W. E. Lopez
HC-66, Box 11014
Pahrump, NV 89060
Approx. 115,276 words

DREAD
By
W. E. Lopez

Prologue
Rats scurried around the perimeter of the room; huge, gray rats.  Larry Winscott thought they resembled furry footballs with small pointed heads, short legs, and long tails.  Rats had never frightened him.  Hed seen plenty of them around the base camp in Viet Nam.  He and lots of the other guys had used them for target practice.  Take the bullet off a .223 cartridge and stick the brass case into a bar of soap.  Wiggle it a little then pull it out with the soap plug in the end of the cartridge.  In just a few minutes a guy could make several of the little varmint gitters the guys had called them.  Load them into a magazine, jam it into the well of the M-16 and just wait for Mister Rat.  At close range, the soap bullets were lethal.  They were particularly effective at night, using a starlight scope to spot the pesky critters.  Larry enjoyed killing rats.
Winscott took another deep slug of raw whiskey and followed it with a swallow of beer.  Damned if he wasnt feeling good!
He was fifty-six years old.  Viet Nam had been a long, long time ago.  But it hadnt been all bad.  He still had dozens of fond, even pleasant memories.  Hed been a radio-telephone operator in an infantry company of the 101st Airborne Division, the Screaming Eagles.  The PRC-25 had added fifteen pounds to his already heavy rucksack, but it was weight he didnt mind carrying.  An RTO was always just a step away from the platoon leader, and always one of the first to know what was really going on.  He got along real well with his platoon leader, call sign Grizzly 36, or just Grizzly.  Everybody had a nickname, something that could be used over the radio without compromising secure information to enemy listeners.  His own was Badger, after the viscous little carnivore that was state animal of his Wisconsin home.
Grizzly was what the men called a retread.  He was a tough little guy with a no-nonsense attitude.  Hed been a cracker-jack sergeant so somebody in this fucked up Army had made him an officer.  He shouldered his load, and stood his watch, just like the rest of the grunts.  He laughed and cried just as easily as his men.  
There had been the time they were leading the company through thick jungle.  Third platoon had been point, fourth was slack, then second, with first being drag.  The old man and his CP group were between the third and fourth.  A full-up infantry company was supposed to number one hundred and eighty officers and men.  Company B had just short of ninety.  Companies were never up to full strength, there were always a few guys off on R&R, a few in hospital and a few in the rear area.  Then, too, were the ghosts.  They were people from Division or Corps who were technically assigned to Company B, but were detached for duty with higher headquarters.  The regulations said you were not eligible to be awarded a Combat Infantrymans Badge unless you were assigned as an infantryman at brigade or lower level.  The ghosts were carried on Company Bs roster, but pulled all their duty back in some rear area with hot chow and soft bunks.
As it was, Company B had eighty-eight men in the jungle, and the company commander, Scorpion, had told Grizzly to take the point.  It was afternoon, daylight was going fast, and they had at least two more klicks to go before they set up for the night.  They humped.  Thats what infantrymen do.  Hump.  Up hill, down hill, around the hill, through the mud and across the rivers.  
The point squad signaled for a halt.  Grizzly moved up to confer with his squad leader and learn what the holdup was.  Sergeant Rasmussen whispered in his ear.  Theres a big snake in the middle of the trail.  No way to go around.  We need to fireem up.
Show me, Grizzly said.  The sergeant led him forward another few meters to where a fallen log, as thick as a mans waist, crossed a shallow ditch.  The ditch ran at right angles to the faint trail the men had been following.  The log laid the length of the trail.  It was the trail over the small ditch.
Underneath the log was a huge snake.  It was impossible to tell how long it was for it was tightly curled, resting in the drowsy afternoon.  Its forked tongue occasionally flicked in and out as it tasted the air.  Its head was twice the size of a mans fist.  A large mans fist.  Its body was at least five or six inches thick.  Grizzly looked left and right for a way to go around this obstacle.  He saw nothing but thick brush and wait-a-minute vines.  His troops could use their machetes and hack their way through in just a few minutes, but they were executing a movement-to-contact and silence was the order of the day.  He saw no way to go around the snake but before he allowed his point man to open fire he would have to first call for permission from the CO.
Winscott drank more of the cheap whiskey.  He remembered handing the radio handset to the lieutenant who keyed the mike.
Six, this is three-six, over, the lieutenant said softly.
The reply came back immediately for the company commander had been expecting it, This is six.  Whats the holdup?
Theres a large snake in the middle of the trail here.  Hes nesting under a log.  Theres thick brush to the left and right of the trail.  I dont see anyway to bypass the obstacle.  Over.
Well, what do you want me to do about it? was the reply.
Im requesting permission to open fire and destroy the snake.
No, no, keep things as quiet as possible.  Whats the snake doing?
Grizzly threw his hands up in the air and rolled his eyes in exasperation.  He keyed the mike again. Hes just laying there, under a large log.  Hes flicking his tongue in and out.
Okay, have someone keep him covered and see if you can keep moving.  But dont open fire unless the snake looks threatening.
Christ, Grizzly thought to himself, how am I supposed to interpret the body language of a snake?  He motioned to Sergeant Rasmussen to follow him and prepared to step onto the log and move on down the trail.  The sergeant grabbed his arm, stopping him, and asking what to do.
Cover the snake.  If he makes a suspicious move, fireem up.  Follow me when I get across.
He looked aghast at the lieutenant.  Clearly Rasmussen was no friend of snakes.  But, the lieutenant was the lieutenant.  He pointed his rifle at the snake, making sure the selector switch was in the full-auto position, as the platoon leader led his RTO across the log.  Then he motioned for the man behind him to cover the snake, silly as it seemed.  Then, he was across, then two more men.  He caught up to the lieutenant who had hunkered down to look at his map.
Theres a river ahead, not far, Grizzly said.  When you get there, send two men to the right, two to the left, and hold up.  Ill catch up to you.
Rasmussen moved off through the jungle, happy to be putting space between himself and that huge snake.
Five minutes later the lieutenant was looking across the river into the tree line twenty yards away.  It didnt look deep.  It wasnt running dangerously fast.  No problem.  He sent a squad across to secure the tree line while Rasmussens squad secured this side and gave them cover.  When they had made it across and motioned they were okay, the lieutenant waded into the water.  They were halfway across with the river at mid-thigh, when Badger handed him the handset.  Sir, the old man wants you.
This is three-six, he radioed.
Why didnt you tell me that snake was that fuckin big? came the shouted reply.
Larry Winscott had to laugh every time he remembered that story.  He could hear the old mans words plain as day even though the lieutenant was holding the handset almost three feet away.  It was true that he held an irrational fear of the slithering creatures, but he would never have let Grizzly know that.  Wherever the man led, Badger would follow.
Winscott took another pull at his bottle.  The liquor was raw and bitter at first, but the more he drank, the easier it went down.  There was a pounding in his ears; a pounding in his temples.  It brought to mind the sights and sounds of an old western movie in black and white.  Dozens of breech-clouted Indians with shuffling feet gathered around a roaring ceremonial fire with the soundtrack coming up on drums in the background.  Relentless chanting as the camera panned from one wrinkled and toothless face to the next.  Hey-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh-hey-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!  Redskins getting liquored up and making medicine before attacking the wagon train or wiping out the settlers post.  Boom-boom-boom-boompity-boom-boom-boom-boompity, went the drums and tom-toms as the Indians danced.
Winscott knew he was alone in his shack.  Where could the noise be coming from?  It filled him with a grave sense of apprehension. Boom-boom-boom-boompity-boom-boom-boom-boompity! A feeling of dread invaded his thoughts and soul.  Hey-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh-hey-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!
Christ!  Now there was a snake coiled over in the corner.  Not a four or five foot rattle snake so common in the hills nearby.  This one was huge, with a bullet shaped head.  It reminded him of the snake that ate John Voight in Anaconda, but that was stupid.  That hadnt even been a real snake, just computer animation.
Winscott ran the fingers of his right hand through his graying hair and then rubbed and blinked his eyes.  That huge snake was still there!  It was tightly coiled, its tongue flicking in and out while the beady little eyes locked on a rat six feet to the right. With lightening quickness the snake struck and swallowed up the rat and quickly struck again, swallowing a second rat.
Oh, God! Winscott screamed to himself.  Please let me be dreaming this and let me wake up.  He rolled off the couch where hed been watching an old Andy Griffith rerun on one of the satellite channels.  Lurching across the front porch of his trailer he swept the TV off the table and climbed up there himself.  There was a three-legged stool in front of the table.  Hed been sitting on it while he overhauled the carburetor of his chain saw this morning.  The chain saw was still sitting next to where the TV had been.
Boom-boom-boom-boompity-boom-boom-boom-boompity!  The drums were beating fiercely, almost painfully, within his head.
Larry grabbed the stool by its flat seat and swung it at the snake but struck only a glancing blow.  One of the stools legs cracked and splintered while the other two fell off and slid away on the floor.  Larry dropped the stool and it landed at his feet.  He grabbed the chain saw and flipped its ignition switch to run then depressed the choke and squeezed the trigger type throttle while pulling the starter rope with his left hand.
The freshly tuned motor caught and roared to life, only to sputter and nearly stop before Larry lifted the choke lever.  He pulled the trigger again and listened to the motors sharp roar.  He waved the saw at the snake and saw its eyes follow the wickedly spinning chain as a cobra will follow the movement of a snake charmers flute while being unable to hear the sound of the music. 
Hey-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh-hey-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh! the phantom Indians chanted in Larrys head.  Louder and louder, the movie was building to a dramatic segue.  In the next scene he expected the director to cut to an interior shot of a settlers cabin as ma, never a frail and worn plains woman, always a pert and attractive starlet in B westerns, set her kitchen table with blue tin plates and serving platters of foods unlikely to be found at that time and place in the west.  Such were the dreams of Hollywood.
Winscott was facing a dream of his own.  Nightmare would be a more appropriate description.  The huge snake kept its eyes on the chain saw as Larry waved it over his head.  Roar!  Roar!  Roar!  The noise was deafening within the porch with the doors and windows closed.  Larry wondered what more he could do to frighten this huge monster.  How could he scare it away?
Then it was too late.  The snake struck faster than anything Larry had ever seen.  Its mouth closed over both of Larrys legs, nearly up to the knees.  Small but deadly teeth pierced his skin.  The pain was white hot.  The horror was overwhelming!  He was being consumed alive!
Boom-boom-boom-boompity-boom-boom-boom-boompity!  
Larry swung the chain saw at the snakes skull and struck hard.  The deadly teeth of the chain saw easily bit through the snakes thin skin and struck bony plate.  The saw skittered sideways and Larry nearly lost his grasp.  He lifted the saw overhead and swung again with similar, useless results.
Larry knew there was only one way to keep this creature from eating him alive.  A snakes teeth are angled to the rear; there is no way the snake could spit out something once it had begun to swallow.  The snake could not stop eating Larry.
Hey-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh-hey-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh! the Indians sang while their leather moccasins stirred the dust.
Unless  He raised the saw again and brought it down once more.  This time he brought it down across both his legs, just above the knee.  The pain was unimaginable but it was the only way to save his life.  He held the trigger tightly pressed in his right hand while his jaw and teeth were no less tightly clenched.  He wanted to scream but if he opened his mouth let the air rush out he knew he wouldnt have the resolve to hold the saw.
Blood, flesh and bone squirted from the saw.  It struck the floor.  It struck the walls.  It spurted to the roof.  Finally, Larrys legs were severed and the snakes head fell to the floor with them.  Greedily it swallowed Larrys legs.  Winscott found the weight of the chain saw pulling him forward, threatening to topple him to the floor, onto the dreadful snake.  He let go of the heavy motor and it crashed on top of the huge snake, the chain still spinning and throwing the saw half way across the room.
He stretched his arms straight out to the edge of the table and managed to hold himself upright, just barely.  Larrys reflexes were trying to hold him self erect with legs that were no longer there.  He fought to hold himself upright in spite of the pain.  His vision was beginning to dim and he felt cold.  He knew what was happening to him, he was suffering the effects of losing a huge quantity of blood.  The more he strained to hold himself upright, the faster his heart pumped the blood from the arteries of his severed legs.  He grew colder, steadily colder.
His vision began losing color, changing from gray to black, and then an even deeper black.  His ears were ringing, as though he could hear the thump-thump-thumpity-thump of his heart.  Finally, he blacked out.  He didnt even feel it when his unconscious body toppled forward, falling from the precarious perch upon the table.  His chest hit the splintered leg of the broken stool.  The broken spear jutted straight up from the floor and it was sharp enough to pierce right through Larrys torso.  He ended lying flat on the floor with the bloody splinter protruding from his back.
When the drunken mans brain was no longer functioning, when it was no longer capable of conjuring up fantasy demons, the huge snake and fat gray rats left the room. The old man was alone.  Larry Winscott died alone.
The sound track of the B-western rose to a crescendo.  Hey-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh-hey-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh! Boom-boom-boom-boompity-boom-boom-boom-boompity!


Chapter 1

Lane Mauler eased off the gas pedal and the two-and-a-half ton rental truck began slowing in spite of the downhill grade.  The green and white sign to the right of the road read Valley Forks, Pop. 254, Elev. 5466.  Looks as though this is the big city, Tutu, he said to the fifteen-year-old girl sitting across from him.
The girl had earphones over her head, the wire leading to a CD player sitting between them on the front seat.  Her head was bobbing in time with music only she could hear.  Her eyes were nearly shut, pointedly ignoring the last hundred miles of desert they had driven through.  As she felt the truck slow she lifted her head and glanced around.  They were approaching a small town.  Correction: a wide spot in the road with a combination gas station and restaurant, she told herself.
Whats this? she asked her dad.
 Home, he said, almost.
Ughh, how gross, Dad.  She made a face as if to visibly show signs of her disgust and disappointment.  This burg is so far out in the sticks they probably don't even get Monday until Wednesday.  Ill bet the nearest shopping mall is a hundred miles behind us in Las Vegas.  She scanned both sides of the road getting an idea of the new town her father had chosen for them to live in.  She was dismally depressed.
Youre half right, her dad said.  The nearest shopping mall is behind us, in Las Vegas.  But its nearer two hundred miles than one hundred.  Fallon is northwest, about a hundred and forty miles, and Ely (he pronounced it Eelee) is about the same distance to the east.  But Tonopah is only about eighty miles south of us, just past Belmont.
Christ Dad!  Where do people shop around here?
Around here?  Mostly they dont.  You make a list and go into town, two, maybe three times a month, to pick up what you need.  And watch your mouth, Cheryl Ann.  Youre supposed to be a young lady, you know.
Yeah, as if anybody around here would care.  With her hand she made a broad sweep of the view around them.  They dont even have a McDonalds or Dairy Queen.  No Taco Bell and no Burger King.  What do people eat around here?
I guess they make do at Arts Exxon and Eats.  He pointed to the building just twenty yards in front of them and pulled onto the gravel, his tires making a crunchy sound as he stopped the rental truck and shifted into park.  Lets see what kind of burgers Art makes.  Its after lunch already, and Im beginning to get hungry.  I could also do with a coffee.  How about yourself?  He killed the ignition and stepped out of the truck.  Tutu lazily slipped out on the passenger's side.
Cheryl surveyed the gas station/coffee shop and made a face.  Any port in a storm, I guess the saying goes.  Where do you suppose our house will be, dad?
Somewhere close, Tutu.  He gave his daughter a smack across her shorts.  Lets get something to eat and ask inside.
Daddy! the girl said.  People might see.  Im not a six-year-old anymore.  A flush came to her cheeks.
Keep reminding me, he said playfully.  The way you act sometimes, I have a tendency to forget.
Okay.  So I pout sometimes.  You know that Im not real happy about moving to this no-where place.  I cant hide the fact.  You have to see my side of things.  I mean, this is quite a change from Long Beach.  Im not even sure were still in the same century up here.  They had been walking as they talked, now the girl reached the door of the coffee shop and held it open for her dad.
Thanks, dear, he said, but this time well let beauty go before age.  Inside they found a small counter with candies, mints, and cigarettes.  A cash register set upon the counter.  Next to the cash register was a pasteboard card with small cellophane bags of Granny Tituss Paiute Potpourri for a dollar each.  A freckled redhead of about fifteen stood behind the counter.  She wore blue-jeans, a long sleeved knit pull-over and a nametag which read Ruth.  Behind her were digital readouts and on/off switches for the three gas pumps out front.
Hi, she said, genuinely cheerful.  Welcome to Valley Forks.  Find yourselves a seat and Ill be right with you.
Along the left-hand wall Lane saw a lunch counter with eight or nine stools in front of it.  In the center of the room were eight booths in two rows of four, separated only by a corrugated fiberglass partition that was easy to see over when you were standing, but gave privacy when seated.  To the right of the booths were six short grocery aisles.  The aisles stuck out into the room with plenty of space for customers to pass down them or between them and the lunch booths.  Above each aisle, a convex mirror attached to the ceiling allowed the person at the check out counter to keep an eye on what was happening between the rows.  
Between the grocery shelves and booths, moving toward the rear of the building was a wide, clear area about twenty feet by forty.  The back wall of the building was made of built-in cold storage boxes.  Through their glass fronts, Lane could see milk, beer, soda, a few lunch-meats, packaged cheese items, eggs, and other odds and ends.  It looked as though Art was providing for some of the needs of the residents of Valley Forks.
Father and daughter settled into the nearest booth with Cheryl sitting across from her dad.  Ruth showed up and placed two glasses of water in front of them.  The table was all ready set with service for four and the girl picked up the extra silverware, holding it in one hand as she set down two menus.  Can I get you folks something to drink while youre deciding?  The girl had a pleasant smile and a cheerful voice.  She obviously didnt feel that her job was sheer drudgery, or perhaps Art paid well enough to make it interesting for her.
Yes, please, Lane said.  Coffee for me, and Cheryl...? he let the question hang while motioning to her with his empty right hand.  The waitress followed his lead and turned her attention to the girl in the booth.
A diet Pepsi, please.  Cheryl gave the girl a fairly sincere smile.  Maybe they would be friends.  They might be the only teenage girls within a hundred miles.  Ruth left to fetch the beverages.
Surveying the menu Lane muttered, I think Ill have the chili in a sourdough bowl.
Dad, you always order chili, even when you could have chicken or a steak.  Boy!  Our new house is gonna smell tonight!
Cheryl! her dad cautioned in a voice hardly above a whisper.
Well, excuse me, Cheryl said.  I mean, its not like this place is so crowded Id be shouting it to the world.
Behave, Cheryl Ann, her father said firmly.  The girl knew he meant business when he called her Cheryl Ann.  Any other time he called her Tutu, a nickname shed picked up when just a small child and still young enough for dad to collect kisses from his number one girl, his wife, and his number two girl, his daughter.  Shed been Number Two, or just Tutu, as long as she could remember, except when she displeased him.  
Then his wife died two years ago.  Twenty-six months, two weeks, and three days.  But who was keeping track?  Shed been the victim of an unsolved carjacking.  Neither Lane nor his daughter felt any one could ever be the number one girl again.  But Cheryl Ann remained Tutu.
Lane seldom thought about his wife being dragged from behind the wheel of her dark blue Nissan.  He couldnt.  He couldnt allow the picture to form in his mind of her laying on the asphalt while a bullet smashed into her uncomprehending face, shattering her Pepsodent smile into broken chunks of dental material.  The three-eighty bullet ripped past her teeth and left chunks of bone, flesh, and blood on the pavement where it ended as a crumpled mass of lead and copper.  The first bullet hadnt been enough to kill her instantly, but the second one, fired by the young killer, without so much as a seconds thought, had penetrated Annes chest, fired at a downward angle as she lay prone on the street, driving under her left breast and exploding into her heart.
Lane shook his head and pushed the flash of memory away from his consciousness.  Because of departmental policy, he hadnt even been allowed to get close to the case, but he heard things.  He knew things.  He grieved until he could grieve no more.  He cried until his eyes were red and raw, his cheeks covered with the salty warmth of his tears.
He wouldnt drink, knowing you cant find answers at the bottom of a bottle.  Besides, he still had a daughter who needed him.  The only thing he could do was to hide the memory of his dead wife in the deepest and darkest drawers of the filing cabinet that held his dreams and fears.  And he could get Tutu out of the sewer called a city.  Lane Mauler dealt with his loss, with the end of his marriage, the end of his world as it had been to that day, by hiding from it.  He closed the book and tried to pretend that part of his life had never happened, that it was just an empty void where there should have been eighteen years of memories.  Eighteen years of whispered affection.  Eighteen years of shared responsibilities.  Eighteen years of trips to the supermarket, vacations at Tahoe, at the beach, a cruise to Hawaii on their fifth anniversary.  Lane couldnt hide from all the memories, but he could try.
Ruth returned and set down the drinks.  Are you ready to order now?  Or would you like more time?
Lane looked at his daughter and nodded that she should order first.  She glanced at the waitress and said, Ill take the tuna salad and a couple lemon wedges.  Thats all.
Ruth scribbled on her pad and turned to Lane.  And you, sir?
The sourdough chili, please, and a bottle of Tabasco.
The girl scribbled on her pad then looked round the table once more.  Anything else?
Thatll do for now, I guess, Lane said.  The waitress collected the menus and went behind the lunch counter where she stuck her order slip on a wheel in a window to the kitchen.  She slammed her hand down on a bell in the window.  Ding!  Ding!  Ordering! she shouted.  A hand came up and grabbed the ticket.  Lane saw the head and shoulders of a man with a pudgy face and a toothpick in his mouth.  He wore a paper cap over his graying hair.  The man looked at the ticket and said something to Ruth that Lane couldnt hear.
Ruth turned and grabbed a saucer from behind the lunch counter.  She set it in her work area and reached down into a refrigerated unit and took out a square, stainless steel pan.  She removed four lemon wedges from the pan and put them on the saucer, then put the pan away.  She rummaged beneath the counter and came up with a bottle of Tabasco.
She came to their table in moments and set the saucer of lemon wedges in front of Cheryl and the Tabasco in front of Lane.  I see youre driving a U-Haul and towing a pickup, she said by way of conversation.  You folks coming up from Vegas?  Passing through?
Yeah, up from Vegas, Lane said, and L.A. before that.  Actually were new in town here.  He stuck out his hand.  My names Lane Mauler.  Im gonna be the new deputy here.
Ruth shook his hand and gave him a wide smile.  Well, pleased to meet you, sheriff.  Valley Forks aint a big town, and its mostly peaceful.  An occasional traffic ticket or something once in awhile, but no trouble.  I think you and your family are gonna like it here.  Sure enough.  
Lane smiled back.  If all the folks in town are as nice as you, Ruthie, Im sure we will. The one with the long face over there, he pointed at Cheryl Ann, is my daughter.  Im afraid that she has noticed that this town doesnt have a teen hangout.
Oh, but we do, Ruth said to Cheryl.  "Martins Video is only a block from here, one street over.  Hes got bout a thousand video tapes and half a dozen video games in a play room, and a pool table, and a yogurt bar, and soft drinks.  Everybody goes there after school.  If anything is happening in town, youll hear about it there.
Cheryl seemed to brighten up.  You mean theres life in these hills?
Well, not like Vegas, or L.A., not even like Tonopah, Ruth said, but its not boring either.  Give it a week or so.  I think the town will grow on you.
No offense, Cheryl said, but that sounds like itd take a miracle.
Youll see. Ruth smiled back.
The man in the kitchen rang the bell and shouted, Orders up!  Ruth turned and bounced away.
Nice kid, Lane said.
Holy barf! Cheryl said, with a look of disgust.  Video games yet.
Ruth returned shortly, a plate in each hand.  She set a salad in front of Cheryl and a large plate with a sourdough loaf hollowed out in the center and filled with chili in front of Lane.  The cook stepped up behind her and nodded to Lane.
Art Tyson, the chunky man said, wiping both hands on a bar-towel stuck into the waistband of his apron.  He stuck out a hand to Lane.  Ruthie said youre gonna be the new deppity here in town?
Thats right, Lane said as he half rose and shook the mans hand.  The grip was firm and the hand callused from hard work.  Lane Mauler.  Pleased to meet you.  He pointed across the table.  My daughter, Cheryl.
Tyson reached over and took Cheryls offered hand. Pleased to meetcha young lady.  He added to Lane, Youre gonna like it here, deppity.  Not much trouble.  Not much work for you.  The county provides a house, its over on Borax Street.  Just that way, he hitched his thumb across the street, two blocks.  You wanna meet anybody or find out anything in this town, just ask me.  Any time.  I open at six and close at nine, except Friday and Saturday, then we stay open until midnight, or until the crowd goes home.
The crowd? Lane asked.
Well, aint much.  Maybe fifteen or twenty people unless its really cold.  Winter time, we may get forty or fifty locals when the state plows the road.  Couple prospectors, maybe a sheep rancher or two.  Ocourse we got the school teachers livin in town, and a few people with a pension from the state or the government.  Couple on social security.  Used to be a pretty good crowd when the mine was open.  That was the Bellamy Number Four, but it shut down in eighty-four, or five, when the price of silver dropped.  Some folks moved away, some stayed.  Those that were eligible took social security and retired.
Quiet here in the Valley, he went on.  Toquima Range to the west and Monitor Range to the east.  A man can do a little hunting or a little trapping during the season.  Still a bounty on coyote in this state, ifn you can outsmart them critters.  An we got a marsh ten or leven miles south.  You can shoot ducks there in season.  Or if you hanker for big city action, Vegas is only a hop-skip-and a jump away.
"I guess a fellow could keep pretty active around here," Lane said.
I got the gas station and the coffee shop to keep me busy.  The wife has her garden and her quilting club.  Shes usually in from ten to four minding the kitchen so I can get a little rest before dinner, but shes shopping over in Tonopah today.  Couple of the women folk carpool to the market once a week.  Yer wife would be welcome to join with em Im sure.  Makes a long drive shorter when you got company and saves on gas too.  They got moren a dozen women signed up in sort of a co-op.  If youre not going to town this week, you can still turn in your shopping list and theyll pick up whatever you need.
My wife died some time ago, Lane said quietly.  He didnt add that the punk who had killed Anne had never been caught.  He didnt add that the dark blue Nissan had been dumped in Corona less than an hour later.  A god-damned joy ride had been the cause of Annes death.   No, not the cause.  The cause of her death had been a teen-aged punk with a three-eighty auto who had needed a car for less than an hour before abandoning it forty miles away.  The senseless death that had obliterated a mans family was the main reason hed brought Cheryl Ann to live in this small town.  He didnt want her to be exposed to that kind of violence any more, not if he could prevent it.  In fact, he admitted to himself, he was nearly paranoid on the subject.  What good was law enforcement when a sharp lawyer could get a punk kid out on bail in an afternoon, and the kid would be six states away before midnight?  Or, if you were lucky enough to get the kid to trial and win a conviction, the scum would get sentenced to six years and be out in eighteen months on parole and ready to rob or maim innocent people again.  Lane hoped he was getting away from that kind of rut.  He wanted to get about as far away from a big city as one could get while remaining close enough for Tutu to get good schooling and have medical and dental care nearby.
Oh, sorry to hear that, Art said.  He appeared to be at a loss for words.  Well, if your daughter will be your housekeeper, Im sure the women would love to meet her.
Thanks, well welcome their help.  But Id like for Cheryl Ann to be able to spend most of her time just being a teenager.  Shell only be young once, you know.  Therell be time enough for house keeping when shes older.
Well, Art said again while backing away toward the kitchen, You folks enjoy your lunch.  If theres any incidentals you need when you get moved into the house, remember Im open til nine.  I dont carry a large selection, just a few things you might get caught short of and need before the next shopping day.
Thanks, Art.  Cheryl will probably send me back with a list this evening before you close.  Lane took his seat again and picked up his spoon.  Art and Ruthie went away to let them eat in peace.  Friendly people, Lane said as he pushed aside the phantom thoughts in his mind, thoughts still too painful for him to live with.
So were the Beverly Hillbillies, the young girl observed.  She squeezed a lemon wedge dripping juice onto her salad.  An errant drop spurted into her eye.  Oww, she said.
Lane chuckled.  He shook salt into his chili and started adding Tabasco.  The smell of vinegar permeated the air.  A few minutes later, with his chili half-finished and Cheryl toying with her salad, Ruth returned with the coffee pot.  A little more? she asked.  Lanes mouth was full but he held his cup out to her. 
When he had finished, Lane dropped a couple singles on the table and walked to the front door with Cheryl.  He stopped at the cash register to pay the bill.
Sure enjoyed the chili, Ruthie.  Especially the sourdough bowl.
Ill tell my dad, she said.  He bakes the bread fresh every morning.  Sure gets your heart going in winter when theres a foot of snow on the ground.
You get much snow here? he asked.
Not sos youd notice.  Couple inches in October, couple more in November and December.  But it sticks around on account of the elevation.  Might get ten or twelve inches in a typical winter.  If its a real heavy winter, maybe we get as much as two or two and a half feet.  The state plows the main road right away, but the few side roads we have in town dont get the plow.  Deputy Foster, the one that retired to San Diego a few months back, he used to plow the side roads with a blade attached to his sheriffs truck.
I guess thats a chore Ill inherit, Lane said.  Its been nice talkin with you, Ruthie.  I hope you and Cheryl will get along well.
No problem there, deputy.  In Valley Forks you either get along or move along, as my dad says.  Most folks here get along just fine.
Thanks again, Ruthie.  Be seein you.
Take care, she called as he and Tutu went out the door.
Cheryl had already crawled up in the passenger seat of the U-Haul truck.  Lane climbed up and started the engine.  After checking for traffic he put on his signal and pulled out onto the highway.
 He turned left on Rhyolite and found Borax one block past Pyrite.  
He paused a moment to get his bearings.  The house provided by the county was supposed to be at 106 Borax, but there was no indication of which way the numbers ran and he couldnt see any on the few houses and mobile homes visible from where he sat.  On a hunch he turned left, figuring that street numbers would begin at the edge of town as folks drove in from Las Vegas to the south.
He was wrong.  When he did spot a few house numbers they were in the four and five hundreds.  Figures, he told Cheryl.  Las Vegas was just dust flats when the mining boom hit this town.  Stands to reason the rail road came in from Fallon and Reno north of here.  He turned left and drove around the block until he was back on Borax again.  This time he turned right and three minutes later he was pulling into the drive of number 106 Borax.  
The house set on a steep slope about ten yards up from the street.  There was no curb.  He set the parking brake and got out.  Cheryl climbed down from the passenger side and they walked to the steps leading up to a covered porch that ran the full width of the house and continued around the side opposite the carport.
The Maulers ascended the stairs and Lane dug into his pocket for the key he had been given three weeks ago in Tonopah when hed been interviewed and hired for the job.  He opened the door and Cheryl pushed her way in and raced up the stairs to pick out her room.  Lane heard her racing around upstairs, opening doors and closets as she explored.
Lane poked around the ground floor.  There was a living room overlooking the porch and open also down the right side of the house.  The furniture was sparse.  Well, Lane thought, they said it was partially furnished.  He and Cheryl had moved from an un-furnished apartment in Long Beach, and they still had the furniture that Lane and his wife had picked out years earlier.  The sofa and love seat would look nice flanking that coffee table someone had left.  His recliner would go here, he pictured the view in his minds eye.  The TV and entertainment center would sit just along side the fireplace.  It would be a comfortable place to spend an evening.
Lane backed out of the living room and found a parlor just across the front hall.  The small room had been converted to an office and there was a computer workstation (minus computer) sitting on one side of the room.  The other side held a broad desk made from an unfinished door laid across two double-drawer filing cabinets.  A phone and florescent lamp topped the table, which was empty except for IN and OUT boxes and a third marked HOLD.  A green, three-ring binder lay next to the phone with Nye County Sheriffs Office, Standing Operating Procedures labeled on the front.  Above the table was a three by four bulletin board with half a dozen notices tacked on it.  Hed have to take a look at them first thing after getting moved in. 
A second door led from the parlor to the kitchen.  In the kitchen he found a counter top with built-in sink facing a window overlooking the yard at the rear of the house.  Across from the sink was a propane range and conventional refrigerator.  One end of the room had a dinette set and a broad window facing the north side of the property.  It would have been more scenic facing any other direction.  East would have made a nice place for breakfast, with the sun coming over the mountains across the highway.  South would look across a side street to the neighbors house.  West would have yielded a fantastic view at sunset.  The back yard sloped gently up to woods behind the property and leading to the mountains in the middle distance.  Looking north, however, there was only a narrow strip of lawn and a chain link fence dividing this property from their neighbor.  Lane saw a plastic Big Wheel on the neighbors lawn, along with a child size two-wheeler and surmised that his new neighbors had at least two children.
Across the kitchen from the dinette, a sliding door called a pocket door led back into the living room with its formal dining table.  At right angles to the pocket door another door opened into a walk-through pantry that opened in turn on a screened in back porch.  Lane admired the size of the pantry and felt that it could easily store enough food to last an entire winter.  Logical, he admitted, since there would have been no electric refrigeration when this boomtown had been constructed.  In summer, ice had probably been brought by railroad from Virginia City or Reno.
Cheryl had come down stairs and was talking a mile a minute about her room and the size of the master bath upstairs between her room and her dads, the spare bedroom across from hers, the extensive built in closets, and the half-bath beneath the stairwell.
And the view out my bedroom window is unbelievable!  The ground slopes gently up to the hills behind us and there are pines everywhere.  Dad, Ive just got to have a horse so I can go riding in the mountains.  Theres plenty of land behind us, and you can build some stalls out back.  And theres a small greenhouse and a space for a garden already fenced off, and we can shovel the manure into the garden, and itll be really fabulous
Whoa, Tutu!  Hold on, her father said.  The closest youve ever been to a horse is that Mustang coupe the Obrien kid drove when we lived in Long Beach.  And he was much too old for you anyway.  For the second time today he was reminded that Cheryl Ann was the reason he had responded to a want ad in Law Enforcement Monthly and had interviewed for the job of deputy sheriff in this small town in Nevadas largest county, actually the second largest county in the US.
Cheryl Ann had always been a good girl.  She didnt smoke, didnt drink, and didnt use drugs.  She got good grades in school, but people in the city grow up with different ideas of which things in life are the important ones.  Lane wanted his daughter to learn that family, and the things you accomplish yourself, were the real ideals in life.
Looks like Im going to have to get used to a gas stove again, Cheryl said.  And I had just gotten used to the electric range in Long Beach.
Electric might be inconvenient up here in the winter, hon.  You get ice on the power lines, a pole goes down, and you eat cold beans until the power company gets it fixed.  Might be two or three days.  Thats why theres a fireplace in the living room and ceiling registers so the warm air can rise up to the second floor.
Are you going to play Paul Bunyan and keep us stocked with firewood for the winter? she asked.
Me?  Not hardly!  When I was a kid on grandpas farm in Pennsylvania, thats where the winters are really cold, he gave her a wink, we heated our home with coal.  Instead of burning hot and fast, coal starts out slow but burns longer and more evenly.  We could build a fire in the evening and still have plenty of heat come noon the following day.
But coal is smelly! his daughter put in.
Not really, he said.  Well install an airtight fireplace insert so as to stay warm inside while all the smell goes up the chimney.  In the long run, coal is cheaper too, compared to buying wood for heating, and you dont have to keep the coal out of the snow and rain to keep it dry.
Well, thats your business, his teenage daughter admitted.  The kitchen is mine.  Do you suppose we can get the gas company to turn on the gas this afternoon? she asked.
There is no gas company.  We get propane home delivered.  Theres a two-hundred and forty gallon tank next to the carport.  Ill go out and turn on the propane then come back and light the pilots for the stove and the hot water heater.  And Ill check the indicator on the tank and see how soon well have to order propane.
Ill go with you, dad.  I want to begin bringing my things in from the U-Haul.
Fine, he said.  If it happens that your things are packed behind household things, you might give a hand bringing those in also.  Omigosh!  I havent checked to see if the power is on yet.
Whats the big deal, dad?  We can pretend like were camping out, just like we did up at Big Bear last year.  I'm sure you can get some candles down at Art's store.
What I mean is that we dont have city water here.  We have a well somewhere out back.  No electricity, no water pump for the well.
Oh, how primitive, she said, as her dad flipped on the kitchen lights and she breathed an audible sigh of relief when the kitchen brightened.  
You'll have to see about getting a sample of our well water tested," she said.  "We dont want to come down with the creeping-crud or never-get-overs, or something.
Lane grabbed her shoulders and planted a kiss on her forehead.  Of course, Tutu.  But, Im sure the well is fine.  This house has belonged to the country for a couple decades at least.  Still, Ill have to look at the equipment and see if we need to stock up on any kind of spare filters or water conditioning salt, or whatever.  Ill take care of it.  Cmon, Tutu, we got a truck to unload.  Not to forget about my pickup.
Father and daughter left by the front door.  He unlocked the rear door to the U-Haul for Cheryl before checking the propane tank and turning on the gas.  The gas indicator said sixty percent, so he figured they would have plenty to last them until he found out who made the deliveries and set up an account with them.
Cheryl was already half way up the steps with a box labeled kitchen when he finished with the tank.  Lane grabbed a similar box and sprinted after her, opening the door and propping it open with the box he held.  They would leave it open until they finished with the unloading.
Guess we might have to put up with a few flies or mosquitoes tonight," he said.  "Theyre bound to sneak in anyway with us going in and out all afternoon.
Cheryl deposited her box on the kitchen counter and went outside to fetch another.  Lane took a disposable lighter from his pocket and lit the stove pilots then went through the pantry to the back porch to light the hot water heater.  He didnt smoke, hadnt in more than fifteen years, but he considered a lighter to be an important survival tool.  You could never tell when you would need a brief light in the darkness.  Or, up here in the mountains, you could be stranded on a side road some night and have to make a fire to keep warm or signal for help.  He carried the lighter as well as a folding pocketknife, just in case.
From the back porch, he surveyed the rear of the house and the slope leading up to the tall pines and the mountains behind them.  It gave him a feeling of space, of openness.  Something hed never felt east of the Mississippi.  Even in Pennsylvania, at the home of his father, and grandfather before that, the land was never open.  Even on a four hundred acre farm, you didnt have to go far before you came to a fence and the farm of your next-door neighbor.
Once hed been sitting in his recliner in the apartment in Long Beach, reading a book, while Anne watched a home decorating show on cable TV.  The New York decorator was trying to describe to his audience how western dcor differed from eastern dcor and eastern furnishings.  He found weak analogies and ended by falling back upon a description in words, saying that western dcor gave one a feeling of openness and durability; heavy furnishings, bright open rooms, and a spaciousness that couldnt be found in the east.  Looking upon the scene at the rear of his new home, Lane knew what the man had been trying to convey.  It seemed as though the whole world lay at his doorstep.  Immense was too small a word to describe the impressions he felt.
He unlatched the screen and stepped down two rickety wooden steps, making a mental note that they should be replaced.  There was indeed a small fenced garden that Tutu had mentioned, with a twelve by sixteen greenhouse on the right hand side.  The pump and captive air tank for the well were inside the greenhouse and Lane admired the simplicity of the setup.  Rather than build an insulated shed and install heating to keep the water lines from freezing, the builder had known that, in Nevada, even winter days are usually sunny.  The south-facing greenhouse would absorb solar heat and store it in the soil to be slowly released during the night.  It would be rare if the interior temperature ever dropped below freezing, and then only for short periods, not long enough to allow freezing of the exposed pipes or the captive air tank.
Lane stirred up the soil of the small garden plot with his boot and stooped to grab a handful, just as hed seen his father do so many times back in Pennsylvania.  He sniffed the soil, tasted it.  Although he wasnt the expert his father was, he judged the soil would provide a fine garden.
Tutu had stepped down off the porch and walked across the lawn to join him.
See, dad?  Just like I told you.  And if we built a small stable just over there, she pointed, with a lean-to for feed, wed have manure right close to our garden.  If I had a horse, Ill bet Id really feel at home here.
He had to admire her persistence.  Of course she knew hed give in, eventually.  Well, Ive always sort of wanted to have a mule, myself.  I know they still have wild horse and burro roundups here in Nevada, but I think that a condition of adoption is that the animal has to be removed from the state.  Its a Bureau of Land Management program to cut down on over grazing or something.  Remind me to check into the particulars.  I guess we might be able to work something out.
Tutu smiled.  And Ill really help, dad.  I will.
Yeah, youll shovel the crap into a wheel barrow and Ill haul it to the garden.  I can see it now.
Oh, no dad.  Youll shovel and Ill do the hauling.
Lane scratched his chin.  I dunno, Tutu.  A wheel barrow can get pretty heavy when its fully loaded.  Why dont I do the hauling?
Cause, dad, youre the boss, and the boss dont take shit from nobody!
Lane feigned a bullet through the heart.  He chuckled.  You got me that time, Tutu.  He mussed her short hair then put an arm around her shoulder.  At least riding is something that we can do together, and you know that I wanted to make this move so that I would have more time for you now thatI mean since were
I know, dad.  Alone.  On our own.  By our selves.  I miss her too, and I guess I always will.
Yeah, me too, little one.  But, about livestock, Id rather have a mule than a horse, he said.
Why, dad?  All the cowboys ride horses.  Nobody rides mules, theyre for pulling a wagon or a plow, arent they
Lots of times, yes.  You want to know why most cowboys rode horses?
Sure.  Tell me, dad.
Cause a mule wont let you ride him lessen youre smarter than he is!
Youre teasing.  Arent you?  She gave him a questioning look.
Only a little.  See, a mule is too smart to drink so much when hes heated that hell founder.  And he wont eat so much that hell get colicky.  And mules just naturally have more stamina.  What a westerner calls bottom.  Fact is, back around 72 or 73, as I recollect, the American Quarter Horse Association sponsored a cross-country race.  Open to the finest breeds of four-legged animals.  Arabians, appaloosas, you name it.  If it had four legs and you could ride it, you were eligible.  The race covered twenty-two hundred miles, starting somewhere back east and ending out here in the west.  Would you believe that race was won by a mule?
Nahh, youre kidding me?
He raised his right hand in a boy-scout oath.  Gospel truth!  You can look it up in old newspaper files.  Or maybe find it on the Internet.  I kid you not.
Well, I still would rather have a horse.  Sounds more romantic to me.
I know, knights in shining armor and all that.  Dashing Spanish caballeros.
The conversation was cut short by the sound of a very loud bell designed to alert anyone outdoors that the phone was ringing.  Well, he said to his daughter, at least the phone is working.  Guess I better see whats going on and we can talk about building a stable and tack room some other time.
The girl smiled at him.  But we will, wont we, dad?  And soon, too.
You betcha, Tutu.  Come on now.  She beat him to the back door and sped through the house and out the front door to bring in more household things.
Lane went through the kitchen to the office and answered the phone.
Mauler, he said.
Sheriff?  Ruth Tyson here, down at the Exxon.  Ed Bromley came in a minute or so ago.  Hes a local, ya know?  He says somethin bad happened over to Larry Winscotts shack.  Ed wanted to call the sheriff down in Tonopah, but it would take them more than an hour to get here.  Thats why they have a deputy here.  Well, Ed didnt know that you was here to replace Deputy Foster, so I figured that I better call you.  Can you come down here to the diner and take charge of this?  Ed seems pretty upset.
Sure, Ruthie.  Ill be there in five minutes.  He hung up and pulled a spiral notebook and pen from his pocket.  He wrote down his home number and headed out the front door where he found Tutu bringing in another box.
Looks like Im going to have to get on the job right away, Short Stuff.  Ill be back as soon as I find out whats going on.  Ive got the phone number here written down so I can call you if I get delayed moren an hour or two.  Ill give you a call if Im going to be gone longer.  You wont burn the house down or anything while Im gone, will you?  
Of course not, daddy.  Although I might call you in the truck if youre gone longer than I think you should be.  Dont get in over your head, she cautioned him. Theres no backup just a radio call away.  You dont even have a radio yet.
I have my cell phone, and you know the number.  Dont worry, Tutu.  Im always careful.  Bye.
*     *     *
Groom Lake, known in UFO circles as Area 51, lay one hundred and thirty-five miles to the south east of Valley Forks.  Less than half that distance, but still part of the same government reservation, was Site 4-Fox.  4-Fox took advantage of the same high tech security that the government provided for Area 51.  It had barbed wire fencing with small signs every fifty meters that said US Government Reservation, No Trespassing, Use of Deadly Force Authorized.
At intervals, remote TV cameras with low-light capability were positioned.  Between them were PSIDs, or Personnel Seismic Intrusion Devices, that would sound an alarm when a footfall heavier that a fat jackrabbit passed near.  There were also Magnetic Anomaly Detectors that would react to the proximity and motion of ferrous metal.  These were to foil the approach of anyone in a vehicle or carrying anything made of iron or steel.  All the devices were linked by UHF and EHF data links to a central security post manned by no less than one watch commander and three security technicians twenty-four hours a day.  The watch commander had immediate response teams standing by in Humvees on call at all times.  He also had a hot line to nearby Nellis Air Force Base and could scramble a fighter strike team with three minutes notice.  The strike team, a pair of armed F-18 Eagles, could be overhead in just twelve minutes.
Most of this hardware had been installed shortly after World War II to provide a secure facility for testing prototypes of top-secret aircraft.  It was also used as an aid to security of the Nevada Test Site where hundreds of above and below ground nuclear tests had been performed before the treaty banning such tests went into effect.
Site 4-Fox was administered by the US Army and was home to a small detachment of scientists, technicians, and security personnel under the direction of Colonel Victor Augustus Manleigh, US Army Chemical Corps.  Even though the United States had widely and publicly denounced the development and stockpiling of chemical and biological agents of war, the mission of the personnel at Site 4-Fox was to test and evaluate chemical and biological agents for defense.  It was referred to in ultra secret communications as Test and Evaluation Center, Biological Agent Defense Unit, or TECBAD-U.
Col. Manleigh served principally as chief administrator and liaison between his civilian charges and the Pentagon.  He had a doctorate in organic chemistry and additional training in ORSA, Operational Research and Systems Analysis.  He did no research.  His job was to pass information back and forth between the technical specialists at Site 4-Fox and the non-technical military brass.  His principal assistant was an Army major by the name of Charles Bricker.
Maj. Bricker, familiarly called Brick, was an Infantry officer with paratroop and ranger training.  He exercised direct authority over the security forces at Site 4-Fox.  Mostly he conducted drills, mock breaches in security, and evaluated the response of his security troops.  Where possible, he identified weak points and instituted improvements.  It was a thankless job since there was rarely anything more dangerous than a coyote or wild burro attempting to crash through the sites elaborate defensive measures.  He considered those odd occasions when uninformed rock-hounds, dirt bikers, or picnickers set off the alarms as amusing diversions.  Years ago, before Bricks time, the occasional nuclear activist would attempt to sneak inside the perimeter to protest or disrupt nuclear testing.  None of them had ever succeeded nor been in any danger of interfering with scheduled tests.  Nowadays, about the most Brick could hope for would be a die-hard UFO fan trying to gain entry to Area 51.  They had never been lucky either.
At 1638 hours on August 23, Col. Manleigh and Maj. Bricker were seated in a conference room with a civilian, Dr. Ross Pribotte, a fifty-two year old man with iron gray hair trimmed in a military crew cut who headed up the research arm of TECBAD-U.  Also attending was Dr. Wayne Fresno, Pribottes deputy, and a very pretty brunette, Dr. Fawn Enderman.  Dr. Enderman stood five-foot even in her bare feet and weighed ninety-three pounds.  She had received her doctoral degree in psychology and her bachelors and masters degrees in organic chemistry.  She was twenty-seven years old and had published three monographs relating to chemical effects of various substances on the human body.  Her job with TECBAD-U was the first one she had accepted after graduation.  The salary was adequate for her needs, but the equipment and funding for her research was what had attracted her, for it was nearly unlimited.  At the present time she was commenting on a video-tape being shown on the monitor in the conference room.
As you can see, gentleman, the rats testing 2-PPME exhibit marked increases in aggressiveness, and enhanced stamina and strength.  This is exactly what weve been attempting to achieve with agent 2-PPME.  The adverse effects, you can see now.  After dosing two control groups with 2-PPME, the rats were then put in a single communal cage.  It was anticipated that group one would identify with the other members of its community and attack the members of group two.  The reaction desired from the second group was that they would form a group and defend themselves against the attacking rats.
Unfortunately, neither group reacted as planned.  The TV scene began with two wire cages about two-foot square being wheeled in on two separate carts.  One cage bore the letter A on a large white card affixed to it.  The other cage was labeled B.  The cages were shielded with opaque Plexiglas so that none of the rats in either cage could see the others.  Disembodied hands lifted one cage and fastened it to one side of a larger cage, which had removable partitions affixed on two sides.  The partitions could be lifted by a person standing outside the cage and allowed the test animals access to the larger cage in the center.  Next, the other cage of rats was fastened to the opposite side of the cage.
Food and drink have intentionally been withheld from the test subjects for twenty-four hours.  Now, you can see the 2-PPME agent being added by syringe to the drinking dishes in each cage.  After ten minutes, during which time each group drank of the water and time was allowed for the agent to take effect, the partitions to the cages were removed allowing both groups to enter the larger cage.
The disembodied hands on the video display lifted the metal dividers separating the two smaller cages.  At first, one or two rats from each group cautiously ventured into the arena provided by the larger cage.  Then bedlam seemed to ensue.  Rats within the smaller cages began attacking each other without entering the test area.  The few rats in the larger cage also began fighting, biting, clawing and scratching each other.  But there were no clear distinctions between the two groups.  Rats from group A were just as likely to attack each other as to attack rats from the B group.  In shortly under four minutes there were eleven dead rats in the three cages.  One rat, the king of the hill, was still staggering around on all fours, but it soon dropped and died of wounds.
Dr. Enderman continued her remarks without comment on the gladiator rats that had died.  The 2-PPME achieved partial success in that it enhanced the physical and psychological characters of all rats.  It was unsuccessful, however, in fostering any team cohesiveness in either control group.  She used a remote to stop the VCR then got up from the conference table and moved to a light switch.  She flipped it on, flooding the room with harsh florescent lighting.
Comments? Col. Manleigh asked, surveying the others.
Dr. Fresno raised his hand and without waiting to be called upon addressed Dr. Enderman.  Fawn, can we be sure that these rats identified with each other as a group before they were allowed to intermingle?
As much as possible, Wayne, although there is no way to be absolutely certain what goes on inside a rats brain.  On previous occasions, when a strange rat was introduced to either group, there was hostility indicated, but not as intense as we have just observed.  If one rat was introduced to another that had been dosed with the 2-PPME, the drugged rat attacked and killed its opponent every time, and it did so with no additional encouragement.
Then, Col. Manleigh interjected, we can say that the 2-PPME test drug does provide for physical and psychological military enhancement of the individual rat, enhancements we want to reproduce in combat soldiers, but the rats dont exhibit any tendency toward group identification or group loyalty.  They simply attack anything whether they perceive it as an enemy or not.
Yes, sir, Dr. Enderman replied.  We may be on the right track as 2-PPME brings about significant increases in aggressiveness of the rats, but we have yet to demonstrate group loyalty.
In which case, Dr. Pribotte said, the agent is totally useless to the Army.  Theres no benefit in making your soldiers more aggressive if they kill each other as often as they kill the enemy.
More often, Dr. Enderman put in.  The rats in the smaller cages made no effort to attack other rats in the large cage until all the rats in the smaller cages were dead.  In other words, they simply wanted to kill the first thing they could sink their teeth into.
Col. Manleigh asked Dr. Pribotte, Do you think pursuing this agent could lead to more promising results?
Perhaps if we could move up the evolutionary ladder to test subjects which already demonstrate increased group identification.  Maybe baboons?  Or dogs?
Okay, give it a try.  If we dont have any results along these lines in another four weeks, well have to abandon 2-PPME and rush the development of 3-PPME.  Agreed?
Major Bricker abstained from voting since security was his only area of expertise.  The rest of the group glanced at each other and nodded.
Very well, then, Col. Manleigh said.  Dr. Enderman, thank you for your presentation.  Please feel free to call another conference as soon as you have anything additional to report.
She smiled faintly.  Yes, sir.  Thank you.
With a scraping of chairs, each member pushed his chair back on the tile floor and stood.  A few of them worked their legs to restore circulation.  The conference had been going on for nearly two hours.  Major Bricker brought up the rear while they filed out of the conference room.  He stopped at the VCR long enough to eject the tape and take it with him before he punched the off button on the TV and turned off the overhead lights.  The room was left in darkness with only the soft sigh of the air conditioning remaining. 
*     *     *
Lane was out the door before she could say more.  He unhooked the trailer wiring between the U-Haul truck and his pickup, then disconnected the tow bar and locked it in the stow-away position.  His weapon and leather were locked in the console between the bucket seats.  He belted on the Browning nine millimeter before sliding behind the wheel and turning the key.
The Dodge pickup with the Magnum diesel engine was Lanes pride and joy.  While it might be slow in acceleration, as most diesels were, Lane felt certain it would pull a mini-mall up a twenty percent grade if required.  He turned the key and cranked the engine as soon as the GLOW PLUG light was extinguished.
The trip back to the diner was a short one.  Lane could have walked it if he hadnt felt sure that his ultimate destination would not be the diner.  He pulled up in moments and shut the engine off then went inside.
When he pushed his way through the front door Ruth stepped out from behind the counter and led him to a man seated three booths down, drinking hot black coffee while surrounded by a handful of locals.  
Ed, she said, this heres Deputy Lane Mauler.  Just got into town today and hes moving into Fosters place.  I called up to the house and he came right down.
Lane pushed his way up to the table and stood over Bromley.  The man was in his late fifties with thinning gray hair on top that would begin balding in another year or so.  His shoulders were wide and his chest deep.  That Bromley had been used to heavy labor for a good part of his life was obvious.  Lane stuck out his hand and winced when it seemed that Bromley was about to crush the bones in his grip.
Lane Mauler, Mr. Bromley.  Ruthie said you reported some kind of trouble at a friends place?
Trouble?  Yeah, I guess you would say so.  He fixed Lane with a piercing gaze of his light gray eyes.  Blood ever where, deputy, he said while waving his hands about.  An Larry layin there on the floor with a sharp stick pokin outn his back.
Did you check for a pulse?  Do you know if he was dead?
Nossir.  I never went in the house.  I could see him layin there through the front window.  I never saw so much blood in one place afore.  I guess he musta been dead.  Ive dressed a deer here and there; and a hog a time or two, and I aint never seen so much blood.  He musta been dead.  Lord, it werent no pretty sight.
All right, Bromley, what Id like you to do now is get in the car with me and show me how to get there.  Ill have to check into this, officially, you know.
Yessir, Ill be right happy to go with you.  Ol Larry was always a friend to me and Ill do what I can to catch whoever done this.  But please dont ask me ta go inside with ya.
Lane turned to Ruth Tyson.  Im driving my own vehicle tonight, I dont have a county car yet.  But Ive got a cell phone and the number for the county sheriff in Tonopah.  If I have to have them send someone out Ill tell them to stop in here first.  Youll be able to give them directions, wont you?
Sure nuff, Mr. Mauler.  You can depend on me.  But its going to be closin time in little more than an hour.  If you find you wont need me, would you give me a call and let me know sos I can go on home?  She thrust a matchbook into his hand.  The phone numbers on the bottom.
Lane looked at the inexpensive advertising.  Tysons Restaurant and Exxon it said.  Valley Forks, NV.  There was a number beneath the advertising with a seven-seven-five area code.
Ill be sure and call, Ruthie.  Within the hour.  Lane motioned for Bromley to precede him out the door and followed on his heels.  Outside he pointed to the dark blue pickup and got behind the wheel while Bromley slid into the other side.  
As he turned the key the glow plug light came on again.  The short trip to the restaurant hadnt been enough to warm up the engine fully.  When the light went out Lane started the engine and looked at Bromley.  Which way?
Bromley pointed down the road from which Lane and Cheryl Ann had driven into town that afternoon.  That way.  South.  Winscotts place is bout six miles down and then you turn right just past where a dry wash cuts under the road.
Lane backed out of the diner and faced the car south.  He pulled forward with a spray of gravel from tires.  The posted speed limit in town was thirty-five, but Lane pushed it up to forty-five.  Not having an emergency flasher or siren he didnt want to go much faster and risk running into local traffic without warning.  Besides, if Winscott was dead, all the speed in the world would make no difference.
Sheriff? Bromley asked as the trees flashed by in the shadows on either side of the road.  His voice had a humbling tenor to it.  You going to poke around Larrys place much?  I mean looking for evidence and such?
Well, of course I am, Ed.  Thats what the county pays me for.  I have to make a preliminary judgment as to the cause of death.  If I decide that its death by other than natural causes, foul play they call it on the television, Ill have to investigate.  Did Winscott have any obvious enemies here about?
Well, not sos you would say so, sheriff.  But, he stammered and paused as if looking for the precise words he wanted.  well, you see, Larry grew a few plants in a greenhouse of sorts.  Out behind his shack, I mean.
Plants?  You mean dope?  Lane fixed him in the intense glare of his eyes for a moment, then gave his attention back to the winding road before him.  Is there any reason for me to assume that there are drugs involved in what ever has happened?
Nossir!  Every one in these parts and nearby knew Larry raised a little weed.  But he only smoked it hisself!  He never sold any or gave any to anyone else.  Even Deputy Foster knew about Larry's weed, and he never done nothin.  You see, he and Larry was both Viet Nam vets.  An I guess the agent orange give Larry cancer or sumpin.  Anyway, he was always hurtin fierce like.  The VA give him painkillers, and put him on a disability, but Larry said them pills made him plumb sick most of the time.  So he rolled some weed and after a few puffs, he was right as rain.  You know?
Okay, Ed.  Im sure I wouldnt hold that against him either.  But could it be reason enough for someone, either local or from out of town, to want to harm him?  Steal his stash?
I spose anythins possible, sheriff.  But Larry didnt have no visitors that I knowed of.  And I dont spose he got to see many out of towners.  So I dont think anyone from out of town would have driven up here to do him harm.  I might be wrong, but most folks around here seem to know when someone not local is passin through.  Maybe youll find out something if you ask around, but I couldnt say fer a fact.
	Lane drove on in silence for a while and began to digest the newest information provided to him.  Could whatever trouble had occurred have anything to do with a drug deal turned sour?  Off hand, it didnt seem likely.  Marijuana wasnt as fantastically profitable as cocaine, crack, heroin, or the more modern designer drugs.  It was too easily and cheaply obtained to be of much interest to major crime players.  Still, arguments did occur over petty things, and people had been killed for much less than a few potted plants.
There, Bromley pointed as the headlights picked up the white painted posts and guard rail marking a short, two lane bridge.  Just past the bridge.  See where the brush widens out?  Drive right through there.
Land braked hard but still over shot the turnoff and had to back up and go at it again.  He hoped the road wasnt too rutted. The high ground clearance of the pickup, combined with four-wheel drive, would handle just about any situation he might expect to find himself in.  But, when repairs, shock absorbers and wheel alignments came out of his pocket, he didnt like to subject his vehicle to any more abuse than necessary.
He found the house about two hundred yards off the road.  It was up a slight rise just where the dirt track began to enter the woods.  Even on high beam his headlights didnt show him much of the surroundings.  He decided that house was much too generous a word.  Even shack might have been pretentious.  Lane felt that dwelling adequately described the Winscott place.
Larry Winscott lived in a twenty-four or five foot trailer, to which a lean-to had been attached.  At some later date sides and a front had been added to the lean-to.  There was a wide picture window and a screen door on the front side of the lean-to.  A small window was let into the side of the lean-to that corresponded with the front of the little trailer.  The lean-to was about ten foot by twenty, running the length of the trailer.  A second, lower roof extended from the far end of the lean-to.  It was open on the sides and seemed to have been added as a roof for a stack of firewood.  A pipe chimney stuck up from the corrugated sheet metal roof of the lean-to indicating that Larry Winscott probably got the firewood from the nearby woods and used it to heat his home.
He had to admit, it was simple and logical.  If a person bought or leased property in the area, a travel trailer provided immediate livability.  While it would certainly seem crowded after awhile, the added lean-to would give more living room outside the small trailer.  With walls and a source of heating added, the owner would have an inexpensive and draft-free addition to his home.  Winscott, he surmised, was a bachelor.  The trailer would give him basic sanitation, cooking, and living conveniences, and the lean-to would give him added room.  The additional shed beyond the trailer allowed for storage of tools and equipment that Winscott didnt care to keep in his front room.  It would also give him room to grow a few indoor plants while protecting them from the harsh winter weather.
Lane stopped the truck with the headlights pointing toward the front door of the lean-to.  He shut off the engine but left the lights on.  As he opened the door he cautioned Bromley not to walk around behind the trailer, there could be evidence that must not be disturbed.
Lane sidestepped a redwood picnic table with two mismatched benches and approached the picture window cautiously.  He peered inside where a florescent shop light flooded the single room with cold, white light.
It was just as Bromley had said.  There was blood everywhere.  On the walls, the ceiling, the floor.  It had pooled heavily where the body lay face down with something sharp protruding from the back.  Lane looked more closely and saw that a stool had been over turned in front of a kitchen table.  Evidently Winscott had been sitting on the table when he died, probably falling upon the broken stool.  The room was a shambles.  Winscott had been sitting on the table when someone had used a chain saw to cut off both legs above the knee.  The mutilated legs were lying on the floor immediately in front of the table.
Then Winscott had sat there, bleeding to death.  The chain saw, with its grisly looking teeth lay on the floor not far from the severed legs.  When the man had lost consciousness, his body had either toppled or been pushed forward, impaling him through the chest on one broken and jagged leg of the upturned stool.
Lane had been too young for Viet Nam.  He had joined the Army in 81 and spent the better part of three years as a military policeman assigned to the 82d Airborne Division at Fort Bragg, NC.  Frequently, in the barracks or over a beer at the division NCO club hed listened to the veterans talk about firefights and ambushes along jungle trails or in small, outlying villages.  A bullet to the head or torso was spotlessly neat compared to the carnage Lane saw through the front window of Winscotts lean-to.  The sight of dismembered bodies blasted apart by shrapnel wasnt as gruesome as the one he saw now.
See?  I tol you how it was, sheriff.  Somebody took Larrys chain saw and cut his legs off.  Then they pushed the body over and it landed on the broken leg of that stool.  Rotten bastards!  Ol Larry was a harmless coot who just liked to yarn away the hours, drink a little bourbon with a beer chaser and toot on his weed now and then.  Why would somebody do this to him sheriff?
I dunno, Ed.  Now you wait out here while I go inside.  Dont go wanderin around messin up my crime scene.  You hear?
Yessir, sheriff.  Ill stay right here.
Lane found that the front door was unlocked.  He opened the screen and held it while he pushed the inner door open just enough to stick his head in.  The stench was oppressing.  The same smell of death hed become sickeningly familiar with at the scene of gang shoot-outs in Long Beach and Los Angeles.
You read about the smell of death in crime novels and adventure stories, but until youve drawn it deep down into your lungs, you never really understand what people are talking about.  And you never, ever, forget it.  When the human animal dies, the bowels and bladder, controlled by the voluntary nervous system, let loose.  It makes no difference whether you are a doctor or lawyer in a fifteen hundred dollar suit, or a skid row junky dressed in rags.  You end up lying in pools of your own urine and feces, and, if the wounds are particularly traumatic, blood too.  Only a short time later the disgusting stench permeates everything nearby.  The nauseating stench never failed to call up unpleasant memories of dying and wounded friends hed heard about in muddy battle-fields half a world away.
Winscott, he decided, hadnt been much of a housekeeper.  Even before the drunken frenzy, or altercation if someone else had been here, the house hadnt been very neat.  At the farthest end of the lean-to, a sofa was pushed up against the wall with an end table and reading lamp at one side.  There was a nearly empty tray from a half eaten TV dinner, three or four empty beer cans and an open bottle of whiskey lay spilled on the floor.  A pillow and blanket lay casually tossed on the sofa.  Evidently Winscott had slept there on occasion.
A TV remote lay on the floor.  A kitchen table with Formica top was pushed against the side of the little trailer.  The TV had sat on top of the table where it was within easy view from the sofa.  Now it lay on the floor between the sofa and table.  Shards of the picture tube glistened under the harsh light, tiny pieces of glass twinkling like multi-faceted gems.
To Lanes right, the room had been stacked with odds and ends, stuff that Winscott hadnt wanted to leave out in the weather.  A coffee table was piled high with books and magazines heaped upon it in no particular order.  More books and magazines lay on the floor where they had been tossed, or perhaps fallen from the pile on the table.  A bicycle with the front tire flat leaned against the wall behind the door.  Two or three greasy and rusting electric motors, an oscillating fan covered with dust, cobwebs, and caked on grime were scattered in disarray.
Above the coffee table a rifle rack held a pump shotgun with a fishing pole in the rack below it.  Lane wondered where a man might go fishing around here?  Perhaps the pole was kept purely for sentimental reasons?
The place seemed unusually quiet to Lane.  Something made the hackles on the back of his neck stand up.  There was an eerie, disquieting feeling in the room that he couldnt account for.  It was spooky and terrifyingly unnerving.
He thought he could feel, rather than hear, vibrations of something pulsing through the rough laid wooden floor.  Drums? Boom-boom-boom-boompity-boom-boom-boom-boompity!  That was ridiculous!  He pushed the thought away from him.
Avoiding blood spatters and broken glass, Lane decided to have a look inside the trailer.  He stepped into the lean-two and was across the room in two strides.  Several concrete blocks had been stacked side by side and covered with a woven rope doormat to make a step up to the door of the little trailer.  Lane poked his head in.  Something was irritating his subconscious.  Some danger-signal that he couldnt quite put his finger on.  A danger-signal he had felt many times before as he entered darkened alleys or warehouses.  A danger-signal hed been trained to recognize but not to fear.
He looked left and right as he stuck his head in the trailer.  He wouldnt have been surprised to discover another body, or worse, some strange demon with claws and fangs, perhaps dripping with gore.  There was something in the air that filled him with a sense of foreboding.  It was some primal feeling of danger that filled him with dread.  He was tempted to pull the 9mm from his holster, but he resisted the impulse.  He was a grown man and he wasnt frightened of any bogeyman.
From the doorway he saw a workbench built of rough two-by-fours at the front of the trailer.  There were several blocks of wood on it and several finished or half finished animal figures.  A brace of wooden ducks hung suspended from wires attached to the ceiling.  A deer paused in mid-stride on the workbench.  A raccoon stood on hind-quarters.  A coyote sat beside a carved cactus and raised his open mouth to the sky.  Winscott must have passed much of his time carving the wooden figures.  Simple as they were, there was an element of beauty in the polished grain of raw wood.
Across from the door the counter top and sink were piled with dirty dishes.  An empty box for a frozen pizza was sticking out of the wastebasket.  Lane couldnt tell if the dishes and trash were days old or recently used.  Perhaps the crime scene unit would lift some prints from them.
An unwashed frying pan sat on the stovetop with grease and something that might have been scrambled eggs dried on the surface.  A single dirty sock lay on the floor in the middle of a hall leading to what must have been a bathroom with a bedroom beyond.  He went down the short hall, checking to make sure the rest of the trailer was empty.
Boom-boom-boom-boompity-boom-boom-boom-boompity!
Lane still could not shake the feeling of dread which set his teeth on edge.  The impulse to pull out the Browning and blow away anything he laid his eyes upon entered his mind once more.  Again he stifled the impulse.  It was irrational for a grown man to be so afraid, but he was genuinely frightened nonetheless.
There might have been someone here with Winscott earlier.  Winscott could have been tortured and murdered, but he could also have been alone.  He could have been high on booze and pot and just sawed his own legs off and fallen on the jagged leg of the stool.  Delirium tremens can do strange things to a man or woman.  Lane had no knowledge of the mans history or background, and it was too dark to conduct much of an investigation tonight.  Lane mentally berated himself for pulling the dumb rookie trick of neglecting to bring a flashlight to aid in his inspection.  He would have to secure the crime scene, notify headquarters and arrange for a crime scene unit to investigate in the morning.  That meant spending the night with the dead body and leaving Tutu alone in the new house tonight.  Neither thought cheered him.  
Picking his way across the debris littering the floor, he closed the door as he went outside and spoke to Ed Bromley.  Howd you get over here tonight, Mr. Bromley?
Well, I walked, naturally.  I just live across the road and up about half a mile.  Cant afford no car and insurance on social security, you know.  Many an evening I walk down here and shoot the shit with Larry.  Talk about the good ol days, afore the publicans screwed the country again.
Lane was by nature a conservative and usually voted Republican unless the Democrats had a really promising candidate.  He always tried to vote for the best man for the job, no matter which party the candidate was affiliated with, but he agreed more often than not with the views of the Republican candidate.  Still, this was no time for political arguments.	
Howd you get to town when you left here?
Walked again.  Junior Swiegert gave me a ride the last mile othe way.  Hes kind a sweet on the Tyson girl, you know.  Drops in for a milk shake whenever he has a buck in his pocket and Big Tomll let him drive the pickup.
Well, it looks as though Im going to have to stay the night here and secure the crime scene until the sheriffs office can get some people down here in the morning.  Lane looked around and decided that he would sleep in the truck when he got back.  No way was he going back into that blood stained crime scene tonight, and it didn't look as though the small shed out back would offer much of a place to spend the night.  But Ill have to head back to my place for a few minutes and get my sleeping bag and a thermos of coffee.  You want I should drop you off at your place?
Bromley smiled.  Why, thatd be right neighborly of you sheriff.  Id really appreciate it, you know?  Lane drove Bromley away with the pounding of Indian drums still echoing in the furthest recesses of his mind.  Try as he might, he couldnt put the sounds out of his thoughts.
After dropping Bromley off, Lane stopped at the coffee shop to tell Ruthie she could close up and go on home.  Hed handle the situation now.
Was it really messy Mr. Mauler?  Ed said that there was blood all over the walls and ceiling.
It wasnt pretty, Ruthie.  But its not something you need to go spreading all over town either.  The sheriffs department will handle the investigation and you and everyone else can read about it in the paper.  He wasnt trying to be curt with the young girl, but he neither wanted nor needed a few dozen curiosity seekers or souvenir hunters descending on the Winscott place.
Pulling up in front of his place, Lane killed the engine and thought over what hed say to his daughter.  He knew she wouldnt think well of being left alone before they had even begun moving into the new house, but he couldnt see any way to avoid it.  It was his duty to secure the crime scene until it could be thoroughly investigated.  That was his job and well she knew it.  Maybe he could make it up to her during the coming weeks.  He got out of the car and went up the walk.
He could see Cheryl Ann peering from behind the curtain on the front door before he started up the steps.  The porch light went on and she opened the door for him.
Daddy, youve got that I dont want to do this look on your face again.  Are you going back out?  She remembered the long nights hed been away from home too well.
Cant be helped, Tutu. Im the only law in town, you know.  I cant just call up the squad room and see if someone else can pull the duty.
The girl stood aside and let him enter.  Ill put the coffee pot on.  Youll need a thermos again.  Then she smiled at him and encircled his waist with her arm while she dragged him into the house.  Ill make out all right, and Ill be safe cause I know youll be out there keeping the neighborhood safe and free from perverts.
Honey, you know there arent any perverts in Valley Forks.  He knuckled her scalp as they went through the living room and back into the kitchen.
I was just kidding, she said.  How can there be perverts when theres hardly any people?
In the kitchen Tutu filled a pan with tap water and put it on the stove to heat.  Sorry, but itll have to be instant.  The coffee maker is packed who knows where in the U-Haul, and Im not even sure if theres any drip coffee or where the filter papers are.  I did find a jar of instant with some of the groceries we salvaged from the cupboards of our apartment.  Do you know where your thermos is?
Lane kissed her forehead.  Where it always is, behind the seat in the pickup. Run get it for me, will you?  Ive got to call the sheriffs office in Tonopah and arrange to get a crime scene unit out here first thing in the morning.  As Tutu ran out the front door Lane went to the office and picked up the phone.  He was just hanging up when she came back in.
You know, dad, Im going to want you to take me out for a really fantastic dinner in Vegas to make up for leaving me alone our first night in a strange town.  Maybe even a show too!
Its a deal, he said, glad that she had made things so easy for him.  Say, in those boxes we put up stairs, did you see my sleeping bag?
Uh-huh.  Its on the shelf in your closet.  She turned the heat down under the pan of water so it wouldnt boil too quickly.  After rinsing out his thermos, she found the jar of instant in a cupboard above the counter and put four full teaspoons of crystals into the stainless jug.
While Tutu was waiting for the water to heat, Lane went up to his room and donned a sweater.  He pulled his parka from the closet and tossed it on the bed.  He rummaged through the several boxes Tutu had deposited on the floor while he was at Winscotts until he found his thirty-five millimeter camera.  The indicator showed fifteen exposures left on the roll so Lane checked the LED on the flash attachment to make sure the flash would work.  Satisfied, he put the camera in the pocket of his parka.
By the time Lane returned to the kitchen Tutu was putting the top on his thermos.  This wont keep you awake, you know.  Its decaf.
Fine by me.  Im going to crawl in the back seat of the cab, pull my sleeping bag up around my ears and sleep until the sun comes up.  NCSO said theyd have someone out here first thing, but even if they leave Tonopah at first light, itll still be a two hour drive.
He tucked the thermos under his arm and picked up the sleeping bag and parka.  Tutu followed him as far as the front door.
Now you remember to keep all the doors and windows locked.  Youve got my cell phone number, right?
The girl nodded.  Sure thing, dad.  You can call me if you get lonely.
Yeah, right, kid.  Wheres your gun?  Since firearms were required in his work, Lane had decided when Tutu was still a young girl that the best policy was to teach every member of his family to handle a handgun with respect.  His wife hadnt carried one in the car with her when she died, and might not have been able to use it in time even if she had.  Still, Lane had bought a .38 caliber revolver for his daughter and taken her out to the target range to make sure she was proficient with it.  His reasoning was that a lawyers bill would be cheaper than a doctors bill if his daughter ever found herself in a situation where using her gun was necessary.  The pistol was always kept in her room and always kept loaded.  Lane had reminded her that people are usually hurt or killed with empty guns rather than loaded ones, so always keep it loaded and always handle it with care.
Upstairs in my room where I expect to be all night.  Listening to the radio since you havent set up the satellite dish yet.
Sorry, Tutu.  Ill get on it tomorrow.  If I get home at a decent hour.
Call me in the morning, okay?
Of course.  I dont want you shooting me if I get home unexpectedly.  He planted a kiss on her forehead and left.


