by Rick Reed
“Crime scene is going over the place now,” Mattingly said. “I talked to the clerk and some of the residents around the area before I came here. There aren’t any houses close to the place, and everyone was inside and didn’t see anything helpful. The clerk didn’t get a name, but the room was rented by a white male, forties to fifties, tall, dark suit. In fact, the guy rented the whole damn place and paid cash. I think Mr. Bolin is on his way, and he didn’t sound too happy on the phone. Let’s go to the break room.”
They went down the hall to a room with one cheap chrome-legged table, two plastic chairs, and a full-size refrigerator with a note taped to the door that read, “Don’t touch my food.” It was signed by a doctor. If you left a note like that on the fridge in the detectives’ office you risked coming back to find a tampon slipped into your sandwich by one of the heathens.
Mattingly said, “Dispatch got a call from a man saying two juveniles were hurt at The Peaks Inn and needed an ambulance. Dispatch tried to get more information but the caller hung up.”
“Let me guess,” Jack said. “The call came from a pay phone.”
“Yeah. In the parking lot of the American Legion next door,” Mattingly said. “My guys arrived and said they could hear a female screaming her head off. One of the room doors was open and they found the juveniles duct-taped to barstools. They were banged up real good, and the boy wasn’t moving. I had one car follow the ambulance here, and the other stayed at the motel to wait for crime scene.”
“Did the kids say anything to your guys?” Jack asked.
“The girl told him they’d been kidnapped by some guy and he shot the boy in the foot. He was going to shoot her too, and had put pillowcases over their heads. He was asking questions about Sonny and some money he thought they’d stolen.”
“Did she see anyone else there?” Jack asked.
“Yeah. I think Mindy was there. Vincent Sullis?” Mattingly asked.
“Probably,” Jack answered. “Can you stick around? I need to talk to the girl and I might need you.”
Sgt. Mattingly said he would, and Jack and Liddell found the doctor in the hallway.
Jack asked, “Can we talk to Dayton?”
“Sure, Jack,” the doctor said. “Hey, I thought you’d quit the department. Haven’t seen you in here for a while. No slings, or crutches. Wow.”
“I’m being more careful, but you should see the other guys.”
“I never see the other guys. I don’t work the morgue,” the doctor said with a laugh. “She’s been through a lot. Take it easy in there, Jack.”
Jack and Liddell entered the cubicle and found Dayton propped up in a hospital bed. Her cheeks and jaw were black with bruises. A bandage covered the cheekbone under one eye.
“I want to go home,” she said. “Is my daddy here?”
“Your parents are on their way,” Jack told her. “Do you feel like answering a few questions before they get here?”
“Can I have my water, please?” she asked.
Jack handed her a cup of water from the bedside stand and she winced when she put the straw to her lips.
“Do you know who took you?” Jack asked.
She shook her head. “Is my mom coming too?”
“Dayton, I’m sure she is. I need you to answer my questions if you can. Shaking your head won’t help me, okay?”
She nodded and then caught herself. “Yes.”
“I won’t keep you from your parents, I promise. They can take you home.” He didn’t tell her that he would have to question her at length later. She was pretty rattled as it was, and barely holding back the tears.
“Okay,” she said, almost too softly for Jack to hear.
“Do you know the name of the person that took you away?” Jack asked again.
“She called him Sully. The woman in the room. He took us and she was in the room when we got there. She wasn’t like him. I think she was scared of him too. Like us. Except she wasn’t tied up or anything. He shot Zack in the foot. He just shot him!” Fresh tears spilled down her face. “He put pillowcases over our heads and said he was going to shoot me first. He kept asking Zack and me questions about the dead guy we found. He asked Zack where the money was.”
“Did Zack have any money?” Jack asked.
“He had some stuck down his pants,” Dayton said. “I didn’t know. Honest.”
“Sully found the money?” Jack asked.
“Yes.”
“What else did he ask you about?”
“He asked Zack if the gun was the dead guy’s. The guy we found this morning.”
