From farther back in the house came a noise. Nick held his breath. It sounded like whimpering. His blood turned to ice. He scanned the man’s empty hands, checked his waistband for the bulge of a gun. He was taller and heavier than Nick, and from what they had just seen on the trail, faster. But at least Nick couldn’t see any weapons.
“Wait a second,” the man said. “Do you know Mallory?”
That must be the name of the girl he was holding captive. The one who was whimpering from whatever he had done to her. But what was the right answer?
The right answer, Nick figured, would be whatever kept the guy talking to him. Because as long as he was talking to him, he couldn’t be hurting the girl any further.
“I do know Mallory.” He took a deep breath “And you can’t get away with what you’re doing.”
“Oh, no?” The runner took a step forward so the two of them were chest to chest. “You don’t understand how things work. I’m the one who makes the rules here. I suggest you shut your mouth and leave right now.”
“Or what?” Nick managed to say with a tongue that was suddenly as dry as a desert.
“Or I’ll be forced to do something neither of us will like very much.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw the man’s right hand begin to rise, the fingers curling into a fist.
It seemed like a good idea to duck, so with a sudden lurch, he did. But they were standing so close that his temple smacked right into the middle of the guy’s face. He felt the man’s nose give with a sickening crack.
With a shout, the guy staggered backward, blood fountaining from his nose. He put his hands up and pulled them back, staring at the bright crimson with mingled amazement and anger.
“You broke my nose!” he said as he grabbed the shoulders of Nick’s jacket.
And just at that moment, three police cars converged on the house, their red and blue lights splitting the night, their sirens deafening. In seconds, officers were out and crouched behind their doors, guns drawn, yelling orders.
A minute later, both Nick and the runner were on their knees on the sharp gravel of the driveway, their hands laced behind their heads. Blood was still dripping from the man’s nose. An unmarked car pulled up, lights flashing in the grille, and Detective Harriman got out.
Alexis hurried up to him and began to explain. “That guy’s the one who did it.” She pointed. “The runner we saw that day. He’s the real killer. He must have strangled them with his dog’s leash. And there’s a girl in the house that he’s holding captive.”
“I don’t know who in the hell this chick is,” the runner said, his voice oddly nasal because of his broken nose, “but she’s crazy. Don’t listen to her.”
But Detective Harriman did. “Captive?” he echoed as he drew his gun. He quickly conferred with a couple of cops and then the three of them went in the house together, guns pointed into the darkness as the men darted around corners and leapfrogged each other.
Nick’s heart was pounding in his ears. What would they find? Was the girl even still alive?
A few minutes later, the cops came outside with her. Nick was relieved to see that she was walking under her own power. It was full dark now, but even in the shadows, he could see the silver tracks of her tears.
The girl—Mallory?—was alive. Alive, and as far as Nick could see, uninjured, although she was shivering and hugging herself. Nick could breathe again. She was alive and safe. One of the cops shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Suddenly she spun away from him, darted over to the runner, and slapped him across the face. And then the cops were pulling her off as she screamed insults at him.
CHAPTER 38
TUESDAY
OBSERVATIONS YOU MISSED
From the introduction to A BIRDING JOURNAL:
USING YOUR JOURNAL
Take notes on what the specimen was doing as you observed it. Record general behaviors and specific reactions to new events, such as the appearance of a predator or how it interacts with others. Note large actions such as preening, flight patterns, and foraging habits, as well as small movements such as tail bobs, head cocks, or wing stretches.
Record the specimen’s appearance, including the brilliance of plumage, any peculiar markings, and any remarkable or unusual features such as missing feathers or signs of illness.
To make the most of your journal, review it regularly. Studying your notes can help you see what observations you missed so you will know what to look for the next time you see a bird. Comparing your notes on similar specimens can help you learn to accurately identify them, and over time you will learn more than you’ve ever dreamed.
