Deserted

by E. H. Reinhard

  “I found a gun,” Kitty said. She popped back through into the truck’s sleeper, holding the weapon up. “Revolver. Looks like a throwaway.” Kitty opened the cylinder and looked down. “It’s loaded.” She flipped the cylinder closed and jammed it into her waistline. “About it. The rest was just dirty clothes and a pair of headphones that I’ll be keeping. What did you get?”

  “About six hundred bucks, a knife, and a couple of fake IDs.”

  “Fake IDs, knife, and a gun? He was probably robbing anyone who stopped for him. Well, until he got to us.” Kitty began to fix the pulled down curtain.

  “Yup.” Kerry slapped her hand down on the dead man’s chest. “Looks like Tim here was a regular Billy Bad Ass. Okay, let’s toss his ass outside and be on our way. I wasn’t kidding about stopping in a bit. We need some fuel, and I’m starving.” Kerry pulled the money from the wallet and placed the empty billfold in a shoe box filled with others, on the shelf near the television. The shelves beside the shoe boxes contained miscellaneous trinkets, knives and other goods they’d taken from other victims. She scooped up the pocket knife from the bed, thumbed it closed and jammed it into her shorts pocket.

  “Okie dokie.” Kitty finished with the curtain and grabbed the man’s legs. “Get those cuffs off of him and grab his arms.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  I pulled the truck into the driveway, stepped out the driver’s door, and went to the roll-up door at the back. I grabbed the metal arm holding the door down and swung it to the left. The door clacked loudly and rose. A mountain of boxes stared me in the face. The pain in my lower back started with just the sight of them. While the movers had brought most of the furniture over to our new place the day prior, I was on my second run with the small moving truck we’d rented for all of our little things in the townhouse that needed to be boxed.

  I heard a motor cut off and a car door close at my back. Behind me, Beth was walking to the passenger door of her car. She opened it and reached inside. I grabbed a stack of boxes from the back of the truck and balanced them with my chin.

  “Where would you like this thing?” Beth asked.

  I turned back toward Beth, who was holding Porkchop in her arms.

  “He’s not a thing.” I chuckled.

  “He’s a fat, slobbering, drool machine,” Beth said. “He slimed my whole car up.”

  “You should have rolled down the window. Then his slime would have only been on the outside of your car. Besides, I’m sure there’s a pile of napkins on your passenger-side floor that you can use to clean up his slobber.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. “And you’d like him where?”

  “Just set him down, he’ll be fine.”

  Beth squatted down and let out a groan as she set Porkchop down on the driveway of Karen’s and my new house. “This little fat ass weighs a ton.”

  Porkchop came directly for me and sat at my foot.

  I set the boxes I was holding down again on the back of the moving truck and gave Porkchop a pet. “Don’t let her talk to you like that. You’re a good boy.” I fished a treat from a baggie in my pocket and tossed it to him.

  He caught and swallowed it in one motion.

  “Go on. Go play.”

  Porkchop walked a few feet, spun in a circle, and lay down in the grass.

  “You’re not worried about him running off?” Beth asked.

  “He’s not much of a runner, and I have a pocket full of treats. He’s not going anywhere.”

  “Babe!” Karen called from near the house.

  I turned toward our white two-story colonial and saw her head poking out from the front door.

  “Do you know where the box with the silverware is?” she asked.

  “Buried in here somewhere is my guess. I remember grabbing it.”

  “Okay.” She disappeared back into the house.

  I scooped up the boxes from the truck again.

  “Just grab and go?” Beth asked.

  “Yup. It all has to go inside.”

  Beth stacked a couple boxes on top of each other and slid them from the back. We started for the house with Porkchop doing his best to be under my feet. I stepped up the couple of stairs, crossed the front porch, entered the house, and made a left for the kitchen. Karen stood over a box on the kitchen table, pulling newspaper-wrapped plates from inside. I set down the boxes I was carrying on the floor near the refrigerator and motioned for Beth to do the same.

  “Were you able to get everything left at the townhouse?” Karen asked.

  “Not hardly. One more run, and I think I can jam the rest in.”

  Karen put her back to the counters on the far end of the kitchen, looked at me, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m still waiting for the I told you so,” she said.

  “It’s fine,” I said.

  “No, you were right. I’ll admit it. We needed the bigger truck.”

  “I think we actually needed the biggest truck.”

  “I just didn’t think we’d have that much stuff after the movers grabbed all of the furniture. My fault,” Karen said. “When does the truck have to be back?”

  “Tomorrow morning at ten,” I said. “I called for another day when I realized that I’d still have to do another run. Figure I’ll get up nice and early and knock out the last trip.”

  “Okay,” Karen said. “You didn’t want to make that other run tonight and get it out of the way?”

  “I’d rather do it in the morning,” I said. “I’d like to try to take it easy a little tonight. Maybe have a few beers, put a few things away. Relax a bit.”

  “Sure,” Karen said.

  “More boxes?” Beth asked. “Keep the production line going?”

  “I’ll haul if you want to just give Karen a hand getting stuff put away.”

  “What a gentleman,” Beth said.

