She moved slowly through the images, staring at the rooms of the cabin. A bare-bones kitchen with a single bulb hanging from the center of the room over a table with one chair. A filthy bathroom with a cup that held seven toothbrushes and a single towel hanging over a bare curtain rod. A small bedroom with a single bed, the covers on the floor, as though Hudson had just risen from sleep.
The hardest images to look at were ones that captured a room with five child-size mattresses lined along the floor. Most were bare. One was made up, almost as though it had been vacated, and another had a pile of blankets where perhaps the girls had slept together, huddled to stay warm. The thought of it made her simultaneously sick and furious.
Later images showed the outside of the cabin, the surrounding woods, and the gravel driveway with police tape hung between two wood stakes where the drive met with a gravel road. There were no other cabins in sight, but a small group had gathered just outside the tape. Adults hung back and watched. A few children were scattered among the pictures, peering into the police vehicles or playing nearby as though the whole thing were some sort of parade rather than the scene of a murder.
A man in a gray suit stood with a notepad, talking to people. Several police officers were also visible. They seemed to be making rounds, notepads in hand, talking to the crowd. Looking for witnesses or people who had known Hudson.
She went through the images a second time, but nothing stood out to her. Seeing them hadn’t solved any puzzles. And why was she surprised? If there had been something to find there, the FBI would have found it a decade ago.
She still needed to talk to Lily Baker, though she wasn’t sure how best to approach her. Away from Iver Larson. Vogel and Davis had given the green light for Skål to open tonight, so Larson would be at the bar. Maybe Kylie could talk to Baker then.
As she started to make a list of questions for Baker, her cell phone rang on her desk, a number she didn’t recognize.
“Detective Milliard,” she said.
“Detective, this is Pete McIntosh over in Glendive.”
Something about the way he said his first name made her uneasy. He had news, and she guessed it wasn’t good. She cracked her knuckles and waited.
“We found Hitchcock,” he said.
She sat up straighter. “You did.”
“Her body was dumped in Sunset Park, right outside town. Some locals found it this morning while they were out snowshoeing.”
Damn. “Any idea on time of death?”
“Her car was towed from the Walmart in Miles City on the fifth. There were two warnings on it by then, dating back to the third, so seems likely she was already dead then. But we can’t say for sure. The body was frozen solid, and this time of year, there aren’t a lot of visitors to the park. We had the remains expedited to Bismarck this morning. The state ME has it flagged high priority, so they’re going to try to get us some initial findings in the next day.”
That the ME had made the case a high priority meant that the office recognized the possible implications of the two dead women, the kidnapping victims of a man who had supposedly died ten years ago. “Any idea on cause of death?”
“Quick blood work by our coroner showed there were drugs involved, but it also looked like she was strangled. But that’s not official yet.”
“What about cameras at the Walmart?”
“We’re working to get store footage,” he told her. “I’ll share anything we find.”
Kylie thanked him and hung up. Then she sent a quick email to Davis and Vogel to let them know about Hitchcock. Her hands felt slightly electric with the buzz of discovery. She glanced at the calendar. Today was January 8, which meant if Jenna Hitchcock had been killed on the third when her car was first ticketed, then the killer had likely made his way from Glendive to Hagen in the past five days.
That gave her an idea. The killer would have come to Hagen along Highway 1804. About ten miles out that road lived a man named Alvin Tanner, a particularly unstable conspiracy theorist who believed the government was going to show up one day and take away his land. Tanner had lined his house and the surrounding areas with cameras for protection.
As he was outside her jurisdiction, Tanner had only come onto her radar when Vogel had gotten a warrant for the footage to bust a company that was dumping fracking water out that way. Surely the footage could be used to identify drivers coming into Hagen, too. Over the course of a week, Highway 1804 might have carried as many as two or three hundred cars, but with a little work, she could narrow down the suspects. She logged into her police records system and started digging.
It didn’t take long. Within an hour, she had enough dirt on Alvin Tanner to barter for the footage without having to go through Vogel. Cracking her knuckles, she dialed Will Merkel last. It wouldn’t hurt to have a highway patrol officer with her, for the company if nothing else.
As she headed out of the department, she imagined the response if she could pull footage of the killer driving into Hagen, smiling at the camera as he passed. Case closed, their killer caught, and Kylie could write herself a ticket to that detective job in Fargo.
CHAPTER 27
LILY
Lily Baker lay in bed, her heart racing. For a moment, she felt like she was still in the forest, surrounded by cold air, her pulse a jackrabbit in her chest. Her hands smoothed the white sheets as her mind tried to make sense of it. Out her bedroom window, the sky still glowed bright with daylight. The darkness, the woods, the blood—all gone. A dream, but not a dream.
She fought to gather the pieces of the memory. She and Abby had been in the house—in this house—drinking and dancing. There had been pills, and then she remembered the bar. But not inside. Abby had led her into the woods near Skål. And then there had been a man. She couldn’t picture his face. Had she seen him? She squeezed her eyes shut and felt her heart racing, remembered running.
