by Jeff Siebold
She nodded.
A few minutes later the door opened and a stocky man the approximate size of Dylan Jones walked out of the bar. He looked around carefully, then turned and locked the deadbolt on the door of the bar. Then he walked to the only car remaining in the parking lot, a white Subaru hatchback parked under a streetlight, and got in.
“Let’s go,” said Kimmy when the Subaru had disappeared around a corner.
Zeke nodded. He and Kimmy crossed the street and got in their rental car. Zeke drove as Kimmy watched the GPS monitor and read him the turns. They had attached the GPS tracking device to Dylan’s car while he was inside closing the bar.
A few minutes later, they found themselves across the river in Conshohocken. They tracked the white hatchback and found it parked in front of a one-story brick house, a duplex two streets off the main road.
“There it is,” said Zeke. “I’ll park on down the street, out of sight.”
The hatchback was empty.
“I wonder who lives there,” asked Zeke, referring to the brick house.
“Don’t know,” said Kimmy. Zeke was watching his rearview mirror.
They settled in, watching the house and the car.
“We should be able to tune into their energy,” said Kimmy with a quick smile.
“I’m sorry?” asked Zeke, preoccupied.
“Everyone in the universe is connected, right?” she continued.
“They are,” he said, half a question, watching the mirror.
“Listen,” she said, shifting around in her seat to face Zeke. “You know how sometimes you feel like you’re on the same wavelength with someone else? Like you finish their sentences for them or know what they’re thinking?”
“Sort of,” said Zeke.
“That’s the beginning of it,” said Kimmy. “I believe that we’re capable of much more.”
“Like what?”
“Like communicating without speaking, like sharing positive energy and healing, eliminating fear and anxiety, and removing the restrictions...”
“Restrictions?” asked Zeke.
“Sure, the things that get in the way of our energy flow. The things that inhibit us.”
“What causes the restrictions?” he asked, checking the mirror again.
“Life, Zeke. Just day-to-day life creates all kinds of problems for our energy flow. It inhibits our real potential, and most of us let that happen.”
“Hmm,” said Zeke.
“Think of what we could do without restrictions,” Kimmy said. “It’s amazing to consider. Our beings have so much potential.”
Zeke paused and checked the mirror again, thinking of ways to end this somewhat awkward conversation. Then he saw motion in the mirror.
“OK,” said Zeke, “there are two of them and they’re moving now. Let’s stay with them.”
Kimmy looked in her passenger side mirror and saw two men, Dylan Jones and another man, each carrying boxes from the house to the parked hatchback. It was dark, but the streetlights provided enough light for them to be certain that Dylan Jones was one of the two. “That’s him,” said Kimmy, and she activated the GPS tracker again.
The two men put their boxes in the hatch of the white vehicle and then got in the front seats. Dylan Jones took keys from his pocket as he got in on the driver’s side.
The white Subaru drove past them and turned right at the first intersection.
“Let’s go back for a minute,” said Zeke, as he turned the car around.
Chapter 53
“Do you still have them on the GPS monitor?” asked Zeke.
“I do,” said Kimmy. She called out some directions, and Zeke quickly caught up. The Subaru was in sight again. The detour back to the brick duplex had been fruitful. There was a paper nameplate under the buzzer next to the right side of the front door that read, ‘Luc Jones.’
The Subaru drove along Interstate 476, following the speed limit and driving mostly in the right lane. At the Schuylkill Expressway it exited and drove west two exits to Henderson Road. They drove through a light industrial area, past a car wash and a flooring store and automotive repair shops and a cemetery. Suddenly the white hatchback slowed and then turned right, leaving the Expressway. Zeke followed, about a hundred yards back, and then stopped before the turn. With his headlights still pointing along the Expressway, they watched the Subaru turn right again into a mini-storage facility. The lit sign, visible from the Expressway, read “Storage Nation.”
