Exposed

by C. M. Sutter

  Max arrived at the small town of Boscobel. He’d have to enter the village, then turn back east to get to the penitentiary. Surrounded by farm country, he felt right at home in the area—he’d been going there for years. The prison was a maximum security facility for men, often holding the worst of the worst.

  Max reached the parking lot of WSPF and followed the long sidewalk to the visitors’ entrance. He’d have a thirty-minute wait while Darryl was being processed for the visit. Every third month, inmates were allowed one special circumstance visit through a Plexiglas divider. Normal visiting hours were between eight and three o’clock daily in the visitors’ center. Max considered this visit a very special circumstance. He showed his ID when he signed in, then a guard led him to a holding area where he was searched for contraband. All of his loose items needed to be placed in a locker where he’d retrieve them after the visit. The locker key was the only thing allowed with Max into the visiting booth.

  “Number four, you’re next,” the guard called out as his eyes scanned the few people sitting in the waiting area. “Please stand.” Max did as he was told. “Come this way, sir.” Max followed.

  He was taken through one more room before he reached the visitation area. A final check for disallowed items was performed, then the guard nodded. The heavy steel door slid open, and Max was ushered through.

  “Take a seat there.” The guard pointed at a stool. “Prisoner 450-A72 will be out shortly, and your half hour will begin once he’s seated.” The guard turned and left the way he had entered.

  Max waited. He rearranged himself on that small stool several times. His back began to ache. He rolled his neck and drummed his fingers on the stainless steel counter and waited some more. He finally heard movement coming from the hallway beyond his view. Voices echoed off the stark walls, and footsteps sounded on the tiled floors. A door opened, and Max saw Darryl pass through.

  Darryl Sims was thin, unlike Max, but also tall. His dark blond hair had grown long, and his face was as wrinkled as old shoe leather. His disheveled appearance made him look much older than his sixty years. Prison hadn’t been kind, and he was still as mean and nasty as ever, except to Max.

  “Your half hour starts now,” the guard said.

  Darryl took a seat across the counter from Max, separated by the divider. They spoke through the six-inch screened circle located in the center of the window.

  “Good to see you, son. What’s going on?”

  Max ground his fingertips into his temples. “Damn cops. You know the property is sold and the developer is pushing to get me out of there. Every few weeks, the sheriff’s department sends a deputy to the house, and they smack an eviction notice on the door.”

  “Right—did something change? They’ve been doing that for months.”

  “Oh yeah, you could say that. Now they’re threatening to lock me up if I’m not out by tomorrow.”

  Darryl rubbed his forehead. A worried expression furrowed his brows. He leaned forward and spoke in a whisper. “What about the field and woods?”

  “No clue.” Max noticed where the closest camera was, then he cupped his hands around his mouth. “I have to get out of there and hide somewhere. When those bulldozers come in, all hell’s going to break loose.”

  Darryl smirked. “They’ll think I did all of it. I’m a lifer, anyway. What difference does it make?”

  “I don’t want them asking me questions. You know what pressure does to me. That damn sergeant drew her gun on me yesterday.”

  “What?”

  “I told you I’m not good under pressure. There were two of them. One was a man, and the other was a woman. The woman said she was a sergeant at the sheriff’s department. Stupid bitch pulled her weapon out and aimed it right at my chest. She said her name was Sergeant Monroe, and she thought she was hot shit with that gun in her hand.”

  “Monroe? How old did she look?”

  “Younger than me. Early thirties, I’d guess—why?”

  “I wonder what the odds are of her being Tom Monroe’s daughter.”

  “Who is that?”

  “You might not remember names from twenty years ago, but I sure as hell do. They’re burned in my mind forever. Tom Monroe, a young detective at the sheriff’s department at the time, was the man that arrested me and testified against me in court. It’s because of that bastard, and Judge Gardino, the judge that sentenced me, that I’m doing a life term here.”

  “What do you want me to do, Pa?”

  “Have you emptied out the house?”