Tree branches slapped at her neck and arms, stung against the cold of her skin. Running and running. And then she reached the clearing. Breathless, alone, she sprinted to the street, the bag on her back heavy as it bounced across her kidneys. Up ahead, a black car. For a moment, it looked like a police car, and she screamed out and ran straight toward it. Slipped on the curb and twisted her ankle as she hurled herself toward its headlights.
The car slowed; the window went down. “Are you all right?”
Her hands on the slick finish of the car as she ran around and got in. The warmth inside as she told him to drive, to hurry.
The driver . . . that face. She’d gotten in that car to get away. Brent Nolan had been a stranger. He’d saved her from him. From . . . the name Derek Hudson came to her mind, like a bomb detonating.
No. It was impossible.
There was more pounding on the door. “Let me in!” a man’s voice shouted. Familiar, she thought. But not Iver. Derek Hudson. She shook her head. “No,” she said out loud, needing to hear the word.
Derek Hudson was dead.
She pushed the covers back and crept to the door of her bedroom, peered down the hallway to the square window in the front door.
“Lily! Let me in.”
Tim Bailey stood on the porch, his hands cupped against the window, face pressed close. She ducked back into the bedroom, then eased around the corner to look again.
“Lily!” he shouted again, knocking on the door, swaying slightly on his feet like he’d been drinking.
Lily looked around the bedroom, searching for a clock, for some sense of the time. How long had she slept?
He slapped the window with his palm. “Let me in.”
She twisted the blinds in her bedroom closed so it would be harder to see inside if he came around the side of the house. But as she did, she noticed a neighbor on the porch next door, watching Tim.
Tim smacked the glass harder, and she felt certain it would break. “Let me in, baby.”
Damn it. She passed into the entryway and unlocked the door. “I was sleeping,” she said, cracking the door.
Tim barreled inside. She thought immediately of the way Iver had stood on the porch, not wanting to intrude.
Tim wrapped his arms around her, lifted her up, and twirled in a circle, the front door still wide open. He smelled of cigarette smoke, and she thought of the attack at Iver’s home. Had that been Tim? But it didn’t seem right. Tim would have talked to her.
She wriggled free and stepped back toward the door.
Tim pulled a bag of pills from his pocket. “Brought you something.”
She wrapped her arms across her body. “I need to get some rest, Tim.”
“Rest? You don’t need rest. You need a party.” He opened the Ziploc bag and poured a handful of pills into his palm, looking around the room. “You got something we can take these with?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I can right now.”
He wrapped his free arm around her, and the pills dropped and scattered across the wood floor. “Sure you can. We got all night.”
She pressed herself away. “It’s not a good time, Tim.”
Tim held her at the waist. “Not yet, it’s not. But it will be. We need to get you a buzz going.” He stooped down to pick the pills off the floor, tipped, and caught himself with one hand.
Lily crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to, Tim.”
He laughed and stood before pushing past her into the kitchen and opening cabinets. “Where’s the Jack?”
“I need you to leave, Tim.”
He spun around and stared at her, his head cocked sideways. His eyes narrowed. “Come on, baby. We’re just about to have some fun.” He opened a drawer, pulled out a picture frame, and set it on the table. There was no image in the frame. A thin layer of white dust covered the glass.
“I need you to go now.”
He moved toward her, his motions slow and predatory, though he was grinning like it was all fun. “No way, baby.” He took hold of her arms and unfolded them from her chest. She resisted, but he was stronger and didn’t let up until her arms were at her sides. Then he stepped inside them and pulled her close, pressing his face into her neck.
In an effort to get away, she stumbled, twisting her ankle, and let out a cry. “Please, Tim. Stop.”
“I’ll stop when I’m done,” he said, lips twisting into a smile. “Don’t forget you still owe me for the last batch.”
“Owe you?”
He grabbed her shoulders, fingers gripping the flesh. His mouth set in a line. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Her pulse throbbed in her neck. “I just need some sleep.” She tried to force a smile. “Maybe we could meet up later?” She took a step backward, but he tightened his grip.
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not leaving until I get my payment.”
“I don’t have any money, Tim. I swear. I’ll get you some.”
Tim reached around and cupped her bottom, gripped it hard. “That’s not the kind of payment I’m talking about.”
She shoved him away, stumbled backward, and landed hard on her ankle. Her knee buckled beneath her, and she fell backward into the wall. “I can’t,” she said, rising again.
As she stood, he grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her back. Pain scalded her scalp. His mouth was at her ear. “What the hell is going on?”
She gripped his hand, trying to loosen his fingers. Two more steps, and she’d be in the bathroom. She could lock the door.
He released her hair and spun her to face him, pulling her so that her face was inches from his. His lips twisted as he spoke. “Are you cheating on me?”
She eased backward. “What are you talking about? You have a wife, Tim.” Her foot reached the threshold, and she took another step into the safety of the room.
The whump of a car door closing echoed from the street out front. Tim turned to look, and Lily hurried backward, into the bathroom, and tried to close the door. But Tim put his foot in the gap.
Lily swung the door into his foot. “Get out. Leave me alone.”
Tim shoved the door open, and Lily was thrown back. Her ankle twisted, and her head struck the wall with a burst of white.
