CHAPTER SIXTEEN
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Townes stood beneath a very large oak tree draped in Spanish moss. He was grateful that he’d left his suit jacket and tie in the car. Though the air was relatively cool, what he was about to do wasn’t conducive to the constraint of expensive fabrics.
“Did you get anything important from the sheriff?”
“No.” Townes began to slowly roll up his sleeves as he studied the thick branches that led to his destination. “But we’ll eventually need to notify him that forensics will be returning to the crime scene. I just want to buy us some more time before a ton of traffic disturbs the locals.”
“I take it we’re holding off for an hour or so then?” Coen waited until Townes was ready to proceed before handing over a pair of latex gloves. He didn’t want to contaminate the crime scene this far into the game. “Moss could very well be alive and somewhere in this area.”
“Yes, it wouldn’t surprise me.”
Townes had met with the local police, asking for a briefing on crimes in the surrounding areas, such as break-ins, missing persons, and small thefts. Should Moss have attempted to falsify his death, he would have wanted to keep his profile rather low. He would have stayed somewhere nearby within the surrounding area before attempting to find a way out after tripping the switch and lying low.
The wooden structure nestled in the heart of the tree all but proved that scenario, though it still wasn’t enough evidence by the standard of the law.
“I’m impressed, Flynn.” Townes decided the easiest path to take up to the camouflaged timber-built shelter was to the left of the tree. “This is easily a hundred and fifty feet out from the cabin with an elevated but clear line of sight.”
“Something wasn’t sitting right in the satellite imagery.” Coen and Townes both looked back to where Sawyer was carefully surveying the hard ground. It would be almost impossible for anyone with tracking skills to get a good bead on Moss with this terrain. “I realized that the avenue of escape was slightly hidden from view by that lone branch off the smaller oak. Granted, it could easily have been nothing, but we were at a dead end.”
“Well, it panned out.”
Townes reached out and grabbed a hold of the closest branch, hoisting himself up until he was able to use another limb for leverage. Should this be how Moss escaped without anyone the wiser, it still didn’t explain the body. How had Moss gotten his DNA to match?
“Call one of the better local outfitters and have them bring their bloodhounds out. The dogs should be able to pick up a scent if we can find something inside this structure. They can track scents in the air as well as on the ground. They are persistent as hell.”
Townes finally reached the entrance to the rather small enclosure, which was large enough to accommodate a single man in comfort. A quick glance showed nothing of interest besides a few rotting boards here and there. He didn’t take anything for granted. He positioned himself so that he could survey the inside in its entirety.
“Anything?” Sawyer called up, having made his way across the hundred and fifty yards from the cabin.
“No.”
Townes took a moment, blocking out the sights and sounds of the surrounding forest. The clearing wasn’t too large. Nature’s reverberations were relatively constant. He needed to visualize what may have happened, though it sickened his stomach to think that Moss had been mere yards away watching as firemen scrambled to put out the fire and local law enforcement debated whether or not he was still inside.
It was then that he spotted the lone white bottle cap tilted sideways against one of the boards that appeared to be cracked where an old nail had been driven through the wood. There was no mistaking that it had been left here recently due to the brightness of the cap and lack of dust.
“Dale Kitner can be here in under an hour.” Coen was referring to the individual who owned one of the best-known tracking dogs in the county. “I’m not so sure we’ll be able to withhold this from the sheriff’s department for much longer, though. Dale was having lunch with one of his deputies when I called.”
“Reach out to the sheriff, then. Let him know to limit traffic in and out of the surrounding area so that we don’t tip off Moss should he still be laying up somewhere in the area. I want roadblocks on every road, trail, and two-track leading into these woods. I also want them at least twenty miles outside of the immediate area.” Townes carefully lifted the bottle cap, ensuring the latex glove he was wearing hadn’t torn on the branches he’d used as leverage. He then turned the glove inside out to contain the evidence. “Also, get Dale back on the line. Tell him we may need to rip a few boards off here to give the hounds a scent to track. Ask him what the best scenario is for this type of search. Give him anything he needs.”
Townes gave the inside of the lumbered shelter another quick onceover. He then carefully descended and handed off the latex glove with the cap inside to Sawyer. He let the two of them deal with phone calls to forensics, the feds, the sheriff, and anyone else who needed brought into this part of the investigation.
He surveyed the area as he walked back to his vehicle, wondering how long Moss had stayed up in that ragged structure. Had he waited for the exact moment when the authorities had cleared out? Or had he waited even longer, ensuring that no one would suspect he’d had a way off the property without being noticed?
Townes opened the driver’s side door and reached inside for the folder containing the current satellite images Brody had printed off just this morning. He walked around the car and used the trunk as a temporary desk. He spread the numerous images across the heated metal, positioning the photographs as if he were looking down at the area.
