by Terry Odell
Or had someone told the mayor what had gone down? Did he have people monitoring scanners and reporting to him? Gordon’s stomach turned over. Did he have someone inside his force feeding the mayor information? Connie? No way.
Irv? He had firsthand knowledge of everything when he was on duty. One of the duty officers? The officers left their night reports with the duty officer, who made copies for Laurie and left them on her desk, where she turned them over to him each morning.
Who’d been duty officer that night? Gordon refused to consider the possibility that he would be sending copies to the mayor. But these reports weren’t kept under lock and key. Anyone with access to the station could have seen them. Hell, he didn’t know exactly what the mayor had. Waving a piece of paper wasn’t the same as flaunting copies of reports. A quick phone call or email could have passed the pertinent information on.
Gordon refused to confront the mayor with questions. He’d ferret things out himself. Meeting the mayor’s gaze, Gordon said, “With all due respect, Sir, I have one of my best officers looking into these incidents. It doesn’t seem to be anything more harmful than some joy-riding kids, but I can assure you, when we find out who’s responsible, we will take the appropriate actions.”
Gordon tried not to choke when he realized he’d given a speech worthy of the mayor. Lots of words, no substance.
“See to it that you do,” the mayor said. He tilted his wrist and shoved up a cuff, revealing a very slim gold watch.
Gordon gripped the arms of the chair in a move to rise, but before he could, the mayor pulled several more sheets of paper from the file folder. The mayor’s smile was as insincere as any Gordon had ever seen.
The mayor settled into his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him. “As long as you’re here, let’s go over these spreadsheets. I have a few suggestions for you.” The mayor shoved one sheet across the table, keeping the other. “Here’s a copy.”
Time stopped, although Gordon was aware of the ticking of a grandfather clock across the room, and the drumming in his ears. The mayor droned on. Gordon tuned him out, nodding and agreeing at occasional intervals, hoping they were appropriately timed. Sounds of tires on asphalt carried in on a stiff breeze billowed the curtains at the open window. The phone in the outer office rang from time to time. At some point, sirens whooped in the distance. The grandfather clock chimed two. Then, almost mid-sentence, the mayor stood and offered his hand. “Thanks again for coming. I’m sure you’ll find my suggestions will streamline your budget.”
And he was dismissed. Gordon accepted the mayor’s hand, still confused about the lack of mention of the bones. Or did the mayor understand he had no jurisdiction, influence, or any kind of control over the Sheriff’s Department, unlike the Mapleton Police Department? No matter. Gordon was out of here. He folded the mayor’s spreadsheet and promised to study it in more depth. Shoving it into his coat pocket, he left the office feeling as if he’d finished a marathon.
A pastry pick-me-up at Daily Bread? Tempting as it was, he’d already lost an hour, not counting the time he’d spent at the hospital. Too bad Angie’s feelings didn’t carry over into sensing his blood sugar drops. Wouldn’t it be nice to have her deliver a cinnamon roll at his slightest craving. He was tempted to call and order a sandwich. No. He had work to do, and Angie did, too. Tonight, maybe.
He strolled along the path between City Hall and the police station, each step washing away a bit more of the mayor-induced fatigue. The short walk in the stiff breeze revived him, and he took the stairs up to the station two at a time.
He stopped at the break room for coffee and a sugar hit from the vending machine before heading for his office. Munching on a peanut butter cup, he passed by Laurie’s desk. She had the box of photos on the floor beside her desk, and stacks of envelopes covered the desktop.
“Progress?” he asked.
She gave him a quizzical look. “Almost done, Chief. But I thought you’d be at the fire.”
Gordon almost choked on the cloying peanut butter. “Fire?”
“I texted you,” she said. “You didn’t get it?”
Gordon pulled out his phone. “I thought I’d set it to vibrate. I guess I shut down all notifications.” Vanity be damned. He was definitely going to have to get some readers. “Tell me about the fire. Where is it? Who’s on scene? Anyone hurt?”
