“What were you doing on the mountain the day of the storm?” she asked.
“I never gave up trying to find a trace of her on one of these hiking trails. The day of the storm, I discovered . . .” He paused, cleared his throat. “Graves. Four of them, and a fresh one dug for Millicent. The shovel used to dig it had been stashed in some underbrush.”
“The handcuffs?”
“Those are mine.”
“You also bought a transponder,” Begley said. “For tracking purposes, I presume.”
He nodded, looking abashed. “I never got to use it, but obviously you did your homework.”
“Actually, that credit goes to Special Agent Wise,” Begley said, indicating the other agent.
He had ended his cell phone call to the RA, whatever that was. He’d been listening to Tierney’s story and now stepped forward. “I also owe you an apology, Mr. Tierney. On paper, you looked like a viable suspect.”
“On paper, I suppose I would. Why were you looking at me in the first place?”
“Your initials appeared several times in Millicent Gunn’s diary. She indicated that you were nice to her.”
Tierney shrugged but didn’t comment on that.
“About the graves?” Begley prompted.
“I tried not to disturb the area around them, hoping they would provide forensic evidence. Whoever Blue turned out to be.”
Begley asked for directions. Tierney told them where they could find his car.
“They’re about a hundred fifty yards north-northeast from where it’s parked. It’s a rugged climb, but obviously doable, even for a man carrying a body.”
“The ribbon?” Lilly asked. It was still lying on the floor at their feet, stained with his blood as well as William Ritt’s.
“Just as I told you. I saw it fluttering on a branch. Ritt must’ve dropped it when he was digging the grave. I took it because I was afraid a valuable piece of evidence would blow away before I could lead somebody back up there.”
To Begley he said, “I used latex gloves when handling the shovel. It’s in the trunk of my car. Hopefully you’ll lift Ritt’s fingerprints off it.” Lilly saw that tears had glossed his eyes. “You’ll at least find my daughter’s remains.”
His voice had grown even more thready with the telling of his story. Considering how much blood he’d lost, Lilly didn’t know how he was remaining upright. She slid her arm around his waist. “Why don’t you sit down at least?”
He smiled down at her. “I’m okay.”
“It was Dutch who shot you, wasn’t it?”
He looked into her face for a moment, then turned to Begley. “What about him and Wes Hamer?”
“Collier, one of the tactical team, stayed behind with them.” Begley glanced at her uneasily, then asked Tierney, “Is it as Ms. Martin says? Chief Burton shot you?”
“I threw down my pistol,” he said bitterly. “It didn’t matter.”
“He shot you, knowing you were unarmed?”
“That’s partially my fault, Ms. Martin,” Begley said in response to her dismay. “Chief Burton considered Mr. Tierney a dangerous criminal.”
“I knew that.” Tierney explained how he’d heard over her car radio that he was wanted for questioning. “When I saw Dutch and Wes Hamer, I figured they were a hunting party out to capture me, dead or alive.”
“He was also angry over the two of you being up here together,” Begley said. “A bad combination of vigilantism and jealousy.”
“That’s why I took off running when I saw them,” Tierney said. “I hoped to contact you—the FBI—before they got to me. I figured I would have a better chance of explaining myself to you. I doubted I’d have the same luck with them, and I was right.”
He paused for breath. “But I couldn’t outrun them. They caught up with me, shot me. Seconds later I heard Ritt over the radio transmitter telling them he’d found Lilly here in the cabin, dead. I knew then that something was terribly wrong. I think you can piece together the rest.” He slumped against the wall.