Atrocity

by C. M. Sutter

  Cole shined the light in her face. “I can’t risk this happening again. I’m doing the procedure now.”

  Chapter 30

  “Anybody come up with a new idea overnight?” Jack stood at the head of the conference room table and led the Wednesday morning update. I made eye contact with him, and he gave me a nod. “Amber, you’ve got the floor.”

  “I’m still thinking the fastest way to locate Brian is by plastering his face all over the TV news channels in that area.”

  Jack frowned.

  Clayton spoke up. “If we posted his mug shot statewide on every news channel instead of only north central Wisconsin, we wouldn’t be pinpointing that area specifically, and we aren’t making up a lie.” He gave me a glance. “Sorry, Amber, but making up something just so we can air his face in one region of the state can come back to bite us. I have to agree with Jack on that one.”

  Kate took her turn. “I think we should give those photographs a closer look, especially the wide-angle one. There could be something we missed.”

  “I’m good with that. Have Todd enlarge them and email them to you.” Jack turned to Billings. “Adam?”

  Billings added his opinion. “We need to talk to the families again. I know Mark is off limits, but Trish’s family and Brian’s family need another interview, and this time we have to dig deep. There has to be something they can give us. A person’s name, a town, a long-lost friend, anything will help.”

  “Okay, we don’t have other cases pressing right now, so we can commit the entire day to tracking down Brian Cox. I’ll contact the media, give them the facial shots and descriptions of both Brian and Trish and say he’s wanted for her abduction and the shooting of his father-in-law.”

  I asked Jack why he wouldn’t describe it as attempted murder.

  “That would mean he went there with the intentions of killing Stan Philips, which wasn’t the case. Stan charged him, and Brian reacted. The gun was most likely meant as a scare tactic to use in abducting Trish, not to actually kill anyone. The family even stated that during my interview with them. We have to tell the facts exactly as they come in, no enhancing anything, and all of you know full well how the media likes to embellish stories. Clayton and Billings, you can divide up the family member interviews any way you like, or work together on all of them. I’d work harder on Brian’s family since they may know more than they realize. Kate and Amber, go ahead and give those photos a closer look and continue to work on the resorts in that area. I’ll get the word out to the media, especially all of the northern counties. I’ll follow up on the BOLO for the Lumina and have the digital freeway signs post the car description and plate number and say that Brian is wanted for kidnapping his estranged wife. We need to stir things up now.” Jack gave us a nod and a head-tip toward the door, his signal that the meeting was over. It was time to get back at it in full force.

  I cupped my hands over my ears to block the screech of the guest chair Kate was dragging across the bull pen floor.

  She grimaced. “Sorry.” She picked it up and carried it the rest of the way.

  Todd had enlarged the photographs we took from Brian and Mark’s homes, and I received them in my in-box. He said he’d tweaked them the best he could to create the sharpest image of each. Kate and I sat side by side and stared at the pictures. There wasn’t much to go on in the photograph of Mark and Brian clinking beer cans. We saw them only from the waist up with a small amount of the cabin and lake behind them, yet we had to be thorough and not take anything in the photographs for granted. We’d dissect the pictures individually. Studies said that women were much more observant of details than men, and we didn’t want to prove that study wrong. Brian and Mark sat on a wide porch, and the cabin, obviously with a log façade, was at their backs.

  “Is there anything in this photo, even the slightest thing, that stands out to you, Kate?”

  With her chin resting on her fist, she leaned in and looked closely at the monitor. “We’ve already gone over most of this with Donnelly and Ebert as far as the brand of beer, what season it was, and what the men were wearing.”

  I let out a long sigh. “I know, but with the photo blown up like this, I thought we’d see more.”

  “Hang on, I think I see something behind Mark’s left shoulder. Where’s that handy-dandy magnifying glass you have?”

  I tipped my head toward her knee. “Bottom drawer on your right. What is it? What do you see?”

  “It could be a house number.”

  I punched her shoulder. “Damn it, Kate. Why didn’t you see that two days ago?”

  She scowled at me and rubbed her arm. “Do you mind? I’m trying to help out, and I get beat up instead.”

  I waved away her whining. “Grab the damn thing already.”

  Kate pulled out the six-times power magnifying glass and held it up to Mark’s shoulder. “Humph.”

  “Humph better equate to something helpful. Is it a number or not?”

  “Yes, but I only see a single number. We probably thought it was something decorative on the porch like a plant hanger, but it’s definitely a one.”

  “One, as in the number for the first cabin, or one as in eleven, or twenty-one, or thirty-one?” I rubbed my temples.

  “I don’t know, Amber. It’s a one, and that’s something.”

  I shook my head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’ll start a list of clues. Maybe once we’re done with both pictures, something will make sense.” I pulled out a legal pad and a pen from the center drawer. Kate helped me think as I jotted down the clues we had so far. “Okay, it was most likely May of last year, or any May, actually.”

  “Yep, and the cabin is log and has a big front porch with four pillars and windows facing the front. A bronze coach lamp is mounted next to the door, and a number one indicates the order of the cabins or an actual address.”

