Spider Lake by Jeff Nania

Author:Jeff Nania
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jeff Nania

12

I skipped coffee altogether and walked back to the department. Len was in the office, and by the looks of things, he had been there a while.

“Hey, John. I was going to walk over to the bank. Want to go with me?”

“Sure, I’ll tag along.”

We walked two blocks and got to the door as they were opening for business. The bank president himself greeted us both and asked Len if he’d been doing any fishing.

“Len, I heard from a couple of people that they’re catching bluegills the size of your hand by the bucketload over on the Big Chip. I’m hoping to sneak out of here today to see if I can catch a few. My wife and I love a good pan of fresh bluegills. She fries them up coated with a cornmeal, beer, and Bisquick batter. Man, they are good. Anyway, what can I do for you today?”

“I need to get into my safe deposit box.”

“No problem. I’ll take you in myself.”

I waited for Len in the lobby. He came out in no more than a couple minutes carrying a green canvas zipper case that said “Bucket Boss” across the side.

Rawsom was waiting for us when we got back to the PD, and Len took us into the conference room. On the way, he told the woman at the front desk that he did not want to be bothered unless it was an emergency.

Len put the photos and other evidence on the table. “Look at whatever you need to look at boys. Ask me any questions you want, and I will try and answer them, but you know everything I know.”

The sheriff looked over the photos slowly, like he was committing each one to memory. Then he asked for a narrative on each set. Len explained that the woman in the photos was the missing federal agent. The gravity of the situation registered on the sheriff’s face.

The photo of Agent Chandler was flat on the table in front of three craning necks. There was little doubt it was the guy from the cabin who shot at us. It was also probably the same guy who killed those two people on the docks in Superior. I told them about the scars on his back and his ritual by the fire. No one said much; we didn’t have to. We needed to find him. He was a person of interest in at least three killings and arson—a menace to society. Scenarios of the possible encounters played out in each of our minds based on our experiences.

The photos of the cash transfer were somewhat unremarkable until I asked the sheriff if he knew anyone who wore a pinky ring like the one in the picture.

The sheriff said slowly, “I do know that Lance Brolan wore a pinky ring. He bought a ring like that from Ron Carver and showed it off. I’m not sure it’s the same one, but it looks similar.”

I spoke up, “The only reason someone would take pictures

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