by C. M. Sutter
Jack stood. “I’ll get the DNA swab kits from the cabinet downstairs. We could probably put together makeshift questionnaires and print them off. We actually have no idea how many people will show up now that we had to add missing women after 1996. What’s the total between 1987 and the current day?”
I checked the numbers in the folder. “As of the day Deborah went missing, our total since 1987 is fifty-one. Of course, that doesn’t mean they all went missing under suspicious circumstances. Some women left on vacation and never returned, others were runaways, and then separations or divorces were thrown in the mix, where the woman didn’t want to be found.”
Jack shrugged. “Yeah, abusive boyfriends or husbands, I guess.”
“Uh-huh. Okay, I’ll put something together, and you get the test kits. After I print everything off and set up the conference room, let’s go through the statewide missing persons database for the last month. Somebody has to know who our Jane Doe is. After lunch we can head out to the farm. I’ll have Jan call us if anyone sets up an appointment to give their DNA.”
We each got a fresh cup of coffee and sat at our desks. All of the parameters fitting Jane Doe’s description were checked off, and the statewide search began. Sending sheets to the police and sheriff’s departments in each county might have gone faster, but we didn’t have a useable photograph of Jane Doe to provide them. According to Lena, the poor girl’s face was crushed.
“I’m leaning toward the counties surrounding Washburn County,” Jack said. “Whatever ruse Max used to get a woman to his house wouldn’t have worked unless the woman lived within a half hour of the farm.”
“You could be right.” I grabbed my desk phone and dialed City News.
“What are you thinking?” Jack asked.
“This may speed things up. The housekeeping ad may have run a few times. That could be Max’s ruse. It will rule out him picking up someone walking along the road or snatching them from a parking lot like Robert Lynch did to Deidra Nelson last fall.” That case of a killer from last year was still fresh in my mind.
“Yeah, don’t forget Jeremy and Matt and their human trafficking enterprise too.” Jack pressed his temples. “That’s exactly what they did all over Washburn and Milwaukee County.”
I pressed my hand to the air for Jack to hold that thought. City News was picking up.
“City News, how may I direct your call?”
I set the receiver down and clicked over to speakerphone. “Hello, this is Sergeant Monroe from the sheriff’s department.”
“Yes, of course, I remember you.”
I smiled at Jack.
“That’s nice. I’m wondering if you’d be kind enough to check how many times Max Sims ran his ‘Housekeeper Wanted’ ad.”
“But—”
“But, the warrant is still in effect. Do I need to come down there in person?”
“No, ma’am. One moment please.”
She clicked over to elevator music.
Jack chuckled. “You’re a hardass, Jade.”
“It gets the job done, doesn’t it?” I pulled a five-dollar bill out of my wallet while I waited and passed it across the desk to Jack. “Will you be a sweetheart and get me a chocolate bar? Grab whatever you want too.”
“Yep, no problem.” Jack pushed back his chair and went down the hall to the lunchroom.
“Are you still there, Sergeant?”
“I sure am. What have you got?”
“It looks like Mr. Sims ran that ad four times, each a week apart, beginning the last week of March.”
“Okay, thanks a lot. Goodbye.”
“What did you find out?” Jack asked as he came around the corner and handed me the chocolate bar and a fistful of change. He sat at his desk and tore open a bag of chips.
“I agree with your theory. Max has run that ad four times. Coincidentally, he started them the last week of March. That’s about the time when the ground is thawed enough to dig a hole. Let’s start close and expand out.”
“You take Waukesha County, and I’ll take Ozaukee,” Jack said as he tapped his computer keys and changed the locations for the search.
I did the same and munched on my candy bar as I continued through the list of missing women.
I checked the time on the lower right corner of my computer. We were closing in on ten thirty. I’d called Lena forty-five minutes ago and told her to expect Mr. and Mrs. French. They called as they were leaving their house. I’m sure by now they had come, made the devastating identification of Deborah, and had left to go home and mourn. I leaned back in my chair and stretched.
“Anything look promising?”
Jack took a break and rubbed his eyes. “I think I’m getting double vision. I’ve saved a few listings that we can go over closer when we finish this. I have sixteen left to go. How about you?”
“I’ve saved three. Some descriptions sound right until I see the age. I have six left. Let’s finish these and compare our findings.” The next image on the screen made me sit up and take notice. I leaned in closer, my face resting in my open hands. “I might have something here, Jack.”
“Really?” Jack pushed back his roller chair, stood, and walked around his desk. He took a seat in my guest chair.
I pointed at the listing on the screen. “That one, right there. Compare it to Lena’s notes. It’s dead nuts on. Says she disappeared from Sussex ten days ago. That distance and time frame fits the parameters perfectly.”
“I agree. Print it out. Let’s take it downstairs and show it to Lena.”
I hit the print icon on my computer, and we heard the printer come to life. Two pages slid out, one with the young woman’s picture and the other, her statistics.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
I was anxious to call Clark out in the field, but I wanted to be sure first. Jack and I peeked into the autopsy room—nobody was there. We went to the next room, the coroner’s office, and I knocked. Lena called out for us to come in.
