by Peg Brantley
“Come on girl, let’s get busy.” She gave Gretchen a gentle tug on the leash and they were off.
Less than fifteen minutes later Gretchen gave her first alert. She dropped to the ground and lay statue-still. Jamie flagged the stake with a yellow strip of cloth.
After patting Gretchen on the head and mumbling some words of appreciation she looked around at the immediate terrain. Flat. Little chance that ground water, or other elements, may have carried the scent away from the burial location. But the trees nearby were large and might be factors. She made a note in her log and sketched the site, eyeballing the approximate length of the longest branches of the nearest tree and writing the estimate in her log.
In the middle of her training Jamie had forgotten to take into account the drip line theory and had almost failed her first field test. It is possible for scent to be carried almost two times the length of the longest tree branch from the actual source. She’d failed to take that into consideration and her instructor had presented her with a handwritten bill for the cost of excavating the wrong site. She never neglected to pay attention to nearby trees again.
Urging Gretchen in a direction that led them outside of the lane, Jamie headed toward the trees to sink her probe. Some handlers preferred to wait until the lanes were cleared, then go back and check for source issues. She didn’t like to risk other finds, or overzealous law enforcement, to get in the way of systematically confirming or clearing as many alerts as possible.
“Hey! Dog person! What do you think you’re doing?”
Chapter Thirteen
Nick stormed across the field the way they’d come, careful not to disturb any of the stakes. What the hell does she think she’s doing? She and her death-dog are way out of the search parameters. It ticked him off that he had to spend valuable time and resources training this obviously incompetent female and her flesh-eating, canine partner.
His pace across the rocky meadow wrenched his aching back and he touched the bottle of oxy in his pocket without slowing. The pain didn’t match the anxiety. He needed this meadow to turn out to be the dumpsite for Bonzer’s victims. That necessity overshadowed every other event in his life up until this point. This search would define his career, and his future, more than anything else in his history with the bureau. And he needed to deal with a ditzy volunteer with a hairy carnivore that couldn’t be trusted off a leash.
“What are you doing? This is a lane search pattern, not a ‘Gee, that looks interesting over there’ pattern. Don’t you know anything?” He pulled up, suddenly aware of her space. He clearly, without hesitation, had invaded it, but he didn’t really care.
The woman stared at him and didn’t say a word. He could swear the dog snarled at him before turning its attention to its female handler and sitting on its haunches. Both the woman and the dog were looking at something over his shoulder.
He waited a beat before turning around to see for himself whatever they were focused on. When he did he saw the handler’s flag on a stake.
“You found something? What did you find? Why didn’t you signal me?”
“Do you generally go by Your Honor or Sire?”
A static-filled tension line connected her words to his head and pierced his brain. He touched the bottle in his pocket again. He snapped the tension line back in her direction. “I don’t have time for this. Do you even have the slightest idea what you’re doing?” He could give as good as he got. She might be irritated with him but she’d just have to get over it.
“Agent Grant, I don’t know how you treat other professionals you come into contact with, but I have to assume I’m not the exception. You need to get a good dose of manners from someone, and that doesn’t happen to be my job.”
Her eyes burned as if he’d ignited some incendiary device within her. It also caused her face to redden. He rather liked the effect and that fact surprised him.
“Pay attention, Agent. I’m only going to tell you this once. Gretchen alerted at the flagged stake.” The woman jabbed her finger in the air over his shoulder. “But there are other geographical elements to consider and I’m responsible for bringing them into the picture. That’s what I’m doing... or rather, that’s what I would be doing if I didn’t have to stop to explain my job to you. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll do that job. And honestly? I will only be able to do it to the best of my ability if you get out of the way.” She showed him her back and went to work with her probe, sinking it deep into the earth before pulling it back out. After each pull she scribbled something in her notebook.
Score one for the dog woman.
“I... I thought HRD dogs needed at least thirty minutes for scent to develop from a punch,” he said in what he considered a thoughtful, peace-making, pleasant tone.
“Not Gretchen. Five minutes tops. Excuse us, Agent, while we do our jobs.”
His charm didn’t result in its usual payoff so Nick retraced his earlier march. He reflected on the core strength, determination and intelligence he’d just witnessed. Jamie Taylor’s assets extended beyond her good looks.
He had some questions for Sheriff Jerry Coble. Like for example, did this Gretchen dog actually live with the flammable Jamie Taylor, or could it be possible that it might be kenneled elsewhere?
Nick caught up to the nearest deputy.
“Get back to that flag and work with the dog handler to determine the approximate perimeter of the gravesite, then set up for a grid search. Don’t touch anything other than set stakes. If Ms. Taylor confirms the alert I’ll get the ME out to the site.”
“She found something? I knew she would.” The deputy’s smile was quickly replaced by the blank mask all law enforcement professionals practiced.
“What makes you so confident she’d find something?” Nick appraised the man standing in front of him. He was a good decade younger than Jamie but that didn’t mean anything. Any man would be proud to be seen with her.
“You’re kidding, right?” The man didn’t try to hide his smile this time.
