Finding Justice Page 7

  “Maybe. You said he was working as a courier. My guess is he was pegged to serve as the middle man. He probably picked up the information that was to be sold and delivered it to the buyer. If I know Pickard, Tim did all the legwork, while he remained safely hidden.”

  “If this guy is stealing information, why would he need a courier? Why not just email it to his customer?”

  “Pickard is too smart to leave a trail. My guess is, he downloads the information directly to a thumb drive, which is delivered to the customer. It’s probably encrypted. Once Pickard gets his cash, he most likely sends the decryption key to the customer.”

  I frowned. “It still seems like there should be a trail of some sort to follow.”

  “Trust me, the best minds in the world have tried.”

  “So, now that you suspect this Pickard is in Alaska, how do you plan to find him? It appears Tim didn’t tell anyone where he went on his delivery jobs.”

  “We’ll need to smoke him out.”

  “How?”

  “You said Tim’s place had been tossed?”

  “It was completely destroyed. Everything was pulled from the cupboards and closets, the sofa cushions had been slit, and everything that was breakable was shattered. I remember thinking whoever trashed the place must have been looking for something small.”

  “Like a thumb drive.”

  I nodded. “Exactly like a thumb drive.”

  “The fact that Tim’s place was trashed indicates to me that the transaction he was involved in was never completed. We need to find out what your friend picked up, where he picked it up, and what he did with it once he had it. I’ll be back in the morning and we’ll begin our investigation.”

  Shredder got up and pulled on his heavy coat. He called Riptide to his side, turned, and looked at me one last time, then wandered out into the night. He hadn’t even given me the opportunity to agree, which I was pretty sure wasn’t a request.

  Chapter 8

  Saturday, December 16

  Shredder was sitting at my kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee and Riptide was sleeping by the fire when I returned from walking the dogs the next day. Honey hadn’t been up to going with us, so I’d taken her out for a quick bathroom break and then fed her the supplements. All in all, feeding the puppies and seeing to Honey’s needs had taken up a good part of the morning, so the other dogs and I had gotten a late start.

  “I see you made yourself right at home.” I pulled off my gloves and hat and hung them on a peg near the door.

  “It’s almost ten o’clock.”

  “Thanks for the information, but I’ve been able to tell time for quite a few years now. What do you want?” I slid off my snow boots and left them to dry on the rack I’d installed for just that purpose.

  “I told you I’d be by.” Shredder bent down to scratch Denali behind the ears.

  “You did,” I acknowledged as I padded across the room in my sock-covered feet. “But I didn’t say I’d be available.”

  “I guess you have a point.” Shredder smiled, a cooked sort of smile that made him look both innocent and approachable. “Harmony Carson, do you think you can find time in your busy day to help me track down the man who most likely killed your friend Tim and will most likely be responsible for the deaths of many others if we don’t stop him?”

  I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Do you think he’s still in the area?”

  “I don’t know. To be honest, I’m not sure he was ever in Rescue. At the very least I’m hoping to pick up his trail.”

  I took a sip of my coffee, then sat down at the table across from Shredder. “And how is it exactly that you think I can help you?”

  “Prior to my arrival, you were in the process of following Tim Maverick’s last days, attempting to find out how he really died. If he was supposed to deliver a package for Pickard but failed to do so—which is the assumption I’m working from at the moment—I think resolving the specifics concerning his death is still the best course of action to track Pickard. Pickard hasn’t been an easy man to find and I don’t have any knowledge of Tim’s personal habits or the basic geography of this area. That’s where you come in.”

  I took another sip of my coffee. I needed a minute to think about that. Getting involved in some sort of CIA operation wasn’t at all how I’d envisioned spending my day.

  “Will you help me?” Shredder asked again.

  “I already have a lot on my plate. I have the new pups, my other animals to care for, a shelter to remodel, the holiday to prepare for, and my job, to name just a few of my obligations.”

  “You were trying to find Tim’s killer anyway,” Shredder said.

  He had a point.

  “We seem to have the same agenda. All I’m asking is that we work on it as a team.”

  “What exactly does that mean?” I asked. “A team? Are you going to share with me what you already know?”

  “I’ll share what I can,” Shredder answered.

  “And our search for Tim’s killer won’t interrupt my ability to care for my animals or help out with any rescues that might come up?”

  “I can agree to that.”

  “And my job?”

  “I’ll speak to your boss about a leave of absence.”

  “I have bills to pay, you know.”

  “I believe I can arrange to pay you as a consultant. Do we have a deal?”

  Against my better judgment, I felt myself nodding. “Yeah. We have a deal.”

  “Great.” Shredder grinned. “So, about breakfast…”

  “I have to feed Honey and the pups before I do anything else, but you can help yourself to whatever you can find.”

  Shredder headed to the refrigerator, where I kept the puppy formula. “How about I help you with the feeding and then I’ll take you out for a bite? We can come up with a strategy while we eat.”

  I wanted to say no, but I nodded instead. Shredder took out the formula and followed me to my bedroom. We poured the formula into the bottles Kelly had left and I handed two of them to Shredder.

