by C. J. Box
“But what I can promise,” Cassie said, “is that my report on the evidence and investigation will be truthful and honest even if it doesn’t help Mr. Kleinsasser’s defense. My job here is to cross the t’s and dot the i’s of the record. I’d like nothing more than to report back to my client that the investigation was sound and by the book and that the evidence is rock-solid.”
Wagy looked skeptical. “Can you tell me with a straight face that you’re not starting this thing from the standpoint that Blake is innocent?”
“I’m not.”
“Good,” Wagy said. “Because he’s guilty as hell. And he’s also an asshole.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Your employer—what is her name?”
“Rachel Mitchell of Mitchell-Estrella.”
“Ah,” Wagy said with a knowing smirk. “The crusading Bozeman female activists. I’ve heard of them.”
Cassie ignored Wagy again. She wondered if he was trying to provoke her into saying something that would prove to him that she wasn’t playing it straight.
“I’ve read the arrest report and it looks very cut-and-dried,” she said. “Were there ever any credible suspects in the assault besides Blake Kleinsasser?”
“Nada,” Wagy said. “And not because we were out to get him. I know the history of that family in this valley—everybody does. I know there was bad blood between Blake and the rest of the family. But I don’t work for the Kleinsassers. I work for the people of Lochsa County, even those who didn’t vote for me.
“When Franny was brought in here with her story we didn’t jump to conclusions even though she clearly named Blake as the perp. We got her statement and went through proper procedure. Are you familiar with a Christmas tree test?”
“Yes.”
It was a fairly simple and accurate DNA test that could be done on-site by law enforcement personnel. Acid phosphatase applied to an alleged semen sample under a microscope made the heads of sperm appear red and the tails green.
“Of course,” Wagy said, “the Christmas tree test just confirmed that there was semen in her panties. It doesn’t identify who put it there. That came later after we arrested Blake and swabbed him. We drove the samples to the crime lab in Missoula and they came back with a perfect match.”
“Did Blake deny it to you?” Cassie asked.
“He sure did. But every part of Franny’s story was corroborated. From the witnesses at the church who saw Blake pick her up to the old cabin out on the ranch. If you’ve read the charging documents you already know all of this.”
Cassie nodded. “I don’t remember reading who brought Franny in to you. I’m not sure that was in the file.”
“Her mother and her uncle brought her in that night,” Wagy said. “Franny had to walk all the way back to the ranch headquarters in the dark after being assaulted. She told them what happened and they brought her here.”
“Which uncle?”
“John Wayne.”
“Thank you.”
Cassie entered the new detail into her notebook.
“Was her statement taken that night?” she asked.
“Nah, just a preliminary statement. The official statement was taken the next day. That’s the one that you read, I’ll guess.”
Cassie flipped through her file and noted that the statement was indeed dated the day after the assault.
She said, “So the uncle and mother brought Franny here instead of asking you or your officers to go out to the ranch.”
“That’s what I said.”
Cassie jotted it down and looked up. “Were you working late that night and you just happened to be here?”
Wagy narrowed his eyes. “Dispatch called me at home to meet the reporting parties here so I came in. I don’t sit on my ass in this office twenty-four-seven, but when a serious allegation is made I drop everything and show up. That’s my job. Are you suggesting something here?”
“Not at all,” Cassie said. “I’m just trying to get the time line straight in my notes.”
Wagy didn’t comment. She could tell she was losing him as a cooperative subject.
“How would you describe Franny’s state of mind when she came in?”
“I’m no shrink,” Wagy said, “but I’d say she was pretty upset. Distraught, crying, that kind of thing. I did my best to make her comfortable. Sometimes sexual assault victims blame themselves so I didn’t want to add to that in any way. I called in one of my deputies who is a girl to do the test.”
Girl.
“How would you describe the state of mind of Fanny’s mother and uncle?” Cassie asked. She studied Wagy’s face when he answered.
“How do you think?” he said. “Cheyenne was on the edge of hysterical. She’s a strange bird, but I thought she might lose it any minute. Imagine having to go through that with your only daughter.”
“I understand,” Cassie said.
“John Wayne wanted to find Blake and blow his head off,” Wagy said. “I was able to calm him down, but I had no doubt he’d do what he said he’d do. That’s one reason we moved on Blake right away and found his car at the motel and arrested him in that room. It was for Blake’s safety as much as anything.”
“Did you contact the press to be there for the arrest?” Cassie asked. “I saw video clips of it on the internet.”
Wagy bristled. “Are you accusing me of grandstanding?”
“Not at all,” Cassie said again. Wagy was much more thin-skinned than she thought he’d be.
“No, somebody must have tipped them,” Wagy said. “There’s always a concerned citizen or two listening to their police scanner. That’s probably why they were there. My guess is the word was out about the assault even though we were trying to keep it under wraps. This is a small town with lots of gossips in it, and, you know, the Kleinsasser name gets everyone’s attention.”
“I can imagine it does,” Cassie said.
Wagy made a show of looking at his watch. It was a signal to Cassie that the interview was about to conclude.