Nick stared at him in silence.
“Sorry. You must be new around here. If you want someone dead found, Jamie and Gretchen are your best bet. If you want someone alive found, you call Jamie and get her out with Socrates. And, if you just want someone to feel better, it’s Jamie and McKenzie.”
“Jamie and... are these all dogs?”
“Yep. She’s our very own Dog Whisperer.”
“Are they... are they all her dogs?” Nick felt his intrigue for the woman beginning to bow under the pressure of the reality of the four-legged creatures he loathed.
“Who else’s would they be?”
“Head on back to help the Dog Whisperer then, would you? Signal me when you know something. I don’t think Ms. Taylor is very eager to communicate with me again.”
“Jamie Taylor is a professional, Agent. She might not like you very much, but when it comes to getting answers for the families who are waiting, even if she hates your guts, she’s your man.”
The yellow strip of cloth flagging the stake had been replaced by a red one.
“There’s your answer. She’s confirming the alert,” the deputy said. “We’ve got ourselves a gravesite.”
Chapter Fourteen
While Nick waited for the ME to arrive he watched Jamie work the mountain meadow. In only a few minutes she had tied another red flag tied around a stake. She stopped frequently to give her dog some water. The animal took only a little. It looked to him like she talked to it, even put her face down close to it once. Did she just kiss a dog?
He thought about his earlier interest in the tall, slim woman with the fiery eyes and quick wit. Three dogs? Not gonna happen.
The deputy carefully strung a grid over the suspected grave. Nick couldn’t have done a better job himself. A few hours ago he had considered any unfounded biases against the local LE non-existent and his perceptions of their limitations accurate. He’d been wrong on both counts.
Nick pointed up the lane grid a little fa
rther toward another marked stake. “When you’re done there she’s got another one ready to go.”
He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number.
“I think we’ve found it. Get our forensic anthropologist up here from the Denver office. And email me the contact numbers of all the family members.” He watched as Jamie put a yellow flag around a stake and move out of the lane to check the geography. He couldn’t help but admire her tenacity and perfectionism.
“Damn straight I’m calling them. I’ll tell them it’s still tentative but I don’t think it’s false hope. They might need to adjust their schedules if they want to be here. It’s my decision and I’ve made it. Just get me the numbers.”
One number he didn’t need.
“Mrs. Archer, I have some news.”
When Susan Archer ran out of tears she told Nick she needed to hang up to book a flight and pack a bag. She would check with Liam’s doctor but only to confirm whether or not they needed to take additional precautions. No way would Liam Archer sit at home and wait, bad heart or not.
Nick tucked his cell phone away and watched a white van pull up next to his SUV. The driver turned off the engine, not caring that the vehicle was in the middle of the rutted road. A woman got out and seemed to be looking for someone. He walked over and introduced himself.
“I’m ASAC Nicolas Grant. You are?”
“I’m Dr. Jacqueline Taylor, the medical examiner.” She extended her hand to shake his. “I understand we have some burial sites that probably contain human remains. Is that correct?”
“The first one is right over there.” Nick gestured toward the grid-marked spot and waited while the ME grabbed her bag and a backboard from the back of the van.
Nick took the backboard from her and tucked it under his arm.
She smiled. “Lead the way.”
“Taylor, huh? Is that a common name in the area?”
“Common enough.”
“I guess you must know the dog handler then?”
“Uh-huh. That I do.”
Nick decided to let it go. After all, he wasn’t interested.
When they were next to the staked and strung area, Dr. Taylor set her bag down and pulled out a large white plastic sheet to spread over the backboard, which Nick had laid flat on the ground next to her. She drew on latex gloves and set a camera and notepad within reach. Then she laid out a common garden trowel, a hand whiskbroom, a toothbrush and several bamboo picks. Nick continued to feel better about the competency levels of the law enforcement personnel in this small mountain town by the minute.
“I called my assistant on my way here.” She glanced around at the red flags blooming like poppies in the meadow. “By the looks of things we’ll need all the help we can get.”
“I’ve requested the FBI’s forensic anthropologist from Denver too,” Nick said.
“Good. You might also call Griggs at UC Boulder. Their forensics program is one of the best in the country. A grad student or two might not hurt.” She placed a pad on the ground near the 1-1 grid square and reached for the trowel.
“It’s not worth the possibility of my site getting trampled, Doctor, but thanks for the suggestion.” Now that he found himself working with a professional that didn’t involve dogs, he felt a little magnanimous.
“It’s your show.” Jacqueline Taylor went to work.
The sun was high overhead when the ME finished with the first gravesite. Before moving any of the contents she’d carefully photographed everything as she unearthed it. The white plastic sheet covered with lightweight netting had been cataloged and photographed as well. Two deputies came and removed the backboard to the van. They would grab a second backboard for her, and then transport the remains of the next grave.
Dr. Taylor moved to the next flagged site.
