Chapter 4

Edgerton watched Charlie step around the site, scribbling notes, carefully noting the where the body was found, walking the perimeter of the area, looking at variables that Edgerton could only guess at. Charlie had seemed to get comfortable on the horse in spite of himself, and they had even increased from a walk to a trot along a couple of straight stretches on the way there. Maybe they would try a canter on the way down, Edgerton grinned to himself. That would get the professor's blood pumping.

Charlie glanced up and caught Edgerton's smile. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," said Edgerton. "Just thinking about how far your horseback riding skills have come in one afternoon."

Charlie grinned back, and walked over, plopping himself on the ground next to Edgerton, and rooting through his pack, pulling out a couple of granola bars. "Yeah, Don will never believe it. I'm not sure I do myself." He tossed a granola bar to Edgerton. "It won't replace hiking, for me, but it's really kind of fun for a change."

"You like to hike, huh?" At Charlie's nod, he said, "It's a good thing. Where we're going the next few days, we can't take horses. We'll need to climb on some parts of the trail." He took a bite of his granola bar and looked at Charlie speculatively. "So what does a professor do for fun, besides hike?"

Charlie grimaced and shook his head. "Lately, not much. Seminars, fund raisers – just got through with finals week -," he broke off and took a bite of his own granola bar.

A comfortable pause ensued, and Edgerton asked, "So, do you have a girl?" As soon as he said it, he realized it was the wrong question to ask.

Charlie's face fell, and he looked away, trying to swallow the lump of granola that suddenly filled his throat. "I did," he said quietly, gazing out over the hillside. "We, uh, we broke up a couple of weeks ago." There, he thought, he said it; it was out. Just like that.

"Sorry to hear that," said Edgerton quietly. "I'm not much in that department, myself. Doesn't really work with the job." He glanced over at the horses and the deputy, who was standing off to the side, smoking a cigarette, then looked back at Charlie, clapping a hand on his back. "You done here?" At Charlie's nod he said, "We'd better get going. It'll take a couple of hours to get back."

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The deputy pulled into the parking lot, and Don jumped out, giving him a wave. Megan, Colby and David were all back, he noted, as he scanned the lot. He headed into Room 103 to find the three of them clustered together, Megan referencing her notes. She looked up as he stepped in. "Hey Don," she said. "I think we have our guy. I will be completely surprised if it is not Nathan Mansour."

Don glanced around, idly wondering where Charlie was. "Yeah? How's that?"

"I checked in with the local police before I interviewed the mother. They said that she wasn't very cooperative at the time of the interview, and that she kept insisting that her son had left a few days before the murder. When I went to talk with her though, she had changed her tune a little. Apparently she's seen the killings on the news, and they've been bothering her. At any rate, she opened up."

"Didn't have anything to do with your interviewing skills," smiled Don.

Megan blushed a little. "No, thanks for that, but I think she was just ready to talk. Nathan Mansour is a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic, has been for about 10 years. He's been on medication, but when the murder occurred; his mother checked his meds and found that he had a full prescription that should have been nearly empty. He hadn't been taking them."

"Was she home when it happened?" asked Don.

"No, she was out at the store. She found her husband dead when she returned, and Nathan and some of his camping gear was gone. Here's where it gets interesting. George, Nathan's father, was a drunk, and extremely abusive. Beating, burning with cigarettes, and on one occasion, when Nathan was twelve, he cut off one of his toes."

Don whistled. "She told you this?"

"Yeah, it was kind of wild. She said she had never told anyone any of this before, but it seemed like once she started talking, she couldn't stop. Apparently she and Nathan had lived in fear of him for years. I think she finally realized that with both of them gone, it was safe to talk."

Don shook his head, trying to comprehend what he had heard. "He cut off his kid's toe?"

"He was drunk, and I guess Nathan had gone off somewhere he wasn't supposed to, or was gone for longer than he was supposed to be. The father pinned him down, and told him he knew how to keep him from wandering off, and cut off one of his little toes. Then he threatened both of them he would kill them if they told. Guess where they were when this happened?" Don shook his head, and she continued, "Camping in Los Padres."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah. So we've got our trigger - Nathan quit taking his meds, which precipitated the murder of his father. We also know why the murders are taking the form they are. All of the victims have been male – he sees them as an extension of his father, or himself, or both."

