by L A Dobbs
Sam and Jo exchanged a glance. She’d come in person? She must really be worried about her company.
Sam went out to the lobby and shook her hand. She was dressed in a pale blue suit. She looked petite. Feminine. But he got the sense that she was hard as nails underneath. He didn’t get the feeling that she had a hidden agenda as he did with Marnie Wilson. Seemed like Beryl Thorne was a straight shooter.
“We were just in the squad room talking over the case. Did you find out anything about the land?” Sam walked Beryl back into the squad room, and she and Jo nodded at each other.
Beryl handed Sam a stack of papers. “I had the legal department research that land. We bought it three years ago. It was in a trust. Like I said, that’s pretty common.”
Sam barely glanced at the papers. Reese had already discovered this, but he appreciated Beryl taking the time to come down to the station and didn’t want her to think her efforts were for nothing. “Thank you. I appreciate it. Does it say who owned the trust?”
“No, our records only indicate the trust as the seller.” Beryl looked around the squad room. “Do you know any more about what went on in that cabin? I mean, if whatever happened there was more than three years ago my company could hardly be held accountable.”
“I don’t think you’d be held accountable anyway,” Sam reassured her. He hadn’t heard back from the hazmat people as to how long they thought it had been abandoned. He wasn’t even certain they could tell for sure. But unless someone in Beryl’s company was directly involved in cooking meth he doubted they would have any responsibility. The presence of the bog birch leaf found in the shallow graves made him certain that the cabin was directly related to the skeletal remains, but that had happened before the company had even owned the land. The question was, who was the previous owner?
“That certainly is a relief.” Beryl’s eyes drifted to the cork board. Her eyes widened, and she quickly jerked them away. “I wouldn’t want my family name to be tarnished. But I certainly do hope you find the person who did this.”
“We’ll do our best.”
Sam walked Beryl to the lobby and held the door as she left. Reese was still intent on her iPad. Lucy sat patiently at her feet. Major must’ve found a new spot to hide, because he was nowhere to be seen.
“I want you to check another person. Name is Amber Desrocher. She could be one of our victims,” Sam said.
“I’m on it…” Reese’s eyes drifted over Sam’s shoulder, and he turned around to see Holden Joyce opening the door.
“Didn’t expect to see you so soon.” Sam said.
Holden shrugged. “The quicker we work this case, the quicker these families get closure. And I think we can at least agree on that.”
“Fair enough,” Sam said. “And in the interest of sharing information, we have a couple of new leads.” Sam wasn’t sure Jo would want Holden to know about her sister’s drug addiction, so he simply said, “We have a name that might be one of the victims, and we also just discovered the cabin changed hands three years ago.”
“Three years ago? I talked to the hazmat guys today and they think that meth lab was in operation long before that. I also talked to the medical examiner and found out that the skeletal remains have been there for five to six years. So I specifically asked the hazmat guys if they had any idea how long operations were going on in that cabin. They could tell by some of the chemical residue and the way it had changed over time that the meth lab was in operation during that time.” Holden looked from Sam to Jo, who had joined them in the lobby. “So I guess that means your guy Thorne is out then, right?”
“I wouldn’t say it rules him out. But it is one less tie to him,” Sam admitted.
“Maybe not. What if we find out that Sundown Realty Trust was owned by Thorne,” Jo asked. “It makes sense he might sell it to his wife’s company.”
“But Beryl would’ve known if he was the beneficiary of that trust. Surely she would have said something when she was here earlier.”
“Wait a minute. Did you say Sundown Realty Trust?” Holden asked.
“Yes. The land was in a trust, but we don’t know who the person behind it is.”
“I know who it is,” Holden said. “That’s Joseph Menda, and right now he’s in jail for murder.”
Chapter Twenty
“Murder?” Sam glanced over the tops of the post office boxes to the cork board in the squad room. The coincidence of a murderer owning the land tied to the skeletal remains was a great lead. But if Menda was the killer and had owned the meth lab, that meant Thorne wasn’t the killer. Unless, of course, the two of them had worked together.
Holden nodded, his eyes following Sam’s. “Girls. More than one.”
Reese whistled. “Sounds like he could be our guy.”
“Can’t be.” Holden’s jaw was tight.
“Why not?” Reese frowned at her computer. “Says here his trial was three years ago. Our girls have been there longer than that. Maybe he just didn’t get caught for these murders yet.”
“I wish this case was that easy, but I don’t think he could have done it.” Holden squinted as if trying to force data to the front of his brain. “It’s his M.O. to bury them in shallow graves, but, as I recall, he’d been in jail in Texas for almost killing his girlfriend before that, and I believe that’s in the timeframe John said our girls were killed.”
“That explains why Mervale got that property so cheap.”
Holden nodded. “Fire sale to pay for his defense.”
“I’m surprised Mervale bought the land. Beryl Thorne seemed concerned about the family name. Seems like buying land from a murderer would taint it.”
“But Beryl wasn’t in charge of Mervale then. Her brother was. Maybe he cares more about cheap land,” Jo said.
