by Robin Mahle
She studied him as he continued inside and wondered how it was he didn’t know where she was from. Her past was an open book and she assumed everyone on her team knew exactly who she was. Especially considering Nick was their boss and had been knee-deep in the Hendrickson case, along with her.
As Quinn walked nearer, she stopped him. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“The rest of the team… do they know about me?”
“I assume you mean Hendrickson.”
She nodded, as if there was anything else to know about her.
“They know. Not in so much detail. But I’ve shared with them some of the information. I felt it was crucial before bringing you on.”
“I was just wondering how it was Walsh didn’t know I was from Eureka.”
“He was either being nice, making small talk, or maybe he didn’t know. I don’t recall shedding that much light on your background. Just that you’d been abducted from a small town in northern California,” he continued again. “Take it as he’s looking to get to know you. And that’s a good thing.”
Inside, the doctor again awaited their arrival. “Well, Chief, I can’t say as I’m happy to see y’all again. And it looks like you brought even more friends.”
The chief made the introductions and added, “These fine folks are going to be a big help and I’m sure glad to have it. You mind if we go on back? I’d like to get them started.”
“Follow me.” The doctor led the way back to the same room as before. Except now there was another body. “As you can see, we’re still waiting for authorization to release the other victims.” He turned to the chief. “Any idea when that might happen?”
“You’ll have to ask these folks.”
“I’m afraid we’ll need to keep them here until we can get all the results back,” Quinn began. “I think it’s imperative we don’t overlook what might seem even the smallest detail.”
“That’s what I was afraid you might say. I got these families wanting answers, as I’m sure the chief can attest.”
“If at all possible, we’ll just need to hold them off a while longer.” Quinn walked toward the latest victim. “This is Andy Walcott?”
“It is.” Tate moved in closer. “My boys found him late last night. Had to break the news to his folks shortly thereafter.”
“I’m sure that must’ve been very difficult,” Quinn replied.
“Difficult don’t even come close to what it was, Agent Quinn.” Tate eyed the others. “When we’re finished here, we’ll head out to the scene so y’all can see for yourselves.”
“The trauma appears to be more violent than what we saw on the previous victims,” Kate said.
“Maybe he put up a fight?” Quinn added. “He’s also larger, stronger than the other males. In fact, he doesn’t look at all like a strung-out addict. He appears to have an athletic build.”
“I don’t think he was,” Chief said. “His momma vehemently denies he was a user, though his daddy tends to believe he dipped his toe in occasionally. I know Doc here is still waiting for the tox screen to come back. And I suppose that will give us a clearer picture. But what you’re saying rings true. I reckon he was using only on a recreational basis.”
“The time’s come to put in place provisions to help safeguard the public. Let them know they would be putting themselves in danger if they engage in the purchase of the illegal prescriptions or any narcotics.”
“Agent Walsh, I don’t know how much you’re aware of the drug problem down here, particularly opioids. But damn near half the residents here use, and I’d say of that, at least a quarter are addicts.” Tate looked to the doctor. “Wouldn’t you say that’s a fair assessment?”
“Maybe even a little conservative.”
“Right.” The chief returned his attention to Walsh. “So to say to these people they need to stop buying drugs is akin to telling an alcoholic to stop buying booze. And that’s legal. You understand what I’m saying?”
“I do, Chief. And I can’t imagine the struggles you and your department have faced. But from what I know right now, danger surrounds them if they go in search of these drugs. Whatever we need to do to get through to them, I guess I’ll look for your input on that. But they need to know what’s happening—and why.”
“I understand where my colleague is coming from,” Quinn began. “But before we raise the alarm bells. Not that these people don’t already know about the murders. I think we should ascertain the extent of the victims’ histories. Find similarities. And develop a profile on the killer himself. I still don’t feel comfortable ruling out a gang or cartel trying to make a statement.”