  “They look bigger already,” he commented as he cradled a chocolate-colored Lab mix in his large, tan hand.

  “I know it doesn’t make sense that they would have already grown, but they really do look bigger,” I agreed as I fed a golden-colored pup. “Of course, they’ve been eating nonstop since they were born.”

  “Honey looks like she’s doing well,” Shredder added.

  “Yeah, I think she’s going to be fine. She’s been sleeping a lot, but she ate well this morning and even demonstrated a bit of energy when I took her out.”

  “Are you planning to keep her, or will you look for a home for her after the pups are weaned?” Shredder gently placed the pup he’d been feeding next to his siblings and picked up the next one.

  “I’ll probably keep Honey because I feel like we’ve already bonded, but I’d like to find homes for the pups. I have a few families in mind who’ve expressed interest in adopting a younger dog if I should come across one.”

  “Puppies are a lot of work,” Shredder commented.

  I set my first pup back in the birthing box I’d transferred the family to and picked up the last of the four waiting for her meal. “Yeah, they are. I’ll need to be sure to find the right fit. I’m always very careful who I adopt the dogs and cats I find out to. I don’t want any of my strays to end up back on the street.”

  Once all the pups had eaten, I fed Honey the second of the four small meals she was to eat each day, then took her out. And I called Kelly to tell her I’d be out but I’d leave my door unlocked in case she wanted to stop by while she was out to check on our new mom and pups. We’d decided to leave Riptide with my dogs, so as soon as I’d settled Honey back with her pups, I grabbed my backpack, jacket, hat, and gloves and followed Shredder out into the frigid morning.

  There was a black Humvee parked behind my old Jeep. Shredder offered to drive, so I climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up. I assumed if he was
in the CIA he’d been trained to drive in a variety of weather conditions, including snow, though based on the darkness of his tan, I was less than confident.

  “So, where are you from?” I asked in what I hoped was a conversational tone.

  “Nowhere in particular.”

  “It looks like you’ve spent some time in a tropical location. Unless you’re into tanning booths.”

  Shredder glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “No, I’m not a fan of tanning booths.”

  “So your last assignment was somewhere warm?”

  “It would seem. Do you have a preference as to where we have breakfast?”

  I knew I should suggest Chloe’s Café, but she’d never allow us to talk in peace and quiet without lingering or even butting in, so I directed him to a small hunter’s diner out on the highway. The likelihood of my running into anyone I knew there was a lot less than it would be in town.

  I realized Shredder wasn’t going to tell me where he’d gotten his tan, so I changed my line of questioning. “How long have you been with the CIA?”

  “Who said I was with the CIA?”

  “You did. Remember, you called them and had them vouch for you?”

  “I never said I was part of the CIA, I just said they could vouch for me.”

  “Okay, then, who do you work for?”

  “It’s classified.”

  “Of course it is.” I wasn’t certain, but it seemed Shredder was enjoying our cat-and-mouse exchange. Personally, I could do with a more direct route to finding out who I was speeding down an icy highway with. “Look,” I eventually said, “I’ve agreed to put my life on hold to team up with a stranger to find an international fugitive I know nothing about. I think it only fair that you tell me something more than your first name, which is probably an alias anyway.”

  “Okay. That’s fair,” Shredder agreed. “What do you want to know?”

  “Do you work for the CIA?”

  “I don’t currently work for them.”

  “But you did at one time?”

  “Sort of. I was educated by the CIA, but when it became apparent my skill set was somewhat unique, my commitment to them was forgiven so I could pursue other interests.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’m sorry, but I really can’t say.”

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. This conversation was getting ridiculous. “Okay, I’ll let you keep your little secret if you tell me about your family, where you grew up, and where you got that tan.”

  “My parents were hippies who lived in a California commune in the sixties. They lived in a group home with their free-loving friends until my mom became pregnant with me in the early eighties. At that point, they moved into a single-family home on the same piece of property. My childhood was interesting, to say the least, but that’s a story for another day. As for my tan, I spent the past six months on a tropical island—and no, I can’t tell you which one—and until I came to Alaska I’d never been so cold in my life.”

  “How did the child of a hippie couple living in a commune end up in the CIA?”

  “As I’ve already said, I’m not a member of the CIA.”

  “Okay, then tell me about your education with the CIA.”

  “I was homeschooled until I was fourteen, by which time my dad realized I had a skill set others would find of value. He arranged for a friend of his to have me tested for a program that was run by the CIA to train young operatives.”

  “Are you making this up?”

  Shredder turned his head and glanced at me. “Does it sound like it’s made up?”

  “Totally.”

  “I find it’s best to trust your intuition.”

  “You realize your story makes no sense, right? Why would a hippie who lived in a commune for most of his life even consider handing his son over to a government agency?”

  “There are things about me you can’t know and would never understand.”

  “You see, it’s the whole vague thing that’s rubbing me wrong. It feels artificial. I feel like everything you’ve said to me since we met has been a lie. How do I know I can trust you?”