“Hi, guys, what’s up?” She set down the recorder she had been talking into and gave us her full attention.
I handed her the pieces of paper. “What do you think the chances are of this woman being our Jane Doe?”
She motioned for us to take a seat as she read over the statistics and studied the face in the photograph.
“I need to check on something. I’ll be right back.” Lena rose and exited the office.
I turned and looked at Jason. “What is she doing?”
“May I?”
I handed Jason the sheets of paper. “Yep—she’s checking for identifying features. It says there’s a small beauty mark behind this woman’s left knee. That’s most likely what Lena’s doing—checking.”
We waited. I drummed my fingers on Lena’s desk, and Jack talked to Jason about the basketball playoffs. The door finally opened, and Lena entered.
“It’s her.”
I stood. “Seriously—it really is?”
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure. There’s always a tiny smidge for error. I’m thinking it’s a safe bet to contact her parents. At this point, I’d only ask for a DNA sample from each parent. Once it’s a confirmed match, you can give them the definitive news.”
“Thanks, Lena. The death of a loved one is never good news, but at least the family can move forward and give their daughter a proper funeral.” I glanced at the papers again. “Her name was Amy Patterson, and she was only twenty-two. We’ve got to find Max Sims and bring him to justice.”
Chapter 24
The field was full of people when Jack and I arrived at the Sims farm. Yellow police tape was secured across the driveway near the house. An officer directed law enforcement and forensic experts around the taped-off area. People that didn’t belong at the site weren’t allowed through.
We were stopped where the tape crossed the driveway. Jack and I showed our badges and were motioned to pass through at the opening. We parked fifty feet beyond the tape in a grassy area behind the milk house and I caug
ht a glimpse of Clark as we exited the cruiser. He, the mayor, and Mr. Chesak stood on the porch, arguing with each other. I elbowed Jack and jerked my chin toward the men. Clark saw me and gave me a scowl.
A processing area comprised of five large canopied tents had been erected just south of the field between the barn and the woods. Two portable toilets stood to the left of them, and at the far right another tent looked to be the food and beverage area. They had come well prepared. A gas generator provided power for the large coffee urn, stainless steel warming bins for food, and the computers and phone-charging stations.
Jack and I passed the makeshift all-inclusive tent city on our way to the field. “Can you believe this? These guys are no joke.”
Clayton saw us and waved us over. “Hey, guys, quite the setup, right?”
Jack nodded. “I’d say. What have they found so far?”
“The bulldozer started early this morning, scraping off layers of dirt with the blade. On the third round, bones started showing up. That’s when the crew began. They have sifters, shovels, rakes, hoes, you name it. They photograph and catalog their finds right at the site, then take the bones over to the lab they have set up that does radiocarbon dating.” Clayton pointed at the third tent. “They do all their magic right in there. It’s pretty sophisticated stuff.”
“Sounds like it. Did Dr. White get back to you guys on the age of those bones we gave him last night?”
Dan crossed the field and joined in on our conversation. “He told me this morning they have been buried more than twenty years but less than forty.”
“That’s good enough for me. We can add all of these victims to Darryl Sims’s murder count. Unfortunately, with Darryl serving a life sentence with no chance at parole, it’s like these women, whoever they were, didn’t count for anything. We have no leverage whatsoever over the man to find out the names and how many women he actually killed.”
“Unless—”
I interrupted Billings. “Unless what?”
“Unless we get creative and think of a way to use Max as leverage.”
My excitement faded quickly. “Yeah, that’s another problem all its own. We’d have to find him first.”
“Maybe not. Cops have the right to get ‘very creative’ in order to gather information.”
Jack chuckled. “Code for lying, but it might work. We’ll have to put our heads together and think of something that could actually get Darryl to start talking.”
I craned my neck and shielded my eyes. The sun, straight above, shadowed the porch area. “What’s the deal with Clark and the guys? They know this is a crime scene, so why are they busting his chops?”
“Schedules and deadlines. The Swedish company is on the edge of pulling out,” Clayton said.
“But they already own the land.”
He shrugged. “They haven’t put any work into it yet. They can put it up for sale and look for a spot somewhere else.”
“Yeah, and I bet they’re threatening to build the store in another county. That’s the only pressure they can put on the mayor, which somehow becomes Clark’s problem.”
Billings nodded. “True, but think of all the lost revenue that would mean for Washburn County. The lieutenant is under the gun to get this nightmare wrapped up.”
The thought of Max placing four ads weighed heavily on my mind. I had no idea if there were two more women somewhere in the woods or in the field with the others. The best-case scenario would be if nobody had responded to the first two ads at all.
Clark finally stepped off the porch and headed our way. I saw him grumbling and shaking his head.
I whispered to the rest of the group, “He doesn’t look happy. Maybe telling him we have an ID on Jane Doe will help.”
“Damn city officials and corporate red tape. They’re grinding on me every chance they can.” Clark planted his feet next to the rest of us and huffed his irritation, then jammed his fists into his jacket pockets defiantly.
“We found out who Jane Doe is, boss. That’s something positive,” I said.
He perked up. “Yeah? Let’s hear it.”