Kate wanted to say something, that she wasn’t one hundred percent convinced of his theory. But she didn’t feel comfortable doubting him in front of everyone here. She had zero clout and she would have to come up with more in order to prove her theory before bringing attention to it. But there was something she could bring to light. “One thing I do find interesting is that these bodies have been discovered in known drug areas, so to speak. These are places people go to get high or to make their deals.”
“Which brings us back to the statement the killer or killers is making,” Quinn added.
“Okay, if we’re not ready to go public…” Walsh began.
“Oh, I’ve gone public. There’s no two ways about it. We had a town meeting a few nights ago. These people are already scared. And frankly, I don’t blame them because, right now, it doesn’t appear we know our asses from our elbows.” The chief paused to collect himself. “You’ll have to forgive me. It’s been a long week and I’m starting to feel a little more than frustrated at the situation. I need something I can work with here, fellas. And I thought that was why all you people come down here?”
“It is why we’re here, Chief. And unfortunately, without a complete picture, without all the labs and forensics, it makes our jobs that much harder.” Quinn looked to his team. “I think the best we can do right now is to go out to the crime scene and take a look. What I’m seeing here now is highly concerning. The killer is becoming more violent. I’ll tell you one thing, the victims are being killed somewhere else and then brought to these well-known drug hangouts. What we need to understand is where are they coming from? This is a small town. And I can’t believe no one has seen anything out of the ordinary. I think maybe someone has, but they’re afraid to talk.”
“Rightly so, I’d say,” the doctor replied.
“Regardless, we don’t have enough to go on right now. We need more. And with the help of you and your men, Chief, we need to get the word out that the Feds are here. That just might jolt someone into talking.”
“I think I can work with that, Agent Quinn. If you wouldn’t mind working out the details with me, Agent Walsh? Between us and your Agent Fisher, maybe we can reach out to the community more effectively while these two over here work to find out who the hell is killing the people of this town.”
10
The marching orders had been handed down. The chief and Deputy Lazaro, along with two members of the elite FBI Behavioral Unit, Walsh and Fisher, were to scour the town in search of anyone who could come forward with relevant information. The others would examine the crime scene in search of something that might have been overlooked.
The first person on the list was the man with whom Lazaro had already spoken, Sterling Jensen, an unreliable man who would certainly look out for his own best interests and who wasn’t bothered by the fact that people were dying all around him.
“I didn’t get much out of him last we spoke,” Lazaro said. “I can’t even say for sure if he’s still out there. Seems like he goes anywhere he can put his head down. Guy pretty much keeps to himself, by all accounts.”
“He’ll cooperate. Won’t have a choice,” Tate replied. “We can justify a search of the trailer. He doesn’t own it. I checked already. Place was abandoned years ago, like the rest of them. He was the only person to see Dawn Murph
y and I reckon he saw other stuff he’s keeping to himself too.”
“Best option we have is to see if he’s out there. Otherwise, we’re just spitting in the wind,” Lazaro added before turning to Walsh. “Unless you folks have a better idea?”
“No, sir. If he’s there, chances are better than fair this Jensen guy would see his way to cooperating. Most people do when they see the FBI at their door.”
“Better give it a shot.” The chief headed out of the station and waited for Fisher to unlock the SUV. He stepped into the passenger seat and peered through the windshield while the others made their way inside.
“Why do you call that place the Devil’s Den?” Fisher pulled onto the road and headed out.
Tate peered back at Lazaro before answering. “About thirty-odd years ago, that mineshaft collapsed. It was run by a small operation that cut corners. Nothing like the big mines on the other side of town. Anyway, it ended up killing some of the miners. They’re the ones who lived in them trailers. They never did find the bodies. They’re still buried behind the wall of dirt that came down about forty feet inside the shaft. Company went belly up; didn’t bother digging them out. And no one came to help. No one. People say the place is cursed. So that’s how it got its name.”
“Jesus,” Walsh replied. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Yes, sir. It is.”