“What gun?” Jack asked.
“Zack had a gun when the guy took us. He took the gun from Zack when we were in his car. I can’t believe Zack had a gun. I mean I don’t know where he got it.”
Jack said, “We’ll get into the money and gun later. I have some other questions right now. Okay?”
She started to nod and said, “Sorry. Yes.”
“Dayton, do you remember the woman’s name?”
“She was old. Maybe thirty. I don’t remember. I don’t…I just want to go home. Please!”
“Anything you can remember will help me catch the guy that took you and Zack. If I don’t, he might grab someone else. Shoot someone else.”
“He was tall. Older. Wearing a suit and he had a big gun. He came to the door and said Zack was in big trouble and he needed me to come to the Police Department to vouch for Zack. He promised we’d only be gone ten minutes and my parents weren’t home so I went with him. The guy, Sully, kept asking me where Zack was. I told him I didn’t know.”
“Did you know where Zack was?” Jack asked her.
“Zack called me and wanted to meet up and talk. I guess he still wanted to go to California. I asked the guy why he was asking me where Zack was, when he had said he was at the police station. That’s when he pulled a gun out and told me to tell him where Zack was.”
“You told him where you were supposed to meet Zack?” Jack asked.
She nodded.
“It’s okay,” Jack assured her. “I would have told him too. You did the right thing.”
Jack could tell by the look on her face that she didn’t think she’d done the right thing at all. “What happened after that?”
“Zack was standing outside that little store—the one over by St. Anthony School—and the guy, Sully, stopped and made Zack get in the car.”
“Go on.”
“He pointed a gun at me and told Zack to get in. He took a gun from Zack and took us to that motel.” She started crying and turned her face away.
“Dayton, it’s okay. You’re safe now. Zack is safe now. He’s going to be okay. You did a good thing by yelling for help. That’s why the policeman found you. You did good. You helped Zack.”
She dabbed the sheet gingerly under her eyes. “Her name was Mindy. I remember he was mad at her. He slapped me and he cut me.”
“Mindy? Are you sure?” Jack asked.
“Yeah. Mindy.”
“Was Mindy hurt?” Jack asked. He was running out of time, but was afraid to push the girl too hard.
“She was scared. And drunk, I think. She didn’t want that guy to hurt us. When he shot Zack, she freaked out and got sick. The guy told her to get out. She left us. Just like that.”
“When Mindy left, what happened?” Jack asked.
“He put pillowcases over our heads. I couldn’t see but I heard someone come in and he talked to her. Mindy.”
“What were they talking about?” Jack asked.
“She didn’t say anything. I heard the door open and Sully said something to her. Angry-like.”
“Was he talking to Mindy?” Jack asked.
“I’m not sure. The guy said, ‘I knew you’d be back,’ or something like that. Then it sounded like someone was choking and I
heard scraping sounds and the door opened. Another man said we were safe and someone would come and find us. Then I heard a door shut and there wasn’t anything until the police came in and got us loose.”
“You’re doing fine, Dayton. Really. I’m proud of you. You’re tougher than anyone I know. You did exactly right.” Jack wanted to get her back from panic-land. If you need a woman to listen to you, compliment her. He got some tissues from the bedside stand and handed them to her.
“I was tough, wasn’t I?” she said. She tried to smile and winced, putting a hand to her cheek.
“I’m sorry he hurt you, Dayton,” Jack said.
“What else do you want to know?” she asked.
“Was it Mindy that the man, Sully was talking to?”
“I thought so, but I don’t think so now. I remember Sully—or someone—making choking sounds. I thought he was killing the woman, Mindy. Then another man’s voice told us we were safe. Why didn’t he help us, Detective Murphy?” Dayton asked.
“It was a different man. Not Sully. You’re sure?” Jack asked.
“I just remember it was a man. He sounded old, like you and Detective Blanchard.”
Thanks. “Do you remember what kind of vehicle Sully was driving when he took you? What color?”
