriff I had suspicions and asked him for surveillance. I'd say those suspicions were warranted, since Jedroth ended up dead."

"We haven't been able to track down any records on Kistle yet." Cassidy's gaze shifted toward the trees. "And this kind of case could stretch on indefinitely. We might be beating those bushes for the next year. I've seen it happen. The locals should take care of it."

"Do you expect me to argue? I didn't call you into the case. Go back to St. Louis."

"Easy to say," he said sourly. "I've got work there, damn important work to do. I'll be out of here in a heartbeat if I can persuade the director to stop playing patty-cake with Venable."

"You've obviously made up your mind. Just give him your report."

Cassidy's gaze narrowed on Joe's face. "You don't want us here. Why?"

"I don't care whether you're here or not. It won't affect what I do." He walked away from Cassidy toward the bog where the two deputies had been shot. The bodies were gone, but chalk markings indicated where they had been found. The area was now cordoned off. Not that it would do any good after all the trampling that had gone on last night.

He moved closer to the bog and looked up into the trees. The men had been shot after they had entered the quicksand, and judging by the wounds, the bullets had come from the front and angled downward. That meant Kistle had probably been waiting for them in one of those trees. Which one…?

"The big oak on the other side of the bog."

He stiffened but didn't turn around. "Hello, Montalvo."

"What a pleasure to see you looking so strong and well again, Quinn. I was most unhappy when you were ill and a mere shadow of yourself."

Joe turned to face him. Montalvo was dressed in the same type boots, khaki pants, and shirt that had been almost his uniform in Colombia, and he looked very much at home in these woods. "Bullshit. I was in your way and you would have loved it if I'd croaked."

Montalvo chuckled. "Not true. That would have guaranteed that you'd remain a part of my life. Eve would never have forgiven me."

Joe felt a surge of rage tear through him. He had hated those days in Montalvo's compound when he'd been hurt and helpless, and in contrast Montalvo had been everything that was vibrant and powerful. The memory was still a throbbing wound. Keep calm. Calm, hell, he wanted to break the bastard's neck. "You're right." He turned back to the bog. "Eve is completely loyal to the people she loves."

There was a silence behind him. "A wonderful quality. A wonderful woman."

"What are you doing here, Montalvo?"

"Keeping a promise." He moved forward to stand beside Joe. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes."

"I can see how you'd have problems, considering the stakes. But in my way I'm an honorable man. One has to have some code to live by. I always keep my promises and I always repay my debts."

"And you don't have trouble collecting debts owed you," he said through his teeth.

He smiled. "That goes without saying."

"Do I have to ask why you're here?"

"The same reason you are. I want to bring in Kistle." He added softly, "I want to drag the dragon in front of the lady and cut off his head. And then I hope she'll think it worth giving me a prize. Isn't that what you want, Quinn?"

"That's simplistic."

"It's honest. Do I want to ease her pain? Yes. Do I want to give her the solace she gave me when she did the reconstruction on my wife's skull? With all my heart. Do I want to take her to bed and never let her go back to you? Absolutely." He looked out over the bog. "And this may be the way to do all three. So I'd be a fool to miss the opportunity that's offered."

"Why did you ask Venable to bring in the FBI if you wanted to go after Kistle yourself?"

Montalvo turned to him and smiled. "Can't you guess? If I don't catch Kistle, I don't want you to be the one to do it. I'd much rather the FBI pick him up than you be the hero. You're an ex-SEAL and I'm sure you can be very impressive when you're on the hunt. I'd really hate to see you slaying the dragon for Eve."

"You may be disappointed. Cassidy doesn't want to be here and he's looking for excuses to go back to St. Louis."

Montalvo nodded. "I gathered that from talking to him earlier. I'll have to find a way to change his mind."

"Then I assume that we'll get no cooperation from you tracking down Kistle."

"Yes, you will. That would be stupid of me. I'll help you all I can." He pointed to the oak tree across the bog. "For instance, that's the tree that Kistle used. It's the only one that would have given him the right angle."

"He was being chased and he had to take time to spread those branches over the quicksand. He would have had to run an extra quarter of a mile to go around the bog to get to that tree."

"He didn't run." Montalvo pointed to the branches of the three trees that overhung the bog. "He used the branches. He went hand over hand over the bog. It would have taken him practically no time to swing over the bog and settle himself in that oak tree."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm not. But I saw two fresh scuff marks in the bark of that maple on this side of the bog. That has to be the one he used to climb and access the others. It makes sense."

Yes, it made sense, Joe thought. It shouldn't have surprised him that Montalvo would be able to work out the scenario. He had been a colonel in the rebel army before he had become an arms dealer and he had lived in the jungle for years.

"He would have to be extraordinarily strong and agile."

"Not so extraordinary. I could do it." Montalvo's gaze shifted back to him. "You could do it."

"We've had training and experience."

"So has Kistle." Montalvo smiled. "He spent six months surviving in the jungles of Nicaragua."

Joe stiffened. "How the hell do you know that?"

"Do you think I've been twiddling my thumbs since I left Colombia? I had to stay with Miguel during his surgery, but I've had investigators working nonstop on digging for information. I don't have your police contacts, but money is very persuasive."