Don shook his head in amazement. "Nice work. Now we just need to find him. I didn't have any luck with the photos – did you?" He looked at David and Colby.

"Actually, yes. We've got an ID based on the photo, at a grocery store in Frazier Park," said David.

Colby spoke up. "I showed the photo to the store manager, and he thought he remembered seeing the guy the week before. One of his checkout girls confirmed it. She said he bought a bunch of supplies, including food that wouldn't spoil, nutrition bars, beef jerky, stuff like that. She remembered him because he kept mumbling to himself at the checkout, and he packed everything he bought in his backpack. They said his hair is longer than in the photo, about chin length and kind of wild, but other than that they were pretty sure."

"We already talked to Peters; he's gonna have a guy stake out the place in case he comes back," added David.

Don nodded. "Great work." He glanced over, noticing Charlie's computer bag with a frown. "Any of you see Charlie lately?"

Megan glanced up in confusion. "He went with Edgerton."

Don grinned and shook his head as he headed toward the door. "Nah, I can guarantee he didn't go with Edgerton. They were taking horses – Charlie hates horses. Maybe he's taking a nap – he wasn't feeling too well – I'll just check the room." He stepped out, and made for their room, two doors down.

"I could have sworn I saw Charlie headed toward Ian's truck when I left," said Megan, looking at Colby and David, her forehead puckered. They shrugged. She got up and headed toward the door, meeting Don just outside of it, returning from his room. His face was a study in concern and confusion. At the sound of a vehicle, they turned, and saw Edgerton's truck pull into the lot. Don started towards it almost immediately, only to pull up short as he saw Charlie jump out of the passenger side.

Charlie fell into step next to Edgerton, a smile on his face, and they both laughed as Edgerton made a comment. He put his arm around Charlie's shoulders and gave him a quick friendly squeeze as they approached. Megan glanced at Don. The concern had left his face, but the frown had not.

Charlie and Ian walked up to them; Charlie's face flushed with color and sporting a huge grin. "That was awesome," he said excitedly. "I didn't know what I was missing. We cantered half the way back."

"Well, not half the way," said Edgerton smiling. "We had a couple of good runs though." He regarded Don with a knowing smile, and Don tried to muster up one of his own, but only succeeded in looking sour. He tried to push down a little twinge of something uncomfortable, unwilling to admit that it might be jealousy. His reply came out a little gruffer than it was intended to be.

"Well, these guys actually got some work done today," he sniped, as he turned back into the war room. "You might want to come in and catch up." Edgerton and Charlie grinned at each other conspiratorially behind Don's back.

"Doesn't like to be wrong, does he?" smirked Edgerton in a quiet aside to Charlie.

"It runs in the family," said Megan, looking at Charlie with her eyebrows raised. Charlie grinned back at her and followed Edgerton into the room, Megan behind them, shaking her head and stifling a grin of her own.

By dinner, Don's mood had improved, but only slightly. The improvement was short lived. They all met in the diner next door to the hotel, and he sat next to his brother. The group was in high spirits in spite of the gruesomeness of the assignment; everyone felt good about the progress they had made that day. Colby launched into some stories about his teenage years in Idaho that convulsed the group, and laughter and lively conversation floated through the diner.

Charlie was quieter than he had been earlier that afternoon, but he was still smiling at the stories, focusing on the conversation. Don had to admit that that was an improvement over the past couple of days. He had Ian to thank for that, of all people. Edgerton was normally cool, unapproachable, and the thought that he and Charlie had hit it off so well should have made him happy.

Hell, he was happy, why should he stew over the stupid horse thing, he thought. So what that Ian could convince Charlie to try riding again when he couldn't? So what that his brother couldn't be bothered to tell him what was going on in his life? So what? He speared a bite of chicken with a vengeance, and Charlie glanced at him sideways.

