Don’t Tell A Soul: A gripping crime thriller that will have you hooked

by D. K. Hood

  Kane stared at the whiteboard. “We know both Woodward and Helms apparently left the county and suddenly had the desire to withdraw huge sums of money from ATMs in the same general area. We know Helms was tortured for a reason. If he gave up his PIN then it makes sense for his killer to withdraw money outside Black Rock Falls to give the appearance the victim had left the area. Before you ask, in the smaller towns the ATM cameras are useless. The pictures are grainy and in winter people are rugged up with hats and scarves.” He returned the marker to the magnetic holder. “We have the bank records, and if we can put Watts or any of our suspects in those locations at the same time, we have probable cause for an arrest—and for the record, Stan Clough is still firmly on my radar. The moment I discover his whereabouts, I’ll be on him like fleas on a dog.”

  “I’ll go and see the judge personally and get warrants for as many phone and GPS records as I can.” Alton’s lips curled up at the corners. “I’ll be safe at the courthouse unless I run into James Stone but I doubt he’d cause a scene in front of the judge.” Her blue gaze moved over him. “Great deduction, by the way, I feel like I’m working with Sherlock Holmes.”

  He followed Alton out the door, closing it behind him. Billy Watts sat on a chair in his booth, large hands clasped on his knees and his attention fixed on Sheriff Alton. Kane cleared his throat to get his attention then dropped into his chair. “Mr. Watts?”

  “Billy Watts.” The man leaned back in his chair, taking his measure. “Call me Billy.” His mouth curled in a cocky, self-assured grin. “My pa is Mr. Watts.” He stretched out long, muscular legs clad in tight jeans and rolled his shoulders. “I gather you are Deputy Sheriff Kane?” He chuckled. “How’s it feel being ordered around by a woman?”

  Kane composed his features to give him a long, bland stare then took a writing pad from the desk drawer and dropped it on the desk. “Much like being under the orders of a coach, I guess. I hear he has you on a tight curfew until the finals?”

  “Yeah, since the disagreement at the Cattleman’s Hotel.” Watts snorted. “Man, some people can overreact. There was no need to call the cops. It was a misunderstanding between friends and now we all have to pay.”

  “People have a right to enjoy themselves without being afraid of louts losing control and throwing punches.” Kane reached for a pen from the chipped coffee cup on his desk, admiring the picture of a beautiful hula dancer on a picturesque beach complete with palm trees. “You’re lucky Sheriff Alton let you off with a warning. I would have charged you with disturbing the peace.”

  “Yeah?” Watts leaned forward in his chair and glared at him. “So I gather you don’t support the Larks, or did you bet on the other team this week?” His dark eyes narrowed. “Charging any of us would have left the team without its pivotal players and we don’t like to lose.”

  Kane met his gaze without blinking. He had interviewed all types and only the stupid tried to intimidate him. He yawned and covered his mouth with one hand, noticing the man’s eye-roll. “Sorry. It’s been a long few days. Do you mind if we get down to the questions? What make and model of car you drive?”

  “Car? I own a Chrysler pickup.” Watts jerked a dirty thumb toward the front window. “The one with the black diamond paint and tinted windows out front.”

  “Okay.” Kane glanced at the glistening vehicle parked at the curb and jotted down the details. “Give me an account for your whereabouts on Friday night at around midnight.”

  “I was here in the cells.” He chuckled and crossed his cowboy boots at the ankles. “I spoke to you when they released me, on Saturday, remember?”

  “Sure, my mistake.” Kane stared at the sheet of paper. The enquiry had been a deliberate attempt to give him the impression the interview was a series of routine questions given to everyone. He lifted his gaze. “Do you know a person by the name of John Helms?”

  “No.” Billy Watts’ gaze remained steady.

  Kane kept his face expressionless. “Have you had an occasion to visit the landfill between Saturday and Monday?”

