Wedding Rearrangement: 7/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
Lois hesitated and then lifted her chin. "You're right."
"I am?" he said. It wasn't like Lois to give in on any argument.
"Yes, you are. We've got more important things to do than sit around and blame ourselves for things that can't be changed. The thing that I'm wondering about is that you say these things -- your powers cutting in unexpectedly -- happened when you were first getting them, too. I think that means they're really starting to come back now."
He'd heard that changing the subject was a feminine trait, but Lois definitely raised the talent to a new high, Clark thought. He blinked at her for a second. "I never thought of that. I guess I'll have to be ready for the others to start kicking in unexpectedly, too."
"Exactly," Lois said. "Now, back to the plan. We're going to find where the guy and the little girl are camping and you're going to use your powers to eavesdrop. Then, when we find out what's going on we'll decide what else we need to do. If anything."
As a plan, it left a good deal up in the air but Clark had to agree that it made sense. "Okay. Come on."
**********
And now, Part 7:
It was almost an hour later that they approached the last of the camping spots connected by the narrow trail. The first campsite had been occupied by a noisy family of two adults and five children, all under thirteen, and a large hairy beast that was, theoretically at least, a dog. It had barked noisily at them and Clark had apologized profusely, explaining that they must have taken the wrong branch from the trail.
The second spot had held a small camper and Clark had pulled Lois away quickly. The two persons inside were newlyweds, he'd explained briefly, and were busy getting better acquainted. It had taken Lois a moment to decipher his code and then she had laughed.
But this campsite held another small camper, a battered one that had seen better days. The little girl was nowhere to be seen but a tall man was sitting on a log in front of a campfire, while an iron skillet that was perched precariously over the flames sizzled loudly and gave off the scent of frying bacon. As they watched, he leaned forward to break an egg into the pan.
Lois put her lips against Clark's ear. "Well?" she whispered. She kept her voice low, trusting that the warm breeze that was rustling the shrubbery and brushing her face and the sounds of the night insects would muffle her whisper.
Clark lowered his glasses, squinting at the camper.
"She's in the camper," he said after a moment. "Alone."
"What's she doing?"
"Just sitting on the bench by the table." He frowned. "I think she's crying."
The lone man was fiddling with a radio now, Lois saw. Little bursts of static came to her ears. Finally, it seemed, he found a station for he set the radio down on the ground and reached forward to stir the contents of the pan.
"What --" Lois was beginning.
"Sh!" Clark was leaning forward, his head tilted in exactly the pose that Lois had seen many times at the Daily Planet. Superman, she thought. He was listening to something that she couldn't hear. She fell silent, biting her lip and watching his face.
After nearly a minute Clark took her arm, pulling her back a short distance from the clearing. "He's listening to a local news report," he said softly. "They're reporting that there's a statewide search for a girl who was snatched two days ago in Missouri. Her name is Bethany Ann Gordon. They think the guy who has her is a sex offender who was released from prison a few weeks ago." She thought she could see him frowning in the faint starlight that sifted through the trees. "I remember hearing something about it at the time. I didn't pay a lot of attention because of what was going on in Metropolis. His name was David Ferdinand Waters. There was a lot of controversy but it turned out they had to let him go because there wasn't any legal way to keep him in prison."
"Is that him?" Lois asked.
"I don't know. He might just be listening to the news."
"Now would be a good time to have your mom's cell phone," Lois said. "We never did make that call." She glanced back in the direction of the clearing. The light of the campfire was barely visible. "I guess the cops are asking for tips, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Any descriptions?"
He nodded, obviously still listening. "Bethany is seven years old with brown hair and eyes. When she disappeared she was wearing a T-shirt and...." he paused, tilting his head again in the direction of the muffled voice issuing from the radio. "...Blue shorts."
"That's good enough for me," Lois said. "We have to do something."
"He might be armed," Clark said. "If it's them he probably is, actually." She could see him frowning in the dimness. "One of us needs to stay here to keep an eye on things, and the other should go back and call the police."
"I'll stay here," Lois said at once. "You can move faster in the dark and you know the area better."
Clark hesitated. "I don't like to leave you here, alone," he said. "If that's really Waters, he's dangerous."
"Clark, I'll just watch. If he tries to ... hurt her, I'll think of something to distract him. Hurry up." She glanced back in the direction of the firelight. "The sooner you go, the sooner you'll get back."
Under less serious circumstances the indecision in his expression might have made her laugh. "You'll just watch? Promise?"
"I promise -- unless I have to do something. Go on!"
There really wasn't any other choice and she knew he knew it. "I'll be right back. *Please* be careful." The last sentence was spoken in a whisper but was no less heartfelt for all that.
"I will. Go!"
