Kenner pulled out his cell phone and punched in a two-digit code. “Clayton?” Captain Randolph, the next in command after Kenner. “Say, I forgot to take care of something before I left for a meeting. Sergeant Aleckson called in. If you could get a replacement. . . . Great, thanks.” He closed his phone and nodded at me. “We’ll get you a fully-equipped car from the drug task force. Think you can handle eight hours of surveillance?”
To help nail Sparrow for the evil things he had done over the years? “No problem.”
“We’ll watch him, Dawes. I’ll see what I can find out about Nutting and Planer, and write up that warrant when I get back to the office. May not get it all done today, but I’ll try.”
Smoke nodded. “Understood. Now for the reports.”
Kenner spread the sheets on the table and pointed to one. “Armstrong tells it like it is: evidence compromised, hunters reported Manthes had been wearing an orange hat, but that was never found. Reports the facts, calls for a deeper investigation.”
“Which Walden supposedly did,” Smoke said.
Kenner raised one eyebrow then looked down at the papers. “Edberg, same deal.”
Smoke’s finger moved down the page as he read. “And Walden’s supplemental doesn’t say much. How did he slide this through? He lists brief statements from each witness/shooter. No mention of how they compromised the scene, moved evidence. There was no autopsy. And there’s the matter of the missing cap. They were hunting together, so Manthes’ orange cap should have been nearby. One of them must have taken it.”
Kenner shook his head. “That was stupid. Why didn’t they just toss it somewhere in the woods, not far from the body? They should have been interrogated and charged. Compare Walden’s four-paragrapher to your detailed reports, Dawes.
“Trouble is, with no autopsy, we have no estimate of how far away they were when they all shot. We got no physical evidence. Unless we get a confession from one of them, at this point we’re screwed. Walden had to have been in on it. One of them. Dirty. The M.W. who picked up a transient, on patrol no less. I want every one of Sparrow’s other journals.”
Smoke nodded. “Yeah, he probably documented what really happened on that deer hunt. His house over in Wellspring? There’s no record of him selling it, but we should see if he’s rented it out. If he hasn’t, I’d get a search warrant for that place too. Gregory Trippen saw the stack of his journals in the safe there.”
“Will do. When is Trippen coming back to Oak Lea? The thirtieth is only a few days away.”
“He’ll be here Thursday. Since his car is taking so long to fix, I talked him into flying and renting a car at the airport. With plates from anywhere but Vermont. He’s very worried, of course. Jeffrey hasn’t contacted him for a long time. I can’t imagine how Jeffrey can hide when the whole state’s looking for him,” I said.
Kenner nodded then shrugged. “A couple things to consider. For one, other agencies aren’t looking for him as diligently as we are. And he could have changed his appearance dramatically, making it harder to spot him.” He clasped his hands. “Well, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover. Sergeant, dress down for your detail. You got a wig?”
“No.” Except for a silly orange clown wig I had worn to a costume party once.
“Then put your hair up and wear a baseball cap. Give me a call before you come to pick up the vehicle and I’ll tell you which one is available. Your squad car key will work in the ignition.”
Smoke cleared some phlegm from his throat. “I can take a surveillance shift.”
“No, you rest. You’ll get better faster.” Kenner gathered the documents and put them in the envelopes.
“Smoke, you got the list of Sparrow’s vehicles, license plates?” I asked.
“Yeah, in my briefcase. I’ll get ’em.”
He went into another room and returned with the vehicle registration printouts. I jotted the data in my memo pad.
Kenner checked his watch and looked at me. “It’s twelve thirty now. Think you can get to Saint Cloud by two thirty or three?”
“Sure, maybe before that. I’ll go home, get ready, eat something then I’ll be ready to roll,” I said.
42: The Coven
They were assembled in the county park by Noris’s home, waiting, when he pulled in. Cyril, Dieter, and Roman had agreed to meet him there from time to time so Noris could swing into the park when he was on duty. He steered his squad car to the right and stopped a few feet from them. Noris got out, and they all stepped into a small circle.