The team had personally visited each and every cabin within a two-mile radius, but that search had taken place the night of the fire. Moss would have been snug up in that treehouse of his, no one the wiser with him that far up in the foliage.
Townes slid the red marker he’d attached to the manila folder off the front cover. He went through each cabin, circling the ones that were currently sitting empty. They would all need to be checked, but the ones he’d marked with an X could be done by the sheriff. It would give the man something to do, thus keeping him out of SSI’s way while he shot the shit with his hunting buddies and local constituents.
“There’s a chance Moss could be long gone,” Sawyer pointed out, most likely trying to curb expectations. He had a point. Plus, he was still holding the evidence that could prove Moss was in that wooden structure. Any good defense attorney could argue that the cap had been left behind before the fire. Townes would verify otherwise by tracking down the son of a bitch. “I’m not so sure we should put out an APB. An All-Points Bulletin would only give Moss the upper hand.”
“Which is why you’re going to head into town while Coen stays here to deal with forensics. I want you to hold the sheriff’s hand and make sure word doesn’t spread to anyone who doesn’t need to know, especially from that loudmouth deputy that was with Dale.”
Townes pulled his phone off its holder attached to his belt. Swiping the display alerted him to the time. Shailyn’s parents should have arrived at the estate by now. He’d purposefully shoved any thoughts of her aside. Her sweet declaration that she wanted to stay had hit him hard in the chest. He hadn’t expected to hear those words so soon, and he’d even gone the extra mile in giving her a warning to think over her answer.
He wasn’t playing this time around. Should she decide to stay, there was no turning back. He accepted his many faults, one of them being that he was selfish. She was his, as far as he was concerned.
“Calvert, Keane and Royce are pulling into town now.” Coen held his phone at an angle, clearly not wanting to yell into the receiver. “Do you want them to stay there or meet you at a rendezvous point?”
Time was of the essence.
“Change of plans.” Townes gathered up the papers and shoved them inside the folder, along with the red marker. “Coen, don’t leave this property until forensics is through with it. Help Dale with anything he needs. Have Keane and Royce take care of the sheriff and his troop of Barney Fife deputies. Sawyer, you’re with me.”
Townes opened the back door of his car and set the manila folder on the back seat. He was settled behind the steering wheel and waiting for Sawyer to hand off the evidence to Coen right when his phone rang. It was the number that belonged to the cell Brody had given Shailyn to use for emergencies.
“Are you okay?” Townes pressed the ignition button and waited for Sawyer to close the passenger side door before he slipped the gear into drive. He’d answered before his Bluetooth had kicked in, so he was able to take this call in private. “Did your parents arrive safely?”
“Yes, they’re here,” Shailyn answered softly, her heartfelt tone telling him that the reunion had been an emotional one. “They want to tell the family that I’m alive.”
“Absolutely not.” Townes wasn’t going to debate this and would have Brody handle the problem should the need arise. He was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. “Shailyn, we found something that might prove Moss isn’t dead. I’m going to need your parents to stay there for the time being. You’re going to need to convince them that your death needs to remain intact as public knowledge for the foreseeable future.”
He never should have allowed her parents to visit the estate, at least not yet. Not once in this investigation had he believed Moss was dead. He had allowed forensic evidence to dictate his actions, and now they all might very well pay the price for that lapse in judgement.
“I’ll take care of it.” The disappointment in Shailyn’s voice would have brought him to his knees had he not already been sitting. He gripped the steering wheel with his left hand to prevent himself from making her a promise he couldn’t keep. “Townes?”
“Yeah, freckles?”
He wouldn’t put distance between them now when what she needed was his strength.
“Please be careful.”
“I always am.”
Townes disconnected the line and then clipped his phone back into the small case attached to his belt. He drove down the lane and then made a right, following a narrow two-track road that had seen better days. It didn’t take long to reach the next unimproved gravel lane he believed would lead him straight to Moss.
“I texted Brody so that he was aware that Shailyn’s parents might present a problem. He’ll put the estate on lockdown.”
Townes didn’t doubt that was what Sawyer had been doing on his phone, but he couldn’t worry about that now. He slowly drove the car as close as he could to the isolated cabin via a mental estimate on how long the lane was per the image. The side of the road was overgrown with weeds and wild branches hanging down from the trees overhead. It was all but impossible to pull the vehicle off the gravel path, so he stopped the car in the middle of the lane and shifted the gear into park.
“We’re walking in from here.”
Townes turned off the engine and reached for his weapon. He had never fastened his seatbelt, so he was able to draw his firearm from his shoulder holster with ease. It would have been nice to have a couple long guns, but they weren’t outfitted for this type of hunt.
Sawyer remained silent as he opened the passenger side door with utmost care. They both automatically fell into a staggered line thirty feet from each other. Townes took lead while Sawyer was to his right and ten steps back.
