by Terry McGhee
Having decided not to wait for Hannity’s phone call, I dressed in my hiking clothes and went downstairs to brew some coffee and fix breakfast. If I was to accompany a team to Deadfall Lake and begin combing the area for a grave, I would need to be prepared. I poked around in a closet and dug out a small backpack. Bottled water and some energy bars were stuffed inside the backpack, along with a nylon jacket and sunscreen. Could this entire business be over? It was now Sam’s, and maybe the county sheriff’s job to finish up the business of proving Al Jerkovick killed Roy. I felt an empty feeling of anxiety in my gut.
I poured some cereal into a bowl, cut up a banana, dumped some berries in the bowl, and poured on the milk. Hunger had eluded me this morning, probably the endorphins rushing through my brain or something like that. I gulped the cereal and decided to have coffee at the coffee house near the station. I needed to get out of the house.
The smell of the freshly baked cinnamon rolls assaulted my nose as I walked into the coffee shop. The manager recognized me. “Hi, Jake, what’s happening with you? Here’s a hot roll on the house.”
“I’ll have a cup of your French roast, and things are quieting down with my extra curricula activities.” The place was buzzing as usual. Something about cinnamon rolls and coffee relaxed folks and got them into the chatty mood. I thought Barb and I should stop in here sometime. It looked like a good way to meet people.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and a middle-aged woman said, “Hi, Jake. My name’s Ethyl. I live here in town and saw your picture in the paper with that story about those poor missing kids. You should know that everyone appreciates your volunteering to help our police. And now the FBI is involved. You must be very proud. What can you share about the case?”
Maybe coming to the coffee shop wasn’t such a good idea. I smiled at her and said, “Nothing, it’s still an on-going investigation.” What a great escape line. I gulped some coffee, stood up, and said, “Have a pleasant day,” and hurried out the door.
I unlocked my jeep, and saw no mysterious notes inside. My lucky day. I parked the jeep on Main Street and walked the half block to the police station. The front door was locked, but when I cupped my hand over an eye to look inside, a smiling Sarah was giving me a big wave. She unlocked the door and gave me a hug. “Good morning, Detective. It looks like the target has been taken off your back. The inspector gave me the entire run down…including the scary gun battle. The guys are in the interrogation room. By the way, I bet he didn’t tell you but my boss took a hit to his leg during the gun fight at Deadfall corral. Go on back.”
“Mornin’, Jake. I should have guessed you would be here first thing. Come on in. We will be planning our drive back to the lake to mount a search for Roy’s grave. I am assuming that Darrel gave us a fairly accurate location of an area to search. He seemed desperate to catch a break in his sentencing. Why don’t you talk to Sam awhile? I have to call Roy’s parents and then speak to Wendy’s mother. I’m hoping the news will give Wendy’s mom some closure and ensure Roy’s parents that we are still working the case regarding their son. God, I hate this part of the job.”
I pointed to a bottle of pills on the table in front of Hannity. “I hear you took one for the gipper.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s a clean through and through. No big deal, but Sarah is acting like a mother hen. She set my watch to beep every eight hours.” He opened the bottle and shook out two capsules. “I’m on schedule. One of these is for pain, the other is an antibiotic.” Hannity tossed both into his mouth and swigged a gulp of coffee.
Sam made light of the action. “Yeah, if I had a Purple Heart award, I would bestow our brave inspector full honors for his bravery, and you as well Jake.” We all chuckled. It occurred to me that getting shot anywhere would be traumatic. Three cheers for the inspector.
Hannity got up and limped out of the room to make his phone calls. I wondered if the big guy had ever been shot before.
Sam gave me a detailed rundown about events at Darrel’s cabin and what would now be the plan. “I’m glad you’re going with us to the lake. Hannity has two of his traffic officers and a good friend that will help us with the search. That will make six searchers. If Darrel’s description is accurate, and this assumes Al Jerkovick didn’t lie about where he buried Roy’s body, our search area should be less than four acres approximately.” I pictured the size of four acres. This was smaller than the lot our house sat on. Should be a piece of cake for six hikers that knew what to look for. “It will be thick with trees and a ton of Manzanita bushes, but we most likely are looking for a partially open patch of ground.
