by Thomas Scott
Henderson looked at Rosencrantz. “How does that footage clear Randy Dodge? For all we know, that was him in the van.”
“I didn’t say it cleared him,” Rosencrantz said. “He clearly tampered with evidence, though given the fact that he didn’t know what he had, that probably wouldn’t hold up in court anyway.”
Henderson still didn’t understand. “Yeah, that part I get. What I don’t get is how do we know it wasn’t him in the van?”
“Because you haven’t seen the rest of the video yet,” Rosencrantz said. He brought up another portion of the video. “This is about ten minutes later.” They watched as Dodge stumbled through the lot, walked past Price’s car, did a classic double-take, then grabbed the shopping bag, stuffed the purse inside, then walked away.
Murton brought up the data tracking map on the iPad and compared the timestamps against the route. “Dodge didn’t take her. Look, you can follow his route from here. He went straight to the liquor store. Didn’t even bother taking the sidewalks or streets. He was cutting through backyards to get there as soon as he could.”
Henderson shook his head. “I wonder where Kelly Price is.”
Murton looked at Henderson and said, “Kelly Price is dead, Sheriff.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Virgil went down to the basement of the Sheriff’s Department, entered the file room, then began looking through the archived records from the years in question. The search wasn’t as easy as he thought it might have been. Everything was there, but it was all out of order, mostly, he thought, because of the digitization process. Whoever was in charge of the process didn’t put everything back in its proper place after they had finished.
He spent the rest of the afternoon finding, then gathering everything together. By the time he was finished, he had seven banker’s boxes of case files—each case having its own box—all stacked neatly by the door. He found a two-wheel hand truck in the back corner of the room, stacked the boxes atop each other, and took the elevator back upstairs. Jim, the deputy was busy with a prisoner intake, so Virgil had to wait about ten minutes before he could sign all the necessary forms to remove the evidence from the building. With that done, he thanked Jim, loaded the boxes into his truck, and headed back to the MCU facility where he’d start the process of going through each file, pulling all the relevant information, and giving it to Becky, Wu, and Nicky. They’d enter it into the system, adding it to everything else they had so far. It seemed like a lot of work, especially given the potential for what it had to offer, but Virgil didn’t want to leave any stone unturned. If they could find any connection at all between just one of Mason’s old files, and the current ones they were working on, there might be a thread to pull on. And it had been Virgil’s experience when that happened, things had a way of unraveling…usually for the best.
But not always.
The late afternoon rush hour traffic was bad, and it took Virgil an hour to get back to the MCU. Chip Lawless, one of the MCU’s crime scene techs was wandering around with nothing to do, so he helped Virgil carry the boxes up to his office. When Virgil told him what he was doing, Lawless said, “Looks like a lot of paper.”
Virgil nodded. “It is. But I’m hoping there’ll be something of value in here that can help us find whoever is taking these girls.”
Lawless stopped and looked at his boss. “Is it just me, or is everyone being very careful not to use the term serial killer?”
“It’s not you,” Virgil said. “People hear the words serial killer and everyone starts to panic, the media goes nuts, and when that happens, the politicians start to get involved. We try to avoid it at all costs.”
Lawless was interested. “Why?”
It was a good question, and Virgil said so. “The thing is, Chip, with the type of work you do, you’re pretty isolated. You show up to the crime scene and everything is blocked off, no one gets in your way, and because you’re an expert at what you do, there aren’t too many people who can tell you how to do your job. Outside of that specific realm, it’s a whole other ballgame. If the investigators are being chased around by the media when we’re trying to do our jobs, the whole thing becomes a circus sideshow. They’ll take any scrap of information they can get their hands on, turn it into nothing more than pure speculative sensationalism, and in doing so, they could tip off the killer or killers we’re trying to catch. And the politicians are just as bad. Every single one of them thinks they know how to do my job better than I do because they’ve seen a Bruce Willis movie or watched a few episodes of Law and Order. The real world doesn’t work that way.”