Nick talked on the cell phone with his superiors for what seemed like hours. For a case that had collected a considerable amount of dust, this one suddenly found itself getting a lot of attention in both Virginia and Washington. Nick could picture the bureaucrats juggling for position. Someone would be able to pad their resume with his hard work. He couldn’t care less. He just wanted to wrap the case up, and he could count on the people who knew of his contributions and commitment to make due note.
In truth, he’d grown weary of thinking about Bonzer, and the weight of the families and their expectations had been bearing down on him for years. He would feel like a free man when he closed this one. He could finally move forward with his life.
During another phone call, right in the middle of some dweeb grilling him for details, Jacqueline Taylor stood up and put her hands on her hips. She looked around and spotted him, then waved her arms.
“Gotta go.” He ended the call and strode toward the doctor.
As he approached, she said, “I thought these grave sites were all at least ten years old.”
His intestines clenched. “That’s right. Bonzer was sentenced ten years ago.”
“This one hasn’t been here ten years, Agent. I’d say no more than six months.”
Chapter Fifteen
Over the next few hours Gretchen alerted for seven more gravesites. Jamie straightened up and stretched her back. Time for Gretchen to take a break, and I could use one myself. She wiped a thin trickle of sweat from her hairline where an insistent throbbing had set up shop. The additional secrets that lay hidden beneath tranquil beauty for years would have to wait a few minutes longer. A gentle breeze ruffled the Aspen leaves and swept the tops of the grasses and wild flowers. She called Coble and let him know they were taking ten minutes to rest, then led Gretchen out of the lane and into pools of shade and cool air. She reached into her pack and pulled out a water bottle with a drinking bowl snapped onto it. She poured some water for Gretchen then took a drink for herself.
The retriever never wanted to leave the job at hand, but Jamie could tell her dog felt a little overwhelmed at the moment. She hadn’t hit on this many scents since her training days.
“Come on, girl, let’s go see what Jax is up to.”
At the mention of Jacqueline’s name, Gretchen perked up and took a fresh look at her surroundings. Jamie didn’t need to lead her this time. To keep from contaminating the site, the two headed for the far side of the staked-out grave where Jax was bent to her work.
More official vehicles were parked on the narrow road that was little more than a pair of tire ruts. Tiny dust devils spun the loosened dirt then fell apart. The magnitude of the discovery hit Jamie for the first time. A lot of people were legitimately interested in the events in this meadow because their jobs demanded it. She just hoped they could keep the press away as long as possible.
Apparently the king of the FBI, Agent Grant, shared the same concern. She watched as he pointed down the road toward a deputy carrying yellow crime-scene tape. The three deputies who had been there early in the morning were joined by four others. They took three county vehicles with them as they pulled out to expand the previously established perimeter. A good move by the man with issues.
Jamie found a knee-high boulder to sit on. “How’s it going, Dr. Taylor?” Gretchen badly wanted some attention from Jax, but she remained a professional and sat down at Jamie’s feet. Only eager eyes and a swishing tail gave away her excitement.
“Hmm?” Jacqueline barely acknowledged their presence. She removed a small amount of dirt with the trowel, sifted it, then set to work with the hand-held whisk broom, her body rolled into a tight ball with only her right arm and neck extended.
Jamie cupped her hands around her mouth. “Ground control to Dr. Jax.”
Her sister’s head moved in her direction, but when Jax’s gaze met hers, they didn’t focus for the first second. “Oh, hi.”
“Oh, hi? That’s what you have to say? Oh, hi?” Jamie smiled.
“James,” Jax only called her James when she was deadly serious. “We have really stepped into it here.”
“What do you mean? We knew if we were lucky, we’d b
e unearthing the bodies of a lot of people whom much of the world abandoned a long time ago.” Jamie squeezed out an uneasy feeling and reached out to touch Gretchen’s head.
Jax sat back and rolled her shoulders. “That’s just it. We have new ones mingling with the old ones.”
“Oh my God... that explains why a couple of her hits were so quick. Gretchen alerted really fast on some.” Jamie folded her arms as if she were cold and her eyes scanned the meadow. “How many do you suppose there are?” A cloud passed over the sun and she shivered. Jamie looked at her dog, then back to her sister.
“If the old bodies and the new bodies were all victims of one killer, then Leopold Bonzer can’t be our guy. If the old bodies were Bonzer’s victims—” Jax shuddered and looked back at the gravesite.
Jamie finished the sentence. “Then we have two killers.”
“Either way we have a killer walking around Aspen Falls.”
Jamie and Jax stared at each other as they flashed back to their personal connection with murder. The memory of those nightmare days was never far away. Witnessing the quiet determination on their father’s face, the two young women had watched in silence ten years ago as their last remaining parent had packed two duffel bags and handed them the keys to the house.
His firm voice had touched them with the gentleness of a father to a child. “My attorney has taken care of all of the paperwork. Everything is yours. I’ll be in touch.” Then he leaned in close and drew them both in a hug. “I love you, but I’ve got to do this. I hope you’ll both understand one day.”
Jamie had followed him around the country for three months until he ambushed her in a bar and told her to go home. He wanted his daughter to be safe. He wanted his other daughter to stop seeing the guy in her life. He sent her home with both edicts.
