Car Trouble: A Cassidy Callahan Novel. Kelly Rysten

didn’t like the messages spray painted on the walls. They made me think we were being watched.

      “I hope that was helpful to your investigation.” I said as we walked along.

      “It was and I’m not through with you yet. I know how you track. I want to know your impressions from this, too. You’ve got an idea what kind of a person we are dealing with here.”

      “This guy is used to the desert. He’s had survival training. He has an attitude. He’s too proud. You’ll catch him. I know that just because his attitude is too flaunting. He’s leading you on and trying to show off and it’s just that attitude that will eventually be his big mistake.”

      “Do you want to try another site?”

      “Another one? How many are there?”

      “There’s three in all, confirmed. There are others we are not sure of. This is the most recent. I brought you here because I knew the body had been found. But there are two others.”

      “How often does this guy hit?”

      “So far, every couple of weeks.”

      “So the next site is two weeks old? There’s almost no use even looking if the trail is two weeks old and he is as careful hiding his tracks. But it might be worthwhile to look the area over more carefully. Examine the area from the air to see if there are any shacks within a couple of miles of the site. Then, if you find one, we can hike in to it and see if he has done the same thing before. You know I’ll try anything but I don’t hold out much hope of following this guy’s two week old trail.”

      “I know you tend to profile as you go along. Tell me the impression you got from this trail.”

      “He’s taller than me, shorter than you. He’s a little on the heavy side but I don’t think he’s fat. He is just heavily built. He walks with an odd rolling gait. I picture a guy walking, leaning into his walk, shoulders hunched. I’m willing to bet when you search this guy’s house he has guns, ammo, a stockpile, outdoor magazines and catalogs stacked around. His place is going to look more like a bunker than a home. If I had to pinpoint his size, I’d guess five-ten, a hundred and ninety pounds. But, like I said, not fat.”

      “That’s a lot of assumptions to make off a trail of footprints.”

      “Yeah, but I got a different impression when I tracked Silva, Peccati, and Kelly. Peccati always walked like he was strolling from one building to another in the city. Uphill or down it was the same strolling gait. I knew Peccati didn’t live in a bunker. He was too used to the finer things in life. Off this trail, I’m getting the opposite. This is a killer from the other side of the tracks.”

      A few days later around lunchtime there was a knock on my door. I looked out the peep hole and Rusty was there, a cheerful but worn look on his face.

      “Hey,” I said opening the door wide, “what are you doing here? I thought you’d be hard at work.”

      He came in giving me a quick hug. “I was, unfortunately. That’s what brings me to your house. I’ve got something you need to see.” He held out a sheet of paper. “This isn’t the original. The one we received at the station is being held as evidence. It wasn’t addressed to any specific person but we kind of assume it was meant for you.”

      I motioned for him to have a seat and Shadow danced around his feet, barking, while I took the paper to the couch and sat down to read it. Rusty sat down in a chair and petted Shadow so he’d calm down and lie at our feet. The message was short. I read it twice.

      “LITTLE GIRL, YOU’RE TRACKING DANGEROUS GROUND. I’D STAY HOME SAFE AND SOUND IF I WAS YOU. CONSIDER THIS A WARNING.”

      I noted the scratchy block letters and handed the paper back to Rusty. “Okay, I’ve been warned,” I said.

      “Cass, please be careful. This guy is not someone you want to mess with.”

      “I know. I’m always careful. Do you want to stay for lunch?”

      “I wish I could, but I need to get going. I don’t like the way this case is heading.”

      I walked him to his Explorer and watched as he drove away. As Rusty drove from the neighborhood, I noticed a large white pickup truck slowly cruise down the cross street.

Chapter 4

      I wanted a trip to my camp before the next tracking call came. The following day I called Rusty at the station to check in. He knew I was familiar with the route, the wildlife, and that I had everything I needed for the trip.

      “I just want a few days to track and stalk. I’ll be back in four days. Two hiking days and two camping days. That ought to be enough,” I’d told him.

      I packed some backpacking food, threw in a new novel, a bottle of gas for my stove, and my hiking staple, trail mix. I packed a few scoops of dog food because Shadow was going along on this trip. Shadow happily jumped into the passenger seat, eager to be off. Most of the other items I needed were stored at the camp.

      I drove up to Creekside Campground, passed through the camp and continued to the trailhead that started at the back of the campground. I parked, hung my Adventure Pass in the window, put on my funny looking hat and headed up the trail. I followed the trail beside a little creek that flowed down the canyon. Except for the heat the hike was pleasant. Usually heat will drive the animals into hiding but I saw an unusual number of squirrels and rabbits. Stellars jays flew from pine tree to pine tree. Ferns leaned out over the trail. It was good to be off alone again with good old dirt beneath my moccasins. The first two miles went quickly, Shadow heeling quietly by my side. He was used to this trail. It was our normal route and he had been missing these trips ever since I’d met Rusty. I felt more settled now, so the mountains pulled a little less harshly. Still, the city was beginning to get to me and the snake incident had left me a bit rattled. I wanted to relax.

      I turned off the trail where two creeks came together. The next two miles would be a rough hike up a rugged canyon. I felt a need to focus on specific things during this hike. When I had to focus it helped to clear my cluttered thoughts, so I chose a route up the canyon that required a lot of rock climbing. Nothing major, just enough to make me focus and be careful.

      Shadow knew where we were going and found his own way, but always managed to keep tabs on me. He was a Shetland Sheepdog and keeping track of me was a job he took seriously. I was his flock, his one lonely sheep.

      One rock led to another and I made my way up the canyon one handhold, one foothold at a time. It was relaxing. The creek tumbled down the rocks beside me. It was mid afternoon when I reached a tall, lonely pine tree and a large flat rock beside the creek. I was home. My hideout.

      I’d made the camp a few years before and came here frequently on hiking trips because it was away from the tourists. I loved the creek and the ruggedness of the canyon. There were caves to explore in the canyon walls and refreshing little pools in the creek. I could find deer in two small meadows, one at the top of the canyon and one on the way up. Then one day I discovered a spot where two trees had fallen and been caught between two other trees. I saw the layout as a perfect setup to make a shelter. The next time I returned with a huge tarp and draped it over the leaning trees, then cleared the floor area. I piled branches over the outside to hide it and protect it from the weather. It was like a hidden cave made from branches. The forest had grown up around it and now it looked like a very wild patch of forest. Only someone who was shown the way could find the entrance. There was no door. To gain entry I needed to lift a corner of the tarp that was usually hidden by weeks of fallen pine needles and other forest litter. The inside was warm, snug, and watertight.

      I searched for the corner of the tarp, lifted it and then crawled in with Shadow following me into the dark hidey hole. I felt around for the lantern, bumping into his soft, furry side. I turned it on and looked around. Everything appeared to be in good shape. I pulled the sleeping bag from a dusty corner, removing it from a plastic trash bag. After