When You See Me (Detective D.D. Warren #11)(99)

“And I’m not wrong either,” Keith stated triumphantly. “Look at this.” His fingers closed around the edge of one of the stones. He tugged. It moved. And at the far end of the room, just beyond the huge oak table, the crimson-covered wall slowly rumbled to life, a panel emerging, then sliding right.

Bonita jumped back, hobbling quickly to D.D.’s side.

D.D. couldn’t blame the girl. A draft of cold air blew into the room, striking her across the face. It carried the scent of dirt and pine, but also something fainter, more troubling.

The smell of death.

The secret doorway rumbled all the way open, and they stared into the abyss.





CHAPTER 38





KIMBERLY





KIMBERLY FELT UNEASY. AFTER WALT’S pronouncement that he could prove the trees really did scream at night, Walt had walked across his sprawling property and disappeared into an outbuilding.

“Does he always carry the shotgun?” Kimberly asked Flora the second he was gone.

“Yes.”

“I have a backup twenty-two. You have what, your bright shiny knife?”

“It’s a good knife.”

“One butterfly blade plus one small caliber handgun hardly equals adequate protection against buckspray.”

“Then let’s not get shot.”

“Do you believe him?” Kimberly asked seriously. “That he really did try to save you? That he’s not as evil as Jacob Ness and now he’s magically going to compensate for an entire life of reprobation by leading us to the bad guys?”

“I don’t know. It sounds funny to say this, but . . . Jacob had some good in him. He liked to play games. He brought me DVDs of my favorite TV shows. He could be nice. On occasion. Maybe his father has some good in him, too.”

Kimberly was not convinced, but then she heard the sound of a four-stroke engine firing to life. A moment later, Walt reappeared, driving a mud-splattered red ATV with monster tires. He parked the beast in front of the porch, then headed back, ostensibly for another. Their modes of transportation, Kimberly deduced. Flora and Keith had said the locals preferred the network of forest trails to county roads. Better access—and better cover.

As in, Walt could lead them just about anywhere, and who would know?

Kimberly dug her phone out of her pocket to text D.D. No bars, dammit. Funny, because she could’ve sworn she’d had coverage earlier.

Walt roared around the corner on a second ATV, this one even filthier than the first. He gazed at them expectantly. Kimberly took that as a hint to follow Flora to the first four-wheeler. Flora was already climbing on, wrapping her fingers around the handlebars.

“You know what you’re doing?”

“Easy peasy. Only hit four or five trees yesterday. Hang on tight.”

With a lurch, they were off. A short pause as Walt dealt with the gate guarding his property, unlocking, opening, closing up, relocking. Waiting, Kimberly thought she saw a flash of light in the woods. A glint of metal? But then it was gone and Walt was pulling away in a spray of gravel.

Kimberly had a prickly feeling at the back of her neck. As if the trees did have eyes, and were anxious to keep their secrets.

Walt veered off the road onto a narrow, rutted trail Kimberly wouldn’t have known existed. Flora had no problem following him; maybe this was what they’d done yesterday.

Right, left, right, left. Sharp turn, sharper turn. Then the whine of the engines as they chugged up, up, up and Kimberly had to clutch Flora for balance.

Abruptly they tore into a grassy clearing. Walt killed his engine. Flora did the same.

The old man climbed off his ATV, picked up his ubiquitous shotgun.

“Now, we walk.”

Flora and Kimberly once more fell in line. And once more, Kimberly could feel unease snaking down her spine.



* * *



—

CROSSING THE MEADOW WAS HOT work. None of them had water, but Walt didn’t seem to notice. He led them to the far line of bordering woods, slipping back between the trees with the ease of a mountain man who’d been doing this all his life.

Kimberly appreciated the shade. She used it to check her phone again. Still no signal. She noticed Flora doing the same. They exchanged glances, but didn’t say a word.

Whatever happened next, they were on their own. Two of them, one of him. In a fair fight, Kimberly would put her money on her and Flora. But Walt didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who fought fair. She was already noting how he held his shotgun, one finger always near the trigger. First order of business would be getting that weapon away from him. Because as long as he could whirl at any second, pump, shoot, pump, shoot . . .

She didn’t have a good feeling about their afternoon anymore.



* * *



—

MORE TWISTS AND TURNS. BY Kimberly’s estimation, Walt could disappear at any moment, and she and Flora would be just as dead as if he’d used his weapon. They looped around and around, the trees growing tighter and thicker around them.

Walt slowed.

Flora nearly bumped into him before realizing the death march had ended. Kimberly came up beside Flora. Straight ahead of them appeared to be a pile of boulders. Except, as Kimberly let her eyes adjust, she could make out various rusted-out objects nearly lost in the overgrown meadow grass, weedy shrubs.