  “Yeah. I dropped off some garbage on Saturday morning and I went back on Monday but it had a closed sign hanging on the gate. Why are you asking me the same questions as Pete?” Agitated, Watts moved around in his chair. “I didn’t dump no body in a barrel, if that’s what you’re thinking. I dumped a carton of beer bottles on Saturday and I took them to the recycling area.”

  “Did you return home via Dutton Road?”

  “Yeah, it’s the way to my house.” Watts eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

  Kane wrote a few notes then met his gaze. “We’re investigating a shooting incident in the region of Dutton Road around seven thirty on Monday morning.” He leaned back in the chair and tapped the pen on the notepad. “Did you happen to see a vehicle parked in or on the road near the back of the landfill?”

  Billy Watts ran a hand through his thick blond hair and stared at the wall for some moments.

  “Yeah, now I come to think of it I did see a dark blue Ford pickup, an older model, parked in the trees.” He scratched his cheek and nodded. “Yeah, I noticed it on the way to the landfill and it was still there on the way back. I thought someone might be dumping garbage over the back fence.” Color pinked the tips of his ears. “I thought about doing the same thing but I spotted a police cruiser behind me.”

  “Okay.” Kane inclined his head. “Did you happen to see the driver of the pickup?”

  “Nah, I didn’t see anyone, just the vehicle.” Watts grinned. “I did see Deputy Walters’ ugly face in his cruiser. He came past me doing seventy.”

  “How do you know Sarah Woodward?” Kane twirled the pen in his fingers like a casino chip. “Where did you meet her?”

  “Sarah?” Watts raised both fair eyebrows to the hairline. “What’s Sarah got to do with the body in the barrel?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Like I said, I’ve got nothing to hide.” Watts cleared his throat and gave a dismissive shrug. “Sarah was here being questioned on Saturday morning. I made some comment or other to her outside about the way you guys harass everyone. That night she showed up at the restaurant in the Cattleman’s Hotel. The waiter seated her next to my table. I introduced myself and as we were both dining alone, I asked her to join me.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “Oh, this and that, mostly about hockey.” Watts grinned wolfishly. “She’d heard of me and we got on real well.”

  “I assume you escorted her to her car?”

  “No, she left alone. I followed a short time later and she called me over to tell me her car wouldn’t start.” He flicked Kane an annoyed glance. “Then you showed up and spoiled everything. I was ready to drive her home.”

  “Okay.” Kane noticed Watts’ relaxed posture. He doesn’t know she is dead. Dammit, another theory out the window. So much for being Sherlock Holmes. “Did Sarah mention her plans or where she was staying?”

  “She was looking for her grandma.” Watts huffed out a long sigh. “I know where she’s staying and about her missing grandma. I overheard you talking to her.”

  “Can you account for your movements on Monday after you left the landfill?”

  “Yeah, I went to the Larks ground and dumped my stuff in the bin.” He shrugged. “Then I called Dan, Dan Beal, and we went to Aunt Betty’s Café for coffee then hit the gym.”

  “What time was this and what gym?” Kane raised his pen.

  “The gym at Larks and it was about eight when we left Aunt Betty’s, I think. A couple of the players would have seen me there as well and the assistant coach, John Beenie. They’ll vouch for me.”

  Kane pushed the pad and pen toward him. “Jot down those names for me, will you, please?” He flicked a glance over the man’s hands, no injuries.

  “Sure.” Watts complied.

  “Do you have any objection to giving a DNA sample?” Kane watched him closely and got his feet under him in case Watts decided to run.

&nb
sp; “Oh shit.” Watts rubbed both hands down his face and peered at Kane through his fingers. “Has something happened to Sarah?”

  “I’m afraid Miss Woodward was involved in an incident yesterday morning.” Kane reached in his drawer for a DNA collection kit and placed it on the desk. “We’re eliminating everyone who met her. All I need is a swab of the inside of your mouth.”

  “Do I need a lawyer?” Watts had turned sheet white.

  Kane leaned forward and raised a brow. “That is up to you, Mr. Watts. As I said, I’m eliminating innocent people from a long list of suspects. If you have nothing to hide, do the test. It is voluntary but I can get a court order if necessary.”

