A Clattering of Jackdaws (The Birdwatcher Series Book 2) Read online

  “No, no,” he answered, “I’ve called to tell you the game is back on. Carson Lemond will be in touch with you soon.”

  “Carson Lemond was you?” Tyler said; the thought had crossed his mind that Spalding had been behind it but he’d dismissed it due the ongoing investigation into the missing people Spalding was thought to have taken (by Sarah and him at least).

  The line went dead. Tyler listened a moment and then put the phone back down in the cradle. The game was back on. A devious smile played about his lips and grew. This was the best news he could have received and now it was certain that he would be able to draw Sarah in as far as he needed her to go.

  Chapter 19

  SARAH WAS AS FRUSTRATED with the wait for the cipher team to break the ‘Agrarian’s third code and she was beginning to believe that it was simply the number of items that was the answer. She wasn’t surprised in the least when her cell phone rang and the screen showed no number. It was Tyler, he’d waited as long as he could before getting back to her but the end of his patience had been reached.

  “Hello?” Sarah answered, just in case she was wrong and it was not him.

  “Sarah, it’s me,” Tyler’s voice spoke. He sounded excited and almost out of breath.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I’m just off a call and you’re not going to believe it,” he replied.

  “Tell me?” Sarah didn’t even try to hold back how much she wanted to know what he was talking about.

  Sarah listened in complete shock as Tyler told her about his talk with his source and Carson Lemond. Then he told her of his suspicion Spalding was involved, not letting slip that he'd spoken to him too.

  “What’s your plan?” she asked.

  “Not sure yet, but the Carson Lemond case is tied up in this now too. He’s another Des Roche or Karl Stanver; he didn’t do these murders but he’s part of Spalding’s game somehow, we have to figure out what the connection is.”

  “We’ve gone over his whole life top to bottom and back to front,” Sarah said. “He’s a normal guy who had his head turned by the money in organised crime and wanted a piece for himself.”

  “And it backfired spectacularly,” Tyler said.

  “You can say that again,” Sarah said. “Do you know where he is?”

  “No, but I think I might be able to arrange to meet him when he calls.” Sarah wondered if this was wise but then saw the opportunity.

  “I’d have to be nearby, keeping an eye out,” she said.

  “I don’t know,” Tyler said but Sarah quickly shot back

  “If we’re working on this together we need to work as a team. My work prevents you from being some places but yours does not.”

  “That’s not true,” Tyler calmly retorted, “I have to tell my contacts the truth about things. If word got out that I was working with the FBI, do you think anyone would talk to me?”

  “Carson isn’t one of your sources,” she said, though she could concede the point he was making, “He’s a fugitive wanted by the FBI.”

  Tyler didn’t answer right away and there was silence on the line for a moment. Sarah wondered how to broker this. As she thought, however, Tyler said,

  “In this case, it’s best you don’t know about it until after it’s happened. It’s safer for you, for your career if you don’t know in advance.”

  “So you plan to meet him and then let him go back into whatever hole he’s hiding in?” She knew her tone wasn’t caustic enough to sting him because she felt he was right, at least partially. When was she going to start trusting him?

  “Fine,” she said softly, “I guess some of the way in this case we are going to have to go it alone.”

  “That’s just the way it is,” he agreed. “Any news on the message in the ‘Agrarian’ case?” he asked.

  “Not yet, I don’t know what they are at down there. They should have figured it out by now,” Sarah said.

  “That’s assuming there is something to figure out,” Tyler answered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’ve just thought of this now as we were speaking, but what if the message was only a ruse, something to tie everyone up with and distract from the case.” Sarah thought about this a moment and it instantly appealed to her, not in the sense that she wanted it to be the case but that she thought it made clear sense.

  “The bastard!” she said angrily.

  “You have to remember, this is all a game to these killers a lot of the time. I wouldn’t be surprised if the next time the message says ‘ha ha, got you’ or something like that.”

  “They still might find something,” Sarah said hoping it would somehow be a buffer against Tyler’s predicted outcome. She didn’t like the idea that there was going to be another murder at all, but adding an insult to them would be even worse.

  “You better get off the phone in case Carson calls you tonight,” Sarah said.

  “Yeah,” he agreed.

  “Promise me you’ll tell me if he makes contact,” she asked.

  “I’ll send a blank message when he does,” Tyler said and then added, “Good night.”

  “Goodnight.”

  After she hung up the phone Sarah thought about the pickle she was getting herself involved in again. There was no avoiding it; it was the only way she was going to get to work the case she really wanted.

  The idea of telling Malick what was going on crossed her mind, but the sad fact was that she wasn’t sure about him anymore. He would probably tell Bobrick what she was up to in order to protect her, she just couldn't be sure. It made her wonder if he was going to be around all that much longer anyway. If he didn’t see to this trauma soon, his career would be over.

  A pang of sadness ran through her then at this thought. The fact was that with his fears and her necessity to work with Tyler, it would be much easier if Malick did leave. The idea sent a surge of guilt through Sarah’s body. It felt like a betrayal of all those years they had worked together.

