The Fed Man (16 page)

Naldie pushed back in his chair, doffed his cap, and slowly exhaled. He turned and pointed to Marie. “That’s her department.”

With a melting smile, she looked up from her notepad. “Don’t worry, Mr. Briscoe. I’ll talk to Francie and to the county. We’ll make sure you get paid.”

Nodding, Doug responded, “I knew we could count on you, Marie.” With a wave of his hand, Doug returned the floor to C. J. “If you please, partner. You may continue.”

Chuckling, C. J. shook his head and placed his glasses in his lapel pocket. “God has blessed me with this man as a friend and as a partner. I get going sometimes and,” mimicking a fisherman using a rod, “he just reels me back, whups me like a used mule, and hands me a cup of reality. Now where were we? I do believe we were talking about evidence.” He leaned forward again and rested his elbows on his knees with his palms open heavenward. “Around 1910, a criminologist by the name of Edmond Locard developed a theory that simply states that every contact leaves its trace. In essence, this means that in every case the perpetrator either takes something identifiable with him or leaves something at the scene that could identify him.”

Clearing his throat to indicate it was his turn, Doug added, “It will be our job to assist you with what C. J. refers to as the 5WH rule, which is to prove the who, what, why, where, when, and how of the crime.”

Abruptly standing, he began pacing around the room and continued talking with his arms waving, Italian-style. “You know that there are three methods of recording a crime scene, namely, written notes, photography, and sketches. For thoroughness, I like to include casting and molding. We will, obviously, need to review each of those with you as well.”

Sitting, he looked at each before asking, “Who should be our contact person? I think we’d all agree that it would just be easier if we work primarily with one of you. Is that your position, Chief?”

Holding his hands up, Naldie replied, “Heavens no, Doug.” Turning and pointing at Nube, he continued, “I think it should be Nube. He’s got the most experience, being FBI and all. Besides, he did the writing.”

“You okay with that, Nube?” Doug asked.

“I’m okay with it. Chief, would it be okay if Mr. Briscoe, Mr. Stone, and I used your office for a few minutes to continue this discussion?”

“Sure thing, Nube. I don’t think you need us, so Pete, Doc, and I will be right out here.” He pointed to the outer office. “I think it might be a good idea, though, for Marie to stay in case you need her to do anything.”

After they had exited, Nube asked, “Well, gentlemen, where should we begin?”

C. J. said, “Why don’t you tell us what you’ve collected, how it was collected, where it is, and so forth.”

Nube grabbed a three-ring binder from Naldie’s desk and handed it to Doug. “This is a log of our crime scene activities and includes a list of all evidence collected to date. I must add that each small piece of evidence we collected was placed in a coin envelope, which was sealed and then put into an evidence bag, which was signed and dated. Initially we stored the evidence at Dr. Anthony’s office, but after the break-in we began storing it here. Dr. Anthony sent the initial evidence to the state forensic lab in Minneapolis. The evidence we brought here has been sent to the same lab.
I think you’ll find the chain of custody has been minimized and maintained.”

Doug sat quietly with the log book in his lap. The only noise was the turning of the pages and the occasional clearing of his throat. His changing facial expressions spoke volumes. He finally looked up, slowly handed the book to his partner, and turned his attention to Nube. “Let me ask you, Nube, what have you learned about the first batch of evidence?”

While C. J. began peering at the book, Nube reiterated what Marie told the group earlier. C. J. looked up and lowered his chin so he could look over his glasses, which were perched on the end of his nose.

“Let’s review one point here, Nube. The axe recovered from the first victim was stored at Dr. Anthony’s office and was stolen. The second victim also had an axe in his chest and you now have that weapon here. Is that correct?”

“We just sent the axe to the crime lab.”

“It’ll be interesting to see if the lab can establish, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the axe was used to kill both victims.” He looked at Marie, who was sitting in Naldie’s chair at his desk. “Can you check to see where the lab is on that part of their evaluation for us, dear?”

“Of course, Mr. Stone. I’ll get right on it.”

