CHAPTER 24
Padre grabbed a flashlight from his car and made his way on foot down a dirt path to the maintenance shed. He kept thinking of the story Dagger told him about the witness. Padre had a hard time swallowing that story. From Padre's perspective after surveying the townhouse yesterday, there was no way anyone could have seen the murder through the patio windows unless he were standing right on the deck or hanging from a mast in Lake Michigan. But, as in the past, Dagger would let him know only as much as he wanted him to know.
Padre followed the flashlight beam to the maintenance shed. Broken pottery, bricks, and logs cluttered the area. He shone the flashlight through a dingy windowpane and could barely make out the outline of two snowplows. The boy had been right. He had seen snowplows in the summer.
He fumbled his way to a barn-type door. A large, rusting padlock held the door shut. After knocking it a few times, the rusting padlock snapped open.
"Gee, someone left the door open," Padre laughed.
Gravel littered the floor. The smell of gasoline hung in the air mingled with a musty odor. The warehouse was crammed with maintenance equipment strewn about without any sense of order.
He followed footprints which dotted the dust and grime in a path from the door to a side room. A large cabinet hung on the wall with a sign saying SNOW SHOVELS.
He opened the cabinet and found more than snow shovels. He found a rolled up carpet. Laying the flashlight on a shelf, Padre dragged the rug from its hiding place and dropped it on the floor. Starting at one end, he kicked at the rug and it started to unroll. Grabbing the flashlight, he shined it on the white rug, which was stained with what looked like blood. Bending down, he pulled at some of the stained fibers and held them in front of the beam.
"Damn." He flipped open his phone and called Dagger.
"I don't know why the hell we have to do all the drudge work while Luke sits back at the hotel making phone calls." Mince pulled onto the gravel road leading to the maintenance shed. He pressed a hand to his right shoulder and winced. "Goddamn flesh wound hurts worse than if the damn bullet went through me. It should be Luke out here lifting up this heavy rug."
"He said we left the loose ends so we have to get rid of them," Joey reminded him. "And the rug is one big loose end."
"Any idea what we're supposed to do with it? We can't burn it."
"Bury it. I brought shovels and there are a lot of woods south of here. We don't need to dig a trench too deep."
Mince jammed the brake pedal. "Hey, did you see that?"
"What?"
"I thought I saw a light on in the shed."
Mince turned the headlights off and killed the engine. Quietly, they exited the truck and made their way down the path.
"TELEPHONE, TELEPHONE, AWWWKK." Einstein poked his beak between the bars of the grated door.
"You are just dying to answer it, too, aren't you, Einstein?" Sara located the portable phone. It was Padre.
"Dagger went to the marina," Sara told Padre.
"I think I found the rug."
"You did?"
"Well, it's A rug, and it's blood-stained, so I'm assuming it's THE rug."
"Do you have Dagger's cell number?"
"Wait a minute," Padre whispered. "I hear something."
"Padre?" Sara thought she heard a moan and then a thud. The phone was disconnected. "Padre?" Sara hung up the phone, her heart pounding. The Dunes Resort was an hour's drive away. She dialed information for the Michigan City Police Department while she ran up the stairs to her bedroom. Stripping out of her clothes, she explained to the dispatcher that a Cedar Point police officer might be in danger and gave them the name of the resort. She didn't have time to call Dagger. It would be easier and quicker to communicate with him telepathically.
Sara stepped nude onto the balcony and leaped into the air. The hawk's rapid wing beats helped it reach an altitude above the trees almost instantly.
Dagger?
Dagger almost lost control of his motorcycle. "Sonofabitch!" He careened around a corner and down a sidewalk near an outdoor café sending dinner patrons running for cover.
I'm sorry. I did it again?
I'll get used to it, eventually.
Padre's in trouble.
Where is he?
Sara explained Padre's phone call and how it sounded as if someone had surprised him.
We can't get there in time, Sara. I'll place another call to their police department. Make sure they realize the urgency. Where are you now?
I'm not sure. I'm following the shoreline so it shouldn't take too long. Once I get there, the wolf will have a better sense of smell.
Be careful, Sara. Remember what we talked about. After his call to the police, Dagger described to Sara his meeting with Pete Foster.
And this was never revealed in the police report?
No.
Dagger, have you tried calling Padre's cell phone?
Yes. There's no answer.
After a few moments of silence, Sara said, I can see the resort. I'm going in for a closer look. The hawk glided over the resort, seeing the lights around the pool, courtyard, and the streets outlining the property. It searched for police cars and spotted them parked in front of the hotel. Then it looked for the maintenance shed where Padre had said he'd found the rug.
I'm here, Dagger. I don't see an ambulance, only police cars parked by the entrance.
I'm about twenty minutes away.
Dagger prayed nothing serious happened to Padre. Mile markers flew by, and he passed several unmanned police cars, parked for the sheer purpose of slowing traffic. The helmet was hot but a necessity when driving at night. Bugs were too numerous and some too large to leave one's face unprotected.
It wasn't until his fingers started aching that he realized he had a vice grip on the handlebar. Subconsciously, he was thinking the worst about Padre. He approached the exit for the Dunes Resort. He was ten minutes away.
Gliding over the maintenance shed the hawk searched for movement. Its acute eyesight made the area below look bathed in daylight, every detail illuminated. It circled the shed twice. Convinced it was unseen, it swooped down and shifted into a gray wolf.
Immediately, its sense of smell detected danger. Lifting its head, the wolf listened, trying to block out distant sounds from the pool, the squirrels and cicadas, the four-legged creatures, and the horns from offshore boats.
Convinced that no two-legged creatures were close by, the wolf scurried up to the shed door and immediately picked up the scent. It followed the scent of blood down to the shoreline.
