Remains In Coyote Bog

by Christine Husom

  Another exercise in futility, and his anxiety had climbed. I wanted to confiscate Edberg’s phone, tell him that trying Wiley’s and Reed’s numbers was making him more anxious. On the other hand, he was doing something when doing nothing felt worse.

  Weber reported back. “Two neighbors were home. One didn’t see nothinˊ and the one you called out, Bob, spotted a gray Camry leaving your driveway around fourteen hundred.” One hour and thirty-eight minutes before. “Neighbor Jim didn’t have a real good view, what with the sun in his eyes, but it looked to him like a woman was driving. Didn’t notice anyone else in the car. Didn’t see your mother outside before the car left.”

  “Was my mother in the car or not?” Edberg puffed out an exasperated, “huh.”

  “He coulda just missed seeing her,” Weber said.

  “Or, let’s look at another possibility: Wiley left early. Would your mother have gone outside alone?” Smoke said.

  “Not likely. She isn’t very mobile. Her rheumatoid arthritis makes it painful for her to walk. But I know people with dementia sometimes wander. Like I said, I took a quick look out there, but we should do a better search to make sure she’s not here.”

  “Sure, let’s do that,” Smoke said.

  “Vince, appreciate you staying late, helping out, but we’re covered here so you can go on home,” Randolph said.

  Weber nodded. “Holler if you need me.”

  The five of us trooped outside. Weber took off and Edberg assigned the rest of us a section to check. I had the backyard where the mowed grass ended at the lake. With no beach, tall reeds grew several feet out from the shoreline. I walked about a hundred feet one way, turned around, and covered about the same distance the opposite way. I closely examined the lake’s bank and the plants growing out from it. No disturbance, no sign anyone had entered the water from Edberg’s yard, or from the neighbors’ yards on either side of him.

  I stepped backward up the lawn from the lake for a broader view, scouting the rest of the shoreline. The tops of the reeds swayed back and forth in the breeze. Nothing appeared amiss. I turned to face Edberg’s house and searched for anything out of the ordinary, like a thread from a piece of clothing caught on a low-hanging tree branch. Anything that would indicate Mrs. Edberg was out there. But spotted nothing.

  We met back in Bob’s living room to compare notes. Our silence was the unspoken word none of us had found a sign Mrs. Edberg had wandered outside. “Bob, if it’s any consolation, there’s no indication your mother fell in the lake.” I left out the words and drowned.

  Edberg’s jaw clenched as he gave a single nod. “I’ll try their numbers again.”

  My phone rang before he had the chance. Communications. “Sergeant Aleckson. . . . Where? . . . Thanks, Robin, we’ll head down there.” I disconnected and smiled. “Wiley’s phone pinged in Bison Park, downtown Oak Lea.”

  “We’re on it,” Smoke said.

  “Bob, you ride with me,” Randolph said.

  We were in our vehicles in seconds and left the personnel files for later. Smoke and Randolph activated the emergency light bars in their rear windows, then killed them when we got close to the park. I phoned Edberg, relayed they should take the park’s north entrance, and we’d go in on the east side, in case Wiley was on her way out.

  On the warm, sunny Saturday afternoon, scores of people were there, making the most of the near-perfect weather. Kids giggled and romped on playground equipment, groups sat around tables and on benches, teens tossed frisbees and balls. Walkers filled the pathway that ran along Bison Lake. Normal people engaged in normal activities. But the one we sought was not normal, by any definition, or stretch of the imagination.

  “Jiminy, this is gonna be fun,” Smoke said.

  The main parking lot was nearly full. We parked in one of the few available spots, and Randolph found another. Smoke and I met them at his car. “Four of us walking around with guns and badges is going to get people’s attention, put them on watch. And Edberg’s uniform adds an extra alert,” Randolph said.

  “Might be a good way to flush her out. If she sees Bob, she’s sure to run. Then we’ll sic Corky on her. Out of the four of us, she’s the best bet to catch her,” Smoke said.

