by A. E. Howe
“How long has he been here?”
“Craig has been helping out here since he finished his probation two years ago. He lives in unit one,” Marco said.
“Have you ever seen him drive a light-colored van?” I asked as we came up to the door of his duplex.
“I can’t remember. I know he’s always borrowing vehicles. His switching vehicles caused some trouble at first. We keep an eye on who comes and goes, and we were getting reports of different vehicles. Once we figured out that it was Craig borrowing cars from his family, it was cool. We gave him a marked parking space so we’d know, okay, that’s Craig’s car of the week or whatever.” He knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again and a big guy with a crew cut whose face was covered by tattoos finally opened the door.
“Oh, hey, Mr. Marco,” the man said in a polite tone that seemed at odds with the prison tattoos.
“What’s up, Mickey? Is Craig here?”
Mickey poked his head out and looked around. “He’s out working. Hey, I got a problem with…” Mickey went on to tell Marco about some issue he had with his employer. We heard a leaf blower start up around back of the duplexes.
“That’s him,” Marco told us.
“We’ll find him,” I said.
“Good deal. If you need anything, just call me.” Marco turned back to Mickey and went into the duplex with him.
We circled around back and found Craig blowing leaves off of the heat pumps behind the duplex.
“Yeah, what do you guys want?” he said after he’d turned off the blower and taken off his earmuffs.
“Just want to ask you a few questions.”
“Always,” he snarled, but he set the blower down. “What?”
“Where were you Tuesday night?”
“Tuesday… I was here.”
“All night?”
“Yeah, off and on.”
“What does off and on mean?”
“I went out for smokes. Maybe a beer. Mostly, I was here.” He looked at me with the dead eyes of a hardened criminal. He was a professional-level liar, so the only way to know if he was telling the truth was to get corroboration.
“Who else saw you?”
“Mickey. He lives in the same apartment. We watched a basketball game for a while. Yeah, I got him some smokes too.”
“Where’d you buy the cigarettes and beer?”
“The Fast Mart by the railroad tracks.”
“You drive or walk?”
“Drove.”
“What car did you drive?”
“Same one that’s out there now. That piece of crap Taurus.”
“Have you had access to or driven a van in the last month?”
“Nope. Just that Taurus.”
I thought about asking where he got the Taurus, but it really didn’t matter. We let him get back to work, and we went to talk with Mickey and Marco again. Nothing they said contradicted Craig.
I put checking the Fast Lane’s CCTV on my to-do list. I called them and told the manager I’d want to look at Tuesday night’s footage. Management at the Fast Mart was pretty cooperative since their store probably accounted for ten percent of our calls.
“Lunch?” I asked Tolland when we got back to the car.
“Sounds good.”
“Why haven’t we found Jillian’s car?” Tolland asked me while we were waiting on our food at Deep Pit Bar-b-que. “Almost all of the abductions took place near the victim’s car. You’ve had your people and the Calhoun police looking for a couple of days. So where’s the car?”
I thought about this for a few moments. “It’s not in Leon?”
“Nothing’s shown up on our BOLO yet. We probably need to expand it to counties within a hundred miles. Other possibilities?”
“The car is somewhere where it’s not easy to see. Maybe she parked it in a private garage or put a cover over it. Though neither seems likely.”
“Private garage. Like she went to visit a friend and parked in their garage?”
“Unlikely. She didn’t have many friends. At least not close friends, and by everyone’s account she didn’t have a boyfriend or girlfriend. And, besides, unless they’re the killer they would have noticed that her car was still in their garage. Maybe a private parking garage?” I suggested, and then responded to my own suggestion. “Not that we have any in Adams County.”
Tolland pulled out a notebook and made a note. “I’ll ask the Tallahassee police to have their patrols check out all the parking garages in town.”
“Of course…” I saw where Tolland had been leading me. “Maybe the killer hid the car or disposed of it somewhere.”
“Why?”
“Because, unlike the other murders, there was something about the car that might have given him away.”
“I think that’s very likely. He’s getting sloppier.”
“Something about the car. Maybe he got in it and was afraid that we’d find DNA or fingerprints.”
“Maybe. But I think there’s a real possibility that he couldn’t leave it to be found where it was.”
Our food arrived, so we quit talking and gave our barbecue the attention it deserved.
“So I hear you don’t want to be a deputy anymore?” Tolland asked when we were both finished with the majority of our lunch.
“I’m not that good at it,” I said, a bit irritated that someone—most likely Dad—had been talking about me.
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” he stated.
“I almost got people killed last month.”
“Hell, I almost got someone killed when I ran through a yellow light last week. The world is a dangerous place.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Look, the truth is you take the job seriously. You aren’t some yahoo running around enjoying the privileges that a gun and badge can give you. You understand that it’s about respect for the law, duty and responsibility for the men and women you work with, as well as for the people you are sworn to protect. That’s a good thing. Of course, you’re smart so you over-think everything. You have to learn to compartmentalize better, that’s all.”