“They might not have known it was tied to Menda,” Holden said. “A realty trust hides the beneficiary’s name. Lawyers could have done the deal and the officers of the company would have been none the wiser. Menda comes from money, but even money can’t help when you’re a sadistic killer.”
“That also explains why Mervale didn’t know a cabin existed. Menda probably didn’t mention it so no one would discover what else he’d been up to out there.”
“If he knew it was being used for meth,” Holden pressed his lips together. “We didn’t have any indication he was involved in drugs.”
Sam looked at him. “No?” There might be hope to nail Thorne yet. “Maybe Menda didn’t. Maybe Thorne knew about the cabin and knew no one came to the land. Figured it would be a convenient place to set up shop.”
Jo snapped her fingers. “And maybe when he found out his wife’s company bought it he cleared out because that was just too close of a link to him.”
“Looks like we need to talk to Menda,” Sam said.
Holden nodded. “He’s in the New Hampshire State Prison in Concord. Best if you guys go without me… He and I don’t have the best relationship. Be careful. He’s smart, sneaky, and doesn’t have an ounce of remorse.”
Concord was only a three-hour drive, so Jo and Sam left right away in the Tahoe. Sam had suggested that he go with Wyatt instead of Jo, but one dagger-like glare from his sergeant told him to back off. Still, he felt protective of her as they sat on hard orange plastic chairs in the interview room, the scent of bleach and despair stinging his nostrils.
Joseph Menda shuffled in, the pant legs of his orange jumpsuit a little too long. His hands were cuffed in front of him, and his eyes sized them up, lingering on Jo a little too long.
Menda wasn’t anything like Sam had expected. He was thin, wiry, with a bushy head of hair. It was his eyes that gave away what was inside. Cold and dead with not an ounce of remorse, just as Holden had said.
He plopped into the chair, a smile spreading across his face. He’d almost be handsome if it wasn’t for those flat, dead eyes.
“So what can I do for ya?” His demeanor reminded Sam of a kid being let out on a field trip. He was enjoying this.
“We have a question about your old property.”
“Old property?”
“Up in Colebrook. A little cabin where you might have had a side business going.”
Menda’s forehead wrinkled. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“Drugs, meth. I know you weren’t arrested for that, but we found evidence on your land.”
Menda raised his brows in faux innocence. “This supposed land in Colebrook? Never been there. My grandparents left me a bunch of land. It’s all gone now. I’m not copping to any drug charges.”
“Really? How about a few young girls that ended up in shallow graves near there?”
Menda laughed. “Trying to pin more murders on me? That happens all the time.” Chains clanked as he gestured to the door. “As you can see I’m in no position to be killing young girls. Though I do wish I was.”
Sam’s stomach churned, but he continued. “This was five years ago. You’ve only been here for three.”
“Sorry. Not me. They got me on all the ones I killed.” He leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with interest. “But tell me, what exactly did you find?”
Sam fought the urge to leave. The man was repulsive, but he wanted answers. “Three girls. Runaways probably. Found in shallow graves. I hear that’s your M.O.”
“I’m hardly the first guy to stuff someone in a shallow grave. Deep graves are hard to dig or I’d have buried mine deeper.”
“So you’re denying any involvement with these girls?”
“I don’t know, maybe if I could see a photo…” Menda leaned even closer, his breath quickening.
Sam had brought photos, but wasn’t sure he should show them. The guy was practically salivating to see them. Then again, if it would get him some answers…
He took them out of his shirt pocket and slid them across the table. The shallow grave, ivory-colored bones, the hole-punctured tarp. Menda’s eyes lit up.
“Look familiar?”
Menda sat back and sighed “Not really. That’s not my work. Fascinating, though. Wish they had a bit more flesh on them.”
“What about the holes in the tarp?”
Menda frowned and leaned forward again. “Those look like they were done on purpose. Why?”
“We were hoping you could tell us,” Jo said.
Menda pivoted his attention to Jo. “Sorry, can’t help you there. Maybe someone was trying to improve on my process.”
“Improve?”
“Yeah, you know, copycat, but with an additional twist.”
“You think this killer was a copycat?”
“Believe it or not, I have people who study me. Maybe someone was learning from me like I learned by studying the greats.”
Serial killers copied one another? Sam glanced at Jo. She didn’t look surprised.
“So you think whoever did this studied you?”
Menda leaned back in his chair, smug. “Sure. How does any good artist learn their craft? They study from a master.”
“And you’re a master,” Jo said.
He tried to spread his hands, but the cuffs stopped him. He put them back in his lap. “Certainly. I get fan mail and emails all the time complimenting me, boasting and asking for tips. Of course, the prison censors them, but you can read between the lines.” A smile of self-importance crossed his lips.
“Any idea who in particular might have killed these girls?” Sam tapped the photo.
Menda twisted his lips and squinted. “Five years ago, you say? No idea. I don’t know who my followers are anyway, so wouldn’t be any help.”
Sam collected the photos and put them in his pocket.
Menda looked disappointed. His eyes met Sam’s. “So if this was five years ago and you haven’t caught the guy, why aren’t there any fresh kills?”
