“I’m bank
ing my life on it.” Jenna’s gaze drifted over him for a split second before returning to the Blythes.
Kane took in the size of both men: The older man would not fit the description of being strong and mobile but the son was a muscular man in his late thirties or early forties. Colter Barry had not mentioned seeing two men at the scene of the crime and he would imagine these men did just about everything together. “Joseph fits the description Barry gave us, but it’s his father who has the reputation of being crazy.”
“Well, Mr. Blythe?” Jenna’s expression had turned into exasperation. “If you have something to tell us, spit it out; we have other people to visit this afternoon.”
“Nope, we haven’t seen anyone.” Brayden Blythe moved out onto the porch, his attention focused on Duke. “But I’ll trade you for the dog.”
Kane jumped in before Jenna had time to react, hoping he might get a chance to see inside the house. “What are you offering? Weapons?”
“You wouldn’t.” Jenna’s horrified expression surprised him. “No way.”
“Trust me.” Kane swung down from his horse and led his mount toward Joseph. “I’m always looking for a new weapon. Would you mind holding my horse? He is a bit skittish around the sheriff’s mare.”
“Yeah, Joe will take care of your horse. We have weapons and stuff. Come inside and I’ll show you.”
Kane moved through the door and ducked his head. The low ceilings closed around him in a claustrophobic nightmare. Inside, the rank stench of rotting flesh overlaid with unwashed male and garbage burned his nostrils. With every one of his senses on high alert, he peered into the dim room, waiting a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the light before following the old man. He scanned the area for a booby trap, keeping one ear open for Joseph to creep up behind him.
Avoiding the desire to reach for his flashlight, he batted away flypaper hanging all through the house like Christmas decorations and moved through piles of skins, stacked up and tied with string. Old barrels filled with parts of antlers were against one wall and a row of jars containing teeth sat on a bookcase. The only sign of comfort came in the form of two old sofas beside the hearth. Shoot, he’d been inside tanks that offered more comfort. Filthy cushions on the seats sank low to the floor before a coffee table piled high with dirty dishes. Cockroaches scattered, making a rushing sound, moving from one garbage-inspired décor theme to another. The clutter continued through into the kitchen. For an ex-military man, Brayden Blythe sure was messy.
The kitchen at least had windows, where light tried to force its way through the grime. Kane’s attention went to a line of pegs beside the back door. Three backpacks in a range of colors and styles hung in a neat row, and beneath them boots of various sizes. “You married? Any other kids?”
“Nope.” Blythe indicated with one dirty finger to the backpacks. “They’re mine, found abandoned in the forest. I didn’t steal nothin’. I hoped someone would offer a reward or somethin’ and I posted a found notice in the general store window, all legal like.”
Kane noticed the man’s belligerent expression. “Can you tell me exactly where you found them and when?”
“Nope, last one was over a year ago.” Blythe smiled a yellow grin. “Could have been on one of fifty or so trails, and my memory ain’t so good these days.”
Kane kept his back to the counter, eyeing the impressive rows of weapons taking up one entire wall. Below they had stacked boxes of ammunition off the floor on a pile of cinder blocks. “You went through them, right?”
“Yeah, didn’t find much—clothes most times and food, no IDs.” Blythe screwed up his face. “We didn’t touch nothin’. People get lost up here or the bears or cats get them. I didn’t steal nothin’.”
Kane shrugged. “I didn’t say you did.” He moved closer to the backpacks and examined them. As far as he could determine, the bags had no blood spatter and he had no evidence for a search warrant to seize them as evidence. Although, if Blythe gave them to him willingly and signed a statement, any evidence they found would be admissible. He waved a hand toward the bags. “Although they interest me, what do you want for them?”
“The bloodhound?” Blythe looked hopeful then shook his head. “Nope, I’d have to sweeten the deal. Your dog would be worth a deal of money.”
“Well, you don’t have anything I’m looking for in weapons, if that is all you have?” Kane kept one hand resting on the butt of his pistol as Blythe still had a firm grip on his rifle.
“That’s all.” Blythe chewed on his bottom lip. “Shame, I really like your dog.”
“Have you seen or heard anything unusual over the last week or so?” Kane watched his reaction but the old man’s attention span seemed to drift in and out.
“There is always somethin’ going on in the forest.” Blythe gave Kane a long, considering look. “I seen things out there. Heard whispers and screams that ain’t no cat. Found a thigh bone all chewed up one day. Joe, he brings home the bags when he is out huntin’ squirrel.” He lowered his voice. “He seen Charlie out there hiding in the woods, waiting to ambush him. He’s a smart kid—he doubled back and we locked up the place and kept watch all night. Heard shots and screams, the bastard took down one of ours. He’s out there waitin’. You need to watch your back.”
Kane nodded. The old man was reliving his time in the Vietnam War. “Charlie” was derived from the radio code, Victor Charlie or VC for the Viet Cong enemy soldiers. Perhaps Joseph had seen the Asian man before he was brutally murdered. Or was Joseph the killer? He needed to get back to Jenna so he pulled two fifty-dollar bills from his wallet. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks for the backpacks and the shoes. I’ll need you to sign a statement saying you handed over the bags willingly and without duress. Take it or leave it. The dog stays with me.”
“Done.” The man spat on his hand and held it out with a grin.
Kane looked at the rotting yellow teeth and slapped the bills into the man’s hand, avoiding the spittle. “Thanks. I’ll write up a statement in my notebook for you to sign.”
“Sure, when we’re done, send Joe in and we’ll throw them in a sack and bring them outside.” He opened the door to a huge refrigerator and pulled out a beer. “Beer?”
Kane made sure to take note of the contents of the fridge, relieved no body parts sat on the shelves. “Ah, no thanks, I’m on duty.”
Business done, Kane went to the back door and flung it open, glad of the fresh air. “I’ll go out this way. I need the exercise.” He escaped from the cabin and took a good look around the ramshackle buildings.
Apart from the goats and a few chickens, nothing seemed out of place, and the disgusting smell seemed to be coming from the house. He wandered around to the front of the cabin and noticed Jenna’s pinched expression. After nodding to her, he walked to Joseph. “Your father wants help carrying out the rucksacks and boots. Nice place. Does it have a root cellar?”