A Death in Lionel's Woods

by Christine Husom

  I gave him a minute. “Sorry if I brought up unhappy memories.”

  “That’s all right.” He looked up at me. “I’m wondering about those updates you said you had.”

  “Yes. And I wish I knew more, to tell you the truth. We don’t have an identity on the woman yet, but there is a strong indication she is the woman in this photo. I thought you should have another look at it, in case you remembered something.” I handed the photo of Maisa, Sese, and Lela in Georgia to Kevin.

  A muscle in his eye twitched as he took a brief look. He handed it back like it was too hot to hold onto. “I don’t know them.”

  “You barely got a look.”

  “I got enough of a look to know that I don’t know them.”

  “And you’ve never seen the woman around? Walking down the road? In the county park, next to your woods?”

  He shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”

  “There was something the doctors discovered that had them scratching their heads.”

  “What was that?” His eyes widened and his brows lifted.

  “She’d had surgery to remove a kidney.”

  His fingers pushed against the tabletop. “And?”

  “It didn’t seem to them that she’d had any kind of kidney disease. They could only conclude she had donated it.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” His eye muscle twitched again.

  “Neighbors talk. I thought maybe you’d heard about someone in the area who’d donated a kidney to someone in need.”

  “Ah, no, I haven’t heard of anyone like that around here. I don’t think I know anybody who’s had a kidney transplant.”

  “Okay. Well, give yourself some more time to think if you’d ever seen this woman at a gathering of some sort. Or a store. It may be completely coincidental that she chose your woods to rest in. But we have reason to believe she made more than one trip there. Obviously, that makes us wonder why.”

  Kevin’s brows drew together. “What kind of reason?”

  “She had a treasure trove of money buried under her body. Evidence indicates that she’d added to the stash on a number of occasions.”

  A red flush colored Lionel’s neck. “Buried money in my woods?” The words came out as a mere whisper and his eyes blinked rapidly a few times.

  I nodded then stood. “I wish our Ms. Doe was here to give us the explanation of why. But, of course we’ll do everything we can to get to the bottom of it, and find the answers we need to solve this case.” I found my way to the front door then turned to Kevin who hung back several feet. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Kevin wore a solemn expression as he muttered his goodbye.

  The sun was low in the western sky as I walked to my vehicle, climbed in, and backed out of Kevin Lionel’s driveway. It felt like my squad car made the decision for me, and I took a hard left onto the same path leading into the woods I had taken two days before. I stopped, and parked about six feet back from the yellow “Do Not Cross” crime scene tape that was still in place. I got out of car, and as I stepped over the tape, wondered if anyone else had been there since Ms. Doe’s body had been found, and ignored the order to stay out. Someone like Kevin Lionel.

  I walked over to our victim’s death bed. More leaves had fallen from the trees, making the shallow hole where she’d buried the money-filled bag a little less obvious. If Kevin had entered the scene in his woods, he may not have noticed the hole. On the other hand, it was on the same spot the victim had been.

  Kevin seemed genuinely surprised when I’d told him about the buried money. But after our conversation, I was even more certain he was holding back key information. He denied knowing the victim, and I believed he was telling the truth about that. So what could it be?

  I stood in the woods until the sun dropped below the horizon. A sound behind me caused me to turn on a dime, as my hand locked on the handle of my Glock. I pulled it from its holster, and grasped it with both hands in the ready position. I searched the darkened area for any sign of life then caught a glimpse of the tail end of a deer as it scampered away, about sixty feet from me. He must have caught my scent. I should have asked Kevin Lionel for a little buck scent when I was at his house. Ha.

  I pulled out my flashlight and used it to search for any other creatures that might surprise me, and then guided the light to the spot that was Jane’s resting place while she protected a bag of money and a photograph. For what purpose?

  My cell phone rang, and when I jumped slightly, I knew it was time to get out of the woods. My nerves were shot. It was Smoke calling. “Detective?” I said.