“It was a black like my dad’s. My dad owns a Murano and his car was like it, but it wasn’t a Murano, you know.”
Jack could hear a commotion coming from the ER entrance.
“Your parents are here, Dayton. You can go home with them. You’ll be safe now.”
Mr. Bolin pushed through the curtain door of his daughter’s room. He stopped at the foot of the bed and his breath caught in his throat. “Oh, baby, what happened?” Before she could answer, Mrs. Bolin came in, rushed to her daughter’s side, and they began fussing over her.
Jack said, “Mr. Bolin, can you step down the hall a minute, please?”
Bolin followed Jack and Liddell toward the break room. “I’ve talked to your daughter. We are in a hurry to find the guy that did this,” Jack said.
“Zack hurt my baby,” Bolin said, no question in his mind who was guilty. Mr. Bolin’s words were choppy. Jack knew he was a gnat’s-hair away from exploding.
“It wasn’t Zack,” Jack said. “I have a good idea who the man is, and it wasn’t Zack. He’s in critical condition. The guy who took them shot Zack because he was trying to protect your daughter.” Jack didn’t tell him Zack was in the next cubicle. He was probably stretching the truth, but he didn’t want Bolin going postal on Zack. At least not until the kid healed.
“Dayton told you who it was?”
“We were already searching for him,” Jack said. “You can take Dayton home tonight. Someone will need to talk to her later on and show her some pictures.”
“Did you arrest him?”
“We haven’t found him yet,” Jack said.
Bolin’s muscles bunched, his hands turned to fists.
“Mr. Bolin, what your daughter told us leads us to believe the man is no longer a threat. I can’t tell you more than that for now. I’ll have a police car in front of your house tonight until we sort this out.”
Bolin didn’t seem to relax. “You’re damn right you’ll get someone to protect us,” he said. “You told me this morning that she wasn’t in danger.”
Jack didn’t want to argue with the man. He was right, and he was scared. “Why don’t you go talk to her doctor? I don’t think her injuries are too bad. Wait here until an officer escorts you home.”
Bolin seemed to run out of adrenaline. “Sorry for that,” he said. “Thank you for everything. Thank you for finding my baby girl. Anything you need from us…” Bolin gulped air, broke down and sobbed.
Liddell put a hand on Bolin’s shoulder and led him back to his wife and daughter. The doctor was standing outside the cubicle.
The off-duty officer approached and said, “Dispatch on the phone for one of you.”
Chapter 41
Jack was lost in thought as they got in Liddell’s Crown Vic outside the ER.
“Is where we’re going a secret, pod’na?”
“Sorry,” Jack said. “New Harmony.”
Liddell pulled onto Columbia Street and turned right on First Avenue, headed north to Diamond Avenue, which would take them to the little town of New Harmony.
Jack said, “A Posey County Sheriff’s deputy called. He has another burned body.”
“Sully?”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “They found Uncle Marty’s Jeep. Two semi-automatic handguns and a tracking device were in it. He found the wallet. Vincent Sullis, Boston driver’s license. The Jeep’s a rental.”
“Tunney suggested Sully was the murderer,” Liddell said. “Maybe this is some other poor bastard. Sully could have done it and left his wallet at the scene.”
“Shit!” Jack said, and slammed his fist on the dashboard. “We’re going around in circles. Sully’s either the killer or he’s dead and the real killer is long gone. This asshole is always one step ahead of us.”
Liddell turned onto Diamond Avenue, crossed St. Joseph Avenue, and, seeing the road ahead was clear, he punched it. They were topping a rise just before they would reach Highway 69 when Jack saw flashing red, blue, and white lights in the distance. He heard sirens coming from the direction of New Harmony. Liddell topped the rise and Jack could see a half dozen emergency vehicles, including a two-tone brown Sheriff unit and Fire Department rescue and pumper trucks. The New Harmony town constable’s rusting Chevy Caprice was there also, and coming from Highway 69 was a caravan of Civil Defense with blue lights blazing.
“Nothing much happens around here,” Jack said.
