by C. E. Nelson
Dave was again impressed by her quick analysis as well as how well she filled out her shorts and her long tan legs. “Anything else?”
“I don’t see any wounds that are visible on his arms or hands so there apparently wasn’t any attempt to defend himself. Other than that, I’ll need a closer inspection here and at the lab. Are you gentlemen done with the body?”
“We need to get photographs before anything is moved,” responded Dave. “Danny, do you want to grab your camera? Make sure you get multiple shots from different angles as well as shots of each room like before.”
While the deputy went to the dock to retrieve his camera Dave followed the doctor down to the lake. They stood silently for several minutes looking at the water. A bald eagle landed high in a pine on a tiny island seventy-five yards from shore.
“This is such a beautiful place and now someone is trying to ruin it. That makes me very angry. Why would someone do that sheriff?” asked Linda as she continued to watch the eagle.
“I don’t know. But I am afraid that this may get worse before it gets better. The killer is getting increasingly angry.”
“Do you have any suspects?”
“A few, but nothing solid yet. We’re still following leads. But this is quickly getting to the point that this small department is going to need help.” Dave had said ‘department’ but he had meant himself as well. He had always been sure of his abilities, and still was, but with little confidence in his staff he needed someone he could count on, he needed his brother here now. “The media is in on it now. That will really hurt the resort business here but maybe that’s what the killer wants. Maybe he’ll stop.” Dave didn’t believe it.
Linda looked up at Dave as he stared out over the lake lost in thought. “You will catch whoever is doing this. I have no doubt.”
The strong conviction in her voice somehow reassured the sheriff. Dave turned to reply but found himself lost in brown eyes that left him without words. He forgot what they were talking about and found himself wanting this woman close to him, this woman he hardly knew. He wanted to hold her and feel her. She seemed about to say something when Danny called from the cabin that he had finished.
“Will you and the deputy be able to help me with the body?”
“Um, sure,” he replied. Linda turned and walked back to the cabin with Dave close behind.
She walked past Danny and again knelt next to the body. “This will be a few minutes. Would one of you mind getting the body bag from the boat? It’s in the storage compartment in the front.”
Meline went for the boat while Trask found himself wandering around the cabin again. He leaned against the counter in the kitchen watching Linda work on the body. All of this blood and the killer had seemingly left nothing for them at any of the murder scenes. Dave suddenly felt tired and defeated. He wished that Eaves’ coffee maker had one hot cup in it for him. Hell, he thought, he’d take it cold. Suddenly he felt a rush and shouted for Danny who was just entering the door, scaring the doctor in front of him.
“I’m right here sheriff, you don’t have to yell.”
“I want an evidence bag and a sealed container right now!” yelled Trask as he looked closely at the coffee cup that sat on the counter in from of the coffee maker.
Meline turned and ran to the boat while Linda stood and looked over at Dave.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You see that coffee cup on the floor?”
“Yes.”
“And you see this one here?” he said as he pointed to the cup on the counter.
“Yes.”
“They both have or, in the case of the one on the floor, had coffee in them yesterday. I think our killer was having a cup of coffee with the deceased.”
Chapter Twenty-three
By the time they were back at the boat landing it was late afternoon. Dave and Danny helped load the body into the ME’s vehicle and watched it drive away.
“Danny, I want you to drive this coffee cup to Minneapolis and have fingerprinting and DNA testing done. I’ve called my brother and he will be expecting you. He has cleared their lab to expedite a DNA test for us. You are to stay there until you get results of the tests and then call me with the results. Is that clear? “
“Sheriff we could get a delivery guy to do this. I need to be out there looking for this guy. We need all the help we can get on this one right here,” protested the deputy.
“I won’t argue about this. You’re right about us being short-handed here but this is the piece of evidence that could tell us who this killer is and put him away. I’ve got to have someone I can trust on this who knows how to handle evidence. The sooner we get the results the sooner we grab this guy. Just follow orders!”
Meline walked as slowly as possible to the truck, turning back to Trask as he pulled open the door. “I still think this is a mistake.”
“I understand Danny. Now go!”
Danny unhooked the trailer and climbed in the truck. “You need a ride to the station?” he shouted leaning out his window.
Dave had forgotten his truck was still at the station but he didn’t want Danny to know. “I’ll call one of the others to come and get me and the boat. Call me when you get there.”
Meline nodded and got in the truck, spinning the tires in the gravel as he left the lot. Dave watched him go and then called Don to let him know that Danny was on the way. Dave asked that Don personally look at the results before giving them to his deputy and call him with the results as soon as Danny left.
“You checking up on the kid?” asked Don.
“I guess. You are about the only one I trust right now, which considering how you stole my last girlfriend in high school from me, should make you feel pretty good.”
“Jeannie never really liked you anyway. You were way too quiet for her.”
“So you admit that you stole her?”
“That girl made up her own mind and you know it!”
“Right. You tricked her into thinking that you were me and then when she found out she said she wouldn’t go out with me because she couldn’t really be sure it was me.”
“I can not help it if the girl was so blind she could not see how much better looking I am than my older brother.”