  “I was wondering how you came out with Lionel.” When I told him, he said, “Well, he seems like the kind of guy that will eventually give up whatever he’s sitting on.”

  “I hope so.”

  “So where are you now?”

  “In the woods.”

  “Lionel’s woods?”

  “Yeah, after I left his house, I felt like I needed some time here. But it’s a little spooky, now that it’s getting dark. I pulled my gun on a deer.”

  “You pulled your gun on a deer?”

  “He startled me when he moved behind me, so it was a natural reaction. But you know what hit me as I automatically reached for my gun?”

  “What was that?”

  “That I could do it. I could draw my gun on a suspect, and shoot if I had to.”

  “Essential for a cop to know that,” Smoke said.

  “And I’m grateful the department kept the other one, the other I . . . I, um . . . had to use—”

  “To kill Langley Parker.”

  “I’ll eventually be able to say that out loud.”

  “You will when you’re ready to.”

  6

  It turned out leaving the squad car in my driveway was a bad idea, after all. On my drive to the sheriff’s office Friday morning, both of the tires on the passenger side of the vehicle went flat on County Road 35. I had to tug sharply on the wheel to steer it onto the shoulder. When I got out and checked, I couldn’t spot the obvious reason of why it had happened, since the air caps were securely in place. It was possible I had driven over something that had punctured both tires. There may have been something protruding in the ditch, between the road and farm field, I had driven across the night before. Something that caused a slow leak I hadn’t noticed.

  I pushed the call button on my radio. “Six oh eight, Winnebago County.”

  “Go ahead, Six oh eight.”

  “I’m out at County Thirty-five and Amos Avenue. Send a tow to my location, if you would.”

  “Copy, at seven fifty-four.”

  A blue SUV drove by, and an older woman in the passenger seat waved at me. As I waved back, my cell phone rang. It was Smoke. “Good morning, Detective.”

  “Morning. What’s up? I heard you call for a tow, but I didn’t hear you calling in a vehicle check before that.”

  “No. It’s for me, for my squad car. I got two flat tires.”

  “Two?”

  “I must have run over something sharp. What, where, when, or how, I don’t know.”

  “You have the damndest things happen to you. Ever notice that?”

  “Gee, no, I never noticed, but I’ll start paying closer attention.”

  “Keeps me on my toes, that’s a given. By the way, I’m pulling up behind you.”

  I had been looking east when I heard the gravel crunch from the weight of the Crown Victoria. I turned around and saw Smoke in the driver’s seat smiling as he stopped the car, and climbed out. “’Bye.” He shut his phone, and I did the same.

  He joined me by the disabled squad car. “I’ll hang around until the tow truck comes so you don’t have to catch a ride in with them.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Rita tells me we’ve heard from another slew of Georgia counties. We’re down to the last ten or so. No one recognizes the specific mountain scene that would be the background for the photo, nor can they identify the people. And none of the na
mes come up in a records check. As first, or last, names.”

  “That’s the unsettling part. It’s unbelievable how many peoples’ remains are never identified.”

  “It makes you wonder. But the good news is that the advances in DNA, combined with the info floating out there on the Internet, more people are being identified. But you’re right, way too many are never claimed.”

  “It’s not like when a sock disappears and you wonder if the washer ate it. These are human beings. Everyone at least had a mother, father, friend, somewhere along the way.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir here.”

  I nodded. “And I know I’m a broken record on this, but something keeps taking me back to Kevin Lionel. He claims he didn’t know Jane Doe, and I am inclined to believe him on that. But I want to know what it is that he’s keeping from us.”

  A red truck with a long arm, giant hook, and “M & J Towing” printed on the doors pulled up. Jason, one of the regular guys that worked for the company, pulled onto the opposite shoulder, and rolled down his window. “Hey, Sergeant. Your car died?”

  “Just two of the tires.”

  “Bummer. Well, I’ll swing around and hook you up.”