Laurie lifted her brows and tapped her chest. “Me. Admin.” She gestured toward the hallway. “Connie. Dispatch.” She pointed at him. “You. Stressed.”
Gordon almost laughed. “Right.” He swallowed the second piece of candy and washed it down with too-hot coffee as he hurried to Dispatch, his mind racing. The sirens he’d heard at the mayor’s office. How bad was it? “Connie. Talk to me.”
“Fire in the woods near Aspen Lake. Two engines dispatched, paramedics, plus two of our units—McDermott and Titchener. No containment yet. No homes under immediate threat, but the winds are picking up, and they’ve ordered evacuation for homes on the east side of the lake.”
“Support if we need it?” Gordon asked. Mapleton, as well as most of the neighboring towns, relied on volunteer firefighters.
“All of Mapleton’s been called out to the firehouse. Other departments are on standby.”
Despite the recent rain, the summer had been unusually dry, which meant wildfires would spread—well, like wildfire.
Once Gordon felt confident that Connie, as always, had done everything right, the location registered. East side of Aspen Lake. The woods. The bones.
“How did it start?” he asked. Because there hadn’t been any lightning, and the area was primarily residential, so campfires were unlikely. Smoldering cigarette butts, either from hikers or someone driving by and tossing one out the window would be enough.
“Too early to tell,” Connie said. “Priority one is getting it out.”
“Carry on.” Gordon hurried back to his office, where Colfax had the phone’s handset tucked between chin and shoulder while he clicked the mouse and tapped the keyboard.
Colfax hung up, clicked a few keys and lifted his gaze. “Guess you heard about the excitement.”
“What the hell happened? This can’t be a coincidence.” Gordon suddenly remembered the county forensics teams working the bone site. “Your men? Are they all right?”
“One’s being treated for smoke inhalation, another one for minor burns. Otherwise, they’re fine. They did what they could, but unfortunately, they don’t carry fire extinguishers in their forensics field kits.”
“Was the point of origin the bone site?” Although with six forensic analysts right there, an arsonist sneaking in didn’t seem possible. Unless one—or more—of the analysts started it. Which also didn’t seem possible. If they wanted to sabotage the site, all they’d have to do would be move the bones and falsify their findings.
“No, by the time they saw it approaching, it was too far gone. Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve designated your station as Incident Command. County’s sending up a mobile unit, and you’ve already got a first class dispatcher.”
“Whatever you need.” He wished he could see for himself, but he had work to do. Sometimes it sucked being the chief.
“The forensics team said it looked like the fire was coming from the direction of Aspen Lake,” Colfax said.
Aspen Lake. Votes for the wayward cigarette. Kids hung there. Swimming, running—or indulging in a little touchy-feely. Smoking and drinking were common enough among the high school set. Wildfires in Colorado were a given during the summer. But having one in Mapleton right now was too damn convenient.
Gordon sank into his visitor’s chair. “This is starting to suck.” He tried to visualize the topography, got up and went for his map to make sure. He put a finger on Aspen Lake, then dragged it along the map. “Fires don’t follow roads. It’s not even a mile between Aspen Lake and the bone site.”
“And tons of dry timber after near-drought conditions for the past two years. Could get messy.” C
olfax leaned back and adjusted the volume on the radio.
Gordon shrugged out of his sport coat and stared at the white board. He picked up a marker and wrote FIRE in bold caps. Below that, he wrote ARSON? He stepped back. “Motives?”
“Destroy the bone site,” Colfax said, and Gordon wrote it on the board. He also added FIREBUG although neither man thought that one was near the top of the list.
“Isn’t it risky to set a fire some distance away from what you want to destroy?” Gordon asked.
“Agreed, but it conceals the obvious motive. And if they know how fires spread, that might lessen the risk.”
Gordon paced the small space, thinking out loud. “If the bones were the target, how could they be sure the fire would reach the site—and since the bones were in an excavated area, there’s less of a chance they’d catch. And even if they did, burning them wouldn’t destroy them.”
“Right,” Colfax said. “So what other reason could there be for setting the fire? What was the result?”