Chapter 2

When Lane arrived back at Winscotts place, he checked first to make sure the body was still there and that the area had not been disturbed.  He noticed power lines running from the trailer to the shed in back so he left his flashlight in the truck as he went out back to check out the shed.  Inside, just to the right of the door, he felt a light switch and turned it on.
Bromley hadnt been lying when hed said that Winscott grew only a few plants.  Lane counted six five-gallon size terra cotta planters sitting on two by six planks, which lay across cinder blocks to keep them off the floor.  The plants were set in two rows of three with a pair of florescent Grow lights suspended by chains just above them.  The Grow lights were on a separate circuit from the door switch and weren't turned on just now.  Presumably there was still sufficient daylight during the day to nurture the plants at this time of the year.  Later, during shorter winter days, the Grow lights would be necessary to keep the plants healthy.
Winscott sure hadnt been supplementing his income with the small amount of weed he was growing here.  If he were a heavy user, he wouldnt have enough here to keep himself stoned.  He either didnt toot often or not heavily when he did.
Lane left the shed and went back to his truck.  The digital clock on the dash said seven-fifteen.  He decided it was going to be a long night.  Turning on the radio he found an all news station out of Vegas.  He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a seat at Winscotts picnic table in the front yard.
The night was quiet as the inside of a cave.  Not a sound except the occasional passing vehicle on the highway two hundred yards away.  Even though it was quieter than a cemetery, and even though he knew well what sort of a gruesome mess lay just a few yards away, Lane didnt feel the overwhelming sense of dread hed felt earlier in the evening.
All though hed quit smoking nearly fifteen years ago, he wished he could just lean back against the table and suck on a cigarette.  He still had the occasional desire for a butt, but hed learned how to beat it.  Instead of telling himself, I havent had a smoke in year; just one cant hurt, he told himself, Ive beaten the weed for 15 years and I can go on beating it!  He found that accentuating the positive made it easier to get rid of the craving which still nagged at him occasionally.  If hed have thought to bring a book with him, he could have moved the table over near the trailer where the florescent lighting was shining brightly through the front window.
He listened with half an ear tuned to the radio.  The Angels were bound to finish in the cellar this year.  The Jazz were headed to Liverpool to play an exhibition game in Europe.  Maybe the NBA could stir up some interest across the pond?  They sure could use the added revenue after the recent league lockout.
A priest in Denver was in court charged with multiple sexual assaults against young boys over a period of several years.  In Michigan the parents of a five-year-old girl missing for six days had broadcast a plea for her safe return.  Lane figured she might be returned in time for the Second Coming of Christ.  When he got up to pour another cup of coffee he was surprised to find it was a quarter til nine.
After pouring another coffee he decided to call his daughter.  He rummaged through his pockets until he found the scrap of paper with his home phone number on it and punched that into the cell phone.
Deputy Maulers residence, she answered.
My, arent we the efficient little secretary tonight?
Daaadeeee!  Oh, Im so glad to hear your voice.
Got the willies being home alone, Tutu?
Well, honestly, just a little.  But Ive been keeping busy bringing things in from the truck, and Ive tried to put the boxes in the room where theyll be used most.  Hows things with you?
Percolatin right along, hon.   Im just down the road about five or six miles, so if you need me I can be home quickly.  Did you fix yourself something to eat?
Nanh, I really havent been hungry.  I may heat up a can of soup later if I feel that Ive just got to have a snack.  Are you doing okay?
I should have brought a cross word magazine.  It looks to be a long night.  Hope the crime scene unit gets here early, but Im not going to be holding my breath.  Theyve got a fair drive to make in the morning.
You want me to call you later just so we can talk a bit?
As much as I like gabbing with you, Tutu, at thirty cents a minute air time I think Ill pass.  Ill continue to be charged roaming costs until I set up an account with a local company, but dont let that keep you from calling me if anything important comes up.  Right?
Sure thing, dad.  Ill say good night then and let you get on with whatever it is you have to do.  I love you.
But I love you more cause Im bigger.
Right, dad.  See ya.
She hung up and Lane pushed end and put the cell phone back in the cradle.  A number one girl that kid.  She would make some lucky boy an excellent wife.   In maybe twenty or thirty years if Lane had anything to say in the matter.
It was shortly after nine when Lane finished his phone call.  The moon was in three-quarter phase and provided sufficient light that he felt inclined to take a walk around the property, making sure to stay at least fifty yards from the crime scene so as not to disturb any evidence he might have overlooked so far.  He took his flashlight from the center console just in case.
Lane headed away from the property toward his left.  When he judged he was about fifty yards from the trailer he cut back to his right and began a clockwise circuit of the area.  The night was still quiet but he no longer felt that oppressing sense of unease that had disturbed him so much earlier in the evening.  He hadnt found anything to make note of until he got back to his truck when he noted it was ten oclock.
He spread his sleeping bag out in the rear seat of the cab and climbed in on top of it.  The weather this August night was fairly warm, in spite of the altitude and he decided if the mosquitoes would leave him alone hed sleep on top of the bag and use his parka for a pillow.  As he tucked it behind his head and lay down he felt something jabbing the side of his skull.  He sat up and fished out the camera hed stuck in his pocket before leaving home then laid back down.  Satisfied that he could get comfortable in this position he reached up and clicked off the manual switch for the dome light.  Remembering just in time he reached up into the front seat and turned off the radio.  No sense waking up to a dead battery in the morning.
Sleep came easy but it wasnt long before he felt himself being chased by an unseen creature and was again filled with a sense of terror and dread.  He was running through the wind blasted pines in near pitch darkness, bumping into trees he couldnt feel with his outstretched hands, tripping over tangled underbrush and slipping on matted pine needles.  No matter how fast he stumbled through the night he could hear the creatures labored breathing as it closed the distance between them.  Hey-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh! Hey-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!
The creatures clawed feet pounded the ground as he ran. Boom-boom-boom-boompity-boom-boom-boom-boompity!
Every so often Lane would risk a glance behind him but he could see nothing more than two huge, evil red eyes.  The creatures breath was heavy and rasping and Lane could almost feel that hot breath on his neck, almost smell the foul, fetid odor of rancid flesh caught between the creatures pointed teeth.  It swiped at Lanes back with a massively clawed paw but missed.  It swung again and still it missed.  It swung a third time and this time Lane felt a searing pain low down in his back.  He doubled over with the pain and missed his footing falling to the rocky ground where he struck his head on a nearby tree. Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Boom-boom-boom-boompity!
Lane sat up holding his head.  The creature was nowhere to be seen.  He found himself on the floor of the truck, wedged between the drivers seat and the rear seat.  Hed fallen and smacked his head on the doorpost.  The pain hed felt was his bladder begging to be relieved of used coffee.
Lane crawled out of the pickup and walked a few yards down hill toward the highway.  He found a tree with a low bush growing beside it and relieved himself.
When he crawled into the back seat again he found it was eleven forty-five.  The air had turned chillier as the night passed so he threw his parka over his torso and burrowed deep into its warmth.  The next thing he knew a shaft of sunlight struck him in the face and he awoke with a sneeze.  Sitting up he looked at the clock and found it was five-fifty.  It would still be several hours before anyone arrived from the sheriffs office in Tonopah.
Lane unlimbered his aching legs and stood outside the truck.  His breath made vaporous white puffs in front of his face as he exhaled.  Even in August, it could get chilly at this altitude.  Lane forced himself to walk down to the highway and back to work the kinks out of his muscles.  As he came back up the hill he walked around behind Winscotts trailer to the greenhouse where he found a faucet from the gravity feed tank on the roof.  He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, wet it and used it to wash the sleep from his eyes.  When he felt awake he turned the water off and walked back to his truck.  He spread the handkerchief over the back of the passengers seat to dry and poured another cup of coffee, emptying the thermos.  It was only lukewarm, but it was better than nothing.  On a hunch he opened the glove compartment and, to his surprise, found half a granola bar in a plastic baggie.  Probably, a left over from the last time he and Tutu had been camping.  It was a welcome treat nonetheless.
He switched the radio on again but the news was just a rehash of the same old tripe from last night.  He switched it off.  It suddenly occurred to him that anyone arriving from Tonopah would not have Ed Bromley sitting beside them to furnish directions.  Lane rolled up his sleeping bag, tied it, and left it on the floor behind the drivers seat.  He got in and started the engine, let it warm for a few minutes, then drove down to the highway where his truck was sure to be spotted.  He left room for other vehicles to pull off onto the narrow access road and killed the engine.
It was seven-ten.
At seven-forty the first blue and white arrived.  A short, bull-necked man with crew cut hair and civilian clothes got out and walked over to him.  Mauler? he asked.
Thats me, Lane answered.
Nice to meet you.  The man stuck out his hand.  Lane grasped it while the man continued, Sorry we havent met before, but either Im down in Pahrump or the sheriff is.  Names Noah Denton.  Under-Sheriff for Nye County.
Guess that makes you my boss, Sheriff.  Or one of them.
Dont let it bother you, Mauler.  The sheriff and I have a working arrangement.  He tends to all the politics and gets his name and picture in the paper and stays out of my way while I take care of business.  His job is mostly politicking, making sure the county commissioners dont cut our budget, but the work still has to get done.  Thats what hes got me for.  Ive read your resume on the application you mailed in.  I recommended to the sheriff that we hire you.  
Nye County is the second largest county in the country, you know.  Fact is, the size of this county is more than Connecticut, Delaware, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts combined.  Of course, those states have a total population of more than ten million people, so they take in a lot more tax dollars than we do with a population of less than fifty thousand.  So here and there we requisition a house from the delinquent tax rolls, and use it for a substation, sort of.  It allows us to keep the widest visibility in the county, at the least expense.  You see what Im talking about?
Sure.  Sounds like a good idea being as how youve got so much ground to cover.
Right as rain about that, Mauler.  Course, well have a rover or two in your bailiwick when needed.  Got to keep the overtime down, you know.  You wont have any set hours, or any set patrol.  But youve got a lot of square miles where you will be the law.  Understand me?
No question about that, sir.  When will I get a county vehicle?
Itll be pulling in shortly.  Im having one of the deputys drive it down and hell ride back with me.  Saves you a trip into Tonopah.  Not that we dont want to see you around the head shed, you know.  We have a policy meeting on the second and fourth Wednesday of each month.  Youll be required to attend that, if at all possible, and youll find that kind of works out as the right time for a lube and oil change on your unit.
Second and fourth Wednesday.  Any time?
Zero eight-thirty.  Denton felt the pockets of his suit jacket finally coming up with a badge.  Almost forgot this.  Put up your right hand, Mauler.  Lane did so.  Good.  Youre sworn.  Pardon my red tape cutting procedures, but I know you understand what the job is.  First policy meeting you get into town for, well have a photographer and the sheriff will do it formally and all that rot.  For now, youve got the badge and youve got the job.  You play football, Mauler?
No sir.  Never went in for sports in college, or high school for that matter.  High school I went to had ROTC.  If you took ROTC you didnt have to take phys-ed.  Since I wanted to go into the Army I took ROTC.  When I got out after three years, I went to junior college and got an associate degree in police science while I was signed up on the police reserve.  When I got my degree the department hired me full time and its been like that until I moved here.
Oh, I wasnt being nosy.  Just wondered if that was how you got your nickname, Mauler.
Its not a nickname.  When my great-great granddad came over from Germany he got off the boat at Ellis Island, same as several million other immigrants.  The immigration man asked granddad his name and Mahler was the reply.  Evidently, the immigration man didnt know much about music or composers, but he did know about bar brawls, so great granddads name was put down on his papers as Mauler.
No foolin?  Who would a thought that?
A Chevy Blazer painted blue and white with the county seal on the door pulled off the road.  The driver rolled down his window.  This the place Noah?
Sure thing, Harvey.  Pull on up the road where the trailer is.  Dont be drivin over no evidence.  We got to wait a little while more until Doc Conried gets here before we can do much.  The Blazer pulled on up to the trailer and stopped.  Denton said to Lane, Doc Conried works Monday, Tuesday, Friday and Saturday on the road from Amargosa up to Valley Forks.  Making sure the elderly have got their prescriptions and occasionally setting a broken bone or administering a flu shot during the season.  On Wednesday and Thursday, or most any other time, the Docs on call in Tonopah.  Ahh, here comes the Doc now, he said as a beige car with the county seal and Rural Medical Health Service printed on the side pulled to a stop.
The driver got out and walked over to shake hands with Denton.  Morning, sheriff.  Nice day for a drive.
Lane hoped his chin hadnt dropped to the ground.  The doctor was about five-two and a hundred and five pounds.  Maybe more when she stepped out of a shower and was still dripping wet.  Lane pegged her age somewhere around thirty, give or take a few years, but he could be generous when giving.  If he hadnt known that she had several years of college and medical school under her belt, plus required residency, he would have pegged her at twenty-five or so.  She had chestnut hair and a well-tanned complexion.  Her teeth were even and gleaming.  She looked at Lane.  And you are?
Deputy Lane Mauler, maam.  He stuck out his hand.
She took it easily and said, Im Connie Conried, or just Connie or Doc if you like.  Im pleased to meet you deputy.  Do you mind if I call you Lane?  Were pretty informal out here in the boonies.
Lane would have smiled like a collie pup if she called him Shit For Brains.  No, maam.  Lanes just fine by me.  In the back of his mind he could hear Annes voice telling him, Quit thinking with your gonads, Lane.  Behave yourself and you might get to know this lady better.
Okay, Lane.  How about showing me this body you reported?
Yes, maam.  Its just up the track here.  Its about two hundred yards, you want to bring your car?
You bet I do.  Ive got my evidence kit and a body bag in the back, plus a few other things I find handy now and then.  I dont feel lugging that stuff up the hill.  Noah, she said to the Under-Sheriff, why dont you and Lane ride up in my car?  That way you can leave yours down here on the highway so the meat wagon will know where to turn when they get here.
The Under-Sheriff quickly agreed.  He and the doctor got in the front seat of her car while Lane got in the back.  Connie put the car in gear and they drove up the hill.
The other deputy had strung yellow crime scene tape around the trailer and was snapping pictures inside with a thirty-five millimeter.  He was in a short-sleeve khaki uniform with a nametag that read Buckhorn.  
You already photograph the inside, Harvey? Denton asked.
Yeah, Noah.  Got half a roll in there.  Wasnt nothing in particular to shoot except the body, so I just photographed the general layout.
Right.  If youre finished we can let the doc in.
Well, Im done in the living room, if you can call it that.  Anyway, Im done with the body and Im starting on the trailer from the outside.  You can tell Doc to take it away.
Denton turned to the attractive young lady.  Its all yours, Doc.
Thank you too much, Sheriff.    
Connie pulled rubber surgical gloves from her pocket, put them on and then knelt down and began examining the body.  Winscott was fully dressed though the stumps of his legs poked out from where the chain saw had ripped through his denim Levis.  He wore a short-sleeved flannel shirt with a red plaid design.  Connie checked for trauma wounds other than the obvious but found none, then inserted a rectal thermometer to estimate the time of death from the body temperature.  That done, she stood up and removed her rubber gloves.
Yep!  Hes dead all right.  She chuckled and winked at Lane.  Dont mind me, deputy.  A little humor helps to brighten up a morbid day sometimes.  Id say time of death was around 4:00 p.m. yesterday afternoon.  Perhaps I can give you a better answer after I can examine the stomach contents.  You suppose he was on drugs?
I found a couple marijuana plants growing in the shed out back, Lane said.  From the debris scattered around the floor, its obvious he had been drinking too.  Could he have just wigged out with the DTs and done this to himself?
I dont know, she said.  Maybe Ill be able to answer your question after I do the autopsy.  Well scan the blood for toxins and see what comes up, its normal procedure anyway in a case like this.
I dont see any obvious sign of company, Denton said.  Anybody been around here that you know of, Mauler?
Just Ed Bromley, who reported the body.  He was here yesterday afternoon and again last night when he rode with me to give directions.  Said he never came inside after he saw the body through the window.  He didnt seem to think anyone else had been around.
Then I guess we can rule out foul play.  Looks like Winscott just got high, cut his own legs off, and bled to death.  He was sitting on that table and when he passed out the body fell to the floor impaling itself on that broken chair leg.
Thats kind of the way I figured it, sheriff.  But what would make a man want to take a chain saw to his own legs?
Beats me, Denton said.  But who knows what he was imagining if he was hallucinating?
An ambulance pulled into the front yard and turned around so it could back up to the front door.  Two EMS technicians got out.  One opened the back of the vehicle while the other walked to the front door and stuck his head in.
Mornin sheriff, he said to Denton.  He nodded at the doctor.  Doc.  I was going to ask if this was the place, but I see by the blood that I dont need to ask.  His eyes roamed the messy interior of the lean-to.  Lord!  What a mess!  You done with the body, doc?
Yes, Rick.  Bag it and drop it off at the office, will you?  There doesnt seem to be much else for me to do around here.  Unless you need me for anything more, Noah, Ill head back so I can begin the paperwork and the autopsy.
You go ahead, doc.  Ill stay here with Harvey and complete the forensics.
See you, then, she said.  She turned to Lane.  Anything more you need, deputy?
Just a time of death, maam, if you come up with a better estimate.  For the report, you know?
Sure.  Ill give you a call.  You using Fosters telephone number?
Yes, maam.
Okay.  Ill probably have something for you by tomorrow.  Ill talk to you then.  Call me if you think of anything else.  She gave him a county business card with her office number as well as her fax and cell phone.
As she left she said over her shoulder to Denton, Ill make the call to TECBAD as soon as I get back.  Then she was out the door and the two EMS guys came in and removed the body, not forgetting the blood-smeared stumps of his legs.
What was that about tech something or other? Lane asked Noah Denton.
Lets go out for some fresh air, Mauler, Denton said.  Outside he lit up a small, wooden tipped cigar.  TECBAD-U is a government thing south of here.  They keep an eye on strange and unusual diseases or other occurrences that could threaten human, animal, or plant life.  You might think of them as part of the Department of Agriculture, or Department of Health, but mostly you shouldnt think about them.  Everything they do is ultra-secret, burn-before-reading kind of stuff.  Anything unusual that you can think about?
Bout the only thing that comes to mind is a vehicle.  The shed out back has a large water tank on top.  Its beefed up to support the weight.  But theres no well on the property, and no stream nearby, so Winscott must have had to haul his water in.  That would take a vehicle, but there isnt one anywhere around.  I can ask around in town and find out where he got his water, but it might answer some questions if youd check DMV and see if anything was registered to him.  If he owned a vehicle, where is it now?
Yeah.  Ill call you if I find out anything.  He pointed at Lane with the stub of his cigar.  Look, youve put in some long hours already.  Why dont you head for home?  At least you can grab some breakfast and maybe take a nap.  Buckhorn and I will be here for another couple of hours checking for prints or anything else we can find.  You can drive your truck home and Ill drop by with the Blazer when were done.  And thanks for keeping the scene secure last night.  Hell of a way to welcome you to Valley Forks.
Yeah, sure.  Okay, sheriff.  You drop by later and Ill make sure the coffee is hot.  He made a mental note to go through the U-haul and find the coffee maker and some ground coffee.  Maybe he should stop at Arts Exxon to pick some up?
Lane walked down the rutted track and climbed behind the wheel of his pickup.  He used the cell phone to call Tutu.  Youre awake early, he said.
I was up at the crack of dawn.  Had some eggs and some toast.  Say, would you stop at the store and pick up some bacon and some potatoes?  Ill need them to fix you some breakfast.  But I havent got a clue as to what else I can fix today.  Soup for lunch?  Dinner at the diner again?
Well, at least youre thinking, Tutu.  Did you find the coffee?
Yeah, dad.  A two-pound can half-full.  But we dont have any cream or sugar.  I know you dont use it, but Id like some.  Can you pick up some juice and soft drinks too?
Sure thing, Hon. Maybe you better start making a list and Ill drive you into Tonopah tomorrow.  Look, Im about finished out here and on my way home.  Ill stop at the Exxon and pick up a few things and see you in about half an hour.  Well probably have company in a few hours.  My boss will be here for a while.  Hell stop by the house later and drop off a county vehicle for me.  I told him wed have coffee ready.
Then make sure you get some cream and sugar in case he uses them.  Okay?
Yes, boss.  See you soon.
Bye, dad.
Lane punched the disconnect button and cranked the engine.  When he got to Arts Exxon it was nearly nine-thirty.  Doc Conrieds beige county car was parked out front.  Ruthie was behind the cash register again and he tossed a good morning in her direction.  She flashed him a smile.  Connie was seated at a booth with a three-ring binder and a cup of coffee on the table in front of her.  She caught his eye.
Nice seeing you again, deputy.  Want to join me for a cup of coffee?
Id love to, doc, but Ive got a fifteen year old daughter at home and I need to pick up a few groceries for breakfast.  Were just moving in, you know.
Yes, I think Noah did mention that.  Well then, I wont keep you.  Say hello to your daughter and Mrs. Mauler for me, wont you?
Lanes face clouded, though he tried not to show it.  Im a widower, he said.  My wife died nearly two years ago.  But Cheryl Ann and I make out all right.  Still, we just pulled into town yesterday, and about the only thing we have in the fridge is a couple eggs and about a third of a loaf of bread.  That and a little coffee doesnt make a very good breakfast for a teen age girl.
I agree with you there, Lane.  You do your shopping and get home to your daughter.  Ill call you when I have any more information on Winscott.
Thanks, Id appreciate that.  He tossed her half a smile and waved as he turned to search for his groceries.
Although Art didnt provide shopping carts for his customers, he did have shopping baskets.  Lane slung one over his arm and set about his shopping.
The first thing he grabbed was a jar of powdered creamer, and a two-pound box of sugar.  From the cold storage area at the back of the store he took half a dozen potatoes, a dozen eggs, and a one-pound package of something the manufacturer swore was a light ham.  He also stuck a half-gallon of milk in his basket along with a half-gallon of orange juice.   In the frozen section he added a can of concentrated apple juice and one of grapefruit juice to his plunder.  Having second thoughts he went back to cold storage and picked out a package of assorted luncheon meats.  Next he added a squeeze bottle of mustard for himself and a small jar of mayonnaise for Tutu.  Satisfied that he had provided his daughter and himself with the minimum requirements for a day or two, he took his shopping basket to the cash register to pay.  Connie, he noticed, had already finished her coffee and left the diner.
Find everything you need, deputy, Ruth asked him.  How about a loaf of bread to go with this lunch meat?
Lane snapped his fingers.  Gosh, youre right.  Be right back.  In less than a minute he set a loaf of whole wheat bread down with the rest of his items.  Thanks for reminding me, Ruthie.  I guess that about does it.
She rang the items and Lane opened his wallet and paid her.  The amount of cash he had left reminded him that he needed to drive into Tonopah and find an ATM machine.  He should probably open up an account with a local bank also.  When Ruth had finished bagging his groceries he went out to his truck and was home only a few moments later.
He held the screen door open with his boot while he opened the inside door and carried the groceries into the kitchen.  He set them down on the counter and went into the office where he unbuckled his gun belt and hooked it over the back of a chair.  Tutu was just coming down the stairs.
Home is the hunter, she called out to him as she passed into the kitchen.  I hope you didnt get anything in cans, I havent been able to find a can opener and Ive got all but the heaviest items unloaded.
Just a couple cans of frozen juice.  But Ive got a gizmo on my pocketknife that will open those when you need them.  Have you started a list yet?  Better add a can opener or well starve for sure.  He was only kidding.  Lane was an excellent cook, having lived on his own for several years before he met and married his wife.  Anne had also been an excellent cook though Lane personally thought most of the dishes she prepared were a little mild.  A bottle of Tabasco remedied that shortcoming.  Cheryl Ann was turning out to be a good cook and her taste was more like her dads.  Well seasoned was the way to describe the cuisine in the Mauler household.
Tutu stuck her head into his office.  You need a shave, dad.  When you get back downstairs breakfast will be on the table.  Toast and eggs suit you?  With some fried potatoes on the side?
I can hardly wait, he told her.  Ill be back in a few moments.
In the upstairs bath he found Tutu hadnt been kidding when she said shed brought in all but the heaviest items.  Towels and washcloths were hung on the rack screwed to the wall.  The medicine cabinet had been stocked with prescriptions as well as the over the counter remedies which had been in their bathroom in Long Beach.  Toothbrushes stood in a holder on the sink next to the water pik.  His electric razor had found a new home on a shelf just below the mirror above the sink.  On the back of the john sat a box of facial tissues and a couple of the teen magazines Tutu always used for reference when trying out fresh makeup styles.  A pretty pink fabric covered the toilet tank and seat.
Got to hand it to that girl, Lane muttered to himself.  She wont have to go far to make a good wife for some lucky boy.  He just wished that she could spend more time as a teen-ager instead of taking on so many of the homemaking chores at such an early age.  He quit grousing and plugged in his razor.  Several minutes later he was satisfied that he was no longer attractive to lady porcupines so he stripped off his shirt and pants, tossing them into the laundry basket, and stepped into the shower.
At first the water was icy cold and set his teeth on edge.  Soon, however, the hot water made its way from the tank below and Lane discovered that he was slowly being parboiled.  He adjusted the water to a comfortable temperature then indulged himself in the brisk spray of water and began to shampoo his hair.
Fifteen minutes later he was dry, his teeth were clean, and he had put on fresh Levis, a t-shirt and soft suede hiking shoes.  When he went down stairs he took his new badge and tossed it on the desk in his office.
Thanks for the OJ, Tutu said as he sat down at the kitchen table.  She slid a plate in front of him along with a fresh brewed cup of coffee.
Lane added Tabasco to his scrambled eggs, and then squeezed mustard over his potatoes.  The coffee he took black.  He wanted to ask for bacon but knew there wasnt any because Tutu was making sure his cholesterol numbers stayed as low as possible.  Shed chopped up a slice or two of the sliced ham luncheon meat and added it to the eggs.  It tasted great.
Tutu, he said, if you werent my daughter Id marry you.  You sure know how to cook for a guy.  These potatoes are perfectly browned on the outside but moist and tasty on the inside.
And what makes you think Id have you, Mr. Mauler?  She favored him with a smile and a questioning tilt of her head.  My husband is going to have to be rich enough to hire me a maid.  I dont plan on spending my days over a hot stove and ruining my hands in dishwater.
What if I bought you a dishwasher? he said.
Well have to negotiate a salary first.  Besides, dad, if I cooked for anyone else the way I cook for you, theyd throw me out.  The stuff you put on your food is enough to make anybody sick.
Nonsense, dear.  Ive never had heartburn in my life, never a case of intestinal flu, and nary an ulcer.  Spices just keep the stomach healthy.  It was a favorite theory of his.  It was very true that hed never had any stomach trouble, and hed developed a real craving for hot sauce when living on Army chow.  It was his firm opinion that no matter how bad the cook screwed up the recipe, a bottle of Tabasco would make it right.  Since hed discovered the taste of habaero peppers at a little mercado on La Brea, hed taken to growing a few pepper plants of his own every year.  The habaero pepper is twenty to one hundred times as hot as the average jalapeo pepper, and much more flavorful.  Lane managed to pick eight to ten quarts each year to process into his own brand of hot sauce, but long before the coming of spring he was out buying more peppers to make more.  Maybe now that they had a larger area for a garden?
Father, dear Tutu said as she sat down across from him.  After a nibble of dry toast and a sip of orange juice, she said, You know that Im old enough for a learners permit now.  And I understand that Nevada doesnt have those silly laws restricting the hours kids under eighteen can drive and tying driving privileges to grades like California has.  So, I was thinking that maybe...?  She left her statement unfinished.
Well, now that were out of the Southern California congestion, I think we can get you a learners permit.  As long as you promise not to drive like a Californian, of course.  In fact, I was thinking of taking a little drive down to Vegas in a week or two, and looking at prices for a mini-van a couple years old.  I mean, you will be sixteen in just four more months, and you do act as an adult around the house, taking care of your poor old dad and so forth.  As long you dont let your grades slip, I think well be able to trust you.  How does that sound?
Tutu sprang up and rushed around the table to give her dad a hug.  You bet, dad!  And I can help out the wives in that co-op Mr. Tyson told us about, driving for groceries, I mean.  And you can bet I wont let my grades slip, Ill even work harder, honest.
Okay, okay, he said trying to disentangle himself from her hug.  Now let me finish my breakfast, would you?  Id like to get our living room furniture, such as it is, moved into the house before we have any company.
After breakfast, and with his daughters help, Lane used a furniture dolly to unload their heavier possessions and bring them in the house.  Moving things upstairs reminded Lane of why he had promised himself that he would never live in an upstairs apartment or two-story home again.  Good intentions frequently fall by the way.
He was up on the roof installing the little dish antenna for their satellite receiver when Noah Denton pulled up shortly after two in the afternoon.  Lane waved a greeting and shouted, Be right down!  Go on in and ask my daughter to fix you a cup of coffee, wont you? 
Denton waved back and walked up the steps to the front door.  When Lane came down he was seated in the kitchen telling a funny story to Tutu.
so then the guy passes the teller a note and she reads, I have a gun.  Give me all your money.  Well, bank policy is that shes supposed to give him the money with no argument.  After all, the money is insured and its easier to replace than an employees life.  So she gives him the money and he takes off.  Only after hes gone she turns the holdup note over and finds that the guy wrote it on the back of his parole papers.  Hed just gotten released down in Arizona two days earlier.  Tutu was laughing so hard that tears were beginning to form in the corner of her eyes.
Hi, Lane.  Need any help aligning that dish, Denton asked.
Naww, piece of cake.  I was just getting it tightened down when you arrived.  I see youve been entertaining Cheryl Ann.
Just filling her in on a little of our local humor, and thanking her for this really excellent cup of coffee.  Oh, before I forget, he slid a manila file folder across the table to Lane.  Ive got the paperwork here for your county vehicle.  If youll follow me outside, well verify the VIN number on the blazer and you can do a sight inventory of the equipment youll be signing for.  Of course, if you want to just take my word that everything is there and go ahead and sign, I can make up some of last quarters property losses.  He poked Lane in the ribs with an elbow while winking and chuckling at Tutu at the same time.
Thanks, Noah.  Wish I could oblige you, but I learned in the Army to always compare the receipt with the goods.  No offense intended.
And none taken, Lane.  Come on, lets count the band aids in the first aid kit, and if theyre all there I can head back to Tonopah.  He stood up and grabbed his hat from where hed tossed it on the kitchen table.  Pointing it at Cheryl Ann, he said, And I hope to get back soon for another cup of that delicious coffee, little lady.  Be seein you.
Tutu waved and said thanks as the Under-Sheriff and her dad went outside.  When Noah got Lane aside out by the new cruiser he said, Something I wanted to tell you about, but I didnt think your daughter needed to know.  After you left Winscotts this morning, I got a bulletin on the HF radio in your unit.  It could be connected with this thing.
Hows that, sheriff?
Call me Noah, wont you?  We got an all points from up in Idaho.  Seems a prisoner was being extradited from Portland, Oregon, to Salt Lake City.  A couple officers from Salt Lake drove out and picked the man up because a court appointed psychiatrist convinced a judge the prisoner had a pathological fear of flying that might trigger a psychotic episode.  On the way back they got a little ways south of Boise when the car blew a tire and went into a skid then cracked up.  Both the officers were unconscious for a few moments.  When they were found later, the rear window of the sedan had been kicked out.  The prisoner had gotten hold of the escorts keys so we can assume he got the cuffs off shortly afterwards.
Just what has this got to do with us here in Nevada, or the Winscott case in particular? Lane asked.
I was just getting to that.  The prisoner was one Richard Dumont.  Ever hear of him?
Who hasnt? Lane said.  He makes Michael Myers of the Halloween series of slice and dice movies look like a Sunday school student.  Wanted for murder and rape in Arkansas, Nebraska, Wyoming, Utah and picked up in Oregon before he could kill again.  Utah appears to have the strongest evidence against him and will probably be able to get a conviction soonest, so the other states are willing to let Utah hold the trial.  They can always transfer him to their jurisdiction if Dumont gets off in Utah and theyll have that much more time to make their case.
And Dumont is supposed to be something of a mountain man.  Done some trapping, belonged to a couple of those black powder clubs who like to pretend they are just as good as any fur trapper who ever tread the Rockies in the past hundred and fifty years.  He may be on the loose right here in our back yard.
What makes you think that?  There havent been any sightings or other leads, have there?
Just a hunch, Lane.  A gut feeling I get after nearly thirty years wearing this uniform.  Right now I feel like a need a half bottle of antacid every morning and again at night.  Now, with this Winscott thing well, you just keep on your toes and watch your back.  Okay?
You got it, Noah.
The sight inventory didnt take long.  Basically they counted the Band-Aids in the first aid kit, verified the serial number on the shotgun and radio installed in the cruiser, and compared the VIN number to the one on the receipt Lane was signing.  A few minutes later Tutu heard a vehicle drive away and her dad came back into the house and tossed a new set of car keys on the desk in his office.
*     *     *
Isabella Esposito turned the fire off beneath the machaca she had just finished preparing.  The shredded beef, sauted with mild white onions and a touch of cumin, gave off a heavenly aroma that filled the forty-foot trailer.  The beef had been cooked as a roast before she had shredded it; all that was necessary now was to cook the onions and warm the beef while the flavors married.  She transferred the beef to a serving dish and added a large serving spoon.  She had also made a dozen and a half tortillas, rice, and frijoles refrito.  Her husband had returned from tending the flock just before sunset. While Arturo, her son, was milking the two goats that ran with the sheep.  She set dinner on the table and called Manuel and Maria from the living room where Manuel was watching the news while five-year-old Maria colored in an activity book.
Manuel sat down and filled a plate for his daughter then one for himself.  He folded a tortilla and used it to push some of the shredded beef onto his fork.  He swallowed with gusto and then had a bite of the beans and followed that with some of Bellas rice.  Satisfied that all was right and proper he complimented his wife.
	A fine meal Bella.  She nodded her thanks but she was looking out the kitchen window toward the goat shed.  Dont worry about Turo.  He will be in shortly, he said. Manuel spooned some of his wifes hot salsa onto his plate and stirred it into his beans.  Then he continued his habit of a bite of beef, followed by beans, then rice, and then a bite of tortilla.  Every now and then he would sip water from the glass Bella placed next to his plate at every meal.
An old-fashioned iron teakettle simmered on the back of the stove.  One of the things Isabella disliked about her trailer was the lack of cross ventilation, which allowed household odors, especially when cooking, to build up to an unpleasant level.  She had tried to replace those odors with a fragrant potpourri.
Momma, Maria asked.  When will we have more cuckoo-bumpers from your garden?  Maria knew that her folks had told her many times that, at the table, children were to be seen and not heard, allowing the parents time to discuss events of their day.  However, she was the one member of the family who truly enjoyed the salads her mother fixed and looked forward to them as often as possible.
Cucumbers, her mother corrected.  Not before summer, little one.  Ill start some in the cold frame as early as possible, and transfer them to the garden in May, but they wont ripen before late July or early August.  Just in time to serve them with fresh tomatoes from our garden also.
Mmm, maters, the little girl said as she licked her lips in an exaggerated fashion.  Isabella served fresh salads from her garden often because she knew they were nutritionally important to her family, but little Maria actually loved them.  Much more than sweet treats, fortunately.
Isabella ate her food idly as she thought about the coming spring.  She would like to plant some fruit trees, but they would take years before bearing fruit.  Shed have to wait another season or two before ordering them.  Her impatience was already getting the best of her.  She was eagerly looking forward to planting her garden in the coming year.  She combed last years seed catalogue because the new one wouldnt be out before January.  She always saved the best seeds from each years harvest for planting the next season, but occasionally there were new varieties she wanted to try if they were not too expensive.
Manuel always helped her prepare the first planting of the spring, bringing last seasons manure and compost from the goat pen and turning it into the soil as soon as the land was workable.  Here in Nevada, Bella was treated with a few extra weeks mild weather, compared to when they had lived in Colorado, at each end of the growing season.  
There, Manuel had worked for a very nice gringo family who ran beef as well as sheep, and farmed alfalfa for harvest and sale throughout the west.  Manuel had worked hard and the two of them had saved their money until they had a nest egg that would allow them to move to Nevada where grazing land could be leased for a small fee, and they could buy a second hand trailer which Manuel fixed up for them.  After six years living in this two bedroom trailer, Manuel was beginning to talk about buying them a lot in town where Isabella could have a real home and the children could walk to school instead of tramping two miles out to the county road to catch the bus.  In town, they would have electricity and a telephone.  She would like to be able to call her parents once in awhile.  Isabellas madre and padre still lived in Colorado, but if she kept the calls infrequent and didnt stay on the line too long, Manuel wouldnt object about the expense of phoning long distance.  They would keep this trailer and Manuel could move it around to different grazing areas as necessary.  
She hoped they could find a lot in the city of Valley Forks with room enough for her garden.  It was surprising how much a twenty-five by forty foot garden could cut down on the amount they spent for groceries.  The more they saved the sooner they could make their dream come true.  She would order the fruit trees the first season after they bought their own property.
Manuel finished his plate and was helping himself to more.  He asked for a second cup of coffee also.  She sipped hers, hardly more than half gone, and then got up to fix a second cup for Manuel.  Bella had poured a cup for Maria, but the little one had only sipped a little.  Maybe Maria would like it with a little more honey?  She poured more for Manuel and set it beside his plate when she set down.
Turo came in from the milking shed with a bucket of fresh goats milk.  He took a gallon jug from the fridge and found it only a third full.  He poured a glass for himself and another for his sister and then poured the fresh milk from the bucket into the jug using a funnel his mother kept nearby for just that purpose.
Are you sure you wiped your feet before coming in? his father suddenly snapped.  Isabella looked at her husband.  His tone had changed and was strangely menacing now.  Damn place is beginning to smell like manure.  Why do you stare at me, woman?  Cant a man hope for his home to smell clean?  I work outside with the animals all day.  If I liked their smell, Id stay outside.
Bella had nothing to say.  Maria had cleaned her plate and was asking if she could take her milk into the front room and watch Power Rangers.  Bella said yes and shooed her out of the kitchen.  If there was going to be a fight, she didnt want the little ones underfoot.  She was beginning to feel a little light-headed and there was a pounding in her ears. Boom-boom-boom-boompity! 
Manuel was beginning to act strange.  There was a glazed look in his eyes.  If she hadnt known better, she would have said he was getting drunk, but she knew he didnt have a bottle around anywhere.  The only time Manuel even touched alcohol was once a month when they took the pickup and drove to Tonopah for groceries and stopped in at La Cocina for lunch.  Manuel always treated himself to two beers.  No, he wasnt drunk.  Then why was he so touchy?
Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Boom-boom-boom-boompity!
Turo excused himself and said he would go outside and clean his boots.  He put the container of fresh milk into the fridge and went out the front door.  Manuel glared after him.
Picarito, she said to her husband, using the pet name she always called him.  His boots were clean.  I dont smell anything.  Why are you angry?
Damn it woman! he said giving her the back of his hand across her mouth, something he had never done before.  If I say the house smells, then it smells and you have no right to argue with me.
Manuel, what has made you so angry?  Did something happen with the flock today?
If anything did, its no business of yours!  Ill take care of the sheep and you are to take care of this house.  It should be clean and sweet smelling when I come home!
Bella glanced around her.  The kitchen was spotless, only the utensils she had used for dinner were sitting on the sink.  She knew her living room was immaculate also.  Her mother had raised her to keep a good home for her man and she deeply loved Manuel and wanted to please him.  Manuel hurriedly got up from the kitchen table, nearly knocking his chair over.  A pig-sty! he said, and a woman who argues with me.  What have I done to deserve this?  Dios! he snorted and stalked off to the living room.
Isabella finished the few bites left on her plate and carried it to the sink.  She drank the last of her coffee and set the cup in the sink while she ran the dishwater.  Turo hadnt had his dinner yet so she dished up a plate for him, covered it with a linen dish towel, and put it in the oven where the pilot light would keep it warm.
Damned pig, she muttered under her breath.  What gave him the right to act that way with her?  She kept his house neat and clean, she kept his children clean, and she always had meals on the table when it was time to eat.  Even when money had been really short, when they first moved here and Manuel spent most of their savings for the well and their solar power, she had managed.  She raised food in her garden, she tended the chickens and goats so they always had eggs and milk and a little meat when the does gave birth.  Now that things were finally getting better for them, now that they had money in the bank and were thinking about buying a place in town, why did he have to find fault with her?  
Was he seeing someone on the side?  Was this his way of dumping her and the children?  Hoping to make her mad enough that maybe she would pack up the children and head back to Colorado and her parents home?
She threw dishes into the steaming water and began washing them while inside she fumed.  She wouldnt take this!  No she wouldnt!  In her anger she cut herself on a small kitchen knife she hadnt seen beneath the soapsuds.  She jerked her hand out of the water and stuck her finger in her mouth.  It wasnt cut bad.  She put her other hand under the water and cautiously felt for the knife.  She wouldnt let Manuel do this to her.  Shed use that knife and have his cojones for breakfast!  She had almost decided to set the little paring knife aside and reach for a larger carving knife when she heard a commotion in the front room.
Oww! Maria screamed.
Thatll teach you to pay attention to what youre doing instead of gluing your eyes to the television.  You stupid burro!  Any child as old as you are should be able to drink a simple glass of milk without spilling it.  Not you, youre too busy watching TV.  Ill shut the damned thing off and give you a reason to shed some real tears!
Bella heard the TV go silent and shortly there was a scream and a sickening chunk!  Forgetting about the knife she ran to the front room in time to catch Manuel holding a crying Maria by one arm while raising a stout piece of firewood over his head and preparing to hit their daughter again!
No! she screamed, but it was too late.  The length of wood came down and struck Maria across the forehead, the bridge of her nose, and split both lips.  Blood began flowing from Marias wounds and Bella ran to grab Manuels arm before he could raise it to strike again.  He shrugged her off and swung the piece of wood at her.  It hit her on the side of the head with a solid impact and she saw stars for a moment.  She thought she might pass out but was able to hold onto a thread of consciousness and stagger to the closet in the corner where Manuel kept the rifle he used to kill the coyotes if they threatened to hunt down his sheep.  Manuel paid her no attention as he slammed the firewood again and again into Marias head and shoulders.
There it was, on the high shelf where Maria couldnt get hold of it while playing.  With trembling hands she pulled the rifle down and held it in front of her.  She worked the lever action as she turned around and pointed the rifle at Manuel, firing when the gun was hardly at waist level.  She could see him stagger from the impact but his arm was swinging that awful length of wood at Maria again and it struck with an awful impact.  Maria could actually hear the crunch as her daughters skull cracked with a sickening sound.
Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Boom-boom-boom-boompity!
Manuel bellowed with rage and tossed his once beautiful daughter aside, lurching across the room to seize the gun and yank it from his wifes grasp.  Isabella was so startled to see him still standing that she hadnt even thought about cocking the rifle and firing again.  
Blinded with pain and fury he didnt bother to turn the gun around and shoot his wife.  Instead he swung it in a sweeping round house that started low and swept up from the floor to connect with her cheek.  The impact made a grisly thwack!  Bellas head was slammed around to her left as blood and teeth flew over her shoulder.
Damn puta!  You try to poison me, I know!  The same way you poison the minds of the children against me.  You turn them against me and then you shoot me.  Puta!  Bitch!  You laugh, no?  Okay!  He brought the rifle down on his wifes collapsed form again and again, screaming and cursing her until the weapon dropped from his hands.  Standing over her, sweating and panting, he looked down at his handiwork while holding both hands to his stomach.  Fucking whore!  You don fuck with Manuel no more!  I see to that.  He bent down; perhaps to pick up the rifle where it had fallen, but the loss of blood and his exertions had taken their toll.  He collapsed over his dead wife, still muttering.  His legs kicked once or twice and his torso shuddered then he lay still.
Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Boom-boom-boom-boompity!
Outside, Arturo watched in shock as his father collapsed upon his mother.  He had come from the goat shed as soon as he heard his sisters screaming, and arrived just in time to see his mother fire the rifle at his father.  He saw Manuel stagger from the impact of the bullet and fling his sister across the room with a curse.  Then papa lunged at mama, jerking the gun away from her and killing her before Arturo could even open the door to go in and help.  As he watched his mother drop to the floor, Arturo became too afraid to try and help.  It was probably too late anyway.  He watched while his father quivered his last gasp and then he cried.  He felt no shame.  Big boys dont cry, he had heard often enough.  He didnt feel very big just now.  He cried until he could cry no more.
Arturo went out to the goat shed.  Hanging from a nail was a heavy blanket, rolled and tied with a short length of nylon rope.  Frequently he had spent the night with the flock of sheep when the weather was warmer, and always carried this blanket with him.  Now he slung it across his shoulders and headed for the hills in the enveloping darkness.  There was nothing more he could do for his family, he knew.  If he were found here now, the only one alive, the authorities might blame him for the murders.  If he went into the mountains, he could live off the land.  He would set out for Colorado.  His abuela and abuelo would believe his story.  They knew he was a good boy.  They would hide him from the authorities until he was old enough to join the Marines.  He would leave Colorado then, and he would never return.
Boom-boom-boom-boompity!
					


