"What the hell happened to you?”
“Didn’t you see me run?”
“No.”
"Someone was watching the crowd. He was standing at the far edge, near the boat launch. Hood up. He placed something at the memorial. Touched Burt's photograph. Then he looked right at me and walked."
"Walked?"
"Until he knew I was following. Then he ran. I chased him through the residential blocks south of the lake. Lost him in a backyard on Elm. He was in a tree. He dropped on me when I passed under him."
Callie's expression changed. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, he just knocked me down. We went at it for a few seconds. I thought I had him, but he kicked free and went over a fence into the forest. He’s gone."
“Did you get a look at him?”
“Not exactly. He’s male. Tall, six-one, six-two. Strong. Fast. Dark jacket, hood. I couldn't see his face,” He said.
Callie was quiet for a moment.
"Could be nothing," she said. "Could be someone who didn't want to be seen at a vigil for personal reasons."
"Could be. But people who don't want to be seen don't ambush cops from trees."
The night felt different now.
"Whoever that was, he touched that photograph. I want to get that dusted for a print,” Noah said. "And if it's our guy, he was standing thirty feet from us tonight."
10
The first real lead came less than twelve hours after the vigil. It didn't come from the board. It came from a phone call.
Callie was at her desk in the Sheriff's Office in Lewis when the tip line lit up just after noon. A deputy transferred it to her. The caller was a woman named Marion Kelsey, seventy-three, lived on Hays Brook Road, half a mile south of Burt Halvorsen's property. She had already been interviewed during the canvass and had nothing to offer then. But she had been thinking about it since, the way people do when violence happens close to home, turning the names over in her mind, and one had surfaced.
"There was a man," she said. "Three years ago. At a town meeting. He stood up and shouted at Dr. Halvorsen in front of everyone. Said Burt was responsible for covering up how his brother really died. Said the autopsy ignored evidence that the equipment had failed. Said Burt helped make sure nobody answered for it."
"Do you remember his name?"
"Aspen. Todd Aspen. He lives out past High Peaks somewhere. Works as a hunting guide, I think."
Callie thanked her, hung up, and pulled up the county records.
Todd Aspen. Forty-four. Former Army infantry, four years active duty, two years National Guard reserve. Marksman qualification on his service record. Honorable discharge. Came back to the Adirondacks and built a business as a hunting guide and seasonal outfitter, running trips into the backcountry for tourists who wanted to shoot deer without getting lost. He lived alone on a rural property off Bear Cub Lane outside High Peaks. Twelve acres, mostly forested. No criminal record.
Three years ago, his younger brother Kyle had died in a hunting accident on state land near Keene. Fell from a tree stand, hit his head on a rock, bled out before anyone found him. Burt Halvorsen performed the autopsy and ruled the death accidental. Todd Aspen believed the tree stand was defective, that the platform bolt had sheared, and that Burt's autopsy had failed to document injuries consistent with equipment failure. Without that documentation, there was no case against the manufacturer, no accountability, no answers. Todd raised the issue at two town meetings and filed a complaint with the county health department. The complaint was reviewed and dismissed. The ruling stood. In Todd's mind, Burt didn't kill Kyle. But Burt helped make sure no one answered for it.
Callie stared at the screen.
She thought about what Noah had told her that morning. The bruise on his chin. The torn collar. He hadn't just chased a shadow. He'd been knocked to the ground by someone real. And the man at the vigil had moved through those backyards and trees like he'd done it a thousand times. A hunting guide who ran backcountry trips in the High Peaks Wilderness would know that terrain.
She picked up the phone and called McKenzie.
"I need you to run a name through the firearms registry," she said. "Todd Aspen. And pull everything we have on a hunting fatality from three years ago. Kyle Aspen."
"What are we looking at?"
"Someone who had a very public reason to hate Burt Halvorsen."
