Murder in the Dell

by Bert Entwistle

  “It does,” said Deacon, unlocking the door. “But I think this guy will be caught pretty soon.”

  “That what the FBI says?”

  “They don’t say much to me about anything.”

  “So you know something they don’t?”

  “Not exactly, I just have a hunch is all. This guy can’t go on forever killing like this without tipping his hand. He’s had a good run up till now.”

  “I hope you’re right about that.”

  Deacon pulled a black case down from the shelf and opened it up. “They’re two Nikons in here. One with a wide lens and one with a close-up lens. Everything you should need is here,” said Deacon. “You know how to use all this stuff?”

  “No problem, I’ll test everything tonight. You gonna tell me what I’ll be watching?”

  “Call me tomorrow and let me know that everything works. I’ll have a target for you then.”

  “I’ll call around nine, that okay?”

  “Fine. Be sure your car has gas, you might end up following someone.”

  “I’ll be ready Deacon, you can count on me.”

  “One more thing Curt, and this is between you and me only, absolutely nobody else knows about this — understand?”

  “Loud and clear, no problem.”

  Deacon was surprised to see Felix and agent Anders waiting for him when he parked his car. Walking to the office door, they followed him inside. “Morning. What brings the FBI’s best out to see me today?”

  “I need to touch bases with you about our operation’s plans.”

  “You mean you need my help with something?”

  “No,” said Felix. “I am giving you notice that I want you to stay away from the Crawford farm until otherwise notified.”

  “I think you already made that loud and clear — several times as I recall.”

  “No, I mean that I want no law enforcement, not you or anyone else, within two miles of the farms fences. We clear on that?”

  “Sounds like you’ve got this one just about wrapped up.”

  “You know I can’t tell you any more, just stay away until we give the all clear.”

  “Whatever you need Felix. I have plenty to do here, with all these parking tickets and such.”

  Barnhart ignored the dig. “Special Agent Anders does have some information for you about the severed arm.”

  Anders opened his file. “I have covered every possible lead and thread there is. We have found no sign of a missing body part or of a missing girl with nails painted like the arm that was found. We are operating on the presumption that it is associated with the serial case. That’s all I have to share.”

  “Felix, you’re really convinced that Crawford is the killer?” asked Deacon.

  “Take away from this whatever you want, we have to get back to work. Stay away from the farm.”

  “No problem, me and my people won’t go anywhere near the farm, you have my word on that.”

  “I’ll let you know when it’s all over,” said Felix, as they left the office.

  “Damn it’s good to see him again,” said Deacon. “I sure hope he gets his man pretty soon, I’m getting very tired of the FBI nosing around in little old Bayfield County.”

  Angie stared at him for a minute. “Give it a rest Davis. I know you’re up to something. You gonna tell me what it is, or will I have to force it out of you?”

  “I told you, I just have a small-town sheriff’s hunch, but I don’t have all the pieces — at least not yet. I need to turn the hunch into evidence. Whatever the case may be, I don’t think it will be much longer, one way or the other.”

  Clicking off the phone, Deacon headed through the trees to the Sorenson place. Pulling up, he saw him shooting pictures of the trees. Deacon nodded. “Curt, so everything looks good?”

  “Ready to go, these cameras take great photos, a lot better than the one I used to have.”

  Deacon pulled out a satellite photograph and spread it out on the table. They spent the next hour going over how to cover the property thoroughly. They found places to watch from and a good place for Curt to conceal his car.

  “In particular, I want pictures of all cars coming or going from the property, including at night. Shoot all the people you see try for good face shots when you can.”

  “No problem. There’s just one thing . . .”

  “What’s that?”

  “Can I borrow a few bucks to fill up the car?”

  “Shit, you should have said something earlier. I forgot about paying you the last time.” Taking out a hundred he pushed it down in Curt’s shirt pocket. “When you’re done with this surveillance, we’ll talk about you getting you paid on a regular basis.”

  “Much appreciated. You want me to bring the camera disks by the office every day?”

  “We’ll meet at the diner at six in the morning as soon as it opens. That way, I’ll buy you breakfast and you can go over what you saw the night before.”

  “I’ll see you then, anything else?”

  Deacon shook his head. “Just stay well concealed is all.”

  Walking into the war room, Deacon sat down and spent a few minutes looking over new satellite photographs. “Vince, did you talk to the trash company about service at the Crawford farm?”

  “Yeah. They were good enough to go way back in their files for me. They have no record of ever supplying trash or recycle services for them.”

  “Did you check and see if there were any other services that operated in the area before them? Maybe they had the account with someone else.”

  “Yeah, I did. Northway has been the only provider to this part of the county for almost thirty years.”

  “These pictures look good, no clouds to obscure anything.”

  Vince nodded. “You’re right boss, they’re tack clear, but why did you want them? They don’t show the Crawford farm.”

  “No, they don’t. I need you to verify one more thing for me. If it checks out, I’ll bring everyone up to speed on the whole thing.”

  “What is it?”