“Her name is Amy Patterson. She was twenty-two years old and from Sussex. Lena suggested we collect DNA samples from the parents as a confirmation before we tell them definitively that it’s her.”
Clark nodded. “Yeah, go ahead and get that done. There really isn’t anything here for you guys to do.” He jerked his chin toward the field. “Those people are more than capable of handling this. As a matter of fact, we can all go back to the station and check in with Dr. White over the phone. He said they’d have the field cleared within two days.”
“Boss?”
Clark raised his eyebrow at me. “Why does that always mean something bad is going to come out of your mouth?”
“Because that’s usually the case.”
“Go ahead. What is it?”
I turned to Jack. “It’s your turn to deliver the bad news.”
“Thanks, partner. We checked at City News, and apparently Max ran four ads within four weeks. The dogs found two women. It seems like the ruse Max used to get women out here was the ad for housekeeping. There could possibly be two more women buried in the woods.”
Clark kicked a few rocks near his foot. “Then we have to get the dogs back out here. Clayton, go ask Dr. White if they found anything that appears more recent than the rest. If it’s only been four weeks, the remains would be more than just bones.”
“Got it, boss.” Clayton jogged off to the middle of the field where Dr. White stood.
“All right, you two head to Amy Patterson’s house. Anything on the DNA event?”
“Haven’t heard from Jan. She said she’d call when someone set up an appointment.”
Jack and I walked back to the cruiser and left. Both sides of the driveway and most of the grassy area held parked vehicles.
“You want to drive?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, right. I’ll let you figure out how to maneuver out of this parking lot.”
After a bit of backing up and going forward, Jack managed to get to the driveway and exit onto Highway G. We headed south toward Sussex. I pulled the papers out of the door pocket and read the directions aloud.
“Take 45 south to Countyline Road, then turn west. Go west a mile to Townline Road and turn left. Take that to Plainview, then turn right. Their house is about a half mile in on Plainview. I’ll give you the details once we’re closer.”
“You called the folks earlier, right?”
“Yeah. Only the mom was home, but she said she’d call her husband and have him leave work early. Her name is Nancy, and the husband is Mark. They’re expecting us.”
Chapter 25
Max passed the Green River Falls-population 3,618 sign at three thirty. He drove through the touristy downtown area to the post office on Fillmore Street. He parked the van and took the sidewalk to the twelve steps that led to the glass-doored entrance of the nondescript brick building. Inside, there were three counters to the right through another glass door, and to the left were the shipping supplies as well as the post office boxes.
He opened the door to the right and took his spot behind a young woman already at the first counter.
“Next in line,” the clerk said.
Max approached and stood at the second counter.
The clerk looked him up and down then smiled. “Ever play basketball?”
“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been asked that, but no, I’ve never played basketball.”
“Sorry. What can I help you with?”
“I need a small post office box.”
“Sure, no problem.” She pointed at the counter at Max’s back where all of the forms were stacked side by side. “There are pens in the cup. Just fill out the form for renting a box then bring it back to me when you’re done. You’ll need your ID.”
Max turned and took four steps back. He stood against the counter and filled out the single-page form. He was finished minutes later.
“Sir, over here.” The same clerk called him to her counter. She took the form and looked it over. “Long way from home.”
“Just staying with a friend for a bit.”
“Would you like to pay monthly, semi-annually, or yearly? You get a two-dollar discount for yearly.”
Max sighed a deep breath. “Let’s make it monthly. I’d hate to wear out my welcome.”
She chuckled. “I’ll need to see your ID.”
Max pulled the wallet out of his back pocket and flipped it open. His driver’s license was behind the plastic sleeve.
“Can you take it out, sir?”
He removed it from the wallet and slid it across the counter to her.
“Okay, that’s twelve dollars for the month.”
Max handed her fifteen. She gave him his change, the receipt, and the keys for box number fourteen.
“Have a nice day, sir.”
Max walked out without looking back. He reached the cabin ten minutes later and parked the vehicle as deep in the woods as he could. The day before, Max had purchased a padlock for the door, along with a sheet of plywood and a box of nails—he already had the hammer. Now that the plywood was firmly nailed over the loose, rotten boards, the porch was safe to cross. Max stuck the key in the padlock and turned it. He lifted the padlock off the latch and gave the door a shove. It opened grudgingly. The shutters were kept closed.
Finding a decent spot to sit on the sofa proved difficult. The damage from mice was extensive. Max sat there, anyway, with a can of beer in his hand and waited for the call from Darryl. He stared at the woman splayed out on the floor. Her arms and legs were stretched to her sides, each limb tied to a heavy object so she couldn’t get away. The ball gag, his favorite device for silencing cries, was jammed firmly in her mouth, and dried blood matted her hair. Max set the beer can on the floor and stood. He walked over to the woman and noticed the area beneath her was wet.
“Pissed yourself? Guess I was gone a long time.” He tapped his forehead. “I bet you have a headache. You were pretty wasted last night. Grabbing you was as easy as pie.” He picked up the purse that was knocked over a few feet away and sat back down. “Feels heavy. Why do women keep so much shit in their purses?”
