by B J Bourg
“If Junior was driving her bus, then where was Katrina when the kidnapping happened? And where is she now? And who was driving the car that made the rut in the mud puddle?”
“Those are all things I’m going to find out.” I stepped out of her vehicle and dug for my keys.
“You’re not going alone.”
“Yeah, everyone else is busy.”
“It wasn’t a question.” She set her jaw. “I’m calling Melvin and telling him to meet you here as soon as he’s done collecting the mold of the suspect’s tire. Until then, I expect you to wait and help me map out the search grid and give the teams their assignments. I want this search to be as orderly as possible so we can cover every inch of the fields surrounding the bus. God forbid she’s out there, but if she is, we need to find her as soon as possible.”
I hesitated, wanting to go straight to Junior’s trailer, but I knew she was right. Any prudent officer would wait for backup. Although I was tired, I was still thinking clear enough to know a second pair of eyes would be beneficial.
I looked toward the group that had gathered under the open tent. Amongst the townspeople there were a few reporters wearing coats and beanies that sported their station’s logos. I didn’t want to answer any of their questions, because I was beginning to worry that Rose was already dead and I was afraid I might say something to give away that sentiment.
Right at that moment, a gust of cold air blew the smell of frying bacon in my face. I glanced back toward the tent and saw an elderly man whisking eggs in a giant glass bowl while a woman—I assumed it was his wife—removed strips of bacon from a frying pan. My stomach started to growl almost instantly upon seeing the food.
“Okay, I’ll look over the grid with you,” I said to Susan in resignation. “I might even get a bite of breakfast before heading out to Hurricane Katrina’s house.”
Susan’s nose scrunched up. “Hurricane who?”
I waved her off. “It’s a long story.”
CHAPTER 37
Two hours later…
I was glad to finally be away from the crowd under the tent, especially the news reporters. I didn’t like having to filter every word I uttered for fear one of them might overhear me. I mentioned this to Melvin as we headed south on Old Blackbird Highway toward Katrina Bradberry’s house, and he agreed.
“I just knew I was going to say something about the case and have it hit the front page,” he said. “And then I knew Susan was going to jump my ass like she jumped Jennifer’s ass.”
“No way,” was all I said, settling back into the driver’s seat and groaning. My belly was full and it made me feel even more tired. If I could just close my eyes for one minute—
“Hey, Clint, did you hear me?”
I jerked my head around. “What? What’d you say?”
“I was saying that Junior has a brand new car, and I was wondering if the tire track could’ve come from his vehicle.”
“That’s highly possible.” I was about to comment further when the radio scratched to life and Lindsey called out my number. I lifted the radio and told her to go ahead with her traffic.
“I just received a call about a missing person.”
“Not again.” I groaned audibly, shaking my head and wondering if we had another missing girl on our hands. “Go on.”
“A Mr. Ricky Bradberry called to say his wife is missing. He hasn’t seen her in a few days and he thinks something’s wrong.”
Melvin and I traded curious glances. I told Lindsey we were already en route to the house. Before I could even put the radio down, Melvin was turning into the shell drive at 9046 Old Blackbird Highway. The place looked different in daylight. The yard looked more cluttered and I could see the imperfections on the exterior siding more clearly. A man was standing on the porch smoking a cigarette. He was heavyset and wore navy blue work slacks with a dirty white T-shirt.
“I think Katrina Bradberry was cheating on her husband,” Melvin said flatly. “There’s no way Junior belongs to that man. The only similarity I see between them is that they’re both human.”
I couldn’t argue. Ricky the elder had a wide head and curly hair that was thinning on top. A network of red veins extended across the surface of his nose like spider webs, and some of them appeared to have burst under the skin.
I led the way up the driveway and onto the porch, extended my hand. After doing the introductions, I asked about the call he’d made to dispatch.
“I got a call from Lenny saying Junior has been saying some weird things about his mom, and Lenny asked if I could check on her.” The man scrubbed at his face with a hand that was dry and cracking. “I checked her bedroom and she’s not there. It’s a mess and I’ve never known her to keep it that way. Her bus is gone, so I thought she might be on a run, but I called and her phone goes straight to the message thingy.”
“Lenny and Junior—they’re your sons, right?” I asked.
He nodded. “Lenny’s the oldest and Junior’s the baby.”
“Did Lenny give you any specifics about what Junior said?”
“Not really. He just said he was worried about his mom.” The man sighed. “Junior hasn’t been all there in the head since he started doing drugs, and Lenny thinks he probably did something bad.”
“Is Lenny around? I’d like to ask him more questions about his conversation with Junior.”
“No, he’s still offshore. He called from work to tell me Junior had called late last night talking crazy.”
“Can I have his number?”
“Sure.” Ricky dug out a pair of reading glasses and propped them on his thick nose. The nose pads were too narrow and the frames rested precariously on the bridge of his nose. He pulled out a flip phone and fumbled with the buttons. Finally, he turned it so I could see a number. I plugged the number into my phone and gave Melvin a nod before walking away to make the call.
