The Body at Midgley Bridge

by Charles Williamson

  It was 2:30 that afternoon that Mike got the bad news he was dreading. Mohave County’s, Captain Bill Ponder called.

  “Mike we have a report of a Mercedes SUV in ten-foot-deep water in Lake Mead. It’s from a fisherman who used a remote and informal boat ramp in far northern Mohave County. Mostly only locals use the Salt Brush Launch because it’s not on lake maps. It’s a forty-mile drive on a dirt road that’s impassable after a heavy rain. In the spring, there might be one or two fishermen camped nearby on a weekday. I have a tow truck and two divers headed to the boat ramp, but those fancy Mercedes Campers are rare. Our killer has probably dumped his. Sheriff Duncan and I are driving to the location now, but we’ll have no cell service there. I’ll call you as soon as we return to an area with service. Please, let that ass Goldman know about the report. I don’t want to talk to that arrogant prick.”

  Mike was a little surprised by the “arrogant prick” comment, but that had been Mike’s first impression as well. Bill Ponder had fifty years of law enforcement experience in Arizona, and he would not be happy being talked down to by a much younger man from the federal government. Mike walked down the hall to the conference room and passed on the bad news.

  Agent Goldman commented, “We can’t trust that old fellow Ponder with this important case. He should have retired decades ago. I want our people to do the forensics on the van. There might still be evidence, including fingerprints. Is there a place to land an airplane or helicopter near this campground?”

  “Probably for a helicopter but not an airplane. It’s very remote, forty miles from the nearest paved road. It’s an informal boat ramp and campground mostly used by locals called Salt Brush Launch. It’s not listed on any maps. Maybe the Lake Mead rangers know exactly where it’s located.”

  Adam Goldman stood and said, “Timothy and Brandon you’re coming with me. We’ll charter a helicopter so we can prevent these local yokels from ruining our evidence. He didn’t invite Mike along, but this was actually not his case. He went back to his office.

  Mike was ready to leave at about 5:15 when he got a call from Bill Ponder. “Hi Mike. As expected, those Feds ran us off as soon as they swooped down in their helicopter choking us with dust and debris, and blowing the tracks and other evidence away. I guess we’re not on the case anymore. They had the tow truck driver take the camper van to their compound in Phoenix. The driver is a friend of mine who was doing me a favor, and he was not happy about driving all the way to Phoenix. The Feds insisted it was a matter of national security. One of the agents rode with him as they left.”

  “What else, Bill. I can tell by your tone that’s not the whole story.”

  “Agent Goldman told us to keep it quiet, but the bad news is that it had the camper had the Arizona Cardinals license tag GO!CARDS. I’m afraid you’ll get very bad news soon about that family that owned that vanity tag. The other bad news is that the downwash from the helicopter uncovered some blood evidence. I think there was someone else at the campground, and that our killer now has his vehicle. We found a fishing pole and tackle box on the bank near the ramp. The killer had spread sand over the fresh blood, and the sheriff and I missed it. The body could be anywhere, and we have no idea what the victim was driving. I guess that’s the feds problem now, but I’ll keep an eye out for missing fishermen and call you if one is reported.”

  “Thanks Bill. I’ll see you in June at the state law enforcement meeting and buy you a steak for lunch. I owe you for the heads-up.”

  Unfortunately, Mike now saw almost no hope of an early arrest. The Park Sniper would kill again before he was stopped. Mike contacted the address list of his peers in law enforcement to let them all know that the van had been dumped. He repeated the description of the suspect in both the Hoover Dam and the Midgley Bridge homicides but warned that the man might have shaved his beard and otherwise changed his appearance. He attached a digital copy of the FBI drawings of the suspect. He reminded them that the current description was for someone who looked exactly like Sebastian Gorka, a FOX news celebrity, but he suspect that it had been a deliberate disguise. His best hope now was that they would discover what sort of vehicle had been stolen from the missing fisherman at Salt Brush Launch.

  As he drove home through Oak Creek Canyon, Mike failed to enjoy the spring beauty of the mountain stream rushing down the deep canyon toward Sedona. His mind was on the failure to find the Park Sniper from the quality information about his vehicle. Although they still had a description, the man in the photos from Hoover Dam was probably wearing a fake hairpiece to imitate a celebrity. The general body type and weight would remain the same, but he would know for certain that his face had been recorded on the video at the dam. Driving across the dam twice seemed deliberate. Mike also brooded about the Gregory family. He expected that Mr. Gregory and his four sons were dead, but the chances of finding their remains quickly were not good. East Central Arizona was a mountainous and forested area with an extremely low population. In some cases he’d heard of human remains found many years after their deaths.

  Margaret knew he’d had bad news as soon as Mike entered the kitchen. She hugged him and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “He dumped the van and probably killed someone else to steal their vehicle. The van had the license tag of John Gregory’s Tahoe. He and his four young sons are still missing.”

  She continued to hug him and said, “I love you. Tell me all about it over dinner.”