Chapter 3

Miss Cheryl Ann Mauler began the first week of her sophomore year in Valley Forks five weeks after she and her dad had moved to the little town.  The school system was somewhat confusing to her after the organized chaos of Southern California.  Valley Forks had a total of twenty-three students in grades kindergarten through twelve.  The state provided six teachers, four of whom were two married couples, with a man and a woman left over for good measure.
There were no students in the sixth or eighth grades, with one, two, or three students in the others.  Tutu found that she and Ruthie were the only sophomores, Fred Silverman was the only junior, and Jimmy (Junior) Swiegert the only senior.  Since it wasnt practical to have separate classrooms for each grade, the six-room building which served as a school had two rooms dedicated as offices for the teachers, while four served as classrooms for a variety of needs, students, and grades.  The rooms were flexible and had often been used for multiple purposes before.  Not too many decades back, when Valley Forks was a mining town in boom, the building had done a brisk business as a brothel.
Cheryl Ann enjoyed the arrangements that had been made for her education; she also enjoyed the teal blue Ford mini-van now parked in the Mauler driveway next to her dads pickup.  Tutu was the only high schooler in town with her own vehicle, but since the town was so small, she didnt drive it often.  Shopping trips to Vegas or Tonopah were always made on the weekend and Tutu had driven twice in the company of older women as they picked up groceries for the co-op.  Her dad preferred not to drive with her since she complained he intimidated her.  Still, he was pleased with the back-channel information he received from the older women concerning Tutus driving.
He hadnt learned any more concerning the Winscott murder.  The man had not owned a car.  He had learned that an acquaintance brought Winscott his drinking water in a three hundred gallon water tank on the back of his pickup about once a month, or as often as necessary.  The friend hadnt been around for more than two weeks when the body had been discovered.  In fact, the water on hand only half filled the water tank.  Officially, the case was listed as a suicide.
On the brighter side, if there was one, Lane hadnt heard anything about Richard Dumont either.  That was a mixed blessing.  On the one hand it was a blessing because no other crimes or mysterious happenings had taken place in Lanes jurisdiction.  The flip side of that coin was that Dumont was still on the run, still hiding out somewhere.  There were reportedly sixty FBI men assigned to the case and working out of Reno.  Lane recalled the FBI had taken an awfully long time rounding up that guy back in North Carolina.  He thought dourly about their chances to wrap this case up quickly.
On a Saturday in November, Lane had let Tutu drive him into Tonopah to pick up some incidentals for their home.  Arriving two hours before lunch they had quickly completed their shopping and had pulled into the Station House Casino and Hotel for lunch.  Tutu ordered a salmon patty and a small salad while Lane ordered the chili, as usual.  Halfway through their meal he spotted Connie Conried coming into the restaurant alone.  Lane half rose and motioned her over to join them. 
He was standing when she arrived.  Dining alone, Dr. Conried?  Why dont you join Cheryl Ann and myself?
Well, thank you Lane.  She sat down at the table in a chair across from Cheryl Ann.
Cheryl, allow me to introduce Doctor Connie Conried.  Youve seen her in Valley Forks a couple times, havent you?
Cheryl offered her hand and gave the doctor a warm and sincere smile.  Hello again, doctor.
Connie took her cue from Cheryl.  Among my other duties with the Regional Medical Health Services, I also act as the school nurse.  We met at the beginning of the school year, she said to Lane.  Nice to see you again, Cheryl.
Can we order something for you, Connie? Lane asked.
A waitress, obviously an acquaintance of Connies, appeared and Connie spoke to her.  Hi, Hank, Connie said.  Hows the chefs salad today?
Its fresh, and pretty good if youre a rabbit, Hank said.
Please bring me one with gobs of blue cheese dressing on the side, Connie said.
The young girl left and Lane looked at Connie.  Hank? he remarked with a perplexed look.
Short for Henrietta.  I should have told you, I eat here most days.  The prices are reasonable and its not too far from work.  Besides, about the only other choices in town are fast food joints.
Before she could say anything more, her beeper went off. 
Oh, damn! Connie said as she grabbed at the waist of her skirt and glared at the annoying little instrument.  Ill have to excuse myself for a minute while I answer this.  Lane rose and eased Connies chair out as she headed for a pay phone.
Tutu watched the exchange between the two adults.  Cool, dad, she smirked.  Why dont you have her over to the house for dinner before the weather makes it impossible for us to barbecue outside?  You might not come up with another excuse before spring.  I didnt know you knew any lady doctors?  And, a mighty good looking one at that.  You do know that shes single, dont you?
Cheryl Ann, Im old enough to handle my social life without advice from you.  The doctor and I met in an official capacity more than six weeks ago.  Ive only spoken to her occasionally since then, and only on business.
Well, dad, times a wasting.  Mom wouldnt want you to spend the rest of your life alone, and I kind of like the lady doctor.
Drop it, Tutu.  Quiet now, here she comes.
Lane was only half out of his chair when Connie swept in and seated herself.  Ill be darned if Im going to pay for another meal I dont have time to eat.  Besides, the dead arent going anywhere.
The waitress arrived almost as though she had been waiting for Connie to return from making her phone call.  Hank set down a large plate of salad, topped with sliced tomatoes, ham, turkey, avocado, and topped with crumbled bacon.  Next to that she set a cup-sized bowl of dressing.  Will you want anything to drink, Doc?
Just a pot of tea, Hank.  Thanks for hurrying.  My beeper went off and Ill just have time to make a large dent in this salad before I have to fly.
Coming right up, the waitress said, spinning on her heel and running to fetch the tea.
Dead? Lane inquired.
Yeah, Connie said as she spooned the creamy white dressing over her salad.  Down in your bailiwick.  A sheepherder and his family.  Three dead and one missing.  Ill have to run down there to tag em and bag em.  She stuck a forkful of lettuce and tomato into her mouth.
Guess I better run, too.   Deputy Snow is handling things on my day off, but Ill end up doing the follow up so I better find out the details before the trail gets cold.  Theres only one sheep rancher that I know of in the valley, name of Esposito.
Connie swallowed the mouthful she had been chewing.  Thats the one; a man, his wife, and a five-year-old daughter.  Lots of blood.  Like the Winscott case.  I understand theres a teenage boy missing, but theyre looking for him.
Arturo, Tutu said.  I know him from school.  Small for his age, and quiet.  I dont think he would have been involved in anything serious.
Hes not a suspect yet, Tutu, her dad said.  Let me get there and look the scene over.  Finish your salmon and lets get a move on.  Lane had already wolfed down the remaining portion of his chili.
You dont have to rush her, Lane.  Im going to take my time, and Cheryl can ride back with me, Connie said.
You sure she wont be a bother? Lane asked.
Are you planning on being a bother? Connie asked her.
Wide-eyed, Tutu feigned incredulity.  Who, me?  Why, gosh, no!  No trouble at all.
See, Connie said to Lane.  No trouble at all.  You rush off.  Ill drop her at your house.  I know how to get to the Esposito place.
Okay, doc.  If she gives you any trouble, just give her the back of your hand.  Thats what I always do.  He took out his wallet and dropped some bills on the table, then leaned over and pecked his daughter on the forehead.  Behave yourself, squirt.
Dont worry, dad.  I know how to behave with a good looking lady doctor, even if you dont, she gave her dad a wink.
Now you do have me worried, Lane said as he nodded to Connie and headed for the door.  As he got into Tutus mini-van he decided not to call the sheriffs office and request a crime scene unit.  Technically, Lane was supposed to be off today.  If he appeared to be checking up on Josiah, the man might take offense, and rightly so.  But if he just casually showed up at the crime scene, and let Josiah handle the details, hed only be exhibiting normal curiosity about goings on in his home area.  Josiah couldnt get upset over that.
Lane put the car in gear and began the more than ninety-mile trip back to Valley Forks.  He held down the accelerator until the speedometer read seventy then engaged the cruise control.  Since he was driving Tutus car there was no siren or light, and that was okay with him.  Connie had said the victims were dead so there wasnt much point in hurrying.  Seventy miles an hour was more than adequate as far as Lane was concerned.
The miles sped by and Lane put his mind on cruise control also.  There are only four kinds of scenery in Nevada: rolling, brown desert with sagebrush and creosote bushes; flat, dry lakes with hard packed surfaces; barren, scrub hills with little vegetation, a few jackrabbits and the odd coyote or two; and the crowded, neon sprawl of cities like Reno and Las Vegas.  You dont even see Burma Shave signs anymore.  Putting his mind on cruise control was a technique hed perfected.  It made the long featureless drives go faster.  Rather than listen to the radio, which worked only half the time across the vast desert distances, hed think about what he was going to plant in the garden come spring.  Or what hed get for Tutus fast approaching sixteenth birthday.  Or what a lady doctor would be like in bed.
Damn!  From where had that thought sneaked in?  Must have been a reaction to something Tutu had mentioned.  Forget it boy, he told himself.  She was a lady doctor with umpteen years of college behind her and a busy practice in front of her.  She certainly wouldnt be interested in a thirty-eight year old deputy sheriff with a junior college degree in Police Science.  But, she did have the cutest mouth and eyes attractive enough to rent out to Maybelline for commercials.
He banished those thoughts as he began wondering what he would find when he reached Espositos.  He remembered the man; young thirties, bull necked and broad shouldered.  Esposito and his wife had moved from Colorado six years ago and leased some grazing land from BLM.  Isabella made the best burritos, rice, and chili con carne in the whole state of Nevada in Lanes judgment.  He had met them while giving a drug resistance presentation at a PTA meeting just after school began.  Nice folks who kept their children neat and clean and harped on them to keep their grades up.  The kind of people Lane thought of as salt of the earth, like the pioneers who had shaped this land.
Now they were dead.  Lane knew drugs couldnt be involved here.  What could have led to such a gruesome end for the young family?  Where was Arturo?  If the escaped prisoner, Richard Dumont, had any connection with this case, his hopes for Arturo might certainly come to naught.
It was shortly after two in the afternoon when Lane breezed through Valley Forks.  He should have driven straight home to unload three weeks worth of groceries but he decided to drive six miles north of town where Esposito had his trailer and small herd of sheep.  He spotted the gravel turnoff and drove the last two miles across the valley floor up to the fringe of the Toiyabe National Forest where the trailer was parked.  Already there were two blue and white county cars there.
Because the land was leased from BLM, Manuel Esposito hadnt spent too much money on improvements.  Hed rented a small drilling rig and drilled a four-inch well to a depth of ninety feet.  A three-bladed windmill turned an air-compressor, which pumped air down a quarter inch line to the bottom of the well.  There it mixed with water in a one-inch riser pipe.  The mixture of air and water, lighter than the water surrounding the riser, floated up the pipe while drawing more water in behind it.  It was called an air-injection lift and had the advantage that all the moving parts were above the surface, which meant Manuel didnt have to pull the riser pipe whenever maintenance was required.  It was also cheap and fool proof.  
Water from the riser pipe filled a fifteen hundred gallon tank standing on a reinforced twelve-foot platform.  From there it would flow downhill to one of three watering troughs for his sheep, or to a twelve-volt demand pump for the trailer.
On top of the trailer, facing south, four solar panels provided one hundred watts each to a charge controller and a battery pack of ten, six-volt golf cart batteries. Each pair of batteries was wired in series to provide twelve volts, and the pairs wired in parallel to provide increased storage.  All together, Manuel had a total of ten thousand watts storage capacity to power the trailer at night or through several cloudy days in a row.  A fifteen-hundred watt inverter converted twelve volt DC power to one hundred and twenty volts AC needed for household appliances.  The refrigerator was gas-operated and ran on propane since electric refrigeration was wasteful of the limited AC power available.  Manuel had tied up about three thousand dollars between the well and the solar power system, but he could take everything with him if he chose to move his flock.  Except for the hole in the ground where he drew his water, of course.
Lane pulled in and killed the engine.  Harvey Buckhorn was coming around from behind the trailer.  He had his thirty-five millimeter camera in one hand and had evidently been taking photos of the crime scene.  A black man in a deputys uniform came out of the trailer as Lane got out of the car.  The deputy wasnt quite as tall as a telephone pole, and only slightly thicker around the middle.  He had a complexion that glistened like oiled ebony.
Snowman! Lane called to his weekend relief.  I leave you alone for less than half a day and youre stirring up trouble in my back yard.  The two men clasped hands in a warm and comradely grasp.  Josiah Snow had also been in the military police before joining NCSO, although Lane teased him that Air Policemen stationed at Nellis AFB, just outside of Vegas, could hardly call their duty assignment a hardship tour.
Howdy, Lane.  Sorry you had to come home to this.  It sure aint pretty.  The man bowed his head and shook it sadly back and forth.
Any idea what went down? Lane asked.
Not for sure.  I doubt if well learn anything until we find the boy, unless the lady doc comes up with something when she does the autopsies.  The little girl has been viciously beaten, Manuel has been shot with a rifle, you can see the exit wound in his back, and Mrs. Esposito appears to have been beaten, but I couldnt tell before moving the body of her dead husband off her.   The place is a real mess.  Ive been looking for the boy, Arturo is his name, but havent given the inside a thorough search.  Didnt want to disturb anything before the Doc got here.
She should be here shortly, Lane said.  My daughter and I were having lunch with her when she got the call.
Oh? Snow asked with a questioning look.
Well, actually, Cheryl Ann and I were having lunch at the Station House when Connie joined us.  It wasnt like a date or anything.  Why in the hell am I telling you this?
I dunno, Deputy Snow, said with a wide smile and what appeared to be a roomful of gleaming white teeth.  Guilty conscience or wishful thinking?
Go push a rope!  Lane gave him a playful punch in the shoulder.  Together he and Josiah walked to the front door and went in, stepping cautiously so as not to disturb the disorder.  Somebody with more forensic training than himself might be able to discern a vital clue from the clutter and chaos.
Lane knew that Isabella kept her home as spotless as she kept her kids.  The disarray surrounding the carnage was mute testimony to the violence of the crime, but what had happened?
Five-year-old Maria was an unrecognizable mass of pulp and blood where she lay on the floor between the sofa and a coffee table.  Isabella lay in one corner of the living room where she must have been thrown after she had taken Manuels deer rifle from the closet and shot him, or had the boy shot the father after catching him beating his wife and child?  Manuels wound had been fatal but it didnt appear he had died quickly.  
You checked the other rooms? Lane asked the Snowman.
Briefly.  Didnt see the boy anywhere.  Look, if Manuel just blew his top and went crazy, he could have killed the boy anywhere within a few thousand acres surrounding here.  Or maybe were reading this wrong and the boy killed the girl, then shot the old man and killed the mother too.  Manuel died as he was trying to get to his wife.  But theres no way well have any idea what really happened until we can find the boy.
Any hint that someone else might be involved?  Any tire tracks, foot prints, or any sign that would indicate a stranger?
Youre thinking about that Dumont character, right?"  The Snowman shook his head.  "I havent seen anything that would point the finger at a stranger.  But, neither have I seen anything that says it couldnt have been.  Weve just got to hope we find Arturo alive, Lane.
Lane felt a sickening tightness in his guts.  What a waste this whole scene was; an attractive wife and mother, a hard working father, a good-looking child, and another kid missing.  He and Josiah were just stepping outdoors as Connie pulled up in her beige county car.  Cheryl was not with her.  Connie had dropped her off at home to spare her the gory scene inside the trailer.
Lo, Doc, Josiah said.  Sorry to have to bother you on a weekend, but theres an awful mess requiring your professional services inside.  If you dont mind, Id like to wait out here.
You should cut down on those rich dinners, Deputy Snow.  Youll have an ulcer before youre thirty.  Connie quipped back at him.
Aww, Doc, you know how my Shandra cooks.  Shell give me the dickens if I dont like her cookin, and ulcers if I do.  Whats a fellow supposed to do about that?
Keep loving her and keep your Blue Cross paid up, Connie said.  Lane?  You doing the paperwork on this one?
Not me, its my day off.  The Snowman will take care of all the details.  Fact is, I better get on home and give Tutu a hand putting the groceries away.
Thats a nice girl you have there.  We had a long talk during the drive down here.  When do you expect me to move in?
What! Lane spluttered while his face turned crimson.
Just kidding.  You know shes got us paired up, of course.  I didnt want to rain on her parade so I just said wed see what happens.  Was I wrong?
Ill have a long and serious talk with her when I get home, Connie.
You do that, but stay out of the kitchen.  Shes invited me to have dinner with the two of you tonight and I couldnt think of a graceful way to refuse.  I gather shes going to fix something special.  Hope that it wont be an imposition on you.
Oh, no, of course not.  But do you suppose youre going to feel much like dinner when you finish up here?
Run along with you, I am a doctor, remember?  Ive spent my time in the ER trauma center.  See you about five.
Yeah, sure, okay, he said.  He was surprised but not disappointed.  He got into Tutus van and backed out of the yard.
Twenty minutes later he pulled the van into the drive of his house and got out.  He grabbed two arms full of groceries from the back of the van and left the sliding door open as he took the groceries inside.
Oh, good, youre home.  Ill bring in the rest of the groceries and put them away, Tutu said.  Why dont you go up stairs and take a shower?  And do something about that five oclock shadow, dad.
What, no kiss? he asked, blankly.
Tutu grabbed his shoulders and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.  That should hold you.  Now let me run and bring the rest of the things in.  She headed for the front door.
Okay, but were going to have to have a long talk after while.
She stopped, turned, and put her hands on her hips.  Why, dad?  Because I invited company for dinner?  I am the lady of the house you know, and I do have a right to invite a guest home, dont I?
Of course you do, Sweetheart.  But I think youre kind of pushing this thing with Connie and I a little too much.  Dont you?
Of course not.  Ill admit, she would be quite a catch for most any guy, but Im not shopping around for a mother.  You know Ill finish school in less than two years and then Ill be off to college and who knows what.  Its you Im thinking of, dad.  I wont be around here to wash your dirty underwear and cook your meals for much longer.
So?  Seems to me I did all right on my own for a number of years before I met your mother.  I expect Ill manage.
Dont be silly.  Your idea of breakfast, lunch or dinner, is to open a can of chili.  If mom hadnt bought your clothes youd never wear anything other than your uniform.  Granted, you dont smoke and only drink occasionally, but other than that, youre not much of a catch, dad.  Someone has to give you some help.  On the other hand, the lady doctor is quite some catch.  Im surprised that shes still on the market with the little competition she has around here.  Having said her piece she flounced out.  Lane decided not to argue and went upstairs to shave.
By the time he got out of the shower the sun was waning.  He found Tutu had laid out charcoal slacks, a powder blue sweater and dark gray socks on his bed.  A white short-sleeved shirt hung from a hanger on his closet door and beige loafers sat next to the bed.  She didnt have to hit him over the head with a baseball bat.  He could take a hint.
After dressing, he wandered downstairs and into the kitchen.  Tutu was peeling and slicing vegetables.  The peelings went into a five gallon plastic bucket he had set under the sink.  Mondays and Fridays he hauled it out back to his compost heap and would later work it into his garden soil.
Whats for dinner, Squirt?
Broiled chicken breasts, whipped potatoes, and stir fry vegetables.  Ive got snow peas, sliced carrots, celery, mushrooms, a red onion, and half of a green pepper.  I would have liked to add some fried noodles, but I didnt plan ahead.  It was the best I could do on the spur of the moment.  And dont jiggle the fridge.  Ive got some whipped Jell-O and mixed fruit setting up.
My, my.  We should have Connie for dinner more often.  Any cashews in the veggies?
Oh, great!  Thanks for reminding me, she said happily.  Theres a can in one of the cupboards over there, she pointed, no, I think its in the pantry.  Would you be a dear and fetch it for me?
Youre not starting already, are you?
Of course not, Im just getting organized.  The whole dinner wont take twenty minutes to put together, but I want to have everything collected and ready to go.
You wish is my command, fair princess.  He salaamed in her direction then went to fetch the cashews.
I hope you trip over your big feet, she threw at him.
As he came back with the cashews he retorted.  Nasty, and after I brought home that shiny, almost new car for you.  Shall I take it back?
Oh, daddy, no!  I was only teasing.
Me too, Sugarplum.  And my feet are not large.  They are just the right size to give me balance.
Yes, dad.  And youre incredibly smart and good-looking to boot, the only problem is, I think you landed on your head once too often when you were jumping out of airplanes with the paratroops.  Why anyone would want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane Ill never understand.
If youd ever flown with some of those reserve pilots who are only getting in flight time to meet their monthly minimums, you wouldnt have to ask.
Okay, I surrender.  She put the last of her vegetables into a colander and swished it under the running tap.  "Ill just put these in the fridge and then we can see if theres any news on the boob tube.  How did things go out at Espositos?  Do you think itll be on the news?
It was a mess, and no, I dont think itll be on the news.  Radio, perhaps, they keep in touch with the sheriffs office, but Vegas wont hear about it until tomorrow, and theyre not up-linked via satellite so you wont hear about it there.
Care to talk about it?
Lane didnt hold back to spare her feelings.  She was old enough to understand what he did for a living and he preferred that she learn the world wasnt always a pretty place.  
Not much to tell, Pumpkin.  Bella, Manuel, and Maria are dead.  Arturo is missing.  He may be dead or he may be hiding.  It doesnt appear that he was involved but were looking for him just the same.
Howd they die? she asked.
Horribly, but were not sure of the details.  Little Maria was beaten with a length of stove wood.  It seems Manuel did it and when Bella caught him she shot him but before he died he killed her too.  It wasnt very pretty.
Oh, my goodness!  If poor Arturo saw all that, no wonder hes hiding.  Maybe he thinks his dad wants to kill him too, but why?
That, as they say, is the sixty-four dollar question.  Hey, Connie is pulling in the drive.
Go for it, dad.  Ill start dinner.  She headed for the kitchen and Lane went to the front door.
Lane opened the door as Connie stepped onto the front porch.  Hi! she said.  Youre sure Im not butting into anything?  I can always grab something to eat at Arts before I head on up the road.
If I let you get away Tutu wont speak to me for a week.  She has dinner well in hand.  Come on in and take a load off.  He held the door while she entered and showed her into the living room.  Since it was mid-November the evening air was getting quite chilly and Tutu had already lit a small fire in the airtight stove.  Lane opened the firebox and poked at the coals with a poker, then tossed in a few more lumps of coal and stirred them around.  Connie was just removing her coat when he turned to her.  He grabbed the coat and went to hang it on a hook in the hallway.
Thanks, Lane, she called after him.
Returning to the living room he asked, Can I get you something to drink?  Coffee, a cocktail?
She made herself comfortable pushing the loafers off her feet.  I could sure go for something tall, cold, and at least mildly alcoholic.
How about a glass of Chablis over ice?
With a dash of Seven-Up? she asked.
One wine cooler coming right up.  He went to the kitchen to mix the drinks and returned shortly.  I dont want to get into a lot of shop talk now, but Id rather get it over with before dinner.  You want to talk about it?
She took a sip of her wine and smiled.  I guess it happened pretty much like Josiah figured.  Manuel was beating on the daughter, Mrs. Esposito walked in on them.  She must have tried to stop him and he swung on her.  Then she got hold of his hunting rifle, and bang!  One shot to the abdomen.  He grabbed the gun and beat her to death with it and then collapsed on top of her.  I couldnt find any sign of smudges or footprints in the spatter patterns to indicate Arturo or anyone else might have been at the scene.  What little sign I did pick up Josiah assured me belonged either to him or you or the deputy taking the pictures.
I guess that means Ill have to get a search started to locate the boy.  Ill call up some volunteers and well start on it first thing tomorrow.  Well either find him dead and not too far from the trailer or well pick up his tracks if hes on the run and bring him in.
Connie took a few more sips of her drink.  Why would he be on the run?  I told you I dont think he was involved in this.
Hes just a kid.  If he saw what was going on, he could have panicked and ran thinking he would be next.  Or he could have figured he would be blamed for the whole tragic mess.  You never know with kids.
Id hate to think of him spending the night out in the dark, huddled beneath a tree somewhere.
Hes a shepherds boy.  Probably done it many times in his life.  I just hope hes still alive.  What I cant figure out is what set Manuel off?  Do you suppose it could be something the Army is messing around with at that CBW place over in Utah?  I heard they had some freak winds there twenty or thirty years back and killed a lot of sheep.
Dont let that rumor get started, Lane.  If you hear anything like that, put a stop to it quick.  Dugway Proving Grounds are more than two hundred miles from here.  Even if the wind had shifted, and anything started to drift this way, the effectiveness and toxicity would have diminished to the point of nonexistence long before any agent reached here.  Besides, any chemical or biological warfare agent would have to go through Wendover and Ely, before it reached here.  We would have heard something if there had been unexplained outbreaks of extreme violence before it reached here.  Anyway, Im not even sure if that place is still open after the last round of base closings.
Trust me, Lane said, the US may have an official policy disavowing the use of chemical weapons, but the research continues, if only to develop counter measures against potential threats.
Cheryl stuck her head in from the kitchen.  If I wouldnt be disturbing you two, you want to move it over to the dining room table?  Dinner is ready.
Thanks, Hon, Lane called.  He escorted Connie the few steps necessary to reach the table and pulled her chair out for her.
Why, thank you sir, she said as she sat down.
All part of the special Mauler service, maam.  No tip required.
Before taking his own chair, Lane stuck his head into the kitchen, nearly colliding with Tutu just coming out with a hot serving platter in her hands.
Oh, scuse me, Tutu.  Anything I can do to help?
Yes, dad.  Please sit down and stay out of the kitchen.  Let me handle this, okay.
Suit yourself, Sugarplum.  He sat at Connies left and Tutu set the platter between them.  Serve yourself, folks, before it gets cold.  Theres more to come.  She disappeared into the kitchen again, returning shortly with the whipped potatoes and stir-fried vegetables.  There was also a gravy boat with dark, mushroom gravy.  Finally Tutu brought in a wine goblet identical to the ones Lane and Connie were drinking from and sat down across from Connie.  She caught her dad giving her the eye.
Dont worry, dad.  Mine is only Seven-Up.  By the way, if anyone wants a refill, Ill be happy to mix them for you.
Lane caught Connies eye.  Dont listen to her, Connie.  Tutu thinks that the proper way to mix a wine cooler is to set the mix close to the bottle and hope some will intermingle with the wine through osmosis.  On the other hand, I am a mixicologist par excellence.  If you get thirsty, just say the word.
As he talked he forked a chicken breast from the serving platter onto her plate and one for Tutu, then two for himself.  Us growing boys have got to eat more you know, but dont let that stop you.  Dig right in if you want more.  Tutu spooned whipped potatoes onto her plate and passed the dish to Connie while she went after the vegetables.  Connie added some to her plate and then passed them to Lane.  Tutu passed the vegetables to Connie who passed them to Lane in turn, then asked Tutu to pass the gravy.
Connie, try the potatoes without gravy first, wont you?  You might be surprised.  Connie picked up her fork and did so, as did Lane.
Why, these are incredible, Cheryl, Connie said.  You wont mind sharing your recipe with me, will you?
Of course, not.  You just add a quarter cup of grated cheddar cheese and half a cup of low-fat yogurt to the potatoes after draining.  Mash, and then whip well, and voila!  Its a recipe my mom taught me.
And she never made better, Sweetheart, Lane said.  But then, whats the gravy for?
Well, you can put it on your potatoes if you like, but you really ought to try it on your chicken.  Its made from golden mushroom soup.
I dont remember your mom ever making that, Lane added.
Occasionally I do read magazines, dad, his daughter said with mock haughtiness.  To Connie she said, Believe me, I do his taxes, pay the bills, and cook around here.  Do you think I get any appreciation?
I seem to remember you were driving a shiny blue mini-van at school last time I saw you.  Did you buy that yourself?  Connie smiled sweetly.
See?  You sound just like dad!  I knew you two would get along great!
Im only saying what any adult would say, Cheryl.  I think your dad does show his appreciation.  Its you who take him for granted.
Wow, dad!  Did you guys rehearse this?  She even sounds like a mom already.
Lane was practically blushing.  Lets save this discussion for another time, okay, Hon?  Say, this chicken really is great.
Thanks, dad.
For the remainder of dinner they made small talk.  Tutu was too polite and too well trained to ask about the murders.  Shortly, she went to the kitchen and brought back their desserts.  Lime gelatin with mixed fruits and topped with frothy whipping cream and nutmeg.  Lane decided to have another glass of wine and offered to mix one for Connie who accepted.
While he was in the kitchen Connie whispered to Cheryl.  I think youve embarrassed your dad enough for one night, Cheryl.  Lets not push so hard, okay?
But you do like him, dont you?  I mean, hes such a slow starter, hed never ask you for a date so Ive got to push him.
Of course, I like him.  Hes attractive, humorous, and hes done a great job of raising you.  Maybe, in time, there will develop a relationship between us, but not if you keep goading him like a horse.  Youll want to catch a man some day, and youll find its easier if you lead them like a pig.  But maybe I should let you discover that for yourself.
Ehh?  Hows that?
If you want to lead a pig to the right, you try and make him go left.  Hell fight you.  If you want him to go, try holding him in one spot.  Hell try and get away from you.  Why do you think feminists refer to men as pigs?
Gosh, youre not a feminist, are you Connie?
I am whenever a man patronizes me.  The rest of the time I prefer to assume my natural role in the scheme of things and let men adore and pamper me.  She punctuated her remark with a wink and a smile.
Lane returned with Connies drink and sat down again.  Tutu spoke up.
Well, Id like to get started on my homework for next week.  Mr. Rosen wants twenty-five hundred words on international trade and economics by Friday, and Id like to get at least half of it done over the weekend.  Im gonna hit the Internet and see what I can download.  Just leave the dishes; Ill take care of them before I go to bed.  She sprang from her seat and headed for the hallway and upstairs.  Stay cool, you two, she tossed over her shoulder as she left.
Lane and Connie sat talking quietly and finishing their wine.  When it was gone Connie said, I really dont want to leave these for Cheryl after she went to all that trouble for dinner.  Do you want to help me clear the table?
Lane quickly agreed and they carried the dishes into the kitchen.  Connie took it upon herself to open a few cupboards and found plastic tubs with lids to put the leftovers in.  Lane ran hot water in the sink and began washing the dishes.  Connie dried.  They did a lot of quiet talking and Lane was disappointed when the last of the dishes were finished and the soapy water swirled down the drain.  Connie looked at her watch and exclaimed, Its a quarter past nine!  Id no idea it was so late.  Ive got to rush, Lane.  Its a long drive back.
Sure, I understand, he said with quiet disappointment.  He walked her into the hall and began to put her coat over her shoulders.  As she turned her back to assist him she sort of stumbled and fell against him.
Say, are you sure youll be all right to drive?  We do have a spare bedroom you know.  Perhaps it would be better for you to spend the night here and drive back in the morning?
She held her hand to her head, Whew!  Ordinarily I wouldnt expect three glasses of a wine cooler to do this to me.  Perhaps I better take you up on that spare bedroom.
Lane led her upstairs stopping at Tutus room where she was still pecking away at her computer.  Tutu?  Connies going to use the spare bedroom tonight and drive home in the morning.  Wouldnt want her to get a ticket after three glasses of wine, you know?  How about lending her a nightdress and a robe and getting her some clean towels so she can use the tub?  Im sure shell feel a lot better after a long hot soak.
His daughter could barely contain her happiness.  Sure, and Ive got a wonderful bath oil thatll really put you in the mood, Connie.  For sleep, I mean.  Relax you so you can sleep the night away.
Thanks, Cheryl.  I dont mean to be a bother, but the wine sort of sneaked up on me just as I was about ready to leave.
Think nothing of it, Connie.  She went to her closet and grabbed a few items and then led Connie to the spare bedroom while shooing her dad back down stairs.  Go!  I can give her all the help she needs.  Werent you going to make some calls and line up a search party for in the morning?
Oh, yeah.  Thanks for reminding me.  I dont think its too late to call a few people.  Ill get right on it.
Men! Tutu snorted.  How would they ever get along without us? she said to Connie.
Im not sure, but I sincerely hope they never try.
Tutu filled a bath for Connie and set out half a dozen candles and some scented bath oil.  She left Connie to fend for herself and went back to her room where she gathered notes for her essay and put them in a drawer.  She shut down her computer and went down stairs.  Her dad was still on the phone so she went to the kitchen and filled two cups with milk and a powdered chocolate drink and nuked them in the microwave.  She heard her dad finish and went to talk with him before he began another.
Connies in the tub now, dad, and Im fixing hot chocolate for both of us.  After I take hers up Im going to call it a night.  Ill be up early and make breakfast for you.  By the way, thanks for clearing the table and doing the dishes.
It was her idea, he said.
Well, thanks just the same.  Just then the microwave went ding!  Tutu put her hands on her dads shoulders and kissed him on the cheek,  Gnite, dad.  See you at the breakfast table.
Sleep well, Pumpkin.  And thanks for dinner tonight.  We both enjoyed it very much.
Anytime, dad, Tutu said with a smile as she went back to the kitchen to fetch the hot chocolate.  Lane went back to his telephone calls and simply waved to her as she passed through with the chocolate and headed up the stairs.
He made a total of eleven calls and got fifteen volunteers to agree to meet him at Arts Exxon at seven in the morning.  Several of the people he called said they would bring a nephew or a friend to assist, and three agreed to meet out at Espositos immediately following church.  Lane was pleased with himself.  He glanced at the LED panel on the printer/fax machine and saw that it was close to ten-thirty.  Time to call it a night, he told himself.
He checked the doors to the back porch and the kitchen and made sure they were locked.  He stirred up the airtight stove again and added half a bucket of coal.  Then he locked the front door and went upstairs to his room.
The upstairs was quiet.  Tutus room was at the end of the hall, across from the guestroom.  The bath was between his room and Tutus.  He went to his room and hung up his sweater and shirt and then went to the bath to brush his teeth.  It was funny the way three wine coolers had hit Connie so suddenly, but thankfully she hadnt insisted on driving home this late.  He would like to see more of her in the future, but not spread out on the pavement somewhere or on a slab in the morgue.  He left a nightlight burning in the bath and went back to his room, stripped off his pants and hung them up then climbed in bed.  Before going to sleep he set his alarm for six and then pulled the blankets up to his chin.
The sheets chilled his body momentarily but they soon warmed up and he drifted off in to a warm and pleasant void filled with shiny red lips, white teeth, and sensuous eyes.  He had no idea what time it was when he first became aware of something soft and warm curled up against his backside.  At first it was a strange sensation but then he associated it with memories he had put behind him just two short years ago.  He rolled over and took Connie in his arms.  She was naked from head to foot.
She sighed softly as he began to stroke her back, her buttocks and her thighs.  When his fingers reached that warm, moist spot between her legs she arched her back and pressed firmly against him.
Youre wearing shorts, she whispered.
I wasnt expecting company, he replied.
Do you want me to leave? she asked.
Just let me get out of these shorts, he said.


Chapter 4

Later they made spoons and he held her in his arms, cupping her firm breasts in his hand.  They were not large, he wouldnt describe them as ample, but they felt comfortable.
I really wasnt the least tipsy, you know, she said.
Just horny, huh?
Well, you neednt put it so crudely, but yes.  I could tell you wanted me, even though you behaved like a perfect gentleman, and I wanted you too.  To me, it was obvious you would never make the first move, even with Cheryls nudging, so I had to set my cap for you.  Im glad you offered the spare bedroom.
Maybe Im slow, like Tutu says?
But you can be sure Im not, she grinned.
She didnt wake up when you came down the hall, did she?
I dont think so, but I wouldnt worry if I were you.  Shes not a virgin, you know.
Lane nearly shouted out loud.  What!
Keep your voice down, Lane.  Shes nearly sixteen.  She grew up in the California beach scene where bikinis and less are the norm.  Why are you so surprised?
I dont know.  Its just that we dont have many secrets between us and I sort of figured that when it happened
Well, few teenage girls discuss their sex lives with their parents, but I qualify as a friend.  Isnt that nice?
What did she tell you?
None of your business.  What she told me was girl talk, between two friends.  If she thinks Ill rat on her for every little thing, shell never be my friend.  Shes not a slut, she knows how to use protection, and venereal diseases scare her silly.  Shes just a normal, healthy girl, but brighter than most girls her age.  Now just let it drop and you can still think of her as your little girl, if itll make you feel better.  She nudged him with her elbow.  Now give me some room and let me up.  I cant spend the night here.  Ive got to go back to my room.
So soon? he asked.  I thought you said not to worry?
She rolled over and felt his hardness with her delicate hand.  Its okay for her to think that were making love, but not to have proof in glorious living color when she sees me coming out of your room in the morning.  She has a right to expect that her dad will get married again before he brings another woman into his house; her house too! 
Dont take this wrong, Lane asked, but what does a terrific looking, intelligent, and self-assured lady doctor see in a tired old lawman like myself? 
Youre pretty good looking too, Lane, she said while her fingers traced the curve of his chin, and self-assured.  Unlike most of the men I meet, you dont seem to go out of your way to prove your masculinity and virility to every woman you take a fancy to.  She pressed her breasts against his chest as she squeezed his scrotum.  Umm, you smell good too.  Maybe we can squeeze in a quickie but then I have to go back to my room.  
She purred as his questing fingers played in the downy soft hair between her thighs.  They came together almost frantically as he drove his hardness into her warmth.  He guessed that perhaps it had been nearly as long for her as it had been for him, but their lovemaking the second time was anything but a quickie.  Some time later as he lay spent and panting, he felt her leave the bed.  She planted a chaste kiss on his temple and said, Sleep well, Lane.
He had almost expected her to say, I love you, but she didnt.  He had felt like telling her the same thing but he held back.  This isnt love; this is two adults of the opposite sex enjoying each others company for an evening.  Perhaps, in time, their relationship would grow, but it wasnt something that required a commitment right this moment.  He was glad she understood that.  She was quite a woman.  She would be a good friend, and, with luck, maybe more.
*     *     *
It was still dark outside when his alarm went off.  He quickly shut it off, grabbed a robe and went downstairs to switch on the coffee machine.  Then he went back upstairs to shave and brush his teeth.  Next he dressed in his khakis and took his parka out of his closet.  The temperature hovered right around the freezing mark and it would still be cool when he met the rest of the search party down at Arts Exxon.
When he next went downstairs to the kitchen, he found Tutu in robe and slippers busy at the stove.  Morning, Sleepy head.  You managed to wake up yet?
But of course, mon pere, she said.  Pour yourself a cup of coffee and grab a chair.  Breakfast is ready.  She slid a bowl of oatmeal in front of him and followed that with a saucer holding two slices of wheat toast.
When did I go on a diet? he asked.
When Connie decided to spend the night with us.  I dont want her coming down and finding me serving you bacon and eggs and fried potatoes.  Shed be sure to lecture me about the harmful effects of cholesterol.  Anyway, youll notice I added sliced bananas and peaches to your oatmeal.  Thatll perk up your spirits.
Speaking of the lady doctor, will she be joining us?
I rather doubt it, dad.  Let her get her beauty sleep, not that she needs it.  It was after four before she headed back to her room this morning.  Are you really that good?
No comment, he said, embarrassed to discuss the topic with her.  Since when did you become so observant?
I wasnt checking up on you, or her.  I just got up to go pee and saw that her bed was empty.  It was about four then so I figure it must have been later before you two said goodnight.
Well, he said, let her sleep as long as she likes.  She doesnt have to work today, not that I know of, but she still has a long drive to get back.  And dont go embarrassing her when she does get up.  Okay?
And scare away your best prospect?  Not me, dad.
While Lane ate his oatmeal and toast Tutu filled his thermos.  When he had finished he put his dishes and silverware in the sink and went into his office to put on his weapon and leather.  Connie was just coming down the stairs.
Good morning, Lane.  Are you and Tutu always such early risers?
Oh, glad to see you before I left.  No, Sunday usually finds us both slug-a-bed, but Ive got to coordinate a search party this morning and try and locate Arturo.  Or his body, he added glumly.
Oh, then youve already had breakfast?  I was hoping to impress you with my seldom used talents in the kitchen.
Lane lowered his voice to a whisper.  If they are half as good as the talents you demonstrated last night, I wont be disappointed.  Then, in a tone loud enough for Tutu to hear, he added, Tutu fixed me some oatmeal and wheat toast to go with my coffee.  Ive had plenty.  But you can ask her for anything you like.  I know youll be gone before I get back; take all the time you like.  Im sure Tutu would appreciate the company.  Well, he picked up his parka and thermos and headed for the front door, I better get going.
She snaked an arm around his neck before he could get past her.  Dont I even get a goodbye kiss?
He responded by slipping his thermos under the arm holding his parka and putting his free hand around her waist.  He bent his head to hers and did his best to deliver a kiss on par with her performance last night.  She didnt object and used both her arms to control the length of their kiss.  As they pulled apart she whispered, Can I call you?
I hope you will, he said.  Gotta go now.  He patted his pocket to make sure he had his keys and pocketknife then headed out the door and into his county vehicle.
A light rime of ice covered the windshield of his blue and white so he started the engine before getting out the deicing spray and spraying the glass.  The windshield wipers cleared a patch and he turned the defroster up to high even though he knew it would be awhile before the engine was warm enough to do any good.
When he arrived at Arts he pulled up to the gas island and topped off his tank.  Inside, Ruthie had his fuel ticket ready for him to sign.  Later she would add it to the account they kept for county vehicles.  Lane noticed that a few more packets of Granny Tituss Paiute Potpourri had been sold.  He asked Ruthie, Is Granny Titus a real person, or is that just a brand name?  
Oh, shes real, all right, a full-blooded Paiute living down the road a couple of miles.  She was married to one of the miners who worked here, but he ran off and left her when the mine closed.  She gets a small retirement check from the mine cause she worked in their bookkeeping department for years, but they never did pay much for Indian help.  Nowadays she makes a few extra dollars with this herbal tea.  Claims its an old recipe of some Indian medicine man.  A couple of the businesses in town let her put up these displays, then collect the money and give it to her when she comes around every other month or so.  Nice old lady, Im sure youll agree when youve had a chance to meet her.
Ill look forward to it, he said.
Lane gathered up the rest of the members of his search party and led them outside.  Several of them were carrying rifles or wearing pistols.
Now look, he told them.  Were going to be looking for Arturo Esposito.  I doubt if hes armed, he may not even be alive.  Id appreciate it if youd all leave your firearms in your vehicles when we get there.  I wouldnt like to see anyone hurt by an accidental discharge, and Im sure you wouldnt either.
They piled into the several cars they had come in and he led them in a convoy out to the Esposito ranch.  When they arrived he explained that they would begin by searching the area within twenty-five hundred yards of the trailer, and they should look for either the boys body, or any signs or tracks, footprints, anything that might indicate that the boy was still alive but had gone into hiding.  He organized a pattern and led them off.
Two hours later the sun had warmed the valley considerably and Lane tossed his parka into his car.  They had canvassed the immediate area with negative results.  As Indian trackers, the group had a lot to learn.  His three latecomers had arrived from town and he added them to his group.  He had a total of sixteen men which he divided into four groups, taking one for himself and appointing group leaders for the other three.  He assigned them sectors and sent them out again with instructions to assemble back at the trailer by four.  The sun would set shortly after that and he didnt want to have to send a search party out after lost searchers.  
When they had all returned, results were still negative.  He thanked them for their help and said hed contact the sheriffs office in Tonopah for volunteers to continue the search on Monday since many of the locals had jobs and couldnt afford to take the day off.
It was a quarter past five when he arrived home.  By that time he was starving since he had worked straight through lunch.  He had no sooner opened the door than a heavenly aroma that filled the house greeted his nose.  Tutu was sprawled on the living room sofa watching a movie on the tube.
Hi, babe!  What smells so good?
I stuck a pot roast in the slow cooker just after noon.  I figured youd probably work up quite an appetite while you were out today.  Any luck?
Not a bit.  Im going to have to call Tonopah for additional help tomorrow.
That reminds me, Tutu said, Mr. Denton called for you a couple of times.  I told him you were out with a search party.  He wants you to call him.
Okay, Ill do it now.  You want to dish up dinner?  Ill be with you as soon as I get off the phone.
Sure, dad.  She clicked the remote and the TV went off.  While she headed for the kitchen Lane went into his office and dialed the main station in Tonopah.  The duty officer gave him Dentons home number and hinted that he might want to sit down when he talked to the under-sheriff.  Lane was already sitting when he dialed Dentons home.  Denton answered on the second ring.
Its me, Deputy Mauler.  I got a message to call you.
Youre darn right you did.  Why couldnt I reach you on your radio today?  I called your house twice and your daughter told me you werent at home.
I had a search party out at the Esposito place looking for the boy.  We were away from the unit on foot most of the day.  No luck.
Well, let me tell you, this has got a pretty high priority here in the head shed.  The sheriff is quite disappointed after that thing with Winscott, and now this happens.  They got an FBI task in Reno calling about every twenty minutes to see if weve found any sign of Dumont.  The feds seem to think anything more serious than jay-walking and he might be involved in it.
But, Winscott was ruled a probable suicide.  There was no evidence to follow up.  Doc Conried said he had a history of drugs and alcohol abuse and we chalked it up to delirium tremens.
That may be, but the preliminary reports from the morgue indicate that alcohol was not a factor in this Esposito thing.  Now what have you got?
Truthfully, nothing more than the suppositions Im sure Josiah Snow already filled you in on.  We spent all day searching within two miles of the Esposito trailer, and found no sign of the kid.  If hes dead, we havent found a trace of the body yet, no blood, and no other signs of foul play.  If hes still alive, he must be hiding somewhere.  Perhaps hes afraid hell get this blamed on him?
What have you got planned for tomorrow?
Id like to have a helicopter for at least part of the day, to scout the area from above and look for signs of a campfire.  Maybe we can get forestry to help us out on that?  And Ill need some foot troops on the ground.  Most of the men I used today have jobs and need to work tomorrow.
Okay, Mauler.  Look, write up a report on what you did today, and where you searched, so we wont have to cover that ground again tomorrow.  FAX me a request for air support and well borrow something from the state.  Look, he went on, Im sure you did everything and you touched all the bases, but, the sheriff has an election coming up in just eleven more months and he doesnt want the rest of the county getting the idea that weve got some crazed psycho running around loose up here.
Thats preposterous! Lane told him, almost shouting.  We have no indication that Dumont or anyone else was involved in either of these occurrences.  What does the old man expect me to do?  Invent a suspect?
You dont have to.  The media have already picked up on this and theyre laying it all at Dumonts doorstep.  The Mad Mountain Man, theyre calling him.  I ask you, have you ever heard such trash?
Must be a slow day for news, Lane told him.  Whered they come up with that one?
Seems there have been a couple other unexplained deaths in the past couple decades.  One in eighty-seven just a little north of Belmont, and a young couple camping in eighty-one, south of Round Mountain.  Then there was one in seventy-eight, and a couple hunters in seventy-four.  None of them are connected as far as we know, but all were recorded in the press.  Similar circumstances.  Somebody goes wacko and kills someone and then himself, or just wigs out and kills himself in isolated circumstances.
That still doesnt mean that theres a connection.  No footprints, no tire prints, no fingerprints, and no witnesses.  And Dumont was only in grade school that far back.
Yeah, about like UFO reports, but we get those all the time too.  Look, the sheriff and I will deal with the press and the TV guys, you just do your best work and dont talk to any of them without clearance from topside.  Can do?
Yes, sir.  You can depend on me.
Okay, FAX that paperwork to me and Ill have the troops report to you by oh-eight-hundred tomorrow.
Why not ask them to meet me at Arts Exxon?  Its the easiest place in town to find and I can take them from there out to Espositos.
Done! Denton said.  Anything more?
No, sir.  Ill be on top of it.
Okay, Mauler.  Nice talking with you.  He hung up.
Lane set the phone back in the cradle and went into the kitchen to set down at the table.  Well, Im glad to see you could finally join me, Tutu said.  I was afraid it was going to get cold.
Lane looked down at his plate.  His mouth watered with anticipation just looking at the thickly sliced roast beef, boiled potatoes, carrots, peas, and green beans on the side.  All were covered with rich brown gravy.  In front of him was the ever-present coffee cup, filled to the brim with steaming liquid.  She had also set out some French bread, sliced and toasted with butter and Romano cheese on top.
Sorry to take so long, Tutu.  Had to get my butt chewed.  The brass says that the media is concocting some story about a Mad Mountain Man and headquarters wants to get this case closed to put a stop to the rumors.
Well, they cant expect you to invent a suspect, dad.
Thats what I said.  He took a bite of potato on his fork and marveled at the aroma of the gravy she had made.  He wolfed it down and then began digging in with gusto.  Soon he was wiping up the last of the gravy with toast and asking for seconds.
I guess I sort of worked up an appetite hiking in the mountains today, he said.
No matter, dad.  The best compliment you can pay a cook is to ask for seconds.
Well, you sure earned the compliments.  Say, how did you and Connie get along today?
Do I detect a note of eagerness there, dad?
Lets just say that Im looking forward to seeing her sooner, rather than later."
I saw you smooching just before you left.  Connie came in right afterwards.  I fixed her French toast with marmalade and coffee.  She left about eight-thirty.
So, what did you do today?
Believe it or not, I really do have an essay that I have to turn in by Friday.  I spent most of the day working on that until my eyes began turning to a frazzle in front of the computer, so I came down here to watch the tube and give my mind a break.
Cathartic, he said.  I think thats what most of the viewers have in mind when they turn on the tube.  Puts their mind at rest and distracts them from day to day life.  I cant really believe they watch that garbage the networks serve up.  If it wasnt for the movies on the premium satellite channels, I wouldnt be able to find a thing to watch.
Most of the rest of the world doesnt have your high intellectual standards, dad.
Are you patronizing me? he asked.
Mais non, mon Pere.  Its just that you really do have something between your ears.  Most of the soaps and sitcoms on TV are just a soporific, merchandising showcases for the sponsors.
When did you become such a cynic, Little Girl?
Phooey with you, she told him.  When is the last time you saw me watching a sitcom or MTV?
Ill bet you watch them all the time when Im not around, he teased.
Youre looking for a knuckle sandwich, arent you, dad?
He was interrupted in his reply by the ringing of the telephone.  Since Tutu had finished her dinner she jumped up to answer it.  Perhaps hoping it would be a boy, he wondered?  Small chance, there werent more than one or two in her age group in Valley Forks.  Suddenly he had a discouraging thought that she might have set her cap for someone older.
Dad, he heard her call.  Its for you!  Better make sure youre shaved and youve got your shirt tucked in.  Its Connie.  She smiled when he took the phone from her.
Hi, he answered.
Is your shirt tucked in? Connie teased.  I heard Cheryl when she called you, she explained.
No, come to think of it, Ive been working on my truck, and my shirt is covered with grease and even has holes in one or two places.  It matches my socks.
Am I interrupting anything?
No, merely rescuing me.  Tutus been sticking me with pins ever since I got home.  Claims you are absolutely the worst house guest weve ever had and says she never wants to see you again.
Hmm, that wasnt the impression I got before I left this morning.
Im only kidding.  Im glad you called.  Whats up?
Well, I went to the office today to try and keep caught up on my work.  I did a tox screen on blood samples from the Esposito family.  All of them were under the influence of some hallucinogenic.  From the analysis, if I had to guess, Id say peyote, or something like it but about a dozen times as strong.
You dont say, he commented.  The little girl too?
Trace amounts, but yes, her too.  Manuel had the most show up in his blood.
We are pretty sure that none of them are dopers, so how would it get in their blood stream?  If their sheep had been grazing on peyote out in the hills somewhere, and if Manuel were to butcher one that he was culling from the flock, could they have gotten it that way?
Not unless that sheep had eaten half a ton of the stuff.  Peyote only stays in the system a short time before its eliminated.  It would take quite a large amount to build up to the point that it wouldnt be oxidized during the cooking process.  I think thats a highly unlikely speculation, though Im not saying its impossible.
Just unlikely.  He rolled a few other possibilities around in his mind.  Did you do any blood samples on the Winscott case?
Only the standard test for blood alcohol.  No toxins.
Is it too late to run any toxicology tests?  Dont you coroners keep tissue samples frozen in questionable cases?
As a matter of fact, we do.  Ill run a screen this afternoon and get back to you.  Anything else?
Yeah, a whole lot else, but it wouldnt do any good to ask with you all the way up the road in Tonopah.
Ill be in Valley Forks Friday.  Its my regular day for the clinic there.
Will you be spending the night?
I usually drive back home, but it seems such a waste since I just have to drive back again on Saturday.
Suppose you let me fix you dinner here instead of going back to Tonopah?
I thought youd never ask.  Shall I bring a bottle of wine?
We have some in the pantry.  Both red and white.
Can I bring something for dinner?
Sure, a hefty appetite.  When I put a steak on the barbecue its a treat youll never regret.
Ill see you at six, okay?  If I get away earlier, Ill give you a call.  Let me run now so I can check out the Winscott samples.
Ill look forward to seeing you Friday.  Kisses to you.
Kiss back, she said as she hung up.
Lane, old boy, he told himself, you are definitely making the right kind of progress with this lady.  But he wondered if that was what he really wanted.  It hadnt been that long since Anne had been taken from him.
Well, why shouldnt he?  While he knew he wasnt ready to jump into marriage just yet, he had already decided that he valued Connie as a friend, and as a bed-partner, and he was happy that she and Tutu were becoming good friends.  Maybe things would work out even better.
Monday morning arrived too early as far as Lane was concerned.  Hed spent the evening hours writing up the details of the search theyd conducted, and made a separate request for aerial reconnaissance the next day.  Both of those hed faxed to HQ before nine in the evening, then he surfed the satellite channels hoping for a movie.  He found one with John Wayne playing the part of a German sea captain just as World War II was breaking out.  The premise was a highly unlikely one for the Duke so he watched it to the end and went to bed just after eleven.
Tutu had fixed oatmeal for breakfast again.  Maybe she really was taking his diet seriously.  He enjoyed the sliced peaches she added and ended by asking for seconds.  She grabbed her keys and headed out the door.  For the umpteenth time he congratulated himself on having such a wonderful daughter.  Then he grabbed his parka, the thermos shed filled, and his leather and drove his blue and white down to Arts.
Four units were parked in front and twelve deputies from Tonopah having breakfast and coffee already.  He decided to stay long enough for a cup of coffee to allow any stragglers to show up.  He soon regretted his mistake.  Five minutes later a TV van from a Vegas station pulled into Arts and stopped for gas.  While the driver filled the tank an eager newswoman came into the restaurant and asked Art who the man in charge was.  Lane could see Art point him out and the young woman headed straight for him.  Lane figured it was too late to make a try for the back door.
Deputy Mauler? the petite blonde asked.  Pam Demming, KVGS news.  She extended her hand and Lane shook it perfunctorily.  She was already reaching her other hand into her car coat and pulling out a pad and pencil.  Can you bring us up to date concerning the killings yesterday?
I hate to say no comment Miss Demming, but I have my orders from headquarters in Tonopah.  Why dont you try the public information officer there?
Because Im not interested in the same tired old press releases, deputy.  I have thousands of viewers who want to get the story behind the killings.  Is it true that you have a suspect in mind?  A convict who escaped in Idaho recently?  Weve heard that there were drugs involved in the killing back in August?  Do you suspect a connection with that killing and the drug trade in Las Vegas?
I wouldnt know anything about the drug trade in Las Vegas, Lane said moodily.  My jurisdiction ends at the county line.  And no, we havent identified a suspect yet.  What youve heard is simply speculation by other news persons who are trying to flesh out a story where there simply isnt one.
She scribbled a note here and there on her pad.  Then would it be accurate to say that the NCSO has no leads and are so far stumped in the matter of this string of killings?
You can say anything you like as long as you dont refer to me by name, or any other euphemism such as an informed source or reliable source or whatever your current tag is.  I have no comment, and thats official.
She decided to forego the direct and businesslike approach and took another tack.  She put away her pad and her composure softened visibly.  Well, I can understand the way you feel, deputy.  Im sure your job is difficult enough without having every media snoop in the state looking over your shoulder and trying for the big scoop.  Im only trying to do my job, you know.  If I could really tie this into something big, I might have a shot at the networks.
Really, Miss Demming, I prefer the professional approach.  Sweetness and light with a hint of something else doesnt cut any ice with me.  Now, if youll excuse me?  He stood up and grabbed his hat.  Okay, all you deputies, were going to be heading north about six miles.  Then well turn left to a little place about two miles off the main road.  Im driving unit seven-one-nine and were using tac three for today.  Follow me and if any of you get lost, just holler on the radio.  Okay?  Lets go.
He dropped a bill on the table to pay for his coffee then headed out the door and jumped into his blue and white.  He backed out of the parking area then pulled ahead and off to the side of the road, waiting to give the rest of the men time to pay their tabs and get out to their units.  At least he had left La Demming behind.  Two minutes later he was heading north.
The four other cars kept up and were still behind him when he turned into Espositos place.  He drove them up to the trailer then stopped and got out of his car.  He placed a forestry service map on the warm hood of his Blazer and gathered his men around.  
Listen up, he said.  We searched this area yesterday.  He drew a broad circle around the spot on the map where they were now located.  Were looking for the body of a fourteen year old boy, or any sign that the boy may have been alive and made it out of this area on foot.  It was cold last night.  Look for signs of a campfire.  Look for any place where he may have scraped together some branches or pine needles to make a bed during the night.  Dont go climbing rocks and playing mountain goat.  If the boy, Arturo Esposito is his name, is still alive, hell be using a trail to get somewhere.  Where, we dont know.  But hes not going to dig a hole and pull it in after him.  He pointed at two men, Youll be team Alpha.  Take off in this direction here.  Work left and right of this line, he sketched on the map, for about three miles.  By that time, if we havent found him, you radio back to me for further instructions.  Got that?  The men nodded and he sent them off.
Swiftly he designated five other two-man teams and gave them a sector to search.    As best as he could tell, he was dividing and searching the most likely routes of egress.  There wasnt much more he could do.  Call in and request dogs maybe?  Too early, he decided.  Wait and see if any of the teams cuts any sign.  His radio crackled and he got behind the wheel to answer it.
This is Nye seven-one-nine responding, he said.
Seven-one-nine, this is Air three.  I am circling above Valley Forks at this time.  Do you have instructions for me?
Lane turned to the south and caught sight of the Hughes 500 helicopter at about fifteen hundred feet above the ground.  He keyed his mike.  Roger, Air three.  You are south of me about six miles.  I am at your four oclock right now.  Come north until youre over my position.  Copy?
Affirmative, seven-one-nine.  Ill be there in four minutes.
Okay, three.  When you reach this spot, begin circling outward in a spiraling search pattern.  Were looking for a fourteen year old boy, or any sign of a camp or campfire where he might have spent the night.  I have six search teams out now, Alpha through Foxtrot.  They are all on this frequency.  If we spot anything you can drop in for a closer look.
Wilco, seven-one-nine.  I have your unit in sight at this time.  I can only stay on station for just under two hours, then Ill have to hop over the mountains to refuel.
Understand, Air three.  Please keep me advised.  Out.  With that, Lane settled back and poured a cup of coffee from his thermos.  He had deployed his troops to the best of his ability, now all he could do was wait for results.  A glance in his rear view mirror showed the KVGS news van coming up the dirt track.  Pam Demming stepped down just as he got out of the blue and white unit.
Perhaps we got off to a bad start, deputy, she said.
I dont think so, Miss Demming.  I know that you have a job to do, and so do I.  Right now Im heading up a search for a missing fourteen-year-old boy.  And Im following instructions from my headquarters not to talk to the press, or TV, he said with a nod toward the cameraman who had also climbed out of the van and was taking aim on them now, without express approval from them.  So, like I said before, no comment.  Now why dont you see what you can find out from the PIO?
The newswoman turned to her cameraman while making a slashing motion across her throat.  Okay, I can live with that.  Sorry if I overstepped the line back in the coffee shop.  This is where it happened, isnt it?  Can we look in the trailer?
Yes, this is where it happened.  Yes, you can look in the trailer, but dont set one foot inside.  I dont want you contaminating my crime scene.
Fair enough, she said.  She grabbed her assistant and they went as far as the sliding glass doors opening into the front room of the trailer.  Even though the bodies had been removed, the blood and signs of a struggle remained.  Evidently she thought that would be worth putting on the air for she had her cameraman shoot several minutes worth of tape.  She could always edit it with a voice over back in the studio.  She left her cameraman and returned to where Lane was standing and drinking his coffee.
Okay, off the record.  Nothing leaves this spot.  I just want to get my facts straight so as not to start, or spread, any of those rumors you alluded to earlier.  What can you tell me?  She waited for a response from Lane.  Getting none she continued.  I heard it was a man and his wife, early to mid-thirties.  And a young girl, Maria was her name, I think.
That much is correct, Lane said.  Remember, this is strictly off the record, for background only.  Right?
Check! she agreed.
The names are Manuel and Isabella Esposito and their young daughter, Maria.  We think Manuel flipped out and bludgeoned his little girl with a piece of firewood.  The wife tried to intervene and he struck her also.  She responded with a rifle, blowing a hole in his guts.  Manuel didnt die right away.  He grabbed the rifle away from his wife, bludgeoned her to death with it, and collapsed on top of her.  Theres a fourteen-year-old boy also.  We dont believe hes involved but we havent been able to locate him.  Naturally were hoping that hes still alive, perhaps hiding somewhere nearby afraid he may be blamed for at least a part of this.  He decided not to mention that Connie had found traces of a hallucinogen in all of the deceased.
God!  What a mess, deputy.  No wonder you dont want to talk about it.  From the amount of blood I saw in the trailer, this must not have been a pretty scene to stumble into.
Death never is, he told her.  But you learn to work around the ugliness while you aim at solving the crime.
So there is no escaped convict?
A suspect did escape from custody in Idaho but we have no indication that he is in this area, he said while draining the last of his coffee.
She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and offered one to him.  He looked at the pack she held out.  It sure would be nice to hold a cigarette in his fingers, to pull the smoke deep into his lungs and feel the stress melt away from him.  But he had been able to say No, for more than fourteen years, he could say No, again.  He shook his head and she lit one for herself.  Mind if we hang around awhile?  Perhaps one of the search teams will come up with something.
Its a free country, he said.  Lane checked his watch.  The search teams had only been out about forty-five minutes but he decided he would call for situation reports anyway.  He went back to his unit and got on the radio again.  Alpha, this is seven-one-nine.  What is your situation?  Over
After a moments pause, a voice crackled over the radio.  This is Alpha.  Weve just cleared the area searched yesterday and are beginning to move up the dry wash into our own search area.  Nothing to report yet.  Over
Lane thanked them and contacted each of the remaining units in order.  Lastly he contacted the chopper.
This is Air three.  Negative report at this time but were keeping it pretty low and slow so as not to miss too much.  Well be standing by.  Over.
Lane signed off and sat back while he studied his map.  If the kid headed northeast he would eventually end up in Eureka and could cross over into Utah.  Or he could head northwest and reach Austin, then continue on into Fallon and up to Reno.  Why didnt the poor fool just stay here and let the sheriffs department look after him.  Fear, Lane answered himself.  The kids scared hell be in a heap of trouble.  Or guilt.  A fourteen-year-old is quite capable of pointing a rifle at an adult and pulling the trigger.  But why beat his mother and little sister?  Or did Manuel do the beating and Arturo only try to stop his father?  There were too many questions and too few answers.  Lane poured another cup of coffee and sat back for a long wait.  If they hadnt come up with anything by this evening, hed call off the search and post the boy as missing.  Without further clues there wasnt much else which could be done.
At ten-thirty Air three called to advise him that they were returning to base to refuel.  They would be back following a lunch break.  Lane looked at his watch and realized that he had neglected to bring anything to eat with him.  After yesterday, he should have known better.  
In the goat shed the milk-goats were bleating and stomping.  Probably their udders hurt, he thought.  Guess I could milk them and at least have some nourishing milk to drink.  He thought better of it when he imagined how that might look on the six oclock news.  He decided to sit tight in his vehicle.
At eleven-thirty, team Charlie, west of him, called to say they had found the ashes of a small fire among some rocks.  It appeared the boy, or someone at least, had recently bedded down at that spot, scraping together a heap of pine needles and sleeping between the fire and the rocks.
Bright kid, Lane thought.  Keep warm with the fire in front, and let the heat reflected from the rocks keep him warm in back.  He suspected the kid had camped out on many occasions.  Neither of the two searchers was proficient enough to hazard a guess in which direction the unknown camper had left the area, or give an accurate guess as to how old the ashes could be.
Maybe a day, maybe a week, deputy.  Hard to tell.
Okay, Lane said.  Continue sweeping your area.  If none of the other teams find anything, perhaps I can get us a Paiute tracker tomorrow and see what he can make of the area.  Lane used a grease pencil to make a small X on his map indicating the reported position of the campfire.
Air three returned at one oclock and remained in the area until nearly three.  By that time low, scudding clouds were moving down from the northwest and Lane decided he better call in his teams.  It would take them nearly two hours to return to base and it could even be raining by that time.  He didnt want to have to contend with hypothermia amongst his search teams.  He recalled the old saw attributed to Mark Twain who had once edited a newspaper in Virginia City.  Or was it Carson City?  Twain had quipped, If you dont like the weather in Nevada, stick around for about twenty minutes; itll change.
Here it was late November.  On occasion this area had seen a foot or more of snow by this time, though mid-to-late February was more common.  Lane was sure those people who warned of global warming had their theories skewed.  It seemed like every year some place in the world was reporting record-breaking winters with temperatures and snowfall that hadnt been seen in more than a hundred years.  
On the other hand, mankind had only been keeping records for a few hundred years.  Hardly the blink of an eye compared to the age of the earth and the sun.  Who could really say?  Not a broken down, has been, Long Beach cop, he admitted.
By four oclock the news crew had left him on his own.  Shortly after, his search teams came straggling in.  As soon as they had a carload they left the area, anxious to stop at Arts for something hot to eat before making the long trip back to Tonopah.  At five oclock his last team came in.  Lane thanked them for their efforts and sent them off with best wishes.  He climbed in his unit and headed for home.
Tutus car was pulled up under the carport and he pulled in just behind her.  She was watching the news when he went into the house.
Whats for dinner, Hon?  Im starved again.
I hope so.  How about a big helping of scalloped potatoes with cheddar cheese and ham?  Green beans cooked with sliced almonds on the side?
I say bring it on, and plenty of it.  But Id have settled for warming up last nights pot roast.
Tutu was strangely quiet but he let it go as he stripped off his weapon and leather and hung them over the chair in his office.  He called Noah Denton and gave him the news.  If you want to send an Indian tracker down tomorrow, Noah, he can start where we found the remains of that campfire and see where that takes him.
No, I think well let this one be, Lane.  The kid is either long gone, or hes dead and buried.  Sorry you went to so much trouble for nothing.
Well, I wouldnt exactly call it nothing, its a job that needed doing.  Im just sorry we didnt have better results.
I know how you feel, Lane.  Its a fact the world is built on sad endings.  Gives us something to hope for, you know?  Maybe the next time well have reason to smile.
Yeah.  Next time, Lane said.  He hung up the phone and went in to eat dinner.
Tutu was already seated at the table and feeding herself slowly.  Why the sour puss, Tutu?
Oh, nothing, dad.  Just hoping that Turo had something to eat today and will find a warm place to sleep tonight.
Commendable that you should be concerned.  I hope hell turn up before something happens.  Something worse, I mean.
Dad, what could be worse than having your whole family wiped out while you watched?  She set her fork down with a clatter that stunned Lane.
He chewed another bite and swallowed.  Is there something you want to talk about, Cheryl Ann?
A guilty expression crossed her face.  Yes, there is.  I guess I cant put it off much longer.
Oh, Christ, no! Lane thought.  Shes pregnant!  How could that happen in this tiny town without him knowing?  Who could the father be?
Tutu raised her voice and said, You better come in now.  She turned her head toward the door that led to the pantry and the back porch beyond.  The door creaked opened slowly.  Oddly, Lane caught himself thinking that hed better spray that hinge with a little oil before he went to bed.  Suddenly he was looking at a frightened young boy wearing a long sleeved woolen shirt, blue jeans, and hiking boots.
Arturo!  Youre safe, he said, nearly knocking over his chair as he ran to grab hold of the boy.  Arturo was frightened and looked as though he was about to bolt for the door and get out of here as fast as his legs could carry him.  Well, thank goodness Cheryl Ann isnt pregnant Lane thought.
Shh, shh, shh, Lane tried to calm him.  Youre not in any trouble with us boy.  We just want to help you, and to find out what happened out at your place.  Here, come sit and lets get you something to eat and drink.  Lane all but forced Arturo into a chair while yelling at Tutu to get something to feed the boy.
Dad, dont worry.  Arturos already eaten.  And he was very hungry too.  He finished the pot-roast and washed it down with two glasses of milk.  He was hiding near the parking lot at school and waiting for me to come out to my car.  When I did, he scared me half to death before he could make me understand that all he wanted was to come home with me and turn himself in to you.  Oh, that and a little food too.  He hadnt eaten since yesterday and it was below freezing in the mountains last night.
Ill bet he was cold, Lane said.  Well, get him some coffee or something then.  Can you make hot chocolate for him?  He can tell me what happened while I eat because Im still starving.
While Lane ate, Arturo recounted how short tempered his father had been at dinner two nights earlier, and how his mother had been acting strangely also.  When he had gone out side to wash his boots off the next thing he knew he could hear his little sister screaming.  He ran back to the trailer, reaching it just as he heard a shot and then he saw his father take the rifle from his mother and beat her to death with it.
You poor boy, it must have frightened you terribly.  And then you hid because you thought my dad would blame you.  Tutu was showing her maternal feelings at an early age.
You dont have any thing at all to worry about, Arturo.  We had pretty much guessed what had happened and were only looking for you to confirm the story and fill in any blank spots.  You wont be in any trouble with anyone as far as the law is concerned.  Tutu, he said to his daughter, isnt there some pie left from a few days ago?
Sure, dad, banana crme.  Want some Turo?  The way the boy smiled was clearly a yes answer.  Tutu got up to fetch plates and silverware while Lane went to phone headquarters.  The phone rang, startling him, just as he reached for it.  It was Connie.
Lane, she said.  I got some interesting news for you.  From the tox screen we did on Winscott, I can tell you that he definitely had traces of the same compound in his system as did Manuel and the rest of the Espositos.  What I havent been able to figure out is where he got it?  The plants in his greenhouse were ordinary marijuana, relatively harmless as drugs go.  Certainly, not in the hallucinogenic family of drugs that were interested in.
Well, that is news, Connie, but Ive got a real flash for you.  Turo Esposito is sitting in my kitchen having dessert right now.  No, we didnt find him while we were searching today.  He found Cheryl at school and got her to bring him home tonight.  I was just getting the story from him.
Well, its not too late tonight.  You want I should drive down and take him off your hands?  Hell probably need a checkup before I turn him over to social services and child welfare.
I appreciate the offer and I would like to see you, but why dont you let him spend the night here?  We have the room, and I think he needs a night feeling safe and secure before we turn him over to child welfare.
I think youre right.  He surely wont feel safe and secure spending the night in a detention cell, and its too late to arrange for foster care.  Tell you what, Ill call Margie Mecklin at home, her department will handle Arturo.  I'll let her know she can pick him up at your place, say about nine tomorrow morning?
That will be fine, Connie.  After she leaves, Ill head back out to the Esposito place and see if I can figure out where and how the family got hold of this mysterious hallucinogen.
See if you can collect some clothes for the boy too, Lane.  You take care, Big Man.  Im looking forward to a barbecue Friday so dont let anything happen to you.
Dont worry, I wont.  See you then.
Kiss, kiss.  Bye.
Lane punched the disconnect switch to get a dial tone and punched the speed dial number for main station in Tonopah.  It was after hours but Noah was working late and the duty sergeant switched him through.
Weve got the boy, Lane said.
Alive?
I should hope so.  Hes having banana crme pie at my kitchen table with my daughter right now.
Well, thank goodness for small favors, he said.  I guess we can smile over this one after all.
Maybe a little smile, Lane said.  His family is still dead.
Yeah.  What did you get out of him?
Pretty much the same story that Deputy Snow doped out.  He says he was afraid that hed be in trouble so he hid out in the mountains, but realized that it would be better if he turned himself in.  He waited for my daughter at school today and she drove him home with her.
So we wasted a day out in the hills looking for him?
I wouldnt say wasted, Noah.  We found him, even if it wasnt in the place we were looking.
Yeah, okay.  Look, Ill call social services and have them take him off your hands.  They probably cant pick him up before tomorrow.  Can you take care of him tonight?
Already taken care of.  Doctor Conried called me just before I called you.  A lady in child welfare is a friend of hers so Connie is going to call her at home tonight.  Shell pick up the kid first thing in the morning.
Okay.  Have her bring him to the office here.  Ill have to question him or the sheriff wont think Im doing my job.
Okay, Noah, but take it easy, will you?  The kid has just had his whole family wiped out.
Christ, Mauler!  I may be a loud-mouthed son of a bitch, but Im not heartless.  Hell, I even have grandchildren, believe it or not.
Sorry, I didnt mean to get out of line.
You werent!  If ever one of my deputies isnt concerned with the welfare of an innocent child, then I dont want him on my force.  Understand me?
Yes, sir.
Good.  Ill talk with you again tomorrow.
Right, Noah.  The line went dead and he hung up.
He went into the kitchen, pulled out a chair, and set down with Tutu and Arturo.
Youre going to spend the night here, Arturo, he said.  In the morning a lady will come from Tonopah and drive you back there.  The sheriff has to ask you more questions to help us understand what happened out at your place.
The boys brown eyes looked huge against his olive complexion.  Eyes that had seen too much pain and felt too much sadness.  I dont know what more I can say, Mr. Mauler.
Did your father say anything earlier in the afternoon?  While the two of you were out with the sheep?  Arturo just stared.  His mind was seeking answers, but finding none.  Was there anything that your father was angry about?
Nothing was unusual.  We had brought home the goats and I was milking them while my father went inside the trailer.  He usually liked to watch the news before we ate.
When I finished the milking I went inside and the family was already sitting down to dinner.  I poured a glass of milk each for my sister and I then I was putting the rest of the milk into the refrigerator.  Papa complained of an odor and asked if my boots were dirty.  He sounded very upset, but it was the first time that day.  Anyway, I went back outside to clean my boots.  While I was doing that I heard Maria scream.  I ran quickly to the door and saw that papa was beating her.  Just about that time, mama turned from the coat closet where the rifle is kept and she shot him in the stomach.  I saw him stagger when the bullet hit him!
Then he tossed Maria aside and went after mama.  Her eyes were wide with surprise, maybe fright, Im not sure.  He jerked the rifle from her and began hitting her, and hitting her, again and again.  At last, he fell on top of her.
I didnt know what to do.  I was afraid that I might be blamed for this awful thing, so I took a blanket and hid myself in the mountains.  In the morning I suppose I was thinking better.  I realized that the best thing for me would be to turn myself in.  But I didnt want people shooting at me, or beating me before I could convince them that I didnt do this bad thing.  So I stayed in the trees while I made my way to town.  I avoided everyone I could and spent another night in the woods even though I was very close to town.  I hid near the school and waited for Cheryl by her car, and then I asked her to bring me here to your house.
You did the right thing, Arturo.  Youll get a good nights sleep here, with no locks on the doors.  And Cheryl will fix you a good breakfast in the morning before you leave.  Dont worry; no one wants to harm you.  I guess youve had enough problems for one lifetime.
I wish I knew how to help you, Mr. Mauler, but I dont know why papa did this thing.  And mama, her too!  It wasnt like she was trying only to protect Maria from the beating.  It was as if she had gone mad herself.  If only you could have seen the look in her eyes when she shot him, it was insanity, it must have been.  But why?  Why would both of them just go crazy like that?  My abuela, my grandmother, used to tell us stories of when things like this happened in the old times.  Her people were of the Anasazi; they made their homes on the high plateau in New Mexico and Colorado.  There came a bad winter when the men of many kivas went mad and there was much killing.  The people said a demon-spirit was loose upon the land.  When the killing kept getting worse and worse, the people began leaving.  First it was only a few families, later it became whole clans.  The wise ones tried to get the people to stay together and fight this thing, but it didnt work.  The people were afraid for their lives.  They fled in all directions.  Mostly they fled to the south and to the east, where they joined with the Hopi, Zuni, and other pueblo tribes.  Soon, the Anasazi were no more.
My parents were good people who took us to church regularly.  My mother blessed our home with the crucifix for our protection.  How could this demon-spirit come upon us again?
I have no idea, Arturo.  We were sort of hoping you could tell us.
There was just no reason.  The boy hung his head and let it shake back and forth.  No reason at all.
Lane glanced at his watch.  It was only a little after six.  He suggested that Tutu lend the boy a pair of sweat pants and a shirt and get him to take a bath.  Once he was out of those clothes she could toss them in the washer so hed at least have clean clothes in the morning.  Do we have any spare toothbrushes? he asked her.
Not that I know of, she said.
Okay, just let me get these dishes in the sink and Ill whip over to Arts and get the boy a toothbrush.  Can you think of anything else?
Tutu made a quick mental inventory of the fridge and pantry while she thought about what she would make for breakfast.  She decided on waffles and realized she had everything she need right here at home.  Nothing that I can think of.  If you see Ruthie, tell her Turo is safe and spending the night with us.  Shell pass the news on to everyone in town the minute she sees them.
Yeah, I guess most folks in town are concerned.  Ill be back in a jiffy.  He grabbed his keys and was soon out the door.
At Arts he quickly found the toothbrush he wanted and was about to step up to the counter any pay when Bruce Talbot caught his attention.  Bruce and four or five other locals were occupying two of Arts booths and had already killed at least three six packs judging from the number of empties on the two tables.
You and the posse catch that Mex kid yet, sheriff?  Lane didnt like the surly way Bruce was talking.  He avoided the issue by giving a non-response.
We didnt have any luck, today, Bruce.  I already called my report in to Tonopah.  They seem to think that the kid must be dead somewhere.  He tried to head for the cash register again, but Bruce grabbed his sleeve.
Now, in Texas, where I grew up, we know how to handle greasers.  Kid gets uptight cause his dad wont let him take the pickup out on Friday night, or something like that, so he up and kills the whole family.  What you got to do, sheriff, is put up some roadblocks and search everyone headin out of the valley.  Kid wont try and get out with his dads truck.  Too conspicuous.  Hey!  Aint that a laugh?  A spic being conspicuous!  Ha!  Ha!  Talbot thought himself quite a wit but he was only half right.
You take care though cause hell pull a knife on some decent folks and make em drive him out of the valley sheriff.  You try stopping all the traffic and youll catch him.
Youre probably right, Bruce.  I figure he already made his getaway.  Hes plumb gone by this time, Ill agree.  But he didnt take his dads pickup, too conspicuous, like you said.  Say, experienced man like yourself, we could have used you on the posse today.
Bruce liked the way Deputy Mauler showed him respect and figured it made him look good in the eyes of his drinking buddies.
Well, I would have liked to have joined up with you, sheriff, sa fact.  But I pulled the head off my old truck Saturday so I could replace the valves and grind the seats while I had it off.  Didnt have time to go out searching for no Mex murderer, but Id a liked to have been with you-all.
Maybe next time, Bruce?  He nodded to the other half-drunk red necks.  Well, I best head for home.  Just stopped in for a toothbrush.  You folks take it easy now.  He waved a hand at them and continued up to the cash register.
Ruthie shook her head at him.  Why dont you just arrest them and drag them out of here sheriff?
For what, Ruthie?  Being stupid and prejudiced?  Ruthie, if stupidity were a crime, half this country would be behind bars, including the ones we elected.  No, Ill see to them later.  You just keep quiet and dont let them get riled at you.
Well, if you say so.  But if they get out of line, my daddyll whomp their butts good.  Lane decided not to tell Ruthie at this moment that Arturo was safe at home with Tutu.
I hope Ill be around to give your dad a hand.  Now, how much for the brush?
He paid and drove back home.  Those red necks would be trouble, but you couldnt reason with a drunk.  Hed settle accounts with them another time.
Arturo had finished his bath and was watching TV with Tutu.  Lane tossed him the toothbrush and said, Dont leave it behind.  They may not issue you one when you go to Tonopah.
Thank you, sir, the boy said.  Lane just didnt know what to do with the kid.  He certainly couldnt keep him around here.  Tutu was a big enough handful on her own.  He went into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee and then took it into his office to fill out the paperwork on todays activity.
He listed the deputies who had worked for him by name, and the amount of hours they had spent on the job.  They would all turn in expense accounts and claim dinner at Arts, but the sheriffs office wouldnt pay without Lanes paperwork.  He faxed his report to Tonopah and then booted up his computer to find out what he could about the Anasazi.
Lane had several encyclopedias on CD-ROM.  He tried them, one after the other, and found the Anasazi had built a remarkable civilization in the four corners area of the west, where the borders of Nevada, Utah, Arizona, and Colorado came together.  The oldest evidence dated back as far as 5,500 BC and continued up until just after 1,600 AD.  By the time the Spanish had arrived in the region, the Anasazi were only a memory.  Their name, Anasazi, had its roots in a Navajo word used to describe the ancient ones.  Some archeologists claimed the Anasazi were obliged to migrate from their home territory by a prolonged drought.  Others said it was because they simply out grew their home territory.  When all the available firewood had been utilized for heating and cooking, they had to abandon their homes and move elsewhere.  Today, the most important relic of their culture is the Mesa Verde Cliff Dwellings, which have been turned into a national park.
For whatever reason, and Lane did not subscribe to the theory of evil spirits, they had left their cliff dwellings and moved elsewhere, only to be swallowed up in the polyglot of Native American tribes which existed at that time.
While he had been reading, Tutu came in and said Arturo was tired and going to bed, and that she was going to her room to continue working on her essay.  Lane nodded perfunctorily and wished her a good night while he continued with his reading.
When he looked at his watch again he was surprised to find that it was after ten and he had spent more than two hours conducting his research.  A good thing the county had run a data line over the mountains to link his computer with the Internet.  If he had to pay long distance charges for the time he spent on line, his phone bill would have been phenomenal! 
He shut down his computer and went out to the living room where he stirred up the coals in the airtight stove and added a few more chunks of coal to keep the house warm through the night.  Even though it was only mid-December, the nights above 5,500 feet were getting very chilly and he considered himself fortunate that hed been able to purchase good coal by the truckload for less than a hundred dollars a ton.  It meant driving nearly all the way to Reno, but he judged the one truckload would last two or three months.  He felt sure that two trips, three at the most, would last them throughout the winter.
Lane checked both the front door and back door before climbing the stairs one last time for the night.  The door to Tutus room was closed and there was no light showing beneath the door so he assumed she had also decided to call it a night.  Arturos door was open.  The faint, silvery glow of moonlight illuminated the room enough for Lane to see the boy sleeping comfortably.  He was glad that the boy could get some sleep after the tragedy of losing his family.  Of course, spending two very cold nights out in the forest could have had something to do with how tired he was.
Lane went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.  While he was there he popped two aspirin for his headache.  That had been happening to him more and more lately, especially when using the computer or reading the paper.  He wondered if his eyes were beginning to go now that he was older?  Hed make a mental note to get an appointment scheduled for his next trip to Tonopah.
He crawled between frigid sheets and stretched the muscles of his arms, legs, and back.  He must be getting old, he thought, if only two days of searching in the woods could make his muscles ache so badly.  He pulled the blankets up to his chin and was soon fast asleep.
Bright light streaming through his windows woke him.  One corner of his bedroom faced east and the first rays of the sun never failed to rouse him, unless the day was particularly overcast.  Today wasnt.  He grabbed a robe and headed for the bathroom where he got rid of a pint or so of used coffee and ran his electric razor over the morning stubble.  When he finished shaving, he jumped into the shower and lathered a dandruff shampoo into his brush cut, then rinsed and washed with an anti-bacterial soap.  He had found over the years he had very sensitive skin and all deodorants, even baby powder, made him break out in a rash.  His only defense against body odor was to shower often, which he did.
He was whistling by the time he reached the kitchen and poured a cup of fresh coffee.  Arturo was digging into a couple waffles topped with strawberries and a dollop of a non-dairy topping.  The boy was evidently pleased with Tutus cooking.
Looks good, Hon, and smells great!  Ill take three.  He planted a noisy kiss on the top of her head and sat down at the table.  Sure looks like youre enjoying them, Arturo.
Yes, sir.  Your daughter is a fine cook.  If she could learn to fix chorizo, I think that I would have to ask your permission to marry her.  Even if she is a gringa, and practically middle aged to boot! he added playfully.
Tutu swung around from the stove and pointed at him with the fork she was using to lift the waffles from the waffle iron.  You ungrateful puppy!  See if I cook for you anymore.  You can just starve for all I care.  Tutu was not angry with him, any more than he had been with her, but she felt it was important not to let him get the last word.  Lane ignored the two of them.  
Tutu set a plate in front of him and he began dig in.  As usual, Tutus culinary effort was delicious.  She had combined whole-wheat flour with enriched yellow cornmeal.  The combination was both light and filling at the same time.  Youve out done yourself again, sweetheart.  Id say that Arturo has good taste.
Well, thank you both, too much!  I might be persuaded to fix some of that chor-eet-so if I knew what it was, and how to prepare it.
Chorizo is a Mexican sausage, Cheryl Turo said.  Its very spicy, but not hot.  When you fry it, it becomes very mushy so you never serve it alone.  Usually it is mixed with scrambled eggs, or fried with potatoes or stirred into rice.  You can try some at La Cocina whenever youre in Tonopah.  They have very good Mexican food there.  It is a favorite of my family.  He frowned as an unpleasant memory crossed his mind and he realized that he would never again eat there with his family.
Well make a point of it, Arturo, Lane said.  Mexican cooking has always been one of my favorites.  I like mine especially well seasoned with lots of hot salsa.
All gringos think that Mexican food is super hot, but it really isnt.  Salsa is always served as a side dish.  You use it to season your own plate as much as you like.  Otherwise, Mexican food is fairly bland, although it does have its own flavor, mostly from cilantro or cumin.
Well, however you fix it is fine with me.  He glanced at Tutu.  Arent you joining us? he asked.
I ate long ago, she said.  If a girl doesnt get to the bathroom before you men do, she cant put her face on in the morning.  Besides, its time for me to head for school.  You men will just have to dump your dirty dishes in the sink and Ill do them when I get home this afternoon.
Dont worry, Sweetheart.  I have to stay home until Mrs. Mecklin gets here from Tonopah.  Ill do them for you.
Okay, she said.  But promise me youll leave them in the dish strainer to dry and dont put them away or Ill never be able to find them when Im looking for them again.  She pulled the plug on her waffle iron and moved it from the counter to the stove to cool.  Then she put her mixing bowl in the sink and ran warm water in it to soak.  She blew a kiss at her dad.  Bye now.  Got to run.  Good luck, Arturo.  Keep in touch with us, wont you?  She headed for the living room to collect her coat, books, and car keys.  Lane heard the door close as she went out the door.
She seems like a wonderful daughter, Mr. Mauler.  You must be very proud of her.
Oh, I am, he smiled.  I only wish that she had more time to spend as a young girl instead of looking after me all the time.
I was only joking, you know.  What I said about marrying her, I mean.
You dont have to apologize to me, Arturo.  Unlike some people, I dont judge a man by the color of his skin or the spelling of his name.  You look like a fine boy to me and Im sure you grow into a fine man.
Well, some folks get angry if a Mexicano looks twice at their daughter.  I just wanted you to know that I didnt mean anything by it.
Like I said, you dont have to apologize to me.  Save that for the Bruce Talbots of the world.
Yes, him I have run into once or twice.  I dont think he is a very nice man.
You said a mouthful.  Lane finished his breakfast and put the dishes in the sink.  Lets see what we can find on the morning news, why dont we?
Please, you go watch the news.  If its all right with you, Id like to volunteer to wash the dishes.
Lane suddenly realized why Turo didnt want to watch the news.  Sure, go ahead.  But remember what Cheryl said, dont put them away or shell skin me alive.
Yes, sir.  Ill remember.  He took the dishes from the sink and set them on the counter and then turned on the hot water.  Under the sink he found Tutus detergent and a scrubbing sponge.  He grabbed them and got to work.  Lane left him and went to the living room.  The news hadnt changed much since yesterday, or last year for that matter.  Another car bomb set off in Israel, three dead and eight injured.  Another mass grave found in the former Yugoslavia, twenty-seven bodies.  An earthquake measuring six-point-two in Chile, at least fourteen hundred dead, hundreds more injured, and perhaps as many as three thousand homeless.  In Wisconsin Mr. and Mrs. Joel Turner gave credit to their pet pig, Anastasia, for waking them up in the middle of the night and possibly saving their lives.  The pig smelled smoke in the basement and it turned out that a broom had fallen onto a chicken brooder and started a fire.  Christ!  The people slept with a pig in the house?  Well, whatever floats your boat, he told himself.  Fortunately the media hadnt heard that Arturo had been found, or didnt care.  They were still running the story and saying that the sheriffs office was working to develop leads.  Lane chuckled over that one.  The only lead so far concerned an evil spirit who may also have been responsible for the disappearance of the Anasazi tribe four hundred years earlier.  Evil spirits and Indians inNew Mexico!  Lane chortled to himself.
He heard a car pull into his driveway and clicked the remote turning the TV off.  He went to the front door and saw Connie getting out of her car as another one pulled to the curb in front of his house.  He opened the door just as Connie topped the front steps.
Morning! she said, cheerfully.  The driver of the other car had gotten out and was coming up the front walk.  Lane, Connie said, half turning to the woman approaching, this is Margie Mecklin from the department of child welfare.  Shes come to take Arturo up to Tonopah as soon as I examine him.
Lane opened the screen door and gave a wave to the matronly Mrs. Mecklin.  Morning to you maam.  Come right on in, its still a little chilly out here.  Once they were inside and he had taken their coats and hung them in the hall, Lane seated them in the living room.  Can I get anyone coffee?  Its fresh.
Thanks, Lane, but no, Connie said.  We got into town half an hour ago and stopped at Arts for coffee and a pit stop.  Can we see the boy?
Lane shrugged.  Sure, hes in the kitchen doing dishes.  Ill get him.
Do all your prisoners earn their keep that way? Connie asked.
Of course not.  He volunteered right after breakfast when I mentioned watching the news.
Thats understandable, Margie Mecklin said.  Many of these children are at a total loss after a tragedy such as this.  Some times it takes weeks or even months to get through to them and get them to face their problem.
Oh, I dont think thats it, Lane told her.  I think its just his way of thanking my daughter for the wonderful waffles with strawberries she fed him this morning.  Ill get him.
Lane found Arturo just finishing.  He had pulled the stoppers from both sinks, rinsed them, and was hanging the hand towel on the rack on the side of the cupboard.  Companys here, Lane said.
Thats fine, Arturo said.  Ive just finished.  Arturo followed Lane into the living room.  Both women smiled while Lane presented the boy.  Connie took his hand and pulled him down on the sofa next to her.
Im Doctor Conried.  Weve met at school.  I really should have you in an examining room to give you a proper checkup.  She felt his head and clucked her tongue, held his wrist while looking at her watch.  Any complaints after being out in the forest for two days?
No maam.  All I needed was a good nights sleep, and the deputy made sure I got that last night.
Okay, then I guess medically youre probably all right.
I gather youve already breakfasted, Mrs. Mecklin said.  If youre ready, we can get back on the road.  Weve got more than an hours drive to get back to Tonopah, and I dont want you to be late for lunch.
Yes, maam.  Ill be right with you.  Ive left a few things upstairs.  Arturo ran up the stairs leaving the grownups alone.
Im sure we wont have any trouble finding a foster home for him, Mrs. Mecklin said.  Its really so much better than the childrens facility, you know.
Im sure it is maam, Lane acknowledged.
He seems to be taking it well, Connie said.
I guess his folks raised him not to cry over spilled milk, Lane said.
Or perhaps the reality of his situation hasnt yet set in, Mrs. Mecklin said.  Whatever happens, we have excellent psychologists who can give him the best of care.
Arturo came back downstairs with his blanket roll in one hand and his toothbrush in the other.  Didnt want to forget this, Mr. Mauler.  Thanks again.  Will you tell Cheryl that I said goodbye and for her not to worry?  Ill write when I have a chance.
Sure thing, boy.  Good luck to you.  Lane held out his hand and the boy gave him a firm shake.  He had the feeling that this boy could handle just about any trouble life would throw at him.  Hed had some tough breaks, but he hadnt let them break him.  He would certainly grow into a fine man.
Lane held the door for Arturo and Mrs. Mecklin as they went to her car.  She started the engine and after a final wave, they were off.
Hes such a fine boy, Connie said watching them drive off.  Its sad to think of him in a foster home somewhere.
Lane put his arm around her waist and walked her into the kitchen where he poured fresh coffee for both of them.  It would be a lot sadder to have found him in a shallow grave, he said.
What a pessimist you are this morning, she said.  Are you always this depressing early in the morning?
I dont think Im being depressing, he commented as he swigged the hot brew.  It was beginning to age since Tutu had made it several hours ago.  It tasted bitter and harsh on his tongue.  Its the alternative that is depressing.  Im trying to look at the bright side of the situation.
Hmm, you have a lop-sided way of showing your optimism.
Thats your opinion.
You havent been out to the Esposito place since I phoned, have you?  He shook his head.  Well, I dont have much on my schedule today, other than a flu clinic this afternoon.  Hopefully that will take care of all the seniors who havent taken advantage of the previous clinic we scheduled.  Would it be all right if I rode along with you when you go?
Id welcome the company.  Well head out there as soon as you finish your coffee.  Oh, before it slips my mind, have you notified those Bad-Ass people about the Esposito family?  Do you think there is any kind of connection?
Connie looked surprised for a moment then said, TECBAD you mean?  Lane, I dont know if Im supposed to be talking to you about TECBAD.  As deputy coroner, I am required to touch base with them in certain circumstances, as is the sheriffs department, but Im not sure if Im allowed to discuss it.
Lane looked as perplexed as anyone could.  Well, what is this? he asked.  Some alien conspiracy like you read about in the tabloids?  I know TECBAD is located south of here.  Like anybody else, I see the UFO shows on the Discovery channel.  I know where Area 51 is, or approximately where it is.  Why do you have to report unusual deaths to TECBAD?
Connie decided to be stubborn.  I dont mean to exclude you from anything, Lane.  Let me ask my boss first, okay?  Then, if theres something Im free to discuss with you, Ill be happy to tell you.  Is that fair?
Well, it looks like thats all Im going to get out of you, so I guess itll have to do for now.  Just remember, Im not holding anything out on you.  I suspect Im going to need your help before I can close this case.  So please return the courtesy and dont hold anything back from me.  Okay?
Connie smiled and took his hand.  When have I ever held out on you, Lane?