Doug retrieved the book from C. J. and turned the pages until he found what he needed. Looking from Nube to Marie, he said, “I’m reading here the list of evidence discovered after the second
victim was found and I have a couple of questions. First, how were the molds constructed of the footprints and tire tracks? Second, do you have any idea on when you’ll receive the reports on this evidence? And third, I think it would be a good idea to obtain the socks used to suffocate the other two victims.”

Nube pointed to the crime scene activities book. “I think you’ll find in there that the molds were made using dental stone, which is the preferred method. Correct me if I’m wrong, Marie, but we should have the reports any time this week. And third, Marie is calling the cold case investigators regarding the previous murders to see if we can obtain the socks.”

C. J. stood, buttoned his suit coat, and extended his hand to Nube. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, and we look forward to working this case through to conclusion with you.” He moved toward Marie, who had come around the desk. Taking her hand, he bowed. “Marie, you get better-looking every day.”

Stepping forward, Doug shook Nube’s hand. “Please let us know when you receive the evidence reports.” He smiled at Marie. “You will be in touch with Francie, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I think we’re done for today. C. J., let’s head back to the office.”

After the attorneys departed, Naldie, Pete, and Doc reentered the chief’s office. Naldie asked, “Well?”

“I think it was a good meeting and I’m glad we have them on our side,” Nube said. “The big question is where do we go from here?”

When no one responded, Nube turned his attention to Pete. “Pete, you’re going to Winter Falls tomorrow morning, correct?”

He nodded.

“And Marie, you have a list of things to get started on, right?”

“Right.”

“I think we should meet again Wednesday afternoon,” Nube said. Seeing the looks on the faces of Naldie and Doc, Nube shrugged and tried to smile. “I know its men’s day at the golf course, guys, but I think this takes precedence. Speaking of the golf course, I better get back there before I lose my job.”

As they began to leave, Nube thought of another avenue that might shed some additional light on their investigation. He also had to call his boss.

“Corrales.”

Nube smiled and thought to himself that some things never change. He also knew from experience that she appreciated brevity, applauded conciseness, and admired succinctness. And she abhorred inaccuracy and supposition. Agents would joke that she keeps the heads and balls of agents who relied on bravado, postulation, and conjecture in a basement room of the federal building.

That’s why it took Special Agent Lawson just three minutes and twenty-two seconds to update Supervisory Special Agent Corrales on the present status of their investigation and of his life. When he had concluded, there was a silence that seemed eerie and deafening. Nube bit his lip and began to wonder if he had irritated her or if she was just thinking and processing.

“Good work, Lawson,” she finally responded. “The question now is where are you going from here?”

“Well, ma’am,” he began, and he proceeded to list the next steps in their investigation.

“Sounds good, and I want you to call me Wednesday night with an update.”

“Would it be all right with you if I called Thursday morning instead, ma’am? Ah, you see, I’ve been invited out to dinner on Wednesday night.”

He knew Corrales could sense the redness in his face. She also could probably hear him kicking his foot at an imperceptible spot on the floor.

“I sense some intrigue in your life, Agent Lawson. Yes, that will be quite all right. I’ll talk to you first thing Thursday morning, and please enjoy your date.”

When she hung up, the click of her phone resonated in Nube’s head like the tolling of Big Ben. Holding the phone out, he stared at it and wondered just how she knew. He didn’t think he had said anything to give it away. Well, he thought, that’s probably why she’s where she is. With a shrug, he smiled, closed his phone, and headed for the door. A good ride in his Audi would help quiet his mind.

Pete always enjoyed the opportunity to travel State Highway 102 to Winter Falls. The road was paved but winding and narrow, with more than its share of potholes that seemed to grow with time. Just like the large stands of white pine interspersed with alder and quaking aspen that lined the road. He was sure to see a few deer grazing in the rare knee-high grass pastures or an eagle soaring far above its treetop aerie. It usually required forty-five minutes to traverse the thirty miles, but today it was going to take at least an hour. There were just too many things occupying his mind about the case to allow him to enjoy this venture today.