“The sheriff is sending over a handler with a cadaver dog. We should be ready to leave in about two hours. First, Hannity and I are going to visit our prisoner at the hospital. We need some questions answered. We should be back here at the station by eleven o’clock if not before. On second thought, Jake, why don’t you come with us to the hospital. You deserve to see the maniac that has hounded you. Just stand to the side and don’t say anything, even if Darrel tries to bait you…got it?”
“Yeah, I’ll keep quiet.”
Hannity pulled the black and white into the single space at the hospital reserved for the police. We all walked through a rear door, and signed a visitor’s log. An armed sheriff deputy was sitting outside the room with another inside when we entered. Darrel was strapped to his bed with his injured leg slightly elevated. An IV drip was running and attached to his arm, probably delivering a saline solution, or maybe antibiotic. Hannity greeted the deputy and introduced Sam and myself. “You can stay in the room deputy, but we have some questions for our prisoner.”
The deputy stepped back next to me away from the bed. Hannity and Sam stood on one side. Hannity said, “OK, Darrel we have some questions for you. Again, telling the truth is in your best interests. Are you going to cooperate with us?” Hannity placed a digital recording device on the bedside tray and informed Darrel that the interview would be recorded.
Darrel’s face was scratched up from his face-first fall in the dirt at the cabin, and he looked to be in pain. I hoped the pain meds didn’t affect his attitude. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got nuthin to lose now I guess.”
Sam held a piece of paper on which he had made some notes, and told Darrel, “We have several questions to ask. If you give us the truth, it might be better for you at sentencing. You know the evidence we have overwhelming ties you directly to several crimes. By the way, the bullet recovered from our investigator’s wall definitely came from your gun.
“First of all, we understand that you have waived the right to an attorney. Is that right?” Darrel nodded his head. “You’ll have to give us a verbal answer for the record.”
Darrel asked for a drink of water, and Hannity handed him a paper cup with water. “Yeah.”
Sam said, “Yeah what? Do you waive the right to an attorney?”
“Yes,” Darrel said. Our captive had definitely given up any hope that a trial would help him.
Sam continued. “This is what we have so far. You have been arrested for attempted murder of two officers of the law, as well as attempted murder of our private investigator. You have verbally confessed to the murder of one Wendy Johnson.” Darrel glared at me and gave me a single finger salute. I fought the urge to grab it and break it. I felt the deputy’s tight grip on the back of my elbow that was telling me to cool it. “Your fingerprints in the truck and the cabin are a match. The boot prints we found at the investigator’s house where you shot at him match the boots you were wearing at the time of your arrest. Your fingerprints were pulled from the van you stole. And of course, they are all over the rifle and hand gun. There will be other charges added to this list, including breaking and entering private property and the theft of a weapon.”
Darrel had closed his eyes. “Inspector Hannity here has some questions for you. Same rules apply.”
I switched places with Sam. Hannity stood at the side of the bed and consulted a piece of paper he had just u
nfolded. “Darrel, do you swear that the location you gave us for Roy’s burial spot is accurate?”
Darrel seemed to be thinking. “I don’t know the exact spot. I just know that Al told me it was just up a ways from the camp site. He told me that Roy was ‘pickin’ up dead wood for the campfire, so it probably was close by.”
“Did Al tell you how he killed Roy?”
“No, and I didn’t ask. We had to get out of there fast.”
Hannity said, “I want to know why you dropped the dime on your nephew. The family ties aren’t so tight, or what?”
“OK…the kid stole a lot of money I had stashed in the cabin. He left town without even saying goodbye. I shoulda known something was kinked. Al was a real bad seed. He had been a thief all his life. The charges he’s in for now in Colorado are nothing compared to murder. I hope he fries.”