Chapter 5

Dana Wheaton had arranged with Beth Brenner to take her last class of the afternoon.  Dana wanted to get home early because she was preparing a celebration dinner.  After a year and a half teaching in this one-horse town, a year and a half after meeting Paul Rosen, they had decided to tie the knot and get married.  It hadnt taken more than a month after they met for Paul to find his way into her bed, but neither was sure that they wanted to make the relationship more permanent.  Then, after they had made love last night, lying in bed and basking in the sensual afterglow of their love making, Paul asked her to marry him.
Of course I will, she replied.  But are you sure that is what you want, Paul?
He pulled the covers up over their naked bodies.  Im one hundred percent sure that Im sick and tired of sneaking out of your house late at night, he said.  You may not have noticed, but lately Ive had to scrape the ice off my windshield just so I can drive a block and a half to get home and into my own bed.
The remark was typical of Paul.  She knew that both of them were madly in love and wanted to get married, but Paul, playing the confirmed bachelor, needed a pretense before taking the plunge.  Dana didnt care.  He had asked and she had accepted.  Tonight she planned a special dinner and they had invited Thad and Bess, Steve and Rose, and they would celebrate and drink wine, and Paul could spend every night from now on in her bed.
There wasnt time for her to go shopping and fix something really fancy, so she planned a tossed salad, spaghetti, and garlic toast.  She was fortunate that Paul had an unopened half gallon bottle of Chianti, and she had another that was nearly full.  Driving home from school she had stopped at Arts and picked up a day-old loaf of French bread.  She made her own spread by mincing fresh garlic into a small tub of margarine and nuking it in the micro-wave on low power, then setting it aside to cool.  Every once in awhile, as she prepared dinner, she would stick a knife into it and give it a stir.  By the time she had set the table, lit the candles, made the sauce, prepared the pasta and tossed the salad, the spread was firm enough to spread on thick slices which she placed under the broiler until they were toasted to perfection.
Paul arrived first, bringing the full bottle of Chianti with him.  He put his arms around his love and kissed her thoroughly and asked what he could do to help?
Just stay out of the kitchen, she said.  It isnt big enough for the both of us.  Paul had to agree with that.  Danas rented house comprised two bedrooms, with a comfortable living room and dining room combination, but the kitchen was only a tiny alcove.
Youre right, he said.  There isnt room enough to swing a cat in here.  Ill stay in the living room where I can watch the news and greet our guests.
Fine, she said.  Her orange and yellow patchwork cat brushed against her legs and nearly tripped her.  Dammit! she shouted.  I sure chose the right name for you.  Shoo!  Go bother Paul, Dammit, or Ill let him swing you around the living room.  At least theres room enough in there.
Paul caught only a snatch of her remark while a commercial was blaring in his ears.  He tuned the receiver down and said, Whats that?
Oh, Dammit is getting underfoot as usual.  Im trying to get him to go where you can swing him around the room.
I doubt hed appreciate that much, Paul said.
Well, why do people use that term then?
Its an old nautical term.  In the early days of sail, ships discipline was usually enforced with a cat-o-nine tails.  Room enough to swing a cat meant on the open deck, where punishments were held.  Cat got your tongue? implied that a sailor was afraid of being lashed if he spoke.  Letting the cat out of the bag meant to remove it from the leather bag in which it was usually kept, which could be pretty threatening by itself."
Im impressed, she said while peeking around the kitchen corner.  From where do you acquire such trivia?
From a lot of sleepless nights reading pulp fiction or anything thatll tire me enough so I can get to sleep, as opposed to tossing and turning for hours.
Ive never known you to toss and turn, she said mischievously.
Thats because you always wear me out.  Wait until weve been married a few years and you are bored with me.
A few years? she teased.  Dont you mean a few decades?
Well, one can hope, cant one?  Say, Steve and Rose are driving up.  
 The Dunlops drove a mini-van six years old.  Twenty years ago it would have been a station wagon.  Any family with two kids and a Saint Bernard dog needs a roomy vehicle when they travel.  Currently, mini-vans were in vogue.  Steve got out on the drivers side and came around to open the door for Rose.  He gave her his hand and helped her out.  Rose Dunlop was nearly five-ten and thin enough to be mistaken for one of those New York super models.  Tonight she wore short heels, which made her only four inches taller than her husband.
Paul opened the door as they came up the walk.  They were a striking couple who had met while in college in Indiana.  Even after nine years of marriage and two children, it was easy to see they were still eminently pleased with life and marriage.  Paul pushed open the screen-door and Steve stood aside to allow Rose to enter.  She did so with all the grace of a princess being presented to royalty at the ball.  Steve helped her off with her cape of royal blue velvet.  Beneath it she wore a slinky ankle-length dress of silver lam with a bodice cut almost illegally low.  Her hair was piled high and held with a pearl tipped pin.  Her face bore just a hint of makeup.  A triple strand of simulated pearls graced her throat, complimenting the simple pearl-drop earrings she wore.  She was a perfect example of understated elegance.
Paul stepped back to take it all in.  Yeah, Steve said proudly, somebody call the fire department.
Rose, Paul whispered, if you ever get tired of a fussy mathematics teacher, Ill take care of you, and your children, and your dog.
Rose giggled.  You mean, if Dana will let you, dont you?
Paul snapped his fingers and feigned a scowl.  Darn!  I knew there was something I forgot.
Besides, shes much too hot for you to handle, Paul, Dana said coming from the kitchen.  Rose, you look like why the riot started.  Absolutely gorgeous!
Yeah, and overdressed too.  I know, but Steve just ordered this dress for me from Fredericks and its so seldom we ever go anywhere where I can wear it.  You really dont mind, do you?
Remind me to ask Paul to buy me one.  I sure hope hell look at me the same way Steve is looking at you after weve been married for nine years.
If you ever get tired of the way Steve looks at you, Dana, you can come live with Rose and me.  Shell love having another playmate around the house, though we may have to pack the kids off to the sitters quite a bit more often.  Susie Maycliff is watching them tonight
A horn honked outside as another car pulled up.  Looks like the Brenners have arrived, Paul said.  Now the party can begin in earnest.
Paul, get everyone seated and pour them some wine.  Ive got to set everything aside so we can gab awhile before dinner.
Sure thing, Precious.  He went to the front door to greet Thad and Bess.
Please, let me help you, Dana, Rose Dunlop said.
In that wickedly gorgeous dress!  Not a chance, youll muss it.  Have a seat and drink some wine.  Better yet, stay standing and let Thad get an eyeful.  Itll drive Bess bananas!  She headed for the kitchen promising to be right back.
Paul ushered in Thad and Bess, took their coats, and then went to a side table where the wine and glasses had been set out.  He served the ladies and then the men.  Thad Brenner was duly impressed with Roses dress and good naturedly threatened to steal her away from Steve.  But you dont mind if we wait a few years, do you?  Bess wants me to take time off and go back to UCLA for my masters.
Bess Brenner was wearing dark brown slacks, a sheer blouse open to the navel, and with a floral design.  When she bent forward to set her glass on the coffee table the blouse opened permitting an unrestricted view of her charms.  She had paid her way through college as an exotic dancer and liked to show off her well-formed body whenever the constraints of being a schoolteacher would allow.  Her husband had tried to get her to dress more conservatively but she would have none of it.  At school, or shopping around this dinky town, she promised Thad to dress like Mary Poppins, but when they went to Vegas, or when they were alone with friends, she would be as risqu as she pleased.  Finding he couldnt persuade her otherwise, Thad relaxed to the inevitable and finally began to enjoy his truly sexual wife.
Steve, setting across from his wife and next to Bess Brenner could not avoid the enticing view offered to him.  He didnt even try and he could see from Besss expression that she expected him to notice her breasts.  She gave him a coy smile.
Rose Dunlop meanwhile fastened her attention on Paul.  Paul dear, since my husband plainly intends to stare at Besss tits as long as she will allow, why dont you come and look at mine?  She hooked a ruby tipped fingernail at one side of her plunging V-neck to pull it over a bit and allow him a more generous view.
Paul gave no sign that hed seen anything at all.  All six of the young teachers were within a few years age of one another and since they all had their vacations at the same time, they frequently took them together.  Last year the three couples had pitched their tents at a popular clothing optional beach in California, one recommended by Bess who had gone to college in nearby Santa Cruz.  After the Dunlop children were asleep in their own small tent, the grownups hadnt always spent the night in the tent they were camping in, or with the partner each had brought.  But they were relaxed and friendly with each other and there was never any hint of jealousy.  The friendship and casualness of the three couples made teaching in this small town more pleasant and less of a job.  If they had been able to find one house large enough for the six of them, plus the two children of the Dunlops, they probably would have set up communal housekeeping, if there had been any way to hide the arrangement from the local towns folk.
In the kitchen Dana drained the pasta into a colander, rinsed it, and poured it back in the cooking pot.  She added a generous amount of olive oil and tossed it just enough to make sure every bit of pasta received at least a small coating.  Idly, she listened to the chatter in the living room.  She envied Bess and Rose.  Both ladies seemed to be so alive and to enjoy sex and loving so very much.  Dana looked at sex as a chore, a pleasant one, but a chore nonetheless.  She never felt the lusty exuberance for a sexual romp the other ladies seemed to possess.  Still, if Paul wanted his true love to behave as a slut, she could do that.  She loved him very much and wanted to please him in every way.  If sleeping with his friends while he made love to their wives made him happy, then she would make the most of it and try to be happy too.
It isnt making love, he had told her.  Its simply sharing sex.  Its a basic human feeling and desire that nature has made pleasurable to both sexes.  In some cultures, past and present, polygamy and polyandry have been normal and accepted.  Monogamy is a male invention, designed to insure that property and titles were passed father to first-born son.  It is an unnatural way of living fostered by a patriarchal society.  I subscribe to the original Polynesian sexual mores.
 And what were they? she had innocently asked.
In Polynesia, before the coming of the missionaries, sex was considered a natural and pleasant expression of friendship and caring.  The concept of bastardy was unknown.  Since title and property were handed down through the matriarchal lineage, no one ever felt concerned with who a childs father might have been.  Because maternity could never be questioned, each and every child became a cherished member of the clan.  Each and every coupling of man and woman became a happy event, whether it produced offspring or not.  Any male who treated a woman callously or with disrespect, soon found he was no longer welcome or invited to the party.  He may even have been exiled, or at the least forced into a life of celibacy, perhaps as a village priest or shaman.  His line soon died out.  Brutishness tends to be self correcting if nature is allowed to take its course. 
Dana wasnt sure that she accepted Pauls view of life and marriage.  She had been raised with the fairy tale notion that a man and woman married and lived happily ever after.  Pragmatically, she knew that view to be the exception more than the rule.  In Pauls polyamorous view of life, couples could remain together because they were true friends who cared for each other, even if their sex life was nonexistent.  Sex was always available anywhere else within the tribe or clan and there was no need for a couple to break up a relationship that worked, just to find one that was both sexually fulfilling as well as socially acceptable.  She had to admit, Pauls idea appeared to give women more equality in the social structure than in the predominantly male oriented culture she had grown up with.
She admitted she was confused.  Paul was the one with a degree in sociology and she could submit to his lead in that area.  Since Thad and Bess, Steve and Rose seemed to agree with him, maybe she was the one who failed to understand the world, as it could be.  In any event, she could happily allow Paul his trysts while submitting to the grunts and groans of men who were intimate friends, even if she didnt love them.  At least, in this modern day and age, pregnancy was a matter of choice and not the result of accidents.
She transferred the pasta to a serving dish and carried it to the table.  In the living room she found Paul playing with Besss breasts while she kissed Steve and massaged his crotch.  Rose was involved in some heavy petting with Thad.  No one seemed to notice to Danas presence.  She cleared her throat and announced, Well, you all seem to be enjoying the hors douvres.  Bring your wine to the table; dinner is served.
Dana seated herself and began serving tossed salads all around.  The five adults found seats and dug in for what turned out to be an enjoyable meal.
Into his second helping of spaghetti, Thad Brenner paused to ask Paul.  I say Paul, now that you and Dana are tying the knot, does this mean  I am no longer welcome to sleep with her?
Of course not! Paul said.  It merely means were adopting you and Bess into our family.  He raised his wine glass and winked at Bess as he took a sip.
Why, Thad Brenner, Dana exclaimed.  How dare you sully my reputation by hinting that youve slept with me.
From what Paul and I heard when we were camping at the beach, you and Thad never slept a wink! Rose said.  And youre such a screamer and moaner, its a miracle you didnt wake the kids!
Its no miracle, Bess Brenner said.  Steve and I couldnt hear a thing over the noise you and Paul were making.  The playful badinage continued throughout the meal.  Later, Rose and Bess helped Dana clear the table and do the dishes.
Dana, Rose asked, this dress is fine for getting the fellows all stirred up, but I sure would hate to muss it up doing dishes.  Do you mind if I take it off?
Of course not, Rose.  I expect well all be naked before the evening gets much later anyway.  She giggled.
Rose untied the halter-top of her gown, slid it down over her waist and stepped out of it.  Beneath it she wore only a pair of panty hose.  
Must get a little drafty, Bess commented.
No problem, Bess, I can always get Thad to keep me warm.
If I didnt love you so much, you round-heeled slut, Id be jealous over a remark like that.  But then, as long as you let me borrow Steve, I guess everything works out even.  She undid the buttons on her slacks and slid them off her shapely legs then unbuttoned her nearly invisible blouse and took it off also.  Hand me that dress kiddo, and Ill lay our things out on Danas bed.
Oh, not the bed, Dana said.  I think it will be occupied before much longer.  Give me your things and Ill hang them in the closet.  I want to get out of these duds too.  She gathered her friends clothes in her arms and went to the bedroom to hang everything.  When she returned, she was as naked as were they, save they were all wearing heels.
Doing the dishes turned out to be a game with lots of laughing, playful slapping and tickling, and quite a bit of splashed water.
Are you going to be borrowing my husband later? Bess asked Rose.
I think not, tonight.  Id like to go down on Paul this time, give him a real good send off before he and Dana tie the knot.
Bess, Dana suggested, why dont you and Rose both do Paul?  I can handle Thad and Steve at the same time, and itll be lots of fun to watch the three of you, dont you think?
Bess and Rose looked at each other and nodded.  They each put an arm around the others waist and smiled.
Well give him a great time, Rose said.
Ill suck him dry if Rose will get me off, Bess said.
All three of the women giggled.  Hand in hand they left the tiny kitchen and went into the living room where Paul had put some hard-core porno on the VCR and they were all watching Danas twenty-seven inch TV.  As chance would have it, Paul had chosen to sit on Danas love seat while Thad and Steve occupied the larger sofa.  Rose and Bess went to sit with Paul, one on his lap and one very close beside him.  Dana lit a dozen scented candles placed throughout the room and sprinkled a potpourri she had bought at Arts Exxon on several of them.  Then she turned out the lights and sat between Thad and Steve.  While Steve was rolling a joint she began helping Thad out of his shirt and pants.  Bess and Rose had already stripped Paul and Bess was pushing her large breasts into his face.  Roses tits were hardly larger than lemons, but they were beautiful and she showed them off to good advantage.  She was rubbing them on Pauls thighs while she took him in her mouth.
Dana ignored the antics of a naked threesome on the TV and gave her concentration to Thad and Steve.  She leaned far back on the sofa with her head in Steves lap while she lifted one nude leg and hooked it behind Brads neck, pulling his face down between her thighs.  His tongue entered her and she felt an electric tingle pulsing through her body.
She found her heart was racing and the blood was pounding in her ears.  She felt sure Thad and Steve must hear. Boom-boom-boom-boompity!
Steve took a deep drag of the marijuana joint.  He held it in his lungs momentarily then pressed his lips to hers and forced the potent vapors deep into her lungs while lightly caressing the tip of her nipples with his fingertips.  She drew the smoke in deeply and held it while the two men teased and excited her.  Oh, God!  This is heavenly! she thought to herself.  Paul has always been right; its just that Im such a slow starter.  She gave herself over to the ministrations of her two lovers and relaxed into a warm ecstasy.  The small house with its windows and doors shut tightly against the chill outside was filled with the aroma of basil and oregano from their dinner.  Slowly the fragrant herbs and petals of Granny Tituss Potpourri pushed them aside and filled the air with an exotic aroma.
Dana soon felt she could have been the centerpiece in some tribal ritual with pounding drums in the background, boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Overlaying that rhythm she imagined a room full of orgiastic revelers chanting to the beat, Hey-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!  She tried to take the beat deep within her soul and use its pounding fury to bring herself to an over powering climax.
Steve lifted Danas head and shoulders enough to be able to ease her head from his lap so he could more easily remove his shirt and slacks.  He loomed over her, pressing his hips towards her face until she could take him into her mouth, which she did greedily.  She tickled his scrotum with her fingertips and drew them sensuously toward the tip of his penis while she tickled and teased it with swift darting movements of her tongue.  She inhaled the muskiness of his body, swallowing it as she did the salty sweetness of his seminal fluids.  The taste drove her to new heights of eroticism and she pulled with her fingers as she sucked ever harder, at the same time arching her hips and pressing Thads face harder and harder into her pelvis.  She wanted to feel his tongue ever deeper and deeper inside her while he used his lips to gently massage the love button of her clitoris.  She moaned with pleasure and was rewarded as both men strove harder and harder to please her.
Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Hey-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!
From the corner of her eye she could see Bess and Rose had moved Paul onto the thickly carpeted floor.  Rose was straddling Pauls hips while Bess straddled his head and embrace Rose.  The girls were facing each other and kissing deeply while grinding their hips against Paul with their excited lust.  Watching them, Dana felt her passion smolder and churn, as might a long dormant volcano just before a tremendous explosion.  Thad extricated his head from between her thighs and rearranged himself on the sofa until his throbbing member could plunge deeply within her.  She felt herself soaring higher and higher and sucked harder and harder on Steve until, at last, the three of them simultaneously exploded in a rushing climax more intense than any she had ever felt before.  Her mouth was suddenly filled as Steves penis spurted the juices of his love into her.  She put both hands on his buttocks and pulled him harder and harder to her face, holding him tightly so as not to lose a single drop as she both licked and sucked his rock-hard shaft.  Her legs found their way around Thads hips and she gripped him tightly, driving his pulsing member deeper and deeper into her.  She was in bliss!
And still the rhythmic orgy continued in her mind. Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Hey!-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!
When the two men had spent themselves completely they pulled away from her and she could set up straight and put an arm around each of them.  She held them warmly as nimble tongues lapped at her nipples.
You guys are all the most wonderful friends in the world, she said.
Youre a pretty close friend yourself, Thad complimented her.
Steve whispered into her ear, I always thought Rose could give the worlds greatest head, but Ill have to admit you and she are tied for first place.
Neither Rose nor Bess paid any attention to the trio on the sofa.  Rose was moving her hips faster and faster while the cheeks of her buttocks slapped against Paul's thighs.  Bess was enjoying her own ecstasy as she pushed her ample breasts against Roses smaller ones.  Their soul kissing grew deeper and longer.  Dana and her two lovers watched the three on the floor with growing arousal.  Dana let her hands drop into their laps and found both men were erect again.  She manipulated them up and down, arousing them more and more until she could bend her neck first to one and then to the other.  They both rose to their feet and arched their hips toward her as she took them both into her mouth.  The unexpected and forbidden feeling of penile contact with each other excited both men while Dana tickled and teased them with her tongue and the warm moistness of her mouth.  In a few moments each was ejaculating a second time, though not with the same intensity of passion as they had before.  Dana lustily swallowed their small offerings of love.  Even if she wasnt a natural born wanton like her friends Bess and Rose, she could play the part well enough to drive two men to delirium with her sexuality.  She lay back, satiated and happy with her performance.
By now Paul and his two girls were satisfied with each other.  Bess and Rose drew their legs beneath them as they kneeled beside the coffee table while Paul rolled another joint.  He lit up and they began passing the joint around.  Bess, still kneeling, crawled to a spot in front of Steve and passed him the joint while she put her mouth over his now flaccid penis and tried to urge him to erection again.  Steve inhaled deeply and passed the joint to Dana and Thad.  Bess smiled up at him.
I guess Dana did a real good job on you fella, Big-Titty-Bess cant get a rise out of you.  First time thats happened.  She drew the back of her right hand across her face wiping away a little stickiness.
Dont tease him, Bess, Rose said.  Hell come around again soon.  Steve has never believed Once a king, always a king, but once a night is enough.  Thank goodness for me.
And me! Dana chimed in.  Hey, would you two she-cats let me get at my man for a minute?  This is supposed to be our party but you guys have been doing all the celebrating.
And you havent? Rose asked.  Just let me get at Thad, Im not nearly finished yet.
Dana took the joint from Thad and got down on the floor with Paul while Rose crawled to the sofa and began pressing her small tits into Thads face, moving them left and right, first one and then the other.  At the same time she let her nimble fingers tickle his scrotum and the faint beginnings of an erection appeared again.
Dana surprised herself by how much she was enjoying this evenings fun.  She was barely getting started and yet, she was beginning to fear the evening would end too soon.  She wanted to experience sex now with Paul.  Later she would encourage a three-some with Bess and Rose.  The guys always loved watching their women do each other.  There was no reason that their evening couldnt continue into the small hours of the morning.  She wouldnt let it come to an end!  Some inner voice told her that the more she threw herself into this sensual orgy the more Paul would want her and love her.  The more the two of them shared with their four friends, the deeper their love would bind them.  She didn't want anything to end this evening of pleasure!
Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Hey!-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!
Dana took a final drag on the rapidly diminishing roach and handed it to Paul.  While he pulled a final toke deep into his lungs, she began nibbling his scrotum and tickling his penis with her slender fingers.  She was really beginning to enjoy this evening of revelry and she wanted to have Pauls cock deep inside her; forever.  More intensely than ever, she wanted to feel him deeper and deeper, way up inside of her.  She put her lips over the shaft of his manhood and took him deeply into her mouth.  So deeply that she thought she might gag, but still she took him even deeper and deeper, and finally she bit down with all her might and severed that member from his body!
Paul cried out in fright and terror!  He tried to scramble backwards away from her.  At first there was no pain and then it exploded inside his head like a star going nova.  He looked at her smugly grinning face and the blood dripping from her lips and down to her breasts.  As he did so she removed the still pulsing appendage from her mouth and lay back on her elbows, pulling up both knees until she could insert the penis into her vagina.  It was nearly flaccid now, the blood rapidly draining away, but she managed to get it between the thickly lubricated folds of her skin and with three fingers she pushed it in as deep as she could.  All the while she smiled with an evil ferocity he had never seen before, and would never see again.  
When she could push it in no further she grabbed a nearby candle, as thick as her wrist.  With one hand she inserted the base of the candle into her while her other hand spread the lips of her vagina as wide as possible.  The candle was about six inches long and soon its entire length had disappeared within her.  With her fingers she still tried to push it deeper and deeper.
Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Hey!-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!
Paul heard a cry from Steve and saw that Bess was furiously biting down on his penis, as Dana had done to him.  But Steve was quicker and not so surprised as Paul.  He swung his left hand in a powerful fist, connecting with her temple and sending her sprawling until she was knocked into Paul.  She quickly rolled over and found her head almost in Pauls bloody lap.  With one hand grasped his bloody scrotum beneath the stump of his penis still pumping out his lifes blood.  She jerked swiftly trying to get her mouth at his testicles.  Paul reached behind him and grasped an ornamental wrought-iron lamp.  He wrapped his fingers around its slender shaft and swung it at Bess head.  The lampshade crumpled and softened the blow.  He reversed his grip and swung again with all the force he could muster.  There was a crunch as the bones of her skull split and she stiffened with a brief spasm and a shard of bone impaled her brain.  Then she went limp and collapsed across his legs.
Meanwhile Rose had pulled Thad off the sofa and onto the floor.  She was pressing his face to one tiny breast while Thads teeth gnashed viciously at the pink rosette surrounding the nipple, and she was smiling!  She was enjoying the pain as his teeth ripped the breast from her torso!
Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Hey!-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!
Thad was growling like a wolf, his teeth and lips dripping blood.  Rose pulled his mouth from one mutilated breast and fastened it on the other.  More! she cried.  More!  Eat me!  EAT ME!
Steve finally sprang into action.  Now that he had gotten Bess off of him he jumped on Thads back, pulling him from his wife and sending the two of them rolling toward the wall.  Rose screamed as Thads teeth tore a bite size morsel from her tit.  Come back here, you fucker! she yelled.  I want to give you more!  All of me!  She tried to crawl after the two men but Dana pushed her on her side and pressed herself full length on Roses body.
Dana buried her teeth into the soft, fuzzy flesh between Roses thighs.  She gnashed her teeth and pulled away three-inch strip of hair and flesh.  Rose screamed a high pitched wailing and used her hands to force Danas face against her again as Dana quickly chewed and swallowed the morsel of flesh.  Aaagh!  Yes! Rose screamed.  Eat me!  Eat me!  EAT ME!  
Dana took another bite and another while Rose screamed and screamed with a mixture of pain and pleasure.  The entire room was a madhouse of screaming, cursing, bleeding bodies.  Paul was moaning limply while the life drained from him.  Bess lay dead across his legs, one eye smashed shut, the other glaring obscenely and unblinking at him.  Her mouth was rigidly set with the rictus of pain.
Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Hey!-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!
Thad and Steve rolled over and over until Steves back fetched up against the edge of Danas fireplace and one hand landed among the glowing coals.  He screamed and gave a mighty push which drove Thad back and allowed Steve to regain his feet.  Quickly he grabbed a poker from the fireplace tools and swung it at Thad.  The first blow knocked Thad senseless and the second blow left a deep, bleeding gash in his forehead.  Steve swung again and shattered Thads skull.
He heard his wife scream again and whirled to where Dana was still biting and tearing and ripping away Roses genitals.  With a roar of rage he lifted the bloody poker and plunged it straight down into Danas back.  The force of his blow was so swift and violent Dana hardly had time to utter a sound as the poker tore through her left lung and pierced her heart, but there was a scream, long, high-pitched, and drawn out.  The poker had gone completely through Dana and deep into Rose's intestines.  She screamed again and the scream ended with a frothy groan with blood gushing from her mouth.  When the last gasp had left her lungs, Roses eyes glazed over and she died.
Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Hey!-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!
Steve let go of the poker and settled into the love seat.  His eyes could hardly comprehend the carnage and gore before him.  They had been three loving and highly sexed couples.  They had shared a good dinner and celebrated the coming marriage of Paul and Dana.  Now, of the six, only he remained alive.
Although he was the only one left alive, Steve was certain he felt a presence in the room with him.  He was not alone.  There was something evil and sinister here.  What it was, he hadnt a clue.  He sensed evil.  He sensed death.  He felt a loathing and an impending sense of dread.  He got up from the love seat and went to the kitchen.  Danas cutlery was neatly arrayed in a butcher-block stand on the counter.  He selected the largest and tested its sharpness with his thumb.  He knew that it would make a poor weapon with which to face the unknown, but it was better than nothing.  He went back to the living room and sat down on the love seat again.  His mind raced like an engine at full throttle with the clutch in, revving up to a furious pitch.  He eased back in the chair with the butcher knife across his bloody thighs.  He closed his eyes and surrendered to the unknown fear he felt, waiting for whatever would come next.
Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Hey!-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!



