by C. M. Sutter
Renz chuckled. “They’re thinking it’s an art form, and I guess in faraway indigenous tribes, crazy things like that and worse actually are considered forms of art.”
“I suppose you’re right, Agent DeLeon.”
I held up my phone. “May I?”
The doctor nodded.
I closed in on the young man’s face and snapped a few pictures. “I noticed there’s no stippling. Do you happen to have the slug?”
Dr. Kingston sighed. “Sorry, but it went clear through his head. A large caliber handgun but from ten feet or farther away because there’s no stippling.” He rubbed his chin as he stared at the victim’s face. “That’s my personal opinion, of course, because without the projectile or a casing, there isn’t a way to prove the type of weapon used. Several different guns can make the same-sized entry wounds, as can a cattle bolt pistol, although that wouldn’t cause a through and through.”
His comment made my head spin. A cattle bolt pistol was one more item that might be found on a cattle ranch. I read Renz’s expression, and I was sure he was thinking the same thing I was—we had our work cut out for us. I pointed my chin at him. “Can you think of any more questions?”
“Nope, I think we’re good. We have most of the info we need in the autopsy reports—height, weight, and so on. Everything else is research we’ll have to do with the team.”
I turned to the doctor. “And you’ll email me the information on the decomp?”
“I certainly will. All I need is a contact—”
I smiled as I gave him my card. “I was about to hand it to you. My phone number and email address are on there, and thank you for your help.”
Renz and I left.
“I need something to soothe my mind while I call Taft. Let’s get an ice cream before we head to the airport,” I said.
He frowned. “Why? We had breakfast two hours ago.”
“Because I want one. It’ll help me think. We can sit outside somewhere, and I’ll make the call. Taft is going to lose it when we tell her what Dr. Kingston said.”
Renz chuckled. “Taft? Doubt it. Losing it isn’t her style.”
Chapter 24
We bought our cones and walked out of the ice cream shop. A gazebo filled most of the space in the park across the street. The park was small but shady and held two picnic tables—both vacant.
“Right there.” I pointed at the park. “Nobody is around, and we can put Taft on Speakerphone.” I licked my rocky road waffle cone treat then looked both ways before crossing the street.
Renz walked with me while he dug into his pistachio-mint double scoop cone.
We sat at a table under an oak tree and enjoyed our creamy cold treats.
“I thought you were going to call while you ate your cone,” Renz said.
I waved him off. “Something this good can’t go unappreciated. I’ll call her when I’m done. Five minutes tops, I promise.”
Soon, I wiped my mouth with the paper napkin I’d grabbed from the ice cream shop then tossed it in the waste can at the end of the picnic table. “Okay, I’m ready to call.” I looked around to make sure nobody was in the area then dialed Taft’s number.
She answered right away. “Jade, how’s it going?”
“Everything is going like we expected it to.”
“And have you met with the ME yet?”
“Yes. We just finished up with him, and there’s a chance for a break in the case.”
“Good. We certainly can use one. Go ahead, Monroe. I’m all ears.”
“Dr. Kingston said several interesting things, one being that the holes in the victims’ heads that weren’t through and throughs could have come from a cattle pistol. They’re used to disable livestock before slaughtering them.”
“That’s disturbing but something to think about, especially since we’re leaning toward a cattle rancher or hauler as our killer.”
“Right. He also said that after reading the autopsy reports from each ME, he could tell in what order the bodies were dumped by the state of decomp they were in. His conclusion, although he’ll write it in an official email to me, is that Montana was the point of origin. Because all the teens were killed at the same time, give or take an hour on either end, the killer loaded them up and began his trip from there. Now we need the soil scientists to tell us where in Montana those samples from the shoes came from.”
“And that’s going to be a problem.”
My shoulders slumped and I let Renz take over the conversation. My high of all highs had just hit rock bottom.
“Maureen, it’s Lorenzo. What’s going on with the soil testing?”
“It’s such a specialized field, Lorenzo, that they can’t get to our request for a few weeks.”
“That won’t work. Do they know this is an FBI request because a serial killer is murdering teenagers?”
She sighed into the phone. “Yes, they know that, but the cases ahead of us are important as well.”
“Shit. That’s really a blow to the investigation. Then how about having the team focus on the livestock auctions in Montana and put everything else on the back burner for now?”
“We can certainly do that, and we’ll get started immediately. Are you leaving for Missouri soon?”
“The jet will be fueled up and ready to go in an hour. My question is, after this new discovery, should we continue on to Missouri just to gather the same information that we already have or head back to Montana and wait for word from you?”
“Head to Montana and text me when you land in Butte.”
“Will do. Have Tory book us a rental at the Butte airport. I’m not sure where we’re going after that, so we’ll take care of our own hotel rooms.” Renz ended the call and passed my phone to me. “Ready to return to Butte?”
“I’m more than ready. If that killer started his route in Montana, then that means his ranch, farm, house, holding area—whatever you want to call the place he keeps the kids—is there too. My bet is that it’s a big ranch. You can’t shoot people whenever you want unless you have a lot of land around you with no worries about being heard.”