“That’s it, up ahead, gentlemen,” Lazaro said.
Fisher eyed the grounds. “Place looks deserted.”
“I imagine word got round. What with the town meeting and the police barricade in front of the shaft,” Tate began. “Anyone foolhardy enough to stick around here must be in some kind of desperate shape.”
Fisher pulled alongside the trailer where the man in question had previously been seen. “We might be in luck. There is a car here.”
“Like I said, desperate. I’d appreciate if y’all let me initiate the discussions,” Tate added.
“We’ll follow your lead, Chief.” Walsh emerged from the vehicle into the dusky light of a setting sun. He pulled on his jacket for warmth. “I didn’t think it was supposed to get so chilly down here.”
“Oh, make no mistake, we get our share of winter weather. Maybe no snow, like where you fellas are from. But it can get downright nippy.” The chief started toward the door of the tin-clad trailer and knocked on the screen. “This is Crown Pointe police. We’d like to have a word.”
He turned to the others, and with a downturned mouth, shook his head. “This is Chief Tate with the Crown Pointe Police. Sterling, we’d just like to ask a few more questions of you is all.”
When there was still no answer, Walsh began, “Any chance he’s already vacated?”
“It’s sure looking like that. Why he would’ve left his car is beyond me, though.” The chief reached for the door handle. “Well, I’ll be damned, it’s unlocked. Reckon we should take a look round.” Upon opening the door, the stench seeped out. “Good Lord.” The chief covered his mouth and continued inside.
The rest of the men followed him into the small trailer.
“Smells like a dead body,” Walsh said. “Is there a bedroom in here or is this it?”
The scope of the living space consisted of a two-burner stove, a bar-sized refrigerator, and a microwave that took up most of the counter in the kitchenette. There was a sofa and coffee table a few feet away. With windows covered in tin foil, it was nearly pitch black inside, except for the opened door, which let in some gray light.
Lazaro walked to one of the windows and ripped down the foil. “Oh hell.” He peered at the two-seater sofa where a body lay sprawled across. “Is this the man we’re looking for?”
The chief approached him and studied the body. His shoulders dropped and a heavy sigh escaped him. “This is Wyatt Cavanaugh. Boy ain’t more than twenty-five.” The chief ripped his hat off his head and turned away. “Damnit!”
“I don’t see any trauma to the head,” Walsh began. “Not like the others.” He examined the young man closer. “Could this have just been an overdose?”
“Appears so. Seems like one hell of a coincidence, if that’s the case. Why here? In the very same place ol’ Sterling Jensen was seen the other day.” The chief turned to the agents. “Well, what do y’all think now? What words of wisdom can you impart on us that might explain what the hell happened here and why it don’t match the others.”
Fisher moved closer to the victim. “Until we run a tox screen, we can’t offer any answers for you, Chief. I’m sorry. I wish we could.”
As evening fell, so did their chances of finding the answers they sought. Kate and Noah Quinn now stood outside the shed where the recent victim, Andy Walcott, was discovered. Only he was different from the others and died a much more horrific and violent death.
“He’s the youngest of the victims to date. Which is troublesome enough. And there’s no doubt in my mind that whoever brought this young man here was male,” Quinn said.
“You won’t get an argument from me on that one. Andy Walcott was a strong kid. Looked like he played a lot of sports. So the person who brought him here was above average in height and weight. We’re talking a sizeable man.” Kate continued to observe the surrounding area. “I know we’re losing light, and I can’t be sure, but I didn’t notice any signs the unsub forcibly entered the home. The shed either.”
“No. But this doesn’t appear to be the most secure place. Especially if it’s generally used as a drug den.”
“Your cartel theory,” Kate continued, “it seems there would have been more than one person involved, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Not necessarily. Not if you recall my thoughts that it could be someone who has recently moved into the community. A precedent has been set for that.”