  “Check on this name,” said Deacon, “That’s your sole job at the moment. This is extremely important, stay on it until you have exhausted every possible lead.”

  “I’ll start right now,” said Vince, opening his laptop.

  “And like everything else lately, this is only between you and me.”

  “Got it boss.”

  Deacon sprinted through the rain and into the diner. Curt came in a minute later. “You look like a couple of drowned rabbits,” said the waitress.

  “I don’t know what made me do it,” said Deacon. “I should have stayed home and had a bowl of corn flakes.”

  “I don’t know why either, I don’t even eat here myself,” said the waitress. “I really think you just have a thing for me, Deacon.”

  “Could be. Or it might be you’re the only restaurant in the town?”

  “No, it’s me. When you get rid of that tall, skinny woman you’re with, I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

  Deacon nodded and grinned. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to remember that. You ready to take our order now?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose if I have to.”

  After the breakfast, Curt pulled out a memory card and handed it to him. “It was pretty quiet around there. Nothing much happening day or night.”

  “Did you notice anyone coming or going? Any white cars maybe?”

  Sorenson shook his head. “Absolutely nothing. The lights in the house stayed on till about eleven or so, but after that, nothing.”

  “Okay, why don’t you go get a little rest, then head back there this afternoon.”

  “Will do. Same time tomorrow?”

  Deacon nodded and threw a twenty on the table. In the office, he plugged the card into his desktop. Going through the photographs, he found nothing but static pictures of the house and the surrounding grounds. Digging through the case files again, he worked on his second pot of coffee, and his gum wrappers littered the
floor. After several hours he went to the restroom, washed his face and hands and combed his hair. Returning to the war room he began to put all the files and photographs back into the correct folders, filed them in boxes and stacked them up in a corner. Then he wiped down the table, cleaned up the wrappers, emptied the trash and sat down.

  Watching all this from her desk, Angie finally walked in and sat down across from him. “Okay Deacon, I can’t take much more of this, you’re starting to freak me out. You’ve spent hundreds of hours going over these files and photos and now you just box them up and put them away like they’re nothing — so talk.”

  “I am waiting on two last pieces of information. If they prove out to be what I think they are, then I believe we can solve this thing. But I won’t know for sure if I have a case until I can confirm them.”

  “Deacon, when will you have these last, mysterious, pieces of information?”

  “Soon, maybe even tomorrow.”

  Curt was already waiting for him when he walked in. Ordering coffee and a short stack, they made small talk while they ate. “So anything new last night?” asked Deacon.

  “Still pretty boring, I did get a couple of shots of a white car though.”

  “A white car? Was it a four door?”

  “Yeah. It came from the back of the house and left, and then it came back about half an hour later.”

  “Fantastic work Curt, you don’t know how much you’ve helped this case.”

  “I’m glad it worked out, I also got a good shot of the tag on it.”

  “Even better. You can drop the surveillance now. I’ll let you know if we need to do it again.”

  “Anything else I can do?”

  “Maybe,” said Deacon, handing him several hundred dollar bills. “Just hang in there for a while longer, okay?”

  “Thanks, call me if you need anything.”

  Walking into the office, Austin and Vince were both in the war room working on paperwork. Deacon called in Angie and closed the door behind her. “I know that I have been acting pretty secretive lately, but I didn’t want to take a chance that I might be wrong about this and falsely accuse an innocent person of something they didn’t do.”

  Plugging in the thumb drive, they found a clear picture of a white, four-door sedan leaving the property. The back plate was clearly visible. “Vince, run this plate and see who it belongs to.”

  Enlarging the picture, everyone got quiet. Comparing the photo of the car to the stock photo on the screen. “Damn, that’s it! That’s a white, 2015 Hyundai, four door sedan, how about that shit!” said Deacon.

  “That’s the first piece of information we needed. Vince, you got the information on that name I gave you?”

  Vince nodded. Right here in this folder boss, I think you’re gonna like it too.”

  “Did you get a picture with the name too?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Then don’t keep us in suspense any longer, let’s have a look.”

  Opening the folder, an 8x10 color photo slid out.

  “No doubt about it boss, that’s definitely her.”

  “Okay, let me go over everything one more time tonight, then we’ll meet here in the morning and we’ll figure out the best way to handle it.”

  After going over all the evidence, the team all agreed they had a strong case. “Angie, give Jack Hines a call and ask him to come over, I need him to get us the warrant and bless this operation before we go.”

  Austin looked at the picture of the girl and shook his head. “Damn. This is nearly impossible to believe. I mean I’ve known the guy most of my life.”

  “So have I, so does the whole county for that matter,” said Deacon. “He’s lived here forever, and nobody would ever have suspected him of anything like this.”

  Angie walked back in the room. “Jack is on his way. Are you going to call Felix?”

  “Felix? Hell no! Why would I bring him in on this? Even with all this evidence he couldn’t solve it. Make that a big hell no!”

  Jackson Hines dropped down in the chair next to Deacon. “Thanks for coming right away Jack,” said Deacon, “I appreciate it. Did Angie tell you what’s going on?”

