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“That doesn’t matter, really. You see, let’s say she took her own life after you left. She jumped off a cliff, and it was her own decision.”
Renaldo nodded vigorously. “Yes, that’s exactly what must’ve happened. She was depressed lately. Ask anyone.”
Son of a bitch, Kay thought, the kid’s words pissing her off to no end. The speed with which he’d say anything about Jenna, only to protect that piece of scum, Richard. “It still doesn’t matter, because it was closely tied to the commission of a crime, her rape. The Rohypnol too, which is poisoning. So, essentially, the person who drugged her is legally her killer. Was that you?”
He shook his head so forcefully his hair bounced around his head. “No, that wasn’t me, I told you.” His dilated pupils were staring right into Kay’s eyes. “I didn’t know she’d been drugged until you told me.”
“Then who should be cuffed here instead of you? If you didn’t do it, you could walk out of here a free man.”
A look of hope washed over Mrs. Cristobal’s face. “Please, tell her.”
He lowered his gaze for a moment, then looked up. The expression on his face had morphed into something Kay hadn’t seen before. “I want a lawyer,” he said calmly, resting his cuffed hands one on top of the other.
Kay stood, struggling to contain her frustration. The weakling had an iron core buried deeply inside the deceptive appearances. “Where is Kendra?” she asked, looking away from them, standing three feet away from the door, about to leave.
“I asked for a lawyer,” he replied coolly. “You’re not supposed to ask me any more questions.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.” Kay turned toward his mother. “Where would Richard have taken Kendra? You must know… something, anything that could lead us to her. If she dies before we get to her, it’s on your son’s head.”
The woman squeezed her eyes shut, sniffling, her breaths shattered and raspy. “I heard them talking about the old Somerset hunting cabin, the one that’s been locked in estate battles for years after John Somerset died.”
Renaldo’s fists found the table surface. “Shut up, Mom. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
But Kay had already left. In the observation room, Elliot was waiting with a big grin on his face.
“We caught a break, partner. Deputy Farrell found Dwayne.”
“Where the heck was he? Why did he run?”
“He didn’t. He got a call that his four-year-old daughter had collapsed in daycare. He was at the hospital with her. She’s going to be fine.”
“Did he look at the photo arrays?”
Elliot’s smile widened. “He picked Richard Gaskell without a moment’s hesitation. Warrants are forthcoming.”
FORTY-SIX
FOUND
Wildfire Ridge wore its stunning auburns and orange hues as the sun was rushing to meet the Pacific. First in a convoy of vehicles rushing toward the mountain with flashers off, Elliot’s SUV headed straight for the chairlift terminal, while other units took various positions around the mountain.
“If Richard Gaskell is up there,” Kay had instructed all available deputies, “I don’t want him sneaking off that mountain and disappearing. He’s got money, he’s intelligent, resourceful, and he will attempt to flee. In ten hours, he could start living large in the Dominican Republic if we don’t pay attention. He’s to be considered extremely dangerous; he’s killed before and will not hesitate to do so again if cornered.” She looked at them, one by one, inviting questions. “All right. Deputy Farrell, take the Winter Lodge. Deputy Pickett, you drive around the mountain and take the foot of the trail to Blackwater River Falls. Deputy Leach, take the trail to Wildfire, where we found Jenna’s body. If I were running off that mountain, that’s the path I’d take.” She’d turned to leave, but then remembered something. “No flashers, no sirens. If he sees us coming, he might kill Kendra.”
Jimmy Bugarin was waiting for them at the terminal, smoking a stogie. The bluish, acrid smoke stung her nostrils as she approached in a rushed step.
“I’ve kept the lights off just like you said. You sure you want to ride this up in the dark? It’s creepy.”
“Yeah, we’re sure, and once we’re up there, shut it down,” Elliot replied, shaking the man’s hand. “Let’s get going.”
Bugarin went inside the terminal. Through the open door, Kay saw him turn a lever clockwise with a grunt. Rumbling and creaking as if it was about to fall apart, the chairlift was set in motion.
“Come on over here,” Bugarin said, pointing at a section under the chairlift’s bull wheel. Kay looked at the whirring guiding wheel above her head with suspicion. “Stand right there, by that sign, and let the chair come to you. When you feel it hit your legs, let yourself fall back onto it.”
Elliot took her hand and she held on tightly, welcoming the strength steadying her as she took a seat on the moving chairlift. The moment her feet lost contact with the ground she felt dizzy for an instant and squeezed his hand tighter. Then she pulled away, instantly regretting it, but there was no turning back. He wasn’t hers to hold hands with; he’d never been, and never would be. He belonged to someone else. Remembering that felt like a punch in the gut. He should’ve told her, long ago, before he’d started taking her out for dinner, mowing her lawn, or showing up on her doorstep in the morning to pick her up for work. That Miranda sure didn’t know anything about any of that, or he would’ve been dead by now.
“Don’t forget to lower the safety bar,” Bugarin shouted behind them.
Elliot reached above their heads and lowered the safety bar. She grabbed it with both hands, holding on to it for dear life as the chairlift whirred into the deepening darkness. It felt surreal, dizzying, as if flying, wind whooshing though her hair. In the distance, the serrated cliffs of Wildfire still clung to the deep purples of the late dusk.