“So whoever you’re after isn’t a serial killer?”
Virgil shook his head. “I didn’t say that. In truth, he is. But the thing to remember is this: There are a lot of serial killers out there who never get caught. Most are travelers, going from place to place, killing for any number of reasons. They’re careful, they don’t take souvenirs—again, that’s mostly a movie thing as well—and they spend their entire lives killing without getting caught. Unless they do something stupid, they often get away with it. And most of the time when they are caught, it’s for a single murder. All the others go unsolved.”
Lawless looked at the boxes of files. “And you think there might be something in these files from long ago that might lead you to whoever is taking these young girls?”
Virgil shrugged. “Never hurts to check.”
“Seems like a long shot.”
“That’s why Jonesy hired me,” Ross said. He’d just walked in the door, and overheard Lawless’s statement. “Long shots are the ones that usually pay off.” Then to Virgil, “Hey, Jonesy.”
Virgil said hello, then asked Ross if he’d finished up with Sandy.
“Yep. Cool dropped her at your place. Nice landing pad, by the way.”
“It should be, based on what it cost. Did you guys get to everyone?”
Ross nodded. “We did. I’ll tell you something, even though you probably already know it, but your wife is pretty damned smart.”
Virgil tipped a finger at him, and said, “I do know that. But tell me what you mean.”
“It’s the way she handled the investigators from the various counties. She had them eating out of the palm of her hand, and they didn’t even know it. She knew exactly what questions to ask, and not only that, she knew what questions to stay away from. She also got every single one of them to agree to notify the parents of their child’s whereabouts, with the exception of two of the girls, so the state doesn’t have to take on that burden.”
“Why’d she leave two of the girls out?”
Ross laughed in a sad sort of way. “Because it only took about five minutes to know that if those particular girls’ whereabouts were made known to their parents, the girls would be brought right back to an abusive situation. The one in Mexico…the minor? She was one of them.”
Lawless took the opportunity to excuse himself. “If there’s nothing else, Jonesy?”
“No, that’s it. Thanks for the help, Chip.”
“You bet,” Lawless said, then left the room.
Virgil turned back to Ross. “I’m surprised Sandy let the Mexico girl go.”
“You wouldn’t be if you heard what the investigators told us about her parents.”
“That bad?”
“Yeah. But like I said, Sandy got the investigator to sign off on the fact that they are now aware of the girl’s location, and if there’s any pushback from the parents the county will take the heat, not the state.”
Virgil wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about that, so he didn’t say anything. Ross filled the vacuum with this: “So, I guess I’ll see you in a few hours, huh?”
Virgil tipped his head to the side. A question.
“Sarah is already at your place. Sandy invited me over for dinner.”
Virgil said, “Ah.” Then, “Hell, you should have just stayed. You could have wet a line and entertained the fish for a while.”
“I thought a
bout it, but my car was at the airport, plus, I didn’t know what anyone else was doing, so I thought I’d better check in.”
“I appreciate it, Ross. But go ahead and take off. It looks like everyone else has anyway. I’m not going to dig into these files until tomorrow. If I start now, I won’t be able to stop. So, I’ll see you there.”
Ross sort of snickered.
“What?” Virgil said.
“It won’t be just me you’ll see.”
Virgil shook his head. “She did it again, didn’t she?”
“What can I tell you, Jonesy? The woman told me she likes a full house. In addition to me and Sarah, Murt and Becky will be there, along with Robert, Delroy and Huma. I’m pretty sure she said Rosie and Carla were going to stop by, along with Nicky and Wu.”
Virgil scratched at the back of his head. “Maybe I will stay here and work these files. There probably won’t be any place for me to sit.”
“Ah, put your party hat on and have some fun. Get away from all this business for one night. Besides, as we were landing, I saw a tent rental van in your backyard. Sandy called ahead and got a tent, tables and chairs…the works.”