With each stride, their senses heightened. Townes didn’t doubt that Sawyer was experiencing the same déjà vu. It happened to every individual who had ever served in the military. These kinds of skills were never forgotten, though this type of career kept them sharper than most. Hand and arm signals were to be used from here on out.
Wildlife was rampant in these parts. This was Florida, after all. Mother Nature appeared to have sent her critters a little warning about a standoff that could possibly be taking place. The only sound he could currently make out was the low drone of the mosquitoes. Those suckers were an equal opportunity hunter. He didn’t bother to swat them away. All his attention was on his surroundings and the remote cabin that was finally coming into view.
Townes motioned with his hand that he had the left side of the cabin covered. According to the initial reports, this was a hunter’s retreat and currently unoccupied. There had been no signs of anyone inside, and that hadn’t changed from the outside appearance. It wasn’t until he reached the side of the porch that he caught sight of a coffee cup set down on the wooden porch beside a matching rocking chair.
Sawyer gestured he would remain in position on the right-hand side of the cabin where he had a visual of both the side and front. Townes continued to cautiously make his way around back to an overgrown field, noting nothing amiss. He didn’t lower his weapon as he continued forward until he could motion for Sawyer to make their existence known.
“SSI,” Sawyer called out loud enough so that there was no mistaking who they were. “We’ve got you surrounded. Come out with your hands in the air.”
Adrenaline was pumping through Townes’ veins at a NASCAR rate of speed, but one would never know it by the steady manner in which he held his weapon. Should Moss or anyone else attempt to come out the back, Townes would be ready.
He sure as hell didn’t expect his cell phone to vibrate on his hip. He ignored the call, concentrating on the task at hand. Whoever it was would leave a message.
Sawyer took a step forward and yelled out instructions once more. No one heeded the warning, so he finally closed the distance until he disappeared from Townes’ line of sight. It was clear he was going to attempt entry.
Townes suppressed his surprise upon hearing the lightest ricochet of a dog barking off the trees in the distance. They were quite a way from the crime scene, but the forest must be laid out in such a way that the trees carried the sound.
Son of a bitch. Moss may have heard them coming.
He remained in place, regardless that his gut was telling him Moss was long gone. It would explain the coffee cup left on the front porch. He had somehow sensed or heard something that alerted him to the fact that there were people back at the crime scene. Hell, maybe it had simply been the echo of a car door slamming.
Either way, Moss would be close by to see if the unexpected guests were reexamining the site or if the wooden structure in the old oak tree had been discovered.
Sawyer finally made an appearance, shaking his head that there was no one to be found. Townes reluctantly lowered his firearm, swearing under his breath.
Damn it.
His phone vibrated once more. Snatching it out of its holder, he glanced at the display.
Unknown caller.
Sawyer must have sensed the tension that came over Townes. He immediately started to scan the dense wooded area, bringing his weapon up at the ready.
“You’re no fun, Calvert.”
Townes had brought his phone to his ear without making a sound. He was already aware of who was on the other end of the line, so there was no need to greet him like an old friend.
“I’m sorry to ruin your idea of entertainment, Moss.” Townes holstered his weapon, turning to face the one direction he would have taken had he been the fugitive. “Did you really think I would fall for something so obvious?”
“You must have thought the same of me.”
“Shailyn died as a result of your handiwork.” Townes wasn’t about to let the cat out of the bag now. “I don’t have to convince you of anything. I don’t have the ability to change the past.”
The long, drawn-out pause on the other end of the line let Townes know that Moss now wasn’t so sure in his original assumption.
“You’re lying.” There was a mocking tsk coming through the receiver loud and clear. It came too late, though. Townes definitely had a hook embedded and it was only a matter of time before he could yank the line. A piercing shot of satisfaction hit home. “I want her back, Calvert. It’s only a matter of time before I find her.”
“We can stand here and debate all day long, but the fact is I’m wasting manpower and resources trying to bring you in while you hunt for nothing but a ghost. Caroline is just as dead, Moss, just like Shailyn. Neither are coming back, and you certainly wouldn’t be wasting your time talking to me if you had proof otherwise.” Townes paused for effect. “Did you see the pictures of her corpse? Did you tug on your pathetic dick when you saw those pictures, you sadistic, perverted, cold-packing coward? Her loss is the reason I get up every morning now, but I’m guessing it’s also the reason you’re second-guessing yourself right now.”
Another seed planted. Pretty soon, a garden full of weeds would lead Moss directly to the place where Townes needed him to go to end this charade once and for all.
“I’ve said it before, Moss.” Townes met Sawyer’s gaze, who nodded his approval on how this phone conversation was playing out. He’d deliver his final message and then disconnect the line. There was something to be said for having the upper hand. “I’ll be seeing you real soon. I hope you’re ready to die.”