Gordon mulled it over. “The forensics team left.”
“Leaving the site unattended,” Colfax said.
“But they’re risking their lives going into a fire scene.”
“Maybe they didn’t think the fire would spread that quickly. Or maybe they’re experienced in dealing with fire.”
Gordon shook his head. “You mean firefighters set it? That’s nuts.”
“Just laying out possibilities.”
“If everything’s related, we should be looking for a common denominator.” Gordon flipped the board over and drew three columns on the back side. He wrote BONES above one, KRETZERS on another and DOC EVANS on the third. Under the Kretzer column, he wrote Roger, Suben & Clark. “Did your guy get anything from his chat with Roger Ignatius?”
Colfax consulted a sheet of paper. “Not a whole lot. Spent a lot of time extolling the success of the corporation. How they all made fortunes in real estate.”
“What did he say about the land they sold to the Kretzers? Who did it belong to before they bought it?” Gordon asked.
“Land developer, but he doesn’t remember the name. In the beginning, that was Roger and company’s basic plan of action. Buy big parcels of land, then divide them into smaller parcels and turn them over. Kind of like house flipping, but without the houses. Doesn’t make sense that they’d have sold a plot of land if they’d buried bodies there. Asel said the bones had been there thirty to forty years, right?”
“When he saw the first bone, yes,” Gordon said. “But I’m wondering how important it is to know who owned the land at the time. Anyone could have buried the bones. It’s not like anyone was living there. It looked liked vacant woodland then, and it still does.”
“You think our guy was driving by with a body, saw the woods, and thought it might be a good place to get rid of the evidence?” Colfax said.
Gordon flipped the marker in his hand. “Right now that’s as good a hypothesis as any. Have we expanded our missing persons search? If some guy did drive by, he could have come from anywhere.”
“I’ll go out as far as Texas. Unless the body was in a refrigerated truck, I don’t think anyone would be driving around much longer than that, even in winter.”
Colfax’s cell trilled. He looked at the display, lifted his eyebrows. “Colfax.” The semblance of a smile spread across his face.
“Good news?” Gordon asked after Colfax hung up.
“News is as far as I’ll go. Forensics found some prints on the car that don’t belong to the doctor. They’re running them through AFIS now.”
“I take it these prints weren’t in usual places,” Gordon said.
Colfax smirked. “I love the way you’re quick on the uptake. The prints were in the steering column assembly. Only other possibility would be that the doctor took the car to the shop and the mechanic was a total incompetent.”
“No way. Lou’s top notch, and Doc wouldn’t have taken his car anywhere else.”
“Ask the doctor if he had it in for service so we can cross off that possibility.”
“Doc’s been in surgery, so I don’t think he’s going to be able to answer, but I’ll check with Lou at the garage.” Gordon knew Lou wouldn’t have sabotaged Doc’s car—or any car. To him, they were living beings, things to be worshipped. But Colfax was right. They had to cross all the Ts and dot all the Is.
“See if you can get his prints for elimination,” Colfax added.
Gordon’s internal line rang. He reached over the desk to pick it up. “Yes, Laurie?”
“Megan Wyatt wants to see you.”
Chapter 31
Gordon’s first thought shot to Rose. His next was that the white board wasn’t something Megan needed to see. He intercepted her in the hallway. Distress was etched across her face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Rose and Sam’s house. There’s a fire. I was in the diner with Angie. I heard sirens, but I didn’t know.” She sniffed back tears. “And now, I can’t get back, and they’ll lose everything—”
“Calm down.” He took her hands. “Look at me. Do you know if their house is actually burning? The firefighters are going to issue evacuation notices to keep people safe. They’ll block off neighborhoods if they think there’s a threat. They want to make sure that if the fire does come that way, there won’t be anyone in danger, and they’ll have room to work.”
Megan wiped her eyes. “They wouldn’t let me get close. I saw all the smoke. And flames.” Her despair returned. “Can you check? I need to get Rose and Sam’s stuff. All their valuables, their important papers, their photo albums.”