Hannity was tapping his pencil on his pad and checked to see that the recorder was still running. “So Al just asks you to help him kill two people, and you were OK with that?”
“Hey, nobody disses a Jerkovick and gets away with it. He is my nephew and I said I would help. You know the rest.”
“Let’s get back to the money he stole from you. How much was it? And where did you get it?”
“It was more than thirty thousand. All cash. Al’s dad made some big bucks with his liquor wholesale business. When he died, Al and I were the only heirs. My brother was smart enough to plan ahead and stashed the dough in a safety deposit box in a bank. We had keys to the box. Al and I divided up the cash. He headed west, and I moved on…that’s it.”
“So how much total cash did the two of you get?”
Darrel was shaking his head back and forth. “It’s none of yer business, and I’m not sayin’. I hid the money good, but my thief of a nephew musta sniffed it out.”
Sam, Hannity, and I exchanged looks, and Sam said, “OK, Darrel, thank you for your cooperation. Our next visit will be in the county lockup. We’ll be in touch.”
Chapter 20
We all drove back to the station to get the caravan and search party to Deadfall Lake under way.
I had a question for Hannity and Sam. “It seems that the only real investigative work now centers on finding Roy’s grave. Even if we do, how can we possibly tie anything to Al Jerkovick?”
Sam replied. “We can hope to find some evidence that can be run through a DNA analysis. I seriously doubt he’ll confess to the murder. With luck, this Al Jerkovick may have left some clues on the body. The most ideal would be a hair from our perpetrator. I am guessing there would’ve been a violent struggle between Roy and Al. If we can find human hair remains that include hair roots, DNA can positively be extracted and compared to our suspect. But that’s step number two, finding the body remains will be a difficult challenge.”
“That means that if we find Roy’s grave, digging it up should really be done by professionals that know how to preserve space immediately around the skeletal remains. Is the FBI willing to get such people?”
Hannity spoke up. “Maybe we need to at least identify where we can find such experts. How about the anthropology department at a university, or any group of scientists who have excavated burial sites?”
“Quantico has such experts available. I will call to get someone checking into this,” Sam offered.
“Alright people,” Hannity said, “our deputy with the cadaver dog is here. Let’s mount up and get a move on.” We all headed out the rear door where two large SUVs were waiting. Everyone loaded up, and followed Hannity’s SUV out on to the road.
After an hour of driving, we arrived at the Deadfall Lake main campsite. We parked and then all hiked up the short trail. Ralph—the big German shepherd—was eager to get working and tugged his handler up the trail past us all. We all gathered in a group and Hannity said, “OK, listen up.” Facing the gentle slope opposite the campsite, Hannity pointed to the general area he wanted us to search. “Let’s pair up and follow any natural path. Our victim, we are told, was looking for firewood so would most likely gravitate toward any area with a lot of fallen branches. The area, I estimate, to be no larger than about four acres. Getting lost is not likely. We will be in voice contact. We’re looking for any open or semi-open space where a grave could have been dug. It will be overgrown some with the passage of time. All right. Let’s move out and try to be back here in one hour.”
The teams moved out, and I started up the slope on my own as a single searcher. I noticed hundreds of dead pinecones and thought these would be great kindling for starting a fire. I had been zigzagging up through the trees and manzanita brush for about twenty minutes when I saw an open area ahead of me. My heart jumped slightly. It looked like the perfect site. The ground was soft and I supposed one could dig a shallow grave easily with a larger dead branch. Centuries of fallen pine needles would allow for easy digging. I circled around the space for a minute or two, not wanting to trample any possible evidence. My focus went to a loose pile of dead branches, each about three feet long. They were all lying next to, or on top of, the other. Moss covered most of the wood pieces. “This has to be it,” I said out loud. Roy had been gathering firewood. This could be the spot where Al ambushed him. Roy would have dropped the armload of firewood, and turned to fight off his attacker, sadly without success.
