by Kylie Brant
Escaping out the kitchen door to the porch had the inner noise quieting somewhat. He blinked in the weakening sunlight. It was easier to think here. Easier to pluck out the single thread running through his brain and make sense of it.
You can’t stay here. Mommy’s voice rang clear as a bell against the muted interior din. You’re not safe. You can’t stay here.
Relief filled him. Of course. Sonny laughed out loud, uncaring that the sound made the girl walking her dog on the sidewalk hurry past the house. Mommy was right. His photo had been on TV. And although he looked different now, he needed to get away. He needed time to plan.
He needed quiet. The kind of quiet he’d had in Lucy Benally’s house. Where he’d been safe and the silence had soothed the racket in his head to a dull murmur.
Sonny braced himself and then went back inside. He had to gather the things he’d need because he wasn’t ever coming back. Some clothes and toiletries. His laptop. The equipment he used to move through the night unseen. To get in and out of places unsuspected. He still had some time, he knew. His name hadn’t been on TV, only a sketch. He had time to gather what he wanted and place it in the trunk of old lady Moxley’s car.
The plan of action soothed the noise the way nothing else could. Soon. Soon he’d go for Lucy.
She’d help him find the quiet.
Chapter 11
Cam and Sophie arrived at the river in time to see a soil-stained lifeless body lying on a sheet beside the open grave. It was, he thought, as he helped Sophie down the rocky ridge, a macabre sight that was becoming all too familiar. Franks saw them coming and approached.
“You want the good news or the bad news?”
“There’s good news for a change?” He looked toward the cluster of people surrounding the body. “Let’s hear it.”
“This victim was wearing some sort of bracelet with writing on it. Maybe when it gets cleaned up it’ll point us in a new direction.”
That was a big if, but at this point in the investigation Cam would take it. “Give me the rest.”
Tommy had taken off his suit coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. His tie was nowhere in sight. Cam didn’t blame him. The day had been warm and standing outside most of the afternoon would have been punishing. “The bad news is the dive team is ready to call it a day soon. They’re getting into deeper water and it’s churning up pretty good. Makes for poor visibility.”
Cam squinted into the distance. He could the see the skiffs on the water. Make out a tall lanky form a couple hundred yards away on the shore. A dog in a boat barked excitedly.
“Okay. Maybe there’s nothing there to be found.”
“You ready for worse news?”
Cam arrowed a look at the older man. “Sort of buried the headline, huh?”
Franks’ smile was grim. “Dig crew thinks there’s another body directly below the one they just took out.”
“Fuck.” Frustration roiled inside him at a seething boil. He placed his balled up fists on his hips. “When does the hell does this end?” He barely felt Sophie’s hand on his arm.
“It ends here. Vance is in jail. His accomplice is on the run. This is just closure for their victims.”
His jaw clenched. He saw something else in Tommy’s expression. “Don’t tell me. There’s a ‘worser’?
The other agent mopped the perspiration from the back of his neck with his palm, then wiped it on his pant leg. From the looks of his pants, it was an action that had been repeated frequently throughout the day. “Just that the media you must have passed on your way in showed up forty-five minutes ago and it’s just a matter of time…”
Cam got the message. Pulling out his cell he put in a call to the Dallas County sheriff. After a terse conversation, they agreed the sheriff’s office and DNR would supply additional manpower keep gawkers away. Some of the officers would be in boats. Then he moved several feet away to call Gonzalez, steeling himself for her reaction. It wasn’t long coming.
“This is a PR nightmare,” she said heatedly. “We need to make this thing go away and fast. How close are you to an arrest?”
“Tips are still coming in on the door to door search.” Cam shaded his eyes, looked out over the water. Someone in a boat was waving an arm. The handler on shore, Roberts, started jogging Cam’s way, a radio lifted to his lips and dog at his side. “Something’s breaking. I’ll call you back. You should know that we’ve got media camped out here. Do you want a statement made?”
“Absolutely not.” The woman’s tone was emphatic. “MCU Assistant Director Miller wants every announcement cleared through his office.”
“Fine with me. I’ll get back to you.” Cam rounded the ridge that enclosed the cave and headed to meet Roberts. Sophie and Franks were at his side.
“Diver thinks he’s seen something.” George Roberts turned to point at one of the boats. “Sonar showed what he thought was a fallen tree but once he touched it…might be some sort of bag.”
* * * *
Cam knelt alongside a criminalist in front of the long black bag resting on the grassy shore. George Roberts dug a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Sophia. Gratefully she took it and held it ready. The evidence team, which had been on site at the dig, had finished photographing, measuring and swabbing. The bag had been heavy and unwieldy. Cam and Franks had joined the search and rescue team to help lift the bag into the boat. It had taken four of them to unload it once they got to shore.
She still held out hope that the bag held…something else. Car parts. Illicit waste. Cam and the evidence tech were clad in Tyvek suits and headgear in case of just that eventuality.
But in her heart she knew what they’d find inside.
As Cam drew back the zipper with two glove-clad fingers, she pressed the handkerchief over her nose, gaze glued to the action. Despite half expecting it, the sight of a gleaming white skull was a shock to the system. The handkerchief didn’t quite mask the horrendous odor of formaldehyde and decomposition that escaped as it was unzipped.