“Another state of mind question,” Cassie said. “What about Blake? How did he react when you arrested him?”
“Are you asking if he proclaimed his innocence?” Wagy asked with a cold grin.
“Yes.”
“Of course he did. He said he didn’t have any idea why we were there. And then he turned into the asshole that he is. He started throwing his weight around and said his lawyers would have him out of jail by the next morning and that he was going to sue me and the county. He blamed his brothers and his dad for everything.”
Wagy said, “He was inebriated. Drunker than hell, and he smelled like he hadn’t had a bath in a while. It was a real pleasure throwing him into our vintage slammer. I’m sure you’ve seen our jail.”
“I have.”
“It’s a real jail,” Wagy said. “Not like one of those cushy country club motel rooms some counties have. When you’re in there and that steel door closes behind you you know you’re actually in jail. That was the first time I think Blake actually took it seriously. He sobered up in record time. And he thought he could talk his way out of it all the way up to the preliminary hearing. You’ve met him, right?”
“Just yesterday,” Cassie answered.
“He’s a piece of work, isn’t he?”
“How do you mean?”
“Such an arrogant prick,” the sheriff said. “He thinks he’s better than everybody around here—that he can talk his smooth New York bullshit and do whatever he wants. He’s always been like that.”
“So, you’ve known him a long time?” Cassie asked.
Wagy caught himself and sat back. He didn’t want to respond. Cassie found that interesting.
“I think we’re done,” he said.
“I’d like to request a copy of the DNA report from Missoula,” she said. “We’ve got the Christmas tree test but not the match. And I’ll probably have additional questions. Can I meet with you again before I go back?”
&n
bsp; “Set up an appointment,” Wagy said.
“What about the DNA match?”
Wagy sighed theatrically and reached for his hat. He was in a hurry to get to his make-believe meeting.
“I’ll authorize Linda to pull the documents and make copies,” he said. “We do charge for them, though. I hope your employer will reimburse you twenty-five cents a copy.”
“Thank you,” Cassie said, standing up. “I’d also like to review the physical evidence. You know, so we can compare the items to the list submitted to the court.”
Wagy squinted. “You want to handle the evidence? Sorry, no can do.”
“Not handle it,” Cassie said. “Sheriff, I know how this works. I’d never dream of contaminating evidence. I simply want to photograph the items with my cell phone camera so Rachel has a record of everything. I anticipate that she’ll show the photos to Blake in an effort to persuade him the case against him is as solid as it appears.”
Wagy glared at her, obviously suspicious of her request.
“You can view it,” he said finally. “But only with my people standing right there with you. And if you reach for anything I swear I’ll arrest you for tampering with evidence and you’ll get to see our jail from the inside out. Just like Blake did.”
“I understand,” Cassie said.
“We’ve got nothing to hide from the defense,” Wagy said. “My office is totally transparent. We’re an open book.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you and thank you for your cooperation and time,” Cassie said, extending her hand.
“Wish I could say the same,” Wagy said with a smile that could be taken either way. “I guess you’ll be headed back to Bozeman later today.”
“Not quite yet,” Cassie said. “I’ve got to talk to a couple of people.”
“And then you’ll be gone.” It was a statement more than a question. Cassie didn’t respond.
Then he ushered Cassie out of his office and with a few words to Murdock en route he went down the hallway toward the parking lot jingling his keys.
That left Cassie and Linda Murdock together in the squad room.
Murdock said, “What he didn’t want to tell you is that he has coffee with the city fathers every morning. He rarely misses it.”
That accounted for the discrepancy, Cassie thought.
“The sheriff asked me to make some copies for you and escort you to the evidence room,” Murdock said.
“Thank you.”
“Follow me.”
*
Cassie hoped that Murdock would turn out to be a potentially valuable asset within the Lochsa County Sheriff’s Department. Not that she expected Murdock to turn on her boss, but the administrative assistant was a breed Cassie was familiar with from working in other law enforcement departments: the key civilian who knew how things worked and where the bodies were buried.
Murdock was the heart and brains of the organization, the staffer who quietly did her job and observed the goings-on around her while various deputies and sheriffs came and went. She had the institutional memory of the organization and was rarely given credit for it. Cassie had gleaned more inside knowledge and intelligence from stalwarts like Linda Murdock over the years than from elected sheriffs or assigned chiefs of police.
“Is the sheriff hostile to all women or just me?” Cassie asked Murdock as the administrative assistant fed the forensics documents through the copier.
Murdock said, “Oh, you noticed?”
“It was hard not to.”
“I don’t mind getting coffee for him once in a while. It makes him feel important.”
“It rankled me.”
“I honestly think he doesn’t even realize it,” Murdock said.
“That’s kind of you,” Cassie said with a smile.
“My husband’s on disability. I need the job.”
“I understand.”
Cassie added the DNA reports to her folder. Murdock dutifully copied all of the photos and documents in the case file even though Cassie recognized many of them as items they already had. She was grateful for Murdock’s thoroughness.