CHAPTER 28
KYLIE
Kylie drove eight miles up Highway 1804 to the address of Alvin Tanner. The sky was a broad blanket of gray, the air lit with the glitter of frost and cold. About two miles before the turnoff to Tanner’s residence, she saw the highway patrol vehicle. Kylie pulled over and parked facing the patrol car. A moment later, Will Merkel emerged from the other car and walked over.
She rolled the window down and breathed in the cold air. “Thanks for your help with this,” she said.
“Happy to,” Merkel said, bouncing on his toes to fight the cold. “I made a few calls about this guy.” He leaned against the patrol car and crossed his arms. “He’s kind of an ass.”
“Right.” She had done her own homework and had dug up enough on Tanner to handle him on her own. But you didn’t go face a potentially violent misogynist at a house in the woods on your own. Rule one of detective work. If you were a female detective, it was also rules two and three.
“He’s got a pretty lengthy rap sheet, most of it nasty behavior toward women,” Merkel was saying.
Kylie shrugged. “Sounds like old Tanner and me will be fast friends.”
“Oh, he’s going to have a problem with you,” Merkel said, giving her a smile as though to remind her that he wasn’t the one with the problem.
“You have a suggestion?” she asked, leaning out the window.
“Not one you’re going to like.”
Kylie shrugged. “Try me.”
“I can go talk to Mr. Tanner on my own, get the footage.”
“What if he won’t give it to you?”
“I think he will.”
She waited.
“Tanner’s got a couple speeding tickets along this stretch,” Merkel said.
“And you might be able to help him with those?”
“I could certainly imply that.”
Kylie shook her head. “I’ll take my chances.”
Merkel shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
She nodded back to the car. “I’ll follow you.”
Merkel drove his patrol car back onto the highway, and Kylie followed. She had Tanner’s address programmed into her phone, so she anticipated Merkel’s turn before it happened, which was good because he took it a little fast. Once off the highway, he made a left and then another left down a dirt road before coming to a stop in front of a small timber house with a tin roof. In front, an old Chevy truck collected dirt and snow. Nothing about the place suggested pride of ownership except for the cameras. Four were visible along the roofline: two pointed at different angles toward the driveway, two toward the bushes that lined the house. Behind the bushes stretched a chain-link fence, No Trespassing signs like red tiles along the border of his property.
She was no sooner out of her car than a man appeared on the front porch. Grizzled in flannel and denim and cowboy boots, all he was missing was the double-barreled shotgun to make him the quintessential redneck.
“What do you want?” Tanner asked, his focus on Merkel in his highway patrol uniform.
“I’d like access to the footage from one of your cameras—the one that faces the highway,” Kylie said.
Turning in her direction, Tanner rocked back on his heels, as though amused by the sight of her. “And who the hell are you?”
Kylie showed her badge and introduced herself.
Tanner shook his head and made a sucking sound with his mouth, like he was trying to pull meat from between a couple of molars. “And what do you plan to give me in return for my footage?”
“A gracious thank-you.”
Tanner laughed and looked at Merkel, who was raising an eyebrow at Kylie. Not the way he’d go about it, the look said. “This is private property. Get lost.” Tanner turned on his heel.
Kylie stepped toward the porch. “You know a Carmen Milhouse by any chance, Mr. Tanner?”
Tan
ner kept one hand on the door and glanced back. “What about her?”
“We had a nice chat about an hour ago, Carmen and me.”
“And what does that bitch want?”
“Not you.”
He launched spit, which landed inches from her feet.
“You beat her up pretty good, Alvin?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” Kylie pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’ve got some pictures I can show you to help refresh your memory. Carmen mentioned there were others, too. Callie Roberts. Tracey Jordan. I’ve got names written down here somewhere. Hard to remember them all off the top of my head.”
“What the hell is this?” Tanner asked, charging back to the edge of the porch.
“This is me thinking that you doing something nice for a change is a damn good idea.”
Tanner stared at her, then looked to Merkel, who said nothing.
Kylie cracked her knuckles one at a time. “There’s nothing I like more than to put together a case against a man who’s violent with women.”
“Some of those women I ain’t seen in years,” Tanner said, his voice suddenly breathy. “It’s their word against mine.”
“True,” Kylie said. “But the more of them that corroborate the story, the easier it is to prove.” She raised her phone. “And I’ve got quite a list here. Probably find a few more, if I dug around, you think?”
Tanner said nothing for a moment. “All you want’s the recording from the camera?”
“That’s all I want,” Kylie told him.
He stared down at the worn slats of the porch. “And you’ll leave this other nonsense?”
“I’ll leave it behind as long as there are no new complaints,” she agreed.
Tanner wiped a hand on his jeans. “You can have the damn footage.”
“I need everything from the highway over the last week.”
“It’s going to take me some time. I got to download it from the cloud.”
She almost smiled at Alvin Tanner saying “the cloud,” but then she thought of Carmen and Callie and Tracey and whoever else Alvin Tanner had slapped around. She handed him a business card. “I need it now.”
White Out: A Thriller (Badlands Thriller) Page 14