  “We don’t know which for sure, but since the other picture shows cabins farther in the distance, I’d say it’s the cabin order, not an address.” I put a question mark next to that entry on our list. “What else?”

  “It’s on a really pretty lake, although we can’t tell if the lake is large or small, only that it looks wide across.”

  “Humph.”

  “Now you’re saying that?” Kate looked back at the photograph. “What are you thinking?”

  “If this picture was taken early in the fishing season and this location is somewhere in the touristy, outdoor-enthusiast area, then why aren’t there any boats on the water? You’d think there would be kids tubing, water skiers, people fishing, that sort of thing.”

  “True, but if it’s a small lake and people are ripping around with speed boats and jet skis, the fishermen probably wouldn’t be out at that time. Maybe they only fish in the morning or at dusk.”

  “Or, what if it’s a no-motor lake?” I raised my brows at Kate.

  “Then I don’t think many people would go there except the locals. The city guys from Milwaukee or Chicago aren’t going to know about that type of lake, plus they don’t have time for that. They own the big boats they like to show off and buzz around in. They probably don’t care about fishing, only water sports.”

  “Okay, that’s good. Maybe we’re on the right track.” I tried to enlarge the photograph even more by pushing the zoom bar to the right, but I turned it into a jigsaw puzzle of pixels. I pushed it back. “Do you see a motor on that boat by the water’s edge?”

  Kate leaned in even closer than before. She handed me the magnifying glass, and I held it an inch from the screen. I didn’t see a motor attached to the boat.

  “A motorboat wouldn’t be lying upside down on the bank. It would be floating in the water and tied to the pier, wouldn’t it?” Kate asked.

  “Yes, it sure would.” I wrote down our thoughts on that. “Okay, let’s check the picture from farther out.” I clicked over to the other photograph, and we began the process again. “There’s a dirt path that leads from Brian’s cabin to the others, and I
’d gauge the distance to be at least several hundred feet. I’m wondering why there’s that empty space at all. Aren’t cabins normally in close proximity?”

  “I’d think so. Maybe there was a playground or a tennis court between them at one time,” Kate said.

  “That’s possible. How about the size of the other cabins? Do they look the same as the first one?”

  Kate shrugged. “I can’t tell because of the distance, but apparently something is cooking in your brain.”

  “There is. What if the first cabin—if that one is indeed the first—was built before the others and belonged to the owner of the property as his personal getaway? Maybe that’s why the cabins are spaced apart. He doesn’t, or didn’t, want other people right on top of him. Chances are, the guy still owns it or sold everything off, and that’s when the other cabins were built and the property became a resort. It could have started as a private place for him and his buddies, or even his family, to kick back, relax, fish, and hunt.”

  “So the chances of that cabin being larger than the rest are pretty high. Too bad we can’t tell its size on either picture.”

  “Maybe Tech can figure it out. I mean, it even has a carport on the side. There has to be a good reason why that one is different from the rest.” I called downstairs and explained our theory to Todd. He said he’d do what he could to compare cabin sizes.

  Kate’s eyes lit up. “I bet the owner of that cabin is the one who took the picture of Brian and Mark clinking beer cans. If we find out who he is, we might find out where Brian is holding Trish.”

  “Good idea. Let’s see if we can narrow down the lakes in that area and identify the ones that don’t allow motors. Once we have that list, we’ll go over all the photos in each website’s gallery. Something that looks familiar might pop up.”

  Now with a plan of action that made sense, Kate and I hunkered down and got busy.

  Jack’s office door opened and closed an hour later. He rubbed his forehead then pulled over Clayton’s guest chair and took a seat. “The major TV stations across the state are going to air a segment about Brian on their local news channels at five and ten o’clock. They’ll do it for the next day or two unless we catch a break. If that happens, I’m sure more information will be broadcast throughout the day. What are you two working on?”

  Kate took the lead. “It’s a theory we have, boss. We think the cabin Brian and Mark stay in when they head up north is actually owned by an acquaintance of theirs.”

  “How so?”

  I continued where Kate left off. “Somebody took that picture of them together on the fishing trip. That particular cabin is away from the others on purpose. We think it belongs to the resort owner, or did at one time, as his personal getaway. Otherwise, why would the cabin look different and be spaced farther away from the others?”

  Kate piped in. “It’s the only one with a carport too.”

  “Makes sense, but the person taking the picture could be anyone. How many times has a stranger offered to take a picture for a group of people? It could be somebody who stays at the same resort year after year and they’ve become friends. We’ve already established that the photographs are several years apart by the growth of that pine tree.”

  I felt as if we’d just lost our last hope of finding Brian by learning who the property belonged to. “So the person who took the picture could have been any passerby?”

  “It’s possible, Amber, and we can’t grasp at every straw. We have to stick to facts.”

  “Okay, then what do you think of this scenario?” I scrolled back to the first photograph of Mark and Brian. “See that boat lying against the bank in the distance?”

  Jack leaned forward, and I handed him the magnifying glass.

  He grinned. “Are you trying to tell me something? My eyes aren’t that bad.”

