“He had the vehicle description and plate number of the car his son bought. I wonder why he didn’t locate that first, and then check out a nearby tent?”
“Not everyone drives a vehicle to their campsite. Some hike in. Sheriff Kenner said when he didn’t see his son’s car, he thought maybe he hid it somewhere, in case authorities knew what he drove.”
“I guess that sort of makes sense,” I said.
“He called the number of his son’s prepaid phone a number of times, thought he’d hear it ring at one of the sites, but didn’t.”
“So he decided to do physical checks instead.”
“We had three calls before the deputies got out there and found him. Of course, they had no idea what in the hell was going on, who he was. Mike didn’t seem all that coherent, repeating how he had to find his son, knew he must be in one of the tents,” Brown said.
I shook my head. “Thankfully, you identified him. And we appreciate that you kept him out of jail. At least for now.”
“I sent the deputies back to get statements from the complainants without revealing who their trespasser was. None of them wanted to press charges; they were just glad we’d gotten him out of the park, taken him into custody. I made it very clear to Mike that he cannot go back there on his own. I told him we’d search for his son. He made me promise to let him know if they got any more pings from his son’s phone. I said I would. He needs counseling and about twenty-four hours of sleep.”
“We’ll see what we can do. The ironic thing is our sheriff is an expert when it comes to critical incident debriefings and walking people through the process of what to do, who to talk to,” I said
“When it’s your kid who’s in trouble, all bets are off the table.”
Sheriff looked and smelled like a new man when he emerged ahead of Smoke from the restroom. He’d shed his outer shirt and his white undershirt appeared surprisingly clean. His dark blue jeans needed washing, but the color camouflaged the dirt. His eyes were less swollen, maybe from a cold-water splash.
Sheriff Brown handed Smoke Kenner’s keys. We extended our thanks and were on our way. Smoke’s worries were confirmed when we neared Kenner’s Ford Expedition and he said, “We should swing through the state park, take one last look.”
Smoke laid a firm hand on his shoulder. “Mike, you’re my boss. More importantly, you’re my friend. There is no way in creation we are going anywhere near that park tonight. We all need to get home, get some rest. And see what tomorrow brings.”
23
I pulled in the Kenners’ driveway behind Smoke. The garage door lifted, and I watched the two get out of the Ford. The inside door opened, and April stood waiting to receive Mike with open arms. He raised his hand in a goodbye wave to Smoke then joined his wife.
I read April’s lips when she said, “I’ll close the overhead door.” After Smoke cleared from the garage, she pushed the button. As the door went down, Mike’s arms tightened around his wife, and my eyes filled with tears. One more blow for them to deal with.
Smoke climbed into the passenger seat and let go of a loud, “Huh!”
“That bad?” I backed out of the driveway.
“Those ninety minutes were among the longest of my life. Mike was on the phone with April at least half the time and spent the rest of it plotting ways to search for Jaxson. I’m exhausted.”
“Is he in total denial about his actions in Pine County that actually got him arrested?”
“There’s more to it than that. He was in the pits and now he’s on a mountain top. Depressed, now manic. You can only skyrocket so far up before you crash. Scares the hell out of me, what’s happening to him,” Smoke said.
“You need to run all this by the chief deputy.”
“I know. I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place. Mike called me and not his chief to rescue him. But Randolph’s the acting sheriff and has got to know about this, pronto. I told Mike that. All he said was, ‘Yeah, I’ll tell him.’”
“And you’ll fill in the rest of the story with your observations and other details?” I said.
“Yes.”
“You think he and April will be okay tonight?”
“As long as he doesn’t talk her into any lamebrain scheme, like scouring the Pine County area in search of their son,” Smoke said.
“She didn’t go with him last time.”
“April didn’t know he was going.”
“That’s so not cool. Her finding out after the fact,” I said.
“Nope.”
Queenie and Rex must have sensed Smoke and I were over-the-top weary, so they laid down and watched as I pulled the uneaten plates of lasagna out of the fridge and put them in the microwave. “Thank you,” Smoke said when I handed him one.
We gobbled down our food like it was our last meal. “There’s more in the casserole. Ready for seconds?”
“You bet. I’ll count it as my midnight snack.”
“It’s getting close.”
We finished it off, then he said, “You know what I’m thinking?”
“You could fall asleep standing up?”
“Not quite. It’s more along the lines of we head upstairs, crawl under the covers, and set aside the cares and concerns of the day.”
And that’s what we did. Despite all the turmoil we were caught up in, we concentrated on each other and expressed the love we shared in the sweetest way possible.
I woke up Friday morning to little knocking sounds on the roof. Like racquet balls dropping from the sky. It took me a second to realize they were raindrops. Large ones. Would the rain delay the road project on County 35 at Coyote Bog? In the four days since the gruesome discovery a part of me waited for that call, the one notifying the sheriff’s office the road crew had found another body in the bog. It kept me on edge. With seven unidentified bodies with the medical examiner, I prayed that number wouldn’t grow to eight or more. We’d assembled a viable list of elderly people who’d disappeared over the years, but the M.E. had not yet linked them to any they had autopsied.