  The simple fact, however, was that things change, and not always for the best.

  Chapter 20

  THE TYRES OF THE STATION wagon bobbled and shook as the car left the main road and started across what Megan Stanver could only assume was a dirt track. She was blindfolded and tucked up in the boot of the car for the journey. Spalding had made her as comfortable as possible, however, and she’d just woken up from the injection she’d been given so that she would sleep for most of the ride.

  As ever she had no real idea where she was going, but Megan didn’t feel as frightened this time about the move. Each time before now she’d had visions of being brought to a remote forest and being handed a shovel and told to start digging her own grave. This time was different though. They had spoken now, and Megan felt she was part of something—she still didn’t know what exactly, nor did she think her ultimate end had changed from death—bigger. She had some time on her side now.

  Megan had eaten dinner with her captor two nights previous and they’d spoken at length about many things. He was evasive about some things but on other counts Spalding seemed to be telling the truth. Of course, she couldn't be sure, but she felt he was being honest. As they spoke, she wondered if he was trying to rope her in, drive her into some subtle Stockholm Syndrome scenario and she did her best to be wary of him at all times.

  Megan had asked about her father and had cried profusely when Spalding confirmed he had in fact killed the woman in an attempt to save his daughter's life. She didn’t know if she would have preferred to die herself than see this happening, but she tried to put herself in her father’s shoes and wondered would she have done the same thing if she had a child in the same situation? She supposed she would never know.

  The car came to a halt and there was silence in the air for a moment. Then the sound of some bird call came on the wind just as the door of the car opened. Megan felt the car tilt as the huge Spalding got out and then it righted itself as she heard his heavy footsteps coming to the bac
k of the car.

  The boot sprang open and bright sunlight poured in and blinded her a moment. She pulled her handcuffed hands to her eyes as a defence. Spalding leaned in and undid the shackles of her legs and then lifted her out and put her down on her feet, a hand still on her shoulder in case her legs were dead or she hadn't fully woken up yet.

  “Welcome to the new home,” he said.

  Megan turned her back to the sun and looked to see an old white three story farmhouse in front of her. It was once white but the paint had dulled and flecked off the wooden walls over the years. The grass around was unkempt and the building didn’t look like it had been occupied for a long time.

  “Where are we?” she asked, though it was more an automatic thing than a real question; she knew he wasn’t going to tell her.

  “We’re in southern Pennsylvania,” he replied. Megan looked at him with surprise; this was the first time in many months when she actually knew what State she was in.

  “I hope it’s better inside that it looks from out here,” she said.

  “It is,” he assured her and gently nudged her back to start her walking towards the house.

  The front door was open, and Megan couldn’t help but notice it didn't seem to have any special locks on it. In fact, it looked like even she would be able to get through the door panels with a swift kick. Dust covered every surface, though the floor had trails that made it clear someone had been here recently. Cobwebs hung from the corners and there was a damp smell, the wood rotting through, she felt, in the air.

  In the open hallway, Spalding passed her and went through what was once a dining room—the table and chairs still there but long covered in grime—and into the kitchen at the rear of the house. Megan stood still for a moment, looked to the unlocked door with the possibility of freedom behind it and then dismissed the idea of trying to run as ridiculous. She walked to the kitchen to the waiting killer.

  “What are we doing here?” she asked looking around and out through the dirty window to the lands beyond. She couldn't make out much but saw there were no other buildings in sight.

  “I think this place will be more comfortable for you,” he replied.

  “You want me to live here?” she asked. He nodded. “Am I supposed to clean up the place?” Megan went on, not relishing the idea. At this Spalding laughed and shook his head,

  “No, no,” he said. “You’ll have all you need here.”

  “This place is a dump, what are you talking about?” Megan shot back hotly, her temper getting the better of her.

  “There still have to be some surprises!” he said with a mischievous grin on his face. Megan didn’t know what he meant by this as she absently watched his hand go to the counter top.

  Suddenly the floor was gone from under her and Megan fell screaming. The fall was short and she landed softly as the trap door above her closed, plunging her into darkness. The soft surface beneath her suddenly sprang up and she was tilted forward onto a harder plastic slide that was almost sheer.

  This drop too was short and the slide levelled out until she emerged tumbling to a soft floor- like that of a children’s playground. Megan gained some footing and scrambled backwards until she felt the soft padding of a wall at her back. Her eyes darted about the darkness but almost at once a low soft red light began to appear, like that inside a haunted house at the funfair and she was able to see the room she was in. It was a small square with only the slide and a doorway for exit or egress. She stood and was aware of noise coming from outside the room.

  As she listened, Megan soon became sure the noise was that of voices! Could it be there were other people here? Other people who were able to talk to one another? Or was it another of Spalding’s tricks? Perhaps a speaker was down the hall playing something, or a TV set. She walked to the door and looked outside. A short corridor ran in both directions so that this door was right in the middle of it. She had lost her bearings in the fall so could not be sure where she might be in relation to the house above.