Highway 69 was far in the distance and near total darkness had descended everywhere except under the floodlights from the emergency vehicles. A huge grain bin fed by a long conveyor belt was covered with white fire-retarding foam. As Liddell got closer, Jack could make out a foam-covered form in the shape of a man suspended from a metal strut of the conveyor belt. The shape’s shoulders and head were slumped forward, arms behind its back.
Liddell pulled in behind a Posey County Sheriff car and a Smoky Bear hat approached.
“Deputy Stevens,” the man said, introducing himself. He tilted the Smoky Bear hat toward the body. “Damn mess. I don’t know how Crime Scene’s going to get anything. If the cable wasn’t strung under his arms, he’d have come apart like a baked chicken.”
Having seen the results of a fire that afternoon, Jack had the same idea go through his mind.
“Any other injuries you could see? You mentioned some guns,” Jack said.
“He was still on fire when I got here,” Deputy Stevens said, unable to pull his eyes away from the body. “He was just hanging there like that. Burning like a wooden match.”
The deputy was young. In his early twenties at most. Jack felt a twinge of compassion. The last big thing Jack could remember happening in Posey County was when two hired guns shot up the pharmacy in New Harmony, blowing the owner’s head off.
“You say you found his wallet?” Jack asked.
The deputy led Jack across a partially frozen, partially mush and mud field to a Jeep that was hidden behind a work shack. The shack was painted white. The Jeep blended in perfectly. The driver’s door stood open. Jack could see a pile of folded clothing on the front seat. A dark suit jacket, shirt, belt, shoes, and socks. The slacks were on top of the stack, and the wallet lay open on top.
“You opened the door and went through the clothes?” Jack asked.
The deputy said with a defensive look, “The door was open. The keys were in the ignition. The wallet was just like that. The two handguns are on the front floorboard.”
“What about the GPS tracker?” Jack prodded.
“Yeah, I got that. It was on the ground over near the dead guy. I was afraid it would melt i
n the fire. I figured that was an exigent circumstance—you know—and I picked it up to keep it from being destroyed.”
“You did the right thing, Deputy Stevens.” Jack needed to keep this deputy friendly.
“Do you want to see it?” The deputy took it from his jacket pocket and put it in Liddell’s hand.
Now there were two sets of fingerprints on the GPS, and not just the deputy’s. Smart move.
Liddell said, “The GPS is still turned on.”
The deputy said, “It was that way when I found it. I didn’t turn it on, and that’ll be in my report too.”
“This is the Jeep. The guy who rented it is Martin Crispino. He’s in the hospital in Kentucky. Vincent Sullis’s car is still missing. It’s a black Mercedes sedan with smoked windows and Massachusetts license plates.”
“Yeah?” the deputy said. “I ran the plates on the Jeep and your BOLO came up saying you wanted this guy and a woman and the Jeep. What the hell’s going on here, detectives?”
“Long story,” Jack said. “If this really is Sully, you’ve ended our search. Did you see anything that might belong to a woman? A purse? Clothes? Shoes?”
“Not that I saw,” the deputy said. “You still want the woman? Mindy something?”
“That’s her. She was at a motel with Sully earlier.”
The deputy started to ask a question but stopped himself.
“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full, Detective Murphy.”
Liddell fiddled with the GPS tracker. “Nothing, pod’na. Either the one Uncle Marty put on Sully’s car is turned off, or it’s out of range.”
The deputy said, “I’ve seen that type of tracker before. It has a range of, say, five miles max. I tried it before I called you and got nothing.”
“You said you saw two handguns,” Jack said.
“Three,” Stevens said. “Two Glock .45 semi-autos and a Beretta 9mm. This guy was ready for a war. I haven’t run the serial numbers.”
“Can you do a couple of things for us?” Jack asked.
“Anything,” Deputy Stevens said.
“First, can you see if there’s a gun permit in the wallet?”
“I thought of that. None that I could see but I didn’t want to mess with evidence too much.”