  “All she said is that it was important — so here I am.”

  Deacon laid out the case for Hines. “The unknown girl, number three, the one we have been calling Laura, she’s been identified and the car is a match for the model in the bar video. That’s what clinched it for me.”

  “Deacon, you’ve done a hell of a job putting this case together, I’m sure we have enough evidence to do this. I’ll go talk to Judge Butler and see if he agrees.”

  “You don’t think there will be a problem, do you?”

  “We’ll see, you never really know about any judge.”

  An hour later Hines came back into the office with the judge right behind him. “Judge Butler may have a few questions about this,” said Hines. “Bring him up to speed on the facts.”

  Reading the request and looking at the evidence, the judge could hardly believe what he saw. “I have known this man my entire life,” said Butler. “Our fathers were great friends and fished and hunted together for years. Deacon, I have only one question. Is there even the slightest chance that any of your evidence could be bad? If I give the okay for this warrant and the case is not rock solid, I will make your life a living hell — are we clear?”

  “Absolutely clear judge, I personally guarantee every piece of it is accurate,” said Deacon.

  Butler pulled out a pen and picked up the warrant. Looking around the room at the evidence display one more time, he signed it. “You better be right Deacon, you damn well better be right.”

  Chapter 20

  Deacon gave last minute instructions to Austin and Vince. They suited up with protective vests and checked their pistols one last time. Austin and Vince also carried shotguns. There were three entrances to be covered. “I’ll go in the side door, it’s generally unlocked during the day. I don’t think he’ll try and run, but if he does, the one alongside the garage door is the closest exit. Vince you start by covering that one. Austin, you go in the front door, if you happen to encounter him, you know what to do.”

  “Baffle him with bullshit till you get there?”

  Deacon nodded. “Exactly. If he doesn’t buy it, or you think he’s figured out what’s going on, take him down — same for you Vince. But if he’s where I expect him to be, I’ll key my mic three times to let you know to move in. You ready?”

  Both men nodded.

  “Then let’s do it.”

  Walking through the hallway, he stopped in a doorway and looked inside the room. Doctor Baker was standing in front of a microscope with his usual classical music playing in the background. Looking up, the old man was obviously startled. “Goddamn you Davis, you scared the crap out of me — again. What the hell are you here for now?”

  Walking slowly toward him with his gun at his side and his finger on the trigger, he keyed his mike three times. “Robert Lee Baker, I need you to show me your hands — right now.”

  “I said, what the hell are you here for?”

  “No more bullshit . . . we both know why I’m here, show me your hands — right now!” Deacon raised his gun and pointed it at the center of his chest.

  Slowly raising his hands, he looked around the room. “You alone Davis? Where are your deputies?”

  “Right here,” said Vince, standing in the lab doorway.

  “And here,” said Austin, from the office door. Both had their shotguns pointed squarely at the old man.

  “Three big strong policemen to arrest one skinny, seventy-one-year-old man? Sounds like a little overkill to me. So now what Davis — interrogation? Are you going to beat me with a rubber hose? Maybe hook up a couple of electric wires to my nipples? I hear water boarding is all the rage right now . . .”

  “Sorry, but I left all my torture tools at the office. Pull up a stool, sit down and put your hands on the table, palms down,” said Deacon, turn
ing on his recorder.

  “Damn Davis, just when I thought we were becoming best friends — but I guess that’s over now.”

  “We have a warrant for your arrest on multiple murder charges and the DA is adding kidnapping and other charges as we speak.”

  “How exciting for you Davis, you think you caught a bad guy . . .”

  “Robert Lee Baker, you are under arrest for the murders of Carly Elizabeth Russell and Jessica Leanne Roth. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense. Do you understand these rights as I have stated them?”

  “Very good Davis, you sound just like a cop on Law and Order.”

  “I asked you if you understood these rights as I stated them.”

  “Yes Davis, I understand them.” Baker sat quietly for a minute. “May I take off my lab coat and gloves?”

  “Go ahead,” said Deacon, with his gun still pointing at his chest.

  “You can put the gun away, I can’t go anywhere, your men have all the exits covered.”

  “Austin, did you get all of that on video?”

  “Got it all boss, clear as a bell.”

  “Put these on,” said Deacon, sliding a pair of cuffs across the table to him.

  Baker made a scene of snapping on the cuffs and showing everyone he had them on. “Happy Davis? Can I have a drink of water?”

  “Austin, Vince, pat him down and put on the belly chain. Then take him to the jail and keep him in your sight all the time, I’ll be right behind you.”

  Deacon walked through the room, trying to imagine what it must have been like to spend your life as an undertaker and a medical examiner. The number of bodies that have come through this place must be huge. All of the dead girls were brought here and most of the loved ones of Bayfield County families were prepared for their funerals in this very place.

  Walking through every room in the mortuary, he stepped into a small storeroom and looked at the neatly stacked supplies on wooden shelves. Staring at the shelf, the final puzzle piece suddenly fell into place. “Son of a bitch . . .”