Chapter 6

Lane treated Tutu and Connie to dinner again at Arts that evening.  After dinner they drove to Martins video.  Tutu picked out a comedy and Connie chose a romance.  Lane couldnt remember whether or not there was any microwave popcorn remaining at home, so he bought a three-pak.  It was nearly seven when they got home and hung up their coats.  Tutu turned on the TV and popped her comedy into the VCR, thus settling which movie would be watched first.
Lane didnt mind.  Tutu had quietly accepted the fact that dad had a new woman in his life and she would probably find Connie seated at the breakfast table in the morning.  Having realized that life would go on, she decided to watch her movie and then head for bed.  If she didnt get up by six-thirty to fix breakfast, shed be late for school.
Connie settled herself on the sofa.  Lane brought them each a diet Pepsi and then retreated to the kitchen to make popcorn in the microwave.  While he was listening to the kernels pop he also heard Tutu and Connie laughing in the front room.  Connie had wisely settled into the role of an older friend to Tutu while Tutu had decided that she could do well in the role of little sister.  As such, she would probably have more time for her own interests and Connie would keep dad out of her hair.  Parents could sometimes put an awful damper on the plans a young woman made.
Lane poured the popcorn into two bowls, a big one for Connie and himself, and a slightly smaller one for Tutu.  He found Tutu in her favorite spot, sprawled on the floor perpendicular to the television with a throw pillow under her right arm.  He set her bowl of popcorn within easy reach and dropped onto one end of the sofa.  Connie promptly snuggled up close and he draped an arm across her shoulder while they munched popcorn and watched the movie.  Lane had missed the early moments of the movie but it seemed to be about two brothers who had inherited a worthless business and a house even more worthless.  Together they decided they would sell the house and use the money to fix up the business so they could sell that for a handsome profit.
There only problem was a small mouse in the house who considered it his by squatters rights.  The two ditzy brothers ended up destroying the house trying to get the mouse, then decided to take him in as a partner and turned their losing business into a successful cheese manufacturing firm with the mouse as a technical advisor.
As a story, it was childishly simple.  But the director had achieved some really spectacular effects using trained mice and putting in some incredible computer animation.  Lane found himself laughing a lot more than he had expected he would.  During the credits of the movie the phone rang and Lane excused himself to answer it.
Fred Silvermans mother Rachel was on the line.  Fred was one of the older students at Tutus school.
Sheriff Mauler?  We live over here on Rhyolite, about two blocks down past the school, you know?
Yes, Mrs. Silverman.  Remember?  Im the one who drove Fred home the day he sprained his ankle at soccer practice after school.  Now, what can I do for you?
Well, I try and mind my own business in the neighborhood, you know?  Im not one to stick my nose in where its not wanted.  Now, that young teacher, Dana Wheaton lives just two doors down and across the street.  Early this evening her boyfriend pulled up and got out with a bottle of wine.  I expected they were having dinner together.  And then those two other couples also drove up, you know, the other teachers, the Brenners and the Dunlops?  It looked as though they were all having dinner at Miss Wheatons.  About an hour and a half ago all the lights went down low, and just a little while ago Fred and I heard what sounded like screaming over there, and maybe someone kicking up a ruckus like they were having a fight or something?  I wish youd come take a look, would you Sheriff?
Lane didnt fancy going out at this time of night for what was essentially just a loud party.  Are they still making a lot of noise, Mrs. Silverman?
No, not now, its quiet as a cemetery.  Thats whats got me spooked.  Its unnaturally quiet over there, and the lights are still turned way down low.
Okay, okay.  Itll take me about five minutes to get dressed and another few to get there.  Ill see you then.  He hung up and went back into the living room.  Sorry ladies.  Duty calls.  I dont think its much but Ive got to check it out.  Ill be back in a few minutes, okay?
Fine, Connie said.  Ill fix us more popcorn while Tutu rewinds the video, and well have it all ready to start the next movie when you get home.
Youre sure you dont mind me leaving? Lane asked.
Go! Tutu said emphatically.  Connie and I will be all right here at home, and the sooner you leave, the sooner youll get back, right?  She snorted with disgust and looked to Connie for sympathy.  Men!  Do they seriously think we women cant spend a night at home without their help?
Connie joked back at her.  I guess well just have to show him that over protection can be just as bad as none at all, right?  Go, Lane.  She blew a kiss at him.  Well be right here when you get back.
Lane crossed the room to her and gave her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.  Okay.  Dont let her majesty stay up too late, she has school tomorrow.  You hear, squirt?
Salaam, master.  To hear is to obey.  She got to her feet and put away the tape which had just finished rewinding.  If you can stand it here by yourself, Connie, I was going to run on up to bed as soon as this movie was over anyway.  Okay?
Sure, dear.  Sleep tight.  Ill wait up for your dad.
Tutu surprised her dad by going over and giving Connie a hug and then heading up the stairs.  Lane looked at Connie and shrugged with an expression of Who knows? on his face.  He blew her a kiss and grabbed his weapon and leather as he went out the door.  He wasnt in uniform but he did have the county blue and white and everybody in town knew him by sight anyway.
The short drive over to Rhyolite Street took about three minutes.  Mrs. Silverman was standing near the street in front of her house and waved Lane to a stop.  He stepped out of the car and greeted her with a smile.  Hi, Mrs. Silverman, which house is it? he asked and glanced across the street. 
The one with four cars parked in front, deputy.  Its got a brick front painted brown and the trim is beige, though I guess its pretty hard to tell in the dark like this.  You know, I was talking to Ralph Martin the last time I was over renting a video, and we thought maybe we could get some streetlights in this town if we.
Yes, maam, streetlights would probably be a big help.  But they cost quite a bit to install, then theres the yearly upkeep, and it seems kids throwing rocks, or some yahoo celebrating his latest six-pack frequently bust them.  Could get quite expensive, I guess.  Now, which house did you say it was?  Lane hated the continual prattle which seemed to be required to keep on good terms with some people.  It was though they had no communication in their life and were always on the lookout for someone to talk with, even if they had little or nothing to talk about.
The brown one, this time she pointed.
As Lane turned his glance in the direction she pointed, he saw a figure detach itself from the darkness and approach them.  He almost reached for his pistol before he recognized Mrs. Silvermans teenage son, Fred.  The boy was breathing heavily and ran to his mother's side.
I think you better call for a doctor, mom.  Theres lots of blood on the floors and walls over there.  I was peeking through the window and I could see a man sitting in a chair with lots of blood on him.  There might have been one or two people on the floor too, but there are only some candles for light and I couldnt see too well.
Fred, Lane said, go inside and call my house.  Dr. Conried was having dinner with us tonight and is still there.  Tell her to grab her bag and jump in her car and get over here as quickly as possible.  Do that for me, will you?
Fred was already half way to his front door.  Lane yelled after him, And stay inside after youve called!  There could be trouble out here.  He looked at Mrs. Silverman.  I think you should go inside also.  The doctor will see my car and Ill leave the emergency lights on.  The best thing for you to do is wait inside.  Will you do that for me?  Now?
She nodded and silently backed away.  So much for step one, Lane told himself.  Contain the situation.  Well, he had gotten innocent bystanders out of the way, now he needed to find out what was really happening.  He reached through the open drivers side door of his blue and white and switched on the light bar.  Connie couldnt help but see the flashing lights and would not drive past.  Grabbing his three-cell flashlight he moved across the street so the headlights of his car werent directly illuminating him and approached the brown house.
The inside was only dimly lit as the Silverman kid had said.  Hardly a glow could be seen between the curtains.  He recognized the four cars parked in front of the house.  The blue beetle was Paul Rosens.  Dana Wheatons silver-gray Nissan was parked behind the beetle.  Next in line was the Dunlops mini-van and last was the Brenners Camaro.  It didnt take a rocket scientist to figure that the teachers were having a party, but what kind?  Had it somehow gotten out of hand?  Hed met them all through Tutus school activities and had thought them quite settled and sensible.
A hedge barely two feet tall ran from the street back as far as the front wall of the brick house.  Beyond that it grew four feet tall as it ran down the property line separating Dana Wheatons property from her neighbors.  He shined his light towards the rear of the property.  
There was no one on this side of the hedge.
He leaned across the hedge and checked as far back as he could.  A wire gate jutted out from the rear of the house.  He saw no sign of a dog.  Cautiously he stepped over the hedge where it was shortest and eased up to a window so he could peer inside.
There was Steve Dunlop, sitting naked in a love seat watching some porno thing on the television.  His eyes seemed glazed as though he wasnt really seeing what was going on.  On the floor next to him was Bess Brenner.  She was nude and her head lay in a wide pool of blood.  Rose Dunlop, equally nude was sprawled atop Dana Wheaton with something projecting from her back.  The grisly room was heavily splattered with blood on the walls, the floor, and the furniture.
Lane could see a naked pair of legs extending from the wall at the front of the house into his field of vision, but he couldnt get an angle that would let him see to whom the legs belonged.  Assuming there were three couples, and Steve Dunlop was still sitting in the middle of the room, it had to be either Paul Rosen or Thad Brenner.  But it could also be someone else who had come as a passenger in one of the cars out front.  He had no way of knowing just how many people populated this nightmarish scene.
God!  What the hell had gone on here, some kind of orgy?  Were Steves eyes glazed because he was flying high on some kind of dope?  He had no backup and decided to maintain some distance from the front door.
He went out to the street and stood on the far side of Dana Wheatons car.  Just as he drew his automatic, jacked a round into the chamber and stretched his arms across the roof of the Nissan, Connies beige sedan pulled around the corner and screeched to a halt behind his police unit.  She got out, her black bag in her right hand, and began to run to him crouching low.
Jesus, Lane!  Whats going on here?  Freddie said there were bodies all over the place.
Yeah, Connie, there are.  And I havent a clue as to whats going on.  Stay low.  Steve Dunlop is sitting naked in the dark in there and Im going to try and call him out.    No one has reported any shots so I dont think hes armed, but you never know.  Connie ducked down until only the crown of her head was peeking above the hood of Rosens car.
Dunlop! Lane called.  Steve Dunlop!  This is Deputy Mauler out here.  I want you to come to the front door and step outside for me.  We need to get medical help to your friends, but I have to know the doctor will be safe in there.
Gway, came a muffled reply.  Then it grew louder as Dunlop stood and approached the front door.  He jerked it open and yelled at Lane and Connie.  Go away, deputy, now!  Theres nothing but sin and death here, and its too late for you to help anyone.
No, its not, Steve.  Come out and let the doctor look you over.
No!  Theres too much death here, and evil too!  I can smell it.  I can taste it.  Its coming for me and its too late for you to help.  Dont you hear it?  Boom-boom-boom-boom-boompity.  Dunlop slammed the door with such force that a glass pane in the mullioned door cracked and pieces tinkled down to the steps.  He went to the kitchen and rifled through Danas drawers until he found what he wanted, a ten inch carving knife of gleaming stainless steel.
Dunlop could feel the evil permeating this house as though it was as real as a person and as solid as a wall.  He couldnt surrender to that evil as his friends had.  He would, he must, destroy it!
But it was hiding, staying just beyond his vision.  He could sense the presence but couldnt see the form.  He looked around the kitchen and the tiny laundry room leading to the back door.  He saw nothing.
In the living room he could see only naked and mutilated bodies of friends he had known.  Friends he had worked with, laughed with, made love with.  Danas cat came in from one of the bedrooms and was sniffing at Thad Brenners corpse.  Steve grabbed a candle from a coffee table and hurled it at the cat, missing by scant inches.  The cat scurried across the dim living room and into the kitchen.
Dunlop jerked open one bedroom door and flicked on a light.  He held knives in each hand ready to strike down the embodiment of death, but the room was empty.  He went to the other bedroom.  The door was already open and he pressed his body tight against the wall as he reached inside and found the light switch.  Brilliance flooded the room but there was no one there.  There was no evil creature for him to attack.
It must have gotten out when he had the door open!  That was it, he convinced himself.  It had gotten out through the open door.  Or perhaps it had slithered out through the windowpane he had broken when he closed it so angrily.
He jerked the door suddenly open again.  Did you see it, Lane?  Can you get a shot at it?  Weve got to kill it before we all die!
Connie turned a questioning gaze toward Lane.  Alternating blue and red lights lit her face as the lights from his cruiser bathed them in the night.  Whats he talking about? she asked.  See who?  Kill what?
Lane just shrugged.  Beats me.  He stared at the front of Dana Wheatons house.  Yeah, Steve.  I handcuffed it and locked it in my cruiser.  He looked at Connie and shrugged his head.  Well, I would have, but I havent seen his boogeyman.  I think hes tripping out on something.
The screen door burst open and Dunlop ran naked from the house.  He was holding a large kitchen knife in each hand.  Lane reacted instinctively and put a nine-millimeter slug into the mans right shoulder.  Dunlop staggered under the three hundred and forty foot pounds of muzzle energy delivered by the hundred and fifteen grain bullet.  He staggered but remained on his feet.  He bellowed with rage but couldnt lift the knife into the air with his wounded shoulder.  The most he could do was hold it in front of him at waist level.  He kept coming, his voice a snarling growl while he slashed the air with the knife in his left hand.  Lane fired again, a bullet hit Steve in the right kneecap.  This time he went down but not for long.  In twelve years as a law enforcement officer, Lane had never seen a man walk on a shattered knee but Steve Dunlop managed to.  The pain must have been unbelievable, but whatever drugs he was on gave him superhuman endurance and he staggered toward Connie and Lane again.  He continued brandishing the knife while yelling, Kill him!  Got to kill him!
Lane fired a third time hitting Dunlop in the left knee.  The man went down again and stayed down.  He flailed on the ground striking out with both knives all around him.  Lane ran around the rear of the car and came up on Dunlop from his blind side.  He swung a heavy boot at the knife in the wounded mans left hand and sent it flying.  He pinned the right hand to the ground with his foot and wrested the second knife from Dunlops grasp.  Then he flopped the man over on his stomach and bent the injured right arm behind him, pinning it at the waist with his knee.  He reached for his cuffs with his left hand and snapped one bracelet around the mans left wrist and pulled it tightly behind his back until he could snap the other bracelet to the right wrist.  Dunlop was now subdued.
Watch it, Connie!  This guy could still hurt you.  Ive got to check the house.
Lane sprinted for the door and glanced inside while holding his weapon at the ready.  Connie moved around the front of the car and approached to where Dunlop laid writhing and kicking on the ground.  She stopped just beyond his reach and set her bag on the ground, opened it and took out a hypodermic and a vial of liquid.
Lane cautiously peered into the house.  There was no movement he could see.  His free hand found a light switch and he flicked it on.  Christ what carnage!
There were five bodies, three women and two men.  He checked the nearest bedroom briefly and continued to the next.  Nothing.  He stepped around or over bodies and checked the kitchen.  Nothing.  In the laundry room he found a patchwork cat nibbling dry kibble from a dish.  The cat paused and gave Lane the once over.  Apparently it didnt like what it saw for it snarled and hissed and ran behind the washing machine.  
Seeing no danger, Lane holstered his weapon and went back to the living room.  Something was niggling him somewhere just outside his stream of consciousness.  Some danger warning!  The same feeling hed had when hed checked the Winscott place.
He knelt over the first mutilated corpse.  Paul Rosen.  Someone had castrated him.  Good heavens, no!  It hadnt been a quick, neat slice with a knife.  Someone had bitten the mans cock off!  Lane felt both sick and frightened as the muscles in his own groin tightened.
The frozen mask of death on Rosens face told Lane he neednt check for a pulse.  Next was Bess Brenner, her head was lying in a still-wet pool of blood with shards of bone and gray matter oozing from a hideous gash above her left eye.  Her eyes were glazed and sightless, she was obviously dead also.
Dana Wheaton lay head to foot over Rose Dunlop, a heavy brass and wrought-iron fireplace poker protruding from her back.  Lane felt for the carotid artery in her neck but could find no pulse.
A little to the right of Danas right thigh, Rose Dunlops face was visible.  Lane thought he could hear a faint gasping and saw blood at the corner of Roses mouth bubble and froth.  She was still alive!
Quickly he tried to move Dana from on top of the injured woman and found to his horror that the fireplace poker had gone completely through the blonde teacher and impaled the dark haired woman beneath.  In his haste to save the dying woman on the floor he cursed the fingerprints and yanked hard on the poker.  It gave an inch or two and the woman gasped.  He was able to pull Dana Wheatons body off of Rose and when he saw the wounds and teeth marks on her body he was sick.  He put a hand on the back of the love seat and vomited his dinner, several cups of coffee, and a large quantity of popcorn onto the floor.  He wretched again and a vile taste filled his mouth.  His ears were pounding and he could hear the same ominous drumming and chanting he had heard weeks before when he spent the night at Larry Winscotts shack. Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Hey!-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!
When his insides stopped churning he drew his hand across his mouth and bent to examine the woman.  She had stopped breathing and he could find no pulse.  Dammit!  He could swear she was smiling!
Lastly he examined Thad Brenner, but one glance told him it was useless.  Brenners skull was split wide open.  Lane could have poked his fist through the broken bone.  Christ, the whole fucking room was worse than anything Dante could ever have dreamed up!
Lane felt the hairs on the back of his neck stiffen and he glanced around to see who was sneaking up on him.  Nothing!  He had to get out of this palace of blood and gore before he lost his mind.  But he hadnt completed a search of the house yet.  In each of the bedrooms he had noticed a closet during his first cursory glance.  He needed to check those closets and the bathroom that served the two adjoining rooms.  He didnt want to spend any longer in this house of horror while he searched.  He wanted to get out of this nightmare, but his job wasnt over yet.
He pulled his pistol from his holster again and stepped into the farthest bedroom.  He marched straight up to the closet and stepped a little to the side, reaching forward and pulling hard on the door.  He kept the gun ready for action.  
Empty!  
Nothing but a few dresses and coats on hangars, boxes of odds and ends on a shelf above, and several pairs of ladies shoes on the floor.
Although he felt silly doing it, he backed away from the closet and went down on the floor.  He lowered himself with his left hand so he could peer under the bed.  He saw only a pair of slippers and a couple dust bunnies, but suspects had been found hiding under beds before.
He got up and checked the bathroom not forgetting to look behind the shower curtain.  Finding nothing he stepped through and into the other bedroom.  This one contained a single twin bed and a bookcase, as well as a desk and computer terminal.  Evidently Dana had used this one as her office.  In here she prepared lesson plans and graded papers.  Lane checked the closet before checking under the small bed.  Winter coats were hung up, along with a slinky silver gown and a pair of brown slacks and a print blouse that was as thin as gauze and concealed even less.  He hadnt known schoolteachers to dress that way in his day.
On the shelf above the clothes were a few schoolbooks, and three ring binders.  Danas files, he guessed.
Finally he got down on the floor and checked under the twin bed.  It too was empty, but he had already guessed that.  Seeing the clothes he assumed had belonged to the other female guests hung up in the closet, he knew no one had broken in and assaulted the teachers by force.  They had been having a sex party and had taken the time to hang up the ladies clothes rather than get them wrinkled.  The world was full of strange types, he admitted to himself, but teachers?  You didnt think a bunch of teachers would be involved in anything so he fumbled to put his thoughts into words.  It was perverse, wasnt it?  It was strange, to say the least.
He considered the situation a little longer.  Hadnt he read somewhere that the more educated a person was the more liberal they tended to be concerning things sexual?  Yeah, he recalled an article which maintained that once a person broke loose from long held superstitions and ignorance, the more they tended to accept the feelings of their own bodies.  Centuries ago women feared sex because it frequently resulted in pregnancy and an average of one in four births ended in death for the mother.  On the other side of the coin, men considered sex to be strictly a male right and all women were creatures to be possessed by them, while the fidelity of a spouse was necessary to preserve the mans lineage.
Modern medicine had done much to make childbearing safer, if not nearly painless, in the delivery room.  Modern birth control allowed a woman to decide when she would or would not get pregnant.  Sex wasnt any more rampant or promiscuous than it had been centuries ago, it was simply safer and more to be enjoyed.  Anyone with an IQ above room temperature could avoid the pitfalls of venereal disease and other unpleasant infections.
He strove to break away from such unnatural concepts and went through the front room and out into the yard.  He found Connie tending to the wounded man.
Christ, Lane, did you have to handcuff him?  I cant lay him flat while I work on him.
Sorry.  I just wanted to keep him from hurting himself or anyone else.  Hows he doing?
Hes passed out now, and Ive sedated him.  But weve got to get him off this cold ground and into a bed somewhere.  Can we take him to your house, at least until we can get a mercy helicopter in here?  Itll take too long to get an ambulance down from Tonopah and then get him back to a hospital.
I guess well have to do that.  I sure dont want him to die; hes the only witness we have to what happened here tonight.  Let me bring the cruiser over here and well lay him out in the back seat and drive him home.  Will that be okay?
Itll have to do, but unlock these cuffs first, will you?  Weve got to be able to get under his arms to lift him into the car.  And bring a blanket, will you?
Lane pulled the car over and turned it around, but he refused to remove the mans handcuffs.  He opened the rear seat and helped Connie get the wounded man in and then covered him with a blanket.  By now Mrs. Silverman and her son Fred, along with several neighbors, had begun to crowd around the scene.  Lane cautioned them to stay away from the crime scene and to return to their homes.  None elected to leave the area, but neither did they approach the murder house.  Lane contented himself with that.
They loaded the unconscious man into the cruiser and were shortly pulling into Lanes driveway.  Connie followed him in her car and pulled in immediately behind him.  Together they unloaded Dunlop and managed to maneuver him up the steps and into the house where they laid him on the sofa and Connie continued her ministrations.
Tutu came down the stairs and poked her head in.  Hey, whats going on?
Police business, Hon, Im sorry if we woke you.  Lane left Connie to her business while he went into his office and picked up the phone.
Oh, I wasnt asleep yet, Tutu said.  Connie, can I do anything to help you?
I think we could use another blanket, dear.  This man is awfully cold.
Why, thats Mr. Dunlop, from the school!  Wow, sure looks like he got into a losing argument with a semi.  Was it a traffic accident?
Not now, Tutu.  Would you please get me that extra blanket?  Connie didnt want to begin detailing what little she knew of the incident to a fifteen, nearly sixteen-year-old girl.  Let her maintain her innocence for a few more years.  Tutu went upstairs while her dad was talking to his headquarters.
Josiah?  Hi, Lane Mauler here.  Look, weve got a pretty bad situation down here.  What?  Yes, again.  Look, can you scare up a mercy flight for us?  We need a helicopter here ASAP to transport a white male, late twenties or early thirties.  Possible shock and possible drug intoxication.  Three gunshot wounds, but none life threatening.  He came at me while armed and I had to put him down.  One bullet in the shoulder, and one each in the left and right legs.  Dr. Conried is attending to him now but she feels he needs to be transported immediately.
Tutu came down the stairs with a wool blanket and a pillow and took them to Connie.
I guess the best landing area would be in the field behind my house.  Weve got the man on my living room sofa right now.  Ill use my cruiser to mark the landing zone.  Tell the pilot to look for the emergency lights on my cruiser and to contact me on our tactical frequency.  Okay?
Josiah Snow read the information back to him quickly to insure he had copied it correctly.  Lane waited a few moments while the deputy was on another line.  Soon he came back and advised Lane to expect an ETA in about one hour.
Look, Lane, thats the earliest I can help you.  We dont have anything available here right now.  Ive got a helicopter coming down from Elko.  Thats about an hour flight time north of here, and its much closer than Vegas.
Okay, itll have to be Elko.  Now that youve got that taken care of, alert the sheriff that well need the coroner to transport five bodies as early as you can tomorrow.  Yeah, I said five.  And, Im gonna need the crime scene unit again, along with a couple spare men to handle crowd control.  Can you do that for me?
Deputy Snow said hed pass the information on and reminded Lane that Noah Denton would want a full report first thing in the morning.
Dont I know it, Lane said.  Look, Valley Forks is going to be swarming with press and TV reporters as soon as this leaks out.  Can you ask him to send me someone to give the reporters the official version of what happened here?  How the hell should I know what happened!  All I do know is that Ive got what looks like six schoolteachers involved in some kind of kinky sex party.  The end result is five dead and the only witness is going to be air evacced out of here as soon as that helicopter arrives.  Okay, Im not taking it out on you.  Ill write it up and FAX it up to you after I get this patient transported.  Ive got to go out and mark the landing zone now.
Dentons not going to love you for this, Lane, Deputy Snow said.  He says the Sheriff is pissed at the unfavorable publicity that Esposito thing has brought down on him, and the election isnt that far away.
Well I wasnt invited to the party, and I wasnt involved in the killings.  You tell him that.  And make sure you pass the word that this patient could be dangerous.  He came after Doc and me with a ten-inch knife in each hand.  Make sure they keep him restrained and dont allow him to hurt anyone else, okay?
Josiah Snow said hed make sure the aircrew and hospital personnel all were informed.  Lane thanked him and hung up.  He glanced at his watch to get an idea of when to expect the helicopter.  It was ten-ten now, which meant the helicopter could arrive any time after eleven.  He went back to the living room to check on Connie.
She was sitting at the dining room table sipping coffee which Tutu had brewed fresh for them, rightly assuming they would be busy for much of the night.  Hows my baby, he asked her.
Im fine, she said.  Ive been a doctor for four years now, and had several years of training before that.
Well, Im glad youre fine, he said, but youre a big girl.  I meant how is Tutu?
Oh, sorry.  She said if I didnt need her help any more she was going back upstairs.  All this blood was making her feel icky.
Me too, but I cant go upstairs.  Look, the helicopter will be here in about an hour.  Im going to mark that field out back for a landing zone.  Can I move your car up there?
Its a county car, and this is county business.  Go ahead, the keys are still in the ignition.  But first, tell me what went on inside that house.
Lane reached for the coffee pot and poured himself a cup.  He sat down and stared at the dark brew, avoiding her eyes.  I dont know, Connie.  It looks like they were having some kind of sex party and things got out of hand.  Ive seen five car smash-ups on the freeway that werent as messy as that house, and I have to go back there.  I dont want to.  Theres something wrong there, some kind of evil which I cant put a finger on.
I felt it before, at Winscotts, and again at the Esposito place.  Its a cold, black feeling that starts in your gut and spreads out through your bones.  Its something that terrifies me.  It scares the crap out of me beyond all reason.  I cant quite explain how I feel about it.
Maybe the Esposito boys evil spirit? she asked.  He didnt think she was serious, merely making a comment to help draw him into conversation.
Whatever it is, it certainly is evil.  Ive never felt anything like this, Connie.  It isnt any sort of spirit, Im sure of that.  Its something you can feel.  Something you can almost touch.  It gives me the willies.
Connie glanced at her patient lying on the sofa.  I wonder what he saw? she said.  I wonder what he can tell us?
Youll be going with the helicopter, wont you?
Not on your shiny badge, I wont.  Those little aircraft scare the hell out of me, more than your evil spirit.  There will be an emergency medical technician on the mercy flight and Dunlop will be okay with him.  Hes lucky that none of the bullets hit a major artery or shattered a bone.  Hes very lucky that your three shots didnt kill him, Lane.  I know its necessary for you people to go armed, but why must you always be so quick to shoot?
Dont tell me youre one of those bleeding heart liberals who want all firearms outlawed, Connie?  I thought you had more sense than that?
Well, wouldnt it make your job safer if guns were illegal for everyone but the police?
Outlawing guns only applies to honest citizens, Connie.  Any criminal can get a gun in a strange town within a few hours if he has the money.  They don't heed the law, Connie.  Thats what makes them criminals.  In law enforcement, you have to assume that every dangerous individual in a situation is armed.  If you forget that, you run into a situation where some twelve year old kid is going put a bullet straight into the back of your head.
But dont you feel awful having to treat everyone you meet as a potential killer?  How can you live that way?
Im a pragmatist, thats how.  Everyone is a potential killer.  Whether they get behind the wheel of a car when they are too drunk to drive, or whether they use a shotgun in a holdup.  Fortunately, most people are honest, law-abiding citizens who would no more point a gun a stranger than you would.  But, given the right circumstances, anyone can take an innocent life, whether by accident or by design.  Even in your own profession.  Dont tell me youve never heard of a doctor losing a patient because he was drunk when he operated?  Or because of some little thing that was overlooked?
But medicine is a very complicated subject, Lane.  Anyone can make a mistake, and if its because of negligence or incompetence there are actions which can be taken.
Of course there are, because we are civilized people and we live by the rule of law.  But that wont bring the patient back to life, will it?  The point is, outlawing guns wont stop criminals any more that adding ten years to medical school will weed out a doctor who may become an alcoholic ten or fifteen years down the road.  Guns are not the problem.  Its education.  Its hard enough to teach our kids to read and write.  Teaching them to be morally responsible for their actions is immensely more difficult.
But it can be done, Connie.  My daughter has her own gun because I frequently have to be away at night.  Just because she has a gun doesnt mean next week shes going to rob Arts Exxon and kill three or four people.  She doesnt carry that gun in her car, and she doesnt take it to school in her purse.  If some crack head tries to break into this house when Im away, she can at least defend herself.  Shes quite a good shot, you know.
You know its not the same thing, Lane.  Youre a competent law officer and youve taught her how to properly handle a firearm.  Youve taught her when its proper to use a weapon and when its a crime to use one.
And Im sure youre a competent surgeon, he told her.  Youve been trained how and when to use a knife on a patient.  But what makes you different from that hypothetical doctor whos running late at the office when he has a big evening planned with his wife?  So he hurries a little too much and someone is seriously injured or dies.  The only difference, Connie, the real difference between you and that other doctor, between my daughter and some street punk with a gun, is a personal sense of responsibility.  You cant pass a law and say that everyone will now be responsible for his or her actions.  The most you can do is catch them and punish them when they break the law.  Thats all we can try to do.
Connie stopped to sip her coffee while she digested his words.  I guess you are in favor of capital punishment also, arent you?
Actually, no, but not for the reasons you must think.  I think that every gardener must weed his garden if he wants to grow good vegetables.  I think a rancher has to cull certain cattle from his herd, or a shepherd cull sick and diseased sheep.  I think its in the public interest if a rabid dog has to be destroyed, just as Im sure you sometime decide that a limb must be amputated if the patient is going to survive.
But our cockeyed legal system has gotten turned upside down.  It costs a little better than twenty-five thousand a year to keep a man in prison.  If you sentence him to life, and you assume that will amount to about forty years, then itll cost you a million dollars.  I mean itll cost you and me and all the other tax payers a million dollars to protect ourselves from a person convicted of a capital crime.
When you sentence that same criminal to the gas chamber or the electric chair, there are automatic appeals and lots of other rigmarole which go into effect.  The convicted person may spend ten to twenty years in prison while the legal issues are examined before an execution is actually carried out.  By that time, we the taxpayers, will have spent about two million dollars to destroy a mad dog that any pet owner could have told you should be eliminated from our society.  Thats the reason I am not in favor of capital punishment.  It simply costs less to keep a man locked up for the rest of his days.  In the end, I guess thats a worse punishment than death.
Now thats an argument Ive never heard before.  Capital punishment is a waste of tax dollars.  But if the figures you quoted are accurate, I can see why you feel that way.
Oh, theyre accurate all right.  Im in a position to know.  Im sorry, I guess Ive been sounding off like Im on my own personal soapbox.
Well, this is your home and I did ask.  Id say you have a right to express your opinion.
Right now I have a duty to move a couple of cars and get that helicopter safely on the ground here.  I better get to it.  Will you be all right here?
I dont see why not.  My patient would be snoring soundly if he werent so doped up.  I guess Ill be okay a little while longer.
Thanks for listening to me, he said.  He planted a kiss on her forehead and headed for the door.
Connie watched his back as he left the room.  What a strange man.  She wondered how many people he had shot in his career.  He didnt seem to be troubled at all because hed shot Dunlop.  Did a person get hardened to killing if that was part of their job?  She certainly hoped not.  She liked Lane.  She was beginning to like him quite a lot.  She didnt think she could love a man who couldnt feel remorse after shooting another human being.
Lane got into his cruiser and drove it around the corner and about three hundred yards up the street that ran beside his house.  There were no more homes out this way.  In fact, the street itself petered out just a little further on when it started up the hill and into the trees.  He turned off the road and drove cross-country in the direction of his home for a short distance then turned the car around and got out.
The land here was high desert, mostly sand, some rock, a little sagebrush, creosote bushes, and gobernadora.  No wires overhead, no trees nearby, and no brush tall enough to strike the helicopters tail rotor when it touched down.  He wet a finger in his mouth and held it up to judge the wind direction.  A very slight breeze, no more than five miles per hour, was blowing from the north.  He positioned the police cruiser so that it faced south and killed the lights.  He got out and walked back to Connies car and drove it into the vacant field.  He parked it at right angles to the cruiser and about fifteen yards away.  The idea was to let the pilot guide to the landing zone using the high intensity blue and red lights of the cruiser, and allow the pilot to be able to judge the landing point using the headlights of Connies car.  For the moment, he killed the engine and left the lights off.  Then he went back to his cruiser and set down to wait.
He had a fine view overlooking the town of Valley Forks.  A half moon was high in the sky and bathed the valley in a cold white light.  Valley Forks was such a small town, there were so few streetlights, light-pollution was at a minimum.  In college hed taken astronomy as an elective only because it interested him and he needed the three credits.  Maybe he should spend a few bucks and buy a good reflector telescope and bring Tutu up here and teach her about the night sky.  On second thought, he decided against that.  She spent so much of her time taking care of her old man right now it wouldnt be fair to impose upon her any more.  Soon shed be out of high school and off to college.  What would he do then?  Stay here in this one-horse town and hand out an occasional speeding ticket?  Not much of a future in that.
He watched a falling star streaking across the sky from southeast to northwest.  It fell from sight but his attention was attracted by the flash of a strobe light in the sky to the northeast.  His radio crackled.
Nye seven-one-nine, this is LifeFlight Zero-three.  You copy?
He picked up the handset and keyed the mike.  This is seven-one-nine, Zero-three.  Affirmative, I have you in sight.  Give me two minutes and Ill light the LZ for you.  Standby.  He dropped the mike and went to Connies car and turned on the headlights.  Returning to his car he hit the switch for the light bar and set his roof lights rotating.
By now he could see the helicopters red running light on the port side.  Zero-three, this is seven-one-niner.  I should be at your eleven oclock low.  Look for the red and blue lights of a patrol car.
Roger, seven-one-nine.  I see you now.  Say winds and hazards please.
This is seven-one-nine.  Winds light from the north.  There are no obstacles taller than fifty feet within fifty yards of the LZ.  Suggest you approach directly over the lights and touch down when you have headlights at your nine oclock.  Copy?
Roger.  Well pass over you at about five hundred above ground level and do a one-eighty degree turn onto final approach.  My EMT wants to know the condition of your injury.
The patient is under a doctors care now, about two hundred yards from the LZ.  Well need a litter for transport.  Wounds are not immediately life threatening but still critical.  Patient is comatose but could be dangerous when roused.  Suggest you use restraints.
Affirmative seven-one-nine.  Thanks for the info.  Were passing over your position now.
Above him, the helicopters landing light flicked on.  The pilot played the beam to the left and right while he made his down wind leg and then a hundred and eighty degree turn, losing altitude and entering his final approach.  Lane watched and said nothing.  The pilots aboard had much more experience than he had at this.
The helicopter came in at a steep angle.  It flared nose up about thirty feet in the air, finally stopping at a ten-foot hover.  Two heads popped out of sliding doors on each side and talked the pilot down the last few feet, reassuring him there were no nearby obstacles.  When the aircraft had touched down and the main rotor slowed to ground idle, one of the figures jumped out, then reached back in to grab a litter.  The man was wearing an orange flame-retardant flight suit with a white helmet.  He ran over to Lane and pushed up the visor on his helmet.
Wheres the patient? he panted.
Not too far.  Come with me.  Lane led the man across the field and through the gate in the fence at the rear of his property.  The porch light came on as they sprinted for the steps.  Connie opened the door and stood aside as they wrestled the litter through the pantry and into the living room.
The EMT knelt down and looked Dunlop over.  Whats the story? he asked.
Connie rapidly filled him in on his vital signs and the actions she had taken to reduce the bleeding and what medications she had given him.  Lane and the EMT strapped the man onto the litter and hustled him through the kitchen and out the back door.  After they had loaded Dunlop aboard the helicopter Lane moved out of the area of rotor-wash while the aircraft lifted off.  By his watch the mercy flight had been on the ground no more than eleven minutes.  He went to his cruiser and picked up the radio mike.
Zero-three, this is seven-one-niner.  Thanks for the service.  You folks have a safe flight.
Roger, sir.  You did a good job selecting and marking the LZ.  I think youve done this before.
A few times in the Army and while I was a cop in Long Beach, Lane admitted.  I keep my fingers crossed that I wont have to do it very often.
Amen, brother, came the reply.  The sound of beating rotors soon faded away and Lane drove Connies car around and parked it in front of his house again.  He walked back and got his cruiser then pulled it into the driveway and went into the house.
Connie was straightening up the living room and folding his blankets.  Looks like we didnt get much blood on the sofa, but these blankets need to go in cold water right now.  Let me throw them in the washer and then Ill go with you back to the Wheaton house.
Who said I was going anywhere, he asked.
You dont have to say anything, Lane.  Im beginning to know how you think.  You want to look the scene over again in case you missed anything, and you want to lock the doors and windows so no one will disturb the place tonight.  Im surprised you dont plan on spending the night there like you did with the Winscott case.
Not a chance.  At Winscotts I slept outside in my pickup.  I wouldnt spend the night in the Wheaton place if you promised me a months vacation with pay.  But why do you want to go?
Im the medical examiner for this county.  At least, Im one of them.  Im hoping I can get a better idea of whats happening here if I get a look at the scene of the crime.
Its not very pretty, Connie, he said glumly.
Lane, its my job, just like you have yours.  For the past four years Ive scrubbed in the ER while we worked on the survivors of three car pile-ups.  Ive done post mortems on crash victims, fire victims, and two shootings.  You know, when you go to medical school, the first thing they do is assign a cadaver for you to work on.  If youre going to be a Nervous Nellie, they want to wash you out without wasting much time.  Ive earned my spurs.  Actually, Im planning on going into forensic pathology as my specialty.
Good Lord!  Why would a lovely person like you want to get into such a hideous job?
Economic reasons, actually.  The average civilian simply has no comprehension of the exorbitant prices a doctor must pay for malpractice insurance.  Those premiums are substantially lower when the patient is already dead.  Without insurance, youre opening yourself up to a lawsuit that can bankrupt an individual, even if you win, every time a patient sits down for a consultation.
Youre right, I had no idea.  Okay, Doc, lets take my car in case something comes over the radio.
They quickly pulled up in front of the Wheaton house and double-parked in front of the row of cars.  Lane hopped out and went around to open Connies door for her, but she had already jumped out and was halfway up the walk.
Watch where you step, he cautioned her as they entered the living room.  This is still a crime scene.
Connie flipped on the living room lights and walked around making cursory examinations of the bodies while trying to avoid the heaviest blood spatters.
Is this the way you found them?
Pretty much so.  I had to move the Wheaton girl off Rose Dunlop.  She was sprawled on top of Rose, head to foot, with a fire place poker all the way through her and going into Rose.  Rose was barely alive, I could hear her gasp and see bubbles in the blood at the corner of her mouth.  She died before I could do anything.
Probably would have died anyway, Connie said.  She bent over and stuck two fingers in Dana Wheatons mouth and pulled something out.  God!  Cannibalism!  Who would have thought it here?
I would.  Dont you get a creepy feeling just being here?
Now that you mention it, I do.  Its like molten lead right in the middle of my stomach, like something awful is about to happen.  I guess its what a man on a scaffold might feel after the hood is lowered over his face.  Any moment, you know the trap will spring and drop you into eternity.  Its a feeling of absolute she fumbled for precise words.
Terror? Lane offered.
I think dread is more like it.  You know that its coming, that any moment could be your last, but theres nothing you can do to stop it.
Yeah, dread.  Thats just what I felt when I was here earlier.  Thats just what I felt at Winscotts and at the Espositos.  Its the one thing each of these cases has in common.  At Winscotts I could feel something in the room with me and it frightened me.  I wanted to pull my gun and kill it, but there was nothing for me to shoot at, no target.  It was inside me and yet it was all around me.
Connie looked closer at items on the coffee table, on the end table, and on the kitchen table.  Look, she said pointing to a cough drop tin on the coffee table.  Lane followed her lead and spotted the roach clip, the papers, and the dried green leaves in the tin.
They were doing grass, he said.  Sure must have been some awful potent stuff.
Maybe that wasnt all.  I assume there was wine in those glasses, but I need to try and find an empty bottle in the kitchen.  Marijuana, alcohol, I wonder what else?
Several of the large candles Dana had lit for the evening were still burning.  Connie examined the puddle of melted wax on one of them.  Theres something in the wax here.  Looks like tea leaves, or something.  She puffed on the candle and the flame went out.  Snuff out the rest of these candles so nothing catches fire.  In the morning, make sure the crime scene unit collects a sample of this stuff for analysis.
Sure thing.  Any idea what it might be?
Not a hint.  But its fragrant, sort of.  Maybe its some herb or spice like cloves or orange zest, something to make a pleasant aroma in the room.
Lane continued around the room making sure all the candles were out.  He still didnt like the creepy feeling that was turning his spine to ice water and making the hair on his neck stand up.  He wanted out of here.  He wanted Connie to get out of here.  Hell, he could knock her out and carry her out of here!
Connie went into the kitchen to continue her snooping.  The dishes were neatly arrayed in a strainer on the sink, with moisture still puddled on the rubber mat beneath them.  Several kitchen drawers were standing open as if someone had been searching for something.  Her eyes fell on a stainless steel meat cleaver with a simulated wood handle.  Her fingers picked it up before she was aware of what she was doing.  She heard a mewing in the laundry room and lifted the cleaver high in her right hand while she went to investigate.
It was a cat.  It had orange and yellow markings and amber eyes.  It cowered between the wall and the washing machine.  It hissed at her and that angered her.  Shed fix that filthy beast!  With her anger and an increase in her pulse rate came a pounding in her ears. Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  From somewhere else she imagined a chorus of Indian shamans working a spell, calling upon the spirits of their world and the next. Hey!-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh! Boom-boom-boom-boompity!
She flexed her knees and advanced on the animal while in a half crouch.  Still holding the shining cleaver above her she said, Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.  Come here baby and Ill cut your fucking head off.  She said it in a soft and soothing voice and the cat ventured to stick his head and shoulders out just a little bit.  Here kitty, come to momma.  Cmon now, dont make me come and get you.  Connie was unaware of the way her eyes seemed to glow as she went after the tiny cat.  They glowed an evil red like the eyes of a wolf or coyote caught in a poachers spotlight at night.  A flaming, evil red!
The cat took a few tentative steps toward her and she prepared to lunge and swing the cleaver with every ounce of strength she could muster.
Suddenly powerful arms gripped her from behind and held her tightly.  She tried to whirl around and found she was being held too tight to break the powerful grip.  Someone was dragging her backward, away from the cat.  Her heels scraped across the floor and one shoe caught on the edge of a throw rug.  The shoe came off and the rug was left twisted and curled on the floor.  She struggled harder and harder.  Her brain was seized with a maddening fury.  If only she could swing the cleaver at her attacker!  The frenzied rhythm still beat in her ears and she could feel it down in her bones. Boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Hey!-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!
She could see bodies around her now.  Bloody bodies held in the grip of painful deaths.  She was going to kill someone too, just as soon as she could free herself from this vise-like grip.
She felt, as well as saw, herself being dragged through the open front door and there he paused for a moment.  The hand gripping her right arm loosened slightly and she though maybe he was tiring.  Maybe she could break free!  Instead, the hand slid up her arm to grasp her wrist and smash the back of her hand against the doorjamb.  Once!  Twice!  Three times with enough force she thought the bones in her hand would break.  She lost her grip on the cleaver and it flew from her hand and across the room.  Then she felt herself dragged into the chill of the night air.  Someone threw her onto the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of her and then a heavy weight crashed down on top of her.  She was dazed and lost consciousness.  She still heard the rhythm and the chanting, boom-boom-boom-boompity!  Hey!-yanh-yanh-yanh-yanh!  Gradually it faded away into nothingness as did her last sight and thoughts of the bodies in the house of evil.
When she awoke, Lane was sitting beside her.  His knees were drawn up to his chest and he was panting for breath.  He saw her waken and quickly grabbed both her wrists.  Easy now, Connie.  Everythings all right.  How do you feel?
Oww, my ribs hurt.  What did you do to me?
Just tried to keep you from hurting yourself, maybe hurting me, too.  You sure looked like you were getting ready to hurt that cat in there.
What cat? she asked.  She shook her head, trying to clear the cotton from her brain.  Will you let me go now?  I want to get up.  Whats the matter with you?  Why are you looking at me like that?
I want to make sure you wont swing at me.  Are you feeling okay?
Yes, but like a ton of bricks have fallen on me.  I guess this is what the quarterback feels like after hes been sacked?
Youre not going to try and hurt me are you?  Or yourself?
Hurt you?  Whatever are you talking about?
Connie, in the kitchen you had a meat cleaver in your hand.  You ware about to swing at the cat when I stopped you.  Then you tried to swing at me.  Fought like a wild cat, you did.
No!  I couldnt have!
Believe it, kid.  You were trying to kill me.  Its something in the house.  Maybe its something in the air.  It gets into you and makes you lose control.  Turns you crazy, even.  I think thats what happened to those teachers, and I think thats what happened at Espositos and Winscotts too.  Weve got to find out what kind of force is causing this.
Ill say.  She stood up and straightened her skirt.  I really tried to kill you? she asked.
Well, I cant say what you were thinking, but it sure looked like it to me.  Just like when Dunlop came out of the house with that knife tonight.  He was spaced out to the gills.  I dont think it was a sex party that got too kinky, I think it had something to do with what they were smoking.  That must have been some powerful stuff.
Why did it affect us?  We werent smoking any.  Any chemical agents contained in the smoke must surely have settled or dissipated while were transporting Dunlop.
Youd think so, but maybe its just more powerful than we imagined.  Look, I could feel it getting into me also.  I wont tell you what I wanted to do to you, but when I found you getting ready to butcher that cat all I could think of was that we had to get out of there.  After I got you out here, you sort of passed out.  I guess whatever it was has gone out of our systems by now.
Please, God, I hope so.  I havent known you very long, Lane, but I think attempted murder might put a quick end to any relationship we might have.
I wouldnt like that, he said.
Me neither.  Okay, lets lock that place up and go home.  Well call Tonopah and make sure that the crime scene investigators bring gas masks tomorrow, perhaps they can use haz-mat gear.  Thats all I can think of now.
Maybe itll be gone by then.  It didnt seem to linger overnight at Winscotts.
Gas masks, she said firmly.  Whatever it is, we wont take any more chances than necessary.
Lane recalled that the back door to the Wheaton house had been locked when he was here earlier in the evening.  He told Connie to get in the cruiser while he went around and double-checked just to make sure.  It was.  Then he came around to the front and examined the door.  He found that he could lock the door from the inside and it would stay locked when he pulled it closed.  He locked it now figuring anyone could reach in through the broken glass in the morning to unlock the door.
It was just past midnight when they returned home.  Lane poured himself two fingers of bourbon and drained it quickly.  He held the bottle for Connies inspection and asked if she wanted a drink.
I sure could use one after tonight.  With a little Pepsi and some ice?
Sure thing, he promised.  He took the bottle to the kitchen and fixed her drink.  Then he poured another two fingers for himself.
Why dont you go on up to bed? he asked.  I still have to write up a report and FAX it to Tonopah.
Ill wait for you, she said.
Connie, Im not feeling particularly amorous tonight, he pleaded.
Neither am I, Lane, but I definitely want to be held.  Would that be all right with you?
Comforting Nervous Nellies is my specialty, maam.  Give me twenty minutes and Ill be done here.
Ill see whats on the tube, she said.
Lane sat down at his desk and booted his computer.  He heard the TV come on in the living room.  Connie had tuned into the last fifteen minutes of The Tonight Show.  He opened his word processor application and quickly drafted a nine-paragraph report.  He was actually a fairish typist, having had quite a bit of practice pounding an old manual typewriter when he was in the military police.  Army paperwork was even more troublesome than police paperwork, if that could be possible.  Fortunately, word processors made strikeovers a thing of the past.  Grammar and spell checkers helped too, even if they were sometimes frustrating to use.
He went over the two-page report and changed a few lines to make the wording more concise and direct.  He outlined what he knew to be fact and drew no insupportable conclusions, though he did mention Connies warning about gas masks.  When he finished his report he printed it to the FAX.  After it had been zapped into electronic limbo he printed a hard copy for his own files.  One thing he had learned in the Army, always save a file copy, C-Y-A, cover your ass.
Letterman when he went back into the living room.  Connies eyelids were drooping heavily and he considered covering her with a blanket and leaving her on the sofa.  No, she said she needed to be held.  Well, dammit, so did he!
He roused her gently and they went upstairs.  They both undressed and fell into bed making spoons.



Chapter 7

Tutu was up early and had coffee ready when Lane came downstairs.  He pulled back a chair and sat down.  She slid a cup of coffee in front of him.
Looks like you got lucky again, she commented.  More likely, Connie is just taking pity on a poor, lonely widower.
Lucky?  Yes, I guess.  I dont know what Ive done to deserve the company of such a nice lady, but I hope she never changes her mind.  Though I might add, I dont think its any business of yours.  He wasnt really snapping at her, just politely telling her to butt out of his affairs.
Whoa, dad.  Of course its my business.  But, if you want my opinion, I think shes great.  Where is she?
In the bathroom last time I saw her.  Making herself beautiful.
Thats what I call gilding the lily, Tutu said.  I dont have any fresh fruit for your oatmeal this morning.  What do you think about strawberry preserves?
Whats with this oatmeal thing, Tutu?  Cant I have ham and eggs like a normal grown man, or bacon and eggs?  How about steak and eggs once in awhile?
When you and Connie get hitched, dad, you can have whatever she thinks is good for you.  As long as Im chief cook and bottle washer in this asylum, you get what I think is good for you.  She slid the bowl of oatmeal in front of him with a jar of preserves on the side.
When I was in the Army, theyd call this mutiny, you know?  He decided to pass on the preserves and settled for drowning the glutinous porridge with milk.
Good morning all, Connie said as she breezed into the kitchen.  Umm, the aroma of fresh coffee in the morning is something I would gladly kill for, Tutu.  She went to the coffee machine and poured herself a cup.
Better get it now, Lane said.  Next week itll probably be on her black list and all youll get is herbal tea.  Tutu is going to see that I have a healthy breakfast if it kills me.
Connie sipped her coffee and savored the morning jolt of caffeine.  Nonsense, moderation is the watchword.  Stop by my office next time youre in Tonopah for a staff meeting.  Ill write you a prescription for at least two cups to begin every morning.  Im sure Tutu would never go against your doctors advice.
Tutu scowled across the table.  Connie!  How can I make sure he sticks to a healthy diet if youre going to undermine my admittedly limited influence on him?  When we go out, all he ever orders is chili.  At home, I can at least try and get him to eat something nourishing.
And Im sure youve done a very good job, darling.  Your dad looks like hell be good for another fifty years, at least.
Well, I guess thats a compliment, of sorts.  Thanks.  Say, are you and my dad getting serious?
Connie glanced at Lane who looked like he was in the beginning stages of terminal apoplexy.  She gave the merest flicker of her hand in his direction and said to Tutu, Your dad and I are very serious, Tutu, she said with a smile and a wink at Lane.  Were seriously very good friends.  Okay?
She said it with an impish twinkle in her eye that made Tutu smile.  Oh, mind my own business, is that it?  Well, thats pretty much what dad said, but a girl can hope, cant she?
Lane reached out and took Connies hand.  If were about to do anything serious, Tutu, I promise youll be the first to know.  He didnt know if he was should say anything more and was glad when the ringing of the telephone interrupted him.  He excused himself from the table and went into his office carrying his coffee.  The voice on the other end of the line was Noah Denton.
Mauler, the Sheriff has flipped over this!  Do you know how many murders we had in this county last year?  Six, thats how many, six murders in the second largest county in the country!  And now you put this on his plate.  Elections are getting closer all the time, Mauler.  Are you aware of that?
Yes, Noah.  I know when the elections will be, but I didnt murder any of these people.  Nor was I aware that any of the murders were about to occur.  You dont expect me to go around peeking in every window on my beat, do you?
Cripes, no!  But, I want you to know what kind of heat Im catching and how much flack I have to run for you.  Youve been around the block, Lane.  You know that shit runs downhill.  Now what have you got?
Lane filled him in on the few details he hadnt put in his report and briefly hinted at Connies hypothesis that some hallucinogen could be behind the recent spate of violence.
Okay, that makes sense.  Maybe we can leak to the press that were investigating the possibility that mind-altering drugs were behind last nights tragedy.  Bunch of young college kids, kinky sex, drugs; yeah, its a plausible leap.  But, youre going to have to dig up some explanation on what kind of drugs and where they might have been obtained.  A drug problem will seriously affect the Sheriffs re-election campaign as much as unchecked violence.  You know what the public expects from law enforcement.  They dont want drugs or crime in the newspapers, and they dont want the law to step on any toes while they keep it out of the county.
But thats an impossible task, Noah.
You know that, I know that, but the voters dont accept impossible.  They just want results.
Right.  I know the drill.  Ive got some samples of suspicious material that Dr. Conried is going to have analyzed.  Shes going to run more than just the usual toxicology screens on blood samples from the victims.  Were doing our best, starting this morning.
Not to change the subject, Lane said, but what have you heard about the Dunlop man air-lifted out of here last night?  Hes the best thing to a witness Ive got right now.
I checked with Ely this morning before I briefed the old man.  Looks like Dr. Conried did a good job stopping the immediate loss of blood and preventing the patient from going into shock.  Dunlop is off the critical list and we will probably be allowed to question him tomorrow some time.  Im sure the Sheriff will personally want to be in on that.  Ely isnt any bigger than we are and their hospital doesnt have a detention wing, so they are making due by handcuffing Dunlop to his bed and posting a guard on his door.  But, they did take blood samples from Dunlop last night, and theyve agreed to do a complete screening.  We should have input from them in a few days.
I guess thats a step in the right direction, Lane said.  I cant explain it, but when I was in that house last night, I swear I could feel enough evil to make me go off my rocker, and it wasnt because of a lot of dead bodies.  He decided not to tell about Connies reaction and her attempt to decapitate the cat.
Okay, well develop any lead we can find, no matter what direction it takes us.  Im sending Alice Lawton down with the crime scene unit.  Theyre on the way as we speak.  You let her deal with the press, okay?  Shes fully briefed on the official story.  Shes the senior of our two matrons in the department, and public information is her strong suit.  If anyone can put a favorable spin on this for us, Alice can.
Lane recalled meeting the fiftyish matron while he attended one of the departments regular policy meetings.  She covered her graying hair with a brunette rinse that made her look very much like Little Orphan Annie or Shirley Temple.  Beneath her grandmotherly appearance he knew she had a drill sergeants drive and would let nothing keep her from her duties.
Noah told Lane that the crime scene unit had left Tonopah at six-thirty.  Glancing at his watch he found that hed been on the phone nearly twenty minutes.  It was almost seven-thirty and he could expect them to arrive any time.
He ended his conversation with Noah and went to the kitchen.  Connie and Tutu were doing the dishes.  He grabbed his bowl from the table and quickly swallowed the last three bites and passed the spoon and bowl to them.
Dad? Tutu asked.  Connie says there wont be any school today on account of an accident at Miss Wheatons home.  Do you know what thats all about?
All we know, Hon, is that the six teachers were having some sort of party and something went very wrong.  Mr. Dunlop is the only one who survived and hes been airlifted to the hospital in Ely.  That brings up another subject; since you wont be going to school today, why dont you spend the morning on the phone?  I want you to call the families of every student and say that school has been canceled until further notice.  Will you do that?
Sure, dad, but what do I do about the ones who dont have a phone?  Theres Jimmy Foster, and the Dupree twins, and Brenda Scofield.
Why dont you take your van over to the school and wait in the parking lot and give them the word as soon as they show up?  That way their ride can take them back home.
By the time I finish phoning everyone who has a phone, the rest will be at the school anyway.
Well, take the phone book, and use my cell phone.  You can make your calls from the school.  Will that work?
Sure, I guess so.  What will you and Connie be doing?
I have to drive back to Tonopah and get started doing some autopsies, Connie said.
I have to go over to the Wheaton house, and I better get there quick.  The under-sheriff told me the crime scene unit left Tonopah over an hour ago.  So, if you ladies will excuse me?  He planted a kiss on Connies cheek and reminded her to drive carefully.
Lane was the first one on the scene at the Wheaton house.  He parked across the street and reached through the broken front door window to unlock the place.  In the light of day, the gruesome scene didnt fill him with dread nearly as much as it had last night.  Still, it was sickening seeing all those young people and the hideous way they had died.  Come to think of it, there really isnt any pleasant way to die, not even dying in bed of old age.  By that time youd be lucky if you hadnt gone senile and been forced to wear diapers because youd lost control of your bodily functions.  How depressing!  
Where had those thoughts come from, Lane wondered?  Was it the deathly atmosphere of this place?  Or did he harbor some secret wish to die quickly?  Like in a car crash, or a shoot-out with criminals.  His was normally an upbeat kind of personality.  Morbid thoughts like this were out of place in his day-to-day affairs.  It had to have something to do with the crime scene.  He went quickly through the house to the back door and opened it, then opened windows throughout the house as he worked his way back to the front door and into the yard.
A dark blue utility van with the county seal on the side was the first to arrive.  Harvey Buckhorn stepped out with his camera in one hand and a small black bag in the other.  The black bag held tools of the trade: finger print kit, Luminol, tweezers, magnifying glasses of various strengths, plastic baggies and evidence tags.  There were a hundred and one items that law enforcement agents had found useful when conducting their investigations.  Some were highly specialized, like the Luminol, which made the most minute traces of blood phosphorescent when exposed to ultraviolet illumination.  Others were simply useful like the plastic baggies.  Buckhorn took two steps away from the vehicle then remembered something he had forgotten.  He went back, reached in, and brought out an olive colored canvas bag.  He stopped in front of Lane just before going into the house.  Almost forgot my gas mask.  Whats this supposed to be about, Lane?
Cant say for sure, Harvey.  I hope the gas mask wont be necessary.  I went through the house and opened all the doors and windows a short while ago.  Last night when Dr. Conried and I were here, there was something which affected our thinking.  Caused hallucinations, or something.  I felt it again this morning, but not as strongly as last night.  Still, it might be a good idea to keep your gas mask nearby.  Whatever it is can sneak up on you real fast, and I do mean fast.  One minute youre right as rain, not quite puking up your guts at the death scene all around you then, pow!  Next thing you know youre about to pull your piece and blast holes in the wall.  Know what I mean?  Harvey nodded.  So if you feel anything strange, put your gas mask on.  Do it quick!  Okay?
Sure thing, Lane.  The driver of the van came up the walk and Harvey introduced him.  "This is Ron Aldritch, a medical technician from the hospital.  He also assists the sheriffs office and the coroners office.  Ron, Lane Mauler, deputy in charge of the Valley Forks area.  Lane stuck out his hand and grasped Aldritchs outstretched hand.  Aldritch was about his age, mid-thirties, but several inches shorter and quite a few pounds heavier.
Glad to meet you, Lane.  Ive seen several of your cases when they came through the morgue.  Sure puzzles me as to whats going on in your area.
Me too, Ron.  I want to point out a couple things that Dr. Conried wants collected for analysis.  Follow me.  He led the way into the house.  He took the two men inside and got them started with the investigation.  Harvey began snapping pictures of everything that might vaguely assist in their investigation.  Lane pointed out the foreign material in the candle wax and marked evidence tags as Aldritch scraped them up with a pocketknife.  He heard a second vehicle pull up outside and left them to carry on while he went out front.
The vehicle he saw was a remote camera truck from KVGS.  Pam Demming got out of the passenger seat, showing a well-turned leg and expensive heels as she stepped down.  She held a wireless mike in one hand and gave Lane a familiar smile as she walked toward him.  Her video man, Frank Cotter, got out of the drivers seat with his camera and closely followed her.
Well, Deputy Mauler, we meet again.  Her teeth were flawlessly even, most likely capped.  Her smile looked sincere though he knew it went on as easily as lipstick and she used it like any other cosmetic to enhance her appearance.
Lane touched the brim of his hat.  Miss Demming.  Pleasure to see you again.
Are you going to give me the story on this one, deputy?  Weve heard rumors about orgies and multiple homicides.  Again the forced smile as if perhaps sex appeal could drag information from him.
Lane was saved from answering when another vehicle from the sheriffs office pulled up.  If youll come with me, maam, Lane said as he took her elbow, Id like to introduce you to Mrs. Alice Lawton from the county office.  Shell have a statement for you.
Pam Demming didnt seem at all happy at being foisted off on an official spokesperson, but what could she do?  She shook hands with Alice with all the enthusiasm of a boxer touching gloves before a match.  Glad to be free of dealing with the press, Lane busied himself by stringing yellow crime scene tape around the front and rear doors of the house.
Aldritch went out to the coroners van and brought in five body bags.  After he and Lane had taped baggies around the hands of each body, they bagged them and Lane helped him carry them out to the van.  It was a nauseating chore but it kept him away from the press, and out of trouble.
Tim Fulton, a rookie deputy with only two months more time with the sheriffs department than Lane, had arrived with Alice Lawton.  The three deputies and one civilian technician worked steadily while Alice mollified the Demming woman and the video photographer captured his footage.  By the time they had finished cleaning up the crime scene the TV truck had departed, evidently in a hurry to get their video back to Las Vegas.
Lane went over and shook hands with the matron from the sheriffs office.  Nice seeing you again, Alice.  Sorry I had to dump La Demming on you, but Noah Denton told me you would give the press the sanitized version of last nights happenings.
Thank nothing of it, Lane.  Its my job and I enjoy being politely tactful with the members of the press, almost as much as I would enjoy breaking a chair over their collective heads.  Actually, Pam Demming is not as bad as some I get.  The TV reporters tend to be the pushiest because they work to shorter deadlines.  The press and magazine reporters are more devious.  They have days or weeks to get the details of their stories, and some of the antics they pull can be quite original.  Last year we had a young lady from a Los Angeles weekly magazine who posed as a relative of a mugging victim.  I almost let her sign for the victims personal effects before I thought to ask for her ID.
Youre too sharp for them, Alice.  Your talent is wasted in the sheriffs office.  You should move to Vegas and be a high priced investigator for some lawyer.
Theres certainly more money in that, but me and Leonard, my husband, are country folks.  We wouldnt fit in with the busy throngs of the big city.
Amen to that.  Same reason my daughter and I moved here.  Are you going in to look over the crime scene?
Me?  Heavens no!  The mere sight of blood absolutely nauseates me.  Ill leave that for you and the crime scene investigators.  She stalked off and took a seat in the cruiser she had arrived in.  Lane chuckled and went back to assist the crime scene unit as they finished up. 
Aldritch and Buckhorn were carrying out the last body.  Lane was glad he wouldnt be driving ninety miles down the road with five bodies in the back of the van.  He could only surmise that Aldritch was used to transporting the dead.  Highway 95, from Vegas north to the Humboldt Sink where it joined with I-80 is the main north-south artery in the state.  Since Nye County was so large, its law enforcement officers could barely cover a small percentage of the speeders on the highway.  Rollovers and head-on collisions were common.  Most cars traveled at such high speeds that survivors were few.  It was one of the reasons why the sheriffs office had a number of officers living at widespread locations throughout the county, where they could quickly respond as situations required but remained under the centralized control and direction of a headquarters a hundred miles away.
When Tim Fulton had finished his investigation inside, he came out and told Lane to go ahead and lockup.  Lane did so.  Looks like they had one hell of a party, Fulton said.  Shame it had to get out of hand.  I used to see Dana and Paul in Tonopah occasionally, shopping, having dinner at the Palace, or maybe just a few drinks and dancing at one of the local nightspots.  Nice looking couple.  Id have thought they would be getting married soon.  I had no idea they were into anything like this.
We cant be sure exactly what anyone was into here, Tim.  Dr. Conried thinks they may not have intentionally been using drugs.  It could be something they were accidentally exposed to that drove everybody over the edge and caused the party to end in a nightmare.
Yeah, well, whatever.  Fulton gave a wave of his hand and went down the walk to his cruiser where Alice Lawton was waiting.  Keep in touch, Lane.  See you at the next staff meeting.
Lane responded with a wave of his own.  Drive careful.  I dont want to have to call Aldritch back to stuff you in a plastic bag.  Fulton got into his cruiser and started the powerful engine.  As he pulled out his rear tires spun on the dirt and threw gravel across the lawn.
Lane got into his cruiser and decided to drive over to the school and see if Tutu might still be there.  The circular drive in front of the building was empty so he figured she was probably at home.  With nothing pressing on his schedule, Lane decided to show the colors so to speak.  It was a good way to clear his head, organize his thoughts, and let a police presence be shown along the highway.  
He drove the cruiser north at a steady sixty-five until he linked up with Highway 50, sometimes called The Loneliest Highway in America.  It was also the northern limit of his home territory.  There he turned around and headed south until he reached Belmont.  His watch showed twelve-forty.  He decided to head for home and a lunch break.
It was one-thirty by the time he got back to the city limits.  The day had grown cloudy and the air had a chill bite to it.  He passed Arts Exxon and was just beginning to turn onto his own street when the radio crackled.
Seven-one-nine this is base, over.
Lane picked up the mike and gave his response.  Sounds of a disturbance and shots fired reported.  See the man at mile four on Live Oak Road.  Lane answered with a Roger, and hung a U.  Back on the main road he turned on his lights but left the siren off.  He pushed the cruiser to eighty-five and held it there.
Live Oak Road was six miles north of the town limits, just past the turn off to the Esposito place, except Live Oak angled off to the right.  Mile four would take him about to where Russ Kingman lived.  Lane pulled off the asphalt as he reached Live Oak Road and raised a cloud of dust behind his cruiser.  For safety, he slowed to just sixty miles per hour.  Russ was the only barber in town.  He owned The Bushwhacker and charged eight dollars for a straight haircut and razor trim around the ears.  No styling, please!  He opened at ten in the morning and closed at six in the evening, except that he stayed closed on Thursday and Sunday.  Partly because he knew everyone in town, but mostly because he was well liked, Russ was also chairman of the Valley Forks Town Advisory Board and had been for twelve years.  This Thursday Russ had been watching a National Geographic video from Martins.  Nature study was a hobby of the sixty-five year old, and todays object of study was the Harp Seal and how it was making a comeback under strict protective regulations of the Department of the Interior.  Russ had been disturbed by the sound of shots coming from his nearest neighbor, Joel Yancey, who lived across the road and a quarter mile further off the highway.  Russ had left his television set and stepped out on his front porch where he could also hear screaming coming from Joels place.  His neighbor had a teenage boy at home who suffered from cerebral palsy and was confined to a wheel chair.  Not wanting to be too inquisitive and risk a chance encounter with a stray bullet, Russ had decided not to investigate in person but to call 911 and let Deputy Mauler investigate.  He was standing down at the fence where his drive met Live Oak Road when Lane arrived in a cloud of dust and quickly braked to a stop.  
Afternoon, Russ.  Got some trouble out this way?
Not me, Lane, but somethins goin on over at Joels place.  I heard his shotgun four or five times already.  There was some screaming a while ago, but its quieted down now.
Okay, Russ.  You did the right thing calling it in.  Ill go take a look; you stay here where youll be safe.
Okay, Lane.  Ill head back up to my easy chair and watch my movie.  You stop by for a cup of coffee before you leave, hear now?
Thanks, Russ.  Lane put the cruiser in gear and sped down the road and turned in at Yanceys drive.  He pulled in to the front yard and skidded to a stop.
Joel Yancey had farmed sixty acres of alfalfa over the years, and had worked as a maintenance man at the mine until it closed.  Since losing that job, the only income he and his wife had was from farming alfalfa and the disability check the government sent to help with the cost of taking care of their son, George.  An older boy was away in the Air Force, and a daughter was married to a rancher in Utah.
The house in front of him was old, it had a few sagging shutters and genuinely needed a new coat of paint, but was otherwise sound.  Joel repaired whatever he could around the place, making old wood do for new and using screws and nails salvaged from other projects.  Two huge cottonwood trees shaded the house and front yard; several more grew around the side and in the back.  Fifty yards to the side of the house was a rickety barn where Joel stored his hay until it could be sold.  He rented the combine which baled the hay, and traded his mechanical labor for the use of a tractor in planting his fields.  Joel and Shirley had never been well off when he was still working at the mine.  Things were much worse now.
Before Lane stepped out of his cruiser he raised headquarters on the high frequency radio and reported his location and status.  Then he got out and went to the Yanceys front door.  He knocked, listened, waited, and knocked again.  Joel! he called out.  Shirley!  Anybody home?
After waiting a polite length of time he put his hand on the doorknob and turned.  The door opened and he poked his head in.  The first thing he noticed was a stale odor.  The smell was reminiscent of burning hemp, but not quite as sweet smelling as marijuana.  He looked around the door and saw a mans legs lying in the hallway.
Lane pulled his Browning and jacked a round into the chamber.  He ran to the body with the intention of checking the throat for a pulse.  Instead he found a gaping hole, ripped flesh and bloody, almost pulverized bone.  Joel Yancey had been shot in the neck with a shotgun at close range.  His throat was blown away exposing the severed cartilage and vertebra of the neck.  All that was holding his head to his body was a thin flap of muscle and skin along the right side of the neck.  His head lay in a vast pool of blood.  He was dead but his body was still warm.  Lane didnt think George, the palsied son, could have done this so he decided to look for Shirley.  Warily he recalled that Russ had said hed heard several shotgun blasts.
Lane looked left and right in the hallway before stepping over the body and checking the bedroom immediately to the right.  It was empty.
Moving in a crouch Lane slid past an empty bathroom to another bedroom.  This one had to be Georges.  There were crayon pictures tacked to the wall, mostly just scribbles and jumbled lines.  There were bottles of prescriptions set on a dresser just beyond the reach of anyone in the bed.  The room had that musty odor of urine and meals eaten in bed that tells you it is a sickroom, but there was no one here.  Lane backed out, went down the hallway, stepped over Joels body and went through the living room to check the kitchen.  He felt an uncomfortable presence emanating from somewhere in the house.  It was a nameless feeling, something he couldnt identify but which, nonetheless, filled him with a sense of foreboding evil.  He had felt it before.  It still terrified him.
A fire was burning in the fireplace and the aroma of fresh pine scented the air, not quite overpowering the other, strange aroma.  Lane began feel that tingle of dread that he had felt so vividly last night at the Wheaton place.  What in hell was going on here?
He kept the pistol in his hand extended well in front of him until he got to the kitchen door.  Then he pulled the pistol tightly to his body until he could just peer around the door.  Christ, another body!  Nailed to the wall this time.  Crucified.  Lane glanced in the corners and under the kitchen table.  He could see nothing.
He eased into the room and moved sideways toward the body with his back pressed to the wall.  It was George Yancey, the handicapped son of Joel and Shirley.  His outstretched arms had been nailed to the wall with kitchen forks driven through the wrists.  Evidently the body had been too heavy for the killer to lift completely off the floor for the knees were slightly bent and the feet were still touching the linoleum.  Blood trailed down the wall.  Georges throat had been cut and the head lolled forward with the chin touching the chest.
The table was set for three and Lane assumed that the Yanceys had been eating lunch.  Georges wheelchair was overturned at one side of the kitchen table.  There was no sign of Shirley.  He checked the small pantry and broom closet next to the stove.  Empty also.
Lane went to the back door and pushed it open slightly so he could get a clear view into the back yard.
He felt his cheek stung by flying splinters before his ears registered the bellow of the shotgun.  He dove through the door and rolled down the steps and to the side where he could take cover behind several trashcans.  There was another blast and the side of one of the trashcans crumpled inward.  Lanes ears were ringing from the blast and he didnt hear the pellets as they impacted the can.  He glimpsed the muzzle flash of the shotgun coming from an opening in the front wall of the barn where one of the planks had fallen off.  In the shadows behind it he thought he could make out the vague form of a person.  He fired low, three quick shots.  If the person were crouched perhaps his shots would catch them center of mass.  If the person were standing, his shots might strike in the hips or thighs.
As soon as he fired he rolled to the side, gained his feet and sprinted for shelter behind the thick trunk of a walnut tree a little further to the right and halfway to the barn.  Another blast of shotgun pellets smashed one of the trashcans against the rear wall of the house.  When Lane reached the protection of the tree he threw himself prone to minimize the size of target he presented.  With great caution he peered around the right side of the tree until he could see the ugly black snout of the shotgun pointing from the barn.  The barrel appeared to be drooping, pointing at a spot on the ground halfway between the barn and the rear door of the house.
Lane rolled twice to his right and bounded to his feet.  He covered the remaining distance to the barn running flat out and pressed his back to it.  The rough textured lumber felt good against the thin khaki covering his shoulder blades.  It gave him a small amount of protection and a sense of security.
Moving as quietly as he could, he edged his way to his left until he could peer around the corner of the barn.  He was looking for a window or another door but there was none.  He would have to go to the rear of the building and hope to surprise his attacker from there.  He felt pretty sure that the person with the gun was Shirley Yancey.  He hadnt found her body in the house so where was she?
Moving on cat feet he reached the rear of the barn and quietly edged around the corner.  He ducked past a rusting horse-drawn hay rake and edged his way to the rear door.  Peering into the barn he found he couldnt see a thing in the shadows.  Cloudy as the weather was, it was still much too bright for him to see anything inside the barn until his eyes adjusted to the dim light.  He crossed the open doorway, almost expecting a blast from the shotgun to blow him in half, and sought shelter behind a few bales of hay that had been brought in out of the weather.
Slowly his eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings and he could see her leaning against the front wall of the barn.  With both hands gripping the pistol he steadied it dead center in the small of her back as he crept up to her.  She was only thirty feet away, then twenty-five.  He approached a vertical post supporting the loft and moved behind it.  Slowly he continued to close the distance until she was only fifteen feet away.  She hadnt given any sign that shed heard him and seemed to be focusing her attention on something close to the house.  Perhaps she thought she had hit him when he lay behind the trashcans and hadnt seen him dash to the tree?
He was watching her so intently he failed to see a rake lying across his path.  His right toe caught under the rake and he pitched forward into the dirt and straw that served as a floor in the barn.  When he hit the ground he pushed away with his left hand and ended up in a crouch with his pistol again leveled at her back.  She still hadnt moved and continued to watch the house.
Shirley, Ive got a gun pointed at your back, he said.  I want you to drop the shotgun and raise your hands.  He waited for a response.  When none came he approached her more closely.  Now he was standing only five feet from her.  If she tried to turn around and swing the shotgun in his direction he should be able to knock it from her hands.
Drop the gun, Shirley.  Raise your hands.  Still she gave no reply.  Cautiously he reached under his gun arm with his left hand until his fingers gripped the butt of the shotgun.  He jerked and it easily came away in his hand.  His fingertip grip wasnt enough to hold the weight of the shotgun and it clattered to his feet.  At the same time Shirley was spun clockwise and he found himself staring into her sightless eyes.
The front of her dress was covered with blood from the stomach down.  At least one of his shots from the rear steps had caught her in the abdomen and she had bled to death while leaning against the wall of the barn.  The left shoulder of her sweater was caught on a nail.  It was that nail that had kept her upright, leaning against the barn wall as she died.
For a moment Lane felt some regret at having killed her, but it passed quickly.  There is no more deadly weapon to go up against at close range than a shotgun.  Not even an Uzi or a Mac-10 favored by some criminals for their rapid-fire power.  Those automatic weapons could pour out two and three thousand rounds per minute, exhausting a full clip in under two seconds, but the recoil usually pulled the weapons off target as they fired, unless they were under the control of a highly trained marksman.
A shotgun, however, delivers its full load of shot in a single charge which expands in diameter as the distance from muzzle to target increases.  A twelve-gauge shotgun firing three-inch magnum double-ought buckshot will put nine of its twelve pellets into a thirty-inch target at a range of forty yards.  Just one of those one-third inch pellets can be fatal.  Even if the shot fails to strike a vital organ, the impact of three or four of those pellets can put the body into shock and still be fatal.  Lane thanked his lucky stars Shirley hadnt been a better shot.
He holstered his weapon and grasped Shirley by the shoulders until he could unhook her sweater and lower her to the ground.  This meant more bad news for the sheriff, three new bodies to add to the mess accumulating in Valley Forks.  Lane was beginning to doubt the wisdom of moving his daughter from the crime-ridden city to the supposed safety of a rural environment.
He went around the house instead of going inside and called in his report from the cruiser.  As he expected, Noah Denton was furious but was hampered in his use of language by the fact that he was talking over an open radio frequency.  He reluctantly advised Lane that even though the crime scene unit had been back less than half an hour, he would send them back out right away.
Lane decided to go back down the road and talk to Russ Kingman.  Something was going on here, and he was pretty sure it wasnt Arturos evil spirit of the Anasazi.  Something was causing perfectly normal people to suddenly commit violent atrocities that defied imagination.  As head of the Town Advisory Board, Russ should call a town meeting and get all the local residents together so they could pool their knowledge.  Maybe it was some chemical from the closed mine, slowly seeping into the groundwater beneath the town?  Valley Forks didnt have a municipal water supply, everyone had an individual well.  He couldnt envision a form of contamination that would strike Larry Winscotts place six miles south of town, as well as the Espositos and the Yanceys an equal distance north of the town.  Perhaps they should consult with a hydrologist from the county or state offices?  Perhaps there was some kind of contamination in the underground aquifer?  If so, then why werent more people between these two areas affected?  So far, there had only been the teachers at the Wheaton house.
It went without saying that something had to be done about these unexplained outbreaks of violent behavior.  Lane felt like a hamster running on an exercise wheel.  He couldnt get ahead of the problem.  All he could do was react to events.  Hell, either he or Tutu might become the next statistics!
Lane got behind the wheel of his cruiser leaving a trail of dust behind him as he raced over to Russ Kingmans house.  Seeing the car racing up his half-mile drive Russ came out the front door and was standing on the lawn when Lane pulled to a stop.
You appear to be in a hurry, deputy, Russ said dryly.  What did you find out over at the Yanceys?
I cant figure it, Russ.  I know Shirley Yancey.  I know that she cared for that poor boy of hers as much as any mother could.  And she cared for Joel just as much.  Together they raised two healthy kids and set them on the road to life.  Lord knows they sure did the best they could with George, but it was like beating a dead horse.  There really wasnt much they could do.  I never imagined it would come to this.
Tell me about it, Lane, Russ said in his fatherly, politicians voice.
It looks like Shirley used a shotgun and nearly blew poor Joels head off.  Then she wheeled George into the kitchen and crucified him, pinned him to the wall with a couple kitchen forks and slit his throat.  I didnt think any mother could do that to her own son.  When I got there, she ran out to the barn.  As I came out the back door she fired at me.  Im sorry, but I had to shoot.  You dont take chances when a persons throwing down on you with a twelve-gauge.  Shes dead too.
I dont think you would have fired if youd had a choice, Lane, but what do you expect from me?
Russ, I think its important we call a town meeting as soon as possible.  Weve got to spread the word about whats going on here in the valley and let people take action.
Id like to agree with you, Lane, Russ rubbed his chin, but what do you propose we tell them to do?  Have you identified whatever it is thats causing people to commit these crimes?
Uh, not exactly, Lane stammered.
Then how do you expect to stop whats going on?  You dont know whats going on, any more than I do.  It would take a couple days to arrange a meeting.  One that most of the people could get to, you know that much.  Weve got people working dayshifts and nightshifts, working up north of here as well as down south of here.  It would take a couple days at least to get the word spread around the town, and then we couldnt be sure how many people could attend.  We usually have our monthly meetings on a Sunday afternoon, and we seldom have more that one fourth of the locals there.
But, this is important, Russ! Lane pleaded with him.
Granted, I agree with you, its important, but we have no idea what were dealing with, and no idea what to do about it.  We cant do more than tell people to be sure and lock their doors and windows, and even then we cant be sure that the danger wont come from within their own family.  You cant expect me to warn people to look out for their husbands and wives, or their children as potential killers, can you?  How could you expect people to live that way?  Now, you come back to me when youve got something that we can act on, and Ill do my best to accommodate you.  But you havent shown me anything but a lot of bodies so far.
If we dont do something, theres going to be a lot more bodies, Russ.
Im sorry about that, Lane.  Be reasonable, you havent given me a course of action that I can act on.  Have you?
No, youre right.  Ive been acting like Chicken Little shouting the sky is falling!  Maybe Ill have something for you when Dr. Conried finishes the latest autopsies.  When we finish up over at Yanceys, Ill give her a call and see if shes found out anything.
Now thats the right attitude, son.  You take care of the things that you can take care of, then let the rest of the chips fall where they may.  Thats all you or I can do for now, much as wed like to be putting a stop to all this.
Youre right, Russ.  Im so used to being able to take some kind of action that not being able to do anything is starting to get to me.  Ill watch it from now on.
Nobody in town is faulting you for anything, Lane.  Youve only been with our little community a little over three months now.  Youve met pert near everybody, and everybody likes you and your daughter.  Whats more, we all know that you have our best interests at heart.  Now get back over to the Yanceys and finish your work.
Yeah, Lane hung his head and slowly walked back to his cruiser.  He opened the door then turned to Russ, Look, Im sorry if I was out of line.  I just felt we needed to do something.
If I had my hands tied with uncertainty like you, Lane, I would probably be screaming for action too.  There just isnt anything we can do now.  Take it slow, one day at a time.  Well get a handle on this.
Yeah, thanks.  Lane got behind the wheel and started backing down the driveway.  He didnt want to take it slow; one body at a time.  He wondered how many more would have to die before he got a handle on this?
When he pulled up at Yanceys the second time he got out of the car and went around opening every window in the house.  He still didnt know what it was that drove these people to madness, but it seemed to diminish or go away when the place was cleared out.  When he had done that he went back to his car to wait.  While he was sitting there, the first snowflakes began to fall.