“Pretty late to visit your mini-storage, isn’t it?” asked Kimmy with a frown. She was fidgeting in the seat, working between the GPS tracker, her phone and her iPad.
* * *
Zeke drove the rental car a hundred yards past the entrance to the mini-storage, pulled to the shoulder and killed the headlights.
“There’s a keypad at the entrance for 24-hour access,” Kimmy commented. “I saw it as we drove by. And there’s a parking area up near the front office.”
Zeke nodded. The property was completely surrounded by a six-foot high hurricane wire fence with three-strand barbed wire atop of it.
“They’re probably either dropping off a batch of pharmaceuticals or getting some out of storage to ship,” said Zeke. “Either way, we may have caught them with the drugs.”
“I’ll call it in,” said Kimmy.
“No, hold on,” said Zeke, “Let’s make sure they’ve got the drugs with them. I want to get a closer look.” He switched off the interior light, quietly opened the driver side door, and stepped out and around behind the car. In a moment he was invisible.
Zeke moved back to the hurricane fence and followed it around the perimeter of the Storage Nation property. At one point, between buildings he was able to see the white Subaru parked in front of an open unit about halfway down the middle aisle. There was no one else in sight. Zeke noted the location of the unit and sat in the grass to reduce his visibility profile.
A minute and a half later, two men exited the storage unit, each carrying four standard-sized UPS boxes. They were visible from the bright light shining from the Storage Nation sign above them. The packages they carried were small boxes, maybe eighteen inches long and a foot wide. The three-inch high boxes were stacked, and each man held four of them in front of him with both hands. They stepped to the car, and Dylan Jones set his boxes on the roof of the Subaru. He pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the vehicle, stepped back to the storage unit, pulled the overhead door down and padlocked it. He then stepped back to the car, opened a rear door and set the boxes from the roof in the back seat.
* * *
“I’ve never seen the second man before,” said Zeke, back in the car, “but the driver is definitely Dylan Jones.”
Kimmy nodded. She said, “Clive is arranging for the Conshohocken police to pick up the GPS trail, to keep tracking. And he’s asked them to keep an eye on the brick house, Luc Jones’ place.”
“Right,” said Zeke. “It looks like they’re about to distribute the next shipment, probably tomorrow—eight overnight delivery boxes.”
“This isn’t technically Lower Merion, but I called Detective Harrison. He says he’ll work out the jurisdictional issues. The police in this area work together a lot, since the towns are so small and so close together,” said Kimmy.
“Good,” said Zeke.
“What’s your plan?” asked Kimmy.
“I’d like to get a closer look at the storage unit,” Zeke said.
“I figured you would. I asked Harrison if he’d contact the owner of Storage Nation and get the gate key code,” she said. “He’ll call back when he has it.”
* * *
Zeke drove up to the gate, lowered his window and punched in a four-digit code. The gate slowly rolled back and out of his way.
“The unit is midway down the middle aisle,” said Zeke. “Good location, not really visible from the front or from the road. It’s pretty well hidden from view.”
Kimmy was in the seat next to Zeke, with her
Jericho 941 handgun in her right hand. She was holding her phone to her ear with her left hand, waiting for Clive to answer. She nodded in response to Zeke.
“Let’s check Dylan Jones’ unit for drugs,” Zeke said. “And maybe a murder weapon?”
Zeke led the way through the dark to the storage unit door and turned and kept watch as Kimmy fiddled with the padlock.
“It’s an Abloy padlock,” she said under her breath. “Great.”
But a minute later Zeke heard a distinct click and then the metal wheels of the overhead door. He glanced into the unit as the door cleared his line of sight, and the overhead light clicked on. He saw some metal shelves affixed to one plywood wall and three blue barrels sitting on the floor. Standing behind the barrels was a wooden makeshift workbench covered with flat, empty UPS boxes and a number of prepaid cell phones still sealed in their plastic containers.