  Megan stepped out into the hallway and followed the sounds of the voices. She’d only moved about ten feet before she was sure they were real. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of seeing real people and talking to them. Who were they? She listened.

  They were talking about the news! She heard the ruffle of newspaper and someone say,

  “I think he’s treating Iran just the way they deserve.”

  “Just the right way to start a war, you mean,” someone else retorted. Megan was at the door to the room now, her hand resting on it. She hesitated, worrying for an instant how she must look—a nice reminder of her old life suddenly—but dismissed it and leaned to the door. It opened a crack and the room fell silent at once and she saw three people staring with wonder at her.

  “Come in!” a young man said rising from his chair and coming over to her. The others stood too and Megan was aware of others in the room also rising, she could hear the chairs and there were murmurs of excitement running through lowered voices.

  The door opened wider and Megan saw ten people in all standing facing her eagerly.

  “Come in,” the man said more softly this time, “We know it’s been tough for you.”

  With these words of kindness and the smiling friendly face before her, Megan dropped to her knees and wept uncontrollably.

  Chapter 21

  BUDDY HAD BEEN AS GOOD as his word and arranged for Carson to be stowed away on a truck running up north to Canada the night after they spoke. They didn’t have a chance to meet up again but Carson thanked him and said he would one day do something to pay him back.

  As the truck rolled north, farther and farther away from his troubles, Carson began to relax a little. His face had already dropped from headline news but he knew the manhunt was still on and he was glad to be getting out of the area they were focusing on.

  Not long into the journey though, he began to think about things. For the first time since stepping into the bathroom in Vito’s his mind was able to clear a little. In his mind’s eye he saw Buddy’s face, the doubt there as to whether he’d done these terrible things or not. True the face had been replaced with a look of relief when Carson told him he was innocent but wouldn't there be countless others who would still assume his guilt. Other people he knew in his life, the police and the FBI? Perhaps running away wasn’t the smartest move to make after all.

  At this though, Carson put his hand deep into his pocket and came out with the scrap of paper the man in the alley had given him. He looked at Tyler Ford’s number through the slanted light that came through the slats on the side of the truck.

  “What can you do for me, Tyler Ford?” he said out loud.

  The border couldn’t be too far away now. Apparently there would be no trouble with the patrols at the crossing—some deal Buddy’s place had with the guards Carson couldn't even guess at.

  The truck pulled in and Carson looked outside. It was a huge truck stop area, a large gas station and diner on the side of the road and a few acres of parking spaces for big rigs and trucks. Carson saw the driver going towards the diner, stuffing a rolled up newspaper in his back pocket as he went.

  All was quiet now and Carson listened to his own breathing. Softer and easier than the last few days.

  He didn’t want to run.

  It took him close to half an hour to figure out how to open the truck door from the inside and then he didn’t know how to close it once he was out. The driver wouldn't be happy, but Carson hadn’t actually met the man and as such didn’t really care. There was nothing he could do about it and he couldn't risk going inside to tell him he was leaving and not crossing the border illegally with him after all.

  He walked across the concrete as though he were used to the place, just another truck driver taking a break. There was bound to be a payphone somewhere around the gas station, and he hoped it would be outside and away from eavesdroppers.

  Carson was in luck, there was a bank of three phones near an ATM along an external
wall of the building. No one else was using a phone right now and the blinking light of the ATM awaited a customer. Choosing the phone farthest from the ATM in case someone did come to use it, Carson deposited some coins into the phone and then dialled the number on the sheet of paper.

  “Hello?” the answer came more suddenly than Carson had expected and he almost hung up as panic swept over him.

  “Hey,” Carson said, getting a grip on himself, “Is that Tyler?” He sounded like a teenager calling a girl for a date!

  “Yeah, who is this?” Carson hesitated,

  “I was told you might be able to help me,” he said, keeping back his name for now.

  “Depends on what you need help with,” Tyler replied.

  “Clearing my name,” he said and waited for the response.

  “What is it you didn’t do?” Tyler asked.

  “Murder.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t three murders?” Tyler asked and Carson drew in breath at his identity being known. Had the man told Tyler Carson would be in touch? Hell, was Tyler the man he’d met in the alleyway? There was silence for a time and then Carson asked,

  “Can you help me?”

  “I can if you trust me,” Tyler said.

  “I don’t know you,” Carson replied.

  “I need to know you won’t lie to me,” Tyler said, “That’s the only way I can help you.”

  “What do you want to know?” Carson asked.

  “Well for starters, where are you?”

  “Near the Canadian border.”

  “You’re running?”

  “Was.”

  “But not now? That’s why you called me?”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing if I’m honest,” Carson said and he’d never said a truer thing in his life.

  “Well,” Tyler said, “You need to make up your mind if you’re running or staying right now.” Carson thought about this for a moment and then said,

  “I want to clear my name.”