“Give us your report, Deputy Deacon,” Cyril said.
“I’ll start with Aleckson. She hasn’t filed any reports on Jeffrey or Gregory Manthes, aka Trippen. I went through the call log from the day the ATL was posted and there are no summaries either. When calls are handled and don’t require a full report, the officer makes a two or three-line entry with the report number, and ends it with NRN, which means no report needed.”
Dieter frowned. “Tell us what you have learned from the recordings you’re taking at her house.”
“I got the equipment set up on my end about three o’clock that morning. When it detects someone is in the room, the bug activates and turns on. It’s very sensitive. Aside from noises people make when they’re sleeping, it was quiet until nine. Detective Dawes was there with Aleckson. I think he was the one who slept in her office.
“They talked about someone being on her computer and planned to dust it for prints. They suspected it was Deputy Edberg because Aleckson saw him leaving the office during the party. The next day, we were in the squad room and she pulled Edberg into another room.
“I teased him about it later, asked him what he was in trouble for, and he said she had some questions, but he didn’t have any answers. As far as I know, she quit bothering to find out. She and Dawes probably still think it’s Edberg, but they can’t prove it. No fingerprints.
“Nothing much to report since that first morning after the party. She goes in the office to use the computer, makes a few phone calls. But none to, from, or about Gregory Trippen.”
“Keep checking the recordings. And her car trips?” Cyril asked.
“Not many, nowhere special. A cemetery, a church, that’s about as exciting as it gets.” Noris smiled. “That was one awesome warning I left on her car.”
No one else smiled.
He went on. “A deputy named Holman took the call on her car and wrote a report. The chief deputy was the one who talked to me about the damage. He said they were talking to everyone who had been at the party. He asked me if I had done it, or knew who did. I said no, of course. They have no clue it was me.”
“Did you reach your contact in Vermont?” Dieter asked.
“I did, and the message was delivered to Gregory Manthes Trippen in downtown Burlington. From the way it was phrased, he’d think it was from Sparrow. And they disabled his vehicle.”
Cyril nodded. “Good. I find it strange Sparrow has been so reclusive. I’ve phoned him several times. He doesn’t answer and hasn’t returned my calls. I finally called his office, and his scheduler said he was on vacation this week and will be back on Monday.”
“He always keeps us apprised when he leaves town in case we need his help or advice. Where would he go during such an important time?” Dieter asked.
“It’s not like him at all, but there’s nothing we can do until he gets back in touch with us,” Cyril said.
They silently considered options for a while.
Cyril turned to Noris. “And the abduction is set?”
“Yes. Dieter will assist me in securing our sacrificial offering. She is a worthy gift for our Master. Full of energy. We’ll celebrate Walpurgisnacht well into the morning.”
Dieter nodded. “I will meet you at eleven forty-five, and she will be in the preparation room by twelve fifteen.”
“We miss your Uncle Miles, but you have been a very worthy replacement, Deacon. You improve every year,” Cyril said.
“Thank you, High
Priest. I am honored to serve our Master.”
“Hail, Satan,” Cyril said.
“Hail, Satan,” they chanted.
43
The older model silver Chevrolet Venture minivan was the perfect surveillance vehicle. Who really paid attention to minivans? They were all over. My mother had driven one when we were growing up, so when I saw one, I thought, “Mom’s vehicle.” Had I ever stopped one for speeding? Probably a few times, but not often.
I cruised through the parking lots of both the clinic where Sparrow practiced and the hospital where he did surgeries. None of his vehicles were in the doctors’ reserved spots, or anywhere else in the lots. If Sparrow was at work, he hadn’t driven there.
I consulted the map, figured out where he lived, and found it ten minutes later. The street was a few blocks from the state university in a quiet neighborhood. The house was a stately, two-story brick Cape Cod complete with shutters on the windows. Unless one personally knew Sparrow and the clandestine life he led, there would be no obvious reason to suspect a monster lived there. I drove to a street a block away and parked. I had a front view of Sparrow’s house, between two others.