Chapter 8

The first flakes of snow hit the hood of his cruiser while the engine was still warm and quickly melted.  In a few minutes the sky had grown much darker and snow was beginning to accumulate on the ground.  Lane pulled his jacket around him and zipped it tight.  The wind wasnt strong, but there was still a bite to the air and it chilled him to the bone.  Being only a few yards away from the three bodies didnt help much.
It was nearly four when the first police car arrived with lights flashing.  It was followed by the coroners van, the same van which had carried away five bodies just this morning.
Noah Denton came stomping out of the first car.  God dammit, Mauler!  This is getting to be too much.  Cant you do anything about this wave of violence?
Like what? Lane asked.  Hed already made a fool of himself once today; he wasnt going to do it again.
Like what, he asks.  Noah tossed his hands in the air in exasperation while his body spun around in a little circle.  Like stopping suspicious persons for questioning.  Like pulling in everyone who has ever had anything to do with drugs for a start.  Like
Yes?
Noah took a deep breath, held it while he counted ten and let it out slowly while he recovered his composure.  Im sorry, Lane, Denton said with sincerity.  I guess you dont have many suspicious persons in Valley Forks.  I know theres very little that a peace officer can do to prevent a crime from happening.  It just galls me that people are killing each other all around us and were left standing with egg on our face.  Has that Demming bitch been back yet?
Not that I know of.  Do you expect her?
She didnt do us any favors on todays news.  Her current rumor is that one or more gangs, who may or may not be involved in the sale and manufacture of drugs, may be operating in the county.  Hell, everybody knows that.  Its like saying the ocean may be wet, or the desert may be sandy.  No hard leads to point to anything, and no way to disprove what she has said, but it does get attention and make headlines.  He changed the subject.  Sorry Ive been ragging on you.  Now, tell me, what do you think happened here?
Lane walked him through the crime scene being careful not to disturb potential evidence.  He recited what he thought to be the probable sequence of events and, lacking any evidence to the contrary, they logged the incident as a probable murder/suicide.
No candles like at the Wheaton place? Denton asked.
None that Ive seen.  Whats your idea?
Dr. Conried said shes found minute traces of cyanide and mercury in all the victims, but not concentrated enough to be hazardous.  Thats to be expected anywhere in mining country.  Run off from the mill gets into everything, but usually not in high enough concentrations to cause any danger.
And these were? Lane asked.
Thats the strange part.  No they werent.  Just trace amounts like youd find anywhere in the valley.
Then she hasnt found anything for us to go on yet either.
Not yet, but shes not finished.  Shes running some kind of tests, chromatic spectrographs or something like that.  I have no idea what she hopes to find, but shell keep us informed.  Thats a smart lady, not to mention good looking.
Yes, real smart, Lane said, hoping his expression wouldnt give away anything more.  Did you have to bring this snow down off the hill with you? he teased.
Share the wealth, I always say.  Its been colder than a witchs tit all morning in Tonopah.  Looks as though well have a few inches accumulated by the time I get home tonight.  I just hope the snow plows are out and doing their job.
You afraid your cruiser wont make it home, Noah?
Hell no!  I just hate to see anybody sittin on their fat ass when I have to be out in this shit.  They both chuckled.  They had been talking long enough for Harvey to get all the pictures he needed, and Ron Aldritch had plenty of time to get the bodies tagged and bagged.  Now they all pitched in and loaded the cadavers into Aldritchs van, then the small procession drove back into Valley Forks where Lane dropped off and went home.
Before the under-sheriff pulled away, Lane broached a painful subject with him.  Painful to him because he hated to admit defeat.
Look, Noah, perhaps Im not cut out for this Barney Fife role and not such quite the hot-shot copy I used to think I was.  If Im not pulling my weight here, you can have my badgeno gripes from me.
I can see why you might feel that way, Lane, but dont get ready to toss in the towel just because youve had a tough one dumped in your lap.
Lane tried to put into words what was really bothering him.  When I was on the force in Long Beach, Noah, I always rode with a partner, someone I could bounce ideas off and we could see how they would fit.  If we were both stumped, there was always the captain of the watch.  I guess what Im trying to say is that Im smart enough to realize I dont know everything.  Once in awhile its good to have someone to exchange information with.
Youre worried that twelve people are dead and you havent a clue, is that right?
I feel responsible that I havent been able to do anything to protect them, Noah.  These are not just people on the street, they are my friends and neighbors.
We feel just as badly up in the head shed, Lane.  All of the victims are taxpayers who depend on the Sheriffs department to provide them with law and order, and yet we dont have any more ideas than you do.  If it will make you feel any better, you can call me at home anytime you want to test one of your pet theories.  Even with all my years wearing a badge, Mauler, Im not much smarter than you.  Perhaps I have a little more experience, but there is no such thing as a lone-wolf police officer like they have on TV.  Were a team and it takes teamwork to protect the public.  Dont think the job is getting too big for you to handle by yourself; weve got a lot of other team players just waiting to help you and work with you.
Then youre not upset with me?
Christ, no, Mauler!  I may blow smoke and breathe fire on occasion, but its mostly my way of letting off steam when the god-damned politicians are on my back and expecting me to work miracles.  You just keep up doing the best you can, and when you need help dont be afraid to ask for some.  You got that?
Sure, Noah.  You couldnt have made that any clearer.
Denton clapped Lane on the back as he put on his Smokey-Bear hat and slid behind the wheel of his cruiser.  I meant what I said about calling me at home if necessary, Lane.  You may be a hundred miles away from head quarters, but youre not alone.  He pulled the door shut and turned the engine over.  Lane touched his fingers to his hat as the under-sheriff drove away.
It was going on six when Lane strode into his home and dropped his leather and weapon on the desk in his office.  He went into the living room where Tutu was watching TV and drinking hot cocoa.
Hey, dad!  Isnt it neat?  The snow, I mean.  If its still there in the morning I think Ill build a snowman if I can find my gloves.
I think it will still be there, honey.  Its really starting to build up out there.  Any messages?  Tutu was very practiced at taking down her dads messages.  When she wasnt home, the answering machine was a poor substitute.
Ive been home all day, after I got back from the school.  The only call was from Connie.  Do you think were going to have school tomorrow?
I doubt it.  I guess its still early enough for me to call Tonopah and get an answer from the superintendent of schools, though I might have to call her at home.
You dont have to do anything on my account, dad.  I was just curious.
Well, Im curious too, so Ill call on my account, all right?  Did Connie say what she wanted?
Probably just a hot date, dad.  Why dont you invite her for dinner again?  Ive got this really neat recipe for Chicken a la Cheryl I can fix.
As long as its not battered in oatmeal I promise Ill like it.  Whats for dinner tonight?
Will you settle for meat loaf?  With mashed potatoes and gravy?  I left a plate for you in the microwave.  Want me to heat it up?
Thanks, Tutu.  Ill eat as soon as I call Connie and the superintendent of schools.
He tried Connie at home first but got only her answering machine.  Next he called her at work and asked for her extension in the morgue.  Its me, he said.  Cheryl said you called?
Lane!  Hi, yes, I wanted to let you know weve got some results back on some of the lab tests of evidence from the Wheaton house.  You remember the foreign material we scraped from the candles?  Well, we got the usual paraffin residue, but weve also got some readings that tend to indicate peyote, that loco weed American Indians used in a lot of their religious ceremonies.  The only curious part is that the levels indicated are about one hundred times as strong as anything listed in the books.  Its like someone took a hundred grams of the stuff and condensed its narcotic effect into just one gram.
So you think its artificial?  Something they might have bought from someone else?  Lanes mind was coming up with more questions.  Could there be a drug lab somewhere in the vicinity?  If so, could he locate it?
Thats possible, but Ive never come across anything like this in the literature.  Peyote, you know, is frequently the cause of hallucinations and may contribute to violent behavior.  I can understand why someone would want to get high and experience mind altering hallucinations, but why would they want the violent side effects?
Maybe it was the high they wanted and didnt know about the side effects.  But would everybody suffer the same side effects?
I wouldnt think so.  Peyote doesnt always engender violent side effects.
Then its unlikely that this is peyote, merely something that looks like it.
Yes, looks like it in lab tests, she said, but it is light-years ahead in other properties.  Im not sure if it is a manufactured drug either.  You know, plants and animals, even bacterial and microbial life all experience spontaneous mutations from time to time.  Mutations can be caused by accidental or intentional combinations with other chemicals, or by cosmic radiation like sunspots, cross pollination of plants by wind or insects, or simply by a genetic throw of the dice.  Mother Nature occasionally throws a curve.  If the new species is strong and healthy, if it can survive better than what it was before, it may breed true and a new species is born.  This could be a mutation of an everyday peyote plant.
God, I hope not.  Can you imagine something like this getting loose in a major city?
Id rather not.  By the way, someone else is looking into the Wheaton incident.  I had two investigators from the government here today.  They took all my specimens from the Wheaton house and Espositos place too.  The additional blood screens we did on the Espositos turned up the same variety of compounds we found at the Wheatons.  But none of the samples from Winscotts are a match.  It looks like he may have been an isolated incident.  That incident occurred quite some time before the others youll recall.  You may see those government folks down in your neighborhood, a Dr. Fresno and a real good looking woman, Dr. Enderman.
What would they come down here for?  Youve got as much information as I do?  Except, that we got another one today.  There are three bodies on the road as we speak.
What kind of circumstances? Connie asked.
Unexplainable, just like the others.  You know the Yanceys?  Son George is in a wheel chair?
Um-hum, was her cautious reply.
Well, it looks like Shirley took Joels head off with a twelve-gauge,   and then crucified George in the kitchen.  Nailed his arms and hands to the wall with kitchen forks.  While I was searching for her she opened up on me with the shotgun.  I didnt have much of a choice."
Shes dead?
Im sorry, but I had no way out.
Sometimes I think you men think with your guns as much as your balls.  Thats what scares me, Lane.  Not just you, its all cops Im concerned about.
Im sorry you feel that way, Connie.  But she didnt give me a whole lot of options.  She fired three shots at me from less than twenty yards.  Im lucky she didnt put me under.
Thats the other thing that scares me about cops, she said.  Just when I find one I think maybe I could love, I have to accept the fact that he might not come home tonight, or tomorrow, or ever.  Im not sure Im cut out for that kind of relationship, Lane.
Is that a hint that maybe we should call off our relationship? he asked.  He was just beginning to feel comfortable with this woman.  Feeling that maybe he could open up with her.
No, Im not saying that.  Its just that Im well, Im scared, Lane.
Arent we all?  Life can be scary, Connie.  The trick is not to let it scare you so much that you avoid living.
I wont do that, Lane.
By the way, Tutu wants me to invite you for dinner.  She says she wants to test a new recipe.  How about Friday if youre up to it?
Friday sounds good.  Seven oclock?
Perfect.  Ill tell her to set another plate.
Thanks, Ill look forward to it.  And if those government people come to talk with you, lay off that Enderman woman.  Tell her she can go find her own man.
I thought you were afraid of cops? he joked.
Maybe I just need to get to know this cop a little better.  See you Friday.  Kisses!
Kiss back.  See you then, bye.  He hung up.  
Lane wandered into the kitchen and found that Tutu had heated his plate and set it on the table with a glass of water and a cup of coffee.  Besides the meat loaf and potatoes, shed also prepared some carrots and broccoli.  He was beginning to wonder if perhaps she might take this healthy eating too far.  For that matter, he was wondering how much of this good for you stuff she was eating?  Before he sat down he poked his head into the living room.  She was catching the last of the days news.  Lane recognized Pam Demming and heard her speculating about teachers and drugs.  Lane was speculating too.  Only now he had to include some secret government business in his equations.  So far he hadnt enough data to make an educated guess.
Connie says shell be here for dinner, Friday at seven, he called through the open door.
Great!  I really like her, dad.
You havent seen me punching her in the nose, have you?
No, but you might try being a little more charming.  How about sending her some flowers?  You could do it by phone, you know.
Flowers, hmm, Ill think about that tomorrow.
No school?  What did you find out?
To tell the truth, I forgot.  Let me finish dinner before it gets cold, then Ill call.  He squirted mustard from a squeeze bottle onto his meat loaf.
No hurry, dad.  Next month will be fine with me, how about February thirtieth?
Youre dreaming, kid.  Dont you want to graduate and go on to college?  I thought you were anxious to get out of this little spot on the road of life?
Just kidding, dad.  Go ahead and eat.
Hey, this is pretty good.  Whatever Im paying you, its doubled.
Sounds about right.  Two times zero is still zero.
Ill throw in tons of love and affection.
You got a deal!
After Lane finished his dinner and washed the dishes he did call the superintendent of schools.  Mrs. Kearney told him that she was sorry she hadnt had enough notice to find any replacements to fill in today, but there would be four substitutes available for Thursday and school would resume as normal.  Lane thanked her and rang off.
In the living room he told Tutu, Looks like today is your only day of grace, honey.  Tomorrow will be back to normal.
Thanks, dad.  Youre tops.
You almost sound as if you mean that, he teased.
You know I mean it, dad.  But I had plans to build a snowman tomorrow.  Now you tell me well be back to school as usual.
Yeah, life goes on.  Now that Ive had a nice hot meal, I better go out and put the snowplow blade on my county vehicle.  Looks as though well need it come morning.  Id rather get the chore done now when Ive got the time, rather than have to tackle it when its cold and dark before the sun comes up.
He went upstairs for his parka and when he came down he took Tutus keys from the nail in the kitchen so that he could move her car out of the carport and move his Blazer in out of the weather.  His diesel pickup had been relegated to a corner of the back yard where it was covered with a canvas and vinyl car cover.  Once each month he uncovered it and cranked it up to let the engine run for about half an hour.  Maybe it was his Boy Scout be prepared training, or something that stuck with him after he got out of the Army, but he felt the vehicle should always be ready to crank and take to the road. 
He strung a trouble light and a drop cord from the kitchen window and set to work attaching the plow and wheel weights.  Fortunately the instructions were in a plastic bag in the same tool closet where the plow was stored.  After he had the plow in place and had tested the mechanism to raise and lower it he put the wheel weights in place.  It was nearly ten when he finished and he was thoroughly chilled.
He went in the kitchen and poured a hot cup of coffee, unplugging the pot when he emptied it.  Tutu came in on her way upstairs.
Forgive me for pooping out on you, dad, but I dont think Ill be staying up for Leno tonight.  Got to get up for school in the morning, you know.
Lane planted a kiss on her forehead.  Thanks for dinner, squirt.  Sorry I didnt get to spend more time with you tonight.
Sall right, dad.  I know youve got things youd rather be doing too.  Gnight.  See you in the morning.
Sleep tight, punkin.  Lane watched her head down the hall and up the stairs.  He was mighty proud of what a fine young woman she was becoming.


Chapter 9

Just after eight the next morning, the government people knocked on his door.  Tutu had left for school after fixing her dad ham and eggs for breakfast.  What a pleasure!  Lane poured what was left of the coffee into a thermos he planned to take with him while he plowed the side roads and was just finishing the dishes.  He grabbed a towel to wipe his hands and carried it to the front door.
Deputy Lane Mauler? the thin man asked.  He was in his early or mid-forties.  He had shoulder length brown hair.  The woman with him was a real lightweight.  Short and thin, even when heavily wrapped in a long coat.
Yes? he said.
Im Dr. Wayne Fresno from US TECBAD.  Were located south of here a ways.
Ive heard of your agency, Lane said.
This is Dr. Enderman, Fresno continued.  She works with me.
Connie was right.  This Enderman woman was good looking, in spite of the heavy, black-framed glasses she wore.  Lane had never thought that glasses marred a womans appearance.  Hi, she said, holding out her gloved hand.
Pleased to meet you, Lane said.  Why dont you come on in out of the cold?  I was just about to head out and plow the side roads here in town.
We were pretty sure you would have other duties, Dr. Fresno said.  Thats why Dr. Enderman and I left Tonopah early this morning.
He led them into the front room and found chairs for them.  Can I get you some coffee?  Im sure you can use some on a morning like this.  Ive some fresh made in the kitchen, he lied.
That would be nice, Dr. Enderman said.  Black for me, please.
Same here, Fresno added.
Lane left the kitchen door open so they could talk while he found cups and poured the coffee from his thermos.  I talked with Dr. Conried last night, he called through the open door.  She said that I might be hearing from you.  What can I do to help you?  He placed their cups on saucers and stuck napkins under his left arm.  He served Dr. Enderman and handed her a napkin, then he served Dr. Fresno.
As he sat down Dr. Enderman opened the conversation.  Our principal duty at TECBAD is to find ways to protect this nation from a chemical or biological attack by a foreign power, or by terrorists for that matter.  Its unfortunate, but CB weapons are relatively simple to manufacture and transport.  Im sure youll recall the Serin agent released by terrorists in the Japanese subways?  We cant prevent such an attack; that is not within our mission.  Our task is to find ways of combating such an attack, if one has been delivered.
Yes, said Dr. Fresno.  Over the past few weeks youve had several unfortunate incidents here in Valley Forks.  Wed like to assist you in determining what may have happened.  Chiefly we want to find out if it could possibly be some kind of terrorist attack.
Wouldnt a terrorist attack be committed somewhere with a larger population density?  You mentioned Japan, why not Las Vegas, or better yet, Los Angeles?  Who would bother with a whistle stop like Valley Forks?
Exactly, Deputy Mauler.  Thats why Dr. Enderman and I have yet to be convinced that what you are experiencing is an attack of some sort.  In any event, our expertise may help you in arriving at a solution to this problem.
I would certainly glad to accept help on this.  Right now, we dont have much to go on.  I gather youve already seen the lab results Dr. Conried came up with.  She mentioned that you had relieved her of some samples.
Yes, Dr. Enderman said.  The equipment we have available to us is much more delicate and sensitive than the equipment available to her.  We also have the resources of large computer databases to assist in our search for answers.  You understand, we havent relieved her of any responsibility in her duties, we just want to give whatever help we can.
Lane tried to absorb what he had just heard.  Long ago he had heard a joke about the biggest lie told by the government:  A man comes up and shakes your hand and says, Hello, Im from the government.  Im here to help you.
Lane had an inborn suspicion of people who freely offered assistance.  They nearly always had an ulterior motive.  The problem was he had no way to refuse their offer.
Where would you like to start? he asked.
Dr. Fresno pulled a spiral notebook from inside his coat.  Lets see, youve had two other similar events, right?
Three, he corrected.  There was another yesterday afternoon.  The bodies should have reached the morgue by last night.
Three, Dr. Fresno commented and made a notation in his book.  We already have some background on a family named Espinoza and
Esposito, Lane corrected.
Hmm?  Oh, yes, Esposito.  And there was another event at the home of a Dana Wheaton?  I believe six people were involved there.
Thats correct.  Steve Dunlop survived that horror and was air lifted to the hospital in Ely.
Fresno made another note to follow up by questioning Dunlop at the hospital.  This could turn out to be a break in their research.  The only questioning they could do with rats was by way of an autopsy.  Okay, well speak to him, perhaps this afternoon.  Could we see where the third event took place?
I dont see why not, the initial investigation has been completed.  Do you want me to take you there or would you rather I draw you a map?
I think a map will do, Dr. Enderman said.  We wouldnt want to interfere with your other duties.
Fine, Lane said.  Let me get a paper and pencil from the office and Ill draw you a sketch so you can find the Yanceys.  The Esposito place is out that way also.  Ill mark it on the sketch; you may want to check it out too.
That would be a big help, deputy, Dr. Fresno said.  Lane suspected that they would be very happy to be able to look the two places over without him being along.  That suited him, he was pretty sure hed already learned as much as he could.
When you get back to town, Id be happy to take you over to the Wheaton place.
Thank you very much, deputy.  Well be sure and look you up when weve finished our inspections.  Lane held the sketch over Fresnos lap and explained the landmarks to look for.  When he finished, Fresno rose and Enderman followed suit.  Lane showed them to the front door and watched them drive away.  It struck him as strange that they hadnt asked for a report on what had happened at the Yanceys.  It was almost as if they already knew what had gone on there.  Lane wondered if they knew more than they were telling.  He thought of an answer to that one right away; of course they knew more than they were telling.  Hed never heard of a government employee yet who hadnt withheld information.  For that matter, most law enforcement personnel could be pretty close mouthed too.  It did not necessarily mean that they were guilty of anything.
*     *     *
When they reached the Yanceys farmhouse, Fresno and Enderman made a quick once over inside.  They found no obvious causes for the violence that had taken place here.  Enderman brought a sample kit from their car and now they went over the place a second time, paying particular attention to anything that might be considered out of the ordinary.
Both of the scientists were wearing sweaters and overcoats.  There had been no heat in the Yancey home since yesterday.  The place was thoroughly chilled and could easily have served as a meat locker, a place to hang beef for chilling.  Dr. Fresno went to the fireplace and used a poker to sift through the ashes.  He was considering lighting a fire to make their search more comfortable.  There was kindling, and firewood stacked in a box.  Why not?  At least they could be comfortable while they did their work.  
He began by laying two short logs lengthwise on the hearth.  Then he laid kindling across the gap between the logs, with more kindling atop that.  Slowly he built up a mixture of kindling and small chunks of firewood.  To the right of the fireplace was a magazine rack which held several old newspapers.  Dr. Fresno grabbed a few of those when something fell onto the hearth.  It was a small piece of thin cardboard or heavy paper.  He picked it up and looked at it closer.  He saw heavy red paper.  It had white printing on it.  A staple held it folded over and bits of cellophane clung to the staple.  Once it had been folded over a small cellophane envelope and stapled shut.  Where had he seen it before?  He new he had seen something like this, and very recently.  He pulled a small plastic sample envelope from his pocket and put the red and white paper inside.  On the outside he wrote the date, time, and location where he had found the specimen.  Unconsciously he shoved it into his pocket.  There were matches on the mantle above the fireplace.  Fresno selected one, struck it on a brick and touched it to the crumpled newspaper.  Shortly he had a fire blazing in the hearth.  He adjusted the damper and continued his search of the home.

Chapter 10

Late Friday afternoon, Lane Mauler was watching the TV news and drinking a tepid cup of coffee.  Wednesday and Thursday had been quiet.  No more violent murders; all hed done for the past few days was write an occasional speeding ticket, usually out of state drivers from California, in a hurry to get to their next accident.  There had been that silent alarm to respond to over at Martins Video last night, but it hadnt been anything serious.  Some kid had thrown a snowball that cracked a front window and triggered the alarm.  The kid had never been identified, probably having run straight home terrified the sheriff would catch him, using fingerprints or something, and lock him up.  Lane chuckled over that one.  Fingerprints, on a snowball?
Heavenly aromas were drifting from Tutus kitchen as she put together a killer dinner as she called it.  The living room table was set with their best dishes and silver and adorned with candles not yet lit.  Having no fresh flowers, Tutu had put together an attractive display of dried flowers.  The overall effect was one of warmth, charm, and a homey atmosphere.
Youve done an incredible job, Lane told her before he settled down to watch the news.  Im sure Connie will know shes welcome here and that youve fixed a special dinner for someone we consider a very special person.  Thanks, Hon.
Well, someone has to take the initiative, dad.  When I go off to college youll have to cook for yourself, you know.  Ill feel better if I can get you and Connie together before I go.
Youve got nearly two years to work on it, dear, so dont be in a rush.  Let me know if I can help with dinner.
Why dont you invite her to Mexico for a vacation?  That would be nice this time of year.  Say, Cabo or Mazatlan?
And leave you alone?  All by yourself?  In this big house?  With a nearly new car to boot?  I wasnt born yesterday, Tutu.
Neither was I, dad.  Besides, its really ridiculous to imagine me throwing a wild party in this town.  Who would I invite?
Well, okay.  So I dont have to worry about you.  Connie and I still have a lot of work to finish up concerning recent events.  We cant just up and go.  Besides, what makes you think shed want to?
Trust me, dad.  Connie has done nothing but work, work and work in the years she has been in Tonopah, and the years she spent in school before that.  Shed jump at the chance to spend a week in the sun with a good looking guy like you.
You make her sound like a frog.  I cant picture Connie jumping just because I asked her to hop.
Try it, dad.  You may be surprised.  With that remark Tutu buried herself in the kitchen once more leaving Lane to wonder where his relationship with Connie might be headed.  It was true, he found her immensely attractive and looked forward to the times they could spend together, but he wasnt sure if either of them felt like wanting to make their relationship more permanent.  There were still a few differences between them, possibly, irreconcilable differences.
Over the past few days the snow continued to fall intermittently.  It was now drifted to a depth of nearly two feet on the leeward side of trees and buildings.  Where he had cleared the few side roads with the attachment to his Blazer it was pushed up in heaps three feet deep.  It was nearly seven now, the sun had been down for more than an hour and Lane had a respectable bed of coals glowing in the airtight stove in the living room.  A cast iron teakettle bubbled on the back of the stove, adding humidity to the dry air in the house.
Lane began to wonder what Drs. Fresno and Enderman were studying at this time, and what they knew but werent telling him.  He decided to change the subject, to get his mind completely off the murders and relax and enjoy this evening with Connie.
Tutu?  You feel like some target practice tomorrow?
Sure, dad, her voice came drifting from the kitchen.  Its been several weeks.  Do you think Connie would like to go with us?
Thats kind of what I was thinking. Although she hasnt come right out and said anything, I think guns frighten her.  Perhaps if she saw how safe a weapon can be when handled by someone like you, maybe shed get over it.
Ill ask her after dinner.  When shes comfortably full and feeling satisfied, shell be in a pleasant mood.  I think.
Here she comes now, he said as Connies beige county car pulled up in front.  Connie shut off the engine and lights and got out, not forgetting to lock the car behind her.  She realized the odds of anyone attempting to steal the car in this small town, parked right in front of the local deputys home were slight, but good habits are hard to break.
Lane met her at the door and helped her off with her coat.  He put his arms around her and held her for a moment.  Its good to see you again, he said.
Getting to be a regular habit, isnt it?
I dont mind.
He showed her to the front room, deposited her on the couch and brought her a glass of white wine.  Tutu says shes almost done with the chicken.
Connie took a sip of her wine.  God, thats good!  My nerves are frazzled driving on that icy highway, plus Im suffering hunger pangs.  I had only coffee and a roll at the Palace this morning and worked straight through lunch.  Its a good thing you dont have a strong breeze in your living room.  I feel as though I might simply blow away.  She giggled and Lane felt a warm glow just hearing her and seeing her feel happy.  It was quite a change from the night he had held her close after they had cleaned up the mess at the Wheatons and patched up Steve Dunlop right here on the couch.
Say, Tutu and I thought we might drive out of town tomorrow morning and kill a few cans.  You feel like going with us?
Im not sure, Lane.  Ive never felt very comfortable around guns, not after seeing the awful damage they cause to some of my patients.  But I guess its something Ill just have to get used to if I plan on seeing very much of you.  Youll break me in gently wont you?  Shooting, I mean, she said with a wink.
Of course, I have a sweet little twenty-two automatic that I sometimes use just for target practice.  Almost no recoil and you can shoot all day for a dollar or two.  It promotes hand and eye coordination, an important part of marksmanship.
Okay, Ill give it a try, but no promises.  Understood?
Right.  He took a sip of his wine, feeling that hed won a minor victory at least.
Tutu came in from the kitchen with a casserole dish, which she set on a trivet in the center of the table.  Gather round, folks.  The salad will be right out.  She dashed back to the kitchen and returned with a large bowl of tossed salad.  A moment later she brought in side dishes of cauliflower and broccoli in cheese sauce, candied carrot slices, and finally a fresh pot of coffee.
Connie seated herself at the chair Lane had pulled out for her.  Tutu came in with a selection of salad dressings and he seated her also.  Go ahead and dig in, she said.  Ill confess to having nibbled a little while in the kitchen so I probably wont eat much.
All the more for us, Lane said with a huge smile.
It all looks wonderful, Tutu.  Youll make some fellow a wonderful wife some day, Connie said.  I dont take much pleasure in the kitchen.  Coffee and frozen dinners is about my speed.
Then Ill teach you, she smiled.  Theres no real secret to good cooking, anyone can follow a recipe, certainly someone who has finished college and medical school.  The real trick is to have everything ready at the same time.  With a little forethought, there really isnt much to it.
A regular cordon bleu, isnt she? Lane jibed.  The dinner was excellent, Connie had to admit. The creamy chicken casserole had just the right hint of rosemary and savory to give it body and aroma.  The vegetables were tender but not mushy.  For dessert, Tutu had made a chilled rice pudding with slices of fresh fruit and a touch of cinnamon and nutmeg.  Connie soon felt she would burst if she took another mouthful.
Afterwards they settled in front of the TV.  Tutu had gone to Martins Video in the afternoon and brought home Sigourney Weaver in Alien Resurrection and Cuba Gooding in A Murder of Crows.  Connie found that she could easily turn off the stress of her day and settle into this comfortable tableau as she sat next to Lane.  He had his arm around her and she stretched her legs out on the sofa.  Tutu settled herself on the floor near the airtight stove and sipped sparingly of the single glass of wine her father permitted her.  Connie began to marvel at how easily she fitted into this family and how much she enjoyed being a part of it.
Lane had similar feelings.  Although both movies had interesting plots and twists, particularly the Cuba Gooding one, hed seen them before and was able to let his thoughts fill with images of Connie and himself, much as his arms were filled with her warmth and his nostrils with her sweet scent.
He found himself wondering if it was too soon after Anns death to be harboring such feelings?
*     *     *
Sixty-five miles away, in a well equipped lab buried beneath the desert, Dr. Fawn Enderman snapped her three-ring binder closed and set it on the desk in front of her.  Across from her were Dr. Fresno and Dr. Pribotte.  
Id say our tests on the specimens brought from Tonopah prove conclusively that none of the agents, or combination of agents, were testing here at TECBAD are in any way involved with the unfortunate incidents over in Valley Forks.
I agree, Dr. Fresno said.  It appears as though the occurrences there are the result of some unusual mutation of a previously documented plant species, or combination of species.  We clearly are not at fault for anything which has happened and none of our ongoing work has been in anyway compromised.
I do feel, he continued, that we have a responsibility to assist these townspeople in finding a solution to their problems.  Actually, that is what we are here for, isnt it?  To find ways to defend the public from chemical or biological attack?  While we have no indication that these events have been brought about by any biological means, we do have indications of chemical agents.  So far, however, there is no data which indicates that any of these agents are the result of deliberate attempts to harm the population.
No evidence of deliberate attempts, Dr. Pribotte repeated.  However, if we wanted to test the results of a newly developed agent, and if we had passed the point where laboratory tests were satisfactory, wouldnt we be inclined to test the agent in a real-life, yet controlled, environment?  Could it be that someone is getting ready to release this agent in a major population area?
Anything is possible, the attractive researcher said in a sultry contralto.  I guess we should continue checking to determine that none of these events were anything other than a freak occurrence of nature.  But continuing is the important factor.  Youll note many of the symptoms and circumstances of the incidents in Valley Forks have been similar to what weve recorded in lab tests of II-PPE.  By investigating what happened in Valley Forks we may find a protocol for eliminating the undesirable effects of an agent we are presently testing.  II-PPE was one of Dr. Endermans personal projects.  It represented the second phase of their investigation to find a drug to enhance the physical and psychological abilities of a fighting soldier.  So far they had succeeded in making the soldier a smarter and stronger fighting man, the physical and psychological enhancements, but they hadnt been able to get him to focus his aggressions solely on the enemy.
Is that your recommendation, Dr. Enderman? Pribotte asked in an official voice.
I dont see how we can do anything else.  Yes, sir, that is my official recommendation, she said.
I agree, Dr. Fresno added.
Pribotte indicated that he had reached a decision by clearing his throat.  Very well, then.  Ill have personnel cut orders placing you two, plus Major Bricker and one or two enlisted men on TDY status.  I want you to drive down to Las Vegas and rent a couple automobiles.  Youll wear civilian clothes so there wont be anything tying this investigation to the military.  Use a couple of our blind credit cards for your needs.  Take a portable scrambler with you.  Begin tomorrow morning and submit status reports to me at least once every afternoon.  I want you to stay on this until you have isolated the probable source of contamination and neutralized it.  Do you have any questions?
Fresno shook his head.  Dr. Enderman said, No, sir.
Then, this meeting is adjourned, thank you both.  He rose to his feet and left the lab.
Looks like well be booking a motel in Tonopah, Fawn, Dr. Fresno said.  There isnt anyplace for us to stay in Valley Forks.
Tonopah isnt too bad.  At least well be able to get out and see a movie at night, or order a good dinner, maybe even take a shot at the blackjack tables.
Sure, loads of fun, searching for an unknown agent that drives people murderously off their rocker.  Sounds like a ball.
Youre an optimist, Dr. Fresno.  I dont feel this will in any way be a picnic.
That doesnt mean Im not right, he said.

Chapter 11

Connie was the first to awaken on Saturday morning.  She slipped from Lanes bed and put on a robe, then tiptoed downstairs where she stirred up the coals in the airtight stove and added a few good-sized chunks of coal.  She peered out the window and saw that a few more inches of snow had fallen during the night.  This year should prove to be close to a record amount for this part of Nevada.
In the kitchen she rummaged around until she was able to put together the ingredients for making French toast.  Tutu had maple syrup, honey, and molasses in her cupboard.  Connie put all three into the microwave and set it to gently warm them while she prepared a pot of coffee.  By the time it had finished brewing Tutu had come down stairs and headed straight for the coffee maker.
Morning, Connie.  Looks like youre finding your way around in the kitchen.  I thought you said you couldnt cook?
Well, I wouldnt call French toast cooking.  Not much, anyway.  But its one of the few things I can throw together.  Do you have a whisk for beating the eggs?
Left of the sink, second drawer down, she said after a sip of coffee.
Connie pulled out the drawer and quickly found the whisk.  Hanging from a hook to the right of the stove, she found an old-fashioned cast iron griddle and set it atop two burners to heat.  She smeared it with a dollop of butter and it soon began to sizzle.  By that time she was ready to toss on four pieces of soggy bread.  They hissed and sizzled and gave off a wonderful aroma.
How many for you? Connie asked.
Judging from that aroma, Id like six, but my waist line says three.  How about fixing me two and I can make another if Im still hungry?
Fine.  Two for you, two for me, and six for your dad, she said.
Six?
Hes still a growing boy, dear.  Besides, since French toast is one of my few accomplishments, maybe I can impress him.  She gave Tutu a wink.
Upstairs they heard Lane in the bathroom shaving.  Shortly he came down and poured himself a cup of coffee.  Connie and Tutu were half finished with their breakfast.  Lane saw the huge stack on his plate and said, Tutu, youve outdone yourself this time.  A tall stack with butter on top is just what I need this morning.  He added a pat of butter, smeared it around, and drowned the stack with dark, black molasses.
Thats what Connie said.  She fixed your breakfast, dad.
Lane sliced off a forkful and stuffed it in his mouth.  Umm, this is great, Connie.  Feel like replacing Tutu on a more permanent basis?
Only if you think youd be happy with French Toast three times a day, Lane.
We could give it a try.  Maybe in time youd learn to fix something good, like chili.
Tutu gave her dad a playful punch in the shoulder.  Dad, youre impossible!  But youre also a good cook, when you want to be, why dont you teach her.  What could be better than teaching a woman to fix your favorite dishes just the way you like them?
Probably take too long, he said around a mouthful of toast.  Look how long it has taken me to teach you.  But then, you always were a slow learner, he teased.
Dad! she said in exasperation as she punched him again.  Connie laughed so heard she nearly spilled the coffee she had been about to drink.
When breakfast was finished the girls stuck Lane with the dishes while Tutu got out the guns.
See, Connie, you always treat a gun as if its loaded until you have personally unloaded it and are certain there are no rounds left in it.  We never keep an unloaded gun around the house.  Dad says unloaded guns have a habit of unexpectedly going off.  Besides, what use is a gun thats empty?  She proceeded to open the cylinder of her thirty-eight and empty the shells into her hand.  Then she flipped the cylinder closed with a twist of her wrist and handed it to Connie.
In her nervousness, Connie nearly dropped it as she took hold.  I didnt know they were so heavy, she remarked.
Its no heavier than a hammer, Connie.  Thats exactly what a gun is when you think about it.  Its just like any other tool.  It has its uses, but it can hurt you too, just like a saw, a drill, or a chisel.  Dad says keep your tools clean and handle them with care and you wont have to worry.
I know its a tool in your dads job, but why should I need one?
Look, Connie.  Youre a doctor.  Suppose some dope-head breaks into your house thinking you have drugs, or can at least get them for him?  What do you do?  Call a cop?  You think the dope-head will give you that opportunity?"
Okay, it could happen, but I cant see myself shooting a person dead.
Who says you have to kill him?  Shoot him in the knees and hell go down.  If hes crawling, at least youll have a chance to get away.
That sounds more like it.  But the knees arent a very large target.
Tutu opened a box and handed Connie a bright silver cartridge with a blue plastic tip.  Then you use one of these.  Theyre only good for close range, ten or fifteen feet, but you can hardly miss.
What is it? Connie asked.
Snake shot, Tutu said.  Or some people call them bird shot.  Basically its like a miniature shotgun shell.  It has dozens of tiny little pellets inside.  When you pull the trigger they explode from the barrel with tremendous force, and they continue to spread out as they travel.  Like I said, you can hardly miss, its not very sporting.
Well, I dont care whether Im a good sport or not if someone breaks into my home, Connie said firmly.
Thats the spirit.  Shot shells are seldom fatal, unless fired at very close range, but they can do a lot of damage, and they have much less recoil than a conventional bullet.
You sound as though youve done a lot of shooting, Tutu.
Dad started to take me out when I was only four.
Four! Connie expostulated.  Isnt that a little young?
Youre never too young to learn safety with firearms.  Actually, he started me with a Red-Rider BB gun.  I didnt even have the strength to cock it at first, but it was useful in teaching me how to hold a good sight picture, and how to hold a rifle steady whether lying prone, kneeling, or standing.  I was eight before he took me to a range to shoot a real rifle or pistol.
Well I should think so, Connie said.
Lane came into his office and joined them.  Looks you two ladies have just about got things ready, he said.
Tutu is showing me how not to shoot my foot off, Connie said.
A good thing, Lane smiled.  Youd look silly walking lopsided.  He reached into the left-hand drawer of his desk and pulled out a flat box.  He opened it and removed a twenty-two automatic wrapped in rust-colored muslin.  Pushing a button on the side, the magazine was ejected into the palm of his hand.  He put the magazine on the desk and pulled back the slide of the automatic while glancing into the chamber to make sure it was empty.  When the slide went forward, slamming home, he handed it to Connie.  I think well start you out with this one.  How does it feel?  
Connie wrapped her hands around the pistol grip and tried to emulate the police-shooting stance shed seen in the movies.  Not too heavy.  I think I can handle this one.
Fine, he said as he took it back from her.  When we get to the range well see if you can hit anything with it.  He took his leather belt and holster from where it hung on the back of his chair and belted it on.  There was no need for him to check the pistol.   He knew it was loaded.  He opened another drawer in the desk and removed three boxes of different caliber ammunition.  Tutu, will you carry these for us? he said as he handed the shells to her.
He went back to the kitchen and returned seconds later with a plastic grocery bag containing empty aluminum cans.  We can recycle these just as easily with a few holes in them.  I prefer shooting at cans because theyre easier to pick up than broken bottles, would you mind carrying these, Connie?  Okay, coats everyone, lets get this show on the road.
They went out the front door and got into Tutus van.  Since the van was nearly as new as her drivers license, Lane let Tutu drive.  He put Connie in the passenger seat and then leaned into the van.  Be right back, he said.  I want to check in before we get the Snowman upset over nothing.  He went to his police cruiser and switched on the radio.  It took only a moment to raise Josiah Snow who was taking his turn on the weekend shift.  He told Snow they would be about a mile east of the town on Carbon Road shooting some cans.  Snow thanked Lane for the call.  Now he wouldnt have to chase down reports of shots being fired.
Lane went back to the mini-van, which Tutu had already started.  She was sitting behind the wheel and fiddling with the heater controls as if she could make the heater warm up faster.  He climbed into the back-seat behind Connie.  Okay, Tutu, I think you know where were headed.
Right, dad.  She backed out of the drive then put the car in drive and turned left.  They crossed the main highway through town and Tutu drove two blocks then made a right, driving two more blocks until she finally turned left on Carbon Road.
Lane had scraped the snow from this road yesterday, but a few more inches had fallen overnight.  The little van with front wheel drive handled the snow easily as it was still early in the morning and the mud beneath was frozen solid.  They continued along the road until Tutu pulled off to the right where Lane had quit plowing and turned his cruiser around.
There is nothing beyond this point, Connie, except some trees, rocks, and maybe a jack rabbit or two.  We can get out now.  Tutu, go set up some targets for us.
The girl grabbed the grocery bag and walked thirty feet away in the light snow.  On the other side of the clearing someone had dug two short lengths of telephone pole into the ground so they were two and a half feet tall and set about twelve feet apart.  Another pole had been pinned atop them with large spikes.  The crosspiece provided a place to set up targets.  Evidently quite a few people used this place on the edge of town for target practice.  Broken glass and empty cartridge casings were plentiful where the snow had been cleared off.  Tutu set up five empty soft drink cans and returned to where her dad and Connie were standing.
That enough, dad?
Looks fine to me.  Show Connie what you can do.
Tutu opened the glove compartment and passed out yellow foam earplugs for shooting.  She found a pair of safety goggles and put them on.  Lane handed her the box of thirty-eight-caliber ammunition, which she placed on top of the mini-van where it was slightly more than shoulder height.  Flipping open the cylinder of her pistol she loaded the chambers.  Then she stepped two paces out in front of the van and took up her shooters stance.  Blam!  Blam!  Blam!  She fired six evenly spaced shots missing only once, and then she opened the cylinder and ejected the empty cartridges.  She set the weapon on the car seat and went forward to set up more targets.
Four out of five isnt bad, she said when she returned.  You have to keep in mind that a soft drink can at ten yards is a lot smaller than a mans torso at the same distance, and thirty-feet is a lot further away than the target would be if we were indoors.
Right, Connie agreed.  I had no idea they were so noisy.
Tutus pistol is quite loud because it has only a two inch barrel.  For that reason its also a lot less accurate than a similar pistol with a four or six inch barrel.  She shot very well.
And how well do you shoot, Lane?
Watch, he said.

Chapter 12

Dr. Fresno pulled off Highway 95 and stopped under the portico of The Lariat, a two-story motel with fifty-six rooms and a restaurant.  Unlike most motels in Nevada, The Lariat had no swimming pool.  At an elevation of 6,030 feet, the weather in Tonopah was usually too cool for swimming even in mid-summer.  Fresno and Enderman had ridden in the same car from Las Vegas but he rented separate rooms using one of the Armys credit cards registered to a dummy real estate corporation.  Fawn Enderman had experienced a few unpleasant relationships while in high school and in college, and would have little or nothing to do with members of the opposite sex, outside of what was required during the normal course of her job.
A husky bull, however, with pubic hair under her arms and whiskey on her breath could make Fawn weak in the knees and wet between the thighs.  The restrictions of life at TECBAD precluded the young scientist from enjoying her preferred sexual relationship, which took the form of Norma Ciznowski, a thirty-two year old loan officer at a major bank in Las Vegas.  Twice each month, Fawn would sign out for a weekend in Las Vegas where she would stay at Normas apartment.  To avoid exposing her friend Norma to the scrutiny of the Army, Fawn always gave her own cell-phone number when she filled in the sign-out sheet with the number where she could be reached.
After arriving in Vegas she would park her car in the multi-story parking lot at the Union Plaza Hotel, then take a local bus until she reached Normas apartment out past the intersection of Fremont and Charleston.  For the remainder of the weekend she would experience sexual bliss as Norma tied her up, spanked her, urinated on her, and degraded her in the most beautiful and erotic manner Fawn could ask for.  When her weekend was over, Fawn would take another bus back to her car and return to TECBAD, her batteries recharged, so to speak, and ready to put in another two weeks working for the Army until she could sign out for another weekend with Norma.
Dr. Fresno came out of the motel office and walked around the dark blue Ford sedan to slide in behind the wheel and next to Fawn.  Two rooms, he said, second floor, Building C.  I think we drive down this aisle and make a left.  Our rooms should be toward the rear of the next building.  He cranked the engine and put the car in gear.  When they had pulled next to the stairs leading to their rooms he got out and opened the trunk.  He removed the two bags belonging to Dr. Enderman and set them on the ground while he removed the single bag he had packed for himself.  He handed her the key to her room along with the smaller of her two bags.
Ill carry this one upstairs for you.  He glanced at his watch.  Weve killed most of the day just getting here, and Im a little bushed from all that driving.  I think Ill take a nap and have a shower after I get up.  Want to meet in the restaurant about six-thirty for dinner?
Sure, Wayne, she said as she preceded him up the steps.  If you like, I can share the driving when we go to Valley Forks tomorrow, she offered.
Id like that, Fawn, but I dont think the rental agency put any pillows in the car.  Im not quite sure you could reach the pedals and see over the wheel at the same time, he joked.
Fawn was used to being teased about her diminutive size.  In college one instructor, noticing her pierced ears, had mentioned putting her on his key chain so he could take her home.  She hadnt found it funny.
She forced a smile, Well, at least I offered.  Sticking the key in the lock and opening the door to her room she said, I think Ill have a nap too.  See you at six-thirty.
Her room was decorated with Navajo prints on the walls and matching southwestern style furniture coverings.  There were two Queen-size beds on one wall while a wide dressing table and drawers took up most of the wall opposite the beds, leaving room only for a circular coffee table with reading lamp and a pair of comfortably stuffed chairs pushed under the table.  A twenty-five inch color TV was fastened to one side of the dressing table.  Beside the TV was a brochure advertising various porno movies available in addition to the regular cable channels.  All you had to do was call the desk and give your credit card number.  She briefly glanced at some of the titles and found two with lesbian themes.  Fawn wondered how the Army would feel if they received a bill for several hours worth of triple-X-rated videos?
Choosing to sleep in the bed nearest the windows she tossed her bags on the other bed and opened the smaller of her two traveling cases and dug through it until she found her travel alarm clock.  She set clock to wake her at six in the afternoon and went into the bathroom to run a tub.  When the taps were flowing she hung the blouse and slacks she had worn for traveling on hangars in the alcove which served as a closet for this room, and hung up her remaining clothes.  She stripped off her bra and panties and tossed them into a mesh laundry bag.  
After testing the water with her hand she added a capful of bath oil and swished it around, then climbed in, shut off the taps, and settled back for a luxurious soak.  She let her thoughts wander to subjects more pleasant than Valley Forks and a mysterious gas, microbe, or narcotic, or whatever the hell it might be.  Her mind was hundreds of miles away, thinking of Normas very masculine apartment.  Thinking of Normas strong hands and sensuous fingers roaming the soft curves of her naked body infected Fawn with desires of lust and passion.  Unconsciously her fingers strayed to the downy soft hair between her thighs.  She should have been in Vegas this weekend, not in this nowhere town.  She should have been caring for her lover, striving to please Norma while she did the same for her.  Fawn was oblivious to her surroundings as her passion grew to a small but satisfactory climax which flowed through her body like storm swept breakers crashing on a rocky shore.  Spent, she let the water drain from the tub, toweled off and dropped nude into bed.  It was dark when her alarm roused her.
Tonopah isnt a large town, even though it is the county seat.  The population had been a little over ten thousand a few years back when production at the mine was in full swing and before the Air Force had closed the nearby training base.  Now it supported a reduced force of miners, some county government workers, real estate entrepreneurs and developers, and a few small casinos catering to the tourists coming and going along Highway 95.  The town was large enough that Major Bricker and the two enlisted men with him were able to find rooms at another hotel not too far away.  Brick and his security men went to the Palace Station to eat.  After dinner he found a phone and called Dr. Fresno.  They agreed to meet at the Palace at six-thirty in the morning for breakfast and then make the drive to Valley Forks, one car leading the other.  Brick glanced at his watch and found that it was a few minutes before six in the evening.  He asked Sergeant Evans and Specialist Thomas if they wanted to play a little twenty-one to kill time.  They decided to join him and the three of them settled on a table just being opened by a pretty young dealer.  The three players pretty much kept to the two-dollar minimum bet for most of the evening.
Bricks luck was consistent, neither good nor bad.  After three hours he was probably five dollars ahead of the game.  It could have been more except that he and the two enlisted men each tipped the dealer a dollar every forty minutes as they took their breaks and rotated through the pit.  If the game was monotonous for the three players, he could imagine how much more boring it must be for the dealers.  How could anyone work in this kind of job day in and day out, week after week?  He knew it would drive him bananas in only a short while.
At nine oclock they decided to call it a night and turn in so as to get an early start in the morning.  They walked across the street and down the block to their hotel.  The night was bitter cold and a stiff breeze was blowing across the mountain peaks.  Fortunately for them, the snow had been plowed from the road and swept from the walks.  It lay in drifts three and four feet deep along both sides of the road.  Brick stopped at a convenience store along the route and bought a pint of rum.  It was the one beverage he knew he wouldnt have trouble finding a mixer for in the soda machine at the motel.  After a couple stiff belts he settled down to a comfortable nights sleep.