  “No, I want you to look for a motor. We didn’t see one, and a boat with a motor wouldn’t be stored that way.”

  “Okay, I get it, but so what? Not everyone can afford a motorboat.”

  “True enough, but there aren’t any boats on the lake that are visible in the background either. During the prime time of year, wouldn’t you picture speed boats and jet skis out there?”

  “Yeah, I’d think so. At least it’s that way along the St. Croix River, where my brothers live.”

  Kate spoke up. “We’re thinking it may be a no-motor lake. If it is, we can check on the DNR’s website and print a list of every no-motor lake in the entire state, but I believe we can search by county too. We’ll enter that information and see if any resorts pop up for those lakes. That way, we can narrow down the search, and if the resorts have photo galleries, we’ll check to see if anything looks like what we see on these pictures.”

  “Sure, go ahead with that angle. It sounds reasonable.”

  We turned at the sound of the security pad being tapped on the other side of the door. Clayton and Billings entered the bull pen, and from the looks on their faces, they hadn’t had much luck.

  “Get anything new?” Jack asked.

  Clayton smirked. “Nobody from Brian’s immediate family had anything to say, and that was only from the twenty percent who actually answered their phone. Same old story—they didn’t keep in touch with him because Brian was a loose cannon. Nobody felt safe in his presence, especially when he drank, so we went back to the Philips home and interviewed Nancy again.”

  “Did she tell you any more than we already had?”

  “She thought long and hard,” Billings said, “and came up with three names that Trish had mentioned in the past.”

  “That’s great, so who are they?”

  “We only got first names, and she didn’t remember what Trish said about the guys, just that Brian brought up their names once in a while. Trish complained to Nancy on many occasions about Brian’s overindulgence in drinking, so she thinks those men were likely Brian’s bar buddies.” Clayton pulled out his notepad from his inner jacket pocket. “The names were Lonny, Jesse, and Cole.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t help.”

  “Sorry, boss, it sure doesn’t,” Clayton said. “The person with all the answers lives twenty minutes away, and we can’t do a damn thing about making him talk.”

  Chapter 31

  “That bitch deserved everything she got.” Brian winced when he touched the deep gouges between his forehead and cheek. At one point during their struggle last night, Trish had managed to free a hand and give him a good clawing. “I’m lucky she didn’t scratch out my eye.”

  Cole stared at her as she lay on the old wooden kitchen table, her limbs stretched as far as they could go and secured to the table’s legs. She was splayed out like a Thanksgiving turkey. Her face was badly bruised, not just from the lobotomy but also from the beating she’d endured at the hands of her husband.

  Just like Candy, Trish was heavily sedated due to her resistance. Her black-and-blue eyes were closed, and her forehead and mouth were bound by duct tape.

  “How soon before she wakes up? I’m excited to see the change.” Brian busied himself at the counter, making sandwiches for lunch.

  Cole pulled open Trish’s left eyelid and stared down. “Perfect, her pupil is dilated.” He clicked the flashlight’s button and shined it into her eye. “And the bright light didn’t make it change.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It could be from the sedative or the brain injury, but it’s too early to tell. We have to wait until she wakes up to see if it’s a permanent or temporary issue.”

  Brian cut the sandwiches in half, poured chips in a bowl, and placed two beers on the coffee table. He jerked his head toward the living room. “What happens if it didn’t work?”

  “Then I scramble her eggs even more. It’s what I had to do with Candy too. I’d rather do the procedure twice, tweaking it as I go, than to overdo it the first time and kill the poor thing.” He chuckled. “That reminds me, turn on the TV and let’s watch the noon news.
We missed the updates last night because of that wife of yours.”

  Brian clicked the power button and aimed the remote at the television. The TV was already turned to Channel 6. He glanced at the wall clock during the commercial break. “It looks like the news is about to start after this bullshit.” He bit into the turkey-and-cheese sandwich then dropped a handful of chips on his plate. He crossed his legs and rested them on the coffee table. The news began, and the men stared at the screen. “That babe is pretty hot,” Cole said as he looked over the anchorwoman.

  “Yeah, but I bet she’s a handful. She looks like the type that could use a double lobotomy. With that hot face and body and a big income, you know damn well she wears the pants in that family. I’m sure her old man kisses her ass. What the hell?” Brian nearly choked on his potato chips when the anchorwoman said his name and the photograph from his driver’s license popped up on the screen. Seconds later, Trish’s photo and description were aired too. According to the anchor, Brian was wanted by the Washburn County Sheriff’s Office for kidnapping his estranged wife and shooting his father-in-law during a heated argument. The father-in-law was recovering in an area hospital.

  “Jesus, Brian, you didn’t tell me you shot her father.”

  “I didn’t intend to, but the asshole charged me when I had a loaded gun in my hand. What kind of an idiot does that?”

  “There’s at least one that you know of. Now you really have to stay indoors until the procedure is proven a success. You should be fine once you leave the state.”

  “I’d feel better with some hair dye. Maybe I should let my beard and mustache grow out too.”