Three o’clock. There were few cars and little activity. Sparrow’s house was closed up tight. Curtains and blinds covered all the windows, including the one on the front door. He had a two car garage and owned three vehicles. If two were in the garage, where was the third?
I called information for the clinic’s phone number then dialed it. “Hello. I’m from out of town, and my friend recommended Doctor Sparrow as a great surgeon. I was wondering if he had any openings today or tomorrow?”
The receptionist on the other end was abrupt when she said, “I’m sorry, Doctor Sparrow is out of the office all week.”
“Will he be back next week?”
“Yes, but he is completely booked. I can put you on a waiting list, in case there are any cancellations.”
“No thanks, I’ll be leaving before then. ’Bye.” I hung up before she could say more.
Had Sparrow left town, or was he taking his vacation at home?
Neither Smoke nor the chief deputy was happy with the news. When I told him, Kenner said, “Stick to your detail. We’ll continue watching, in case he’s still around. Edberg will relieve you at twenty-three hundred.”
“Sounds good.”
I drove to different locations about every two hours. First down the block on Sparrow’s street, then to a cross street, then to another. The outside temperature was in the seventies. Comfortable in the shade, hot sitting in the sun. To stay cool as the sun’s light moved to the west, I moved with it.
An older gentleman approached my vehicle shortly before five o’clock. I opened my cell phone, hit the camera button, snapped his picture then pretended to dial.
I smiled at him and held a finger up as if to say, “I’ll be with you in a minute.” I talked into the phone to no one, making imaginary plans to meet. When I clapped the phone shut I said, “Hi.”
“Hello. I’m checking to see if everything is okay. You’ve been waiting out here a very long time.”
“I know. I am such a dimwit sometimes. I just talked to my friend, who’s wondering where I am. I got the address mixed up. But it’s nice of you to check. Well, I better not keep her any longer.” I started the engine.
“Then I’ll get out of your way. Drive safely, young lady.”
“I will, and thanks.” When he was back on the sidewalk, I drove to a new spot.
I vowed that the next time I was on a long stakeout, I’d bring something to read. I ran the license plate of every vehicle that passed on the car’s laptop. I examined the few items in the glove box. I sent text messages to Sara and John Carl about nothing special and one to Smoke with an update on the absent Sparrow. I studied the Saint Cloud map and memorized side street escapes to two state highways and the interstate that looped by the city. I didn’t eat or drink anything, except a few sips of water, for fear I would have to leave my post to find a restroom.
Hour after hour passed with no sign of Dr. Royce Sparrow. The sun finally set at eight fourteen. I watched the darkness settle in for another twenty minutes then climbed out of the car. Slowly. After all those hours of sitting, I was very stiff. I could relate to how Gramps felt. The more he sat, the harder it was for him to move. I resolved to take him on more frequent walks.
I stretched. I walked around the car. I did a few jumping jacks and half push-ups from the car hood. Still no Sparrow.
Edberg phoned me shortly before eleven to get my location. “Hasn’t shown up yet, huh?”
“No.”
“If he’s off all week, he probably is out of town. But Kenner says we stay put until Sparrow returns. Kenner’ll be up here tomorrow, at the courthouse, taking care of that search warrant.”
“I hope you brought something to read.”
“Are you kidding? That’d put me to sleep in about two minutes. Happens every time I try to read at night. I’ll stay in the shadows and get out of the car when I need to, play solitaire and tic tac toe on my phone. And I brought some crossword puzzle books.”
“That was smart.”
Edberg drove by me and nodded. “Take off.”
“I’m gone.”
44
Chief Deputy Kenner pulled six deputies off the road to keep Sparrow’s house under watch twenty-four hours a day. They were all fairly new hires and still on probation. Kenner assigned them four-hour shifts and swore them to secrecy, assuring them their probation would end abruptly if word leaked out to anyone what they were doing. They didn’t know any specifics. But if anyone entered the home, they were to call the chief deputy immediately. I knew all of them well enough to know they would follow Kenner’s directive. They valued their jobs.