Chapter 13

Lane stepped away from the girls and pulled his Browning from his holster.  He worked the slide, feeding a shiny brass cartridge into the chamber of the pistol.  He pulled the trigger while he eased the hammer down with his thumb then holstered the weapon.  Standing with his feet slightly apart and his knees slightly bent he pulled the pistol and extended it in front of him while he brought his left palm up to support the weapon.  As he pushed the pistol straight out in front of him his thumb pulled the hammer back.  When both arms were straight, but without locking his elbows, he fired off six shots in rapid succession.  He fired so fast all six shell-casings were hanging in the air before the first one landed in the snow.
One by one, each can flew from the log as he swept the targets from left to right.  When they all lay in the snow, Lane eased the hammer forward slowly and ejected the magazine from the pistol.  He turned back to the girls and walked to the van to replace the expended shells.
Show off, Tutu said.  I could do that good if my arms were stronger so that I could keep the gun from jumping so far off target between shots.
Very impressive, Connie said.  The other night I thought you had hit Dunlop in the shoulder and legs while aiming for the center of the body.  I see now that you put every shot exactly where you wanted it to go.
Well, between the Army and my years on the force, Ive had quite a bit of practice. Ill be the first to admit that this Browning is a lot more accurate than a regulation Army forty-five.  I didnt want to kill him, Connie.  Only to disable him and prevent injury to anyone else.
Okay, okay, lets not get into that again.  Show me what Im supposed to do.  While Tutu set up more cans Lane took the twenty-two automatic Connie would use from the console of the van.
He held the pistol up so Connie could see it.  This is a semi-automatic pistol, Connie.  The magazine holds thirteen rounds and will fire one every time you pull the trigger until you either stop shooting or the magazine runs empty.  To fire the first shot, you pull back the slide, he demonstrated, and youll see a cartridge pushed up by the magazine follower.  When you let the slide go forward, the round is fed into the chamber and the pistol will fire as soon as you pull the trigger.
He eased the hammer forward and waited for Tutu to return from down range.  When she was standing behind them he put the pistol into Connies right hand and showed her how to stand and point the weapon.
The weapon wont fire just now, because the hammer is forward.  Go ahead, pull the trigger.  Connie did so.  He could see the muscles in her hand tighten and watched as she characteristically let the sights move to the left and off the target.  He pointed out her mistake.
Now, try again.  This time squeeze your trigger finger slowly, very slowly, to the rear.  While you do that, keep the front sight centered over your target and centered in the notch of the rear sight.  She pulled again.  This time the pistol stayed on target, almost.
Okay, I guess were ready to try it for real.  Now, a twenty-two isnt especially loud, and it wont kick much.  Dont jerk the trigger; just squeeze it slowly.  Dont try and guess when the hammer will fall or youll unconsciously flinch or close your eyes.  Let it come as a surprise.  Ready?
She nodded.
Okay, pull the hammer back with your thumb.  Her movements were awkward the first time she tried this, but he knew she would improve with practice.  Right now she was still afraid of the little popgun.  It was good that she was afraid; guns are not toys.  Now take a breath, let part of it out, hold and squeeze.
Standing behind her he saw her shoulders come up as she inhaled.  He heard the whoosh as she exhaled.  Suddenly there was a loud pop!  A can jumped off the log and landed in the snow.
Connie practically jumped for joy!  I hit it!  I hit it!  Did you see?  She turned and suddenly the pistol was pointed at Lanes stomach.  He quickly brushed it aside, spinning her around until she had the weapon pointed down range while he held her arm keeping the gun pointed in a safe direction, even if it drooped slightly toward the ground.
You did good, Connie.  But you forgot you were holding a gun in your hands when you turned around.  Never, repeat, never forget what youre doing when you have a loaded weapon in your hands.  We know you dont intend to shoot anyone, but thats how accidents happen.  Always think about what you are going to do before you do it.  Now, try it again.
No, I dont want to.  Take the gun, Ive had enough.
Dont let your feelings get hurt, Connie.  You did well and I want you to shoot again.  There are five more targets down range and you have twelve more shots.  I want you to keep shooting until either the targets go down or the magazine is empty.  Dont be afraid, use what youve learned and try again.
To her credit, Connie kept shooting.  She fired all twelve shots but left one can standing.  Not bad for a beginner, he said.  When the slide locked itself back after ejecting the last shell he took the gun from her.  He pointed out the magazine release and she watched as the magazine popped from the grip of the pistol.  Now, reload.  Count out thirteen shells and put each one into the magazine.  Dont put the magazine back in the pistol until Tutu comes back from down range.  Always think safety first.  Okay?
Yes, Lane, a gun is just a tool, she repeated.  It cant shoot anyone by itself, but I can if Im careless.  I understand.  While Tutu set up another six cans, Connie fed shells into the pistols magazine.  When Tutu had set up the cans and returned to the firing line, Lane had Connie shoot again.  This time she knocked all six down with just eight shots.
Im getting better, she said, proudly.
You certainly are.  Okay, Tutu, its your turn.
The three of them killed the rest of the morning taking turns, reloading, and setting up targets.  By noon they were thoroughly chilled but Lane was pleased with the progress Connie had made.  He locked the pistols in the console, except for his own, which he wore, and drove them to Arts for lunch.
You all did so well, I thought we would have a treat and eat out so you wont have dishes to wash.  Dinners on me, order whatever pleases you!
Big spender, Tutu said to Connie in a stage whisper.  She added a wink.  You sure we can fit that into the budget, dad?
Pooh on the budget!  This is a celebration.  Well have wine and dancing girls.  Well eat, drink, and make merry.
You pretend you have dancing girls, dad, and Ill pretend to drink wine.  We dont want to get Art in trouble with the law, do we?
Well, I could use my influence, if I have any.  But, I guess we better not.  Wouldnt want to set a bad example for the rest of the town.  He pulled the van into a space in front of Arts and killed the engine.  The three went inside where the air felt like a hot wind off the desert after they had spent the morning in the chill air.  Lane helped them each with their coats and hung them on the row of hooks Art provided just inside the door.  Without the insulation of their heavy coats the warmth of the restaurant soon penetrated their bodies and warmed them thoroughly.
They took a booth and Ruth quickly appeared to take their orders.  Connie settled for a grilled cheese sandwich and hot coffee.  Tutu decided that she needed something to warm her inside and ordered hot pastrami.  Lane chose his usual order of chili in a sourdough bowl.  Ruthie knew his likes by now and brought a bottle of Tabasco sauce without waiting to be asked.  When they had finished eating, the three of them again donned their coats for the short trip home.  Outside, a chill wind was whipping through the trees and it wouldnt take much to chill them again.
As Lane slid the check onto the counter Tutu selected one of the cellophane packages of Granny Tituss Herbal Potpourri.  In this cold weather, the house is closed up so much of the time, I thought we could use a little something to freshen the air.  Okay, dad?  Lane agreed while noticing that the pasteboard card was nearly empty.  When he and Tutu had first seen it several weeks ago, there had been two-dozen or more packets attached to it.  Evidently Tutu wasnt the only resident of Valley Forks who found that being indoors could get a little stuffy during the cold winter months.  Ruthie added a dollar to their bill and Tutu slid the packet into her coat pocket as they ventured out into the chill wind.
When they arrived home Tutu filled the coffee maker and switched it on.  Lane went upstairs for a moment and returned with a plastic toolbox.  He set the red box on the kitchen table.  This is one of the more interesting lessons, he told Connie.  Now we get to clean our weapons.
He put all three pistols on the table and showed Connie how to disassemble the twenty-two for cleaning.  The first thing we always do is eject the magazine and pull the slide to the rear to make sure the pistol is empty.  He demonstrated for her while Tutu took her thirty-eight and opened the cylinder.  All the empty cartridges had been removed before they left the practice range so she was merely following her dads advice.  She removed the cylinder and set it aside then she went out onto the back porch and returned with a one-gallon fuel can and an oil changing pan made of black plastic.
It wont take but a minute, Connie.  A little trick dad brought home from the Army is to pour diesel fuel into this pan, then put all the parts in.  We use a wire brush on all the metal parts and a plastic brush on the wood or plastic parts.  Run a bore brush down the barrel a couple of times; then wipe everything with an old T-shirt.  The diesel fuel leaves a light coating of oil on all the metal parts, especially the itty-bitty ones in places we dont disassemble.  She demonstrated each step while talking.
Of course, there are more parts with your automatic, but the procedure is the same.
When Lane had put all the parts of Connies twenty-two into the pan, Connie took the cleaning rod from Tutu and attached the bore brush for her smaller twenty-two.  After cleaning the bore she wiped down the barrel and set it aside then took a soft brass brush and cleaned the slide and receiver group.  In just a few moments she was done and was waiting for Lane to finish doing the same to his nine-millimeter, then show her how to reassemble the little pistol.
When you see it in pieces like this, it certainly doesnt look very dangerous, she commented.
Thats because a gun is just a collection of metal parts.  Even when you put it back together and load it, its still harmless.  It takes a person behind the gun to use it for good or evil, Lane told her.
Im going to take mine back upstairs, dad, then see what I can find on the boob tube.
On a Saturday afternoon? he asked.  Good luck.
When she had left, Connie said to Lane, I want to thank you for this morning.  That is the first time in my life Ive ever held a real gun, let alone shoot one.  It didnt make me feel like Bonnie and Clyde just to be knocking down empty soda cans.  Ive really been afraid it would bring out the beast in me, so to speak.
Well do it again soon, Lane said.  I want to show you rifle and shotgun also.
Whats the difference? Connie asked.
A rifle fires a bullet at high velocity and with tremendous force.  It has grooves in the barrel to make the bullet spin and gives it greater accuracy.  A shotgun, on the other hand, has a smooth bore with no rifling.  It fires a charge of pellets.  Because the pattern of the pellets gets wider as the charge leaves the barrel, its especially good for shooting birds on the wing, although its also very effective against targets on the ground.  Shotgun shells are available with a wide variety in the types of shot they carry.  The largest is triple-ought.  Usually there are no more than six to nine pellets in a load of that size.  At the other end of the scale is number six, seven, or eight shot.  A shell like that may have two or three hundred tiny pellets.
Why so many? Connie wanted to know.
Well, the bullet from a rifle inflicts damage through trauma and shattering of bones and organs.  Often a pistol or rifle bullet will go completely through a target.  A shotgun kills by causing a large number of small wounds, without tearing up the target.  Usually the bird dies from the shock of a number of wounds, so the meat is still usable for dinner.  Some game birds tend to be quite small, and it would take a really good shot to hit one with a rifle.
Shot-gunning originated centuries ago in Europe.  Whether hunting for rabbits or fowl, there was always the danger that a rifle bullet would carry far beyond the target if the hunter missed, perhaps a mile or more, and injure someone else.  Hunting areas in Europe tend to be small and privately owned while the population density is quite high.  The shot charge from a shotgun tends to lose velocity fairly quickly and it can be relatively harmless at ranges over fifty or sixty yards.  For close range, though, its difficult to miss with a shotgun and a one-ounce charge can stop a predator with a devastating impact.
I know quite a bit about rifle and pistol wounds from time spent in the ER.  But Ive never seen a shotgun wound.
Thats because few people use one out here in the desert.  In terrain like this, most shooting is done at ranges over a hundred yards, maybe as much as four or five hundred yards.  A shotgun would be useless.  In this part of the country, about the only people using shotguns are security guards and law enforcement personnel protecting private property.  They dont want to hurt somebody a block down the street if they miss the target.
Right, I can see the logic behind that, she said.
When Lane finished assembling the weapons and answering Connies questions he took them into his office where he hung his Browning and leather over the chair and put the twenty-two back in its case in the desk.  He was surprised when the phone rang.
Deputy Mauler?  This is Major Bricker from the TECBAD test site.  Im here in town with some of our scientists and a couple of my own security people.  We came to let you know that our tests have shown there is no relationship between any of the chemicals and agents we are working with and the incidents youve reported here, but, weve turned up a couple more bodies for you.
What?  Where?  Have you informed anyone else?
Not yet, I called you first.  Were out here north of town, checking out the Yancey and Esposito sites for any other leads.  There was a Mr. Kingman across the road from the Yanceys.  He was going to take us over to another neighbor who might be able to give us more information.  Thats when we found the bodies.  The Talbot place Mr. Kingman says.  Theres a man and a woman, and two teen-age boys.
I know where it is.  Ill be there in fifteen minutes.  Lane tossed the phone down and asked Connie if she felt up to visiting another crime scene.  Its the Talbot place.  We can be there in just a few minutes.
Okay.  Let me get my coat, and my bag is out in the car.  Damn, Lane!  What the hell is going on in this town?
I dont know, Connie, but if we dont put a stop to whatever is responsible for this outbreak, Im afraid Valley Forks will soon be as deserted as Arturos Anasazi cliff dwellings.
*     *     *
Major Bricker was waiting out in front when Lane and Connie arrived in his blue and white Blazer.  There were two other men in Army green uniforms standing near the front door of the doublewide mobile home.  Lane and the Major exchanged greetings and a handshake.  Lane introduced Connie as our Rural Medical Health Service doctor, and an assistant to the coroner.  Major Bricker touched two fingers to the brim of his hat.
Very glad to meet you, maam.  Sorry to have pulled you away from home on a day like this.
No inconvenience, Major, Ive been doing this sort of thing for several years and Im quite adjusted to it, but thanks just the same.
Deputy, Im here in town with Dr. Enderman and Dr. Fresno.  I believe you met them a few days ago.  We began this morning at the Esposito place.  Then we went on to the Yancey place.  While we were there, your Mr. Kingman came over and introduced himself.  I gather he pulls some political weight in this town.
Hes chairman of the town advisory council, such as it is.  Valley Forks doesnt have the budget of a larger town and the council only acts a liason to the County Commissioners who actually administer the town, but Russ likes to think he has the same clout as the Mayor of Las Vegas or Los Angeles.
Nice enough fellow though.  He saw us poking around the Yanceys and I guess he came over to check us out.  When he saw that we were continuing the investigation into the cause of this trouble, he mentioned perhaps the Talbots might have some information since they lived right next door, much closer than he does.
He accompanied us over here but left as soon as he saw the trouble.  I went inside to use the phone, but took special care to make sure I didnt contaminate your crime scene.
I appreciate your caution, Major.  We still dont have much to go on in these cases.  We have to be very careful not to overlook any clue, no matter how small or inconsequential.  Lane was still speaking when Josiah Snow pulled in behind them in a cruiser of his own.
This is my weekend relief, Deputy Josiah Snow, Lane told the major.  Im supposed to be off on weekends, but you know how it is when you are the only law enforcement in town.  I called the Snowman on the radio while Dr. Conried and I were on the way over here.
Nice to meet you, Deputy Snow, the Major said extending his hand.
Same here, Josiah said.  What do we have, Lane?
Havent a clue, Snowman, I just got here myself.  The Major says he only went inside to use the phone and call us.  Shall we go in and have a look?
Sure enough.  Ive got a photo kit in the trunk of my cruiser.  Give me a second to get hold of it, will you?
When Deputy Snow returned with the photo kit, Lane led off, followed by Major Bricker, Connie, and with the deputy bringing up the rear.  They mounted the steps of Talbots homebuilt but spacious front porch and pushed their way inside the screen door.  The two soldiers saluted the Major and Lane almost returned their salute before he reminded himself that he had been out of the Army for many years.  He went inside where the nauseating smell of death assaulted his nose as it had so many times in the past few weeks.
The first body Lane saw was Bruce Talbot.  His throat was sliced from one ear to the other.  Someone had used a sharp knife to eviscerate him and dried blood was pooled on the carpet where he lay.  Connie knelt and touched a finger to the bloodstain.  Her finger came away dry.
At least eighteen hours, Lane, maybe longer.  The carpet and the underpad are pretty thick and would have retarded drying, but the surface is congealed and dry to the touch.
Lane nodded.  Could it have happened at the same time as the Yancey killings? he asked.
Its possible, she acknowledged, but Id put the time of this event at least a day later.  This body still shows signs of rigor mortis, which probably means hes been dead less than forty-eight hours.  When I get these bodies to the morgue, I may be able to give you a better estimate.  This one is obviously too old to get an estimate from the body temperature, but I may get something from the stomach contents.
With a feeling of disgust Lane observed that a large portion of Bruces left shoulder had been cut away.  It lay skewered with a wrought iron poker on the fireplace hearth.  Lane stepped over to the fireplace and brushed a space clear with a piece of wood and laid his palm on the bricks in the hearth.  They were stone cold.  He stood, brushing ashes and dust from his hands.
Out here, Lane, Josiah called from the kitchen.
Lane found another mess in the kitchen.  Carol Talbot must have been murdered in the kitchen.  There was a huge quantity of blood on the floor and spattered on the walls.  She had also been gutted, as if someone were cleaning a fish or small game.  The door to the oven was open and her body lay on the sagging door with her head jammed in as far as possible.  Even though the oven was cold now it had once been very hot.  The smell of burnt hair and charred flesh was over powering.  The Snowman snapped half a dozen pictures from various angles then went outside and tossed his cookies.  When he had finished vomiting into the snow he turned on a freeze proof faucet used to water the back yard and let the cold water flow for a moment.  He cupped his hand under it and rinsed the taste of bile from his mouth before he went back in to the kitchen.
Gawd, Lane, Ive helped carry burnt bodies from homes before, but theres something about cooking her in the oven that just sickens me.
I know, Snowman.  It sure dont set easy with me, either.  But, think how much worse it must have been when the body was still fresh and the oven was lit and singeing the hair off her head.  That must have been terrible.
You think about it, Josiah said.  Id rather not.
Connie came in from the front room and looked at this body too.  They just seem to get worse and worse, Lane.  The evisceration of both bodies tends to indicate the killers began butchering them like they would wild game.  That shoulder haunch of Bruces near the fireplace has teeth marks on it.  Where are Frank and Bruce Jr.?
Out back, maam, Josiah said.  Looks like they may have gone at one another.  Bruce Jr. is the oldest and largest.  He most likely killed Frank, striking him with an ax.  The head and one leg are both severed from the body.  Frank must have gotten in a mortal wound with the knife before Bruce finished him; I guess the one used to cut up his dad in the living room.
Must have been a helluva fight, Lane said.  There are defensive wounds on the hands and arms of Bruce and Carol both.  The whole family must have gone off their collective rockers.  Id guess it started with the boys.  I wonder who turned off the gas to the stove?
I wondered the same thing, Major Bricker said.  I sent Sergeant Evans out to check the propane tank.  The indicator reads zero.  Evidently the tank must have been low, and after the oven was turned on it just burned until the tank went dry.
Lane pulled a spiral notebook from his shirt pocket and made a note to check with the propane supplier and find out when the tank had last been filled and what the average consumption of the Talbot household had been for the past few months.  Maybe that would give him an idea of how much propane had been in the tank, and when the oven had been left on while this scene was being played out.
Lets go outside and check on the boys, Lane said.  Connie, you want to call your office and get Aldritch to drive down with the van?  Come to think of it, are you going to have any space left in your cold room?  Were getting a shit load of bodies lately.
If I have to, she said, Ill beg some room in Ely or Fallon.  The bodies from Wheatons place should be ready to release to the various mortuaries by now.  Ill check on that too, unless you think we should hold them longer for your investigation?
I dont see why.  Youve already taken your lab samples, and TECBAD has got theirs too.  If you cant tell me what were looking for between the two of you, then Im sure Ill never find out anything.  He turned to Major Bricker.
Speaking of TECBAD, didnt you say Dr. Fresno and Dr. Enderman were here also?  Id like to ask them what theyve learned
Okay.  When youre done here, lets go back to Yanceys.  They were still there when I came over here with Kingman.
Lane took his party into the back yard where they examined the bodies of Frank Talbot and Bruce junior.  From appearances, Lane judged that the Snowman had been right in his initial estimate.  It looked like Bruce Jr. had gone after Frank with an ax.  Hed managed to decapitate the smaller boy as well as hack off the right leg below the knee, but not before Frank got in a killing blow.  The body of Bruce Jr. lay in the snow, his back against a plum tree.  The ax lay nearby where he had dropped it.  Both hands were in his lap trying to keep his intestines from falling out the wide slash in his abdomen.  His face looked surprisingly serene but with all the blood he had lost, it was nearly as white as the new fallen snow.
Josiah, I guess you draw the duty tonight.  Youll have to stay here at the scene until Aldritch comes to pick up the bodies.  Its still fairly early, Im sure hell be here before dark.  Be sure you get more pictures of the outside here.
Major, you and your boys were here first.  Were there any tracks in that new snow out front?
Come to think of it, no, none at all.
Lane swept his arm around them.  The only tracks I see here in the back yard were made by us.  These bodies have been here at least overnight.  I guess were lucky the scavengers didnt get to them before we did.  So that would tend to rule out an assault by someone other than members of the family.  I guess this is going to get listed as another murder/homicide by a person or persons under the influence of drugs.  Ill have to wait until I get the final word from Dr. Conried, but thats my first guess.
Well see if the rest of my crew has found anything over at the Yanceys, Major Bricker said.  Look, Id like to leave my sergeant and his man with Deputy Snow.  They can finish taking notes for their report, and working together the three of them may find something new.  If its all right with you, Ill leave them my rental car and ride with you and the doctor.  Okay?
Fine by me, Lane said.  You done here, Doctor? he asked Connie.
These bodies are frozen solid, she said.  I cant do anything more until we get them to the morgue.  Ill have to thaw them out before I can run any tests.  I guess Im done.
Okay, lets drive over to the Yanceys and you can compare notes with the two doctors from TECBAD.
The three of them got into Lanes cruiser and he drove them to the Yanceys farm.  Lane stopped his car beside the rental car the two scientists from TECBAD had arrived in.  He could see smoke above the roof of the place.  It looked like something at the rear of the house was on fire.  He quickly jumped from the car and yelled to Major Bricker, Check inside.  If anyone is in there, get them out quickly.  Without waiting for a reply he ran around the side of the house and out to the back.  Smoke and flame were billowing from one of the smashed windows to the kitchen.
Lane grabbed a garden hose and twisted the faucet handle to turn it on.  Fortunately, there was still power to the house, the well still provided pressure.  Lane used his thumb over the end of the hose and sprayed it in front of him as he kicked in the back door.  The kitchen was in flames but the solid timbers of the home hadnt caught yet.  Lane kept the spray from the hose in front of him as he hosed down the walls around the sink and quickly doused them.  He turned the hose to the pantry, which was barely alight, and soon had it out.  There was still smoke coming from beneath the sink.  He used the toe of his shoe to open a partially closed cupboard door and found a smoldering wastebasket.  He soaked it thoroughly and sprayed the walls above the sink again to be sure they were out.
When it appeared the fire was out he tossed the hose out the back door and hurried to the living room where he saw the major struggling with the tiny form of Dr. Enderman.  She was screaming and kicking but her struggles couldnt win out over the more powerful male.  He stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her, gripping her wrists tightly to keep her from clawing at him.
Get her outside, Lane yelled.  Drag her if you have to!
Lying on the living room floor was Dr. Fresno.  Lane bent over him and found a strong pulse.  He was only dazed.  Lane rolled him over and saw the bleeding wound on the mans forehead.  He stooped to his knees and pulled Dr. Fresnos arm over his shoulder then hoisted him into a firemans carry.  Fresno wasnt a lightweight but Lane staggered to his feet and carried the man out the front door and deposited him on a picnic table in the front yard.
Got a patient for you, Connie.  Head wound.  Doesnt look too serious but Im no doctor.  Connie grabbed her bag and moved to the picnic table while Lane went to assist the major.  Dr. Enderman was still struggling and ranting, but the major held her tightly.
I think shell be all right in a few minutes, he said to the major.  She just needs some fresh air.  I hope.  Meanwhile, let me put the cuffs on her and well put her in the back of the Blazer.  He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt and grabbed the girls left arm snapping the bracelet around the wrist.  He bent the arm behind her while the major did the same with her right arm and they swiftly had the doctor subdued.  She still kicked and shouted but there wasnt much else she could do.  They eased her into the back of the police cruiser and shut the door.
What happened? Connie asked as she swabbed Dr. Fresnos forehead with hydrogen peroxide.
Who can tell? Lane answered.  Maybe when Enderman settles down, we can ask her.  Id say she hit Fresno with something, and then started the fire in the kitchen.  Or maybe she started the fire first; then hit Fresno when he tried to stop her.  Maybe he can tell us when he comes around.  How is he?
His breathing is okay and his pupils are responsive, Connie said.  Theres no obvious sign of a concussion, but I cant be sure with out an X-ray.  Lets hope hes only dazed and will snap out of it shortly.  What do you think could have set off Dr. Enderman?
Your guess is as good as mine, Lane said.  Major, has there been any friction between these two before?  Perhaps something trite that may have been building up?
Not that I know of, Deputy.  As far as I know, Dr. Fresno wouldnt put any moves on Dr. Enderman.  Hes aware shes a lesbian and that would probably upset her, but Fresno has always acted as a gentleman as far as I know.  Dr. Enderman thinks I dont know about her girlfriend down in Vegas, but its my job to know where my people go and what they are doing.  Shes very good at her job and as long as her sexual preference doesnt interfere, Im not supposed to interfere either.  You know the new Army, dont you?  Dont ask; dont tell?  That applies even more to civilian employees.  Perhaps much more since they are specialists and much harder to replace than common soldiers.
Okay, Lane said.  Just one more puzzle that will have to wait for answers.  Im going to check that fire again.  We dont want that flaring up if we can help it.  He went back into the house.
Anything I can do to help, doctor? Major Bricker asked Connie.
I think you can help me get him sitting up, major.  He seems to be coming around.  Connie had crushed an ammonia capsule and was waving it under Dr. Fresnos nose.  He gasped and coughed and spluttered.  Between her and the major they got the man upright where he could breathe easier.
Get that damn thing out of my face! were the first words he shouted.  Wheres Dr. Enderman?  That little bitch beaned me with something.  Why, dammit?
Take it easy, Dr. Fresno, the major said.  Shes here but shes under restraint.  How are you feeling?
Like Ive been kicked by a goddamned mule, major!  How do you think I feel?
Look at me, Connie said.  How many fingers?  She held up three.
Three, okay?  Im fine, just one hell of a headache.  Wheres Dr. Enderman?
No double vision?  No ringing in the ears? Connie asked.
No.  Look, I want to know whats going on.  We were checking for clues to what might have happened here.  Dr. Enderman was taking samples of the food which had been left on the table and the stove.  It was cold as all hell so I was building a fire in the fireplace to warm things up.  I just had it going well when she came in from the kitchen and clubbed me.
Shes in the deputys car, Connie said.  If you think youll be all right, Id like to go and check on her.
Yeah, yeah, go!  Im fine, I guess.  He waved her away with vague motions of his hands.
Connie went over to Lanes Blazer.  Dr. Enderman was lying face down on the rear seat, with her head pointed away from Connie.  Her wrists were manacled behind her back and looked red and chafed from where she must have struggled.  She seemed to be quiet now.  Connie opened the door and reached over to take her by the shoulder.
Dr. Enderman? she asked.  Im a physician, Dr. Conried.  How are you feeling now?
The woman mumbled groggily and Connie helped her to sit up.  Can you tell me anything about what happened? Connie asked.
About what?  Where?  I cant move my hands.  She looked down past her hip and could see the handcuffs on her wrist.  Why am I handcuffed?
Youve had a seizure of sorts.  You were in the house gathering specimens.  Dr. Fresno lit a fire in the fireplace.  He says you clubbed him.  Do you remember doing that?
Why, no, of course not!  Dr. Fresno and I have worked together for more than a year.  Were friends.  Why would I do anything like that?  Do I have to be kept handcuffed?
Well take care of that as soon as we can, Connie assured her.  You dont remember striking Dr. Fresno?  You dont remember lighting a fire in the kitchen?
Dont be silly.  Thats ridiculous.
Lane came around the side of the house and walked over to Connie at the cruiser.  How is she, Connie?
I guess shes just experienced what I did the other night at Dana Wheatons house.  She says she doesnt remember a thing.  Do you suppose we can take the handcuffs off of her now?
Lane reached across the front seat and removed his keys from the ignition.  He fumbled on the ring for a moment until he found the right one, and unlocked Dr. Endermans wrists.  She rubbed them furiously trying to restore circulation.  In a moment she was able to get out of the car and stand up.
I remember being in the kitchen, she said when she had regained her composure.  I was taking little samples of food items and putting them into sample bags.  I was feeling pretty good, very good in fact.  After that its a blank, until I woke up in the back seat of this car.
Euphoria, Connie mumbled.
Whats that? Lane asked.
She was experiencing a euphoric high from something.  It couldnt have been from the food, she didnt eat anything.  And it happened after Dr. Fresno lit the fire.  It has to be something being burned in the fire place, thats all I can think of.
Hmm, Lane said.  There had been a fire at the Talbots, and there was a fire in the fireplace at Wheatons.  Arturo said there was a fire burning at his home also.  That seems to be a common thread in all these cases.  I think there was a fire at Winscotts place also, but thats not unusual this high in the mountains at this time of the year.
Weve got to get samples of the ashes in all those places, Lane.  Something being burned might just be behind all these outbreaks.  Remember the high incidence of hallucinogens I reported from our lab tests?  Maybe it wasnt anything these people took intentionally.  Perhaps it was something being burned in the fireplace and inhaling the vapors which brought on the attacks.
Its certainly worth checking out.  Thats about the only lead we have to go on at this time.
Deputy, Dr. Fresno called from a few feet away.  Im sorry if I was eavesdropping, but you mentioned something being burned in the fireplace.  When I was here the other day, I was poking around and I stuck something in my pocket then.  Id completely forgotten until you mentioned the fireplace just now.  He reached into a pocket of his parka and pulled out a small transparent plastic envelope.  He passed it over to Lane.
Yes, Ive seen this before.  And youd naturally expect to find it in the fireplace.  Do you recognize this, Connie?
She looked closely at it.  No, I dont think I do.  What is it?
Its the label from a package of Granny Tituss Paiute Potpourri, thats what it is.  And my daughter just bought one this morning.  Ive got to call home immediately!  He broke away from them and ran into the Yanceys home looking for a phone.  He found one in the living room.  He grabbed the handset and held it to his ear.  It was dead.  No dial tone.  Evidently the Yanceys hadnt been able to afford to pay their phone bill and it had been shut off.  He raced back out into the yard.
Ive got to get home immediately.  Major!  You stay with Fresno and Enderman.  You can drive into town with them.  Well all meet at my place later.  Jump in, Connie, weve got to hurry!
Connie quickly slammed the rear door where Enderman had gotten out; then slipped into the passenger seat.  Lane got in and cranked up the engine.  He slammed the car into reverse and made a sliding, two point turn-around, shifting from reverse to drive almost before the car stopped and went roaring down the drive and out to the highway.  He flipped on his lights and siren just before he hit the asphalt where he made a skidding turn that nearly set the Blazer up on two wheels.



Chapter 14

It was late afternoon and the sun would be going down very soon.  Tutu had cleaned the ashes out of the airtight stove in the living room and added fresh coal to the burning embers remaining.  She shut the door quickly.  Dad was right, the coal was not smelly when burned in the airtight stove, but if she left the door open it would soon smell up the house.  The house was already musty from cooking odors, and from cleaning the weapons earlier.  She tried to recall where she had put that cellophane package of potpourri and remembered it was in her coat pocket.  The coat was hanging in the front hall.
She went to the hall and found the package and brought it back into the living room.  She and her dad kept a water filled cast-iron kettle on top of the airtight maintain humidity in their home.  If she added the potpourri to that kettle the fragrance should soon fill the house while she fixed dinner.  She hadnt asked earlier, but she assumed that Connie would stay to eat with them.  It was beginning to look as though her dad and Connie were developing a very close relationship.  Tutu hoped that maybe there would be a wedding by spring.  That would be nice.
She recalled that shed never asked about Connies parents.  Didnt the father of the bride usually pay for the wedding?  Would dad and Connie have a big fancy wedding?  (Not in Valley Forks she told herself.  A wedding party, even if it included living soul in this dinky town, could hardly be called big or fancy.)  Maybe they would drive down to Vegas to one of those little wedding chapels.  But Connie hadnt been married before.  Shouldnt a woman have a fancy wedding to remember always?  
Tutu found the water level in the kettle quite low so she took it to the kitchen to add more.
*     *     *
Even though there was no traffic on the main road, Lane slowed when they entered the town.  He slowed because he knew he should for safety reasons and because the roads were still icy.  But, he kept his foot on the pedal and drove as fast as he dared.  He had to get home before Tutu opened that package of potpourri.  Hed never forgive himself if something happened to his little girl!  They were only doing forty when they whipped past Arts Exxon.  At Rhyolite, Lane took the corner too fast and the rear wheels skidded around the corner.  He corrected by turning the wheels into the skid and giving the engine more gas until the wheels dug in and pulled the car out of the slide.
Lane!  I know weve got to hurry, but we wont get there at all if you crack us up on the way! Connie screamed into his ear.  He realized he was going too fast and slowed as they whipped past Pyrite.  When they reached Borax he didnt even turn so he could pull into his own drive.  Instead he drove the car straight across the street and pulled to a stop at the side of the road.  He slammed the transmission into park and killed the engine while leaping out the door at nearly the same time.  He raced up the front steps and burst through the front door just in time to see Tutu putting the kettle on top of the stove in the front room.
Tutu!  Wheres the potpourri we got at the diner? he yelled at her.
She wilted visibly under his blast.  Its in the kettle, dad.  I was just putting it on the stove.  I wanted to freshen this place up while I cooked dinner.  Wheres Connie?
With brisk steps he walked over to her and took the kettle from the stove.  Connies just outside, which is where this is going right now.
But dad 
Ill tell you in a minute, Hon, Ive got to put this outside first.  He set the kettle down on the front porch and said to Connie just coming up the steps, We made it in time.  She was just putting it on the stove.  Come on in.  Ive got to call Arts and tell them not to sell any more of that stuff.  Ill also ask them to call anyone else who sells the stuff, and then we better get out and see this Granny Titus.
Lane called Arts Exxon and Ruthie answered.  Take all that Paiute potpourri and put it under the counter.  Dont let anyone buy any.  Got that?
Well, sure, Mr. Mauler.  But why?
No time to explain now, Ruthie.  Just do it.  Okay?
Sure.
As soon as I get off the phone, call everyone you know who sells that stuff, and tell them not to sell anymore.  Keep a list of everyone you talk to.  Ill have to go around and collect it all.  That stuff can be very dangerous, Ruthie, believe me.
Okay, Ill call right away.
Thanks, dear.  Its very important, and dont forget the list.
He hung up and turned to Connie.  Ill get us an extra flashlight.  Its going to be dark before we get there.
Where? she asked.
Why, Granny Tituss, of course.  Weve got to collect all her product and find out what she puts into the mixture.  I hate to say it, but its possible she could be guilty of manslaughter or negligent homicide at the least.
Im sure she wasnt aware that there was anything dangerous in her potpourri, Lane.  In the wilds, nature constantly experiments with mutations.  Bees can cross-pollinate unusual combinations of plants.  Once in awhile a new species is developed.  Its been going on for billions of years, you know.
Act of nature or not, Connie, a producer is liable for their product.  Look at what the courts have done to the tobacco industry and what theyre trying to do to gun manufacturers.
She wont go to jail, will she Lane?  Shes just a harmless old woman trying to supplement her pension check.
Thats not for me to decide, Connie.  I only collect evidence and leave decisions like that to the DA.  Thats his job.
All right, lets get going before it gets any darker.
It was dark, nonetheless, when Lane got the Blazer turned around and headed south on the main road.  They drove past Ed Bromleys and past Winscotts.  Two miles later Lane found the mailbox he was searching for, perched atop a post on the left side of the highway.  It was easy to spot because someone had fastened alternating red and yellow reflector disks to the post.  Lane slowed and pulled onto the rutted track that led off into the trees a couple hundred yards away.
He kept his headlights on hi-beam and flipped a switch on the dash.  High-powered road lamps mounted on the roof with the red and blue beacons illuminated the terrain ahead and slightly to each side.  The light caught the eyes of a coyote bounding into the darkness giving Lane and Connie a glimpse of blood-red eyes before the canine disappeared.  Must have spoiled the coyotes dinner tonight, Lane thought.
They drove for nearly half a mile before they found the log shack under the pines.  The front of the two-room cabin had a badly sagging porch and cordwood stacked out of the weather.  There was a plywood-patched outhouse about twenty yards off to the left rear.  To the right was a ten by twelve shed with a door barely held up by one hinge.  The other had pulled from the frame and flapped ineffectually from the door-frame.  No light shone from within.
Lane pulled to a stop directly in front of the shack.  There were no vehicles about but he knew that Granny Titus didnt own one.  Lane knew people who dwelt far off the beaten path were cautious and wary of strangers, especially on a dark night.  Many of them owned shotguns and were not afraid to use them.  He honked the horn three short blasts and then grabbed his radio mike from the dash as he flipped a switch.
Granny?  This is Deputy Mauler and Dr. Conried.  Wed like to talk with you a moment.  Can we come in?  His voice came out of a loud speaker behind the radiator grill.  It had a booming and commanding tone and he had no doubt she heard him if she was home.  Where else would she be at night?  Valley Forks didnt run a bingo game.
Granny Titus?  Im going to get out of the car and come up to the porch now.  Dont shoot.  He told Connie to wait in the car and got out with his flashlight in his left hand.
He was silhouetted fully by the high intensity driving lights shining on his back.  He held his arms wide, away from his sides, and advanced purposely to the porch.  Although the night was cold, in the mid-thirties and dead calm, beads of perspiration formed on his forehead and upper lip.  His armpits felt clammy.  He reminded himself that he wasnt back in Long Beach.  There were no drug pushers here.  It wasnt a domestic dispute where a female calls because her boyfriend is beating her and then attacks the officer who tries to help her.  Lane had always hated domestic calls.  They were at the bottom of his all time least-favorite-crap-list.
He tentatively put one foot onto the sagging porch but no crashing blast of gunfire greeted him.  Granny? he called as he took another step.  One more step and he was knocking on the door.
No answer.  He knocked louder.  Still there was no answer.  He tried the door and it opened on squeaky hinges.  He flicked on his flash and held it at shoulder height while he pushed the door open and stepped half into the cabin.
It was a shambles.  There was a table and two chairs, all over turned and flung about.  Broken dishes were scattered on the kitchen sink and floor.  That awful smell that he was too familiar with assaulted his nostrils.  He knew he would find a body here.  He shone the light to his right, behind the door and along the wall.
 A bookshelf hung by one end from the wall.  Books and magazines littered the floor.  There had been an Indian blanket and some feathered ornaments on the wall also.  They were now torn and smashed on the floor.  Aside from the general disarray, there was nothing more to find here.  He advanced across the room to the sink and kitchen counter and the door leading to the bedroom beyond.  Inside he steeled his nerves for what he knew must be in there.
At first it was just a black opening in the interior wall of the cabin.  Then his light shined into the far corner and he could see a chest of drawers with the drawers pulled open or smashed on the floor.  An oil lamp must have been on the chest for the floor was littered with broken glass and the smell of kerosene was added to that other awful odor.
Lane stepped into the room and swung the flashlight rapidly to his left.  The old womans nude body was hanging in the air.  Each wrist had been tied and then she was hoisted, spread-eagled, by a rope thrown over a rafter.  Long slices of the muscles over each breast left them sagging, inside out, down to her waist.  Her belly had been sliced open and intestines hung down to the blood soaked bed.  As if that hadnt been bad enough, the killer had used his knife to gouge the eyes from her face.  Her head lolled forward on her naked chest.  The nipples had been cut from her breasts leaving oblong holes you could see through.  Lane looked for them on the bed and on the floor but didnt see them.
It was obvious Granny Titus couldnt have done this to herself.  Someone else had to have done it.  Could that person still be nearby?
Lane spun and ran from the cabin as he heard the Blazer start up.  When he ran from the porch all he could see was taillights winking at him.  There was some one in the drivers seat; and it wasnt Connie!  She was being kidnapped!  Lane couldnt risk a shot so he started running.  Not too fast, he told himself, just a quick jog, difficult in the snow.  The vehicle was getting farther and farther away.  First it was fifty yards, then a hundred, then two!  Suddenly the taillights flared brightly and the Blazer pitched forward.  Evidently the driver, probably the killer of Granny Titus, had run into a ditch covered by the recent snow.
Lane saw the dome light go on as the man opened the door, left the car and continued running on foot.  Lane pressed on as fast as he could, but the altitude and the snow combined to slow him down.  The running man had only a short distance before he would make it to the plowed road and be off from there.  By the time Lane reached the Blazer the man was nowhere in sight.  
Lane quickly checked Connie for injuries but he found none other than a cut lip and a bloody nose where the man must have hit her.  He grabbed a handful of snow and rubbed her cheeks and forehead and she responded quickly.
Where is he now? she asked.
Gone.  Headed into the night, running down the road.  Let me get us unstuck and well take off after him if you feel up to chasing him.
Ill be fine.  What did you find at the cabin?
Granny Titus is dead.  Im assuming the guy who stole the Blazer is the one who killed her.  Did you get a good look at him?  Can you provide a description?
Not much of a look, it all happened so fast.  I was watching you, concentrating on the cabin and I guess he circled around and approached from behind.  With the bright lights in front of me, there was no way I could see anything behind me, and with the door closed I didnt hear him either.  First thing I knew was when the drivers door was jerked open and the dome light came on.  I got a glimpse of a mans face, about thirty I guess, with dark hair and hazel eyes.  Then something smashed me in the face and I went out.
Okay, sit tight and Ill get us out of here.  The Blazer had manual locking hubs on the front axle.  Lane hadnt been in four-wheel drive when he drove to Granny Titus cabin because the snow hadnt been very thick.  The entrance to her cabin had been cleared by someone, an acquaintance, perhaps, who picked her up and dropped her off as needed.  
Lane got out and locked both front hubs then got in and engaged the four-wheel drive.  A moment later he was rocking the Blazer from forward to reverse and then backing out of the rut the front end had dropped into and steering his way around it to the highway beyond.
From your hazy description, Connie, the man could have been Dumont, the escapee from Idaho.  What I cant figure is how he could have made it all the way here to Valley Forks without anyone spotting him.  He must have seen the tracks in the snow where a vehicle had driven in and out of Grannys place, and thought he might be able to steal a car.  Finding none he killed Granny instead and stole the Blazer when we drove in.  Im sorry to say that I goofed and didnt spot his tracks in the snow.  Lane felt slightly embarrassed.
I didnt see any tracks either.  Maybe he avoided the dirt road to Grannys and circled around through the woods.  He must have done something to take her by surprise.  Ohmygosh, Lane!  I just realized it must have been the butt of a rifle or shotgun that he struck me with.  I guess that means hes armed and dangerous now.
Which means well have to be twice as cautious when we find him, but twice as thorough looking for him.  Hes a killer, whether he has a weapon or not, and it doesnt seem to bother him who he kills.  Let me put out a broadcast on this right away.  They had just reached the highway and Lane stopped the car while he used the radio.
It suddenly occurred to Lane that he was damn lucky Dumont hadnt hidden in the trees and killed him as he came out of the cabin, and then taken care of Connie at his leisure.  Perhaps Dumont had been part way out to the highway by then and returned only when he saw Lane and Connie driving to the cabin?  That would explain how he came to approach Connie from the rear.
Lane easily reached the night duty sergeant at headquarters and advised them of the murder of Granny Titus and the possible sighting of Dumont in the area.  Later, when Lane drove Connie back to his place, he could show her a fax image of the man for more positive identification.  Because of the extreme isolation of the cabin, Lane did not feel obliged to stand guard over Granny Titus throughout the night.  It was highly unlikely anyone would disturb his crime scene.  Besides, now that he had reason to suspect that Dumont was in the area, he wanted to spend the night at home where he could make sure Tutu and Connie would be safe.
First things first, he reminded himself.  He had to make an attempt to locate Dumont before heading home.  Lane put the Blazer in gear and turned left, away from town.  His plan was to search the roadside for at least a mile before turning back and trying the other direction.  He asked Connie to keep a sharp watch out her side of the window, especially for footprints in the snow.
If hes smart, hell stay in the center of the plowed road where his prints wont show.  But if traffic came along, hed have to either flag it down or get off the road to hide.  Im betting hell hide to avoid being spotted and an alarm put out for him.
But surely hell know that youd put out an alert, wouldnt he?  Wouldnt it be more likely that hell try and flag down the first vehicle coming along so he could make a getaway?  He could always make up a story about car trouble or something?
I guess youre right, but we can hope hes not that smart.  Besides, would you stop after dark for a stranger carrying a rifle?
Of course I wouldnt, but maybe hell toss the gun off the road where it wont be seen.
Lane kept one eye on the snow on his shoulder of the road, while keeping the other on the cars odometer, and carrying on a conversation with only a portion of his brain.  By the time they had driven most of a mile he had convinced himself that Dumont must have headed in the other direction.  He radioed that information to headquarters also and was told his earlier report had been relayed to Reno and an FBI team was on its way to Tonopah already.  They would arrive by morning and additional deputies were being requisitioned from neighboring jurisdictions.  Roadblocks would be established as soon as possible in an effort to keep Dumont contained within the area where he had been spotted.
Lets hope that really was Dumont you saw, Connie, or else the FBI is going to a lot of trouble for nothing.
I wouldnt say that, Lane.  It seems reasonable to assume that whoever the guy may be, hes the one who killed Granny.  If its someone other than Dumont, the more men you have looking for him the sooner hell be caught.
The only thing that worries me, Connie, is the FBI.  They can only exercise jurisdiction when the suspect has crossed a state line or committed a crime on federal property.  If this guy is the killer, but isnt Dumont, its possible a lawyer could get him off by claiming the FBI had no legal jurisdiction here.
You really are a pessimist, Lane.  Dont you want this guy caught?
Sure I do, but Id rather see him dead.  That would save the government a hell of a lot of money by avoiding the cost of a trial.
You dont think he deserves a trial?
Whoever he is, if hes carrying a gun he took from Grannys house, then hes guilty as far as Im concerned.  I dont think he might be an innocent passerby who just happened upon her dead body and then took the gun for protection.  If this stranger is Dumont, I hope he tries to use that weapon if I'm lucky enough to be the one who nabs him.
My, my!  Are we feeling our Wheaties tonight?  Or has Tutu been feeding you raw meat?
You didnt see what he did to her, Connie.
Maybe not yet, but Im sure I will, she said solemnly.
When they passed the turnoff to Grannys place, Lane slowed again to allow them to keep an eye out for footprints.  He was aware that at any moment, gunfire could strike out at them from the darkness and he wished he could persuade Connie to let him take her home where she would be safe with Tutu.  He didnt try because he knew she would object, claiming that he couldnt watch for prints as on both sides of the road at the same time.  Besides, if he took time out to drive her home, Dumont might get away, they had to keep pushing him and not allow him time to stop and develop a plan to escape.  Since Lane could not think of a valid argument to use against Connies certain objections, he didnt bring the matter up.
Lane, stop! she said.  Look there.
Lane got out and used his flashlight to examine the tracks she had seen.  They were more than a mile from where they had begun their search.  Someone had leaped from the road right here, landing about nine feet away and towards the trees.  Lane could tell from the sharpness of the tracks that they were recent.  If they had been made during the day when it was warmer, or any of the previous days, the sun would have melted the edges of the footprints leaving them rounded.  These were sharp clear and had to have been made tonight.  By the length of the stride, the man had been traveling as fast as he could run.  Lane glanced down the road behind the Blazer.  In the moonlight he could see it ran for more than a quarter of a mile before making a curve to the east.  Dumont could have heard their engine much further away than that in the still night air, but he waited until he saw their lights before heading for the trees.
He might be taking a bead on Lane right now.  The thought made Lane shudder.  Lane took a triangular reflective safety marker from the Blazer and set it beside the road opposite the killers tracks so he could find them when he came back.  He was definitely going to drive Connie home now.  As a law enforcement officer he had no right to expose her to danger while he tracked this killer.  He got into the car and headed for home without asking whether she wanted to go or not.
As bad as he wanted to get Connie home and drop her where she and Tutu would be safe, Lane held his speed down to just twenty-five miles an hour.  The water on the highway from melting snow during the day was beginning to freeze again, and the road was slick with ice.  They hadnt gone half a mile from where hed left the reflective marker when he could see the loom of approaching headlights coming around a curve in front of them.  Lane eased over toward the shoulder as far as he could without losing traction and blinked his headlights from low to high and back again several times in an effort to alert the approaching driver.
All of a sudden the headlights appeared from around the bend.  The driver saw Lanes vehicle and stepped on his brakes, but too hard.  The rear wheels lost traction and the car began a clockwise spin as the rear wheels tried to pass the front.  The other car hadnt been traveling too fast, barely thirty-five miles an hour, but the skid careened it directly towards Lane and Connie.  Lane turned to the right trying to move further off the road but it was no good.  The back end of the car, a sporty red Cherokee, struck Lanes Blazer just to the rear of the drivers door and the impact drove them off the road and over the embankment.
The drop wasnt far, less than ten feet, but the tires were pushing up snow as the car slid to the right and when it went over and down it first lay on its side and then rolled until the tires were pointing at the snow laden clouds.  The Cherokee had been checked in its spinning slide and began to spin in the other direction until the rear wheels dropped into a drainage ditch little more than a foot and a half deep.  It stopped with a sudden halt while the rear axle sunk off the highway and the headlights angled up toward the low clouds and gently drifting snow.
Lanes first impulse was to shut off the ignition and then to check on Connie.  When the Blazer stopped upside down they were both suspended by their seat belts.  Lane put a hand over his head to support him as he released his seat belt and eased down to the roof of the Blazer beneath him.  He pushed his door open and crawled out, then around to open Connies door where he began to extricate her from the vehicle.
The door wouldnt budge and he saw Connie had automatically locked the door when they had been driving earlier.  He pounded on the door to get her attention but she was dazed and out.  He went back around to the drivers side and thumbed the door-lock switch until he heard the locks pop open, then returned to her side of the car.  He pulled it open, pushing snow aside as he did so.  Connie was in an awkward and un-ladylike position with her knees against the underside of the dash and her skirt showing more skin than she would have liked if she had been conscious.  Lane got an arm under her shoulders and behind her neck and released her seat belt.
She dropped from the seat into his arms in an awkward upside down position.  He began sliding her out of the vehicle hoping that he wasnt making any hidden injuries worse.  In moments he had her lying flat in the snow and then lifted her to a sitting position and rubbed snow on her cheeks and neck.
She regained consciousness quickly and tried to push his hands away.  Stop it, she said.  Thats cold.
How are you feeling? he asked.  Can you wiggle your toes and move your legs?
She hesitated for a moment as she tried out her appendages.  Yes, and my hands and arms seem okay too.  But Im getting cold fast, help me up please.
Land helped her to her feet.  If you can, we need to climb up the bank and check on the driver of the other car.
I can make it, she said.  Lets go.
The bank wasnt steep but their shoes packed the snow solid and made it slippery.  Lane found he could make progress by climbing sideways and digging the edges of his boots into the snow and frozen earth.  He held Connies hand tightly and helped her up the slope.  Back on the highway they found the red Cherokee hadnt gone far and they quickly crossed to it.  Lane pulled the drivers door open.
The driver was a chubby fellow of about forty with a shiny bald spot on the top of his head.  The jacket of his suit lay on the front seat beside him.  In the back were a briefcase and an overnight bag.  Several empty twelve-ounce beer cans lay on the floor behind the front seat.  In front there were two full cans still wearing their plastic six-pack necklace and an opened can spilled on the floor.
Christ, Lane said to Connie, driving at night, in snow and ice, isnt dangerous enough for this clown, he has to make it worse by chugging down a few brews.  Does he look hurt to you?
Connie reached over and grabbed the mans left wrist.  Pulse seems okay.  Looks like hes breathing all right.  My guess is he just passed out after the car stopped.  Doesnt seem to be hurt at all.
Yeah.  The Lord looks out for fools and little children.  Lane wondered how many times he had seen this same tableau before.  Drunk driver smashes into another car or pushes them off the road, maybe kills several people.  And the drunk sleeps through it all.  There just aint no justice in this world, he told himself.
Im stymied, Connie.  I dont know what to do.  This guys car isnt going anywhere without a tow truck.  Its not a four-wheel drive model.  The way the rear-end has slid off the road and into that ditch means its going to be stuck here for a while.  I guess I ought to handcuff this guy and leave him in his car while I see what I can do about the Blazer.  If I can get it on its feet, we might be able to drive it out of here.
We cant just sit here, not with a killer roaming around out there somewhere in the dark.  Even if we get the Blazer on its wheels, it looks as though the light bar and radio antenna have been smashed.  I doubt if I can radio for help now.
Connie whipped her arms around her and began to stamp her feet to keep the circulation going.  Well, whatever you decide, Lane, Ill help.  I dont plan on freezing to death out here.
I dont either, Connie.  Lets handcuff this guy and put a blanket over him.  Ive got some rescue equipment in the Blazer.  Maybe we can get ourselves out.  At least well work up a sweat trying.
That suits me, Connie said.
Lane put both of the mans arms through the lower half of the steering wheel, then cuffed them together on top of the steering column.  He went back to the Blazer and found a wool blanket and a foil sheet called a space blanket which was designed for use in survival situations.  Wrapped around the body, it would keep out the wind while reflecting body heat back toward the wearer.  He took those items back to the Cherokee and wrapped the space blanket around the mans shoulders and torso, and then covered him with the wool blanket.  That should keep him from dying for a few hours at least.  He turned off the Cherokees headlights but turned on the hazard flashers and then closed the door.  Satisfied the man wouldnt go anywhere, nor be a road hazard to other motorists, Lane helped Connie down the embankment to where the Blazer lay.
He opened up the back and surveyed the jumble of rescue equipment lying on the roof-cum-floor of the Blazer.  He actually had quite a bit to work with.  He selected a come-along, a fifteen-foot tow chain, and a fifty-foot length of half-inch nylon line.  He tied the rope to the trunk of a ten-inch pine just twenty feet away and led it toward the Blazer.  Then he took the chain and carried it around to the uphill side of the cruiser.  Since the vehicle was upside down he was on the passenger side.  He reached in through Connies open door and turned on the ignition to lower her window as well as the one for the rear seat.  As soon each window had been lowered completely he shut off the ignition key again and closed the passenger door.
Next he wrapped one end of the tow chain twice around the doorpost a made it secure by passing the running end under the turns he had taken.  He tossed the bitter end over the upside down chassis where it hung down toward the ground.  Gravity held it in place.
He went around the vehicle and used a chain knot to fasten the chain to the bill of one hook on the come-along, then he pushed down the ratchet release and drew out the full twelve feet of quarter inch steel cable on the drum.  When he got to the end he picked up the nylon line and passed it through the other hook on the come-along and pulled it tight going around the tree and back to the come-along again.  He had enough line to run it four times around the tree and back to the come-along each time.  Connie had been watching this all along.
Well, thanks for letting me help, she said.
Sorry, Connie.  There really wasnt much that I needed help with.
Then why am I freezing my feet standing in this snow when I could be up on the road flagging down a passing motorist?
Did someone pass? he grunted as he strained on the ratchet bar of the come-along.
Well, no, but someone might have.
Hold your horses and well drive up there in just a moment.  He strained again and again as the steel cable was rewound on the small drum.  The nylon rope gave and stretched as nylon does, but there were sufficient turns that it soon quit stretching and the pull of the come-along was transferred to the tow chain and the overturned Blazer.  Suddenly what he feared most happened.  The damn car began sliding on its roof, tobogganing over the snow.  He leapt from the path of the approaching mass and landed a few feet away in the snow.
The Blazer wound up against the tree where he had tied the nylon line and he knew he couldnt move it again.  He untied the nylon rope and the chain as well.  He gathered all the retrieval gear in his arms and started up the bank.
Done so soon? Connie asked.  I thought we were going to drive up the bank?
Land didnt answer immediately.  He was trying to keep his footing on the slippery snow.  At last he reached the top and paused to catch his breath.  I thought it would be fairly easy to roll the Blazer back upright using the come-along.  It increases our mechanical advantage and gives us a two thousand pound pull.  I didnt count on the car sliding across the snow on its top.  I guess it wasnt such a good idea, so now we try plan B.
And whats plan B, Connie puffed as she climbed up the bank.
We pull the Cherokee out of the ditch and drive home in it.
But I thought you said it would take a tow truck to pull it out, Connie said.
Maybe we can do it, and maybe we cant, Lane said as he crossed the road and moved over to the Cherokee.  We wont know until we try.
And what it that doesnt work either? she asked.
Then we move to plan C.
Of course!  Plan C!  I had forgotten about that one.  And it is?
We walk.  But Im not in a hurry to try that one, so lets start with plan B.  Grab the car keys and lets open up the back, please.  I need to get at the spare tire.
I didnt know any of the tires were flat, she said.
As far as I know, they arent.  But there isnt anything near enough to the car for me to tie the tow chain to.  I want to use the spare as a deadman.
I hope youre speaking rhetorically, Connie murmured.  I think weve had enough dead bodies for one day.
Not that kind of a deadman.  I mean an anchor.  If youll go down to the Blazer and bring back that D-handle shovel, Ill get out the spare tire and dig a hole to bury it in.  But first Ill tie on the tow chain, and then we can attach the come-along and hopefully pull out the Cherokee.
Oh, that kind of a deadman!  Okay, Im with you now.  Ill be right back.  She headed off the road once more to bring Lane the shovel.  Lane judged her thin leather shoes must be quite wet by now and her feet would be freezing, but there wasnt much he could do for her until he got the Cherokee out of the ditch.
He considered putting her in the passenger seat, starting the engine and letting the heater warm her, but he didnt want to add more weight to the vehicle, nor did he want that drunk to regain consciousness and make trouble with Connie in the car and the engine running.  He could just dump the drunk out in the snow.  No he couldnt, damn it!  As a deputy he was responsible for the prisoner and he wouldnt sanction cruel treatment.  Even if it meant more of a hardship on Connie and himself, his sense of duty required him to take proper care of the prisoner.
He wrestled the spare tire out of the back and rolled it along the highway to a spot about thirty feet in front of the Cherokee.  Connie had just returned with the shovel and he took it from her and began to dig.  Fortunately the ground wasnt frozen solid and todays melt had softened it appreciably.  He dug a hole slightly larger than the tire when it was laying flat on the ground.
Cant I do anything to help, Connie asked.  Im sure that if I were doing something active I wouldnt be so damn cold.  That breeze is starting to get pretty stiff.
Well, look on the bright side
If there is one, I have yet to see it.  Connies morale was definitely getting lower, not that he blamed her.
if the wind is blowing more than five miles an hour, that means no fog so theres not much chance someone else might come along and run into us.  On the other hand, if the wind is blowing less than fifty miles an hour, it doesnt stand a chance of knocking us to the ground.  He grinned at her and wiped perspiration from his forehead.  He took off his parka and handed it to her.  Here, Im working up a sweat digging in the mud and thats not healthy in winter weather.  You wear this and maybe itll help.
Thanks, Lane.  She put it on and quickly zipped it up to her chin.  His warmth and masculine aroma certainly comforted her.  Would it help if I stood guard or something?  That Dumont guy might try and sneak up on us while youre busy digging.
Lane didnt pause.  He continued digging as he talked.  I want Dumont to ignore you, Connie.  I dont want him to think of you as a threat.  If youre no threat to him, hell probably leave you alone.  At least until hes dealt with me.
Thats what Im worried about.
If I could, Connie, Id have you climb up higher, about thirty yards away where youd stand a chance of hearing him if he tried to sneak up on us.  But I dont want us to split up either.  If he were to take you prisoner then Id be in a very vulnerable position.
Would it help if I took your gun with me?
No, that would make it worse.  Then youd be a threat to him.  I know you want to help, Connie, but there isnt anything I can think of that wont put you at greater risk.  Please stay here with me.  Im nearly finished.
He had dug the hole two and a half feet, maybe even three.  He wrapped one end of the chain around the spare tire and through the hub in the center securing it with two half hitches.  Then he dropped it into the hole where it lay flat.  He pulled the chain in the direction of the Cherokee and used the blade of the shovel to cut a narrow slit to lower the angle of pull on the tire.  When he had it as low as he could make it, he began back filling the hole.
With that done he let out the cable on the come-along and affixed it to the underside of the Cherokee.  Then he took four turns of the nylon rope from the hook of the come-along to the hook of the tow chain and gave several tugs on the ratchet arm of the come-along until the cable was tight.
Okay, Connie, now we unlock our slumbering friend and put him in the back seat with his arms cuffed behind him.  Then you get in the drivers seat with the engine running.  You can drive a standard shift, cant you?  She nodded that she could.  Okay, dont gun the engine, youll only spin the tires.  I just want you to ease the clutch out until you load the engine a little.  Ill be pulling with the come along and hopefully when we move this thing two or three feet youll have traction and we can get out of here.
Okay, I understand, Lane.  She waited until Lane had unlocked the prisoner and put him in the back seat.  The drunk was still passed out and was quite a load for Lane but he managed just the same.  She got behind the wheel and started the engine and let it idle in neutral for the moment.
Might as well turn the heater on, Lane said.  It wont do any good until the engine warms up but maybe itll make you feel better.
Connie smiled at him.  A hot buttered rum and clean sheets would make me feel a whole lot better, Lane.  Ill settle for just getting warm.  Ready when you are.
Lane took his position at the come-along and began cranking on the ratchet.  It was slow going at first.  The ratchet only took in about an inch of cable with each throw.  He had pulled in nearly two feet before the nylon rope stopped stretching and took up the strain.  Slowly the Cherokee began to inch forward.  Even with the tremendous mechanical advantage Lane had, it was still tough going.  The right rear tire of the Cherokee had to roll forward and lift the vehicle a vertical distance of at least twelve inches to get it out of the ditch.  It was a real strain with each throw of the ratchet lever and Lane was panting with the exertion.  But the car was moving, maybe only slightly, but moving nonetheless.
Connie did well too.  She gave the engine a little gas and eased the clutch out until the tire began to spin and then she eased off again.  Over and over she gave power while Lane kept ratcheting.  One inch.  Two.  Three inches and then the wheel found traction and the car spurted ahead.  Connie turned the wheel sharply to the left to avoid hitting Lane who was kneeling just a short distance in front of the Cherokee.
They had done it!  Lane was smiling as he retrieved the come-along and the nylon rope.  The chain and spare tire could wait for another time as far as he was concerned.  Connie found she had been devoting one hundred per cent of her attention to the engine, clutch and gas pedal, and hadnt even noticed as the engine temperature gauge climbed to the normal mark and the heater began blowing warm air over her cold feet.  Now they felt like they were on fire, burning up!  As a doctor she knew that she had come perilously close to a case of frostbite and the burning sensation was circulation returning to her wet feet.  Shed be all right when she could get them warm and dry.
Lane opened the rear door and tossed the rope and come-along to the floor.  Connie moved aside and he crawled in behind the wheel.  Better now? he asked her.
Definitely!  I would have given up long before if it werent for you, Lane.  I would have just sat beside the road and waited for someone to come along.
I was tempted, Connie.  But I learned a long time ago, when I was in the Army in fact, you cant be beaten until you give up.  As long as you keep trying there is always some chance, no matter how slight.  Ready for home?
As fast as you can get us there, Lane.
Which wont be too fast because I dont want to slide off the road again, he said.