“That’s what I was wondering. Either the person moved on or maybe he’s in prison.”
“Or taking a break,” Jo cut in. “Sometimes killers go dormant.”
Menda licked his lips and nodded slowly. “That’s true, they do. I took a break once. Ten years.” He leaned forward, his dull eyes flashing a glint of excitement. “But that urge to kill never goes away completely, so if your guy hasn’t killed anyone in five years, my guess is he’s itching to start up again.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“There’s no guarantee the guy is even still around here,” Jo said as they finished filling Reese and Wyatt in on their interview with Menda three hours later. It was after five, and both of them were off shift but had stayed to get caught up on what had happened.
They were sitting around the squad room, Lucy at Sam’s feet. Major was in his spot on top of the filing cabinet watching them. All of them, with the possible exception of Major, were interested in keeping updated so they could think about the case in their off hours.
That was what Jo liked about their little police force. They were a tight group, a team, and the job wasn’t something you forgot about when you went home. She’d worked city stations before and found most cops clocked out when their shift was over and didn’t think about work until they came back the next day.
“He could’ve been caught in another state.” Sam glanced at Reese. “We should get a list of all serial killers arrested in the past five years.”
“Or he could be dead,” Jo suggested.
“My money is still on Thorne, at least for the meth lab,” Sam said.
“What did Menda say about that?”
“Claimed he didn’t know about it.”
“That could be true.” Reese held up her iPad to show a list of addresses. “I did some research on his past addresses. He’s never lived in this area.” She swiped right to a document. “Then I looked into his family. The grandfather was the CEO of a big company back in the day, and they are quite wealthy. Joseph Menda was a black sheep, though. He’s done a lot of bad stuff in his thirty-eight years.”
Jo was impressed. Reese was becoming increasingly more competent. She might make a great detective someday. Jo was impressed with Wyatt too. She hadn’t had a chance to work much with him, but it spoke volumes that he wasn’t acting put out that he’d had to handle many of the minor local calls while she and Sam worked the more interesting cases. She made a mental note to make sure they included Wyatt in their brainstorming sessions.
“I also got a list of his arrests and timeframes that he was on probation. According to the records, he was in Texas during the time our girls were killed. Unless his probation officer was lying for him, he wasn’t anywhere near here,” Reese said.
“So whoever killed these girls must be some kind of copycat, just like Menda suggested,” Wyatt said.
“Yeah, studying the greats.” Sam used air quotes around the word “greats.”
The thought turned Jo’s stomach. She’d heard of copycat serial killers in her years of studying them, of course, but the thought was still disturbing. Had Menda studied someone himself? It seemed likely.
But Menda couldn’t have taken her sister. He was too young. Tammy was taken twenty-eight years ago when Menda would’ve been only a child. Maybe it had been someone he studied. Was it possible that Menda could give her the clue her own research hadn’t uncovered?
“Like a disciple?” Wyatt asked.
“Thorne could be his disciple,” Sam said.
“Five years ago his construction was just starting up,” Jo said. “Maybe he killed those girls, then went dormant while he focused on building his business.”
“I requested copies of all the emails and letters Menda gets from the prison warden before we left,” Sam said. “We might find a clue in there.”
“What about Holden Joyce? He might have some additional information. I know there’s bad blood, but if it helps us solve the case…” Wyatt shrugged.
“Speaking of which.” Wyatt’s suggestion was a perfect opportunity for Jo to tell Sam about Holden’s visit, and Jo wanted to get that out in the open as soon as possible. She didn’t want any more secrets. “Holden st
opped by my place last night.”
“He did? Why?”
“To apologize. Weird, I know, but it seems like he really wants to work together.”
Reese glanced up from her iPad, her blue eyes dark with suspicion. “I think he’s up to something.”
“Probably. He said he got bad information before about us being on the take or something, and that’s why he was so suspicious. He realized his information was false and now he wants to make friends.”
“I don’t know if I fully trust him, but I did think he was sincere the last time he was here. And if cooperating with him means we keep someone from being killed, I’m all for it.” Sam scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Anyway, it’s late and we should all get some rest. Maybe we’ll find something in those emails and letters tomorrow.”
“I’ll tackle that job,” Wyatt volunteered. “I might be able to uncover something electronically.”
During the last case they’d discovered that Wyatt was pretty good with computer forensics. “That would be great. What you did with the Dupont case really helped.”
Smiling at the praise, Wyatt grabbed his backpack and stood. “I’ll still handle the local calls so you guys can focus on the bigger stuff.”
He left, and Reese put down a bowl of cat food for Major. Lucy trotted over to investigate, but the warning glare from the cat kept her at a cautious distance.
“Are you going to feed Lucy at home, Sam?” Reese asked.
Sam nodded. Lucy went home with Sam at night. He fed her supper and breakfast at home.
“Okay. See you tomorrow.” Reese left, and Jo shoved her laptop into its neoprene carrying case. She was just zipping it up when Sam’s phone dinged.
“It’s Mick. He says he has something interesting.” Sam looked up at her. “You want to swing by my place and find out what it is?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