Shielding the flashlight, Zeke and Kimmy stepped into the unit. On the highest shelf were two boxes, each about twice the size of a shoebox. Glancing around, Zeke saw three cardboard boxes marked as containing empty pill capsules. He reached up on the shelf and took down one of the boxes.
“Look at this,” he said.
Kimmy looked into the box. It was stacked full of currency, with fifty and one hundred-dollar bills visible across the top of the stack. Zeke riffled through a part of the box’s contents and confirmed that it was full of cash.
“Let’s see what we have here,” said Zeke, returning the first box to its shelf and taking the second one down. Inside was a stainless steel pistol along with two boxes of .22 rounds.
“There’s your MKII,” said Kimmy. “It could have been used to kill the kids.”
And Chet Burns’ wife, thought Zeke. “It’s a Hunter model, a competition pistol with the fiber optic front sight.”
The pistol was about a foot long overall and had a seven-inch barrel.
“Not hard to be accurate from across the room with this weapon,” said Kimmy.
* * *
Zeke had called ahead, and Catrin Davies had invited him in when he knocked. Now they were sitting in her library once again. The view of the side yard out the big window was bright and green with lush grass and full bushes. The recent rain seemed to have made the foliage pop, visually.
“How can I help?” she asked with her warm smile.
“I need to circle back and ask you more about your brother,” said Zeke, after a moment.
“About Dylan?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him for years.” She sat very still with her upper body stiff and her attention seemingly focused on Zeke.
She’s preparing to lie about this, thought Zeke, instinctively. Willing me to believe her.
“Yes, Dylan,” said Zeke. “He’s definitely dealing in illegal pharmaceuticals.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, suddenly looking concerned.
“I am,” said Zeke.
“Well, what can I tell you?” she said, surprised and shaking her head. Catrin Davies was wearing a light blue blouse with a pair of expensive gray slacks and black flats on her feet. She had a sophisticated look, her makeup once again a perfect complement to her features.
“He was a target pistol champion,” said Zeke.
“For years,” said Catrin. “He was very good.” She thought for a moment, silently.
Zeke watched her.
“Well,” said Catrin, “maybe it’s a misunderstanding.” She sat quietly, her attention now focused on Zeke.
“You don’t seem particularly surprised or upset,” said Zeke.
“He’s my stepbrother. We weren’t close. And...”
“And?” asked Zeke.
“Well, this isn’t the first time he’s been in trouble,” said Catrin. “That’s one of the reasons we aren’t very close.”
“The robbery?” asked Zeke.
“How did you know about that?” asked Catrin. “Oh, I remember, I mentioned that to you.”
“And it’s on his record,” said Zeke.
“Yes, it would be. Well, that was unfortunate. He was young, about twenty at the time. He was in jail for a year or so,” she said.
“Yes,” said Zeke. “Is that when he stopped target shooting?”
“That stopped it. Then he was out of jail but not allowed to have a gun,” she said.
Zeke nodded, encouraging her memories.
“Well, I’m sorry for the situation, but I’m not sure how I can help you.” She said it with some certainty. Then she smiled. There’s the sparkle, Zeke thought.
“I wanted to get a better picture of Dylan,” said Zeke. “To understand him.”
“Well, sure, I’ll tell you what I can,” she offered with little enthusiasm. “He was always sort of restless, unhappy with the way the world works. I guess,” she added slowly, thinking, “I guess that from his point of view, the world was unfair.”
“Life?” asked Zeke.
“Yes. The way things were. He was mostly angry, which came up a lot with Dylan.”
Your parents were killed several years ago,” said Zeke. “How did that affect him, his dad dying?”
“He was angry way before that—a long time before that.”
“What was he involved with?” asked Zeke. “What do you remember?”
“He was really into shooting. Very good at it. But he mostly hung around with guys his own age, his friends. But remember, I was much younger, and still at home. He’d moved out.” She thought, then shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t help more.”