“I agree. And if he is a cattle hauler, has his own business, and a huge spread, then nobody would have a clue what he’s up to. We’ll have plenty of time to work while we’re on the jet. I’ll call Taft back once we’re in the sky and tell her to email everything they have now, and that they get later, to your email address. Cheer up, Jade. We’re going to have that son of a bitch in custody soon.”
“I know, I know.” I pointed at Renz’s shirt. “Need a bib?”
He looked down. “What?”
I chuckled and flicked his nose. “Gotcha. Now let’s get the hell out of here and head back to Montana.”
The flight would take three hours, not quite as long as it was from Milwaukee to Butte but close. We hoped to nail down some areas of the state as possible starting routes that were near the interstate where the first victim was found. We also needed to check into orphanages from back in the day as well as adoption agencies nationwide that were less than reputable and had been shut down for illegal practices.
I called the pilot and asked to leave as soon as possible. He said he’d already fueled up and inspected the jet. All that was left was to file a new flight plan and we would be ready to leave in thirty minutes instead of an hour. That was fine with us since we had to turn in the rental car anyway.
We took to the sky at eleven thirty, and once we’d leveled off and I powered on my laptop, Renz and I got busy. An email had already come in from Charlotte’s computer. It showed an interactive map with the three interstates that ran through Montana and the two bypass interstates that only went through Butte and Great Falls. It was suggested that we concentrate on the three major ones—I-90, I-94, and I-15. I-90 and 94 were east-to-west routes, and I-15 was a north-to-south interstate. I-90 came in from Idaho and continued east through Montana and met up with I-94, which traveled into North Dakota. I-15 came out of Canada and went through several
major Montana cities—Great Falls, Helena, and Butte—before continuing into Idaho. The only town I-15 and I-90 intersected in was Butte, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything for our investigation. Now we needed to map out the livestock services locations.
“Hmm,” Renz said.
“English, please.”
Renz pointed at the map. “It looks like most of the livestock auction houses are within this cluster, but they’re mostly along the interstates.”
“Easy in and out, I’d imagine.”
Renz drew a circle around the tightest cluster and hit Save. Then we overlaid the stockyards on the auction sites. The locations were nearly identical, and several places were one and the same. Most fit within that same cluster. I-15 and I-90 made a half circle on the west and south, and US Highway 87 and US Highway 191 completed the circle on the north and east.
“So, what’s dead center within that area?” I asked.
Renz enlarged the map and zoomed in. “A bunch of small towns that have easy access to every interstate via the state highways.” He rubbed his brow. “Is that actually telling us anything, or are we just trying to make it fit our narrative?”
“Who the hell knows? This investigation is frying my brain.”
“Yeah, mine too. Let’s take ten minutes and have some coffee.”
As I sipped the hot brew, I thought about what Renz had just said. A bunch of small towns with easy access to the interstates. It was the perfect situation for someone who wanted to avoid the public eye, stay away from big cities, and live with open land and few neighbors.
“That’s it, Renz!”
“What’s it?”
“What you said before. Small towns with easy access to the interstates. What better way to stay invisible, have tons of land, and no neighbors? Nobody would ever really know who owned the property if the killer never made a public appearance anywhere. He probably has plenty of ranch hands if he has a big spread. They might be the ones who do all the errands, and if there’s plenty of small towns in the area, maybe they don’t always go to the same one.”
“Or—”
“Or what?” I asked.
“Maybe they go into the big cities once or twice a month for supplies, or if the killer is driving the big rig, he might grab supplies on his way home from wherever he’s been. Hell, I bet he never has to be seen if he doesn’t want to.”
I was regaining my energy. “So maybe we should go to those small towns that are surrounded by livestock auction houses and start talking to the locals.”
“Better yet, we should go to the auction houses and ask around. They’d have documentation of all the haulers who bring in and buy steer. After we get an idea of who the Montana haulers are, we can ask the locals in that area.”
“Sounds like a perfect plan, and we can’t get there fast enough.”
Chapter 25
“I finally have a signal, Byron.”
“Then look for the nearest hospital or clinic.”
Tara tapped the request into her phone’s search bar. “I’ve got it. White Sulphur Springs has a hospital.”
“Are we on the right road, and how far is it?”
“Um, we’re on Highway 12 now, but we were on a different road when we found the girl.”
“Okay, it looks like we’re coming up on Checkerboard. How far is that from White Sulphur Springs?”
Tara quickly tapped her phone keys. “It’s twenty more miles. Damn it.” She looked over the seat. “The girl isn’t moving.”
“Call 911 and see if you can get through to anyone. Tell them we’re heading west on US 12 and we’re just passing Checkerboard now on our way to the hospital in White Sulphur Springs. We have an unidentified girl with us who has a serious head injury. Let them know she’s unconscious and needs immediate medical attention. They have to dispatch an ambulance east to meet us.”
“Got it.”
Tara made the call, got through, and was told that an ambulance was on its way. She ended the call and repeated the message to Byron. “We’ll likely see them heading north in ten minutes or so. We’re supposed to flash our headlights on and off and honk our horn so they know it’s us, then we need to stop along the shoulder and they’ll turn around.”