  Beth passed me and walked toward Karen, standing at the kitchen counter. Beth’s line of sight spanned left to right across the stacked boxes, covering everything, including the floor.

  “What do you want me to start with?” Beth asked.

  “Glasses in this box here, going in that cupboard there.” Karen pulled a box marked Glasses from the counter and handed it to Beth. She then pointed toward the white upper cabinet to the right of a stainless double sink.

  “Come on, mutt,” I said. “Let’s let the ladies have the kitchen and go do man stuff.” Porkchop followed me from the kitchen back outside. I walked to the moving truck and stacked another set of boxes to take inside. I looked down at Porkchop—he did look a bit rounder than he probably should have been.

  “I should tie a wagon to you or something,” I said.

  He cocked his head to the side.

  “At least you’ll get some exercise following me back and forth to the house.” I heaved the boxes up into my arms and started for the house. Porkchop followed me about ten feet and then plopped down in the grass, where he immediately rolled onto his back and kicked his legs in the air while he squirmed.

  “Stupid dog,” I said.

  After reaching the front porch, I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. I set down the boxes and pulled it out. The text message was from Ball, telling me to call the office. I stretched my back and started for the bench on the front porch. Beth appeared from the front doorway just as I was taking a seat.

  “Did you just get a message from Ball?” she asked.

  “Yup. I’m calling him now,” I said.

  She nodded and leaned against the open doorway.

  I dialed Ball and held my phone to my ear—it rang twice before he picked up.

  “Hey, still moving?” Ball asked.

  “I am. Beth’s here. What’s up?”

  “Well, I know you’re kind of in the middle of something there, but I’m sending the whole team out Monday morning. If you need an extra day or two before joining them, that would be fine.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but if we have something hot, I’ll be out with the rest of the team. What’s going
on?”

  “We have a string of homicides roughly following Interstate 40 and then 30 into Texas. The method of kill on our victims is via strangulation. The remains all have telltale signs of being choked to death with a rope. All the bodies were dumped within a few feet of the roadway.”

  “Are we thinking that this has something to do with the Highway Serial Killings Initiative?” I glanced over at Beth, who’d perked up at me mentioning something the Bureau had been investigating for the better part of seven years.

  “It’s in the same general area,” Ball said. “We’re not ruling it out, but these are similar in fashion to something we had about six years ago. I shouldn’t really say similar—they’re exact. We investigated the homicides then but came up empty. Bill was on it, so he’ll give you some background when you guys talk.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Here is what we know as far as these latest victims. The area of homicides that we are tying together goes from North Carolina and is heading for Texas, we believe—that is, if it’s following the same path as the last time. The bodies the last time were found all the way to El Paso and then back up toward the Carolinas. The latest bodies were all found within a few feet of the roadway, and all occurred in the last few days. Four total right now. Three females, one male. Two females had priors for prostitution. A broken-down car was found linked to the other female victim. The single male was last seen at his workplace—a truck stop near Benton, Arkansas.”

  “Okay. So our suspect isn’t after a certain type of victim?” I asked.

  “Our killer or killers do not discriminate. All ages, heights, weights, and races. All walks of life.”

  “Killers?” I asked. “As in plural?”

  “Possibly. I was getting to that. It’s really our only thing that might, possibly, be a lead. We have two hairs not belonging to victims found with two of the most recent bodies—one blond, one black. We just got the DNA profiles back. Female, and they’re from the same unknown source. Both hairs were dyed.”

  “Okay, so we have a female with blond-and-black dyed hair,” I said. “And not in the system, I’m assuming.”

  “System, no.”

  “So what makes you think we’re dealing with more than a single suspect?” I asked.

  “Well, that’s where it gets more interesting. It’s something that I’d like you and Beth to check out prior to diving in with Scott and Bill. We have what could be a possible eyewitness. Granted, it’s a six-year-old eye witness but may be worth checking in with and speaking to, regardless. Hold on. Let me read this to you.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  Rustling came from Ball’s end of the telephone before he came back on. “This is a statement that was given to our call center the first time we investigated this. I stumbled upon this in our old investigation file after this latest information on the DNA came in.”

  Ball read me the statement. The gist of it was that the guy giving the statement had some car trouble and was hoofing it along the side of the highway. A semi pulled up, and two girls popped out of the passenger window, asking if he’d like a ride—one blond and one with black hair. The man stated that, aside from the hair color, they looked to be twins. He went on to say that the truck appeared to have blood on the outside metal steps. The man declined and continued walking. They followed for a bit, the girls asking if he was sure and things of that nature, before they finally drove away. The incident was reported in the vicinity of where a body was found the following day.

  “So we could possibly be dealing with twins. This was never looked into?” I asked.

  “We did a phone interview with the man as a potential witness, which was why it was in the file. I guess he called it into the tip line we had on the investigation at the time. The guy didn’t get a tag number on the tractor trailer and never got a look at the driver. He said the two girls were teenagers. Aside from him claiming that he might have seen blood, there was really not much there. When you add the fact that it was four thirty in the morning and still dark, there was even less. But,” Ball said with emphasis, “now that we know we’re dealing with a blonde and a woman with black hair that share the same DNA profile, there could be a little more to the guy’s story. I’d like you and Beth to meet with him and run through any small details he might be able to provide.”

