by C. M. Sutter
Kate scanned the space. “Shotgun and long rifle shells. Nothing that matches the gun Brian Cox is known to have.”
We continued on. “Keep your eyes open for notes about Brian’s plan. The most logical place to take Trish would be somewhere that’s familiar to him. Look for photos of Brian and Mark together during their fishing or hunting trips. Maybe there will be a sign or a landmark in the background that will give away the location.”
We spent the next three hours searching bedrooms, the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room, and the dining room. We looked through photo albums, spiral notebooks, and scratch pads as well as in the desk drawer, kitchen junk drawer, and under the couch cushion and bedroom mattresses. Plenty of hand-scratched notes were lying around but nothing related to Brian or his intentions. Silver called us back into the living room. He was sitting on the couch with four empty picture frames at his side. The backs had been pulled off each frame. Silver was sorting the photos.
“Smart thinking, Aaron. Most everyone puts new pictures in front of old ones.” I took a seat next to him on the couch. “What have you got?”
“This one caught my eye, although I don’t know what Brian Cox looks like other than hearing his description.” He pointed at the outdoor photo of two men clanking beer cans on a porch of what looked to be a log cabin. A lake, with a rowboat turned upside-down on the shore, was a good hundred feet behind the dwelling. The setting appeared remote with plenty of pine trees surrounding the lake.
“It sure is beautiful, but there isn’t anything that would tell us the location, not even a house number on the cabin. I haven’t seen a photo of Brian yet, but I’m sure Clayton and Billings will find plenty of them. Let’s take this picture back with us. I’d bet my bottom dollar it’s him in this photo clanking beer cans with Mark. My question is, who’s taking the picture?”
Kate checked the time. “It’s after two o’clock. Let’s grab a late lunch and see if the guys need help. There’s probably a lot more evidence at Brian’s house. We haven’t found anything useful here.”
Silver passed on the lunch offer and left the property first. He said he was going back to his patrol duties and had a soft-side cooler packed with a sandwich and chips in his squad car. I closed up Mark’s house, and we left the residence. Kate called Jack as I drove. We needed to know if he wanted us to pitch in at Brian Cox’s house or head back to North Bend. We’d go to Slinger, pick up drive-through food for us and the guys, then continue on to the Cox house, if that was what Jack wanted us to do.
Kate clicked off the call and pocketed her phone.
“So what did Jack say?” I turned onto Highway 83 and headed north.
“He said the guys could use the help. He also said Mark Peters turned white when he told him about the oil match.”
I gave Kate a knuckle bump. “Really, then what?”
“Then he lawyered up.”
My shoulders slumped, and I felt as though we were back to square one. “Crap, there went our efforts so far. There has to be something at Brian’s house that’ll tell us where he took her. Did Jack say anything about the Jeep?”
“Yeah, that it was a dead end too.”
“Call him back.”
“Why?”
“Because we didn’t tell him about the hunting and fishing trips Mark and Brian took together. Jack already has a rapport with Trish’s family. He should ask if any of them know about those trips and where that cabin is located.”
“That’s a good idea, Amber, and I’m putting the call on Speakerphone so you can add your two cents.”
I turned east on Highway 60. The nearest fast-food restaurant was a half block away. I’d park, we’d talk to Jack and get the guys’ food orders, then we’d continue to the drive-through window.
“Boss, it’s Kate and Amber, and I have you on Speakerphone.”
“What’s up, ladies?”
Kate gave me a nod, and I began with my idea. “When we were at Bradford Tool and Die, one of the coworkers mentioned how Brian spoke of hunting and fishing trips he and Mark took together. Brian said they always stayed at the same cabin, and it was a few hours away. He never told anyone the actual location or town that cabin was near, but if I were to always stay at the same place, it would be because I knew the owner or because I made arrangements far in advance. I was wondering if anyone from Trish’s family might know where that cabin is located.”
“So you’re thinking I should call Mrs. Philips?”