“I appreciate you sharing this, Catrin,” said Zeke.
“Do you think this’ll help?” she asked.
“You never really know what’s going to help,” he said, smiling. “By the way, do you have access to the student records at Brecknock?” Zeke asked.
“I have a set of keys,” said Catrin. “Why?”
“I’d be interested in seeing the school records for Susie Lopper and Will Burns,” said Zeke. “As part of our research into the motivation for the killings.”
“No stone unturned?” asked Catrin. “As a counselor, I have access to those records. If you can get permission from the school- I think you’ll need a warrant- I’d be glad to get those for you.”
“Very well,” said Zeke. “I’ll call you when we’re ready.”
Chapter 54
Zeke and Kimmy arrived at the Brecknock school at nine fifteen to meet with Catrin and examine the victims’ school records. It was still early summer, and there was no activity visible at the school. It was an expansive two-story, stone structure with turrets and towers.
There were two cars in the parking lot that morning, a maroon Mercedes and a light blue Volvo. Zeke parked between them, and he and Kimmy walked toward the building’s main entrance.
“Detective Harrison was able to contact the school, get a warrant and get them to let us look at the records for Susie and Will. Apparently, since they were victims of a crime, the police have jurisdiction,” said Zeke.
Kimmy nodded.
Zeke pulled the heavy wooden door open and held it for Kimmy while she walked into the building. On the outside, Brecknock was formidable, built over a hundred years ago. It looked more like a castle than a school.
Inside, the space seemed to expand. On a short flight of steps downward, the high ceiling and tile floor gave the illusion of a substantial cavern.
Catrin Davies greeted them when they entered.
* * *
“There’s a skeleton crew here during summer break,” said Catrin Davies with a smile. “In the office, I mean.”
Zeke and Kimmy walked beside her down a wide hall with classrooms on both sides.
“We’ll be going in here,” she continued, moving to a door and unlocking it. The sign stenciled on the door’s glass read, “Administration.”
Catrin stepped into the room and walked to a row of light switches. She threw three switches, and some of the fluorescent overhead lights came on.
“You wanted to see the school records
for Will Burns and Susie Lopper,” Catrin said.
“Yes,” Zeke nodded. “Like I said, we’re looking at background, trying to determine the motivation behind their killings.”
“And you brought the appropriate paperwork?” she asked.
“I have the warrants right here,” said Zeke.
He produced two legal documents, which Catrin reviewed quickly. She nodded, folded the papers and set them in an in-basket on a nearby desk. “OK,” she said, as she walked to a filing cabinet. “Where do you want to start?”
“Let’s look at the student records for each of them,” said Zeke. “Grades, classes, attendance, extra curricular activities, clubs, all of it.”
“Sure,” said Catrin. “Susie Lopper first.” She unlocked the cabinet and started looking through the files in a drawer marked “K through M.”
Zeke stood near a wooden counter about four and a half feet high, which separated the room into two distinct areas. The area nearest the door was apparently a waiting area, and the area on other side of the counter was an office area that housed several desks and filing cabinets along both walls.
“Here’s Susie Lopper, well, Suzanne G. Lopper,” Catrin said, handing a thick file folder to Zeke. She looked around the room. “You can make copies there.” She pointed to a copy machine against one wall near the door.
Zeke walked to the copier and turned it on. He started looking through the file while the machine warmed up.
“And here’s Will Burns, William H. Burns, actually,” she said, setting a thicker folder on the counter, also from a locked file drawer.
“Thanks,” said Zeke. He handed Susie Lopper’s file to Kimmy and began to spread the Will Burns paperwork out on the counter.
“Do you mind if I leave you here for a few minutes?” Catrin asked, her back to them as she locked the file drawers again. “I need to make a call.”
* * *
“Did anything jump out at you?” asked Kimmy. They’d left the school and were walking back to the rental car. Kimmy was full of energy, almost skipping, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she walked next to Zeke.