After dinner, they strolled back to the hotel. Don walked slowly at the rear of the group, and Edgerton dropped back to talk to him. "We should pack up our gear tonight," said Ian. "We've got an early start in the morning. Pack warm; there's still snow up on Mount Pinos this time of year. It gets pretty cold at night."

Don's hackles raised; he didn't need to be lectured to by Edgerton, but all he said was, "Right. I'll tell Charlie."

Edgerton looked at Charlie, who walking ahead of them, and smiled. "I think he surprised himself today."

Don grunted. "Surprised me, that's for sure."

"Yeah, me too," said Edgerton. They walked a minute in silence; then he spoke again. "Too bad about his girl; were they close?"

Don's heart constricted. Charlie had told Ian about Amita? He felt like he had received a physical blow to his gut, and realized his mouth was open. He closed it, trying to neutralize his expression. "Yeah," he finally managed. "They were close." They had reached the hotel, and he turned away, making a beeline for his room. "See you in the morning," he tossed over his shoulder, and ducked inside.

Charlie was still outside, talking to Megan, and Don sat heavily on one of the beds, his shoulders slumped. 'What's wrong with me?' he thought, with a mixture of frustration and dejection. 'Am I that lousy of a brother that he would choose to talk to that cold unapproachable bastard over me? I thought we were doing better. What in the hell's going on here?' He heard Charlie at the door and jumped up, unzipping his pack and plowing through the contents, seething, his back turned.

Charlie entered the room, and stood and looked at him for a minute. He had the uncomfortable feeling that his brother was angry with him, but for what? He couldn't be that mad over the horse thing, could he? He walked slowly over to his own pack, and unzipped it, stuffing his notebook inside. "Ian said we should make sure we bring warm clothes," he said, in a tentative attempt at conversation.

"Yeah, I heard," snapped Don.

Charlie stared, nonplussed, and then started as his cell phone rang. His heart leapt as he saw the number, and he headed toward the door as he answered it. "Amita, hi," he said, as he went out, and Don could hear no more. He finished packing and zipped his pack with disgust, then stripped down one of the beds and climbed in, fuming, reaching over to set the alarm with an angry jab.

Charlie fumbled with his phone as he got outside. His heart was thumping in a mixture of trepidation and hope. "Hold on a sec. Okay. How are you?"

Her voice came over the line, and his heart contracted. "Good Charlie. How's it going up there?"

Charlie's stomach twisted in anticipation. She couldn't be calling just to make conversation. "Okay. We made some progress today. We go out hiking tomorrow to view the crime scenes." 'Get to the point,' he thought, waiting anxiously for her to answer.

"Well, I wanted to ask you – there was this restaurant you said you liked, that kind of upscale Greek place – I couldn't remember the name -,"

Charlie's heart plummeted. She called to ask him this? 'Why?' he thought despairingly. 'So she can take her new boyfriend there?' He heard her clear her throat nervously, and begin stammering a convoluted story about a friend looking for a recommendation, and his question was answered. "Spiro's," he said quietly, interrupting her. "It's called Spiro's. Yeah, sure. No problem." He hung up, leaning quietly against the wall, and closed his eyes as the pain took him.

After a long moment, he pulled away from the wall and went inside. Don glanced at him from half-closed eyes. Even from across the room, in dim light, the misery on Charlie's face was apparent. He watched his brother pull down the covers and slip under them, roll onto his side and curl up into a fetal position. Don knew that position; it was one Charlie had unconsciously assumed since he was small, whenever he was upset or sick. Don reached over and twisted the switch off the lamp, plunging the room in darkness. Maybe it would be easier for Charlie to bring it up if he didn't have to look at me, he thought. He took a deep breath, hoping for a breakthrough. "Everything okay?" 'Come on, Charlie, talk to me.'

There was a pause from the other side of the room, then a muffled, "Yeah, just fine." Don waited for more, hopefully, his anticipation slowly dissolving as the silence extended. He groaned inwardly, frustration and hurt replacing hope, and quiet descended, leaving each of them to his own individual misery.

-------------------------------------------End Chapter 4--------------------------------------------