  “I swear I didn’t touch her.” Watts stared at the sealed packet on the desk. “What happened, did somebody hurt her?” He scratched his cheek and grimaced. “I guess it’s bad if you need DNA samples?”

  “Like I said, she was involved in an incident and I am collecting DNA from people who met her recently.”

  “Okay, I’ll take the test.” Watts frowned. “Can you at least tell me if she is okay? She is a real nice girl—you know, gentle like.”

  “I’m sorry. I am unable to give out any information.” Kane pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and completed the test. He pushed a form toward Watts. “Sign here.”

  “What now?” Watts signed the form and rubbed his chin. “Am I free to go?”

  Noticing Alton entering her office, he waved her over then turned to Watts. “I’d like permission to search your vehicle.” Kane pushed to his feet. “Do you carry a rifle?”

  “Yeah.” Watts stood. “Search all you like, I have nothing to hide.”

  “Problem?” Alton strolled to his side and gave him a questioning stare.

  Kane shrugged. “Nah, Mr. Watts has agreed for a search of his vehicle. Would you mind observing?”

  “Sure.” Alton’s lips quirked into a satisfied smile and she turned toward the door.

  After dropping the DNA kit at the front counter for Maggie to send to the lab, Kane met Watts and Alton outside. He checked the car, took samples from the carpet, and inspected the rifle. Watts had not fired the weapon recently. He turned to Watts. “Thank you for your cooperation. You are free to go.”

  “Don’t leave town.” Alton waved a document under Watts’ nose. “I have a court order here to give me access to your cellphone and car GPS records.”

  “Do what you need to do.” Watts opened his car and climbed inside. “I didn’t hurt Sarah and I hope you find the asshole who did.” He started the engine and drove away.

  “He didn’t kill her, did he?” Alton’s mouth turned down.

  “Nope.” Kane followed her back inside the station. “Not if his alibis check out, and they will by the number of people on his list. He volunteered a DNA test as well but I doubt forensics find any DNA traces on either victim. Whoever murdered her knows how to destroy evidence. The bleach used in the bunkhouse would likely have obliterated any viable DNA. I blame the forensic shows on TV; before they came along, criminals seemed a whole lot easier to catch.” He sighed in frustration. “Damn, I thought Watts fit the puzzle.”

  “I’ll get Rowley to cross-match his GPS and cellphone with his statement before you cross him off the list.” Alton didn’t wait for his reply and strolled toward her office. “I think we should ask Rockford and his lawyer to come in for an interview.” She glanced at him over one shoulder. “Find Stan Clough.”

  Forty-Three

  “Sheriff Alton,” Maggie called out from behind the front desk, “I have that information you asked for.” She waved a piece of paper.

  Jenna smiled and strolled to the counter. “Thanks. Any problems?”

  “Not really.” Maggie raised her big brown eyes and sighed. “Informing relatives their loved ones have passed is very sad. I’m glad I took a course in grief management.” She let out a long sigh. “I’ve made notes against all the questions you told me to ask them. Only one problem: Sarah Woodward’s mother can’t travel and her uncle is coming to identify the body. He’ll be arriving in a day or two.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Jenna took the document and headed into her office.

  She sat down and scanned the page. Father Maguire had supplied the name of John Helms’s dentist, and she picked up the phone to contact the forensics department to pass on the information. She spoke to the person in charge, Brent Stanton. “I know it’s only been a short time but do you have anything yet?”

  “The first subject, the man in the barrel, is a Caucasian man in his late thirties, brown eyes, brown hair, five eight. The examination by your local man was complete. We’re currently classifying insects, soil, and vegetation samples embedded in the wounds, which would indicate the victim crawled on the ground and slept outside for a period of time. There are insects and what could be hay or straw fragments in the wounds and hair. Once these are identified, I’ll cross-match them to known species in your area. As luck would have it, we have a database of soil samples from many areas in Montana, so I’m hoping for a possible match. I would suggest his murder occurred in a barn. Apart from the soil and insects, there are signs of frostbite in the extremities.”