“I’m not like a lot of the other deputies,” I said, shaking my head and trying to figure a way out of this line of questioning.
“Neither was your father. That’s what I was trying to get at earlier. Sure, he always wanted to be in law enforcement, but he came at it from a different angle than most of us. Your dad has always been about the community. He’s a great sheriff because he sees the whole picture, not just the law enforcement side of it.”
“I don’t want to end up living a life of regrets. I see the burden that the job has been to Dad.”
“We all have regrets. Like this case. I know your dad regrets not catching this bastard, but I’ll bet every penny my ex-wives took from me that he has never regretted hunting the SOB.” Tolland let that hang in the air for a moment. “Okay, I’ve busted your balls enough. What’s on tap for this afternoon?”
“We’ve got a couple more on Pete’s suspect list.”
“I’m game. There are four investigators with our office checking Leon County suspects for their whereabouts on Tuesday. If none of us comes up with a smoking gun, my suggestion is that we bring everyone together for a meeting to brainstorm the case.”
“More ideas couldn’t hurt.”
“Exactly.”
We paid and left. We may not have had much of a plan, but at least it was a plan.
Both of the afternoon’s interviews all but cleared the individuals, so Tolland and I agreed to put a meeting together. He said he’d like to bring his people over to Adams County so that he could show them the locations of the abductions and where the victims lived. We also agreed that a meeting afterhours and away from our offices would provide the most distraction-free environment for everyone.
After Tolland left, I called Pete. He assured me that he was feeling better and would be back on his feet in a couple of days. I filled him in on all the interviews. He
suggested that we have the meeting in Winston’s back room so it was on neutral ground and casual enough to help everyone open up.
Chapter Twenty-Five
By Sunday afternoon, not much had changed except that Pete was officially declared a flu survivor and everything was a go for our Monday evening meeting. Jillian Grey’s car was still missing. We had compiled a list of the farms, stores and restaurants that Homegrown worked with and conducted interviews at most of them, but we still hadn’t come up with any leads.
Cara and I were taking a walk around my property, enjoying the sun and the cool winter afternoon. We held hands as we walked and watched Alvin sniff every tree and bush.
“It must be awful to be hunting someone as dangerous as this… maniac and not have anything to go on,” Cara said, squeezing my hand. I knew she’d brought it up because I wasn’t having much luck keeping my mind on anything else. I kept wondering what we might have missed.
“I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been very good company today,” I apologized.
“I’m not complaining. I understand, really.”
“We’re doing everything we can, but the leads have dried up. There’s a lot of forensic evidence that’s been collected, but most of it isn’t going to do us any good until we arrest someone.”
“Can’t you eliminate some of your suspects since you already have their DNA? You do, right?” she asked.
It felt very strange talking to Cara about the case. And I had to be careful not to tell her anything that we were holding back from the public. Not that I didn’t trust her, but if something did leak and there was an investigation, I’d want to be able to say I hadn’t told anyone.
“You’re right. We have DNA from the more hardcore suspects who’ve been arrested in the last ten years or so. The problem is that we don’t have a DNA sample that we know conclusively is from the killer.”
“That makes sense.”
“We’ve got our meeting tomorrow evening. I’m hoping we’ll come out of it with at least a few good ideas on how to move forward. But there aren’t any guarantees. Maybe we’ll all get in the room and argue for three hours. Many murderers have walked free because of the incompetence of the investigators.”
She bumped into to me playfully. “I have confidence in you.”
“We’ve got a lot of great investigators in the area.”
“Is it okay if I think of you as one of them?”
“It’s a foolish choice on your part, but I guess it’s okay,” I told her with a smile.
“You really kind of like this work, don’t you?”
“Some days. I like it better when I catch the bad guy.”
“So, really, you just quit because you got scared.” Coming out of the blue like that, what she said should have made me mad, but it didn’t. She said it so softly and with such compassion that I had to admit she was mostly right.
“Yeah, kind of. Scared that I was going to get someone killed,” I said.
“Your dad’s a pretty good sheriff, isn’t he?” she asked.
“I hate to admit it sometimes, but he’s one of the best I’ve seen.”
“He doesn’t cut you any special slack because you’re his son, does he?”
I stopped and pulled her around. “Okay, what are you driving at?” I said quizzically.
“Answer the question. Does your father treat you any differently than anyone else?” Cara demanded, smiling at me.
“You know, you could quit your job at the vet and go to law school,” I said and she hit me lightly in the chest. “Okay, okay. He does treat me differently. Dad’s tougher on me because I’m his son.”
“So don’t you think he’d fire you if he thought you were a danger to anyone? Or incompetent?”
I took both her shoulders in my hands and looked her squarely in the eyes. “Where are you going with this?” I asked gently, knowing exactly what she was getting at, but not wanting to admit it.
“It seems clear to everyone else that you aren’t some loose cannon about to bash through the side of the ship and destroy everything. So you’re just using that as an excuse. If you don’t want to be a deputy anymore, that’s fine, but I want you to be sure that’s what you want. You need to be really honest with yourself.”