Dagger, where are you?
Dagger flinched and swore under his breath. I should be there shortly, barring any unforeseen speeding tickets. Have you seen any police?
Not yet. I haven't found Padre yet, either.
What looked like a pile of rags bobbed just off shore. The wolf kicked up sand as it rushed toward the water. It immediately saw that the pile of rags had arms and legs.
Oh my God. I found him, Dagger.
Is he alive?
The wolf ran into the water and grabbed Padre by the back of his shirt, dragging him on shore. Then it raced toward the hotel, through the gardens sending patrons running for cover. It stopped as it neared the entrance and let out a loud howl. Police officers standing near their cars looked over.
The wolf turned and ran, stopped and howled again. It repeated this several times until the officers decided to follow. It heard the officers ask each other if they were following a wolf or a dog. One officer pulled a gun but another told his partner to put his weapon away.
The wolf ran up to Padre's motionless body and howled again. It moved into the thicket as the cops approached. It watched as the cops tried to resuscitate the man.
"Was he attacked by the wolf?" one of the cops asked as he pulled his gun again.
"No, he's been shot. The wolf just might have saved him."
One officer called for an ambulance and within moments, the beach was turned into a crime scene area with spotlights, wooden horses, and onlookers.
The wolf edged its way into the underbrush as the crowd grew. Fearful of humans, it retreated farther into the darkened forest, shifted into the hawk, and from the safety of high branches, watched with anticipation at the activity below.
I don't know if he's alive, Sara cried.
What's happening?
Sara explained what the police were doing. She heard one of the officers say Padre was breathing. He was shot, Dagger. And they left him to drown.
The Harley coughed and sputtered as Dagger weaved around the wooden horses that had been set up. He was stopped before he could get any closer.
"You're going to have to park your bike someplace else." The fresh-faced kid with a name badge that said LANSING, tried to sound authoritative in a uniform that was too big for him and a holster that was starting to slip down to his hip bone. He hiked the gun belt up and kept his hands on his hips, which to Dagger looked more like an attempt to keep his gun belt from pulling his pants down around his ankles.
Dagger whipped a business card in front of the rookie. "I'd like to speak to the officer in charge. I think I might know the victim." He rushed past, forcing the teen-cop to run to keep up.
"That would be Sergeant Duranski. He's the guy with the big head, literally."
The crowd parted as Dagger pressed forward. Sergeant Duranski wasn't hard to find. He did have a big head and a wide face to go with it. But he had a large enough frame to carry it, almost seven-feet tall.
When Officer Lansing introduced them, Dagger had to crane his neck to look Duranski in the eye. This was no country-bumpkin, small-town sheriff. His eyes narrowed with suspicion at Dagger, and when he opened his mouth to speak, there was enough space between his front teeth to drive a truck through.
Dagger gave a quick look at the body on the beach and told Duranski the victim was Sergeant Jerry Martinez of the Cedar Point Police Department.
"How did you hear about this, Mister Dagger?" Duranski turned Dagger's business card toward the light.
"Just Dagger will be fine."
Duranski grunted in response. "You're the fella that called. How the hell did you get here so quick?"
Paramedics arrived with medical equipment and a stretcher. The two men moved away to give them room. Dagger explained how Padre was helping him with a case, how Padre's phone call had been disconnected, and why Dagger had reason to believe Padre was in trouble. Dagger watched the paramedics strip off Padre's shirt. The bullet was in the chest, but fortunately had missed the heart.
"Listen," Dagger said to the paramedics, "Cedar Point Hospital has a trauma center and a helicopter. You can be there in the same amount of time as it takes to get him to your hospital."
"We already called them," one of the medics said, never turning away from his work. The technician had the fastest hands Dagger had ever seen. "He's stabilized," the paramedic announced. "But we have to get him to the trauma center quick." He turned to his female partner. "Find out the chopper's ETA."
Is he going to be okay? Dagger heard Sara's voice in his head.
He's stabilized but they don't know yet. I just hope he makes it to the hospital in time.
"Lansing," Duranski called out. "You and Sizemore find out if anyone saw or heard anything." To Dagger he said, "You realize, he may be Cedar Point's cop, but his attempted murder is my business. So I WILL be at Sergeant's Martinez's bedside to get his statement."
"Of course." Dagger drifted away from the beach toward the maintenance shed. Shadows jumped as he followed a footpath. An owl hooted up in the trees.
Where are you going, Dagger?
I'm going to take a look at the maintenance shed. He heard the trees rustling overhead and assumed it was the hawk. The large door gaped open, the interior dark. Nudging the door with his elbow, he entered.
"Something in here of interest?"
Turning quickly, Dagger almost hit Duranski with the flashlight. "Are you looking to give me a coronary?"
"Didn't mean to startle you. I get a little suspicious when strangers start sticking there nose into my territory." He ran his tongue over his piano-key teeth, almost losing it in the large gap. Duranski had to duck through the doorway. He clicked on a flashlight of his own, a heavy-duty light with a beam as wide as he was tall. "How long you been a P.I.?"
"About five years. I've known Sergeant Martinez almost as long. He's a good detective."
"Any reason why you're checking out this shed?" Duranski followed close behind.
"When Padre called my house, he told my assistant where he was. She made the first call to your station. I just wanted to check this shed out." The beam illuminated the walls, bouncing off the heavy equipment. It rested on a bare spot on the floor about fifteen feet by twenty feet, swept or brushed clean. "Looks like something rested here," Dagger said. He opened the cabinet marked SNOW SHOVELS. Some shovels hung from nails, others leaned against each other. None were hanging on the left side of the cabinet, as if they had been moved aside to make room.
"If I find out you're holding out on me," Duranski warned, "I will be more than happy to show you one of our best cells."