  “He’s referring to your car,” Smoke said, too quietly for Jason to overhear.

  “You’re so funny sometimes.”

  Jason did a wide U-turn, pulled in front of my vehicle, and then backed up until he was in position to affix the hook under my car. He was experienced, and fast, and the job was done in minutes. “To the county shop?” Jason asked.

  Smoke shook his head. “No, take it over to Maurie’s Tires, in case we need new ones. County has a contract with them. We’ll follow you there.”

  Jason gave a quick salute with his grease-stained finger, and hopped in his rig. Smoke and I got into his car, and we drove as a mini-parade to Maurie’s.

  “I’ll call the chief deputy to tell him I’ve been delayed,” I said.

  When I’d finished talking to Mike Kenner, Smoke’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the display and flipped it open. “Good morning, Miss Rita. . . . Wonderful. Send it to all the papers we decided on. And also to my mobile laptop, if you would. . . . Thanks. See you later.”

  “So Doctor Patrick’s office came through?” I said.

  “Yup. The image will be here momentarily.”

  We didn’t speak while we waited the minute until the laptop made a little “ding,” and Jane Doe’s computer-generated-fleshed-out face appeared on the screen. She was a healthy-looking, classical beauty, at least according to the image. It could not quite match an actual photograph, but it was close. Doe was nearly identical to the woman who posed for a picture with two children, somewhere in Georgia. She was either the same person, or her twin sister.

  Tears formed in my lower lids and I blinked them away.

  Smoke’s eyes darted between the road and the computer screen several times. “She looks younger than I’d have guessed.”

  “She does. I was surprised when Doctor Patrick told me she’d estimated her age at early to mid-thirties. I’ve been thinking if she’s that young, and those are her kids in the Georgia photo, they wouldn’t be adults, but they could be teenagers. Where are they, I’d like to know.”

  “If they were Jane Doe’s kids, she could have lost custody because of any number of reasons, or bad choices. We see that every day. They might be with their dad somewhere, and haven’t had recent contact with their mom.”

  “Let’s pray the circulated image brings us an ID.”

  After the tire experts at Maurie’s had my squad car, supported by a hydraulic lift, several feet off the ground, it only took them a few minutes to find a three-inch nail in each tire. “You been driving in a construction area?” Andy, with the handlebar mustache, asked.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Well then, either someone wanted your tires to go flat, for one reason, or the other, or it was just a really bad coincidence that you ran over two long nails, and they both just happened to get stuck exactly right in the tires. Freaky things like that sometimes happen.”

  The last time I’d had vehicle vandalism, it was on my classic Pontiac GTO. Whatever Smoke was thinking, he kept to himself.

  “You’ll need new tires, due to the fact that you drove on the rims.”

  “I pulled over as soon as I felt the tug.”

  He pointed to the wear marks and lifted a shoulder. “Happens pretty fast from the weight of the vehicle.”

  “You have the tires we need in stock?” Smoke asked.

  Andy swiped at his brow. “Yeah. What we’ll do is move the left rear to the right front, and put the new ones in back, so they’ll have more even balance. We’ll get on it right away and can have it done in about an hour.”

  “Sergeant, grab what you need out of the car, and we’ll head to the office. You’ll call when it’s ready?” Smoke directed the question at Andy.

  “Sure. Here, I’ll lower the car so you can get inside easier,” Andy told me.

  He pushed the control button on the hydraulic lift, and when my car reached ground level, I opened the passenger door, and pulled my briefcase from the floor. I shut the door then pushed the all-lock button to keep the contents secure. I handed my business card to Andy. “You can call my work cell number.”

  He glanced at my contact information. “We’ll let you know as soon as it’s ready, then.”

  When Smoke and I were back in his car, he said, “I don’t like what’s been happening one bit. First your water, and now your tires?”

  “One might have nothing to do with the other.”

  “That’s true enough. Was your squad car parked in your garage, or your driveway?”

