Coming of Winter

by Tom Threadgill

  “He’s ruined,” Mason said. “What am I supposed to do with this mess?” The cutting work was finished, and Troy Obion’s remains lay scattered on a table in the root cellar. His legs were already back in the freezer and the rest needed to go soon before it started to thaw.

  Paula scrubbed both hands across her face, then wrapped her arms tightly around herself and swayed back and forth. “I’m sorry my first murder didn’t meet your high standards, but don’t put this on me.”

  “I’m just trying to explain that—”

  She covered her mouth and dry-heaved several times. “He moved at the last second, okay? Do you even understand what just happened here? The danger we’re in?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “There’s nothing left of one side of his face. You act like a little duct tape and glue will fix this right up. You aimed too high. Center mass, I said. And if that didn’t finish him, I was right there. He wouldn’t have suffered. And shooting people is just like shooting deer. If I had a trophy buck in my sights, I wouldn’t aim for his head, would I?”

  She took a step back and pulled her lips into a thin line. “Maybe it’s the same for you, but you’re not ...”

  “What? I’m not what, Paula? Normal? Is that what you were going to say? You think I’m some kind of psychopath?”

  She sighed and let her shoulders drop. Her hands twitched, and she shoved them into her jeans pockets. “Do we have to do this? We both know the situation. You’re my husband and I love you, but normal people don’t go around killing folks. I’ve never asked you to stop, only to make sure you put our family first.”

  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “Killing people is putting my family first.”

  “I know that. All I’m asking is that you don’t get angry at me for not being as good at it as you are. Being around dead bodies isn’t the same as shooting someone.”

  He sighed and twisted his head, stretching his neck as far as possible. “You’re right. You got the job done. Suppose you did good for your first. Now let’s hope nobody else comes here looking, but if they do, remember. Fifteen minutes or so. That’s all he was here. Asked a few questions and moved on.”

  “Maybe we should’ve waited and seen if he came back before we killed him.”

  “No, he was too suspicious. If he left here, he’d of come back with his friends. Maybe even a search warrant. I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “I know. It’s just that things seem to be occurring so fast. Too fast. That’s how mistakes get made. We’ve got a family, Mason. You, me, two boys. Maybe it’s time to stop, or at least take a long break before one of us gets hurt. The risk is too much. Let’s figure out what to do with him and hope they don’t find that Jeep.”

  “The grinder. That’s all we can do. Nothing but blind luck that we weren’t caught hiding his car. Moving the body now, what with the FBI around and all, is too dangerous. Gonna take a while, though. He’s got to get in line. Lanny won’t be finished up for another few days.”

  “Can’t you just toss some of him in there with the boy?”

  “Doesn’t work that way. Each beetle eats what it eats. Tossing more in there doesn’t make them go faster.”

  “More beetles then?”

  He exhaled a torrent of air and shrugged. “Yeah, we could do that I reckon. Need to pick up a couple more tubs down at Walmart. I can probably have it all up and running in three or four days, maybe sooner, depending on how quick the bugs get here.”

  “You tell me what you need, and I’ll take care of it.”

  “I’ll get a list together. Shouldn’t be too much.”

  “Anything around the farm need doing? I can help with that too, you know. Don’t want you to feel overwhelmed.”

  “Naw. Not much happening other than the corn maze. Another three weeks, and we’ll be closing it down too. Be a good time for a break. Maybe plan a trip to the mountains. Take the boys up to Gatlinburg when they get out for Christmas.”

  Paula swallowed hard. “Sure. A trip sounds nice. Let’s talk about it later though, okay? We need to think through some things. Make sure we’ve got everything covered, you know?”

  “Whatever you want, babe.” He gestured toward the torso lying atop a tarp at his feet. The cop had been a big man, and with time against them, they’d opted to forego the normal procedures and get him in the freezer as quickly as possible. “Looks like most of the blood’s drained out. You want to hold or wrap?”

  She shuddered violently and grabbed the oversize roll of plastic wrap. “I hope you’ve got more of this somewhere.”