Your detailed notes can be a way to enjoy sightings over and over as you study your observations and remember exactly the circumstances of each sighting and what made it special.
SPECIES NAME
Homeless, also known as street people, hobos, bums, drifters.
INDIVIDUAL SPECIMEN
Tiffany Yee, aged 17.
STUDY SPECIFICATIONS
This 17-year-old female, who had been homeless for approximately eight weeks, had a tracking program covertly installed on her cell phone on November 1 and was then returned to the study area in downtown Portland, Oregon. Her movements and daily activity were monitored until November 12, using GPS coordinates provided by the tracking program. Once her position had been determined, it was possible, on a few occasions, to take advantage of topography and surreptitiously photograph her.
For the purpose of moving her, the subject was immobilized with gamma-hydroxybutyric acid administered orally in Kahlua and cream. Once study was completed, subject was euthanized.
STUDY FINDINGS:
APPEARANCE
Approximately five foot five, 130 pounds. Chinese-American, with light brown skin. Hair straight, approximately 33 cm in length, a beautiful glossy black. Typically dressed in jeans, black boots, and either a red sweater or a gray turtleneck under a black North Face hip-length coat. Carried belongings in a pink Hello Kitty! backpack. Despite poor diet, appeared healthy, except for occasional bouts of coughing.
HABITAT
Nocturnal: Spent nights at Outside In, Porch Light Shelter, the Red Cross Warming Center, the bottom level of a parking garage on Fourth Avenue, and occasionally in parked cars or men’s homes. The proportion of time that subject was active in the middle of the night was inversely correlated with the nightly minimum temperature.
Diurnal: Spent days walking in downtown Portland, with occasional forays into Portland County Library, McDonald’s, and Pioneer Courthouse Square.
FEEDING HABITS
Most meals provided by service agencies. When left to own devices, preferred high-fat, high-salt, high-starch foods such as bread, potato chips, cookie dough, and French fries. Used a variety of illegal drugs as well as cigarettes and alcohol.
BEHAVIOR
When not sleeping at a shelter, did not congregate with other homeless on a regular basis. Frequently spent time at Portland County Library, especially when daytime temperature dropped below 40. Had a distinctive walk, fast, with head down, not making eye contact. Occasionally panhandled, stole unattended items, or broke into cars to steal small electronics and/or sleep.
VOCALIZATION
Quiet, soft-spoken, with good vocabulary.
SPECIES NAME
Teenager.
INDIVIDUAL SPECIMEN
Ruby McClure, age 16.
STUDY SPECIFICATIONS
This 16-year-old female was first observed on November 8. Her movements and daily activity have been monitored since November 13, using GPS coordinates provided by the tracking program incorporated in a unit disguised as a thumb drive and hidden in subject’s backpack.
STUDY FINDINGS:
APPEARANCE
Approximately five foot four, 120 pounds, Caucasian with milk-white skin. Hair is straight, approximately 60 cm in length, and an unusual and striking true red. Dresses plainly and practically in neutral-colored sw
eaters, jeans, Nikes, and a navy blue parka.
HABITAT
Nocturnal: Spends nights at familial home on NW Pettygrove.
Diurnal: Weekdays are spent at Lincoln High School. Evenings and weekends are often dedicated to outings or classes with Portland County Search and Rescue in a three-county area.
FEEDING HABITS
Healthy diet. Is almost always chewing gum.
BEHAVIOR
Awkward, intense, fixated on certain topics. Does not make much eye contact.
VOCALIZATION
Can be loud and insistent when interested in topic.
CHAPTER 39
TUESDAY
CRY FOR ALL THE GIRLS
They had done it! She and Nick had caught the killer and saved a girl! Even Detective Harriman had gruffly thanked them—before lecturing them about the importance of leaving things to the professionals. Then the police had briefly questioned both of them and taken them home.