I was anxious for Gregory Trippen to return and even more anxious for Jeffrey Trippen to turn up, walking down a county road or eating in a county restaurant.
Smoke phoned Wednesday morning sounding more like himself. He didn’t sneeze or cough during the entire conversation. I walked outside with my cell phone. I was not one hundred percent convinced there was only the one bug in my house.
“Kenner’s on his way to Saint Cloud now. He’s hoping to get the warrant signed within a couple of hours. His buddy up there will be with him when he brings it to the judge. Kenner, Edberg, you, and I are the selected search team. Edberg’ll be at my house in an hour. We can swing by to pick you up.”
“Nah, I’ll drive over.”
“Don’t forget your vest.”
Deputy Holman was near Sparrow’s house in a different stakeout vehicle than I had had the day before. The task force had a number of them. He was crouched down in the driver’s seat looking at a magazine. Chief Deputy Kenner had sent him a message saying we were going in on a search warrant and to keep watch for any unusual activity, and to call his cell phone if there was. We purposely ignored him when we pulled up, and he seemed to do the same.
Edberg, Smoke, and I were in Smoke’s personal vehicle, a silver Ford Expedition. Edberg rode shotgun, and I was in the back seat behind Smoke. Kenner was behind us in his unmarked squad car, a gray Crown Victoria. Smoke stopped a block away from Sparrow’s house and parked. Kenner did the same. Edberg got out, walked to Sparrow’s house, and rang the doorbell. He waited a minute, rang it again, and banged on the door. Edberg turned our direction and jerked his head to one side in a quick movement.
Smoke, Kenner, and I piled out of our respective vehicles. I glanced back at Kenner, checking to see if he had remembered the ramming bar. He held it in his right hand. We quickly and cautiously made our way to the back door. We knew no one had entered or left the house for twenty-four hours, and there were no signs of life inside. But there was a slim possibility someone was there. Edberg held his position in front.
Smoke pounded on the back door and shouted, “Open up, it’s the sheriff’s department and we have a warrant to search the premises.” There was no response.
Smok
e nodded at Kenner who lifted the bar, both hands on the metal grip, and forced it into the door. The lock released on the third push. Kenner set the bar on the ground, and the three of us drew our weapons and entered the house into the kitchen. We checked the kitchen, then the dining room on our way to the front entry, off the living room. Smoke opened the door for Edberg, and he stepped in.
“Sheriff’s department. Anybody home?” Kenner called. There was no answer. “Okay, we’ll finish sweeping through the house, make sure no one is here, dead or alive, then dig deeper. Edberg and Aleckson, take the basement and garage. Dawes, you and I will finish this level, then head upstairs.”
It took about five minutes to discover no one else was in the house. Dead or alive. We regrouped in the living room.
“It doesn’t seem like anyone really lives here,” I said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Edberg agreed.
“It’s like one of the models for the Parade of Homes,” Kenner said.
Smoke scanned the room with his eyes. “Yeah, just enough perfectly placed furniture in each room, tasteful art on the walls, decorative pieces set just so. Twenty classics on the bookshelves. There’s not even much in the closets. Clothes in the master bedroom closet, some hygiene stuff in the bathroom.”
“Basement’s virtually empty. There’re two vehicles in the garage, but that’s about it. Not even a rake. Must hire a lawn service,” Edberg added.
“It won’t take hours to look through everything, that’s for sure,” Kenner said. He gave us our assignments, and we divided up again.
My first room was the master bedroom. I pulled on latex gloves and got to work. The shelf above the clothes rod in the closet was empty, but there were a number of suits, shirts, and pants hanging from the rod. I looked in the pockets of his clothes for slips of paper with incriminating information. No slips of paper, or anything else. There were four pair of dress shoes and one pair of athletic shoes sitting on the floor. Nothing else was in the closet.
An Altar by the River Page 24