“Lenny, this is Clint Wolf,” I said when Lenny answered. “I’m calling about a conversation you had with your brother. I was wondering—”
“Oh, God, I’m glad you called. He sounded crazy out of his mind. He called early this morning while it was still dark and began rambling about the cops coming over to the house and how Mom had stolen a little girl. He said there was vomit all over the walls in her room and he thinks she ate the girl and then threw her up.” Lenny paused, and I could hear him taking a breath. “What’s going on? I’ve never heard him sounding so crazy. I tried calling my mom but it rings straight to her voicemail. She always answers her phone—or at least she calls right back.”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” I glanced in the direction of Junior’s house, but all was quiet back there. “Did he say anything else?”
“Um, gosh, he said so much.” There was another pause and he began humming to himself. He continued talking after a few long seconds. “Let’s see, he said something about a cop named Clint, which I’m assuming is you. He said Dad wasn’t around when the police broke into the house. Oh, yeah, and he also told me not to eat the sugar if I go to Mom and Dad’s house.”
I scrunched up my face. “Not to eat the sugar? What the hell does that mean?”
“I’ve got no clue. I guess it was some kind of prophesy or something. He gets like that from time to time—thinks he can tell the future or he knows when something bad is about to happen.”
I asked a few more questions, but he had said about all there was to tell. After hanging up, I asked Ricky Bradberry why he hadn’t called earlier to report his wife missing.
“I didn’t know she was missing.”
“How could you not know? Y’all live in the same house.”
The man grunted. “We live together, but we’re about as separate as two people can get without being divorced. You know how some people wait until their kids graduate to get divorced?”
Melvin and I nodded.
“Well, we were going to do that, but then my lawyer told me it would cost too much money and we would lose our land. So,
we decided to live together but stay separate. She gets one bedroom in the house and I get the other. We share the kitchen, but we’re never in it at the same time because we work different hours. She’s also got her own bathroom and I’ve got mine. That way, we barely have to see each other. To be honest, we get along better now that we’ve decided to live separate lives.” He chuckled. “Of course, it’s hard to fuss when we never see each other.”
That’s a screwed up way to live, I thought, but didn’t say it out loud. Instead, I asked him why he hadn’t noticed that the bus was gone.
“It’s usually always gone when I get home from work in the morning, and there are plenty of times when it’s gone when I leave for work in the evening. I don’t ask questions and, to be honest, I don’t really care what she does.” The semblance of a frown tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Of course, I sure hope nothing bad happened to her. She’s a good mother. She’s patient with Junior.”
“Do you mind if we search your house and property?” I didn’t know if he was aware that we had already searched the house. At that time, we were looking for Rose Murdock. Now, we had to find out what had happened to Katrina Bradberry. I was starting to fear she had fallen victim to some sort of foul play, but I had no clue how it factored into Rose’s case.
“Not at all.” Ricky stepped back and waved us through the door. “Search all you want.”
CHAPTER 38
Not much had changed with the interior of the house. Melvin and I searched Katrina’s room first. We read every piece of paper we found—which included a pay stub, old receipts, and a grocery list—checked every electronic device in the room, and even searched under her mattress. We found nothing that might offer a clue as to her whereabouts or shed some light on what had become of her.
Once the search of her room was complete, I collected several samples of the dried vomit from the floor and the bucket beside the bed.
“What do you hope to learn from that stuff—which restaurants to avoid?” Melvin wanted to know, pointing at the samples I’d secured.
I hefted one of the evidence containers in my hand. “I don’t know if her illness had something to do with her disappearance, but we need to know what it was that got her sick.”
Once we had gathered up our gear, we moved into the kitchen, where I found a clean corner in the room to ground our equipment. I straightened and surveyed the room, wondering where to begin. It was then that my eyes caught sight of the contents of the tabletop. Nothing had changed from earlier—there was still a box of cereal, a yellow container of sugar, a dirty bowl, and a spoon—but I took a second, long look at the container of sugar. Why on earth had Junior told Lenny not to eat it?
I turned to Ricky Bradberry, who was standing in the opening between the kitchen and the living room. “Did you use any of that sugar?”
He shook his head.
“Not even with your coffee?”
“Nope. I drink it straight from the pot, like God intended.”
I approached the table and noticed that the cover on the sugar container was loose. Pulling on a latex glove, I carefully screwed the lid until it was tightly sealed, and then placed it in an airtight evidence can. “We need to get this to the lab as soon as possible. If she was drugged or poisoned, it probably came from this container.”
“Do you really think Junior poisoned her?” Melvin asked.
“Why would you think that?” Ricky interjected. “Why would you think my son poisoned his mom?”
“Lenny said Junior told him not to eat the sugar,” I explained, “and your wife—err, estranged wife—has vomited all over her room, so she was either sick, drugged, or poisoned.”
Melvin reached for the container. “I’ll call Jennifer Duval and see if her team is still around. I can turn the evidence over to her and have her bring it to the lab.”