  Max huffed. “And done what with the stuff? They gave me two days to vacate. So far I’ve loaded the van with anything that could incriminate me.” Max’s eyes darted to the cameras located at each corner. He whispered to his father, “I have all the weapons and memorabilia out, if you know what I mean.”

  Darryl nodded. “There isn’t a computer in the house, right?”

  “Nope, I just have my smartphone.”

  “Okay, once you leave, you’ll have to hunker down somewhere that you’ll get Internet service. You need to find out about that woman and Tom Monroe. Get their history, find out where they live, and see if they’re related. Look up that judge and his family too. It will keep you occupied. Go through the house again and grab anything and everything that you can jam into the van. Look through papers, old documents, and bank statements—burn everything except what you need.” Darryl paused as if in thought. He pressed his wrinkled forehead with his fingertips. “Listen carefully, son. Years ago, your uncle Lee had a cabin in a secluded woods south of Green River Falls. Do you remember the place?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I’m sure I could find it again.”

  “Good. That might work, and as far as I know, it’s been vacant for years. Go there and lie low for a month or two. You can fish for your dinner. Go to town when you need to use the Internet, otherwise keep your phone turned off. There probably isn’t electricity at that cabin, anyway. Find out as much as you can about that bitch sergeant and Tom Monroe. See what he’s up to these days. Get information on that judge and his whereabouts too. Come back next week during regular visiting hours and update me. Remember, keep that phone off unless you’re using it. Cops can track any kind of phone by the closest cell tower.”

  “What am I supposed to do for money?”

  “Call the banker and tell him to release the trust fund your mama set up years ago. It was being held back until you turned forty. You always had your grandma’s money to live off of, anyway. You might get penalized for drawing it out early, but what choice do you have?”

  Max nodded.

  The metal door slid open, and the guard entered. “Your time is up, Sims. Back to your cell.”

  Darryl gave his son a wink and walked out of the room.

  Max left with a new mission. He didn’t have the private sanctuary where he’d conduct business anymore. For now, his new focus would be on that woman from the sheriff’s department—Sergeant Monroe—her family, and Judge Gardino.

  Max memorized Darryl’s instructions and returned to the homestead to spend his last night there. He’d start a bonfire and burn everything that could be incriminating. In the morning, with a loaded van, he’d leave the residence for good.

  Chapter 10

  “Sorry, Jade, but it’s a burner phone. It’s going to take a court order or a stroke of luck to find out who owns it.”

  “The stroke-of-luck part being we ping its location?” I sat downstairs in the tech department, talking to Billy about the phone number on the ad.

  “Yeah, but it’s not going to give us a definitive location, just a triangulated area. Call the newspaper and find out who placed the ad.”

  “I will, but I was hoping to go an easier route. They’ll want a warrant, and that’s going to take time. I’ll see what Clark says.” I stood and pushed the roller chair against the wall before I walked out. “Thanks, Billy.”

  He nodded and got back to work. Upstairs, I knocked on Clark’s office door.
/>   He glanced up from his computer screen and waved me in. “What’s up, Jade?”

  “Boss, can you request a warrant for me?”

  “Why?”

  “To speed things up in this search for Deborah French. Jack is out with Billings and Clayton interviewing Deborah’s friends, and I was going to work here and figure out who owns the phone number attached to the ad.”

  Clark leaned back in the oversized leather desk chair. “And?”

  “And Billy hit a dead end. It’s a burner phone. A court order to identify the owner of that phone number would take the same amount of time as a warrant for the newspaper ad. It’s a horse apiece.”

  “Let’s see what the guys have to say when they get back.” The lieutenant looked at the clock. “It’s almost closing time at the courthouse, anyway. I’ll make a decision on the warrant tomorrow.”

  The security door between the bull pen and the dispatch counter opened at five thirty. Jack, Adam, and Chad walked through. Clark rose from his desk and joined us.

  “What’s the word?” he asked as he pulled up a chair.

  Jack sat while Clayton and Billings filled their coffee cups.