  “Driveway, per your suggestion.”

  Smoke breathed out a “yeah” in remembrance of that conversation. “If someone committed the act of vandalism on your property that means you’ve had trespassers at your place twice in the last few days. Doesn’t seem like much of a coincidence to me.”

  “I know. That’s what I’m thinking too. But what surprises me is that Queenie hasn’t heard anything unusual. She’s so good at alerting me.”

  “So you’ve got yourself a very quiet vandal. Did you check your motion-detector camera?”

  “It’s on the fritz, so I need to replace it with a better model. For now, I’m holding onto the belief that the two incidents are not related. Let’s concentrate on Jane Doe instead.”

  Smoke pulled up to a stoplight and turned to face me. He opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind. He gave the steering wheel a tap then turned his attention back to the road as the light changed to green.

  I bumped into Dr. Bridey Patrick, literally, in Sheriff Twardy’s office doorway, surprising us both. “Sergeant! You’re stronger than you look,” she said as I grabbed her arms to prevent her from falling backwards.

  “You should see the amount of iron she can pump,” Smoke said behind me.

  “Detective, good to see you.” Her eyes widened when she looked up at Smoke.

  The doctor and I each took a comfort step back.

  “The doctor stopped by to discuss the progress they’ve made on our unidentified woods victim,” the sheriff chimed in from the other side of his desk.

  “As long as I was already in the courthouse to testify on a case,” she said.

  “Come in, all of you,” Twardy added, and we moved into his office.

  “I guess I have another minute,” Dr. Patrick said.

  We took our seats on the visitors’ chairs.

  “Sheriff, have you seen the computer image of Jane Doe that Doc Patrick sent over?” Smoke turned to Dr. Patrick. “And thank you for doing that, by the way.”

  Her smile lit up her face.

  Twardy lifted a paper from his desk. “Yes, the good doctor delivered a copy to me personally.”

  Dr. Patrick nodded. “I think we can all agree Jane Doe is the woman in the photo with the two children.”

  We sil
ently studied the image. Her name was Maisa. And once upon a time she was in Georgia with Sese and Lela.

  Dr. Patrick leaned forward. “I was sharing some toxicology results with Sheriff Twardy. You know they usually take some time, but given the circumstances, our local crime lab is assisting with the lion’s share of the work on this one. Alcohol, marijuana, and heroin are the common ones, and fairly simple to test for, and to identify. Our victim tested negative for all three. We also checked for methamphetamine, although she did not physically display a history of use. But I wanted to rule it out, anyway.”

  She leveled her intent gaze on me. “As I relayed at autopsy, I was frankly more concerned with chemotherapy, or autoimmune treatment, but her organs again showed no signs of cancer or immune disorders. My initial findings tell me she starved to death. Yet, as you discovered, she had money to buy food.”

  “So she did it on purpose?” I asked.

  “Or it is possible she was somehow denied food. Although, there was no evidence of physical abuse, or restraints. Sometimes people are controlled by other means.”

  “If she could get to the woods where she was hiding the money, she could get to a store to buy food,” Smoke countered.

  Dr. Patrick moved her eyes to Smoke and lifted her hands in question. “I don’t have an answer to that. All I can do is relay what the individuals tell me when I examine them, and after we get the results back from all the tests.”

  Smoke gave a nod. “I’ve got Bob Edberg checking with the organ donation folks to see if that turns up anything.”

  “How far back are they going?” Dr. Patrick asked.

  “Ten years.”

  She bobbed her head up and down for several seconds, and then stole a quick, admiring glance at Smoke. He held a blank expression, pretending not to notice. “Very good. All right then, I’ll leave you all to carry on with your investigation.”

  “Good to see you again, Doc,” Smoke said, obviously brightening her day, probably her whole week.

  After she’d left, Smoke told the sheriff, “We’ve heard from all but one county in Georgia, and still haven’t hit pay dirt with any of them.”