Sophie moved back a step, tried to breathe shallowly. The skeleton was not fully complete. And some of the bones were covered with a white waxy substance. Adipocere, she realized. Caused by the breakdown of soft tissue in the body. She wondered if the foundation bricks that had been put in the bag had jarred some of the bones loose over time, or whether the river’s movement had accomplished that act on its own.
Cam rose and moved away as a criminalist leaned forward with a large set of tweezers and a magnifying glass. He took off his hood and unzipped the suit far enough to pull out his phone and started calling numbers. Sophia watched the criminalist work as Cam alerted the ME’s office and the crime lab that a new rotation of personnel would be needed.
Something about the skull, with its empty eye sockets seemed forlorn. Even sadder than the gut-wrenching site of the bodies extracted from the mass grave. Sophia decided it was because the watery burial was even more cavalier than the burial. Callous. Casual. Quickly disposed of, the victim simply ceased to exist for the offender.
Shaken, she moved away, looked out over the river where other law enforcement personnel had collected in boats to keep onlookers away. And looking at the slow lazy current of the water, she wondered what other macabre secrets the Raccoon River had hidden in its depths.
* * * *
“I can drop you at home.” A muscle jumped in Cam’s jaw. His voice was terse. “Micki Loring can meet us there. Gonzalez and Miller want some input before they hold a news conference about the river site.” As much as he wasn’t looking forward to the upcoming conversation, he didn’t envy the two their PR task.
“I’ll hang around if that’s all right. I want to polish the offender profile and type up my observations from the Klaussen interview. And, if the opportunity arises, eat.”
It occurred to him that neither of them had eaten since breakfast that morning. He turned into the next drive through, ignoring Sophie’s wrinkled up nose and ordered for both of them.
“Grease,” she said unenthusiastically when he handed her a bag.
“Right off the food pyramid,” Cam said solemnly. Peeling the wrapper off his burger, he drove and ate at the same time. “I’d give a lot to know how long that body has been in the water.”
“We can’t even be sure it’s female yet.” But her protest was half-hearted. They both knew the victim was associated with the crime they were investigating. Given the proximity to the grave there was little doubt that a connection existed.
“Tony Bower, the criminalist verified the sex.” The man had done a couple simple measurements of the pelvis and determined that much. But any further information would come from the ME’s office. And Gavin Connerly, the consulting forensic anthropologist.
“It’s the first of the bodies at the site to have completely skeletonized. It smelled as though it had been embalmed, though. I wonder if the offender…”
Sophie broke off as Cam’s cell rang. With an apologetic look he answered it.
Beachum’s voice filled the line. “So we’re checking out a call that came in on the tip line. Guy named Lou Vetter claims the sketch looks just like his next-door neighbor. Unfortunately he can’t be sure what the neighbor’s name is. Could be Scott. Sawyer. Maybe Steve.” The agent mimicked the man’s voice. “Definitely begins with an S. And the last name…starts with a B he thinks. Becker, Baxter, Banner... We’ve tried the neighbor’s door. No luck. Tried the neighbor to the other side, who Vetter claims is an old lady who never goes anywhere. No answer there either. I’d file this in the big-waste-of-time folder, but thought I should double-check on the name. I checked the list of former funeral home employees. Have a couple possibilities there. A Sean Becker and a Sonny Baxter. Vetter swears that’s the name.”
“Which one?”
“Either. Both. I think the guy fried a few too many brain cells somewhere along the line. The utility lead is out. According to Vetter all the properties in the area are rentals and utilities are included. He knows this because he looked at the house next door before deciding on the castle he currently resides in.”
“Landlord?”
“Got a name and number but he’s not answering his phone.”
It was exactly the sort of circular tip-that-wasn’t-actually-a-lead that gave tip lines a bad name. Cam timed the next light and cruised through right before it turned yellow. “I’m guessing there’s some reason for this call. What’s the address?”
The other agent read it off, adding unnecessarily, “That’s Riverbend neighborhood. Less than two miles from the Pinter’s our guy was sighted at.”
Interest flickered. Cam shot Sophie a look. From her expression she was following the conversation. “That better not be the same guy I chased down last night.”
“Entirely possible. The justice system these days is a sad state of affairs.”
Sophie pulled out her cell phone and checked a note stashed in her purse for a number. She quickly dialed it. He mouthed, “Fedorowicz?” She nodded. Spoke quietly into the phone.
“Give us a minute to check something. While we wait I can give you an update.” Cam gave him a rapid rundown of the day’s events.
“Holy shit. When we switch assignments tomorrow that’s the job I want. Pulling bodies out of graves, out of the river…wait a minute. How do you smell?”
“You don’t want to know,” Cam responded wryly. Sophie ended her call so he added, “Hang on,” and looked at her expectantly.
“After Mr. Fedorowicz went through the files, he made a list for us. There’s a Sonny Baxter on it.”
A hard fist of satisfaction balled in Cam’s chest. “Maybe. Maybe this is it.”