  “Not a lot, boss,” Billings said as he headed to his desk. “Clayton and I interviewed three of the girls, and Jack took the only guy and the last girl on the ‘friends’ list. Apparently the girls work together at a coffee shop in town. Yesterday was Deborah’s day off, and she’d mentioned how she was going to look for additional part-time work. They were supposed to get together last night and hang out for a while, but Deborah never showed up. Each friend said they tried her cell phone, and none of them got through.”

  Jack opened his notepad and looked over his own chicken scratch, his eyebrows furrowed.

  “Have anything else to add, Jack?” Clark asked.

  “Just double-checking. My notes are primarily the same as what Billings said. Nobody talked to her yesterday at all. The text messages went unanswered too. One girl”—Jack flipped the page and looked for her name—“Macy Link, showed me the texts she sent out starting around six o’clock last night. Deborah didn’t respond to any of them.”

  “Doesn’t sound good, boss. Did any of you talk to the manager at the coffee shop?”

  Jack turned toward me and spoke up. “I went there, but the manager was at a different location. The assistant manager showed me Deborah’s schedule for the week. It looked like she was supposed to close for the next three nights. Brent, the assistant manager, said Deborah was responsible and never missed work.”

  “Okay, we have a missing girl that was last known to be going to an interview for a housekeeping job. That was what time, Jade?”

  “Around noon yesterday, sir.”

  “And nobody has seen or spoken to her since?”

  “That’s how it appears, boss.” I rose, filled my coffee cup with water, and guzzled it.

  Jack smiled. He knew I still had cotton mouth from my hangover.

  “Okay, the courthouse offices are closed, and no judge in the county will answer a personal ‘after hours’ call from me. I’ll request a warrant for the newspaper ad and the cell phone number first thing in the morning. Jade, grab Billy before he leaves. I need to know what prepaid phone carrier that number is attached to.”

  “Got it, boss.” I left the bull pen and ran downstairs to catch Billy before he clocked out for the night. I caught him as he was locking the tech department door. “Billy, Clark needs to know the cell phone carrier for that burner phone. He’s going to try getting the information about the owner. If he hits a brick wall, he’ll go the usual route.”

  “Warrant?”

  “Yep. Which do you think will go faster, the phone or newspaper?”

  “The newspaper, just because it’s local. The cell phone service belongs to a nationwide carrier. A lot of red tape is involved with that. Anyway, good luck, and the carrier is Talk-Time.”

  I groaned. “It would have to be one of the largest ones.”

  Back in the bull pen, I gave Clark the information.

  “Okay, everyone go home and get some rest. I’m thinking we’re going to get pretty busy tomorrow. Don’t forget, we have to deal with Max Sims too.” He wrote down the cell phone carrier name while he spoke. Jamison and Horbeck walked in as we were packing up. Clark waved us on. “I’ll update them. Good night, guys.”

  The four of us walked out together. “Who wants to go out for a beer?” Billings asked.

  “I ought to smack you, and thanks, but no thanks. I’m going to drink warm milk when I get home, but I have a fun idea. Let’s place a bet on Max.”

  Jack nodded. He was all in.

  “Okay, we each throw five bucks in the kitty. Write down which way you think it will go. He’s still there or he’s gone when we show up tomorrow. Whoever wins gets the money or has to split it with likeminded winners.”

  “What if we all win?” Clayton rolled his eyes at me and laughed.

  “Then we keep our money and yours too—smart aleck. We’ll figure it out in the morning. Night, guys.”

  Chapter 11

  After a surprisingly decent night’s sleep, I woke refreshed and ready to tackle the day. I wanted to get the Max Sims ordeal out of the way and concentrate on finding Deborah French. Two cups of coffee and a piece of raisin toast would hold me over until lunchtime.

  Amber woke and started the coffee while I showered. With the towel wrapped around my head, turban style, I anticipated my first cup of Colombian roast as I walked to the kitchen. A plate of scrambled eggs was sitting at my spot on the breakfast bar, and a cup of coffee sat alongside it. Amber turned off the stovetop burner and dished up a plate of eggs for herself.