I hesitated, but knew it would be a good idea. We were strapped too thin to send someone to the lab and it might help to get Jennifer out of town. I didn’t know how long she planned on visiting with her brother, but the sooner she left town, the better I would feel, so I handed it over. “Good idea. Ask her to put a rush on it and to let us know what’s in it as soon as possible.”
“Will do.”
When Melvin stepped out, I continued searching the kitchen while Ricky leaned against the wall and watched. He looked dejected, but he didn’t say anything.
I went through all of the cabinets and drawers above the sink, and then dug through the trash can in the corner of the room. I then began working my way through the lower cabinets. They were mostly filled with dishes, pots, and other cooking ware, except for the cabinet under the sink. In that one, there were bottles of dish washing detergent, a bleach spray bottle, and empty plastic bags. I sifted through the empty plastic bags and was about to call it done when I noticed a small glass container tucked away in the back corner of the cabinet.
“What in hell’s name is that?” I asked out loud, taking a picture of the item with my phone before reaching for it with a gloved hand. When I pulled it close enough to see what it was, I realized it was an empty baby food jar. The label had been peeled from the outside and the jar had been cleaned out. Someone had used a Sharpie to write “Bill’s Jewelry and Pawn” on the silver lid. I held it to the light and noticed traces of a white powdery substance at the bottom of the jar.
“Do you recognize this?” I asked, turning it in Ricky’s direction.
He shook his head. “I’ve never seen that in my life.”
“What about Bill’s Jewelry and Pawn—have you ever been there?”
“Yeah, I go there all the time, but I never bought that thing.”
“Does Junior ever go to the pawn shop with you?”
He nodded, but looked dumbfounded. He had no clue what was going on.
I stood slowly to my feet, my mind turning over this information. Cyanide was sometimes used by jewelers to clean jewelry and it was highly lethal. If this was cyanide and it had been placed in Katrina’s sugar, it would have caused a number of symptoms, which included vomiting. I hurried outside.
“Melvin,” I called, jogging to the driveway where he was standing, talking on the phone, “we need to get this analyzed, too.”
“Oh, hold on, Jennifer, we’ve got another specimen to send up to the lab,” Melvin said. His expression turned curious, and then he nodded. “Yeah, it’s Clint. Okay, here he is.” He handed me the phone and whispered, “It’s Jennifer and she wants to talk to you.”
I hesitated, but it was too late to wave him off, so I took the phone. “Jennifer Duval,” I said slowly, trying to remain calm, “that was some dirty shit you did to Susan.”
“I know and I’m sorry. I…it was a moment of weakness. I didn’t know she was pregnant. And when I found out, it triggered some anger. I tried to deal with it, but it got the best of me when you rejected me…yet again. I have to admit, I still harbor some bitterness over what you did to me back when we spent that Christmas together—”
“Look, I’m not interested in strolling down memory lane with you. What do you want? Why did you ask to speak with me?”
“I…well…I just wanted to congratulate you on the baby.”
I sighed. “Thank you.”
“You know, when we worked together I used to always dream about us connecting. I thought you were the one. When we finally hooked up that Christmas, I was so happy. You made me feel so special, better than I’d felt in years. I thought I’d finally found the one.”
I took a breath and glanced over at Melvin. He furrowed his brow and stared inquisitively at me. I just shook my head.
“And then you did what you did,” Jennifer continued. “I’m not going to rehash anything, I promise, but you claimed you didn’t want to be involved with a partner and I was okay with it. But then you go and start dating someone you work with down here in this little shit town, and then y’all get married, and now you’re having a kid. You know, it kind of hurts. I know you don’t care, but it really
hurts.”
“That was years ago, Jennifer.” I was careful not to call her Jen, which is what she preferred me to call her. “What do you want from me?”
“An apology would be a good start.”
I hesitated, then shook my head in resignation. “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much that weekend meant to you. I never meant to hurt you. It just—”
“I know, I know—we worked together and you didn’t want to make things complicated. Well, I guess Susan is some kind of special woman to make you break your cardinal rule.”
I started to respond, but I took a breath and decided to change the subject. “Did Melvin tell you we think this woman might’ve been poisoned?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think y’all can test the contents of the jar and sugar container we seized?”
“You know we can. I’d do anything for you. I’ll have the results by the end of the day.”
I thanked her—a bit begrudgingly, still angry over what she had done to Susan—and then handed the phone back to Melvin. He took it and they talked for a bit longer. I walked to the edge of the concrete and stared at all the clutter in the yard, wondering where to search next.
CHAPTER 39
The grass around the Bradberry home had been cut within the last week, but that was about all they had done. No one had bothered weeding around the junk and equipment in the yard. Bright green weeds grew in a narrow and thick strip—like a green highlighter—around every item in the yard. As I examined each item visually, trying to detect if anything had been moved recently, I found my eyes drifting back to the pond south of the house.
Melvin joined me when he ended the call and he followed my gaze. “What’re you thinking?”
“What if she’s in the pond?” I asked. “They could’ve tied a heavy piece of equipment to her and dropped her in the water, never to be seen again.”