“Sure. Call me when you get the results Don. I need to get this guy.”
“OK. Talk to you later.”
Dave walked to the end of the dock where he called Kyle and asked him to drive his truck to the landing. A largemouth bass swam by the end of the dock as Dave looked down in the water. “Why am I not trying to catch you Mr. Fish? What the hell am I doing here?” asked Dave out loud.
It was late afternoon but the sun was still high and hot. Dave felt the sweat run between his shoulders and wondered if it was from the heat or his job. Probably both he thought. Aside from the coffee cup, he really had nothing. Maybe this guy was a ghost. How could he possibly do what he has done and not leave something?
The dock at the landing, like most in the area, was a floating dock of wood over Styrofoam built in eight-foot sections that were connected by large pins. The ice on the Minnesota lake in the winter would quickly destroy any dock left in the water, so the floating sections made the dock easier to drag on shore in the fall.
As Dave stood at the end of the dock staring off at the lake he felt the dock move. He turned to see a large man, maybe six four and 230 pounds, in a stained red t-shirt and jeans looking at him. A large knife hung from his belt.
“You sheriff Trask?”
Dave tensed. Did everybody in this area carry big knives? How could he have not heard this man approach? He had left his gun locked in the boat that was docked between him and the man now walking toward him. If he could stall, Kyle would be here soon.
“Yes. How can I help you?”
“I hear you been looking for Billie Whitehead,” the man replied as he stopped roughly ten feet from Trask, his right hand resting on the knife handle at his side, his eyes locked on Dave.
This could be Whitehead from the description Dave recalled. The man had a belly but he was still muscular. “That’s right. Who are you?”
“I’m Dave Martin. I guide at the Thunderbird.”
“And you know where Billie is?”
“He’s at my house.”
“And why are you telling me this?”
“I make my living guiding. If there are no guests then I don’t make any money.”
Warning bells were going off on Dave’s head. This is too easy, he thought. He looked at the knife. There was no strap holding it in the sheath. “What is he doing at your house Mr. Martin?”
“He’s a cousin of my wife. He came looking for a place to stay a few days ago.”
Trask took two small steps closer to the man whose hand still rested on his knife handle. There was no way Dave was getting to his weapon with the man calling himself Dave Martin standing where he was but if he got close enough he could possibly charge him before he raised his blade. “And does he know that you are here?”
“No.”
Over Martin’s shoulder Dave could see his truck driving into the lot with Kyle at the wheel. Despite the sound of the vehicle, Martin did not take his eyes off Dave. Dave tensed. If this were really Whitehead he would either attack now or run. “That’s my deputy. Let’s go talk with him about how we handle this.” Martin looked intently at Trask a moment more and then gave a slight nod.
Chapter Twenty-four
Kyle told Tony to meet them about a block from Dave Martin’s house. Martin rode in his truck with Trask and filled him in on the layout of the house. He assured him that only Billie would be there as his wife had taken their son to Minneapolis to see a doctor.
Martin’s house was a single-story white aluminum-sided rambler with a single-stall detached garage sitting slightly further back from the road than the house. There were two bedrooms to the left as you faced the house, the kitchen in the back, and a family room to the right of the door in the front with a picture window facing the road. Whitehead had been sleeping on the couch in the family room and so had been keeping the drapes closed. The house sat about fifty yards back from the county road with a gravel driveway. The yard in front to the road was cleared of trees but the woods grew close on the sides and rear. The nearest home was roughly a quarter mile away on either side.
There were two entrances to the home. Two steps lead up to a door in front that opened to a small entryway and a door in back opened into the kitchen. The back door had an outer screen door - the front did not. Martin claimed that both doors were unlocked when he left.
Tony Clark pulled in behind the two trucks parked on the side of the road and joined the men next to Trask’s truck. Dave looked at his two deputies and had no doubt that they had never had a situation like this before. A wanted and highly dangerous man was inside, a man that would rather fight and be killed than be taken into custody, especially when cornered by the law. Split-second reactions could determine who would be injured – or killed.
Trask decided that Clark and Bauman were to cut through the brush to the edge of the yard behind the house, calling Dave when they reached their position. After calling they were to wait five minutes and then move to the back door, guarding it in case Whitehead would try to escape that way. Since Billie had never seen Trask before, he and Martin would park in the driveway in front of the garage after Kyle called. They’d enter through the front door. Dave had no idea how it would go with Whitehead, but from what Martin had told him Billie was getting pretty drunk at night and sleeping most of the day. Dave hoped Billie would be out.
At Kyle’s call, Dave and Martin drove in the driveway. The drapes were still closed but the loud television told them that Whitehead was likely awake. Martin entered the house first as he pocketed his keys, Trask close behind. Whitehead sat across the room from them, lying back in a brown corduroy lounge chair, a remote on the armrest, and a beer in his left hand. Dave immediately noticed the knife at Whitehead’s side.
Dave wanted to move close and keep Whitehead seated but Martin was blocking his way. Whitehead stood as soon as Trask was in the door, his eyes fixed on him.
“What the fuck!” shouted Whitehead at Martin. “Who the fuck is this?”
