The Cold Trail

by J. C. Fields

  Rothenburg nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, if she plays her cards right, the new owners will make her an offer.”

  “I hope so, she’s a better attorney than I ever was. She’ll be mad we didn’t tell her.”

  “We’re not telling any of the associates or the junior partners.”

  “Still…”

  “It has to be that way, Kyle. Terms of the sale.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “On to more important matters. Have you talked to Robert Burns Sr.?”

  “No, only his representative, Joel Moody.”

  “I spoke to several individuals with knowledge of the case today.”

  “Oh…” Sandifer took a sip of scotch. “At the Hoover building?”

  Rothenburg nodded. “Were you aware they had agents at ten locations where bodies are supposedly buried?”

  “That information was not in our discovery packet.”

  “If they find bodies, it will be hard to keep him off death row.”

  “Yes, but it will increase the number of appeals to be filed.”

  Rothenburg chuckled, drained his glass, and stood. “Kyle, the longer the appeal cycle, the more potential revenue we can project for valuation. Six months will go by in a flash, then you and I can get the hell out of here.”

  Chapter 32

  Springfield, MO

  Kristin ran to her daddy as he walked into the kitchen from the garage. Kruger scooped her up and wrapped his arms around her, being careful not to squeeze too hard. She squealed with delight as he twirled her around.

  “Where were you, Da-dee?”

  “I had to catch a bad man, Kristin.”

  “Did you catch him?”

  “Yes, Kristin, we caught him.”

  “Good.” She hugged her father’s neck and then put her head on his shoulder.

  Stephanie stood off to the side, smiling. “She’s been checking the garage every five minutes to see if you were home.”

  Kruger started to say something, but his throat constricted. Blinking rapidly, he leaned his head against his daughter’s and closed his eyes.

  “I’m home now.”

  Kristin was asleep before he could get halfway through her favorite story. He placed the book on her nightstand, straightened the blankets on her bed, and closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar. Before he and Stephanie went to bed, he would open it all the way.

  As he unpacked his travel bag, Stephane sat on the bed and watched him. “Well?”

  He looked up. “Well, what?”

  “You didn’t tell me what happened.”

  “Of the ten sites, eight produced bodies. Plans are to expand the search area at the other two sites.”

  “Then you have him.”

  Taking a deep breath, he nodded. “Yeah, we have him. Maybe.”

  “What do you mean, maybe?”

  “Money, lawyers, more money, you name it. This guy’s father worries me.”

  “Why’s that, Sean?”

  Looking at his wife, he gave her a grim smile. “I’m not able to put my finger on it yet, but something about finding the book makes me nervous.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, that’s the problem. To me it just felt too…” He paused and furrowed his forehead, “convenient. The guy goes to all the trouble to hide the bodies, yet he leaves this book in a wall safe with evidence he did it. I don’t know. Maybe I’m giving him too much credit.”

  She stood and walked over to where he stood. “Sean, think about it for a few moments.”

  “I have been.”

  “No, think about it from his side. Why would he keep pictures?”

  “Trophies. A reminder of what he feels he’s accomplished. It’s a way of reliving the moment. But…”

  “Go on.”

  “There is something about this one that bugs me. I just can’t figure out what that something is.”

  “Let’s get ready for bed; you look tired. Bet you haven’t slept well, have you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Maybe you can think clearer in the morning.”

  ***

  The digital clock on his nightstand read 4:12, two minutes later than the last time he glanced at it. Sleep had come easy the night before, but now, six hours later, it was elusive. His conversation with Stephanie as he unpacked played in his mind over and over. There was something there, yet just beyond his grasp. Stephanie lay asleep next to him, her gentle, rhythmic breathing a sound he missed when away from her. Normally the sound acted like a sedative, helping him get him back to sleep. It wasn’t working this morning.

  As quietly as possible, he got out of bed and walked down the hall to his office. Before turning on his desk lamp, he closed the door. When he arrived home the night before, he placed his backpack on his desk chair and left it for the next day. Removing his computer and placing the bag on the floor next to the desk, he opened his laptop. While it booted up, he stared at the screen as it showed the progress of activation. When ready, he opened a file and started to read.

  Leaning back in the chair, his left elbow was on the armrest, the hand supporting his chin. His index finger moved slowly across his lips as he moved the mouse with his right hand. The file was his official report written after his investigation of the abduction and disappearance of the female college students. Even though he had read it dozens of times, each time through the report sparked new questions. On his second reading, he stopped and tilted his head to the side. A question he had not considered before stared him in the face. He read the passage again and took a deep breath. Glancing at the clock in the lower right corner of his computer, he reached for his desk phone.

  ***

  Teri Monroe, PhD, MD, and longtime friend of Sean Kruger, was now the Director of the FBI Forensic Science Division. She answered on the fourth ring.

  “Monroe.”

  “Teri, it’s Sean Kruger.”

  While he couldn’t see it, Teri smiled. “Sean Kruger, I haven’t spoken to you in—how long?”