  “I’ve got a whole case upstairs. You never know how much you’re going to need.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  Jeremy forced himself to breathe through his nose and checked the GPS again. ETA twelve minutes at posted speeds. He’d be there in half that time. The narrow, twisty roads wound through farmland along the edge of the Forked Deer River. Open brown fields of harvested corn and cotton, bordered by dense clusters of trees, flew past. If a deer decided to make its appearance on the road now, they’d both be done for.

  He swung wide around a sharp right turn, ignoring the slip of his rear tires. Near Buck Creek, just west of Eaton Brazil Road. That’s where the deputy sheriff said he’d be. Another glance at the GPS. Two minutes. Maybe three.

  His phone rang and he risked a glance. Maggie. Too dangerous to talk at these speeds. Let it go to voice mail. On the horizon, a row of trees ran left to right. That’s got to be the stream.

  Jeremy braked hard and craned his neck, searching the dirt path that bisected the street. West. Left. He bounced off the pavement into the ruts paralleling the creek. A hundred yards in, the stream meandered off to the left and allowed a strip of arable land to arise. Broken corn stalks dotted the tiny field. Two turns, maybe three at the most, of a combine would handle the whole patch. How did they get such big equipment into places like this? No land went to waste.

  A couple of hundred yards later, the trees moved back in, hemming the road in on both sides. Jeremy’s vehicle bounced along for another half minute before a clearing opened up. A white car, “Crockett County Sheriff” emblazoned in green along the side, sat parked beside a silver pickup truck with a blue/red light bar atop its cab.

  Jeremy pulled close and hopped out. His leg didn’t bother him often since the blood clot, but today it was angry. He moved quickly toward the two men waiting for him.

  The man in the uniform raised a hand in greeting. “You the FBI guy?”

  Jeremy showed his ID. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m Deputy Claymore. This here’s Deputy Branson. He was off-duty when I got the call.”

  The men exchanged handshakes and head nods.

  “Where’s the vehicle?” Jeremy asked.

  Claymore gestured to a thicket of trees behind him. “Back about fifteen feet or so. The pine trees get pretty thick so we’re lucky the copter spotted it.”

  “Any idea how long the vehicle’s been there?”

  “None. This area’s been searched from the air two or three times already. You know, just hoping to spot something that might help us find the boy. It’s a little far from where the TBI’s focused, but we’re looking everywhere. And like I said, thick as them trees are, the boys in the sky could’ve missed it before.”

  “Got it. You tape it off yet?”

  Both deputies shook their heads. “Ain’t touched it. Took a look inside and figured that’s all we needed to see. Nobody in the Jeep or surrounding area near as we can tell.”

  “Who else is coming?”

  “The sheriff, of course. The TBI is supposed to be sending somebody too. Want to make sure there’s no link between this and the boy. Don’t see how there couldn’t be, though.”

  “And why is that, Deputy?”

  “Lots of stuff happening around here at once. Too much to not be connected. Look, we’re not exactly Mayberry. Got our share of problems. Meth, domestic violence, the occasional shooting or stabbing. But a kidnapped
boy and a missing cop in the same week? And rumor is the TBI found some bones that don’t belong to either one of them. I might look young, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  “Uh-huh. Don’t solve the crime without getting the evidence first. Kind of hard to get a conviction that way.”

  The deputy rested his hand on his service weapon. “Yep, it is. Conviction or not, I’d be happy just to get the two of them back alive for now. Worry about the rest of it later.”

  Tensions in the community were high and if—when—they caught the kidnapper, he’d need some serious protection. Wouldn’t be the first time law enforcement looked the other way. “Got it. Show me to the vehicle?”

  “Right this way, sir.”

  Decades of pine needles covered the ground, and Jeremy paused before going deeper into the trees. He squatted and peered intently ahead. Two slight parallel indentations led to where he assumed the Jeep was parked. Any potential evidence should be fairly easy to spot as long as it wasn’t any shade of brown.