I rolled out of bed and found Smoke in the kitchen drinking coffee. Queenie’s and Rex’s coats were damp; they’d been outside to do their business.
“Good morning on this rainy day, sunshine.” Smoke stood and took me in his arms. I welcomed his sweet kisses.
“Morning. I wish we could spend this dreary day in bed.”
“That’s a thought. A very tempting one.” He squeezed me tighter then lowered his head and nibbled on my neck.
His cell phone rang. “Sorry.” He pushed the talk button. “Detective Dawes. . . . Good to hear from you. What’s up? . . . That’s good news. . . . We’ll see what the DNA tests show. How about the pendant, did either family recognize it? . . . Appreciate the info.”
He disconnected. “That was Detective Gale in Meeker County. They got DNA swabs from the children of Horace Kline and Gloria Freiburg, along with their medical records. They delivered the DNA swabs to the regional lab yesterday and will get the medical records to the medical examiner today.”
“Wow, nice and fast.”
“They lucked out that the families are in the area. And you know how motivated officials involved in missing persons’ cases are to solve them,” Smoke said.
“Yes, I do.”
“But no one recognized the pendant.”
“Dang it.”
“I’m heading to the office shortly. First off, I need to talk to Sheriff Brown in Pine County, see if there’s any indication Jaxson’s still there.”
“And what about our sheriff?” I said.
“I’ll find out if he’s talked to Randolph yet.”
Deputy Bob Edberg phoned me a little after 8:00. “The PCA who was going through my mother’s drawers yesterday is the same one there today. I decided not to call her out on it, see if she displays any other odd behavior first. I’ll make a point of stopping home a couple of times during my shift, if it works out.”
“That’d be good, Bob. With the
nanny cameras on, you can always check them, too.”
“I wished I’d thought of that before ˊcause it relieves a lot of the stress,” he said.
“Too bad you need them, but good to have them when you do.”
“Right on.”
Smoke and I met in Chief Deputy Randolph’s office at 8:40. Smoke had scheduled a conference call meeting with FBI Special Agent Kent Erley at 9:00.
“I talked to Mike earlier and just got off the phone with Sheriff Brown in Pine County a few minutes ago. It sounds like the two of you got caught up in quite the ordeal last night,” Randolph said.
Smoke shook his head. “We gotta find Jaxson a-sap, before our sheriff does anything else dumb or dangerous looking for him.”
“I agree. No more pings from the prepaid phone Jaxson bought. All the counties have the number to check, and I’ve requested they call it every hour. I’m counting on them to see it through.”
“My question is whether Jaxson will stay in Minnesota or make his way to another state. He said in his note he wanted to start a new life. What does that mean?” Smoke said.
“That’d be a good question to ask the special agent when we have him on the line. What he thinks Jaxson might do,” I said.
Smoke glanced at me and grinned. “Now you’re thinkinˊ.” He turned back to Randolph. “Clayton, I think you should get a team from Human Services, rather than from our office, to go over to the Kenners’ house. Have them spend some time helping them work through all this. Mike can’t see he needs help. And if it gets much worse, I’m afraid he’ll end up in the emergency room on a seventy-two-hour mental health hold.”
“A social worker and public health nurse might be just the right ticket,” Randolph said.
“I’ve watched a number of them do crisis interventions, mostly in child protection cases, but they’re well trained and very competent,” I said.
“Yep.” Smoke’s phone rang. He pushed the talk button. “Detective Dawes. . . . Yes, Sheriff. . . . That’s encouraging. Any hit on the pendant? . . . We figured it was a long shot. When the regional lab has the results, we’ll both be notified and take it from there. Thanks, and have a good one.”
Smoke disconnected and nodded.
“Not our sheriff?” I said.
“No, Morris from Sherburne. We might be catching a break here. They got a hold of Mildred Dryer’s son yesterday, collected his DNA, and delivered it to the lab before they closed. Here’s the capper: her son said she had her gallbladder removed about ten years ago.”
My heart picked up its beat. “Oh, my gosh. But his mother did not own that pendant?”
“Nope. Not that he knows of, anyway.”
“I wouldn’t know all the jewelry pieces my mother has,” Randolph said.
“No, but a distinctive pendant you would. She’d be apt to wear it a lot,” I said.
“You have a point.” Randolph drummed his desk with his fingers. “Identifying a victim and a break in the case would be the brightest spot we’ve had so far.”
“You know it,” Smoke said.
I said a silent prayer our first victim recovered from the bog was Mildred Dryer.
24
Mama and Rufus
When Mama came through the door that morning after working an extra shift, an overnight, Rufus was afraid of what she might have to say. If she’d made up her mind about how many patients she was planning to send on their heavenly journey. He had been praying there wouldn’t be more than one.
Mama had a look that scared him. She’d had it when she left for work the night before and still had it when she came home. Like she was feeling fierce, or something. Her skin was dark pink. She was frowning and kept staring straight ahead, like she saw something. He didn’t have the right words for how she looked, but it meant something was going to happen to one of her patients pretty soon.
