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Chapter 17

Just before dawn, Pendergast left the campsite and slowly made his way to the lot where he had parked the truck. The mountain was shrouded in a cold, thick fog, and the beam of his flashlight barely penetrated the mist. His journey down the mountain took almost an hour, and when he reached the lot he saw Glinn’s dark grey van parked next to the truck. He set his camping gear down next to the van and opened the passenger door. Glinn turned toward Pendergast as he climbed into the passenger seat.

“I trust you have completed the task?”

Pendergast nodded.

“What happened?”

“As you predicted, your ‘source’ located me first. However, she was not as helpful as you apparently hoped.”

While this was not completely unexpected, Glinn had hoped she would be more responsive to a request by someone other than himself. He tried to read Pendergast’s expression, but the man’s face remained impassive.

“But she did give you something.”

“Yes. She allowed me to read some notes that she had written pertaining to her...experiences, but they were neither complete nor coherent. She indicated that directly speaking about it was too difficult.”

“Were you able to question her about the information in her notes?”

“I tried several interview techniques, but she resisted all of them. I believe there is something else motivating her refusal to discuss the case.”

“Fear?”

“Perhaps.”

“Did you impress upon her the urgency of the matter?”

“I mentioned the new case, but she was unmoved.” Pendergast turned to Glinn. “She seemed to think that this was some sort of plan to convince her to leave the mountain.”

Glinn struggled to hide his surprise. It was a little disconcerting that Tigg was still able to read him so well even though she had not been in direct contact with him for years.

“I had predicted that given the circumstances, Tigg would wish to take the initiative to assist with the case and would be willing to do so directly.”

“It appears we will not have her assistance. What is your new plan?”

Glinn handed Pendergast a thick folder, which Pendergast recognized as the case report from the Zoller murders.

“Use the information that you were able to obtain and look for connections between the two cases based on the evidence. I have spoken with the sheriff in Winstead, and he will be expecting you. To everyone else, you will be an academic doing research. I trust you to provide a plausible topic.” He pointed to a small battered briefcase and a larger but equally battered valise. “I’ve provided and arranged for everything else you will need to complete your ‘cover’.” Finally, he handed Pendergast another folder. “This is a list of possible connections between the two families, complied from census, tax, and school records from both Winstead and Pine Mountain. Although I am sure that the killer would not leave such an obvious trail, I trust the information could still be useful for profiling the victims.”

“Have there been any new developments in the present case?”

“Something has occurred that may be connected. Sheriff Jacob Darrow was murdered early yesterday morning.”

Pendergast raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“Someone set fire to one of his outbuildings while he was inside.”

“Given his reluctance to discuss the case, the connection seems unlikely.”

“The profile gave a high probability that the killer would eliminate anyone who might connect the two cases. Darrow was not given a high probability of being that person, but something might have happened to lead the killer to believe otherwise. The profile also indicates that the killer is keeping a very close watch on the people involved in the case. In retrospect, it is probably better that Tigg declined to participate in the investigation.”

Pendergast gazed at Glinn for a moment. Finally, he spoke.

“Tell me, Mr. Glinn, what is it about this young woman and this case that is so important to you? I questioned Tigg on the matter, and she informed me that I should ask you directly. You seem to be uncharacteristically involved in this case.”

“As you are well aware, where family is concerned, objectivity becomes difficult. It is a mistake I have learned from and avoided ever since in every other project I have undertaken. Unfortunately, once again I find myself in a situation where a personal connection has prompted my involvement in a project. This time I need to have it resolved.”

Pendergast thought for a moment, and then nodded slowly.

“I understand.”



Charlie Quinn woke with a start and then winced when he felt the pain in his neck and shoulders. He had fallen asleep in the chair he had moved to Brian Cambry’s room the night before, and now he was paying for it. Some guard I am, he thought. Sleeping on the job. I guess I really am getting old. He checked his watch. Damn, I better get moving. He rose from the chair and was going to go over to check on Cambry when the door opened. A young petite woman entered, pushing a cart in front of her. When she saw Quinn, she smiled.

“Good morning Officer Quinn. I’m Rebecca Jenkins. Dr. Aubrey said you were here keeping an eye on Mr. Cambry.” She looked over at Cambry and lowered her voice. “Do you really think someone tried to kill him?” Quinn nodded.

“It certainly looks that way. What else did Dr. Aubrey tell you?”

“He said we were not to talk to anyone outside the hospital about it, and that the press had been told Mr. Cambry is still unconscious. We’re supposed to report anyone who asks about him to the security officer, who will contact you.” She walked over to Cambry’s bed, checked his vital signs and IV, and made a few notes on his chart. She paused a moment and then turned to take a closer look at him.

“Is something wrong?” asked Quinn.

“No, I just thought for a moment he looked familiar. I guess I’ve seen so many patients that after awhile they do start to look the same.” She shook her head. “If you need anything, I’ll be making rounds.” She turned the cart around and pushed it out through the doorway, closing the door behind. Quinn was about to follow her when he heard a weak voice behind him.

“So this wasn’t an accident...”

Quinn turned and looked at Cambry. The man’s eyes were open, and still slightly glazed from the painkillers, but the fear in his expression was clear.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough. Tell me exactly what happened.”

“The brake line was cut. It looks like it was done while you were parked at Winstead Manor. Someone must have known why you came to see us and followed you.