  We took a minute to survey the crowds, searching for our suspect.

  “When I saw her this morning, she was wearing scrubs. Light blue,” Edberg said.

  “I don’t spot anyone in blue scrubs,” I said.

  “No. But there’s a lot of people here,” Smoke said.

  “Sergeant, why don’t you start in the restroom down below and check the lower pavilion. Detective, the upper pavilion and down toward the lake. Bob, you and I can walk around together, see if we spot her,” Randolph said.

  Ten minutes of effort, and all we got were curious looks and questions from people who wondered why we were there. But no sign of Jasmine Wiley. We headed back to Randolph’s car. “We tried calling her number once in here, let’s give it another try,” Randolph said.

  When we heard a faint ringing, I think all of us held our breaths for a better listen. I surely did. We spread out a bit and headed in the direction of the sound. It stopped ringing so Bob dialed again. We were within fifteen feet of the upper pavilion where at least twenty people gathered, but not one of them dug for a phone. As we closed in, we discovered the reason. The ringing came from inside a garbage container. “Damn,” Edberg muttered.

  “At least she left the phone on so we could find it,” Randolph said.

  “I guess,” he replied.

  “Bob, you got a glove in your pouch?” Smoke said. Every deputy carried a pouch on his or her duty belt with about ten protective gloves stuffed inside.

  He fished one out and handed it to Smoke who put it on. We turned the container on its side for better access. I squatted down with Smoke and peered inside. He felt around until he located a brown bag with the phone inside. He stood up, reached in the bag for the phone, then held it in his palm.

  A couple walked by and darted interested looks our way, quietly exchanging words.

  Randolph righted the garbage container. “Let’s get back to our cars. I’ll let Communications know they can drop the search on this number.”

  “Pop the trunk and I’ll grab an evidence bag,” I told Smoke.

  I found one in his storage case and he dropped the phone inside. “We’ll check incoming and outgoing numbers then turn the phone over to our lab for a forensic investigation,” he said.

  “Why don’t I ask the folks in the pavilion if they saw our suspect. If someone did, it’d help establish a timeline of when she was here,” I said.

  “Sure,” Randolph said.

  After going from table to table with no luck I threw in the towel. None of them had been there longer than thirty minutes, and no one noticed a woman in light blue scrubs by the pavilion.

  When I gave the team my report, Smoke said, “Watching all the head shaking when you were talking to them, I figured as much.”

  Edberg kept his voice low and I had to strain to hear him. “I won’t sleep until we find that evil devil.”

  34

  Mama and Rufus

  Mama carried in a box and handed it to Rufus. “This has been a fine day, Son. It proves we’re on the right mission. Our patient’s son put three new clocks in his house and thought I wouldn’t notice. I figured they had to be cameras. What else would they be? No one gets three new clocks at the same time.”

  Rufus scratched his head. “Cameras?”

  “To videotape people. They have them in daycare facilities and other places to check on attendants, making sure they’re taking good care of those who need it. Of course, I always treat my patients very well.”

  “I know, Mama.”

  “This patient keeps talking about someone taking her things. I don’t know if others did that or not. I never did, not until today. After I disconnected the cameras.”

  “Mama, maybe you shouldn’t have taken the cameras at all.”


  “Rufus, don’t you see? I had to. Otherwise they would’ve seen the patient leave with me. They don’t know who I am, but still.”

  “Okay.”

  Mama smiled. “And I did something to keep them busy, in case they found out what my other cell phone number was.”

  Rufus didn’t want to know but asked anyway, “What is that?”

  “I hid it in a public park. That should keep them looking for a long time.”

  35

  It was 4:40 when we gathered back at Bob Edberg’s. I collected the files of our prime suspect in her variety of guises from the table.

  “Why haven’t we heard back from the answering service? It’s been well over an hour,” Randolph said. “What’s the number, Bob?” He punched in each one as Bob recited them and then hit the speaker button.

  “Senior Home Care.” The female who answered sounded like she was fifteen.