I pulled her into a hug. “I don’t know for sure what I want,” I said as she squeezed me tightly. “Let me catch this monster first and then we’ll see.”
On Monday Pete and I followed up on a few leads that had come in over the weekend—mostly people who thought they had seen Jillian or her car on Tuesday night. During the afternoon we worked on a presentation for the meeting at Winston’s. Pete had already arranged to use the back room for the meeting and Winston had even offered to serve pastries and coffee for everyone.
At six o’clock Pete and I packed everything up and headed over to the restaurant to get set up for the meeting. By seven we had a room full of investigators and forensic technicians, including Marcus. Dad had reluctantly excluded Shantel since she had a personal stake in the crimes, which a defense attorney could use against us if we ever got to a trial.
Cedrick Tolland came up to me. “Your dad on his way?”
“He had to drop Mauser off with Jamie, the dog sitter. His car’s in the shop.”
“That dog.” Tolland shook his head. “I remember you all having those monsters years ago.”
“Mom swore she felt better when one of our Great Danes was watching me than when she left me with Dad. Of course, they were all better trained than Mauser.”
Dad finally came charging through the door.
“Sorry, folks. Grab some coffee real quick and find a seat. Rick, why don’t you come up here with us.”
Tolland came to the front of the room and stood with Dad, Pete and me. Once everyone had found a seat, Dad looked at the dry-erase boards we’d set up. One of them listed all the original murders. Dad went over to it.
“Tolland and I are not here as your supervisors. Our primary reason for being here is because we were the lead investigators on the original set of murders. And this meeting is taking place because we failed. We couldn’t find the man who committed those atrocities. But I look around this room and I’m reassured. I see men and women who are dedicated, professional and probably a lot smarter than me, and maybe even smarter than Tolland.” There were a few chuckles. “Now I’m going to turn this over to the current lead investigators Tolland, Macklin and Henley.”
There was an agreement to focus on the new murders and we went over each of them thoroughly. We had representatives from all specialties—investigative, crime scene and lab tech—and each was able to give their take on the individual murders. Many of the folks in the room had only been privy to the facts that had to do with their specialties, but by talking about all the evidence together we were able to get some different perspectives.
The van was now front and center in the investigation because it was a solid piece of evidence that we could look for. Tolland had invited some of the Leon County tech guys and they had come up with some algorithms to narrow down the search through VIN records, the DMV and automotive service providers to provide us with some quality lists of vans in the area. While I didn’t fully understand how it all worked, I had hopes that it might lead to something.
Next we created a chart of the women’s movements and locations. Each of them had some connection to a restaurant or bar. How did that figure in? Since they didn’t all work at the same place or visit the same place, vans connected to various service industries would be a priority.
One of our IT guys reported on the results of his search of the online files for recurring names. So far, nothing stood out. We all felt like we were looking for someone who would be trying to stay close to the investigation, though it could always be a person who was associated with it by virtue of their job. I think all of us cringed when we were forced to admit that it could have been someone in law enforcement. It was always a possibility.
By ten-thirty we were all about
brain-dead. We’d agreed on some actionable tasks, which we assigned to the most capable people. We also agreed to meet again in two weeks if we hadn’t uncovered any evidence that broke the case open.
The meeting ended and we said our goodbyes. As Pete and I gathered up our materials, Winston and Mary came in and started cleaning up the dishes.
“Appreciate everything,” Pete said to them.
“No problem. You all figure anything out?” Winston asked as he emptied plates and passed them to Mary.
“You know, it’s all footwork and phone calls. Or, these days, it’s all emails and texts. Just going to take time. You all have been a big help.”
“Anything for my best customer! Come in tomorrow evening, bring the wife and girls, and I’ll cook you the best prime rib in town.” Winston smiled and handed Mary a glass. “Mary will bake you her special chocolate chip pecan pie.”
“Sure,” Mary said with a little less enthusiasm than her father. She looked tired.
“Jamie’s coming with the van,” Dad said as he walked by, his phone in hand. “Walk out with me.”
I turned and fell in step with him. “You didn’t drive?”
“I had Jamie drop me off so he could take Mauser for a doggie sundae at Buster’s.”
“Spoiled dog,” I muttered.
Dad ignored me. “I feel good about our progress. During the first investigation there was tension between the two departments. Things are different this time around.”
“That’s good. A lot of that is because of you,” I told him, and it was true. I’d never seen Dad compromise an investigation because he felt territorial. He was the first to reach out and share information and research. “I can’t help but feel like we’re not seeing something. Something right in front of our faces.” Something was lurking in the dark recesses of my brain, but I couldn’t get a focus on it.
“I’ve felt like that with most of the major investigations I’ve worked on. Sometimes it turns out to be true, but other times there just wasn’t anything there to be seen. The feeling is the same when you’re working on any difficult problem. You always think that the solution is just out of reach. Maybe that’s the way our minds motivate us to keep working when we have a seemingly impossible task.”