It was always better to have too much documentation, including duplicates, than not enough. Plus, from the standpoint of the defense, if exculpatory evidence was withheld twice it showed malice on behalf of the prosecution and not simply a procedural error.
“How much do I owe you?” Cassie asked when the task was complete.
Murdock waved her off. “Don’t worry about it.”
*
Cassie followed her down a hallway toward the evidence locker in the back of the building. Over her shoulder, Murdock asked, “Did he give you the line that he doesn’t work for the Kleinsassers? That he works for the people of Lochsa County?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Don’t believe it,” Murdock said. “Between you and me, he answers to them. All of the electeds around here do. The school board was independent for a few years but even that’s back to the point where every board member owes their office to the family.”
Cassie nodded that she understood. Rachel would no doubt find that information intriguing.
*
A large older man in a deputy uniform sat at a desk in front of the secured evidence locker. He had a sweeping white mustache and jowls and he reminded Cassie of a walrus. He was in the process of hanging up the phone.
“Just talked to the sheriff,” he said as Murdock and Cassie approached. “He said you were here to look at the Blake Kleinsasser box but only to photograph the items.”
Cassie nodded.
The deputy turned to Murdock. “Are you going to sign it out?”
“Yes.”
“Give me a minute,” the deputy said as he pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves. “I’ll be right out.”
Cassie watched as the deputy rose, turned, and used a set of keys attached to his belt to unlock a pair of heavy locks on the chain-link door behind him. He had a pronounced limp and his movements were stiff. Cassie guessed that he was a longtime LEO who’d been assigned to an easy desk job until retirement rolled around. It was one of the remaining perks of every bureaucracy that no longer existed in the private sector, where seniority counted more than usefulness. She’d seen examples of it in every department she’d ever worked for.
The evidence room was crammed with metal shelving. On the shelves were boxes marked with the names of the investigations they corresponded with. Along the back wall was a large cabinet filled with long guns and other weapons including a samurai sword and a chain saw. Every item was tagged and marked.
The deputy emerged and placed a large white legal box on a table beside his desk. It was marked kleinsasser, blake.
Before he cut through the sealing tape with a box cutter, he turned to Cassie. She knew that it would be resealed and marked when they were done and the record of it being opened was to be signed by Murdock and date-stamped by the deputy.
“Stand back.”
Cassie took a step backwards. As she did she felt the vibration of an incoming text from her phone in her pocket. She glanced at it quickly. It was from Ben.
Call me when U can.
She pocketed the device.
*
The deputy sliced through the tape and removed the items one by one. He made it a point to make sure the evidence number on each tag was clearly visible. Cassie recognized all of the items from the evidence list as she photographed them, including:
• The largest item, a cast of tire tracks found on the dirt road outside the house on the ranch where the assault took place. It allegedly matched the tread from Blake’s rental car.
• Individual fingerprint cards in glassine envelopes identifying both Blake’s and Franny’s prints.
• Empty and half-full liquor bottles that had been found in the rental car, the structure on the ranch, and Blake’s motel room were placed in a row on the table.
• Two smudged glasses in Ziploc bags, which the deputy put on the table in front of the
bottles. Cassie recognized them as the glasses from the ranch house with both Blake’s and Franny’s fingerprints and DNA on them. They were heavy cocktail glasses as opposed to drinking glasses.
• Thumb drives of closed-circuit video in clear plastic sleeves placing Blake at the Corvallis and Hayloft bars prior to the assault.
In all, Cassie thought, the accumulation of physical evidence was overwhelming. She took several shots of the entire table to emphasize that fact.
“Got it all?” the deputy asked her.
Cassie nodded but then paused. “Is this all the evidence?”
“How much more do you want?” the deputy said with a laugh.
“I was hoping her phone would be in there.”
The deputy checked his sheet again and shrugged. “No phone,” he said.
“Where is her underwear?”
Murdock looked up in alarm. The deputy shrugged. “I’m guessing they’re still at the lab in Missoula. They probably haven’t sent them back yet.”
“But you don’t know for sure?” Cassie asked.
The deputy reddened, but walked over to his desk to review the list of exhibits associated with the box. It took him minutes to check each item by pointing a stubby fingertip on the list and then visually checking each exhibit on the table.
Finally, he said without confidence, “That has to be what happened. The lab hasn’t sent them back yet.”
“Could you confirm that and let me know?” Cassie asked. She knew her tone was strident.
“I’ll check with the sheriff,” the deputy said without meeting her eyes.
When Cassie looked over to Murdock she noted that the woman seemed poised to add something. Instead, she remained silent.
*
“That might be a problem,” Cassie said as she followed Murdock back toward the front of the department.
“It’s probably nothing,” Murdock said without conviction. “Mistakes happen. Things get misfiled or lost in the mail. I’m sure the evidence will be located. The sheriff is a stickler about that kind of thing.”
Cassie nodded. Then asked, “It looked like you were about to say something back there. Is there anything else?”
“No,” Murdock said. “Nothing else.”
Cassie gave Murdock her card. “My cell phone number is on there and so is my email address. Feel free at any time to contact me.”