“Why is it I’m the last to know about all this?”
Ross smiled and said, “That, Boss, is a question you’ll have to ask yourself. Let me know the answer if you ever figure it out.” Then, as he was walking out the door: “Forget the files and go with the flow. It’s not like whoever is snatching these girls is going to take another one tonight.”
By the time Virgil got home, everyone was already there...or so he thought. The tent was up, music was playing, Murton, Rosencrantz, and Ross were fishing with Jonas and Wyatt, while Huma, Sarah, and Shelby County’s likely next sheriff, Carla Martin, were all fussing over Liv and Aayla. Robert was working the grill, and Delroy, along with Nicky and Wu were handing out drinks. Sandy was working the room—or in this case—the lawn, making sure everyone had what they needed.
Virgil walked over, grabbed his wife from behind, picked her up, and spun her in a circle. She giggled like a little girl, and when he put her down, she said, “I hope you don’t mind. We need a little more fun in our lives.”
“You’re beautiful,” Virgil said. “And no, I don’t mind at all. Especially with the way you look right now. I am wondering why I’m always the last to hear about all this though.”
Sandy was about to answer when they heard the beat of the state helicopter’s rotor blades. Cool came in over the top of the house, turned into the wind, and gently set the craft down on the landing pad. Virgil glanced over at the pond and saw Murton had his arm on Jonas’s shoulder, and Ross had Wyatt in his lap. Once Cool had the engine shut down and the tail rotor had stopped, the men let the boys go, and they ran toward the helicopter, shouting, “Uncle Mac’s here!”
Cool hopped out and opened the door for his passengers. The governor climbed out, gave the boys a quick hug, then turned back to the chopper, reached inside, took Nichole’s hand, and helped her down. Virgil and Sandy walked over and said hello.
The governor smiled, then said, “We heard something about a small gathering?”
Sandy smiled right back, looked Nichole in the eye, and said, “An entrance, huh?”
Nichole bit into the corner of her lower lip, glanced at Mac, then turned back to Sandy and said, “Be careful what you wish for.”
Jodie Carter, a senior at French Lick high school was going to do a little partying herself. She’d worked the whole thing out with her best friend, Emma Brady. Both girls worked evenings at the Dollar General store in French Lick, and while Emma wasn’t currently seeing anyone, Jodie had a boyfriend she wanted to spend the night with. It was one thing to go park in the woods and do it in the back seat. It was a whole other thing to actually have a comfortable bed, a shower, and wake up in the morning with your boyfriend right next to you. What could be better?
The problem? Her parents.
But as a bright, if not somewhat sneaky young woman, with a little forethought, she got the whole thing worked out.
Their plan went like this: Jodie would tell her parents that she was going to spend the night with Emma, as they’d done all through high school. Her parents had rarely told her no, and ever since she’d been a senior, they had never refused. Their little girl was growing up. Emma, of course, would cover for Jodie by simply not saying anything to her parents. She’d go home after work, and hang out by herself. Maybe binge a little Netflix.
Jodie’s boyfriend, Bobby Thompson—whose parents were out of town—had his place to himself. Bobby was under strict orders to not have any parties, but nothing was ever said about having his girlfriend over. In fact, the more Bobby thought about it, his dad had a mischievous look on his face before they left…almost as if he knew what would be going on. He’d also left a pack of condoms in plain sight on top of the master bedroom dresser.
Message delivered.
Since Jodie didn’t get off work until nine that evening, and wouldn’t be arriving for a few hours at best, Bobby had some time to kill. His homework was done, he was tired of his video games, the house was empty, and in short, he had nothing to do until Jodie showed up. He was, in a word, bored.