“Maybe Trish complained to her when Brian left for those trips. I’m sure I’d say something to my family if my husband took off with his cousin on hunting and fishing trips whenever he wanted to. Chances are, Trish hung out at the family home while he was gone.”
“That’s probably true. I’m on my way to the hospital right now to visit Mr. Philips and see how he’s doing. A man would be the person most likely to pay attention to hunting and fishing details, though. I’ll run it by him and see if anything sparks a memory. Great idea, Amber, and I’ll keep you posted. Are you heading to the Cox house now?”
“Yes, after we make a quick stop to grab lunch for everyone.”
“Sure. See what the guys have found so far and make an extra effort to check for phone records and bank and credit card statements. Also, look for receipts that show an out-of-town name too. Even if it isn’t where the cabin is located, it could be pointing us in the right direction.”
Chapter 17
Cole returned to the rented basement at four o’clock. It was too early to move Candy. The neighborhood was destitute, and businesses in the area had long closed down and houses sat empty. Not many people wandered by anymore other than drug dealers. Still, he wasn’t about to take unnecessary chances, and he’d move her later that night under the cover of darkness.
He was anxious to see if the glucose drip had revived her. It was all he needed—to have her awake but in a catatonic stupor.
Cole flipped the light switch and took the stairs to the basement. Muffled sounds came from the woman strapped to the table, and his heart thumped as he approached her. He looked into her eyes, which wore a blank stare.
“Hello, Candy, I see you’ve joined the living. So, what are you capable of?” He snapped his fingers an inch from her eyes. She didn’t flinch. “So far, so good.” He removed the tape from her mouth, and drool ran down the sides of her face to her neck. He smiled. “Have you been blubbering?” He clicked on the flashlight and spread her eyelids wider. Her pupils didn’t change. “Not much brain function left, at least nothing automatic. Let’s see how your limbs behave.”
Cole unstrapped her left arm and lifted it. It dropped to the table but without the same heavy thud as before. “You have a small amount of motor function, so I couldn’t ask for a better outcome. Let’s give you another bag of glucose. That should be all you need before I release you to the world tonight. You’re about to get your fifteen minutes of fame.” Cole chuckled. “Too bad you literally won’t have the brains to enjoy it.”
A cell phone rang in his pocket, and he stepped to the back of the room and made sure to answer the right one. “Now what? Of course I added baking soda and nuts to the list. They’re already in the shopping cart. I can barely hear you. The grocery store is crowded this time of day. I’ll be home as soon as I can, and I want those chocolate chip cookies started the second I step in the door. I’ll need them for my drive. I’m heading to the checkout lanes, and I have to go.”
Cole hung up and started the final glucose IV. He’d return later, dispose of Candy, gather his equipment, and wipe down the basement with bleach. If the police ever had a reason to enter the basement, they’d never find a single piece of evidence or one fingerprint.
Chapter 18
I grabbed the cardboard carrier filled with sodas, and Kate, with a bag of burgers and fries in each hand, headed for the house. I closed the car door with my right hip and followed her up the steps to the porch. She tapped the kickplate with her foot, and seconds later, Clayton swung o
pen the door.
“Thank God you’re here. I’m famished.” He took the bags from her and led the way to the kitchen, where stacks of documents, receipts, and notebooks lay on the table. He jerked his head toward the counter. “I found some paper plates. Help yourselves. I’ll explain that mess after we eat. Just don’t slop any food on that stuff.”
I smirked. “Those words are seriously coming from a guy?”
We sat and wolfed down our food with Kate and me on one side of the table, Billings and Clayton on the opposite side, and Donnelly and Ebert on each end.
“Did you guys find anything helpful?” Billings asked as he jammed a handful of fries into his mouth.
“Nah,” Kate said. “Silver found some pictures, and one could be Mark and Brian together at their mysterious fishing cabin, but there’s nothing on the photograph that tells us where they are.”
Clayton nodded. “Sounds like the type of pictures we found too. It’s funny that we didn’t see any photographs of the loving husband and wife on vacations together.”