“Wait here.” The last thing Gordon wanted was for Megan to hear Rose and Sam’s house had burned down from Connie’s cool, collected dispatch fashion. “Help yourself to coffee or tea.”
Megan didn’t budge. Gordon left her and sought out Connie. She sat at her usual position, and the second desk was occupied by a firefighter. Both were clicking at computer keyboards, talking into headsets and studying monitors. Gordon waited for a lull—or at least a breather—between calls. The firefighter looked his way.
“Quick question. Evacuations and engaged homes.” Gordon gave them the Kretzers’ address. “Where do they stand?”
The firefighter rolled his chair away from the desk to where a large map was taped to the wall. “What was that address?”
Gordon repeated it, and stepped toward the map. He pinpointed the Kretzers’ street, which was inside a green blob which was next to a smaller red blob, both of which were inside a larger orange blob. Gordon stabbed at the green blob. “Here.”
“That’s a mandatory evacuation zone.” The firefighter pulled a pen from behind his ear and used it as a pointer. “Orange is active fire. Red is hot spots. This black line is containment.”
Gordon saw a short black squiggle at the edge of Aspen Lake. “I’ve got a woman outside who wants to know if her home is on fire. What do I tell her?”
“If it’s in the green zone, it’s not burning. We need her to stay out of there so we can keep it that way. We’ve got crews on the wildfire and crews on the residential areas. Trouble is, there are a lot of residences tucked into the woodlands, and if those woods catch, it’s going to be tough to save the structures.” He gave Gordon an even stare. “Safety is our first priority. Our guys know what they’re doing, but they’re not going to take unnecessary risks to save a building. On the other hand, unnecessary is a relative term. They regard every house as their own. It becomes personal.”
“I have no doubts. I’ll try to offer what reassurance I can.” Gordon shook the man’s hand. “Thanks for your good work.” He went to find Megan.
She was pacing the break room, alternating between running her hands through her hair and folding her arms across her chest. “What?” She rushed up to him.
“Good news. The house isn’t in a burn area. Not so good news. They’re not going to let you go in there.”
“What about you? Can�
�t you go in? I could give you a list.”
He shook his head. “Sorry. It’s a matter of safety. But these guys are good. They’re not going to let Rose’s house—or anyone else’s—burn down.”
Her eyes said she wanted to believe him, but they were guarded. “Did they say how long before we can go back?”
“No. Why don’t you go back to wherever you were going to stay. I promise I’ll call you when the evacuation is lifted.”
Megan clutched handfuls of hair as if it would clear space in her brain to think. She looked at him, and suddenly she was the stubborn ten-year-old he remembered from grade school. “No. I can’t be that far away. I’m sure Angie will put me up.” Her expression softened. “Sorry.”
He tried to keep the regret off his face. “Hey, I totally understand. No apology necessary. I have a feeling tonight’s going to be an all-nighter anyway.” And not the enjoyable kind.
Megan stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks. Call me as soon as you know anything. And not just about the fire.”
“We’re working on it.” Gordon escorted Megan to the front desk. As she left, he muttered, “Now if only we could get somewhere” under his breath.
He trudged back to his office, hoping Colfax had some news. Preferably good.
Colfax was standing in front of the white board, writing names near the beginning of the timeline. Gordon closed the door behind him. “What do we have?”
“We? I got some names of missing persons. Female, about the right age.”
Gordon watched Colfax finish writing eight names. Eight. And he hadn’t come up with any. “I bow to your expertise. Care to share your methods?”
“Staff,” Colfax said. “Detective wannabes, non-sworns, desk jockeys. Give them a challenge, and they’re like blowflies on a corpse. The thirty-years-ago part was a challenge, but they’ll flip over every pebble in a stream looking for what’s underneath.” He grinned. “Of course, offering to pick up the bar tab of anyone who provides a lead doesn’t hurt.”
“Must be nice,” Gordon said. “Tell me your department pays for the last part, and I’m putting in for a transfer.”
