J. Black: Laura Cardinal - 01 - Darkness on the Edge of Town

The two officers were Tagg and Wingate. The older cop, Tagg, smelled of cigarette smoke. Wingate seemed on edge, adrenaline running through him like a muscular river. Laura guessed this was the first time he’d seen anything like this.

Janes said, “I want you to give her and her partner everything you’ve got.”

Tagg was looking at her as if trying to place her. “I’ve heard your name before. Aren’t you—?”

Laura didn’t reply directly to his question. Instead, she motioned toward a blue truck parked behind them on the forest road, just outside the campground gate. “Is that the victims’ vehicle?”

“That’s right,” said Janes. “Thought we’d leave it for you to process.”

“I’ll need a warrant.” Even though the truck belonged to the crime scene, Laura wanted to be on the safe side, go ahead and get the warrant. Depending on where they were, even crime scenes required warrants, which Laura thought was just plain nutty. “Is there a justice of the peace or judge you like to go to?”

Janes motioned to his patrol car. “I have his number on the computer. We can do it telephonically.”

“Do we have photographs?”

“The medical examiner’s office took some, but they’re in Flagstaff.”

“I took some Polaroids,” Wingate volunteered. He trotted up the red cinder road to one of two Williams PD police cars and returned a moment later.

Four Polaroids. “That’s all the film I had.”

Laura held each one of them in the shade of her body, squinting against the brightness.

Hard to tell what was what; the colors were faded and the shapes indistinct. Yellow hair in a tangle. Pale flesh clotted with blood. The boy behind the girl; half-in, half-out of the sleeping bag. Spoon fashion, his right arm over her body. The sleeping bag and walls of the tent soaked with blood.

The top of the boy’s head gone.

All four Polaroids had been taken through the holes in the tent, from different angles.

“Is that one sleeping bag, or two?” Laura asked

“Well, technically, there’re two,” Tagg said. “They zipped ‘em together. You can do that with Cabela’s.”

Tagg added, “Double-ought buckshot. Shot right through the tent flap and two other sides.”

“He didn’t see them then?”

“He could’ve seen them through the holes in the tent, but he didn’t bother to open up the door flap. We had to open it to get the bodies—” Tagg glanced at Wingate. “—the victims out.”

“Josh’s the one who found them,” Sergeant Janes explained. “He knew Dan.”

Josh Wingate was staring at the tent. The high-voltage energy field surrounding him had not abated; in fact, it seemed to be getting stronger. “We were best friends in high school,” he said.

Laura looked at him with new interest. No wonder he seemed so off balance. His eyes were like shards of cut green glass, pulverized with hurt, but she noticed his posture was straight and he held his chin high. Almost defiant.

She remembered a shabby kitchen in Florida, how it felt to see someone you knew die right in front of you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s bad,” Josh Wingate replied, “but I’m okay.”

Laura had her doubts about that.“You found them?”

“My mom lives up that road.” He pointed to Country Club Road behind them. “I was on my way over when I saw his truck.”

“How’d you know it was his?”

“We used to camp out here a lot when we were kids. Plus, the bumper sticker.”

Laura glanced at the truck, a late-model GMC Sierra, the same medium-blue sheen as Cataract Lake. A common enough color in trucks. The bumper sticker said COWBOY UP. There was an NAU sticker on the windshield. Dan Yates and Kellee Taylor both had attended Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff.

“They weren’t supposed to be here,” Sergeant Janes said. “The campground’s been closed since Labor Day for repairs.”

It was the third week of September now. Laura looked out at the quiet lake, the pines. The grass going tawny, the palette of wildflowers fading to tarnished glory. After Labor Day, the north country seemed to give up on tourists until ski season. “We’re kind of far from town, aren’t we?” she said. “I would expect this to be the sheriff’s jurisdiction.”

“The city annexed this area last year. There’s plans to build at least one hotel and restaurant around here, what with the lake and all.”

Laura continued to stare at the lake. Wondering again, where was Richie Lockhart? Sergeant Janes hadn’t heard from him, and neither had she.

Well, she didn’t have the luxury to wait for him. Whatever she did now, she had to do right. Her crime scene—she always thought of a crime scene as hers—had been compromised by the removal of the bodies. She had to go with what she had.

Officer Wingate had been the first on the scene. He was friends with at least one of the victims, which might influence his memory in ways she couldn’t fathom, but he was still her best bet. He would have to be her eyes and ears.

_________________

Buy it Now!

Dark Side of the Moon

Visit www.jcarsonblack.com

Breakaway Media