“Pretty sad, I’d say.” I shook my head and took a big bite of my cheeseburger. “What about out-of-town receipts?”
Ebert tipped his chin at one of the stacks on the table. “We still have a lot to go through.”
“Any ammo lying around that matches Brian’s gun?” Kate asked.
“Sure, but we already know that he shot Mr. Philips with the .22,” Billings said.
“Speaking of Mr. Philips, Jack said he was going to pay him a hospital visit and ask if Brian ever mentioned a hunting lodge or cabin anywhere. I’ll be anxious to hear what he says.” I balled up my hamburger wrapper and polished off my fries, then wiped my mouth with the napkin. “Let’s get back at it. Just tell us what you want Kate and me to do.”
Clayton scooped up everyone’s trash and threw it away. “You can help go through the paperwork on the table with Ebert and Donnelly. Billings and I are checking every drawer, closet, and box, room by room. We have two bedrooms left to go.”
Kate and I dug into the receipts while Ebert and Donnelly went through the bank statements.
“Why would anybody save receipts in the first place?” Kate asked.
I wrinkled my forehead. “Good question unless they were work related, but neither of them worked from home.”
“Brian didn’t work at all, and I doubt if grocery store receipts count.” Kate continued on. “Whoa! Here’s a liquor store receipt from Columbus.”
I stopped what I was doing and stuck out my hand. “Let me see it.” Kate passed the slip to me. “What brand of beer were Mark and Brian clanking together in that picture?”
“I don’t remember,” Kate said, “but you put the picture in your purse.”
“That’s right.” I rose from the table and unzipped my purse that sat on the kitchen counter. “Here we go.” I handed the photograph to Donnelly, who was known to knock back a beer or two. “What do you think? Their fingers are blocking part of the can.”
“Hmm, if I were a gambling man, I’d put my money on Bud Light for several reasons. The can is blue, it’s one of the most popular beers in Wisconsin, and it isn’t expensive like those craft beers.” Donnelly handed the photograph to Ebert. “Do you concur?”
I waved his question off. “It doesn’t matter. The receipt was for a case of Bud Light. Good call, Donnelly. Fishing season begins in early May, right?”
“Yep, that’s right,” Ebert said. “It’s usually the first weekend of the month.”
I checked the date on the receipt—May 19. “This is dated the weekend after Mother’s Day last year. I wonder if that was some kind of trigger for Brian. Maybe Mother’s Day went okay last year, but this year Trish had already moved out.”
“You could be on to something, Amber,” Kate said.
Ebert picked up the photograph and gave it a close look. “In this picture, they’re wearing long sleeved T-shirts but no coats. The nearby trees have sprouted leaves, yet they aren’t completely full like in midsummer. I’d say that pit stop for beer was during a fishing vacation, and this photograph could have been taken during that very trip.” He nodded at Kate’s phone lying on the table. “See if there are any fishing hot spots in the Columbus area.”
Kate picked up her phone and did a search. Her frown told us she didn’t find what she was hoping for. “The only thing around there is Craw Fish River and a wetlands public hunting grounds. That picture doesn’t look like fall, when the hunting season begins.”
“But Columbus is due west of Slinger. Maybe it was a pit stop for beer and nothing more. From what I saw of Mark Peters, he absolutely looks like the kind of guy who would drink and drive.” I noticed Kate’s furrowed brow. “What’s wrong?”
“According to the map, Highway 60 ends right there. They could have headed off on a half dozen other roads going north, west, or south. Maybe we should keep busy and wait to hear if Jack finds out anything from Mr. Philips.”
I continued looking at receipts after setting the one with the beer off to the side. I had a feeling we would be spending hours going through insignificant paperwork at Brian’s house.
“I found a box full of old pictures,” Clayton said. He pulled out a chair and plopped down. Billings followed him and took a seat too. “Anything new while we were checking out the bedrooms?”
“Nothing interesting on my end,” I said.