Alexis should have been relieved, even happy, as she walked up the stairs to her apartment. But she just felt shaky and empty. The adrenaline had worn off, and now she barely had the energy to lift her feet. Even though they might have saved future homeless girls and women, her mom was still missing. Maybe dead. She hadn’t even been able to find Raina before she met Nick in Forest Park. Who knew how many bodies the runner was responsible for?
Alexis couldn’t think of anywhere else to look for her mom, any other way to find her. What if her mom never came back? Could she make it on her own?
In the short term, the answer to that was easy. She had been forging her mom’s signature on the disability check for years, just as she had been forging it on anything else important, like the application for SAR.
But eventually some adult was going to figure out that Alexis was alone, and then what?
She let herself into the apartment, so lost in thought that at first she didn’t realize someone was already there. But a tall, thin figure was standing in the kitchen.
“Mommy?” Alexis said in a voice so high-pitched and soft even she didn’t recognize it.
Her mom turned and smiled. “Oh, honey, you’re home.”
Alexis couldn’t speak. Instead she wrapped her arms around her mom so tight they both lost their balance and bumped into the counter. She pressed her nose against her mom’s neck. It had been months, maybe even years, since Alexis had held her mom so close, but she almost couldn’t believe that she was real. That she was alive.
Finally she pulled back. “Where were you?”
Her mom smiled ruefully. “I got picked up because the cops thought I was drunk. I don’t really remember much about what happened next, but I guess they decided I wasn’t drunk, I was crazy. So I ended up in a locked hospital ward while they evaluated me. But they can only hold you so long, and I wasn’t about to let them put me away. Not when I needed to get back to my baby girl. So I was as sly as a fox.” She grinned and laid her finger against her lips. “I knew they might take you away if I whispered one word about you, so I kept quiet.”
Her mom was back. Her real mom. In spirit as well as body. On her feet were cheap white tennis shoes, and she was dressed in purple sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt that hung on her skinny frame. Her nails were clean and short. Her eyes clear. But a tic flicked underneath her left eye, and she kept smacking her lips.
“So you’re taking your meds again, Mom?”
“They gave me a lot of pills. A lot. Some of them new.” She pointed at a crumpled brown paper bag.
Alexis opened it. It was full of paperwork and pill bottles. Even more pills than her mom normally took. Drugs for depression, for anxiety, for delusions, for insomnia. Some you took with food, some you took on an empty stomach. All of them had to be taken at set intervals, although some couldn’t be taken together. How her mom was supposed to continue on this regimen without someone to supervise it was beyond Alexis. And that assumed she continued to be willing to take them at all.
Her mom licked her lips again and then opened her mouth, revealing thick ropes of saliva. “You know I don’t like the way they make me feel. So slow. Slow and tired.”
“But you have to take them, Mom. You have to. Promise me. Because”—Alexis’s voice broke—“because I can’t be on my own like that again. I can’t. Not knowing where you are! Thinking you might be dead!”
The events of the last few days caught up with her. Her legs felt shaky. She sat down on the couch, put her head in her hands, and started to cry. Cry for all the girls and women they hadn’t saved.
And a few tears for herself.
CHAPTER 40
WEDNESDAY
LIFE LIST
The house phone was ringing when Ruby got home from school. She had been distracted all day, thinking about how Alexis and Nick had caught the runner and saved the girl. Her only regret was that she hadn’t been there. Last night, she had barely slept. Once her parents were in bed, she kept checking websites, waiting for the story to go live. But so far, the police were keeping a lid on it.
When Ruby answered the phone, it was her mom.
“Your father and I just met with that Jon Partridge. From Search and Rescue. When we called to tell him we were pulling you out, he asked if we could talk.”
“Yes?” Ruby said slowly, not daring to let herself hope.
“He told us that you’ve been acing all your tests. And he said you’re becoming a real asset to SAR.” Her mom’s voice was filled with some emotion Ruby couldn’t name. Was it—pride? “He said you actually stopped one of the other volunteers from touching some important evidence. And he said they needed you.”