Chapter 15

When Dumont heard the vehicle coming up the road he looked quickly for cover.  There was none close by.  He ran a few steps and leaped off the right side of the road.  With his momentum and the slight drop off, he landed nearly fifteen feet from the road, but there still wasnt much cover.  He headed for the trees forty yards away.  His wet boots scuffed the fresh snow and left glaring tracks that would be easy to spot when the moon came out.  It couldnt be helped.  He had to get into the trees where he could hide.  Besides, it was colder than the hinges of hell out and the exercise was the only thing keeping him from freezing.  Hed tried to find something warm to wear at the Indian broads house, but how was he to know she lived alone?  The only coat she had was a surplus Army field jacket about four sizes too small for him.  To make up for his disappointment hed carved her up good, and enjoyed doing it too.  Hed stolen the shotgun and six shells for it, but it would be no good in the open here.  That deputy could easily out shoot him since his automatic could be deadly as far as a hundred yards if the guy was any kind of a marksman.  But, Richard Dumont wasnt ready to give up yet.  Not when the only thing waiting for him was a trial and a hangmans noose.  No, that wasnt right; Utah still favored the firing squad he seemed to remember.  In any case, fighting for his life gave him few alternatives.
Hed been driving a stolen pickup earlier this morning.  When he heard the reports of roadblocks and the manhunt searching from him, he doubled back.  Originally hed been headed for Vegas where he felt sure he could lose himself in the throng of more than a million residents and the hundreds of thousands of tourists.  When he heard the radio reports he knew the cops would establish roadblocks, it was the easiest thing in the world.
Las Vegas is like an island in a wide sea of desert.  You can get in and out on I-15 if youre traveling east or west, and on US 95 if youre heading north or south.  When youre near Vegas there are numerous feeder roads, like veins and arteries serving the citys heart as it sprawls in the desert.  In order to cross the desert and move into another state there are only four roads.  When the law has blocked them and put surveillance at the bus and railroad terminals, when McCarran airport and the smaller North Las Vegas Airport are watched, nobody gets in or out of Vegas unnoticed.
So Dumont elected to turn north before he reached Tonopah.  They wouldnt expect him to be heading for Reno when hed last been seen moving south from Reno.  He turned off the heavily traveled US 95 onto SR 377.  Through Belmont and Valley Forks while he headed for Ely.  Maybe he could cross into Utah then head south for Arizona.  He might be able to hop a freight heading east.  If nothing else, he could always hole up in the mountains.  His heavy knife would cut thatch and saplings to build him a snug shelter.  With a small fire inside he could keep warm against the deepest cold and the stiffest winds.  Food would not be plentiful in the high desert mountains, but he could survive.  Hed have to find somewhere to ditch the pickup though, and hed have to do it in such a way that his tracks in the snow wouldnt give away his trail into the high country.
Out of necessity hed pulled the stolen pickup off the highway when it was nearly out of gas.  He drove through powdered snow a few inches deep and parked beneath a cluster of Arizona pines fifty yards off the highway.  Using his knife to cut several branches he camouflaged the pickup.  It probably wouldnt be spotted before spring melted the snow and dried the branches.  He cut another small sapling and brushed away his tracks as he walked back to the highway.  His efforts wouldnt fool a seasoned tracker because the snow would still show brush marks and a determined cop or an inquisitive hunter might decide to see what was up.  He knew too well that most cops today are not experienced in hunting for a man on the run.  Unless a criminal does something stupid like checking into a motel or buying liquor at a convenience market, the cops would chase their tails for quite some time.  They might give themselves airs and puff out their chests as a modern day Daniel Boone or Davy Crockett while drinking in a bar, but many had never been in the woods and couldnt tell the track of a deer from a cow or a rabbit from a coyote.
When he was back on the asphalt he continued north.  A road sign told him it was twelve miles to the town of Valley Forks.  He could walk twelve miles before dinner.  The air was still and traffic light on this seldom traveled back road.  On three occasions he heard the sound of an approaching car long before it could be seen.  Hed take shelter lying prone behind a clump of brush or anything that would break up his outline.  A driver is looking at the road and looking for other cars.  He will seldom spot anything within a few feet of the road unless it is moving or stands out because of color or by virtue of being in the open.  He easily avoided detection until he spotted the mailbox beside the highway.  He circled wide of the mailbox and spotted the cabin a few hundred yards off the road.  He was thoroughly chilled since he lacked warm clothing but he figured he could find something to wear in the cabin.  Smoke from a chimney told him he could at least get warm and perhaps find some food.  He approached the cabin from a blind side and surprised the old Indian woman when he broke in.
*     *     *
It was nearing ten when Lane pulled into his own drive.  He got out and assisted Connie into the living room.  Tutu was still up and watching some nonsense movie about a man and his wife traveling in their station wagon to a distant planet where they helped innocent locals over throw an oppressive ruler.  Mom and Dad Save the World, or something like that.
Hey, Squirt! he told her, how about a hot pot of coffee for Connie and me?  And we have a guest out in the car that I will bring in shortly.  Can do?
Can do, dad.  Whos the guest?  FBI?
No, what makes you ask?
Sheriff Denton called about an hour ago.  He said he couldnt raise you on the radio and wanted you to know the feds were in Tonopah already, but owing to the storm they wouldnt be driving down until morning.  I wasnt worried about you until he said he couldnt reach you, and then I got worried.
Tell you about it when I bring our mystery guest in.  Be right back.  Tutu excused herself and headed to the kitchen to put on fresh coffee while Connie took off Lanes parka and slid a hassock over near the airtight stove.  She took her shoes off and held her feet up in front of her to warm up.  They were feeling quite fine now and she didnt notice any suspicious discoloration of the flesh.  Shed probably be fine by morning.
Lane returned with the drunk in a few moments.  The drunk could stand now, providing Lane helped him.  Lane took him into his office and emptied the mans pockets.  He also relieved him of his belt, wallet, rings, and watch.  There was no need to confiscate his shoelaces because he was wearing loafers.  Lane took him down to the basement where the county had installed two cells with iron bars and a bathroom in between the cells.  The bathroom had block walls on each side which helped to further separate two prisoners if they were inclined to fight, but it had bars on the front side to permit continued observation of the prisoner.
Lane helped the drunk to a bunk in the left-hand cell, made sure he had a pillow and two blankets, then locked the door and went upstairs to finish his paper work.  There was an intercom in the basement so the deputy could keep an ear open for his prisoner.  Lane thought of it as a baby-monitor for prisoners.  As he went upstairs he turned off the fluorescent light overhead, leaving only a twenty-five watt lamp burning.  If the prisoner was afraid of the dark, that was too bad as far as Lane was concerned.
Back at his desk Lane took a police inventory envelope from a drawer and began listing the mans belongings for safekeeping.  His drivers license identified him as Dale Northcutt of Las Vegas.  He was forty-three, and judging from the photos in the wallet, Mr. Northcutt had a wife and two boys in their early teens.  Lane itemized three credit cards, two gasoline cards, an ATM card, a Clark County library card, a discount office supply ID card, an AT&T credit card and a VIP card to a major casino.  There was also one hundred and eighty-four dollars in cash.  Lane listed it all on the envelope, tossed in the car keys and called Connie in from the living room to verify the inventory and sign the envelope.
What would you do if I werent here? she asked.
Have Tutu sign it, I guess.  This is the first time Ive booked someone who wasnt in condition to sign for himself.  Things are a little different here in Valley Forks than in Long Beach.  Maybe I should mention it to Noah Denton the next time I drive up to Tonopah for one of his policy meetings?
Probably wouldnt be a bad idea.  You and I know  Tutu is a young adult and trustworthy, but if a prisoner claimed money was missing, or a credit card stolen, an attorney might see it another way.
Better safe than sorry.  I agree with you.
Tutu called from the living room.  Hey, do you guys want coffee in there or will you have it in the front room with the grownups?
What grownups? her dad asked as he walked into the living room with his arm around Connie.
Why, Connie and I, of course.  The two who dont track mud into the house and all over my nice clean floors.
Lane looked and saw that it was true.  He hadnt noticed how muddy he had gotten while burying the deadman and winching Northcutts car out of the ditch.  Okay, warden.  I confess, but I plead matters of mitigation and extenuation.  Right, Connie?  You tell her.
Your dad had a busy night, Tutu.  We would probably still be stuck by the side of the road if he hadnt dug the prisoners car out of a ditch.  As of matter of fact, we wouldnt have been stuck at all if it wasnt for our prisoner, but thats another story.  So you might be inclined to take it easy on him.
Oh, I was just teasing, Connie.  I just wanted to let him know that I do earn my keep around here, even if he doesnt notice.  She handed her dad a fresh cup of coffee.  See?  All is forgiven.
Same here, Sweet, her dad told her.  I really do appreciate all the little things you do for me and Im sorry if I dont always have time to itemize each and every one.
Now, she scolded him, youre pulling my leg.  I dont expect roses every time I mop a floor or wash your tans.  Besides, Id call it an even trade for all the good things youve done for me since mom, died.  
Did you hear that, Connie?  Youre a witness!  She actually admitted that Ive done some good for her in the past few years.
Dont make a federal case out of it Lane.  Why dont you just sit down and drink your coffee?  I already know you two love each other, in spite of the fact that you have different goals in life.  You too, Tutu, take a seat and Ill pour for you.  Ive never been so glad to get warm again.  For awhile there I thought my feet were never going to defrost.
Thanks, Connie, but Im going to have to take a rain check.  In case you havent noticed, its going on eleven oclock and Ive been up since early this morning.  Im going to call it a night and head for bed.  Ill see you both in the morning.  
Tutu surprised her dad by giving Connie a hug before giving him his usual good night hug and heading up the stairs.  Gnight, Punkin, he called after her.  Well, what now doctor?  Any ideas? he grinned at her.
Quit grinning, you lecherous old goat.  Im still a little shaken up from being kidnapped at gunpoint and then rolled off the side of the road in an accident.  Im all for a hot bath, a long soak with lots of sweet smelling bath oil, and then I want to go to bed too, but I want to sleep.
Lane feigned a hurt and innocent look.  Not even a little cuddling?
I think Id prescribe a lot of cuddling, but dont over do it.  I suspect Ill find a dozen fresh bruises from that accident before I get out of the tub, but I still want to be held.  It makes me feel good to know that youre here taking care of me.
I think you feel good any way you look at it, he teased.
She gave him a playful punch in the shoulder and headed upstairs for the tub.
Lane sat down on the sofa in the living room and found the remote for the VCR.  He shut off the tape Tutu had been watching and punched rewind.  Then, he punched for the late news on the tube.  Since Las Vegas wasnt uplinked via satellite, he chose the Los Angeles news.  The weather in Palm Springs and the Inland Empire wasnt much different from the desert, and occasionally they extended their forecast all the way to Vegas, though it didnt mean much since they were a few hundred miles north and nearly a mile higher in elevation.  After a few moments he decided he wasnt all that interested in the news.  It had been a long day for him also.  He clicked off the tube and headed upstairs.
In the hall leading to his bedroom he could hear Connie humming in the bath.  It was a loose and disconnected tune, perhaps something she had made up.  It made him feel good to have a woman in the house again.  Maybe when this mess with the violent and unexplained deaths, and with Dumont, maybe when all this died down he would talk to Connie about a more formal arrangement.  He still couldnt believe she found him attractive and wanted to share his bed but who needs to know why?  The fact she was here was enough for him.  Tutu seemed to enjoy her company also.  They were already good friends and Tutu evidently had not found it difficult to confide girl things to Connie.
Lane unpinned his badge and nametag and tossed his muddy uniform in the hamper.  Tomorrow being Sunday he didnt bother to set out a clean uniform.  He rummaged in a drawer until he found a comfortable pair of sweat pants and an equally comfortable T-shirt and put them on the dresser.  He heard Connie coming out of the bath and he padded down the hall in his underwear and bare feet.  She came out of the bath with her hair in a towel and another around her torso in that mysterious way only women can manage.  Lane felt it a major accomplishment if he could get a towel fastened around his slightly thickening waist, yet women somehow had the talent for getting a towel to almost cover them from bust to mid-thigh.
The bathroom was warmly moist and vaguely fragrant with her scent.  He stepped under the shower and massaged his scalp with a tingling dandruff shampoo.  He applied soap generously and worked up a rich lather as he washed away the mud and perspiration.  In a few moments he felt as though he were clean, without body odor Connie would find objectionable.  He rinsed and toweled off in the shower before stepping out onto Tutus floral bath mat.  He brushed his teeth and rinsed with a mint-flavored mouthwash.  Wrapping a towel around his waist he held it with one hand as he snapped off the light and headed for the bedroom.
Connie had already turned down the bed and crawled beneath the covers.  A reading lamp was burning on the nightstand on his side of the bed.  Hanging his towel on the closet doorknob Lane slid between the sheets.  Connie had her back to him but she had said she wanted to be held so he stretched his arm over her waist until he could cup one of her tiny breasts in his hand.  She was pleasantly warm and smelled wonderful.  In a moment she rolled over and put an arm around him while she slid one leg between his.
Werent you were the one who wanted only to cuddle tonight? he asked.
Cant a lady change her mind? she purred.
*     *     *
The sky had cleared and bright moonlight was streaming in Lanes east facing bedroom window.  Some vagrant noise pulled him from a very comfortable sleep.  He cocked an ear and listened for a moment and was about to lay his head back down when he heard it again.  It wasnt coming from Northcutt in the cell in the basement.  The intercom was right beside the lamp on the nightstand and Lane could hear his muted snoring.  It sounded like, there, he heard it again.  A scraping sound in the kitchen, as if someone had bumped into a chair in the dark.
He sat up suddenly.  It couldnt be Dumont?  Even if he had made his way up the road and into town, what were the odds of him breaking into this house?  There were at least sixty occupied homes in the small community of Valley Forks, and several vacant homes or other buildings where the escaped killer could seek shelter and find a place to hide.
Lane shook Connie awake but quieted her with a finger to her lips.  I think someone is in the house, he told her.  Go wake Tutu, but keep her quiet.  She has her thirty-eight in her room.  Both of you stay there, and dont come downstairs.
She has a phone too.  Do you want us to call the sheriff?
Dont be silly.  Im the sheriff here; after the heavy snowfall, backup couldnt get here for nearly two hours if they could get through at all.  Just stay in her room and dont let anyone through the door.  When I come back upstairs Ill call out so you wont have to worry about shooting me accidentally.  If anyone else tries to get through the door, dont ask questions, just shoot.  Got it?
Connie nodded.  She had taken to keeping a robe in Lanes closet weeks before and she slipped that over her shoulders now.  Lane pulled on his sweat pants and stepped to the hallway.  The hall was clear and all sounded quiet down stairs.  He pushed Connie towards Tutus room.  When she was inside and the door was closed he headed down the stairs.
Moonlight shone through the wide windows in the living room but not as brightly as in Lanes room because of the partially closed drapes.  He eased his way down the stairs, almost stepping on that squeaky one near the bottom before he caught himself in time and stepped over it to the next one below.  He crouched and paused to listen; still quiet.  Just a few more steps into the anteroom he used for an office.  His belt and holster were hanging over the back of the chair near his desk, just a few more feet.
He peered over the banister into the downstairs hall but could only glimpse a foot or so into the gloom of the darkened kitchen.  He tried craning his neck to get a better view into his office but there were too many shadows.  Quickly he stepped across the hall and slid his back up against the wall while he searched the inner recesses of his office with a swift glance.  There was a pale rectangle on the floor where moonlight from the living room filtered through the door but he couldnt see anything else.  He knew exactly where his chair was, exactly where his gun was hanging.  He could visualize every inch in his minds eye.  He could picture the leather strap snapped across the grip of his pistol.
Lane swallowed hard and wiped perspiration from his forehead then wiped his damp hand on his sweatpants.  Aint nothing to do but to do it! he told himself.  In two swift strides he had crossed the pale square on the floor and put his left hand on the back of the chair while his right hand reached down to undo the snap.
His holster was empty!
There was a loud Snick! from the wall switch as the lights were turned on.  Lane blinked in the blinding brilliance.  It took a moment before his eyes adjusted and he could see the man leaning against the doorjamb.  
His reflexes were trained to make a lightning evaluation of the suspect.  Lane saw a white male, about thirty-five.  He had shaggy brown hair, a beard of several days growth, and brown eyes.  He stood about five-ten, maybe five-eleven and weighed one eighty-five or so.  And Lanes nine-millimeter Browning was aimed squarely at his own chest.
Looking for this? Richard Dumont asked.  How fortunate of me to find the home of the local deputy.  I saw the mini-van in the driveway, and the county car with health services on the door.  Figured I might find the local doctor and maybe heist a few drugs.  Instead, I get lucky.  I stumble right into the local law, and for a change Ive got the gun.  How does it feel, Deputy Dawg?
Land straightened from where he had been leaning over the chair.  Instinctively he raised his hands.  Slowly and quietly he spoke.
Well, to tell you the truth, Ive never been real fond of anyone pointing a gun at me.  Particularly my own gun, since I always keep it loaded.  Lane wondered if Dumont had fed a round into the chamber?  A person familiar with a revolver but not an automatic normally assumed all you had to do was pull the trigger.  Squeaky Frome, one of the so-called family of Charlie Manson, had made that mistake when she came close to assassinating President Ford.  If Dumont hadnt worked the slide on the nine-millimeter the chamber would be empty and the gun would be useless.  Did Lane dare challenge him?  If he guessed wrong hed be deader than last weeks news, Dumont couldnt miss from six feet.
Two cars in the driveway, deputy.  Since youre certainly not a doctor or public health nurse, who does the other car belong to?  Your wife?  Girlfriend?  Where is she; in the bedroom upstairs?
If youd been here earlier, youd have seen Sarah Draper, the county nurse, drop her car off, Lane quickly invented.  She lives two blocks away but I promised that Id change her oil and filter for her tomorrow, he quickly improvised.  Im a widower.  I live here alone.  This is a county house, it goes with the job.
Id almost believe you, deputy, except that I can see two cups on the kitchen counter from here.  Youre sure this nurse dropped her car off with you and that shes not upstairs?  You know, Ive been incarcerated for several months while you law boys was takin care of the paperwork to ship me to Salt Lake City.  A piece of tail would really suit my appetite just about now, you know?  The wild-eyed man was practically salivating as he envisioned sexual release.
Go see for yourself, Lane said, trying to keep up the pretext and bluffing boldly.  By now Connie and Tutu would be pointing a thirty-eight at the bedroom door waiting for him to call out.  Sarah cant stay away from home long.  She has a developmentally challenged six-year-old boy.  Hes in a wheel chair and needs constant attention.  Lane was still spinning the tale.  Maybe he could distract Dumont, perhaps lull him into being careless?
And no loving husband to take care of the boy while she works? Dumont taunted.
The louse left her when the kid was still small.  He couldnt handle the thought of being tied to a wheel chair as long as the kid lived.
Yer right; a twenty-four carat louse.  Any decent man woulda killed the kid so the broad wouldnt be tied to the same wheel chair for the rest of her life.  He smiled, an eerie kind of smile with no mirth or humor in its dark depths.  Now, I could sort of trot on over there and take care of that little problem for her.  She might even be real grateful to me, you know what I mean?
Maybe this scum would buy Lanes invented health nurse.  What now?  Would he kill Lane and head for the imaginary nurses home?  How would he know where to go?  Would he search the rest of the house before leaving?  How much longer did Lane have to live?
You know what, deputy?  Its warm here, and Ive been powerful cold outside in the snow and wind.  I think Id just like to set here a spell and get warm.  Maybe get some food inside me.  You got anything to drink?  I could sure go for a tall, cold beer.  Its been ages.  Dumont chuckled showing nicotine-stained teeth and a chipped incisor.  Here I am telling you how cold it is outside and the first thing I want to drink is a cold beer, dont that beat all?
Yeah, Lane said, a real side-splitter.  Say, do you mind it I put my hands down now?  My arms are getting kind of tired and you do have the gun.
Yeah, I do, and dont you forget it.  If you got handcuffs around here, you can put your arms down and Ill cuffem behind your back.  I dont want to have no trouble with you, but I wont hesitate to kill you.  You know that, dont you?
Of course I do, Dumont.  Theres been an APB out on you for weeks.  Theyve even got a FBI task force working out of Reno while they search for you.  I wont give you any trouble.  The handcuffs are on my belt.  Right there.  Lane motioned with his chin.
Yeah, right, now wheres the key?  I dont want you slippin out of them if Im not looking.
The key is on my key ring, next to the phone.
Dumont motioned with the gun that Lane should back away from the chair while he reached for the handcuffs.  He pulled them from the leather holder and motioned Lane to turn around.  Do it slowly, and be careful.  Put your hands behind your back and lean forward, you know the way its done.  With the Browning centered on his spine, Lane had no choice.  He felt the cold steel of the bracelets as they snapped around his wrists and winced as Dumont fastened them extra tight.  He heard Dumont slide the key ring across the desk and assumed he had pocketed the keys.
Okay, you can turn around now.  Lets go into the kitchen, I need something to eat and well see what youve got in the refrigerator.  No sudden moves now, Im warning you.
Lane moved with caution as he squeezed passed the killer and into the kitchen.  He purposely walked to the far end of the kitchen table and eased a chair out with his foot so he could set down.  Sitting in this chair he would be facing the door into the hallway.  If Tutu or Connie tried sneaking down the stairs and Dumont were sitting across from him, Lane could see them and try and keep Dumont distracted.
*     *     *
To Tutu is seemed she had only dropped off to sleep a few moments earlier before Connie quietly entered her room and slipped over to the bed.  Connie lightly pressed her hand to Tutus lips as she whispered into her ear.
Tutu!  Wake up!  Shhh!  Theres someone in the house.  Your dad has gone downstairs to investigate.
At first Tutu was startled by the fingers pressed to her lips and the whispering in her ear.  As the fog of sleep began to fade she realized Connie was trying to tell her something important.  She shook her head to clear away the cobwebs.  Intruder!  Yes, she understood that.  Dad is down stairs; yes, she understood that.  She flipped back the covers and stepped gently to the floor, sliding her bare feet into a pair of pink bunny slippers, then quietly moved to her dresser where she knelt and opened the bottom drawer.  From under several folded pairs of corduroy slacks she withdrew a fleece lined naugahyde pouch and quietly unzipped its zipper.  Inside was her thirty-eight revolver.  Grabbing Connies hand she thrust the pistol into her palm and whispered, You keep an eye on the door.  Im going to call nine-one-one.
But your dad said it would take hours for help to reach us from Tonopah.  Why call them?
Because dad sometimes forgets that he isnt all alone in this neck of the woods.  Josiah Snow is dads weekend relief.  Hes probably pulled into the volunteer fire department where he can plug in a little electric heater to keep his cruiser warm while he grabs forty winks.  If we call Tonopah they can probably raise the Snowman on his radio.  Hes usually a pretty light sleeper.
Connie felt the unaccustomed weight of cold steel in her hand.  Tutu, youre more used to this gun than I am.  You take it and Ill call the police.
Tutu had already tried the phone next to her computer.  No dice.  The line is dead.  Could be the weather or it could be our intruder cut the line.  Im going to boot up the computer and e-mail them a request for help.  The computer has its own line, a microwave relay over the mountains the county put in for official traffic.  Tutu had the presence of mind to unplug the tiny transformer which powered the computers twin speakers before she flipped the line switch on her multiple outlet surge protector.  She certainly didnt want the sound effects of her computer loading Windows to alert whoever was down stairs.
The video monitor provided a soft glow in the room while Windows was loading.  She glanced at Connie, kneeling and holding the revolver with both hands as she pointed it at the bedroom door.  When the computer was ready she clicked on her Internet icon and waited for the opening screen.  As soon as it appeared she opened her address book and selected the Nye County Sheriffs Office in Tonopah.  She clicked on that and typed out a brief message.  She attached a certain sound effects file she had recorded one day on a whim, and then clicked send.  In a second a small window appeared confirming her message had been sent.
Okay, she whispered to Connie.  The message has been sent, what now?
I dont know, Tutu.  Your dad said to stay here and wait for him to come back.  He said he would call out when he came upstairs so we wouldnt shoot him by accident.
Im not going to shoot anybody, Connie.  Youre the adult; Im the kid.  You do the shooting, okay?  Thats the way they always do it in the movies.
But this isnt a movie, honey.  Im no movie heroine and there are no scriptwriters inventing dialog for me.  I dont know what to do but I guess we should wait like your dad said.
Im beginning to think its been quite a long time, Connie.  Have you heard anything?
No more than you have.  Maybe he went down to the basement to check on Northcutt?
Who?
Northcutt.  Hes the drunk who ran us off the road and practically killed us earlier tonight.  It was his car we came home in.  Your dad put him in the basement.  Could he have gotten out?  Is that who were hiding from?
Trust me, Connie, not even David Copperfield could get out of the cells down there.  The doors can only be activated by a keypad located twelve feet across the room, and you cant activate it unless you know dads password.
Then who? she left her question unasked.  She had a hunch she knew the answer and she didnt like it.  I think I ought to go down stairs, Tutu.  Your dad might be in trouble.
Well, if you go, Im not staying here alone.  Im going with you.
Lets be quiet.  Stay behind me.  She led the way to the door and opened it cautiously as if she expected to come face to face with Sigourney Weavers Alien.  The empty hallway was anti-climactic.  Connie felt she was over acting as she moved down the hallway with Tutus gun stiffly held in her outstretched arms.  She lowered her hands, almost to her waist, and gripped the pistol in her right hand while she felt along the wall with her left.
When they reached the top of the stairs Connie could see dim light in the living room.  It wasnt bright enough for one of the living room lights so she figured the light must be from Lanes office, or perhaps the kitchen, maybe both.  Slowly she placed her bare foot on the top step and started down the staircase.
*     *     *
Dumont found a plastic wrapped package of deli-sliced ham in the refrigerator.  He pulled it out along with a loaf of wheat bread and a jar of mayonnaise and set them on the kitchen table.  Who the hell eats wheat bread now days? he asked with disdain.  You some kind of health nut, Deputy Dawg?  Lane ignored him as he continued rummaging around and came out with half a bottle of Chablis he and Connie had been sharing a few nights earlier.
Well, looky, looky here.  Deputy Dawg is too high class to drink beer, but we got a little fancy wine to go with our sandwich.  Is that it, Deputy Dawg?  You got too much class to drink beer like the rest of us guys?  Maybe you got so much class that you dont even like girls, hunh?  Is that why you live here alone, Deputy Dawg?  When Lane didnt answer Dumont pulled a large Bowie knife from a sheath on his hip.  Lane almost laughed but managed to stifle it before he irritated this crazed killer.
When he had been on field maneuvers with the 82d Airborne Division, lots of guys carried Bowie knives.  Lane had always thought the practice was silly.  If you need a knife while bivouacked in the boonies, most likely you need a three or four inch knife to make a sandwich, or eat dinner with.  If you need to hack your way through jungle or woods, you need a machete.  A Bowie knife was for guys who imagined themselves as tough, macho hombres.  Not big enough for hacking a trail through the brush, and too big for making a sandwich.  Nonetheless, it was a helluva potent weapon for a fight, if the wielder were skilled enough to use it.  Few people were, and usually left themself open to an easy, one-handed disarm.  Lane recalled a knife was Dumonts weapon of choice and grudgingly admitted Dumont might be skilled in using a Bowie.  He certainly didnt want to find out while his hands were cuffed behind him.
Dumont set the Browning on the table and turned a chair around, straddling it as he sat down to build his sandwich.  First he used an inordinate amount of mayo on a slice of bread, covering that with a slice of ham, more mayo, more ham, and finally more mayo on the opposing slice of bread.  He laid the Bowie aside, but never far from reach.  When he pressed the last slice of bread down on top of the mess he had created, mayonnaise oozed out in globs upon the table.  He picked up his creation with both hands and crammed two huge bites into his mouth.  His mouth was smeared with mayonnaise on both sides and he wiped at it with the back of his hand.
Mmm, thats good.  You dont get real ham in the joint, bologna, most of the time, but sometimes salami.  And they sure do scrimp on the mayo.  Youd think the head screw had to pay for it out of his own paycheck.  I havent had a sandwich this good since well, hell, it plumb escapes me.  Musta been quite awhile I guess.  Not wanting to let go of his messy sandwich, Dumont stuck the bottle of chablis between his legs and worked the cork out.  He tilted it to his lips and took three or four swallows.
Tastes like piss, deputy.  Damn faggot water!  You sure you dont got no beer around here?
Lane thought quickly.  Maybe he could get Dumont out of the kitchen.  He might be able to get Dumont out onto the back porch to look for beer.  Even with his hands cuffed he could turn the latch on the dead bolt of the pantry door.  That would give him several seconds to get upstairs and have Connie unlock his cuffs with his spare key, then he could grab Tutus pistol  His hopes died when he saw the condition of the pantry door and he learned how Dumont had gained access to the house.  His big Bowie knife had made swift and silent work of the doorjamb where the striker plate for the dead bolt was attached.  Scratch that plan.
Damn!  Through the doorway behind Dumont Lane could see Connies feet, then her legs, as she crept down the stairs.  He had to keep Dumont distracted, keep his attention centered on himself no matter what it took!
Sorry, Dumont.  Im fresh out of beer.  I was putting on a little weight, perhaps you noticed.  At my last physical the doctor said Id better ease up on the drinking if I wanted to keep my weight down.  You know they can force you to lose weight, and if you dont they can fire you.  Double-damn, Tutus bunny slippers were coming down the stairs behind Connie!  Long pink ears quivered with each step while plastic eyes rolled, forcing Lane to stifle an involuntary laugh.
Its kind of like the Army that way, you know?  Youve heard the term: shape up or ship out?  Thats what they mean.  If you cant make the physical, youre out on your ear.  But the doc did say a small glass of wine before dinner would help to dull the appetite and even help to keep my blood pressure down, and every once in awhile, I do have a lady over for the evening, Dumont.  He stressed the word lady if only to irritate the man.  Nothing goes better with soft music and soft skin than a glass of smooth,  dry wine.
Lane heard that squeaky step near the bottom of the stairs and worried that Dumont may have heard it also.  He stomped both feet and pushed his chair noisily back from the table.  Dumont reacted swiftly, holding his sandwich in one hand and grabbing at the Browning with the other.
Dont get excited! Lane shouted at him.  Im just trying to work up a little circulation.  You fastened these cuffs pretty tight, you know?
Whats that to me? the killer asked.  I dont care if your hands turn black and fall off, Deputy Dawg.  You just sit tight there while I finish my sandwich.  He set the gun down once more as he continued talking, working his tongue around another bite of ham sandwich.  I might let you move into the front room and sit by the fire.  I saw you got a satellite dish on the roof when I was outside.  Maybe Ill kick my feet up and watch a couple of them sex-rated movies on HBO?  What do you think of that, Deputy Dawg?
Lane stared at the man with the twisted smile and crazed eyes.  Ill tell you what I think, Dumont.  I think youre one sick son of a bitch who gets his rocks of watching sex movies.  You probably flog your meat while youre watching.  An ugly asshole like you probably cant get lovin from a decent woman.  I saw the way you carved up Granny Titus, you sick pervert.  Is that the way you get your kicks?  Ive seen the wanted notices on you too!  Rape and murder, rape and murder; whats the matter, Dumont?  Dont you know how to love a woman?  Lane was practically shouting.  He knew Connie and Tutu were in the living room now and he didnt want to take a chance Dumont would hear the smallest sound and turn around to spot them.
Dumont picked up the Browning again and pointed it at him.  You talk real big for a man with his hands cuffed behind him and a nine millimeter aimed at his heart, Deputy.  I killed that old Indian cunt because I was cold and wet and she didnt have no clothes I could wear.  I killed that cunt because I was hungry and she didnt have nothing worth eating in that shack of hers.  I killed that cunt because she was old and useless and wasnt even worth a fuck!  Thats why I killed her!  And I enjoyed every minute of it too.
Did you see the way I cut off her nipples, Deputy Dawg?  Cut em right off and ate em I did.  Just a little snack, you understand.  You shoulda heard her scream when I ripped off her rags and tossed her on that filthy old mattress.  She screamed like the worst thing I might do was rape her.  I wouldnt have touched that old cunt with your dick, deputy.  But I sliced her good didnt I?
Then I sliced them tits until they hung down to her waist and I unh!
A shot sounded in the living room and the right side of Dumonts chest exploded with a fountain of blood.  He coughed and chewed meat traveled across the kitchen.  The bullet, after passing through Dumont, just missed Lane as it shattered the window over the sink behind him.
Dumont sat there a moment with a dumbfounded expression on his face while blood spread down his shirt.  He still held the sandwich in his right hand and he pressed it absently to the wound.  The heavy Browning sagged toward the floor and discharged before dropping from his fingers.  His mouth opened, spilling blood and half-chewed food onto his chest.  He toppled forward and lay with arms spread on the kitchen table, his body flattening the loaf of wheat bread and his outstretched arm knocked the mayonnaise and Bowie knife to the floor.  The glass jar broke with a hollow sounding thunk and crumpled into a greasy mess.
Lane collected his wits and moved around the table until he could kick the Browning beyond Dumonts reach.  Connie rushed in and threw her arms around him.
Oh, Lane, Im so sorry.  I had to shoot him.  I thought he was going to kill you.  And then when I heard him bragging about those awful things he did to Granny Titus; you didnt tell me she was dead.  Why?
Uh, could you put the gun down, Honey?  Youve got to be careful with it you know.
and I think youve got a patient, Doctor, Tutu said.  It looks like hes still breathing.
Connie dropped her arms and whirled around.  She felt for a carotid pulse and found one.  Quick, turn him over and put him on the table!  Tutu, get my bag.  Its next to the TV.
Youre not going to try and save him, are you? Tutu asked with incredulity.  Why?
Because Im a doctor and thats the only reason required.  She was already trying to turn Dumont over.  Lane was surprised to see how much strength his little woman had as she lifted the heavy man with the same arms that had been wrapped around him just moments before.
Connie, check his pockets.  I think he has the keys to my cuffs.  If you can get these off me, I can help you.
She found the keys in the first pocket she checked and tried to open Lanes cuffs but her hands were slippery and smeared with blood.  Tutu returned with Connies kit and took the keys from her.  I can do this; you wash your hands, Connie.
Connie went to the sink and ran water over her hands while she scrubbed the blood off.  She grabbed a towel and dried quickly.  Tutu had gotten the cuffs off her dad who was positioning Dumont so Connie could work on him.
With practiced ease Connie slipped on a pair of latex gloves from her bag.  She ripped open the mans shirt and found the exit wound.  God, this is awful big for such a small bullet, she said.  Its passed through the lung.  The most important thing to do now is slap something over the wound to prevent it from sucking air or hell drown in his own blood.  Lane, have you got some plastic wrap?
Lane thought a moment.  No, but Ive got some freezer bags.  Will that do?
Perfect, I think.
Land pulled open a drawer and started to hand the box to her then thought better of it and pulled out a baggie and put it in her hand.
Thanks, she said.  She slapped it over the wound and held it in place.  Tutu, theres a roll of two inch adhesive tape in my bag.  Cut me four strips eight or nine inches long and hand them to me one at a time.  Lane, put your hand here and press firmly while I stretch the plastic smooth and tape the edges.
Lane held the baggie in place while Tutu passed Connie strips of tape.  Quickly she taped the edges of the baggie.  She bent to the floor and picked up Dumonts Bowie knife.  Never thought Id be using one of these things, but all I want to do is cut his shirt off.  Then we have to turn him over so I can tape a baggie to the other side where the bullet went in.
Dumonts knife was razor sharp as she cut the shirt with swift strokes from the neck down to each cuff.  While Lane rolled her patient over she slid the shirt from the table and dropped it to the floor.  Lane got another baggie ready for her but she asked Tutu to hand her a pair of forceps so she could remove some threads from the wound before she taped it shut.  
After removing the threads she used the forceps to hold a gauze swatch while she soaked it in disinfectant and swabbed the wound.  In a few minutes they were done.
Weve got to roll him on his back again, Lane.  He may begin choking on his own blood and I might have to intubate him.  Theres a hundred other things I should be doing for him, but we dont have the equipment.  About all we can do is protect the wound and treat him for shock.  Tutu, will you bring me a couple blankets and a pillow?
Shouldnt we put him in one of the cells, Connie? Lane asked.
I dont think hes going to be hurting anyone in his condition, Lane.  Ill give him an antibiotic to reduce infection and morphine for the pain, but I need to keep him here where I can watch him.
Well, if you say so, but I dont like it.  This guy could still be dangerous, Connie?
Would you be happy if I let you put those cuffs on his ankles? she asked.
I guess it would be better than nothing.  He took the cuffs and slid the pants legs of Dumonts trousers high enough to get the bracelets around the mans ankles.  He still wished he could do something about the mans hands, a straight-jacket would have suited him fine.
Tutu brought a pillow from the sofa and two blankets from the basement.  Dad, youve got one really pissed prisoner down there.  And hes hungry too.
Im not surprised, Lane said.  But somehow I dont really care.  Itll be awhile before he gets his breakfast, its not my fault he drank his dinner last night instead of eating.
Tutu, Connie asked.  Do you suppose you could e-mail the sheriffs station and get them to send a helicopter ambulance for the prisoner?  He really needs to be in an emergency room as soon as possible.
Tutu looked at her dad.  He shrugged and waved her away with a flip of his hand.
You dont look as though you approve, Lane.  Connie had done all she could for her patient so now she busied herself at the coffee maker.  She put in a clean filter and measured in the coffee grounds.
I know its your job to keep this maniac alive, Connie.  And I know its my duty to see that hes properly locked up and turned over for trial.  Its just that sometimes I cant see why we go to so much trouble to make sure some guilty bastard like this gets a fair trial before we execute him.
If you cant answer that one for yourself, Lane, then maybe you dont have any business being a deputy.  She slid the coffee holder into the machine and filled the pot with cold water.
Youre right, Connie.  Nobody appointed me judge, jury, and executioner, but it would certainly save the taxpayers a large chunk of change.
She poured the water into the machine, set the pot on the warming plate and flipped the switch to on.  Would you want that responsibility, Lane.
Of course not!  But sometimes it gets a man to wondering.
Thats why youre going to keep on doing your job, Lane.  There are a lot of guys who wouldnt care about Dumont.  Especially if what he said about Granny Titus is true.  But thats not why I shot him.  I shot him because I truly thought he was about to shoot you, Lane.  Im certain he would have killed you before he left this house.  So youll go on catching the bad guys as long as youre able, and when I have to, Ill keep patching them up until we can let the law do the job it has to do so we can all hope we still live in a civilized society.
Amen to that, Lane said.
Amen to what? Tutu asked as she returned from upstairs.
To civilized society, Connie chuckled.  Did you get a response from the sheriffs office.
Sure did.  The air ambulance from Tonopah will be here in about forty minutes.  Theyll fly this guy down to Vegas because there are better facilities there.
Good, Connie said.  So all we have to do is keep this guy alive for forty minutes and then hell be out of our hands.  Im glad of that.
Uh, dad?  I think you better get dressed.  Headquarters still cant raise the Snowman.  Youll have to go over to the fire house and wake him.
See, Connie?  No rest for the weary.  The more you do in this job, the more they expect you to do.
Go on, she said.  By the time you get back the coffee will be ready.  Im sure you and Josiah can both use some.
Lane put on his weapon and leather and gathered up his parka.  It was only three blocks to the Volunteer Fire Department and he was there after a short walk.  The Snowman was sitting behind the wheel of his cruiser; his head back and his mouth wide open as he snored.  Sitting on the floor of the cruiser on the passenger side was a small metallic cube, a ceramic heater, with its cord snaked out through the window and plugged in to the wall.
Lane rapped his knuckles against the drivers side glass.  When there was no response he rapped again, harder.  Josiah woke suddenly and glanced around to take in his situation.
Oh, its you, Lane.  Man you sure cut me off in the middle of what must have been the worlds hottest wet dream.  Im gonna be mad at you for at least a month.  I promise.
Does Shandra know what you dream about, Snowman?
Does she know?  Man, Shandra was the dream.  Thats why Im so pissed at you.  So whats shakin?
We caught Dumont.  Broke into my house a short while back.  Connie had to shoot him.  Hes spread out on my kitchen table right now where she patched him up, and the Lifeflight helicopter is on its way to take him off our hands.  I need you to drive up to the vacant field behind my place and use your lights and radio to guide him in.
Sure nuff, Lane.  How about unpluggin my heater and jumping in?  Ill drop you off at home.
Lane walked around the blue and white cruiser and pulled the plug on the electric heater then opened the car door and got in.  He pushed the heater aside with his foot and unzipped his parka.  The car was almost unpleasantly warm.
When Josiah pulled up in front of Lanes home, Lane invited him in.  We can at least put a cup of hot coffee in your hand before you have to take your post.  Connie said shed have some fresh made by the time I got home.
I could sure go for that, he said as he got out of the cruiser.  Hey, whered you get the Jeep? he asked when he noticed Northcutts vehicle.
Belongs to a guest of the county locked in my basement.
Sounds like youve had a busy day, Josiah commented.
That was yesterday.  Today I hope will be much quieter.  Lane and Josiah topped the steps and Lane opened the front door for his partner.  The aroma of fresh coffee greeted them as soon as the door was open and they both headed straight for the kitchen.
The Snowman saw the patient on the kitchen table and noted the wound.  Too bad, Doc, a few inches to the left and you could have saved the county a pretty expensive trial.  But I understand youre just learning how to shoot.
Connie was leaning against the sink as she sipped a cup of coffee.  I hope thats the first and only time Ill ever have to shoot a man.  I wouldnt have done it then except I thought he was going to kill Lane.  He was pointing a gun at him.
Josiah looked around the room.  What gun?
Lane looked embarrassed and answered, Mine, the one in my holster.  He got it while I was sleeping upstairs.  I awoke when I heard a noise and when I came down to check he got the drop on me.  I was in handcuffs when Connie shot him.
Okay, your secrets safe with me.  You said something about coffee?
Lane took two mugs from the cupboard to the left of the sink and poured for Josiah and himself.  Josiah thanked him as he handed a steaming cup to him.
So thats the infamous Richard Dumont.  He dont look so dangerous now, does he?
Hes an animal, Connie said. He killed Granny Titus tonight.  We were out at her place earlier.  He used his knife and butchered her.
Whyd you go out there? Josiah asked.
We found out whats been causing all these violent deaths.  At least we think we have.  That Paiute potpourri Granny Titus sells seems to contain some weird kind of drug.  Connie has identified it at each crime scene, and tox scans show traces in the blood of all the victims.
Is that right, Doc?
Connie nodded.  As near as we can figure, its a plant species related to lophophora williamsii, you know it as peyote.  Science has identified as many as fifty-six alkaloid compounds contained in the cactus, the most potent of which is mescaline.  Im sure you know peyote can lead to violent seizures among people who use it regularly.
Yesm.  Were given a rudimentary knowledge of most street drugs in training.  But, I thought peyote was native to New Mexico and Texas.  Where would Granny Titus collect some?
Thats what we need to find out.  Were not positive it is peyote, particularly because it is so much more concentrated and its effects are so homicidal.  Unfortunately, the one person who can answer those questions is dead.
Maybe those Army scientists can help you?  They went back to Tonopah before the heaviest part of the storm hit this evening.  If theyre  back tomorrow, maybe you can ask them.
Lane said, Ill send a message to headquarters and have the sheriff make a point of asking them to see me.  Perhaps they can be of some help.
Well, I better get my butt up the hill if Im going to get a chopper to put down here.  You want me to send a medic down here with a stretcher?
Yeah, Snowman.  Show him the way through the fence so he doesnt have to go around to the front of the house.  And, you can help him carry the stretcher back to the helicopter.
Youre too good to me, Lane.  Thanks for the coffee, he said with a smile to Connie.  He left the room and a moment later they heard him going out the front door.
I knew it was awful quiet around here, Lane said.  Wheres Tutu?
Upstairs, on her computer, shes e-mailing an account of this whole adventure to that Demming woman.  Remember?  The TV reporter from Las Vegas, the one with the big Connie pantomimed a womans figure with exaggerated curves.
Oh, that one.  What does she want to e-mail her the story for?  A TV reporter doesnt use print.  If they havent got video they havent got a story.
Evidently Tutu ran into the TV crew a few days ago down at Arts Exxon.  They struck up a conversation and Tutu mentioned she might like to major in journalism when she goes to college.  Miss Demming said if she ever had a story to shoot it to her, her words, not mine, and shed try and help Tutu.
Tutu could be heard coming down the stairs two and three at a time.  Hey, hey!  Look what Ive got.  She waved a sheet of paper at them.  Pam Demming forwarded my e-mail to a senior editor on the night desk at the Sun.  He said if I allowed him to edit the story hed run it and pay me a stringers rate.  Isnt that fantastic?  My story is going to be in the paper!
Congratulations, Connie said, another Brenda Starr!
Whos that? Tutu asked.
Dont worry, her father told her.  She was way before your time.  So youre headed for a career in journalism now?  Does that mean we have to start calling you Scoop Mauler?
Oh, daddy, Tutu said with a blush.  Its only one story, and I just happened to be here to report it.  Ill probably never be this lucky again.
But its a start.  A career in journalism would look glamorous and exciting to a lot of young girls, Connie said.
And so would a career in medicine, like you, Connie.  Im still at an age where I dont have to make a decision one way or the other, yet.  Anyway, Ive got another year and a half of high school to finish, and then I think Ill join the Army like my dad.
Lanes jaw dropped.  You never said anything about that before, Tutu.
Well, its about time I started thinking about my future, dad.  The way I see it, a girl my age isnt truly ready for college at seventeen.  There are too many opportunities to party and slough off on cracking the books.  If I join the Army, Ill have three years to gain in maturity and Ill learn the value of good study habits and self-motivation too.  Of course, the Armys college bonus program isnt half bad either.  That way I wouldnt need to work a couple part time jobs to support myself and try to keep up my grades at the same time.
But, you know Ill always be there to help, Tutu.  Granted, Im not worth a fortune, but a couple hundred a month wont break me.  With your grades, youre a cinch to pick up a scholarship too.
Dad, I love you.  But sometimes youre pretty slow on the uptake, you know?  She gave him a steady glare that left him without a clue.  Dad, Connies not going to hang around here forever waiting for you to ask her to get married and move in with you.  You two are crazy about each other, and if one of you doesnt make a move, you just might let the other one slip away.  So, as soon as I finish high school, Im outta here and youll have to beg Connie to fix your breakfast, pay your bills, keep the house straight and do the grocery shopping.
Lane looked long and hard at Connie.  Are you two women ganging up on me about this? he asked.
She never said a thing to me, Connie said, proclaiming her innocence.  Besides, I have way too much work to take on a full time relationship.  Her features mellowed and her voice became more subdued.  I just wouldnt be able to devote the time needed to a serious relationship.
What time, Connie?  Youre here in town three or four days a week doing your job, Tutu said.  Youre supposed to be specializing in rural health medicine anyway.  Why do you want to spend more time than necessary in Tonopah, carving up dead bodies?  And dads got this big house, courtesy of the county, you know Id love to have you here.  Even if I have to go back to being dads number two girl, itd be worth it to me.
Lane had been watching his daughter as she made her speech.  A lot of what she said made sense.  He felt ready to develop a relationship with another woman, especially a woman like Connie.  In the last four or five months he had come to value her company, her warmth, her intelligence, and her laughter a lot more than he realized.
He moved toward her and took her in his arms while unobtrusively waving Tutu off to another room.  Tutu got the message and made herself scarce.
You know, what Tutu said has a lot of merit, Connie, but, Id like you to move in with me not for the sensible and practical reasons she gave.  He cupped her chin in the fingers of his right hand and tilted her face up until he could look deep into her eyes.  He reveled in the sensation of her body melting and the curves seeming to flow into contact with his body.
Id like you to move in, Connie, just because I love you.  If youll let me, Ill do everything I can to make you happy.
Connie stared back at him; her eyes trying to plumb the depths of his soul to divine the true meaning behind his words.  Did she love him enough to risk making a commitment to him and his daughter?  A commitment like that would surely detract from her work, work that was tremendously important to her.
Or did she truly value her career more than her relationship with this man, and her friendship and attachment to his daughter?
For a heart stopping moment Lane was afraid hed pushed Connie too hard and too quickly.  Hed only been dreaming while imagining a woman this educated and self-assured could ever need anything he had to offer.
She put her cheek next to his and Lane felt sure he could feel hot tears searing his skin.  Hed blown it for sure!  Hed be lucky if she ever saw him again, other than professionally.
At last she spoke.  Lane?  When we get this situation all sorted out, when Dumont is out of this house, and when the Army has explained to us what has been going on for these past few months when all that is behind us, will you take me to Las Vegas for a week or so?  I think we could both use a little time to ourselves.  If you still feel the way you do now, perhaps we could stop at one of those little wedding chapels.  Nothing big or fancy, you know, but Id like you to know that Im serious about making a commitment to both you and Tutu.
Does that mean Lane almost choked on the words, does that mean youll marry me?
Connie pushed him away and held him at arms length while she scolded him.  Well you certainly have a strange way of proposing to a girl, Lane Mauler, but I wont let that stop me.  I accept!  She kissed him with more fervor and passion than she had ever shown him before.  Suddenly he wondered if maybe she wasnt the one who feared he wouldnt want to take an old maid of thirty-two years for his wife?  He began to wonder if maybe he missed something in the translation.  Did he propose to her?
Who cared?  Shed accepted and he was happy she did.  He hugged her tightly and did his best to kiss her back.
Tutu had evidently been listening just beyond the door in the living room.  She came in and put her arms around both of them.  Well, all right!  Whens the wedding gonna be folks?  Can I be your brides maid, Connie?  Huh, can I?
Connie put an arm around Tutu and kissed her lightly on the forehead.  Of course you can, Tutu, and when we do this thing, youre going to help me get dressed for the wedding too.  Oh, and well put you in a lovely sky blue silk with a bouquet of Babys Breath
You cheated! Tutu playfully accused her.  How did you know my favorite color?
Lane began to feel as though he were being ignored in this little family tableau.  Hey, you guys, am I going to be invited to this wedding too?
Only if you promise to behave, Tutu said.  And even if you promise, you wont, but we love you, so I guess that means youre invited also.
Lane shook his head in confusion while he tried to unscramble what hed just heard.  Had he been insulted?
The whup-whup-whup of a helicopters rotor grew louder until the old wooden house began vibrating furiously.  Evidently the wind was from the west tonight and Josiah was bringing the chopper in just above the roof.
Okay, both of you.  Clear the hell out of the kitchen, will you?  Go be female some place else.  Josiah will be bringing in the stretcher any moment.  Now, scoot!
Just ignore him, Connie.  All men need to have their way once in awhile and constantly complain we women are always underfoot.  Dont feed him too much red meat; fish or fowl is better.  And, if you wait until hes had his second cup of coffee in the morning he wont care if youve dented the fender of the car.  They giggled like the conspirators he suspected they were and headed for the front room.
Lane went through the pantry and turned on the light for the back porch.  Up the slope he could see the running lights of the helicopter and the revolving red anti-collision beacon on the underside.  Any moment the Snowman would be approaching with the MedTech and a stretcher.
They came through the gate Lane had installed when he thought he and Tutu might want to lead horses in and out some day.  Josiah led the way and brought them up the steps into the kitchen where Dumont still lay on the table.  While Lane and Josiah lifted the body and the MedTech slipped a litter underneath, Tutu came in.  Standing behind Josiah she slipped her arms around him and squealed in his ear.  Snowman!  Did you here the news?  Connie and Dad are gonna get married and Im gonna be the brides maid.
Snowman struggled to keep from dropping his share of the load.  S great, Tutu, but can you let me go a moment?  I dont want to drop this patient.
She pulled away quickly.  Oh, sorry!  I wasnt thinking, she apologized.
Lane and Josiah got their patient properly positioned and began strapping him down as the MedTech studied the tag Connie had put on Dumont noting the time and amount of each medication.  The Snowman looked up at Lane with a questioning glance.  In the midst of all this, you found time to propose to the Doc?
Umm, yes, I guess.  Somehow it just happened.  You and Shandra are invited to the wedding, of course.
Man, if this is the way you propose, I wouldnt miss your wedding for six months paid vacation.  He finished buckling Dumont to the stretcher and asked the MedTech, Are we ready here, Morton?
Lets take him away, Snowman.  Hes lost quite a bit of blood and we better get him to the chopper so I can give him some plasma.  Well have him in Vegas pronto.  Right, now one, two, three; lift!  Together they lifted their burden while Lane led the way, to hold door to the back porch.  They went through the gate and up the slope to where the chopper was waiting.
Lane stood aside while they slid the stretcher into the open clamshell doors at the rear of the aircraft.  The MedTech jumped inside and checked to make sure the stretcher was firmly clamped into the floor-dogs then slipped on a helmet and spoke with the pilot.  Just as Lane and Josiah were closing the clamshell doors, Lane saw him begin an IV and then the pilot increased rotor speed and pitch; the two deputies moved away from the helicopter as it lifted off the ground and turned into the wind.  Soon it was gone and the two men could make themselves heard in a normal tone of voice.
Josiah clapped Lane on the back.  Well, congratulations you sly dog, youre getting one hell of a woman, you know?  Howd you manage it?
The damnedest thing, Snowman, I think the asked me.  Or maybe she accepted and then I asked her.  Hell if I can figure it out, but Im happy anyway.
Whens the wedding? he said as the two men headed for his cruiser.  They both slid into the front seat and Josiah drove them out to the street and around the corner to park in front of Lanes home.
I havent the foggiest.  Connie mentioned something about when all this mess got settled.  Were pretty sure we found the cause of those too frequent outbreaks of violence and the reason behind the killings, but before we could confirm anything Dumont killed our only source of information, Granny Titus.
Oh, damn!  That sweet old lady?  I used to see her around Arts Exxon once in awhile.  Never thought shed hurt a flea.
We dont think she did, not intentionally.  But, its possible she got some peyote or a similar plant mixed into her potpourri and thats what drove everybody crazy.
Josiah Snow checked his watch.  Hot damn!  Look at the time, will you?  Its nearly two in the morning and my shift was over at two.  I better get on the road and make tracks for home.  He turned and was nearly out of the kitchen when he leaned back in and waved to Connie.  Thanks for the coffee, Doc.  I hope you and Lane will be very happy.  You can count on Shandra and I making it to the wedding, too.  Gotta run now.  Just wait until I tell Shandra.  He waved again and left.
Lane called after him, Dont forget to have those Army people down here first thing in the morning, will you?
Although they couldnt see him, his voice carried into the kitchen.  Ill leave a note for Noah Denton!  The last they heard was the front door closing behind him.
Alone, at last, Lane told Connie.  And all I want to do now is go upstairs and put my head down for the next few hours."
Me, too, she said.  Want to flip for first crack at the bathroom?
Nah, you go on ahead.  I should see if I can repair our phone line, then Ill lock up and turn off the lights and use the john under the stairs.  As soon as she left the kitchen Lane checked the broken hasp on the back door and figured that putting a chair under the doorknob would be sufficient for the moment.  Tomorrow would be soon enough to repair the doorjamb and lock.
He took a flashlight outside and found where Dumont had cut the phone line.  A makeshift repair took only a few moments and he went inside and tested the phone to see if it was working.  When he got a dial tone, he was satisfied.
After locking the front door he killed the lights and went up stairs.  He found Connie fast asleep so he hung up his clothes and slid in beside her.  Sharing his bed with her was something he found uncommonly pleasant.



Chapter 16

Bright sunlight streaming through the bedroom window woke him.  He didnt move for several moments until the fog cleared from his still drowsy mind and he noticed the clock on his nightstand.  Eight-thirty!  He should have been up long ago.
Connie wasnt in bed and the aroma of breakfast wafting up through the ventilators told him she was probably down in the kitchen.  Quickly he pulled on his clothes and went to the bathroom where he got rid of several cups of used coffee.  He ran cold water into the sink and splashed his face.  The shock of it brought him fully awake.  He decided he could eat breakfast before shaving, so he toweled dry and went downstairs.
Connie was at the stove making pancakes and humming happily.  He saw bacon draining on a plate covered with paper towels.  Deciding to snitch a piece he slipped up behind her and planted a kiss on the right side of her neck and snagged a piece with his left hand while she was distracted.  Morning, Hon, she said.  You better go to the basement and check on your prisoner.  Hes been making such a racket I thought youd have been up long ago.
Lane munched on his bacon and mumbled around it.  He can damn well wait until Ive had my breakfast, then Ill see to him.
My, arent we grumpy this morning?
Not grumpy, I just dont want to be disturbed while Im admiring the most gorgeous backside in this galaxy.
Liar!  I know Im five pounds overweight and all of it is in my backside.  Wish I could distribute it up top where I could use a few extra inches.
Lane reached his arms around her until he was cupping a breast in each hand.  You seem just about right to me, maam.
She gasped in surprise and slapped at his leg with the spatula she held.  Cut that out, Lane.  Tutu might come down and see.  Go check on Mr. Whats-his-name, Ill still be here when you get back.  And you can tell him his breakfast will be down shortly.
Lucky guy! Lane remarked.  Whatever happened to the good old days of bread and water?  He headed for the basement where he could already hear the prisoner hollering.
When he opened the basement door he found Northcutt standing and holding onto the cell bars.  Well, its about time somebody checked to see what was going on.  Am I in jail?  On what charge?  When do I get to call a lawyer?  When do we get something to eat around here?
Ill answer your questions one at a time Mr. Northcutt.  Yes, you are in jail.  At the moment, there is no charge.  I brought you in last evening when you ran your car into a ditch.  You appeared highly intoxicated so I locked you up under civil protective custody.  You can call a lawyer anytime you like.  As to eating, is now too soon?  My fianc will have your breakfast ready in a few minutes.
Northcutt may have been ready to sue the pants off of everyone he could think of but he had second thoughts and grew calm.  Sorry if I sort of jumped down your throat, sheriff..."
Its deputy, Mauler, Lane Mauler.  Is it safe for me to let you out of that cell?
Would you please? the man answered.  Ive got to piss so bad my teeth are floating.  Ill behave myself, honest.
His contrite expression satisfied Lane and he turned to the keypad and punched OPEN #1 then entered his password when prompted.  There was a buzzing and the door swung open.  True to his word, Northcutt headed for the john and emptied his bladder of what seemed like a six-pack of beer.  Lane considered himself lucky the bed in the cell hadnt fallen victim to an unfortunate accident.  When he finished, Northcutt washed his hands in the basin and wiped on a couple paper towels.  He turned to Lane.
Did I wreck the Jeep?
I dont think its hurt bad.  We drove you home in it last night.  But Im sure the county will expect you to make restitution for the damage done to my vehicle when you forced us off the road.
Come upstairs with me and Ill return your wallet and other valuables.  They clumped upstairs into Lanes office where he took out the envelope with Northcutts things and gave it to him.
You better check the inventory.  Then you need to sign this receipt.  And, the county has a nine dollar charge for bed and meals.
But I havent eaten anything yet, Northcutt said as he opened the envelope and checked the contents against the inventory written on the back.  Okay, I guess everythings here.  I didnt give you too much trouble did I?  If I did, Im awful sorry.
No trouble at all.  You were passed out when we found you and we simply put you to bed, for your own protection.  You realize, dont you, I found you with open containers in the vehicle.  That, by itself, is a serious charge.  But I didnt want to take the time or fill out the paperwork required to charge you with driving under the influence, I was pretty busy with other events last night, so I elected to lock you up under the Nevada provisions we call civil protective custody.  I have a witness, so I dont think Ill have any trouble clearing myself if you elect to bring charges.
Oh, no charges, deputy, no charges.  I guess I should thank my lucky stars that I didnt kill myself.  And thank you too.
Dont mention it, Lane said.  Just remember, driving on icy roads is a tough job as it is.  Drinking and driving doesnt make it any easier.
Ill be more careful in the future, deputy.
I should hope so.  Now, lets go into the kitchen and get something to eat.  Id recommend a good cup of coffee also.
In the kitchen Connie had set four plates with silverware and a clean tablecloth on the kitchen table.  Very fancy, Lane commented.  I like it.
Just dont get used to it, cowboy.  The table was pretty messy after last night, and it didnt want to come very clean when I washed it.  The table cloth is camouflage.
Oh, sorry I asked.
Dont worry, why dont you and your guest have a seat and you can dig right in.  Tutu hasnt come down yet so I imagine shes sleeping late today.
Oh, Im sorry, honey, this is Mr. Dale Northcutt.  Mr. Northcutt, my fianc, Dr. Connie Conried.
Northcutt stepped past Lane in order to shake Connies hand.  Very pleased to meet you, doctor.  I understand I gave you all some trouble last night.  Please dont hold it against me.
All is forgiven, Mr. Northcutt.  We were a little busy ourselves last night.  Wont you sit down?  She pointed him to a chair.  After he had settled himself she asked, How many pancakes do you think you can eat this morning?
Could I start with three?  Im not usually big on breakfast, but Im pretty hungry today.
How about you? she asked Lane.
At least six for starters, Im still a growing boy.
Connie served them with four slices of bacon each.  She put two on a plate and sat down with them.  Just then Tutu came into the room.
Just as I was getting ready to finish your share, daughter, Lane said.  Why dont you set that coffee pot over here before you sit down?
I put three pancakes in the oven to keep warm for you, Connie told her.
Tutu took a potholder from a drawer and put the pot on top as she set it on the table.  Then she opened the oven and took out the plate Connie had set aside.  When she sat down her father introduced their breakfast guest.
Mr. Northcutt, this is my daughter, Cheryl Ann.  We generally refer to her as Tutu.
Good morning, Tutu.  How are you this morning?
Fine, thank you.  Just a little sleepy, I think.  We were up quite late last night.
So Ive heard people mention.  What was all the excitement, if you dont mind my asking?
Have you read about that escaped killer from Idaho? Tutu asked.  My dad caught him.  But Connie had to shoot him.  A good thing for him shes also a doctor.  She kept him alive until the LifeFlight helicopter could get here to take him to Las Vegas.  I wrote up the story and its going to be in the paper, she finished with a smirk.
Well, it sounds like you did have a little excitement.  And youre going to be in the paper too?  Congratulations.
Dont praise her too much, Mr. Northcutt, or Ill have to buy her some new hats, Lane said.
Miss or should I call you doctor?  These pancakes are wonderful.  Thank you.  And the coffee is excellent too.  I want to thank you very much for everything.
The doorbell rang and Tutu left the table.  She was back in a few seconds.  Dad, its the FBI and those Army people also.  She sat down while Northcutt looked pale.
Ill take them into the living room, Lane said as he wolfed the last bites of his pancakes.  Dont worry, Mr. Northcutt, they arent here for you.  He left the table.
Thank goodness, Northcutt said.  I dont usually drink and drive, he said to Connie and Tutu, and, you can be darn sure I wont do it again.  Im sure glad your dad didnt lock me up for driving under the influence, he told Tutu.  I have two teen-age boys who will be driving soon.  It would be a very bad example for them.
In the living room Lane met Special Agents Sandusky and Gallegos.  He filled them in on the shooting and capture of Dumont and they asked about the murder of Granny Titus.  He answered their questions and gave them directions to the old ladys shack warning them not to disturb possible evidence, and reminded them her murder didnt fall under FBI jurisdiction.  After they left he spoke with Major Bricker, Dr. Fresno and Dr. Enderman.
Wed appreciate any assistance you can give us in learning about the herbs Granny Titus put in her potpourri.  Dr. Conrieds tests indicate something related to mescaline only much more powerful.
Yes, Dr. Fresno replied.  Weve analyzed some of her specimens and found that the narcotic levels go off the chart.  But, there still isnt any connection with the work we do at TECBAD.  Primarily, our job is to find ways to protect our military forces should they come under attack by chemical agents while in combat.
I know a little about your work from my boss, Noah Denton.  From my own time in the Army, I know that you guys, excuse me Dr. Enderman, you people have to experiment with a lot of possible agents in order to accomplish your mission.  My concern is that some of those agents might have somehow gotten away from your lab.
Impossible, Major Bricker interjected.  No one would dare try and smuggle anything out.  There is no street value for the drugs or chemicals we work with.
Im not talking about someone selling your stuff on the streets, Major Bricker.  Its always possible someone could try to make some easy money by selling a sample of some of your material to a foreign power.  Or terrorists, perhaps?
Thats the wildest sort of speculation, the major said.  Nevertheless, its my duty to check these things out and Ill run a very thorough investigation.
Thats all we can ask, major.  Im not accusing anyone, Im simply trying to find out what apparently drove a lot of otherwise normal people crazy here, tragically resulting in multiple deaths.
Of course, of course, Dr. Fresno cut in, trying to ease the tension between Lane and the major.  There wont be any cover-up here deputy.  Still, you must realize that you wont be informed of any thing we find out.  This is all highly classified, of course, in the interest of national security.
Of course, Lane said wryly.
In that case, deputy, well find our way to the residence of this Titus woman and start our investigation there.  If she did gather some kind of herbs, or plants, which caused all this, I suspect thats where well find them.  At least those she gathered.  After that its simply a matter of identifying them and sending out personnel to gather up all we can find.
You make everything sound simple, doctor.  Alright, I guess you heard the directions I gave to the FBI.  I hope you also heard what I said about messing up the scene of a crime not yet investigated by the Nye County Sheriffs Office.  Please keep that in mind.
We will, deputy, we will.  The three of them rose and Lane showed them to the front door and watched while they drove away.  Northcutt was just coming out of the kitchen when Lane turned away from the front door.
Excuse me, deputy.  You said something about a fee for my staying the night as your guest?  Id like to pay that now and be on my way if its all right with you.
Okay, Mr. Northcutt.  Step into my office, wont you?
After Lane changed a twenty-dollar bill and gave Northcutt a receipt, he showed him the way out also.  It had certainly been a busy morning.  He still had to make arrangements to get his cruiser retrieved from where it had run off the road and flipped in the snow.  Not to mention getting his phone line repaired by a competent technician.
He went back to the kitchen and sat down at the table while pouring himself a second cup of coffee.
What now, dear? Connie asked him.
Not a thing, Connie, not a damn thing.  All the company is out of the house and I was just thinking what a beautiful day it has turned out to be.  Im off for the day and the Snowman will be back to do battle with the forces of evil in Valley Forks while I spend the rest of the day with my two favorite girls.  He grabbed Connie and Tutu each by the hand and smiled.
Do you suppose I could have about four more of those pancakes and a couple more strips of bacon?  Tutu has been feeding me nothing but health food junk and Ive been dying for some good home cooking.



Epilogue

On an afternoon in late August, Deputy Lane Mauler, his still new wife, Connie, and Cheryl Ann, were riding along a mountain trail in the Toquima Range west of the small community of Valley Forks.  Mrs. Mauler rode a steady four-year-old mare.  Cheryl Ann sat astride a three-year-old gelding.  Cheryl Ann, who was on the verge of giving up the nickname Tutu now that she was rapidly maturing, rode her horse in short bursts up and down the slopes and to both sides of the trail.  The horse was young, only two years ago he had been a free ranging mustang, and both he and rider had a yearning to explore, run, and gallop.
Plodding along behind, bringing up the rear at a more sedate pace, Lane Mauler rode just behind his wife.  He was both proud and content in his enjoyment at being outdoors with his family.  Cheryl would not be returning to the class room in Valley Forks this fall.  In three more weeks she would leave for Vermont where she would begin her first year at The Iroquois Academy, a college preparatory school for young gentlemen and ladies.  While her father had been willing to see her go into the service for three years and then going on to college with her GI benefits, the new Mrs. Mauler would not hear of such a thing.
Connie, Lane and Tutu found out after the March wedding, was quite an independent woman, financially.  Her wealthy father had set up a substantial trust fund for her before he died in a hotel fire in Central America where he had been negotiating real estate ventures on behalf of the New England Heritage Bank and Trust where he had been a senior partner.  Connie had been in medical school when he died and because it was finals week of her third year, she had not even attended the funeral, choosing instead to pay her respects weeks later when she wasnt up to her neck in exams.  Her mother had waited a respectable six months before she traveled to Europe where she took up with an Italian skier who showed promise of making his countrys Olympic team one day.  Connie didnt miss her, they had never been really close and that was something she intended to change in her relationship with Cheryl Ann.
At Connies insistence, and with the promise of a new four-wheel drive Lincoln Navigator as a going away present, Cheryl Ann agreed to attend the eastern school at the end of the school year, and Connie would use some family contacts to win her an appointment to West Point, providing her grades were up to snuff.  Lane was allowed to participate in the discussions leading up to this decision, but Connie permitted it only so long as he remained on his best behavior.  Occasionally he still brought up the subject.
I still dont see why she has to have such an expensive car, Connie.
Lane, darling, Tutu will be mingling with children of the finest families from all over the country.  We dont want her to feel embarrassed in front of them.  Nor do we want them to hold her in low esteem simply because shes from out west.  Some easterners actually think of the Catskill Mountains as the end of civilization.
I understand what youre saying, Connie, but I dont want her to pick up a lot of high society nonsense thinking were all hicks out here in the sticks.
Dont worry about Tutu, dear.  Youre done a much better job of raising her than you give yourself credit for.  At her age, she wont acquire any upper crust prejudices.  She already knows what real family values are and which ones are important.  You wouldnt say The Iroquois Academy gave me any snobbish notions, would you?
No fooling?  You went there too?
I guess I never mentioned it, but yes, I did.  And since I had been brought up among eastern blue-bloods, it took quite some doing for me to unlearn some of my attitudes, but I managed.
Ah, yes, but you can manage most anything you set your mind to.
Flattery will get you anywhere, love, but criticism will get you a night in the shed with the horses, she quipped.
We wouldnt mind, would we Sophocles? he said as he stroked his mules neck.  Were not too stuck up to spend the night with a couple lowly horses, even if weve a right to be.
Connie laughed at his teasing.  It was one of the things she enjoyed about him.  Hey, look! she said pointing down the slope to the vacant field behind their house.  It looks as though were being invaded by the Army again.
Lane glanced back just in time to see the twin rotor CH-47 as it touched down on the parched summer grass.  Sure enough.  Why dont we go see what theyre up to?  Hey, Tutu! he yelled at his daughter.  The teen-ager had been exploring a side trail two hundred yards ahead of Lane and Connie.  When she saw the chopper, she turned and galloped in their direction.  Now she was racing along with her long blonde curls flying, as was her horses tail.
Race you, dad! she shouted as she passed them at a run.
Take it easy and watch your horses footing, he called after her.  If you want to join the procession, Connie, Ill bring up the rear.  If you dont mind, Sophocles and I arent in as much of a hurry as Tutu.
I think Ill take it easy also, Lane.  If the Army came all the way up here to talk with us, they wont leave before we get there.
It took most of half an hour, wending their way down the mountain trail, before they arrived in the open field where the helicopter had landed.  By the time they arrived the rotors had stopped and the twin engines were shut down.  Thank goodness, Lane thought.  All that noise would probably frighten the animals into breaking and running.
He pulled his mule to a stop twenty yards from the aircraft and dismounted then helped Connie as she swung down.  Tutu came around from the other side of the big helicopter leading her gelding.  Major Bricker and Dr. Fresno were with her.  The three walked to where Lane and Connie were standing and Dr. Fresno stuck out his hand, which Lane grasped firmly.  Nice to see you again, Deputy, you too, maam.  I understand congratulations are in order for you both...
Just me, Lane said.  Im the lucky one.  You might offer your commiseration to Mrs. Mauler.
Oh, Lane!  Youre the biggest tease.  Honestly, Dr. Fresno, Ive never been happier.  What brings you and the Major up here today?
Well, you probably know, Major Bricker said, after analyzing the plant samples from the Indian womans home, we identified a hybrid species of peyote.  Using our computer resources we linked it to archeological finds along the Mesa Verde in New Mexico.  Thats where the Anasazi tribes were once prominent.
Peyote grows wild, mainly in New Mexico and regions of Texas, but this particular variety has been unknown for more than four hundred years.  Once we knew what we were looking for, we sent out teams of searchers to gather and destroy all the plants we could find.
I think we heard something about Army personnel on desert and mountain training maneuvers, Lane said.
Yes, that was the cover story we handed out for the media.  It has been a huge undertaking, you understand, but the Department of Defense agreed with our recommendations that it was a task which had to be accomplished.  After intensive searches over the past months, we feel weve located and destroyed most of the weed out in the wild.  Even if weve been one hundred percent successful, which we doubt, there is always the chance  this hybrid could surface again in the future.
What I think youre saying, Major, is that its over, for now, but it might never be over.  Am I right? Connie asked.
It was Dr. Fresnos turn to speak.  You understand, maam, weve done just about everything were capable of doing.  This is a plant which has been around for generations, and theres no way we can be positive it will ever be extinct.  It has, however, led us to the development of prophylactic measures that can be used in combating certain types of hallucinogenic agents which might be employed against US troops or civilians.  Unfortunate as your experience with this narcotic has been, it has been of immense benefit in our research.
Well, at least its over, Lane said.  Major, if youll give us a few moments to put the animals away, you can bring your men in for a cup of coffee.  I guess thats about the least we can do, Lane offered.
Thanks for the offer, deputy, but Ive got twenty men taking a break in the grass on the other side of the aircraft.  Plus a four man crew, Dr. Fresno and myself.  We were just bringing in the last of our search teams and since we were nearby I thought wed drop in, if youll pardon the pun.  I think its best if we get cranked up and headed back to TECBAD.  I appreciate the offer, very much.  Thanks.  He stuck out his hand again and Lane gave it a quick shake.  Congratulations again, Mrs. Mauler, he said touching the brim of his fatigue cap.
Thank you, Major, for stopping by and giving us the information you have.  I hope we can all forget this whole terrible mess now.  Connie also shook hands with Dr. Fresno while the Major went to the chopper.  From where they stood, she and Lane heard him give a loud whistle and make a circling motion with one hand in the air.  The men he had spoken of began to assemble and file into the helicopter.
We better get these animals into the shed before that thing starts up, Lane said.  Im sure the racket will disturb them but they should feel more comfortable once they are in familiar surroundings.
They walked hand in hand as they led their mounts down to the gate in the fence.  You know, Connie said, I really hope this is the last anyone will see of that strange brand of plant.  Its too terrible to have out on the streets where anyone could get hold of it.
Amen to that, Lane said.  Its nice also to think that, bad as our experience has been, the Army was able to get some sort of dividend out of it.
The Army wasnt the only one to get a dividend, Lane.
I know that, Honey.  I got a brand new wife out of everything.
Mrs. Mauler kept her silence, but the knowing smirk on her face, as they slowly walked down hill, made him wonder.
Theres more? he asked.
There will be, she said.  In about seven months the way I figure it.  Late in February, I think.
You mean?  How?  When?
Lane Mauler!  Im sure you know exactly how, and you can probably figure out when.  Lane! she said as his hands groped for her.  Lane?  Stop that!  Youre scaring the animals.  Lane took her firmly in his arms and kissed her while his hands explored her body.  Fortunately they were both still holding tightly to the reins of their mounts for the CH-47 chose that moment to pass loudly overhead.  Its huge rotors whipped the air violently past them while the burning hot odor of kerosene exhaust filled their nostrils.
The mare snorted and whinnied with fright while Sophocles the mule stood placidly waiting for this silly pair of humans to lead him back to his stall.  There would be cool water and shelter from the hot winds and the even hotter sun overhead.  He pulled, impatiently, against his reins.  It was only a little distance further until he would be home.
The End