  They ate a simple soup and salad meal at the kitchen table. Maybe not so simple since the soup was extremely rich French-style crab bisque and the salad was roasted beets with Roquefort crumbles and toasted pine nuts. Mike explained his day from the call from the Mohave County Sheriff’s Department about the van in Lake Mead to the updates he’d received from Bill Ponder and Agent Goldman at the end of the day.

  “Agent Goldman asked me to continue to coordinate the Arizona search, but he thinks the sniper has moved on. Since the last killing was very close to the Nevada state line, he wants to focus on Nevada, Utah, and California. Goldman and his team fear the Park Sniper is spinning farther out of control, and the murders will become more frequent. If he murdered the five members of the Gregory family, it would be his first time to kill more than one person at one time or to murder small children. The youngest boy was only two.”

  Mike noticed the tears in Margaret’s eyes. She always wanted to know the details of his cases, but some cases were extremely hard on her emotionally. They didn’t speak for a few minutes.

  After the pause in their conversation, Margaret said, “Arizona is a target rich environment with many national parks and national monuments. He might not be finished here. The whole thing at Hoover Dam seems a deliberate effort to focus the investigation on a vehicle and physical description that he planned to change. Remember, he’s called the Park Sniper. Think about where in Arizona he might strike. My guess is that he won’t leave the state without a murder at the most famous place in the state.”

  “The Grand Canyon?” Mike stuttered. “If he can shoot accurately at a distance of over a kilometer, he could kill hikers or tourists from a thousand different vantage points. To enter the park, you need to stop and pay. I’ll send the FBI drawings of the suspect with and without a beard to the park officials tomorrow and ask that they distribute it to all the rangers and other employees who deal with the public. I’ll do the same to all of the rest of the national monuments, state parks, and national parks in Arizona. Until we learn what he’s driving, that physical description is all we have to go on.”

  “Good Mike. You’ve already figured out what to do next. If you learn what he’s driving, you’ll be back to where you were before his change of vehicles. I didn’t have time to make a dessert, but we have some Talenti Double Dark Chocolate ice cream in the freezer.”

  Even in his bad mood, Mike couldn’t say no to that.

  Chapter 13

  The next morning, Mike had the support staff send the digital version of the FBI drawings of
the suspect, with and without a beard, to the supervisors of all thirty-five state historical sites, natural areas, and parks. He also notified all twenty-four national parks, national monuments, and national historical sites located in Arizona. Margaret had been correct; Arizona was a target-rich state for the Park Sniper. Mike composed a message to go with the images saying the drawing was of a suspect in multiple homicides in Arizona and other states. He warned that the suspect was extremely dangerous. He should not be confronted directly or allowed to realize he’d been recognized. They should contact Mike on his cell phone, day or night, if they sighted the suspect. No one should attempt to apprehend him without strong well-armed backup, preferably an experienced SWAT unit. The notification process was complicated by the fact that not all of the sites had full-time employees with access to digital information. The most remote locations might not get the photos immediately and a few sites were not even manned full-time.

  Around ten o’clock, Agent Goldman came into Mike’s office to let him know that the Park Sniper Task Force was relocating to the Las Vegas FBI office. Mike told him about the distribution of the drawings to the state and national parks, and that he was waiting for word of a missing fisherman being reported in Mohave County.

  “If you get a description of the vehicle or a sighting from the drawings call my cell. Notifying all of those park people might help find the sniper, but it will make it more difficult to keep confidential the news of the Park Sniper’s trail of homicides. We may need to make some public announcement soon, but that’s a decision for the highest levels at the FBI and Justice Department. So far they’ve not been willing to make the danger public. I strongly recommended that we go public three months ago and got an absolute ‘hell no’ from the highest possible level of the Justice Department.”

  Adam Goldman handed Mike his card. On the back his personal cellphone number had been hand written. He shook hands and left Mike’s office. Within minutes, Mike heard Goldman and his entire team leave the conference room. Mike decided it was a good time to give Sheriff Taylor an update.

  After a few minutes of Mike reviewing the current evidence with Sheriff Greg Taylor, the sheriff called his counterpart in Mohave County, Jimmy Duncan, to see if there was any new information. He put Sheriff Duncan on the speaker and mentioned that he was with Mike Damson.

  Duncan’s tone was irritation, not fury. “Those asses from the FBI ran us off the site, but now they want us back on the case to find out whose vehicle was taken and what happened to the owner. I went on a popular morning radio show to ask if anyone knew of someone who went to the Salt Brush Launch to fish or camp and hadn’t returned. The radio show is the most popular local news source for Kingman and Lake Havasu City. I hope the word gets around and someone will call today. We’ll use a plane to look for a body along the long stretch of gravel road that leads to the boat launch and search the cove of Lake Mead near the launch. The water is clear enough to see a body even in the deepest sections. I will soon join Tom and three other people on horseback searching the area on either side of the road that leads from the highway to the Salt Brush Launch. That will probably take all day, but I’ll call you, Mike, with any update. You can pass it along to the rest of Arizona law enforcement and the feds. From the amount of blood uncovered at the site, we don’t expect to find the victim alive.”