  “It’s Chief Deputy Randolph, Winnebago County Sheriff’s Office. We’ve waited way too long for someone to get back to us. What’s going on?”

  “Oh! I’m sorry. My shift just started at four-thirty, and I have a note to try the administrator again. The one on the shift before me left her a message but didn’t hear back.”

  “I’ll need that phone number.”

  “Oh! I guess that’ll be okay. I don’t know why she hasn’t called back. She always does, like right away.” All four of us recorded the name and number she gave on our memo pads.

  When Randolph disconnected, he dialed the administrator’s number and left a curt message. He pushed the end button with extra force. “What kind of a business is she running anyway? Her office is closed on weekends and that’s when things always seem to go south. She’s got to have a reliable way for people to reach her.” He gave the tops of his thighs loud slaps.

  Edberg’s face was pale and strained. “We have to find my mother.”

  Randolph nodded. “Change out of your uniform and meet us at the office, Bob. We’ll check Wiley’s phone, have it interrogated for deleted calls and messages—”

  Randolph’s ringing phone interrupted. He looked at the face and walked some feet away. “Mike. How are you doing? . . . I guess the good news is, it shows Jaxson doesn’t want to get his friends in trouble by asking for their help. . . . It’s got to be about impossible for you to deal with this. . . . Mike, shifting gears, you should know what else we’ve got.” Randolph gave the sheriff an abbreviated version of Edberg’s mother’s disappearance and that we’d launched an investigation. He left out details about the suspect.

  After listening to Kenner for a moment, Randolph said, “Hang in there. Call if you need anything, okay? Later,” and disconnected. “Sheriff and his wife got in touch with every one of Jaxson’s friends and not a one has heard from him. Sheriff said he’d pray for your mother’s safe return, Bob.”

  Edberg looked down and nodded.

  A father and mother with a son out there somewhere. A son with a mother out there somewhere held by someone with depraved intentions. Nightmares that our friends were living, breathing every minute. We’d do everything in our power to find Jaxson and Mrs. Edberg before either of them came to further harm.

  Randolph, Edberg, and I hovered around Smoke’s desk and watched him push buttons. Mrs. Edberg had been gone over three hours. “Jasmine Wiley had this phone for one purpose only. To get calls from Senior Home Care. And they go back just two months. She only called in once,” Smoke said.

  “That’s about the first time I met her, two months ago,” Edberg said.

  “What about Melody Reed? How long has she been coming to your home?” I asked.

  “Hasn’t been quite that long, maybe six weeks.”

  “Two recent hires,” Randolph added.

  Smoke’s phone buzzed and he raised his eyebrows. “It’s the M.E.” He answered and pushed the speaker button. “Detective Dawes.”

  “Detective, Bridey Patrick.” The chief medical examiner herself. On a Saturday.

  “Doc. You have news?”

  “Yes.”

  “I put you on speaker phone so Chief Deputy Randolph, Sergeant Aleckson, and Deputy Edberg can hear what you’ve got for us.”

  “That’s fine. Those of us here at the office can appreciate what the families you’re working with are going through while they await answers. So do the scientists in the lab. We completed the three autopsies this morning and the lab was able to positively identify all three victims.”

  We wouldn’t have to wait until Monday. I uttered a silent prayer of thanks, knowing who they were before Dr. Patrick recited their names. “Oscar Wright, Agneta Keats, and Silas Petty.”

  When Smoke bowed his head, it started a chain reaction and the rest of us followed suit. Three more families would have the closure they’d sought for a year or more.

  Patrick raised her voice’s volume. “Are you there, Detective?”

  Smoke cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, we’re here. You delivered a humdinger of a message and it needed to sink in.”

  “I can understand that. We search for answers, all of us who work for victims and their families. That’s what makes us so diligent. Sadly, we don’t always find all the answers we want. In these cases, since the victims’ family members were available, we got the matches we hoped for. Very rewarding to identify the victims.” She paused. “With the exception of John Doe number two, of course. Any leads on his identity, Detective?”