A puzzled expression crossed Cambry’s face.

“The only one who knew I was coming was Amelia. Unless...” His expression darkened.

“Unless what?”

“Unless Darrow overhead our initial conversation and figured out what was going on. I knew he wanted the case closed and forgotten, but I never thought he’d go this far.”

“Darrow? Your old boss? It wasn’t him, trust me.”

“Why do you think that?”

Quinn sighed. “Because he’s dead. He was murdered just a few hours before your crash.”

Cambry’s eyes widened in surprise. Quinn heard the beeping of one of the monitors start to increase, and he gave Cambry a worried look.

“What happened?”

“Don’t worry about that right now. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Cambry closed his eyes. After a few minutes, the beeping of the monitor returned to it’s normal rhythm. Cambry opened his eyes again and looked at Quinn.

“Who would do something like this? And why?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” said Quinn, “but I intend to find out.”



Bonnie Mathies stood outside of the Methodist church waiting for her mother to finish speaking to the minister. Bonnie had intended to leave last night after dinner with her parents, but her father had insisted she spend the night. She understood that he was worried about her safety, but still some part of her was a little chagrined at his protectiveness. I guess Mom is right, she mused. You never stop being a parent. Then, because she had spent the night, her mother had then insisted that she attend church services. Church was something Bonnie had managed to avoid since she left home for college fifteen years ago, but her mother was insistent. She had even convinced Dad that “it would be wonderful to attend as a family”. During the service, Bonnie had passed the time by surreptitiously studying those around her. Most of it had provided idle amusement, but in studying her father she observed how truly haggard he looked. She had joked about it with him when she met him at work the previous evening, but in reality she was worried. She knew he was working on a particularly horrific case, and she had seen it mentioned in the papers, but she also knew better than to ask about it. His work was strictly off-limits as a topic of conversation in the Mathies’ household. Her mother joked that the rule was part of their pre-nuptial agreement, but Bonnie knew it was her father that really didn’t want to expose his family to the problems of police work. She had hoped to talk to him about it after the service, out of earshot from her mother, but before she could get him alone he had said he had to leave. He had given her a quick hug goodbye, wished her a safe trip home and headed to the office. Now she was waiting to say goodbye to her mother before making the trip back north. She really did need to get home. Monday was a teacher in-service day, but her section was not meeting for any discussion this session, so she was planning on spending the rest of the weekend grading papers and homework assignments. She had a stack on her desk that promised at least 8 hours worth of work. Whoever said teaching was an easy job has never actually taught, she thought. Or dealt with the paperwork. Finally, her mother finished chatting and walked over to Bonnie.

“Do you really have to leave so soon? Please, stay, we can go to the cafe for lunch. Maybe do a little shopping.”

“Sorry, Mom, I would love to, but I really do have a lot of work to do. Next month, I promise.”

“But Mrs. Iverson invited us. She’s such a lovely woman, and so active in the community. You know, she has a son, about your age, and—”

“Mother!”

“Oh, all right. I just want you to be happy, you know, and—”

“Mom, I’m fine, I don’t need you or Mrs. Iverson to play matchmaker. I need to go. I’ll call you next weekend.”

“Thank you, honey, for a wonderful visit. Please drive carefully. You know how much I hate that twisty back road you insist on taking. Why don’t you take the highway? I know it’s longer, but—”.

“Mom, I’m fine. I could drive it with my eyes closed.” She gave her mother a hug. “I’ll see you in a month.” She walked over to her car, climbed in and drove off, waving to her mother as she headed north out of town.



Half an hour later, Bonnie was driving along a narrow two-lane road that twisted through the far western foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. She really did love this road. There was never any traffic and some of the views from the various ridges were spectacular. It was usually a peaceful drive, and it gave her time to think and plan what she needed to do when she arrived at her apartment. She steered her car carefully around a particularly sharp curve, only slightly worried about the lack of a guardrail, and saw that just ahead another car was pulled off on the side of the road. The driver, dressed in a black rain suit, had the hood of the car open and was standing in front of the car, staring down at the engine. The dejected droop of the driver’s shoulders indicated that the problem was not easily fixable, and since Bonnie knew it was unlikely that anyone else would drive past for several hours, she pulled off to the other side of the road to offer assistance. As she approached, she was surprised when she recognized the driver.

“Hey there,” she called. “A little outside your territory, aren’t you?”

The driver turned toward her voice. “Ah, hello Bonnie! It’s so nice to see you. I guess you’re on your way back home from visiting your parents?”

“Yes, I am. What seems to be the problem?”

“I really have no idea. It just died on me. I can’t find a single thing wrong. To top it off, I left my cell phone at home, so I can’t call for a tow.”

“You probably couldn’t get a signal out here anyway, but let me try on mine.” She turned to walk back to her car. The sudden blow from behind knocked her to her knees. She knelt on the road, dizzy, trying to comprehend how such a thing could be happening. The second blow knocked her completely to the ground, and as the world faded to black, she had one last conscious thought.

I really should have listened to Mom...

The killer stared down at the unconscious woman lying on the road with a distinct feeling of elation. The plan had gone exactly as predicted. Poor, sweet, unselfish Bonnie, you always were willing to help those in need. Didn’t I once tell you it never pays to be a good Samaritan?

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