  “Could you let me know if the information from the dentist confirms a match for John Helms? He fits the description.” Jenna rested her forehead on the palm of one hand. “As far as we are aware, he went missing approximately three weeks ago. His local priest came in and filed a missing persons’ report. Is it too early to give me an approximate time of death?”

  “I would say the killer inflicted the injuries over a period of time, perhaps a week. There are signs of healing, although as you know, the fluid surrounding the body has washed away the DNA evidence. Although, rather than destroy the corpse, the mixture has preserved it to an extent. I would estimate the victim was placed in the solution no more than five to seven days before you found him.” He cleared his throat. “There are defensive wounds. The victim tried to shield his face from the attack.”

  Jenna scribbled notes on a writing pad. “I gather the body wasn’t in acid?”

  “No, I’ve sent a sample away for analysis but I’d say more like brine.”

  “Have you been able to identify the mark on his shoulder? Is it a tattoo?”

  “Fortunately, yes. After removing the top layer of skin, the mark showed up quite well. I’ll send you an image.”

  “Thank you. And Sarah Woodward?”

  “I’ll have a report for you in the morning. I can tell you the photography from the scene shows footprints and not the ones from your deputy. I’ve sent them for analysis. The killer or killers of Miss Woodward didn’t destroy all the evidence after all.”

  Killers? Jenna swallowed the lump rising in her throat. “Are you implying more than one person is involved?”

  “I can’t give you a definite answer until we have completed our investigation. The moment we do, I will send you a full report.”

  “Thank you.” Jenna disconnected and stared at the whiteboard in disbelief. What the hell is going on in this town?

  Mind reeling, she pushed her chair away from the desk and stood. She glanced at the clock then peered out into the main office. The place was quiet for a change; a few locals waited to speak to Magnolia on the front desk and Deputy Rowley sat in Kane’s booth chatting, no doubt briefing him on his chat with Susie Hartwig. She could slip out for a few minutes to grab a snack then head over to interview the real estate broker. Unable to go without informing Kane of her whereabouts, she strolled to his booth. Both men stopped talking immediately and she frowned at them then dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’ve had a verbal preliminary report from the forensics team. They are doing tests on fauna, et cetera, on the body in the barrel and think they might have found one or two sets of footprints at Sarah’s murder scene.”

  “Two?” Kane’s blue eyes filled with concern. “That throws a cog in the works but might gel with my theory about Rockford having followers
. I mean, think about the Manson cult—it happens.”

  “We can’t move forward until they finish the report.” Jenna sighed. “I want to be well away from the office when you interview Rockford so I’m going for lunch. If I haven’t heard back from Pete about Stan Clough’s address, I’m heading over to the real estate office to see if I can catch Mr. Davis.”

  “Okay.” Kane frowned. “Susie Hartwig says Rockford was with her until about ten. He doesn’t have an alibi for Friday night after all. I’m expecting him to come in for an interview at two with his lawyer. I have nothing on Clough’s residence yet either, Daniels came up with a blank and Davis hasn’t returned our calls. Do you think he believes he is respecting his client’s privacy by not informing us?” He pushed a hand through his dark hair. “As a parolee, Clough is obliged to inform his parole officer or local law enforcement officer of any change of residence. If you inform Davis you could charge him for withholding this information, I bet his memory becomes crystal clear.”

  “Good idea.” Jenna straightened her spine. She could deal with Mr. Davis.

  “If Josh Rockford’s lawyer is your stalker—” Kane’s lips formed a thin line “—do you want me to lean on Mr. Stone as well?”

  Jenna sighed. She had kept her distance from James Stone as much as possible. She would rather be locked in her office than sit in on the interview. No doubt, if she appeared to be in charge of the case against Rockford and the incident involving her, Stone would cry foul. “Keep Rowley with you and determine Rockford’s movements on Saturday and Monday as well. If you can get Stone alone, ask him as well to eliminate him from our enquiries. If you can use your influence in an unobtrusive way to keep him from pestering me, I would be more than happy. I’ll expect a full report when I return.”