**********
Robert Jackson, the day manager of the Smallville Motor Court, hesitated, glancing nervously back and forth between Rachel Harris and Wesley Reid, Smallville's Coroner. He seemed unable to look directly at the sheet-covered form on the long table in front of him. He swallowed convulsively. "Are you sure about this, Sheriff?"
"It's okay Bob. All we need is for you to see if you recognize him," Rachel told him soothingly, for the fifth time although she could hardly blame him. Violent crime in Smallville was normally limited to a fistfight at the local bar on Saturday night -- not murder. Wesley Reid had already told her that the man had been dead for at least seven or eight hours -- maybe more. Whoever had killed him had picked a good spot to dump the body. Even Maisie might not have spotted him if it hadn't been for her compulsively neat habit of walking around the dumpster for a final pickup of trash before she closed down for the evening. "He's not from Smallville, so the chances are good that he was staying at your motel."
The man gulped again, looking slightly green around the edges. "But -- murder! I'm not sure --"
"We're not going to show you anything but his face," Rachel said. She nodded to Reid. "Let's get this over with."
The Coroner gently drew the sheet down, revealing the victim's features. Jackson gulped and took a step backwards.
"Do you recognize him?" Rachel asked.
The manager swallowed a fourth time but leaned forward, obviously determined to put the unpleasant episode behind him. Then he paused, and Rachel saw him frown.
"*Do* you recognize him?" she asked again.
Slowly, Jackson nodded. "I think so. I think he's one of the reporters that checked in a couple of days ago, looking for the Kents."
Rachel produced a plastic bag, containing one of several items that her deputies had retrieved from the dumpster behind which the body had been found. "We found some things thrown into the dumpster. Is this key from your place?"
Jackson took the plastic bag, examining the key with the corn-shaped tag dangling from its chain. "Yes, it is. We're the only motel in the area that uses this kind of tag for our room keys. Room 24A --" He glanced quickly once more at the murdered man. "I can check to see the name of the person we rented that room to. Is there a phone here?"
The Coroner nodded at Rachel. "Use the one in my office." He covered the victim's face with the sheet once more.
Moments later Jackson was listening to the voice of the night manager of Smallville Motor Court. "You're sure? All right. Thank you." He set down the receiver. "The room was rented by a Benjamin Maher, of the Topeka Intelligencer. The maid reports that there's no one in the room, and his rental car isn't there."
"Maher?" It took Rachel several seconds to recall where she had heard the name before. It was the name of the reporter that had found the Kents' farm this morning.
The manager was nodding. "Benjamin Maher," he repeated.
"All right," Rachel said. "I guess that's all. You can go. Thank you for your help."
The manager had barely closed the door behind him when Rachel picked up the phone and dialed the number for Jonathan and Martha Kent. The time was nearly nine-thirty and she knew the Kents kept early hours because of the need to be up before the sun, but the back of her neck was crawling. This couldn't be a coincidence, she thought. Ben Maher had found the Kent farm and now he was dead.
Clark Kent and Lois Lane knew that he had located the farm but somehow Rachel couldn't see either of them killing the unfortunate newsman just to prevent him from leading the others of his profession to the place. But she'd had a warning this afternoon that someone who would have no such compunction was on his way to Smallville.
"Hello?" Jonathan Kent's voice emerged from the receiver.
"Jonathan, it's Rachel," she said. "What time did Clark and Lois leave the farm?"
"Hi Rachel. Is something wrong?" Jonathan asked.
"Maybe. What time did Clark and Lois leave the farm?"
"Around one thirty, I think. Just a minute." His voice became fainter. "It's Rachel. She wants to know what time Lois and Clark left."
There was a murmur in the background. "Rachel?" Jonathan's voice was suddenly louder again. "You still there?"
"Right here," she said.
"Martha thinks it was about two. Why?"
"Do you know where they were going?"
"Sure," Jonathan said. "They were headed for Domino Lake. They wanted to go somewhere out of sight for awhile so they decided to go camping. What's going on?"
"Maybe nothing," Rachel said. "What time did Clark talk to that reporter?"
"I think he said it was about noon. Why? What's the matter?"
"Have you had any contact with them since they left?"
"No. They have Martha's cell phone, though."
Rachel considered that. "Could you give them a call?" she asked finally. "Just to see if they're all right -- and then call me back at this number." She read off the number on the phone.
"All right. But what's wrong?"
Rachel hesitated. "Maher is dead," she said finally. "At least we think it's him."
"Dead!"
"Yeah. I'm a little worried about Clark and Lois. It seems a little too coincidental that this happened just now. Call them, all right?"
"All right." Jonathan Kent's voice had taken on a worried edge. "What are you thinking? Clark and Lois wouldn't hurt anyone."
"I know that," Rachel said. "I'm thinking about the call from that Metropolis police inspector this afternoon."
"Oh. All right, I'll call them right now."