  “It has been awhile, Teri.” He heard a noise in the background he couldn’t place. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “Nonsense, I was just about to step into the shower.” The noise stopped. “I thought you retired?”

  “Urban legend.”

  She chuckled. “So, what do I owe this early morning phone call to?”

  “The Robert Burns case.”

  “How are you involved?”

  “I’m leading the investigation.”

  “I heard that, but thought it was a rumor.”

  “No, it’s me.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Has your team identified any of the bodies found?”

  “As of last night, no.”

  “Anything you can tell me?”

  “Without the report in front of me, not much. Except the ones found were all female. Small females.”

  Kruger frowned. “Kids?”

  “No, mature skeletal structures. While the DNA analysis will take a while to confirm our assumptions, skeletal and skull structure suggest the bodies are of Asian descent.”

  “Huh.”

  “Do you want me to call you after I clean up and can get to my computer?”

  “That would be great, Teri.”

  An hour later, Kruger listened as Monroe briefed him on what the forensic teams found.

  “Instructions on where the bodies were buried led us to eight at present count. All were located in the northwestern states of Montana, Idaho, and Oregon.”

  Kruger used Google Maps to zero in on the area. “How far from Seattle?”

  “Good question. None were more than four hundred miles away.”

  “A hard one-day round trip, but doable.”

  “That was our conclusion as well.”

  “So your team believes these women are Asian?”

  “They do.”

  Taking a deep breath, Kruger let i
t out slowly. “If they were part of a human trafficking network and illegal, you won’t be able to ID them.”

  “Trust me, that thought has occurred to us.”

  “I take it nothing personal was found with the bodies.”

  “No, not even clothes.”

  “Really?”

  “We know Burns is an intelligent individual, but it’s almost like a cop buried them. He knew not to leave anything that would help with identification.”

  Kruger could almost hear the pieces of the puzzle fall into place as they coalesced into a picture he previously did not see.

  “Teri, would you call me if you find the other two bodies? I want to physically see the site.”

  “You got it, Sean. I’m supposed to get an update mid-morning. I’ll call you.”

  “Thanks, Teri.”

  ***

  The call came at 11:13 Central Time. Kruger was at his desk and answered on the second ring. “Kruger.”

  “Sean, it’s Teri. They found another one.”

  “Where?”

  “Mount Hood National Forest, about fifty miles east of Portland.”

  “I’ll call the travel desk and get a flight.”

  “No need. I just spoke to the director. An agency plane will pick you up in two hours. They can have you in Portland by late afternoon.”

  Smiling, Kruger appreciated the offer. “That sounds real good, Teri. I’ll have to thank Paul later.”

  The call ended and he sat back in his chair. His go bag was always ready, so packing wasn’t an issue. He made another call.

  “Gibbs.”

  “Jimmie, it’s Sean. How fast can you get to the Portland airport?”

  “About three hours, why?”

  “I need you to pick me up. We have a crime scene to examine.”

  “Text me your arrival time. I’ll be there.”

  ***

  Kruger and Gibbs stood outside the yellow tape, putting covers over their hiking boots and slipping latex gloves on their hands. The terrain was rugged and the tree canopy thick. Bright halogen lamps illuminated the scene, allowing them to examine the site even though it was approaching 9 p.m.

  Kruger looked at the site supervisor, a young forensic technician from San Francisco.

  “How deep was the body?”

  Raetia Tom was in her early thirties with black hair worn bundled tight under her FBI cap. Her brown eyes were almond shape, similar to JR Diminski’s wife, Mia. Her demeanor was professional, but when she looked at Gibbs, it softened.

  “About six inches of dirt, with twenty plus years of decomposing leaves increasing the depth slightly and helping hide the body.”

  Gibbs looked at her, an expression of surprise on his face. “You think she’s been there twenty years?”

  She nodded. “Probably twenty-one, she’s the last one identified in the Burns’ notebook. Plus, there isn’t any soft tissue remaining. Once we get her to the lab, we’ll know for sure.”

  Nodding, Kruger looked toward the open grave site.

  “May I look?”

  “Come on.”

  Kruger walked cautiously toward the excavation site and stopped several feet away. The skeleton was curled into a fetal position, allowing the grave to be small.

  “How did you find her?”

  “Ground penetrating radar. The information we were given about the body was at least one hundred meters off.”

  Gibbs knelt down to take a closer look. He stayed in the position for a solid ten minutes while Kruger walked to the other side of the grave. He too knelt next to the skeleton. Gibbs pointed to a spot on the skull.

  “Raetia, is that what I think it is?”

  “Yes, blunt force indentation of the pterion. The blow probably ruptured the middle meningeal artery, causing an epidural hematoma. But since there is no soft tissue remaining, it will be hard to determine exactly if that was the cause of death or a posthumous injury.”

  Kruger remained quiet as he examined the burial site. In the bright illumination of the halogen lamp, he saw something clutched within the skeletal hand under the body. He pulled a small mag light out of his jacket pocket and trained the beam on the hand.