Clayton checked expressions. Everyone shrugged.
“Okay, then hold off on that stuff for now. Let’s go through these pictures and see if they tell us anything.”
I was ready to see something different. Most of the receipts we found could have been chucked long ago. Either Trish or Brian had a thing for hoarding since nothing but the beer receipt held any particular significance. Clayton handed each of us a stack of photographs to look through. I peered around the table to see how full that box was—it was filled to the top. Maybe that task wouldn’t be as interesting as I thought.
“Does anyone know how long Trish and Brian have been married?”
Billings spoke up. “Didn’t Jack say nine years?”
“I don’t remember, but there looks to be more than nine years’ worth of pictures here. What ever happened to organizing photographs in albums?” I let out a sigh and continued on. “I’m going to throw what I’ve looked at on the floor until we’re done. The last thing I want to do is accidentally go through the same pictures twice.”
“Not the worst idea,” Billings said.
“Hey, take a look at this one,” Ebert said. “I think it’s that same cabin, but the picture was taken from a distance. So this cabin”—he tapped the photograph—“sits alone, but farther down the trail are a half dozen more. Where’s that picture you had, Amber?”
“Hang on, I put it with that beer receipt.” I grabbed the photograph and rounded the table to where Ebert sat. I handed it to him and pointed at the front porches. “It looks like they both have four pillars in the front, one on each side of the steps and one on each end of the porch.”
“Yep, that’s the same, and so are the window locations.”
“How about similar trees and bushes? It’s hard to guess how many years apart these pictures are without Mark or Brian in the photograph.”
Kate scooted her chair closer. “Do you think that tiny evergreen in the distant picture could be the same one that’s in the recent picture? I mean, you can only see part of it in the beer can photo, but the tree looks huge.”
Ebert nodded. “The location would be right, only the tree is much larger now. I’m guessing the cabin is one and the same.”
“Okay, so they’ve been going there for years, but we still don’t know where there is. If our assumption is that this cabin is where Brian is holding Trish, then we need to focus on that and how to find it,” Donnelly said.
I checked the time and turned to Kate. “How long ago did we talk to Jack?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a few hours.”
“That’s telling me he
didn’t get anything helpful from Mr. Philips, but I’m calling him, anyway. We need to put our heads together, guys, and figure this out. I’m sure Brian has left the area completely. He’d likely take Trish to a place familiar to him but unknown by anyone else except that jackass, Mark, and he isn’t talking.”
Clayton stood and stretched. “I’ll make the call to Jack and see if he got anything from Mr. Philips.” He crossed the kitchen to the back door and stepped outside.
“So what we do know is Mark and Brian go to the same cabin often, and it’s likely somewhere north, west, or south of Columbus. There are at least seven cabins, and they’re on a beautiful lake.” I let out a long breath. “That could be any resort in the United States.” I saw Kate’s eyes light up.
“Not really.” She pulled out her notepad from her purse and flipped the pages. “That’s what I thought.”
“Are you going to share your discovery?” Donnelly asked.
“Yeah, and I need your help, guys. Amber, remember what Tripp told us?”
“Specifically, or just about the hunting and fishing excursions?”
“Never mind, I wrote it down. He told us that Brian complained about the high gas prices in the area they went to because it was a destination for outdoor enthusiasts.”
“That’s right, he did say that. So, what are you getting at?”
“He also said by the time they got there, the vehicle they took was usually empty. We know Brian has a 2008 Jeep Cherokee and Mark has a 2012 Ford F-150 pickup. If we calculate how far each of those vehicles can go on a tank of gas, it should give us a general idea of how far they traveled.”
“That could work,” Donnelly said. “See how far it is to Columbus, and then we’ll adjust the distance from there.”
Kate picked up her cell and typed in the question. “Okay, Slinger to Columbus is exactly thirty-nine miles from city limit sign to city limit sign. Now we have to see how far both of those vehicles can go on a tank of gas since we don’t know which one they normally took.”