  “Stay to the left,” Jeremy said. He motioned along the vehicle’s path. “It came through here and I don’t want to disturb anything that may be on the ground.”

  “You’re the boss,” Deputy Branson said. “If you stand over here, you can just make out the back of the Jeep. Looks like they drove it up there as far as they could, then took a sharp right to get it as far out of view as possible.”

  “All right. Gentlemen, if you don’t mind, could you wait here for the TBI? I’d like to get a look at the scene by myself.”

  The deputies exchanged a glance. “Whatever you want.”

  Jeremy nodded and moved toward the vehicle, checking the ground before gently stepping straight down, careful not to shuffle his feet. After four steps, hope was sucked from his chest. Bright red. Sitting high atop huge tires. And an Indiana license plate. Troy.

  Doesn’t mean anything. This is good. A clue. Troy found something. Someone.

  Now I have to find him. That’s all. Done it before. Do it again.

  He paused to review the scene. Woodsy pine scent mingled with river odors. Isolated location, so most likely the vehicle had been driven back here intentionally. Had to be someone familiar with the area. He tilted his head back and stared at the sky. Not much opening between the trees. A miracle anyone had spotted the Jeep.

  Jeremy slipped latex gloves on and approached the vehicle from the driver’s side. The door was closed. The window down. No sign of trouble thus far. Another step and he could get a look inside the—

  The window wasn’t down. It was gone. Pieces of glass littered the driver’s seat and the space behind. The black leather interior had a speckling of red, some dots the size of quarters, some the size of pinheads. The bigger ones had a trail where gravity had drawn them down.

  Jeremy spun from the vehicle and staggered as far as he could before falling to his knees and throwing up. When finished, he moved farther away and sat with his back against the scratchy bark of an old pine.

  When the deputies arrived with the TBI almost twenty minutes later, he was still sitting, carefully inspecting each hollow point as he snapped them back into his Glock’s magazine. This same weapon had almost killed a man in Afghanistan. There’d be no almost in Tennessee.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  “Give me an update. What do we know?” Director Bailey said. Jeremy edged closer to the speakerphone. “The Jeep was located almost seven hours ago. We’re waiting on DNA analysis to confirm, but I’m confident it’s Troy’s blood. The TBI is bringing his vehicle in for more testing.”

  “Okay. Get the Rapid-DNA back from Little Rock. Priority One on my authority. I want confirmation as soon as possible. Is the location of the vehicle the crime scene?”

  Jeremy cleared his throat. “Not likely. We found a few shards of window glass outside, probably tracked out by whoever drove the Jeep there. No blood or drag marks to indicate Troy was removed from the vehicle at the site. Most likely happened elsewhere and the perpetrator dumped the car there. Figured no one would find it for a long time. Maybe even planned to move it again when things calmed down.”

  “Theories?”

  “Gunshot through the window. Based on the glass dispersion inside and bloodstains on the doorjamb, Troy was standing there with the door open. Either getting in or getting out. No way to know. Any glass that remained intact was knocked inside the vehicle. My guess is so they wouldn’t attract any attention when moving the Jeep.”

  “Physical evidence besides blood splatter?”

  Jeremy sniffled and grabbed the desk’s edge to stop the sudden dizziness. “Um ...”

  “Agent Winter, listen. You don’t have to do this. There may be no connection between Officer Obion’s disappearance and the Palmer boy. And certainly nothing that indicates either case is tied to your serial killer theory. You can back off. Let the locals handle it.”

  “Not going to happen. The TBI is going to formally request our assistance if they haven’t already. Law enforcement is swamped, and the Palmer case is going to be officially designated a child abduction. They need help, sir. And they need it fast.”

  “When I get the request, I’ll give them what I can spare. Until then, we’ll assist only when asked. Too many agencies involved and things get lost in the shuffle. Nobody wants that. And I know what I say isn’t going to have any impact on whatever you’re going to do. Now, besides the blood splatter in the Jeep, is there anything indicating Officer Obion might not have survived the shooting?”