  “We have one possibility, a man reported missing six years ago in Blue Earth County. We’ll check that out first, get a photo from their sheriff’s office for comparison. If he looks like the victim, we’ll take it from there. If not, we’ll get an image of John Doe Two to the media outlets in our county, along with the surrounding ones. The sheriff’s office can post it on our social media sites. If need be, we’ll expand to the metro news channels.”

  “It sounds like you’ve thought this through, Detective. We have photos, of course.”

  “It’s fine to send them to the Blue Earth Sheriff, but we don’t want to post the originals for the public. We’ll need a computer-generated image for that.”

  “I’ll have the lab take care of that. We’ll be ready to release the bodies early next week and will need the names of the funeral homes the families will be working with,” Patrick said.

  “Sure. We’ll try to take care of that tomorrow. Right now, we’re in the middle of something that’s taken top priority.”

  Edberg let out a loud gasp. I moved behind him, put my hands on his shoulders, tightened my grip for a moment, and stepped away when he nodded. A signal he was okay. I knew as well as he did, he was not even a little bit okay.

  “I’ll let you get back to work,” Patrick said.

  “Thanks, Doc. For all you do. And how well you do it.”

  Patrick made a short giggle-like sound. “Thank you, Detective. Goodbye.” She ended the call.

  Bridey Patrick had a crush on Smoke and it bubbled to the surface every once in a while. Had she known Bob Edberg was in crisis over his mother’s disappearance, I think she would have stifled her instinctive reaction.

  “That’s what we’ve waited for. Their identities. Sad news for three families, but a big relief at the same time.” Smoke looked at Edberg. “I think you know this, but for all of us in the sheriff’s office, nothing is more urgent than finding your mother.”

  Along with her wicked abductor. Abductors.

  Randolph finally got a call from the Senior Home Care administrator, Courtney Wade. He clicked on the speaker feature.

  Wade spoke with an authoritative voice. “Chief Deputy Randolph, my sincere apologies for the delay in returning your call. We’ve been out on our pontoon this afternoon and I didn’t realize I’d forgotten my phone in the car. Not until I got back to it.”

  “We have a grave situation here and need the addresses for both Jasmine Wiley and Melody Reed,” Randolph said.

  “Sorry, I don’t know them offhand. They’re in the personnel files.”
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  “We’ll meet you at your office and have a look at those files, with your permission,” Randolph said.

  “You think they were involved in something criminal?”

  “It looks that way. How soon can you get to your office?”

  “Umm, fifteen minutes? I’m in Emerald Lake now,” Wade said.

  “We’ll see you there.” Randolph looked from Smoke to me. “You two are the best versed on the suspect. This whole investigation, really. You know where Senior Home Care is, right?”

  “Sure,” Smoke said.

  Courtney Wade waited for us outside the large brick building that housed several businesses, in addition to the one she ran. Wade was in her forties, and under her no-nonsense demeanor, it seemed she liked to relax and have fun. Or she wouldn’t have spent the afternoon floating around on a boat.

  Smoke and I introduced ourselves, then Wade escorted us to her office.

  “Your chief deputy was vague about what’s going on, but my answering service staff said that Jasmine Wiley was not at the Edberg home when Emma’s son arrived home this afternoon, and his mother was not there, either. That she’s missing.”

  “Correct. We have reason to believe Wiley may intend to harm Missus Edberg,” Smoke said.

  “Whatever would make you think that?”

  “Convincing evidence has come to light that indicates she’s done it before. More than once,” I said.

  Wade’s skin blanched. “Her background is clean, her references all positive.”

  “She’s been living a lie, deceiving employers and other people for years,” I said.

  “Our clients love her. She takes wonderful care of them,” Wade said.

  “All part of her deception. If you’ll find her file, along with Melody Reed’s, we need to have a look,” Smoke said.

  “You think Jasmine and Melody are working together?”

  “We think they are the same person.”