“Cool it Billie. This is Dave Trask and he has a couple of questions for you.”
“This is a fucking cop man! Why the fuck did you bring a cop here?” Whitehead shouted as he waved his hands over his head.
This was going exactly as Dave did not want it to go. “Mr. Whitehead, I just have a few questions for you.”
“Questions! What fucking questions?”
“There have been some murders in the area and…”
“Murders! What the fuck Dave? You think I did these?” he screamed looking at Martin. “How the hell could you think that!”
“Please calm down Mr.Whitehead. I just want to ask you a few questions,” said Dave as he tried to step by Martin in the narrow hallway.
Whitehead immediately drew his knife from its sheath. It had a serrated top and a blade that had been honed by hand to a razor sharp edge.
“Easy Billie,” said Trask as he tried to remain calm, holding his hands in the air. “Why don’t you put the knife away so we can talk?”
“Like hell! You stay the fuck away from me! Dave, I trusted you man! I ought to slice you open you asshole!” Whitehead had moved so that his back was now to the open doorway to the kitchen. “You ain’t never going to catch me! I’m out of here!”
There was a small concrete slab for a patio behind the house, the back door at the center of it. As Martin had mentioned, there was a screen door on the back, glass on the bottom half and screen mesh on the top. The interior door was fully open to the kitchen. Bauman and Clark hustled across the yard to the back of the house and positioned themselves on either side of the door, drew their guns, and looked at each other for some clue as to what they should do next. That was when they heard the shouting begin inside the house. Bauman peeked his head around the doorframe and could see Trask standing behind Martin when someone who he assumed was Whitehead moved into his line of vision. Whitehead was holding a large knife. Bauman reached for the handle and pushed the button. It was unlocked.
As Whitehead turned, Bauman and Clark came through the back door, their guns in front of them.
Billie turned back to Dave and Martin, rage in his eyes. “You piece of shit! You are fucking dead Dave!” he screamed as he lunged at Martin, stabbing him in the stomach. He pulled his knife back to stab again as Dave reached past the slumping Martin and grabbed Whitehead’s arm, lifting it up.
As Trask struggled to hold Billie’s arm, he glanced past his shoulder to see Bauman raising his weapon. “No!” he shouted, but it was too late. A single shot rang out. Dave watched Billie’s eyes widen and then close as he went limp, Dave holding on to slow him as he collapsed to the floor. Bauman stood frozen, his gun still pointed ahead, his eyes unfocussed.
Whitehead’s breathing was shallow. Martin was on the floor to Dave’s left, his back to the wall, and his right hand over his wound that was now bleeding through his fingers and darkening his pants below his hand.
“Tony! Get an ambulance here now! And get the first aid kit from the truck!” screamed Trask as his deputies stood staring at the bloody scene in front of them. “TONY!”
Clark looked to Dave and then turned and ran out the back door.
“Kyle, I need your help here. Kyle! Holster your weapon and find a towel.”
Bauman looked at the gun in his hand as if he had never seen it before and then looked back to where Dave was on his knees next to Whitehead. He didn’t move.
“Shit!” exclaimed Dave as he jumped to his feet. He grabbed Kyle by the wrist of the hand holding the gun with one hand and carefully removed the weapon from his hand with the other. He dropped the gun on the couch and lead Bauman to the chair where Whitehead sat when they entered and pushed him down. He then ran to the bathroom and pulled down a towel draped over
the shower curtain rod.
By the time Dave got back to living room Whitehead was dead and Martin had lost consciousness. He removed the bloody hand of Martin that still covered his wound and pressed the towel firmly down.
Chapter Twenty-five
As Dave and Tony worked to keep Martin alive, the ambulance arrived. Trask stood to let the EMT’s take over as his phone buzzed.
“Tell me you got something brother,” answered Dave.
“Sorry, no can do,” replied Don. “There was nothing on the cup or in it. It’s like it was wiped clean. You OK? What’s all the noise?”
Dave stepped outside. It was finally getting dark and the mosquitoes were coming out in force. “I got Whitehead.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Wrong. One of my deputies shot him.”
“That’s not so good. Is he..?”
“Yeah. You know Don, I’m not convinced he even did it. He was screaming at the guy who lead me to him that he didn’t do it, and I believe he was telling the truth,” said Dave as he slapped a mosquito on his neck.
“I’ll be there in the morning little brother.”
“Don’t make it too early. Thanks Don.”
As soon as he hung up his phone buzzed again. It was Danny.
“Hey sheriff, got the results and there was nothing. It was one wasted trip.”
Dave was furious. His deputy seemed to have no idea of how important what he just did could have been. “Why the hell didn’t you call me when you got there?”
“Um, sorry sheriff, I guess I forgot. It didn’t really make any difference anyway.”
If Dave could have choked him through the phone he would have at that moment.
“Hey, I hear you got Billie. That’s great news!”
“I don’t believe he is our killer Danny.” Trask tried to remain calm.
“Sure he is. He’s a fucking hothead Indian who hated whites. He did it alright.”
Dave could barely contain his anger. “Get back here NOW!”
The line went dead.