  “I have something here, Raetia.”

  She moved next to Kruger and bent down. “Looks like a small pendant.”

  “Yeah, could you have your team get that for us?”

  She nodded.

  Thirty minutes later, Kruger sat in Gibbs’ rental car, looking at the small pendant in a plastic evidence bag. There was an inscription on one side that was hard to make out. Holding the object at a slight angle allowed him to see it better.

  Gibbs sat next to him, his hands on the steering wheel. “Can you make it out?”

  “No, looks like logograms.”

  “Let me see.”

  Kruger handed the bag to Gibbs, who studied the pendant at various angle toward the light of the car interior.

  “Yep, it’s Chinese.”

  “Can you read it?”

  Gibbs smiled at Kruger.

  “It’s a name.”

  Chapter 33

  Portland, OR

  With his shoulder pressing the cell phone against his ear, he studied the pendant, still in its official evidence bag. While he and Gibbs checked into a hotel and got a fitful night of sleep, the pendant had been examined and fingerprinted by the Portland FBI Field Office. They were in luck. A partial print was pulled from the pendant. Whose print it was remained a mystery, but Kruger was optimistic it was the victim’s.

  “JR, My-lai is the name on the pendant. Her age was probably early to mid-twenties when she died in 1997.”

  “Kind of a needle in a haystack search, Sean.”

  “I understand, but if I have the Bureau do it, I’ll still be waiting for an answer a year from now. You can do it faster.”

  “Okay, I’ll start with missing person reports and newspaper reports from the upper northwest area. I’ll include Oregon up through British Columbia. What kind of a timeline do you want?”

  “Try 1990 to 1997. Not sure how many you will get, but it might give us a starting point.”

  “Got it. I’ll call you when I have something.”

  Kruger turned to Gibbs, who was standing at the cubicle entrance.

  “What’s next?” Gibbs asked.

  “I think we need to pay Mr. Joel Moody a visit.”

  Gibbs smiled. “You thinking the same thing I’m thinking?”

  Nodding, Kruger gave Gibbs a crooked smile. “Maybe. Something’s not kosher about him.”

  “I think he’s a lying sack of shit.”

  Kruger grinned.

  ***

  The phone call came when they were twenty miles south of Olympia. Kruger answered on the second ring.

  “What did you find?”

  “You were correct to assume the name was important.”

  Hearing JR’s voice, Kruger smiled. “Tell me.”

  “The name on the pendant was the woman’s daughter. My-lai Chang is a twenty-seven-year-old high school teacher in Yakima. Her mother disappeared when she was seven.”

  Kruger was silent. “How did you find her?”

  Gibbs shot a quick glance at the senior FBI agent and then returned his attention to the road.

  “Most daily newspapers have gone digital over the past two decades, and their archives are also digital. I used one of my snooper programs. It got a hit in the archives of the Tacoma News Tribune about the disappearance.”

  Feeling a jolt of excitement, Kruger extracted a notebook from the backpack on the floor board in front of him. Pressing the phone to his ear, he said, “Give me the details.”

  “She teaches mathematics at West Valley High School, 9762 Zier Road in Yakima. Her Facebook profile indicates she’s single and lives in an apartment complex on 72nd Avenue.”

  “Boyfriend or roommates?”

  “Not according to her Facebook profile.”

  Kruger glanced at his watch and asked, “It’s 10 a.m. h
ere. How far are we from Yakima?”

  There was a brief pause and then JR returned, “About three hours.”

  “I’ll have the Seattle field office contact the school and ask what time would be convenient to talk to her today.”

  “I’ll keep searching for information on the mother.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks, JR.”

  ***

  Having the Seattle field office secure an appointment with My-lai Chang reduced the tension of two FBI agents appearing at the school. They were offered use of the principal’s office after arriving. Kruger also requested a school counselor or close friend of the woman’s to be in attendance, mainly due to the nature of their discussion.

  Thirty minutes after school was dismissed for the day, My-lai opened the door to the principal’s office and walked in. She was a petite woman, five feet tall, with black hair flowing midway to her back. Her brown eyes surveyed Kruger and Gibbs with a reserve bordering on suspicion. She was followed by an older woman in her mid-forties.

  Kruger started the conversation. “Ms. Chang?”

  The woman nodded.

  “My name is Sean Kruger and this is Jimmie Gibbs. We’re both Special Agents with the FBI.”

  This revelation startled the woman standing next to her.

  After studying Kruger for a few moments, she nodded and asked, “Is this about my mother?”

  Kruger nodded.

  “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

  Nodding again, Kruger gestured for her to sit down at a small conference table in the corner of the office.

  After everyone was seated, Kruger tilted his head slightly and asked gently, “Did you believe she was alive, Ms. Chang?”

  The woman shook her head, visibly relaxed, and clasped her hands in front of her.

  “No, I’ve always known she was dead, but when you don’t have a body to bury, there’s always a chance. Where was she?”

  The older woman placed her hand on My-lai’s shoulder, preparing for the news.