How did the perp obtain the drugs? How did he lure or convince these two unsuspecting teenagers to take the drug? Why kill them and why the dismemberment? He found himself gripping the wheel so hard that his knuckles were turning white and beginning to ache. Perhaps the answers, or some of the answers, were to be found in this dump they call Winter Falls. This small town was hit
hard when the iron mines closed. Once a booming, thriving city, it was now just a run-down dive that some called home.

Highway 102 entered Winter Falls in the middle of the city on its southern border where it was renamed Washington Avenue. It meandered past junk-filled, unkempt yards fronting unpainted houses in various states of disrepair. The avenue led to the northeast city limits where it became Highway 102 again. The sharp left turn onto Gordon Avenue always reminded Pete of a
Y
whose left arm was fractured at the shoulder and just hung limply at the side.

The state highway with its potholes was an example of superb road maintenance compared to Gordon Avenue. Just after making the left turn, Pete winced and slowed his Silverado to a crawl when he met a pothole so large he thought for a moment he would lose the right front of his truck. Within half a block he was convinced that the only safe way to traverse this road was either on foot or bicycle.

At the end of the block was a Casey’s convenience store, although it appeared about half the size of the one in Oak Ridge. It looked like a good place to start. Pulling in, he exited and took a minute to stretch and realign those parts that seemed to shift with each pothole encounter. He pinned his badge to his left breast pocket as he entered the door. The soft ringing of the bells alerted the somnolent young Indian lady behind the counter that someone was intruding upon her quiet time.

Hopefully, this one would be a paying customer, she thought. She looked up with a soft, wary smile at the stranger with a badge.
Pete noted her
pottu
was about the same color as her lip gloss. Her anxiety level increased as Pete approached the counter. The soft sound of the door bells stopped him before he reached the counter and he reflexively turned to see who had joined him. He became sad at the sight of a girl who looked to be about fifteen years old, who appeared to be in the last stages of her pregnancy. He shook his head as he wondered how one can go so fast from believing in Santa Claus to having to play that role. Was it planned as her escape or was she the victim of one night of poor judgment? Pete couldn’t help but think of the correlation between the two victims and this baby having a baby. They were all robbed of what they had and of what they could have potentially had. This scene raised his determination to a new high.

He returned his gaze to the counter and tried to smile in an attempt to reassure the young attendant that he meant no harm. Approaching the counter, he pointed at his badge.

“Good morning, young lady. My name is Pete Mohr and I’m a deputy with the Oak Ridge police department. I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions. Nothing personal, I assure you, and I won’t take much of your time.”

“Oh, sure, officer. How may I help you?”

“I was wondering if you were working last Friday afternoon and evening?”

“Yes, sir, I was. That was my weekend to work and I was here from three to closing.”

“Did you see anyone suspicious or anyone you did not know that night? Or did you happen to see an old red pickup, perhaps with some duct tape on it?”

She placed the tip of her index finger on her nose as if this was her recall button. After what seemed like more time than needed, she looked at Pete and slowly shook her head. Her finger still attached to her nose, she smiled innocently before responding.

“I’m sorry, officer, but I don’t recall seeing anyone I didn’t know and I don’t recall seeing such a truck. I’m sorry that I can’t help you.”

“Excuse me, sir.”

The voice startled him such that he turned fast and reflexively put his hand on his holstered sidearm before seeing the young pregnant girl standing behind him. Recognizing the situation, he raised both hands submissively as he looked at the young lady who covered her mouth with both hands and whose eyes were so wide they looked like they might jump out of her head.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am. You scared the bejeebers out of me. Are you okay?”

Without moving her hands, she slowly nodded. Then she moved both hands to her pregnant abdomen and closed her mouth.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, sir. It’s just that I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Sadie. I was going to add that anybody who comes to this town and down this street, well you might want to check at the Foam and Suds. It’s the local watering hole and there’s nothing
else to do here in this town.” Shifting her gaze momentarily to her abdomen and then back to Pete, she smiled and added, “Well, almost nothing else.”