It was close to the time Mama would bring a patient home, and the whole thing filled Rufus with fear. If only he had a way out, away from Mama. He loved her, and she loved him and treated him good. Except when she made him put her patients in the bog.
He’d lost his appetite and hadn’t eaten the sandwiches Mama left for his late-night snack. It was the first thing she noticed when she opened the refrigerator that morning. “Rufus, are you ill, coming down with something?”
“I don’t feel so good, Mama.”
She put her arms around him and held him a while. “There, there. You’ll feel better when our patient is sent on her heavenly journey, won’t you?”
“Yes, Mama.”
25
Randolph nodded at Smoke and me, clicked the speaker on his phone, and dialed Erley’s number.
After brief introductions, Smoke got down to business. “Special Agent Erley, when we talked yesterday, I gave you a quick rundown of what we’ve got going on here in Winnebago County. To recap, the body of an elderly woman was accidentally recovered from a bog during a road construction project. An angel had been branded into her forehead and crosses were branded into the back of each wrist, post-mortem.
“On further investigation, while looking for artifacts that might help identify her, we found another body with the same markings. That prompted us to continue our search and we found five more. All branded with the same symbols. But no other signs they had been physically abused.
“The medical examiner’s office has completed three autopsies but has not found a definitive cause of death, so the manner stands as undetermined in all three at this point.” Smoke said.
“There is no question of foul play regarding those bodies. Undetermined is the worst ruling for investigators working a case when you suspect it’s a homicide, to be sure.” Erley said. His voice was clean and clear.
“You got that right. Our question is, where do we start looking for the perpetrator? We have an idea of what would motivate a person, or persons, to do something so bizarre, but we’d appreciate your expert opinion,” Smoke said.
“This is the first I’ve heard of an angel of mercy—or angel of death—that actually branded his or her victims. That adds another layer to this.”
“A disturbing one,” I said.
“Yes. Angel of mercy serial killings are rare. Still, there’ve been over forty documented cases in the U.S. alone since nineteen-seventy. The offender decides the victim is no longer a contributing member of society and needs to die. Or the victim is suffering from an illness, or disease, and should be released from his misery.
“There are varying elements in the profiles for these killers, but they share the commonality, almost always, of being employed in a hospital or other care facility where they have easy access to their chosen victims. They may be doctors, nurses, aides, or a custodian.”
“Custodian, really?” Smoke said.
“Yes, but that’s the exception. In the case you’re working, victims were found outside of a facility. In fact, in a bog. That’s significant. The victims’ identities have not been confirmed, but you have a degree of confidence that three of them were from your county and went missing over the last four years. All had dementia. Two lived in assisted living facilities and one was still in his home, receiving care there. There are three more reported missing from neighboring counties and the oldest case goes back seven years,” Erley said.
“Correct,” Smoke said.
“You also told me that you’d gotten a list of employees from the assisted living facilities during the time frames two of them disappeared, and from the healthcare agency that the Petty family used.”
“Correct. We did not find anyone that had worked at all three places,” Smoke said.
“Unless that person used different identities and worked at the facilities at a time other than when the victims disappeared,” Erley suggested.
“Hmm. Something to consider. We’ll expand the scope of the investigation. So who are we looking for?” Randolph said.
“A person who had a dysfunctional childhood with a controlling, emotionally abusive parent, like
ly the father. Felt inadequate. Although most serial killers are male, when it comes to healthcare serial killers, about half are female. He or she did not form strong emotional bonds, was socially isolated. Craved attention and love but not given much. Didn’t learn what constituted a healthy relationship. Likely had an inappropriate, harmful relationship as an older teen or young adult, that led to further isolation.
“Chose a career as a caregiver to satisfy the longing of being needed by others, loved by them. The more, the better. Then something major happened that caused a psychotic break. It led to the delusion she had been given divine authority to end the suffering of those she deemed had a diminished quality of life. A new calling of sending people to a better place. The angel and crosses indicate that place is Heaven where there is no suffering. I’d say the break happened in the month of May, given that’s when your people went missing. Why the offender disposed of the bodies in a bog is an unknown, and I can only speculate,” Erley said.
I cleared my throat. “I read about different reasons people were buried in bogs in past centuries. For thousands of years, many considered bogs spiritual places and some killings were thought to be done as sacrificial offerings. Others were buried there because of their criminal acts, or suicide. Different things prevented people from being buried in what they considered was the consecrated ground in cemeteries. Different trains of thought. Others were put in bogs after they’d been murdered. Killers did it to cover their crimes by burying the evidence.”
“After Detective Dawes phoned me, I did some research on bogs myself since it’s the first case I’ve been brought into where victims were found in a bog. As I said, I can mostly speculate on the significance. The religious symbols branded on the victims led me to believe the offender was either offering them as sacrifices or buried them in what he or she thought was sacred ground,” Erley said.
Remains In Coyote Bog Page 14
