Page 37 of Fatal Fame
Fire Marshal Davidson approached as Noah climbed out of his truck, his soot-stained gear and grim expression telling the story before he spoke. "Started getting calls around 9:15 PMfrom residents down the mountain who could see the glow. By the time we got here, the vehicle was fully involved along with the cabin."
Noah studied the burned-out shell of the van, noting the way the fire had consumed everything combustible while leaving the metal frame twisted into abstract sculpture. "Any indication this was accidental?"
"Not sure but I don’t think so. We will have K9 out here to detect accelerant. But I get a sense someone doused this thing and lit it up like a bonfire. You can smell the gasoline residue even through all the other burned materials."
"And Pierce or his team?"
"There's no sign of any occupants, no remains, no indication that anyone was inside when it went up. Local PD called the hotel where they are staying at. The team is still there. It’s Pierce who isn’t. They said he’d received a threat only hours ago."
Noah felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. Bodies in vehicle fires usually left some trace—dental remains, bone fragments, jewelry that survived the flames. The complete absence of human evidence suggested either that the occupants had escaped before the fire started, or that they'd been removed before the vehicle was torched.
"Witnesses?"
"A resident along the access road reported seeing a white van drive past. Said it was moving fast, like someone was in a hurry." Davidson consulted his notebook. "But it never came back down, and nobody reported seeing any other vehicles in the area."
McKenzie approached from the perimeter of the scene, his flashlight beam dancing across ground that showed tire tracks and footprints in the muddy soil. "Ay, Laddie, we've got another problem. Found some evidence that suggests this wasn't just an abandoned vehicle torching."
He led Noah to a spot about fifty feet from the burned van, where the beam of his flashlight illuminated dark stains on the ground that looked suspiciously like blood. "Could be from an animal, but the pattern suggests human bleeding. And there's signs of a struggle—disturbed earth, broken vegetation, like someone was dragged or carried."
Noah crouched beside the stains, studying them with the forensic eye that had been trained by years of processing crime scenes. The blood was still relatively fresh, probably deposited within the past few hours. The distribution pattern suggested someone who'd been injured and either fallen or been placed on the ground before being moved elsewhere.
"Get crime scene techs on this,” Noah said. "I want photographs, measurements, blood samples for DNA analysis. And expand the search perimeter—if someone was injured here, there might be additional evidence scattered around the site."
13
Dawn crept over the Adirondack wilderness with reluctant light that seemed to acknowledge the violence that had stained the night. Noah had been at the scene for hours, watching crime scene technicians process evidence while the darkness gradually gave way to gray morning. The smell of smoke and accelerant wafted in the cool air, a reminder of the deliberate destruction that had claimed both Landry's vehicle and any hope of finding him unharmed.
What daylight revealed was worse than what they'd discovered in the darkness. Beyond the twisted metal skeleton of Pierce's rental van lay the complete ruins of what had once been a cabin. Only the brick chimney rose intact from the devastation, pointing toward the overcast sky like an accusing finger. The stone fireplace stood among the ashes, its hearth cold and blackened, surrounded by the charred remains of what had been someone's retreat from the world.
"Jesus," McKenzie muttered, approaching with a fresh cup of coffee that steamed in the morning chill. "Whoever did this wanted to make sure nothing survived."
Noah studied the expanded crime scene, noting how the cabin's destruction changed the entire scope of their investigation. This wasn't just about Pierce's disappearance, someone had eliminated an entire location, removing any evidence of what might have happened inside those walls.
"Indeed," Noah said, pulling out his phone. "We need to know who owned the cabin and why it became a target."
Fire Marshal Davidson emerged from the ruins, his gear even more soot-stained than it had been during the night. "Got that confirmation from our dogs. Both fires were definitely arson," he reported. "Same accelerant pattern, same methodology."
"Any connection between the cabin and Pierce's van?"
"The timing suggests coordination. Both fires started within minutes of each other, which means either one person working very efficiently or multiple people working together. There is no burn trace between the vehicle and home which suggests whoever did this, doused the cabin and then the vehicle or the other way around. A neighbor says the place was owned by Ralph Eriks."
“That’s one of our officers,” McKenzie said.
“You got a number for him?” Noah asked.
Noah felt his investigative instincts engage as he processed the implications. Coordinated arson suggested planning and resources that went beyond simple intimidation. Someone had wanted to eliminate Pierce and destroy any evidence of where he'd been taken.
A moment later he dialed, knowing that identifying the connection was crucial.
"Eriks," the reply came on the other end.
"Ralph, it's Noah Sutherland with BCI. Sorry to call so early, but…"
There was a pause that lasted long enough for Noah to wonder if the call had dropped.
"What’s the problem?"
"On Cascade Trail Road. A remote property, about three miles into the forest. Brick chimney, stone fireplace. That yours?"