**********
Jonathan Kent hung up. Martha set down the cordless phone that she had lifted to her ear during the conversation and for several seconds they stared at each other. "What on Earth do you suppose --" Martha began.
"I don't know but we'd better call them," Jonathan said. He quickly punched in the number of the cell phone. The phone rang five times and then cut to the recorded message for the voice mail. He disconnected, waited for thirty seconds and tried again.
The result was the same. He switched off the phone. "It's on but no one's answering," he said.
"Maybe they left it in the car," Martha suggested. "There's any number of reasons they might not answer. They're engaged, after all."
Jonathan shrugged. "Maybe. I hope that's all it is but I'd better call Rachel back." As he spoke, he was punching in the number she had given him.
Rachel answered on the first ring. "Rachel Harris."
"No one's answering the phone," Jonathan told her. "I tried twice. I hope they're all right."
"So do I," Rachel said. "I'll call you back if I find out anything else. Did they say where they'd be camping?"
"Uh -- yeah. Clark said they'd camp over in the one of the sites off of the Lakeside Trail if he could find an empty one."
"Okay," Rachel said. "That's about a twenty-minute drive from Pepper. I'll see if I can get somebody there to check it out for me. I'll call you back if I find out anything." She hung up and Jonathan was left listening to the dial tone.
**********
Clark knew this area of the Domino Lake Campgrounds as well as he did the landscape around Smallville. He cut through the woods for a short distance until he reached the trail that led down to the Convenience Center and broke into a trot. His eyesight had recovered a good deal since the night, two nights ago, when he and Lois had been threading their way alongside a stream high in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, escaping a pair of searchers from LexCorp. Lois had been right, he thought. His powers might be taking their time about it but they were coming back. If only they would hurry up a little. It would be really convenient right now if Superman were able to put in an appearance.
But it was obvious that, although his powers were slowly returning, they weren't up to Superman level yet. Leaves and various creepers and pieces of underbrush slapped him uncomfortably in the face as he hurried along and once he tripped noisily over a root that he didn't remember being there before, and landed on his hands and knees in the dirt. He picked himself up as quickly as he could and hurried on.
It took a good twenty minutes to reach the Convenience Center. There were fewer people evident now, and Clark headed directly for the phones.
But, when he put the phone to his ear, no dial tone greeted him. He pushed the lever for the return of his quarters.
No quarters. He fished out two more but as he started to insert them an older man with white hair and an equally white mustache touched his elbow. "Don't bother," he said. "The phones are out. Somebody tried calling on a cell phone but there's no one on at the phone company. At least not the local branch. They said they'd send someone out in the morning."
"Oh great." Clark paused. "I really need to make a call. Do you have a cell phone?"
The helpful camper shook his head. "Sorry. Ask around. Somebody here's probably got one."
**********
Rachel left the Coroner's Office and got into her squad car. She had left the forensics team from Wichita combing the area around the dumpster, taking samples and looking for anything else that might give them more information. It was now past ten, and it looked as if it was going to be a long night. Not that she would get any sleep if she went home right now, she knew. She frowned at the dashboard of the car, thinking.
Benjamin Maher had found the Kent farm and had to have been killed shortly afterwards -- probably before Clark and Lois had even left for their camping trip. Why?
Well, she thought, suppose the enforcer had already arrived and was looking for the farm, and that he'd somehow learned from Maher that he'd found it. Maybe Maher had told him. Or maybe, she thought suddenly, he had taken Maher's place before he even had gone to the Kent farm. What if the man Clark had spoken to was actually the enforcer?
There had already been two attempts to kill Lois Lane in the last week, and this guy was supposed to be one of the best. He most likely wouldn't have done anything right there at the farm, but what if he'd hung around the place, intending to try to learn something from the Kents when they returned from town, figured out that Lois and Clark were there, and followed them? Lois's death had to look like an accident and accidents happened around lakes, where a person could drown, and woods where someone could fall and be hurt and unable to call for help. He could very well be at the lake campgrounds right now.
Rachel reached for her radio. "Jane, are you there?"
"Right here, Sheriff," the dispatcher's voice responded. "I was just leaving."
"Radio Cal and tell him to take over for me. And then call Dan Wilson for me. Tell him we've had a murder and the killer may be headed for Dan's favorite fishing spot -- the one where he caught the forty-two pound cat." Deputy Wilson in the little sheriff's office in Pepper would know what she meant, she thought. The reporters all over Smallville probably had their scanners tuned to the police frequency, but nobody but she and her deputies knew where Dan's favorite fishing spot was -- at Domino Lake where he'd caught the biggest catfish she'd seen in several years. "Tell him to have an ambulance on standby and to contact the ranger station. Tell them to try to locate Clark Kent and Lois Lane. I'll be there in an hour."
**********
tbc