“Good enough. How does her head wound look?”
Tara frowned. “The T-shirt is soaked through. I don’t know if she’s going to make it.”
“What exactly happened back there?”
Tara shook her head. “It happened so fast. I was just looking for a private place to pee, and I heard a man’s voice. He was threatening that girl with his rifle and kept telling her to move it. That’s when I stumbled backward. He saw me and then clubbed the poor girl with the end of the gun and ran into the woods. He did go in the direction of that truck, though, and then we noticed it was gone when we got back to the car. Do you remember anything about it?”
“Only that it was a dark color. Honestly, I didn’t pay any attention to it. We’ll have to talk to the cops, you know.”
“I’m fine with that.”
Byron returned his focus to the road and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. Tara leaned in closer and looked at the speedometer. He was going eighty-five.
“Am I going too fast?”
She waved him on. “No, it’s okay. We’ll see them any minute, won’t we?”
“Five minutes or so, I’d say. They’ll stabilize her until they get her to the hospital. It’s more than we can do.”
Tara looked over her shoulder again. “I don’t want her to die. She’s just a kid.”
“There they are!” Byron pointed out the windshield and flashed his lights. He honked the horn, and when he saw that the ambulance was slowing down, he pulled to the shoulder.
“Thank God!” Tara reached for the door handle, and Byron grabbed her arm.
“Honey, wait until I put it in Park.”
“Sorry.”
Seconds later, Byron and Tara exited the car and opened the rear door. The ambulance pulled up behind them, then two sheriff’s office squad cars squealed to a stop in front of Byron’s car.
“She’s in the back seat!” Tara yelled. “She was clubbed in the head with the stock of a rifle, and she’s been unconscious since.”
“Back away, please. We need room to get her out.”
One EMT rolled the gurney to the back seat, and the other rounded the car and opened the opposite door. They needed to assess the girl’s condition and secure her head before moving her.
“How long ago did this injury happen?”
Tara looked at Byron. “What, forty-five minutes ago?”
“Yeah, that sounds about right. We couldn’t get a phone signal back on that canyon road. It wasn’t until we got onto Highway 12 that we were able to make a call.”
“You said she was hit in the head with a gun?”
“Yes.”
“And she was walking on her own prior to that?”
“She was.”
“Okay, then we can assume she doesn’t have a spinal injury. How’s her head, Tim?”
“She’s secure.”
“Then let’s slide her this way and get the gurney beneath her.”
Once the girl was in the back of the ambulance, the EMTs sped off, and the deputies took over.
“We need to see your ID’s, folks, and we’ll need a formal statement. The ID’s now and the statement at the sheriff’s office.”
“Yes, of course. Whatever we can do to help,” Tara said. “I hope she makes it.”
The deputy nodded then looked at Byron’s ID. “Where were you folks headed, Mr. Philips?”
“Home. We were coming back from vacation and decided to take the back roads to see interesting landscapes instead of the same thing along the interstates.” He shook his head. “Never would I have—”
The deputy interrupted. “Vacationing where?”
“Oh, we were visiting family in Minot, North Dakota,” Byron said. “My wife, Tara, is pregnant, and we wanted to take a
fun road trip before she was too far along.”
Deputy Smythe tipped his head. “Congratulations.”
Tara smiled. “Thank you.”
The other deputy, R. Knight, took over. “Okay, folks, we’re going to have you pull out right behind my car and follow me to the sheriff’s office in White Sulphur Springs. We’ll take your statement there since it needs to be on record. Deputy Smythe will be right behind you.”
“Sure thing,” Byron said.
After Knight climbed into his squad car and flashed his left blinker, Byron pulled out behind him. Byron checked his rearview mirror, and Deputy Smythe took his place behind their car.
Tara looked back. “So we’re squeezed between them deliberately, right?”
Byron shrugged. “Well, yeah. For all they know, we could have clunked that girl in the head ourselves.”
“But that’s ridiculous. Why would we clunk her, load her in our car, and still call for help?”
“We wouldn’t, honey, but the deputies don’t know us from Adam, and they’re only doing their job by taking precautions.”
Tara read the road sign they’d just passed and saw it was five more miles to White Sulphur Springs. “I wonder where that man was taking her. I didn’t see a single building or house along that road, only mountains and forests. Do you even remember what the name of that road was?”
“I looked when we were at the stop sign before turning onto Highway 12. It was called Spring Creek Road.”
“Good. I’m glad you took note of that. Do you think the sheriff’s department will conduct a search of the area?”
Byron shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of land to cover if they do.”
Chapter 26
Byron turned left behind Deputy Knight’s car. They entered what appeared to be a compound of mismatched structures, some pole sheds, and brick-and-mortar buildings. The sheriff’s office was housed in a redbrick building that looked to be from the thirties or older. Deputy Smythe and Deputy Knight pulled into the employee lot, and Byron parked in front of the building. He and Tara waited outside their car for the deputies to come around to the front entrance.