“There’s more. The man said he’d always had a soft spot for the boy because he’d been horribly abused. Even took him shooting several times so he’d know how to defend himself. And…” She paused a beat. “Records his wife kept shows he had a job cleaning up in Foster’s Funeral home.”
“Worth checking out.” His gaze met hers.
“Definitely worth checking out.”
He spoke to Beachum again. “We’re on our way. Keep trying the landlord. Talk to other neighbors on the street. I want verification of the occupant before I request a warrant. Preferably from someone in possession of all his brain cells.”
“You got it.”
At the first opportunity Cam turned and headed toward the address Beachum had read off. There had been far too many twists in this case, but they were due for a break. He was hoping this was it. He reached for his phone again.
“Who are you calling now?”
His mouth quirked. “Gonzalez. She and Miller are going to have to work on that press conference without me.”
* * * *
Sonny peered interestedly between the slats of the blinds at Moxley’s front window. The old bat always had them closed. None of the houses on the street had air conditioning. The house felt closed up and stuffy. But the noise wasn’t as bad here. The buzzing had subsided a little. Enough to hear Mommy’s voice, as clear and sharp as if she were standing next to him. You need to leave. You’re not safe here.
“I’m all right in here, Mommy,” he murmured absently. “Moxley’s dead. Just like you.”
The two men in suits who had been on his porch, on this porch, ringing doorbells got out of their car again and started across the street. “Cops, Mommy.” Sonny could tell. The way they dressed, the car they drove. He recognized it all. Knew there would be guns beneath the suit coats they wore in eighty-five degree temperatures. He watched as they split up and started knocking at houses across the street. When a woman answered at one of the doors, Sonny felt a niggle of worry. Maybe he’d waited too long before leaving.
He brought the gun in his hand up to the window and pointed it at the man standing on the porch directly across the street from here. Nothing was going to keep him from Lucy.
Nothing.
* * * *
“You sure about that, ma’am?”
“Positive. I don’t know his name. Sorry.” The young woman sent an apologetic look at Agent Beachum. “I really never talked to him. This isn’t exactly that kind of neighborhood. But I saw him every once in a while.” The drooling toddler she held yanked a strand of her dark hair and she freed it from his grubby hands without missing a beat. “He drives this sort of grayish blue sedan…”
Her mouth dropped when Cam pulled out his phone and brought up a picture of the car the offender had been seen getting into at Pinter’s. “That’s it! How did you…” Amazement was chased away by worry. “Why are you looking for him? Is he dangerous?” She gave a nervous laugh, but hugged the toddler closer.
“You’re not in any danger,” Cam assured her. If she’d caught the UNSUB’s eye before now, she probably wouldn’t be standing here. “You never saw this sketch on TV before now?”
She looked at him blankly. “I only watch cable.”
Cable. There was almost no furniture in the rooms he could glimpse inside, so she obviously had different priorities. He shook his head a little. “Okay. I want you to lock your doors and stay inside for the rest of the evening. All right?”
She looked from one agent to another. Paused when she got to Sophie’s face. What she saw there seemed to convince her. The woman started swinging the door shut. “I will. Promise.”
The four of them turned and descended her cracked concrete steps. “More believable than Vetter, right?” Beachum drawled.
“Much more believable than Vetter,” Cam agreed. He strode back to his car at a fast pace. Unlocked it. Reached for his laptop in the back seat.
“So now we get our search warrant?”
“Now we get our search warrant.”
* * * *
Thirty minutes later Cam and Beachum climbed the side porch of the offender’s house, checking the exits. Although the front door was locked, the side door was not. It would be their point of entry.
The properties on this side of the street were near replicas of each
other. All had a smear of grass bordering the pocked sidewalk, with handkerchief-sized back yards facing an alley. The detached garages were accessed from the alley. The one belonging to the offender boasted a new electric overhead door. The windows on both sides of the structure had been boarded over.
Cam had summoned a DCMD unit to assist with the search and had the squad car blocking the exit of the garage. If the UNSUB was hiding inside the structure, he’d be trapped.
With his attention on the house, Cam reached out to pull the screen open silently. Waiting for the other agent to crowd inside it before turning the knob of the door.
“DCI!” They burst inside, sweeping the area around the door. Cleared the room. Approached the next, one on either side of the wide doorway. “Anyone inside, out here now, now! Hands in the air.”
There wasn’t a sound. It was quiet. Much too quiet. Cam caught the other agent’s eye. Jerked his head toward the closed coat closet just inside the front door. Together they walked toward it. Paused.
Beachum yanked the door open. Cam covered the area. It was empty. Completely empty. No clothes hung inside it. No shoes were on the floor. He took the time to unlock the front entry for Samuels before heading toward the hallway. But instinct told him the effort was wasted. The emptiness almost echoed.
The tiny bathroom and two bedrooms were cleared. He sent Beachum to search the garage with the officers waiting outside it. Walking into the kitchen Cam looked at the narrow door next to the stove. It had a latch and fresh padlock on it. He waved the other agent away and leveled his weapon. The bullet shattered the padlock and splintered the wood behind it. “Get my back.”
He turned on the switch just inside the door and shouted again, “DCI! Hands in the air. Walk toward the stairway slowly.”