  Jeremy brushed a hand under his eyes. “Possible bone fragments and brain matter.”

  Bailey grunted. “The bullet recovered?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Who’s got jurisdiction?”

  “The local sheriff’s handling it for now. The TBI is hanging back and will assist as needed. Troy’s vehicle’s being taken to Jackson so their crime scene techs can go over it. Memphis is on standby if they’re needed. Any prints they find will be uploaded as soon as possible.”

  “What’re you thinking?”

  “Troy found something. Whether my case or the Palmer case or both, I don’t know. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “Your plan?”

  “I’ve retraced what I know of his day. No one stood out. Nice, quiet folks.”

  “Always the way it is, isn’t it?”

  Jeremy cleared his throat again and straightened in his chair. “Mostly. The neighbor on the news saying they had no idea the guy next door stored body parts in his basement. Such a nice boy. Kept his lawn mowed. No wild parties. Waved when he got his mail. Such a pity.”

  “Keep at it. If there’s a connection, find it before someone else gets killed. I’ll see if I can get you some help in the meantime.”

  “I appreciate that, sir, but it’s not necessary. I work better alone.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Um, sir, unless you’re ordering me to—”

  A gentle tap on his office door and a redheaded, green-eyed vision appeared.

  Jeremy swallowed hard. “Maggie?”

  Her wrinkled brow and slight frown pulled all his emotion to the surface. The pain and anger. The grief and frustration. Energy bolted from his body and he slumped back in the chair.

  She moved behind him and placed her face next to his. “We’ll find him.”

  He pulled his lips into his mouth, sniffled, and shook his head. “He’s gone, Maggie.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  “You’re sure that’s all?” Mason asked. “He didn’t say anything else?”

  Paula refilled his sweet tea and topped the drink off with a fresh lemon wedge. “Honey, we’ve been through this several times already. I told you everything. He was FBI. Asked a few questions about that cop and left. That’s it.”

  He bit into his BLT, heavy on the B and mayo, then brushed a napkin across his lips. “Jeremy Winter, huh?”

  “Yeah. Seemed to be in a hurry. He knows something’s up, just doesn’t kno
w what, I think.”

  “You still got the cop’s phone?”

  “In the bedroom gun safe.”

  “Grab it for me, would you?”

  Mason’s sandwich was gone by the time she returned and handed him Troy’s cell.

  “Can’t believe a police officer didn’t have a password on his phone. Guess he figured nobody’d mess with him,” he said.

  “Lucky for us though.”

  “Maybe. But at least when they go looking for him, the last place his phone was won’t be here.”

  “And you’re positive you popped the battery out at the high school before you came home?”

  He turned the cell over in his hand and nodded. “Yep. Best get rid of the thing, I suppose. If they come back here looking, don’t need them to find that.”

  Paula chuckled. “Honey, if they come back here with a search warrant, there are a whole lot worse things they could find.”

  Mason stared out the kitchen window. Acres and acres of farmland. The story of a family. “I don’t want to lose it, Paula. Can’t.”

  She moved behind him, wrapped her arms around his chest, and bent to his ear. “Never. This is the Miller farm. Always has been. Always will be. We have a plan, remember? I just wish there was a way to test it beforehand.”

  He dabbed at the bacon crumbs on his plate, then sipped the last of his tea. “Might could on a smaller scale, but it’d be hard to do without someone noticing. It’ll work. I’ve triple-checked everything.”

  She straightened and patted his back. “Then we’ve done all we can do. Now then, you plan to sit here all day or you gonna get your chores done? I swear, I never thought I’d marry such a lazy man.”

  Mason rubbed his stomach. “Lazy? Feed a man a meal like that, what do you expect? All I can do to keep my eyes open.”

  “Uh-huh. Best get on out of here then before I start giving you some jobs around the house. Got a list of stuff needs doing.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m going, I’m going. Got a lot of work to do in the barn. Those new beetles came in and I reckon they’re hungry for their lunch too.”