  “Six years is a long time to remember little details,” I said.

  “It’s worth a swing. Plus, he’s not too far from where you guys will be headed.”

  “Which is?” I asked.

  “Flying into Dallas Fort Worth,” Ball said. “You guys can take your rental car to meet up with him. The guy lives up near Texarkana, still in Texas, though. Maybe a hundred-mile drive from the DFW area.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Why Dallas?”

  “From what we can go on from the last string of these that we had, it’s the area the suspect or possible suspects will pass through twice. It’s a good place to set up, and the Bureau office there will have the most resources at your disposal. Think you can pop into the office for a bit tomorrow morning?” Ball asked. “Say nine o’clock or so. Probably won’t take more than an hour or two to go over everything.”

  I glanced at the still-full moving truck in the driveway. My night of trying to take it easy with a couple of beers vanished at his request—I had to make another run with the moving truck. That meant I needed to get it emptied, filled, and emptied again. I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to do it either in the morning before I stopped in at the office, or after in order to avoid paying for another additional day.

  “That’s fine,” I said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “You said Beth was there?” Ball asked.

  I looked over at her. “Yeah, she’s right here. Did you need to talk to her?”

  “Nope, just let her know.”

  “Will do,” I said.

  I clicked off and cracked my neck from side to side.

  “Well?” Beth asked.

  “We’re headed to Texas.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Beth and I had landed at DFW, grabbed our rental cars, parked one at our hotel near the airport, and had been driving a good hour and a half. She’d just started in on the inevitable conversation topic that came up any time we were confined together or just happened to be done working for the day—her ex-husband then ex-boyfriend, Scott. I was a bit surprised that she took as long as she did to broach the topic, but I still wasn’t all that interested.

  “So I tell him, to hell with that, you pay the final cable bill there,” Beth said. “Why should I? You know? Because I recorded a couple of shows?”

  “Right,” I said.

  I stared out the passenger-side window at whatever little roadside town we were passing, littered with gas stations and restaurants at the sides of the interstate. Beth continued her rant about Scott and the cable bill for another minute or two before her words kind of became background noise. I began thinking about the guy we were about to interview—I couldn’t imagine, that after six years, he’d be able to provide anything of value to our current search. Beth’s rambling paused for a bit too long, catching me off guard. She might have asked a question. I looked over to see her staring at me.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “I think you’re right.” I didn’t have the foggiest idea what the question was but figured that agreeing with her was probably the correct choice.

  Beth rolled her eyes. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

  “Yeah, I am. I’m agreeing with you.”

  She just stared at me.

  “Scott and the cable bill,” I said.

  “That was like two topics ago. I asked what the navigation says. I think our exit should be coming up here in a second.”

  “Oh, yeah. Hold on.” I tapped on my cell-phone’s screen, sitting in my lap, and the navigation screen came back up. “Our exit is in three miles. ETA is only twelve minutes, so it can’t be too far from the interstate.” />
  “So you were tuning out my talk about Scott?” Beth asked. “Sorry, I just thought I’d get your opinion. I didn’t know I was boring you to death.”

  “I was just tossing around a couple things regarding the investigation. Sorry.”

  “What was the last thing you heard regarding Scott?”

  I tried to remember if I’d heard anything she talked about while I was tuning her out. I had a faint recollection of the word lease.

  “Lease,” I said.

  “So you were kind of listening.”

  I shrugged.

  “So his lease is up at the end of the month, and then he’ll be going back to Chicago. I have to say it will kind of be a relief when I know he’s gone.”

  “I thought he’d stopped blowing your phone up all the time.”

  “He has. I only talked to him once this week, which was him trying to get me to pay his cable bill. But, you know, I can just still feel that he’s nearby. It will be better when that goes away.”

  I nodded.

  “I mean, we gave it another shot, and it didn’t work. It’s time to just be completely done and move on with life.”

  I gave her another nod and looked down at my GPS. “Next exit.”

  Beth checked her blind spot and moved a lane to the right. “Plus, I’d rather he not be around when I start dating again.”

  “You’re thinking about that already?”

  “Oh, hell no. I’m taking some time for Beth. But I could see that if he lingered around and we stayed in contact, it would make things harder.”

  “Sure.”

  Beth went quiet, which I assumed meant the topic had been concluded, at least until she got the urge to bring it up again.

  “This is us?” Beth pointed at the upcoming exit.

  “Yup. Veer onto that then look for Highway 11. Then it looks like we go down 11 for a couple miles and get off. The address is only a mile or so from there.”

  We drove mostly in silence, broken only by my directions, toward our destination.

  “That’s going to be the driveway there,” I said.

  Beth clicked on her directional and made a right into a gravel driveway that stretched about as far as you could see. Bordering the driveway on both sides was livestock fencing. I spotted a group of cattle off in the distance to our right. To our left up ahead was a large metal building, which looked more agricultural than residential. Near one of the open garage doors was an older pickup truck—a couple men sat on the open tailgate, and a few more rummaged about, moving in and out of the building. The driveway led us directly toward the big metal building and split off to the right and left directly before it.