“Chief Tate is still waiting on county records, but he couldn’t recall anyone new in the past several months. And he seems to be on top of things around here.”
Quinn’s cell buzzed in his pocket. “It’s Walsh.” He answered the line. “Quinn here.”
Kate continued to examine the inside of the shed, using the light on her phone. What was she missing? The killer couldn’t possibly have been so methodical as to leave nothing behind. There was always something. Even something seemingly innocuous. She recalled a few of her past cases in which that had happened. She just needed to look harder.
A careful step inside the shed while Quinn continued his conversation and Kate studied the 4-foot by 6-foot metal box that someone had once used to care for their back lawn. But that must’ve been a long time ago. This was her chance to show them what she could do. There were plenty of times she laughed off her so-called sixth sense. Her ability to discover the minutiae and make a case. Nick always told her it was what made her remarkable. And while her modesty often got in the way of accepting such accolades, there were times when she felt absolutely driven by that sense. But could she summon that drive now, or would it fail her at this most crucial of times when more lives could be on the line and a killer or killers on the loose?
“What did you leave behind?” she whispered.
“Reid?”
Kate spun around, startled by the sound of her name.
“Geez, did I scare you?” Quinn asked.
“Sorry. I was deep in thought.”
“We need to go. They found a body, but they don’t think it’s related. No physical signs. Probably an OD. We’re needed back at the station for a briefing.”
“Sure.” Kate turned to leave and held up her phone to shut off its flashlight. And that was when she spotted it. A faint glimmer in the fading light. “Wait.” She aimed the phone at the frame of the shed’s door. “You need to see this.”
“What is it?” He stepped inside and turned his sights upward. “Is that a splintered piece of wood?”
“Looks like it to me. Except you see that? Does that look like blood to you?”
“Yes, ma’am, it does. Could still be fresh. Looks almost wet in that light. You h
ave a bag or something?”
“Hang on. I don’t have a bag, but I have gloves.” With the latex glove in her hand, she reached for the piece of wood, ensuring the glove was the only thing that made contact with it. And as she pulled it down, they both examined it.
“That’s definitely blood. In that little crevasse of the splinter,” Quinn said.
“What are the odds we’ll find prints or at least partials?”
“Won’t know until we test it.” He turned to her. “How the hell did you see that? Everyone’s scoured this place.”
“Dumb luck, I guess.”
The headlights of the rental SUV cut through the black skies as Quinn and Kate returned to the station house. He pulled into the lot and turned off the engine.
Peering into the building, its window blinds still open, Kate spotted everyone inside. “Looks like we’re the last ones to the party.” She opened the door and stepped outside, pulling on her jacket.
“Looks like it. I’m anxious to get this evidence into a lab. We’ll ask Ness to take it with him tonight to process.” Quinn held open the station door for Kate and both walked inside.
“Glad y’all made it back. I thought you might’ve gotten lost,” Lazaro said. “It gets pretty tough to navigate the area after dark, especially on the outskirts.”
“Did you find something?” Ness peered at the evidence Kate still held.
“A splinter, or rather broken chunk of wood, found on the door frame of the shed. Looks like it has blood on it. We were careful not to handle it. Any chance you can get this to your lab asap?”
“How the hell?” His face masked in surprise. “We searched that shed several times.”
“Don’t ask me how she found it,” Quinn started. “I didn’t see it. Reid spotted it wedged in some crevasse in the frame. I can only imagine it snagged on something when the killer left or…”
“Or, the beating didn’t happen somewhere else, like we thought,” Walsh added.
“That was my first thought too, except Quinn and I didn’t find any evidence it happened in the shed. No tissue or even blood, as I’m sure you all figured out. Best we can gather is like you said, Quinn, whatever it was that was used to strike the victim was caught on something and splintered. But the sooner we get this analyzed, the better we’ll be. If we can get DNA or fibers from it, hell, even identify the object itself, we’ll be that much closer.”