“Uh-huh.” This wasn’t news to Ruby, but it clearly was to her mom.
“He also said volunteering for SAR was excellent preparation for being a doctor, especially working in emergency medicine.”
“I think I would be good at that,” Ruby said. It was 100 percent true. She pressed her lips together so she didn’t add that she had also decided it was not what she wanted to do.
“So we worked out an agreement. SAR won’t call you in if they’re recovering the body of a murder victim or even looking for crime scene evidence if it’s gruesome in any way. You’re only sixteen. We don’t want you exposed to things like that.”
“Okay,” Ruby said slowly. Was her mom saying…?
“And you have to clear it with us if you’re asked to leave school.”
“Okay.” She was nodding her head as if her mom could see her.
“And we can change our minds at any time if we feel you’re getting too obsessed.”
“Okay.”
“Aren’t you happy, Ruby?” her mom said, and only then was Ruby certain she was back in SAR.
“It’s what I want most in the world.” Emotion thickened her voice. “Thank you. I won’t let you and Dad down.”
“We just want you to be happy, Ruby. Happy and healthy.”
“So can I go to class tonight?”
Her mom sighed. “Your keys and cell phone are in my underwear drawer.”
“Is it okay if I leave a little early?”
“Why?” Her mom drew out the word, as if she were suspicious.
“Because the swifts are back at Chapman, and I want to go see them.”
Her mom let out a laugh. “Of course, honey. Enjoy.”
Ruby ran to get her cell phone so she could tell Alexis and Nick the good news.
* * *
It was just an hour until sunset, when the swifts would roost. Every space along Northwest Portland’s narrow streets was taken. Cars were even parked in loading zones and in front of driveways.
“This had better be worth it,” Nick said as Ruby drove in ever-widening circles, trying to find a parking space. “Because we are going to have quite a hike.”
“It might be the last chance to see them. Ever,” Ruby said. “Since they’re so late this year, who knows if they’ll come again? So this might be your once-in-a-lifetime chance.” It had been a shock to learn that ne
ither Nick nor Alexis had ever come here to watch the swifts. She finally spotted a tiny parking space and backed expertly into it, ignoring the honks of the car behind her. They were actually closer to Forest Park than to Chapman Elementary.
Nick was still complaining as they got out of the car. Then he tipped his head back and his mouth fell open. The sky overhead was thick with birds, swirling like innumerable flecks of black pepper. “There must be hundreds,” Nick said. “Thousands.”
“At least,” Ruby agreed. “Chapman is one of the largest known roosting sites.”
They joined the crowds on the sidewalk walking toward the school grounds. Ruby was used to seeing pedestrians looking down, distracted by their smart phones. It was weird to see so many people nearly running into telephone poles, signs, and each other because they were looking up. All of them taking in the spectacle of the dark whirling clouds of birds.
“Have you seen that movie The Birds?” Nick asked. His shoulders hunched as if he expected an imminent attack. “They wouldn’t hurt us, would they?”
“That was a movie.” Ruby tried not to sound impatient. Next he would be asking her if zombies were real. “A movie based on a short story, except all Hitchcock took from it was the idea of birds attacking people. Don’t worry. The birds have a lot more to fear from us than we do from them. In fact, we’re the ones who’ve destroyed their habitat and made the world so hot, which is what is probably screwing up their migration.” She thought of a joke. “If they ever did turn on us, you could say it was the swifts coming home to roost. Get it? Like when they say the chickens come home to roost?”
“Ha ha,” Nick said, but Ruby wasn’t certain he really thought it was funny.
Hundreds of people were gathered on the school grounds. Some stood, others sat on camp chairs or folding aluminum lawn chairs. A few families had spread out blankets and were picnicking despite how cold the ground must be. All of them had their heads tilted back, their faces lit by the salmon-colored glow of the setting sun. People pointed fingers and cameras. Kids chased each other through the crowd. Dogs on leashes barked.