“Sam! Hannity!” I yelled through the trees. “I found something. Bring the dog over here.” Hannity’s voice was distant when he answered.
“Stay where you are and we’ll be right there.” I could hear the crush of feet on dead pine needles and brush. Ralph gave a few barks, and the handler shouted, “Let’s go get it, boy.”
Within five minutes, everyone quickly emerged to the edge of the area. I told Sam and Hannity my thoughts about the firewood pile.
The Shepherd was straining at the leash as the handler let him loose to sniff out the space. The big dog ran in circles with his nose to the ground. He then stopped, sat up, and barked once. “Good boy,” the handler said to his dog. “I would bet something is buried here. Ralph doesn’t make many mistakes, and he is our best. He is trained to identify human remains, and he is not often fooled.”
He looked at Hannity and Sam and said, “It’s up to you, but we need to start digging here.”
“It would have had to be a shallow grave under the circumstances,” Hannity replied. “I suggest we carefully dig down to see what is there. If we uncover any skeletal remains, we need to consider letting a professional do the fine work of uncovering the bones.”
Sam looked at Hannity. “I agree. We need to carefully mark this space when we leave if it gives up some solid evidence. I can contact our people and get a suggestion about who we should contact.”
Hannity took out a foldable shovel from his pack and started to carefully lift out the soft soil from the center of the open space. Everyone pulled out their water bottles and sat down to watch. Ralph was given a drink of water in a plastic plate. He was the center of attention and was enjoying his moment in the sun. The handler kept praising the dog, and Ralph’s tail was in non-stop motion.
Everyone was quietly chatting and seemed fully aware of this solemn moment. Hannity stood up, wiped his brow, and pointed to the two-foot deep hole. “I think we have something here. That’s definitely a bone, and if I’m not mistaken, I’d say a finger.” Sam dropped to both knees and got his face right down next to the discovery. He gently pushed away some dirt until the finger bone was visible, along with a second one.
Sam dug out a plastic evidence bag and dropped in the one finger bone. “OK, we need to stop where we are. If, as I suspect, there was a struggle, we just might find some evidence right here. Let’s pile a few of these large rocks around this find.” Two of the volunteers brought larger rocks and laid them as instructed. Some larger dead branches were laid on top of the rocks as a further marker. Hannity tied a piece of yellow crime scene tape to a tree next to the site, and to the top dead branch marking the spot.
“OK people, good job, and t
hanks for your help. This could be a defining find and help us nail the murderer. I hate to say it, but circumstances point to this being our victim Roy.”
Sam opened his satellite phone, punched in a number, and waited for someone to pick up. Everyone stood silently and put all digging instruments to one side of the grave site. “Hey, Harry, it’s me. We found human remains in a shallow grave where we suspected it might be. We removed the top soil and found two human finger bones.” There was a pause as Sam listened. “I understand. We won’t disturb the grave further. Do you have anyone that can get here tomorrow to excavate this area?” Sam listened for a couple of minutes then said, “Have her fly into the local airport. Call me with the schedule and I can pick her up. The sooner the better.”
Sam closed his phone and addressed us. “Good news, folks. There is a woman—name is Dr. Emily Potter. She heads the anthropology department at a noted university near San Francisco. She should be arriving with two others by late tomorrow morning. Let’s get this site marked off, and then we can head back over the hill.”
“Hannity and I can bring Dr. Potter and her team to our burial site tomorrow. Thanks again to everyone,” Sam said.
– Chapter 21
The next morning I rode with Sam to the local airport to pick up Dr. Potter and her associate. The flight was on time, and within twenty minutes of the plane landing, we were all piled into the SUV and headed up the mountain. Sam and I introduced ourselves and decided to let the doctor tell us about her work.
Dr. Potter sat in the front passenger seat. She turned sideways so that I would be included in the conversation. “By the way, I am having tool material shipped overnight directly to the police station. This will include small trowels, brushes, soil sifter screens, and such. All of these items will be needed at the burial site.”