  “I swear I’m going to gain twenty pounds with you living here.” I plopped down on the barstool and dug in.

  “No you won’t. If you eat my food and lay off the doughnuts, you’ll be fine.”

  “Humph—you might be on to something.”

  I finished breakfast and dressed. Polly and Porky tweeted happily when I opened the blinds and let them enjoy the sunshine. With their food dish full and the water changed, I said goodbye to them, Spaz, and Amber, and left through the garage. Each of us at the office had promised to be at work by seven thirty. We had that bet to take care of, then we’d see how soon Clark could get the warrants. We wanted to act on them as soon as possible.

  Clark was on the phone when I arrived in the bull pen. Billings and Clayton sat at their desks, knee-deep in their morning busywork, and I had the files to look over for our latest guests that had recently checked in upstairs. Jack entered with a box of doughnuts. I groaned and sat on my hands while everyone else dug in.

  Clark shoved half a glazed doughnut in his mouth and began talking. “Anyway, that was Judge Gardino on the phone earlier. He said he would try to expedite the warrants. He could possibly have them as early as nine o’clock.”

  “Good to know.” I signed off on the paperwork that would hold our eighteen-year-old criminals upstairs until their pretrial hearings. I closed their folders. “So do we actually have to wait until noon to go out to the Sims property, boss?”

  “We gave him two days to vacate, and I believe you and Jack told him noon today, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I guess we did.”

  “Then we have to wait. You know he’ll fight leaving if you go early. Sit tight and call Deborah French’s mom. Give her an update.”

  I dialed Lynn French’s house number. A male voice picked up.

  “Bob French speaking.”

  “Hello, Mr. French. This is Sergeant Jade Monroe from the Washburn County Sheriff’s Department. I’m calling to give you and Lynn an update. You haven’t heard from Deborah, have you?”

  “Unfortunately not. I couldn’t stand being out of the loop. I had to get home.”

  “Understood, sir. I wanted to let you and Mrs. French know that we’re expecting warrants this morning to get the name of the person who placed that housekeeping ad. We do have a warrant for the
phone number too, but I think the person’s name will suffice. This isn’t a large community.”

  I heard his sigh through the phone lines. “So you may have something to go on before noon?”

  “It’s a good possibility, sir. We’ll keep you posted.” I hung up right as Clark’s phone rang. We sat on pins and needles and waited as we watched through the wall of glass that separated the bull pen from the lieutenant’s office.

  He gave us the thumbs-up and finished his phone call. Clark stood, slapped his hands together, and came out of his office. “Jade, you and Jack head over to the courthouse and pick up the warrant for the newspaper office. Clayton, get on the horn and call Talk-Time headquarters and tell them we have a warrant for the identity of the owner of that phone number. Billings, head over to the courthouse too and pick up that warrant. Get it back here fast. We’ll likely have to get the local boys to serve it. Where is Talk-Time’s headquarters?”

  “They’re in Indianapolis, boss,” Billings said as he left the bull pen with Jack and me.

  “Want a ride or would you rather walk?” I asked as we headed to the cruiser.

  Billings groaned. “I’ll walk—too many doughnuts, you know.”

  Jack climbed in behind the wheel, and I sat in the passenger seat. The courthouse was right around the corner, but we’d be continuing on to the newspaper office on Sixth Avenue with the warrant in hand.

  Luckily, the warrants were ready and took only a few minutes to pick up. Billings had his too and walked out at the same time we did.

  “Good luck, Adam,” I said as we climbed back into the cruiser. We were downtown in less than five minutes.

  City News had remained a staple on the corner of Sixth Avenue and Maple since the turn of the century. The old brick building had numerous additions on the back, but the facade remained the same as I remembered from childhood, when my dad insisted I have a paper route. I argued that a paper route was a job reserved for boys, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. For two years, I rode my bicycle to every house behind Main Street and tossed a rolled-up newspaper onto their front porch. Doing that helped me become the best female softball pitcher throughout my high school years.