That’s when he decided to sneak a couple of brewskis from the garage refrigerator. He knew his dad didn’t keep that close of an eye on how many beers were out there. The night was warm, so he drank a few beers, then decided he’d top off the bottles of beer with a few shots of the good stuff. When he opened the cabinet in his dad’s office, he saw it was stocked like the local liquor store. There were bottles of vodka, whiskey, tequila, rum, gin, and every type of mixer anyone could ever ask for. Feeling good after the beers, Bobby got on the internet and looked up how to make a drink he’d heard of, but had never tried…a Long Island Iced Tea. One of his buddies had told him it tasted great and really kicked the party into high gear. So Bobby thought, why not?
He mixed all the ingredients together, topped it off with a splash of Pepsi—the recipe called for Coke—but Bobby said fuck it…a cola was a cola, and when he took a sip he couldn’t believe how good it was. He could barely taste the liquor. One thing led to another, and with no food in his stomach, the Long Islands eventually hit him like a sledgehammer. He was a little over halfway through his third when the room began to spin. He shook it off, finished the drink, found his mom’s stash of Oxy she’d kept after a root canal procedure a few months ago, and popped two of those. While he was waiting for the pills to kick in, he made one more drink, then sat down and tuned into Sports Center on ESPN. Half an hour later, he took another pill, then soon after, he passed out on the sofa. It was almost at the exact same time Don Whittle turned his van into the Dollar General lot and parked next to Jodie’s car.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ross and Rosencrantz were sitting under the tent at Virgil’s. Dinner was over, they had their feet propped up on the table, and they were watching Delroy and Huma dance in the grass. Larry the Dog was sniffing around under the tables searching for leftover scraps. Rosencrantz gave the golden retriever a scratch on top of his head, then looked at his partner and said, “Hey, guess who I met today?”
“Who?”
“Sam Whittle. He’s a famous author.”
“I know who Whittle is,” Ross said. “I’ve read all his novels. Though I have to admit, I’m a little surprised that you know who he is.”
“Why would you think that?” Rosencrantz said.
“Because I didn’t think you knew all your letters yet.”
Rosencrantz bobbed his head. “Good one. Anyway, he seemed like a regular guy.”
“As opposed to what? An irregular guy?”
Rosencrantz shrugged. “Ah, you know how it is with famous people. Sometimes they can be real jerks.”
“You know who’s the most famous guy I’ve ever met?” Ross said.
“Who?”
Ross pointed at the governor with his chin and said, “That guy standing right over there, doing his level best
not to put his hand on Nichole’s ass.”
Rosencrantz laughed. “He’s failing miserably. I’ve seen him do it three times in the last hour.”
Carla snuck up behind Rosencrantz and said, “The only way you can see someone put their hand on someone else’s ass is if you’re looking at her ass, which you’d better not be.”
Rosencrantz gave his girl a lopsided dopey grin. “Want to dance?”
Martin seemed to consider the question for a moment. “Are you going to grab my ass?”
“Of course,” Rosencrantz said.
“Then let’s go. I love this song.”
Sarah sat down next to Ross, and a few minutes later, Virgil and Sandy walked into the tent, along with Murton and Becky. Ross looked at Virgil, and said, “What is it?”
“What’s what?” Virgil said.
“You’ve got a peculiar look on your face.”
“Do I?” Virgil said.
Murton looked at his brother and said, “Yeah, you sort of do. What’s on your mind?”
Virgil looked away from everyone for a few seconds, then said, “I was thinking that last time we had a party like this, one of us didn’t make it back.”
Sandy took her husband’s hand. “I think we’ll all miss Ed for the rest of our lives, Virgil. Pam too. But even as awful as that day turned out, look what it’s brought us. Wyatt has a brother he never would have had if things turned out differently. It’s just like you and Murton.”
Virgil nodded. “I guess so. Still, it’s hard. Anyway, that’s what I was thinking about…the party, and how Ed died to save Murt and Becky and me.”
Murton clapped his brother on the back. “Well, the good news is this, Jones-man. We’re all here, no one seems to be going anywhere, so there is no one to worry about.”
Except Murton didn’t know about Jodie Carter, and what she was experiencing at that very moment.