  Shredder shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to get to know me better and decide for yourself if I’m trustworthy. Is the diner on the right or the left?

  “Left. In about a mile. There’s a big neon sign with a moose on it. You can’t miss it.”

  ******

  Luckily, the diner wasn’t crowded and we settled into a booth in the back and ordered coffee and the breakfast special. The place might be a bit of a dive, but I’d eaten there before and knew they had pretty good food. It was nice and warm, so I slid out of my outerwear before taking the first sip of the strong coffee it was known for.

  “Okay, what exactly is your plan?” I asked after we’d ordered and the waitress had left to help another customer.

  “When I spoke to Landon, he told me that you’d already started to map Tim Maverick’s last days. We’ll start there.”

  I sat back in the booth and considered the man across from me. I still wasn’t 100 percent sure I could trust him, but I’d agreed to work with him, so I needed to tell him something. The conversation paused while the waitress brought our bacon, eggs, biscuits, and gravy. We both took a few bites before I picked it up again.

  “Look, I really did tell you everything I know last night. I know Tim sent the photo of Pickard to Harley and said if he died, the man in the photo had killed him. Harley and I have been asking around, and we learned Tim was a courier, most likely working for Pickard. We know Tim died of a drug overdose, even though everyone who knew him swears he was clean, and we saw for ourselves his home was tossed.”

  Shredder took a bite of his biscuit before he answered. “Think of the people you’ve spoken to in the past week. Someone must have told you something you haven’t already told me.”

  “Tim stopped at the gas station to fill up his tank on the day before his body was found. He told Gill Greenland, the station owner, he was heading north.”

  “Okay, that could be a clue. What about after that?”

  “So far, no one I’ve spoken to has said they’ve seen him after that.”

  “His body was found in Rescue?” Shredder asked.

  “Just outside of town.”

  “So, if he took a trip north, it appears he returned home before he was murdered, if that’s what happened.”

  “It would seem. I can’t say for sure he actually went home, though.”

  Shredder took a sip of his coffee, his eyes on me all the while. “You said Tim’s place was tossed. Do you know if that happened before or after his body was found?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know when it happened. It could have been at any point before Harley, Jake, and I checked it out, which was on Thursday of last week.”

  “Okay, let’s head over there when we’re done eating. Maybe there’s a clue the three of you missed.”

  *******

  Tim’s cabin didn’t look like it had been touched since we’d been there more than a week before. As far as I knew, Tim’s death was still considered an accidental overdose, so the police hadn’t initiated an investigation. Tim’s parents had left Rescue quite a while ago, and had cut all ties with him when his drug habit was at its worst. I wasn’t certain if they’d ever mended their relationship. If not, I had no idea who Tim might have listed as his next of kin.

  “What are we looking for?” I asked.

  “Anything that might point us to Tim’s whereabouts during the last weeks of his life. We know he’d made contact with Pickard prior to sending the photo to Harley Medford, and at that point he considered him a threat. We don’t know how long they were acquainted or where and how they met.”

  “Do you think that matters?”

  “It might. Why don’t you take a look around in here and I’ll start off in the bedroom?”

  I did as Shredder asked and began picking up, then discarding, items I’d found on the floor. I now assumed whoev
er had trashed the place was most likely looking for the thumb drive with sensitive information, if any of that story was true, but I thought it couldn’t still be in the cabin, if it ever had been there at all. Of course, he might have hidden it somewhere he knew this Pickard wouldn’t find it, but I didn’t know Tim well enough to know where that would be.

  I found a matchbook on the floor from a bar I knew was about sixty miles north of Rescue. Not a good sign because Tim was supposed to be on the wagon, but I suppose he might have simply stopped by to eat or use the facilities. Tim had been heading north the day before his body was found, so I set it aside. I also found a receipt for gas dated the same day. Gill had said Tim stopped by for gas on his way north, so if the receipt was in the cabin, it suggested Tim had completed his trip and come home before being assaulted by the man who killed him, assuming, of course, his drug overdose really was the result of someone shooting him up against his will. If he’d completed his trip, did that mean he’d handed the thumb drive off to the person he was supposed to deliver it to?

  Toward the bottom of a pile of books on the floor, I found a small notepad, the sort you might keep next to your phone. The pages were all blank, but I could see indentations on the first one from whatever had been written on the previous page. I looked around until I found a pencil, then scratched it over the surface. The paper said Grizzly Inn 6 pm. There wasn’t a date, so I had no way of knowing if the note related to something that had happened immediately before Tim’s death, but I knew the place was about three hours north of town.

  “Did you find anything?” Shredder asked when I came out to the main room.

  “A gas receipt, a matchbook, and a note.”

  “Sounds promising. What do they tell you?”

  I held up the receipt first. “When I spoke to Gill, he told me Tim had filled up his vehicle the day before his body was found and was heading north. This receipt is from that day. To me, that means he most likely completed whatever task he’d had for the day and came home before he died.”