  Mike thought of Ms. Riley, the five Gregory’s, the Kansas woman at Hoover Dam, and the fisherman at Salt Brush Launch. Just the Arizona part of this case was already the largest homicide spree in recent Arizona history.

  “Mike,” Sheriff Duncan said, “I think you know quite a bit about these cases that the FBI was willing to share with you and not with me. Are we dealing with a serial killer?”

  “Sheriff, I’m sorry that they swore me to secrecy, but they wouldn’t have an ten person task force on a single murder at Hoover Dam. I think we’ve got eight victims in Arizona already, and the task force was formed long before our first local homicide.”

  “Shit. Why the hell are they keeping this all secret?”

  “Agent Goldman was wondering the same thing this morning before he and his team left for Las Vegas. It was a very high-level Washington decision. Someone very senior has forbidden any public acknowledgement of the FBI’s role or the number of homicides.”

  This was followed by an obscenity from Sheriff Duncan and the comment, “Keeping this under wraps is getting more people killed. The drawings of the suspect should be on national news every night. Damn politics! There’s a bunch of shiny-suited political hacks running the FBI nowadays.”

  Mike didn’t agree with that comment. Goldman had told him the decision had been made by the Justice Department, but he didn’t understand their reason for the secrecy so he said nothing.

  Sheriff Taylor thanked Sheriff Duncan for the update and hung up. They discussed the case for a few more minutes, and Mike went back to his office hoping for some news on the Gregory family.

  It was about two in the afternoon when he received a call from his friend, Marty Harris, of the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Department. “Mike, we got lucky. We have people on horseback approaching a Tahoe that was hidden under a dense stand of trees about twenty miles from the Greenlee County campground where the Gregory family was last seen. The sun was at the perfect angle to reflect off the back window and be spotted by our plane. I should have more information in an hour or two. The pilot thought there was at least one body in the front seat. I’m afraid the news will be bad.”

  “Thank you Marty. It is truly very bad news, but what I’ve been expecting. There is an FBI role in this case. They may want to be involved in the evidence processing. I’ll notify them and give them your number. Mr. Gregory has four sons, the youngest is only two.” Mike deliberately didn’t use the past tense to describe the children, but that was based on hope rather than logic.

  Marty paused. “You think this is related to one of your cases in Sedona and that the FBI should be involved? I think there is a lot more going on than I realize.”

  “Marty, if the kids are dead, I think this is eight homicides in the past week. You should soon be hearing from Agent Adam Goldman or a member of his task force.”

  “FBI task force and eight murders, that sounds very like horrific news. I’ll call again when I have more information.”

  Mike called Agent Goldman. “Mike, what’ve you got?”

  “The Gregory’s Tahoe has probably been found in a dense stand of pine trees less than twenty miles from the campsite. The pilot thinks there is at least one body in the driver’s seat. A team is approaching it on horseback, but if you want your forensic unit involved you should call Captain Marty Harris of the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Department. They’ve been working the missing persons case on the Gregory family because his ex wife reported it to them. His cell is 623 555 4619.”

  Goldman grunted and said, “Damn. Thanks Mike.” He hung up before Mike could say anything else.

  Mike was walking to the parking lot at five thirty when Captain Bill Ponder called from Kingman. “We found our missing fisherman. He’s a guy I’ve know my whole life named Jerry Brewer. Four tours as a Marine in Nam, two purple hearts, and he gets murdered while fishing. He had a bullet right between the eyes and the whole back of his head blasted out. We were in the VFW together, and he was a past president of our post. Don’t repeat this, but if we find the bastard who killed him in Mohave County, the bastard’s remains will never be found.”

  Mike was a straight arrow when it came to the rule of law, and he didn’t like Bill’s comment, but he thought it was merely anger talking. “What did your friend drive?”

  “Jerry’s fishing truck was an old white Ford 150 with a camper shell. He dumped Jerry and the camper shell about twenty miles from the highway. I think it was about a 2007 or 2008, but Jerry kept it in good shape. Of course, that is about the most popular vehicle in Arizona, so it’s not a great lead.”

  “Have you let Agent Goldman know?”

  “S
heriff Duncan has called him. I didn’t want to talk to that young jerk.”

  “Thanks for calling me Bill. I’m sorry for the loss of your friend. I’ll get the vehicle news out to our Arizona contact list. I assume he’ll ditch the license tag. Let me know if anyone reports a missing one.”

  Unfortunately, a smart criminal would know to replace a license tag with a similar one leaving a victim’s tag in its place on the other vehicle. How often do people look at their own tag number? Mike walked back to the operations area of the department and had the update of the vehicle sent to law enforcement and the state and national park lists. He knew at least ten people in Sedona and Flagstaff who owned white Ford 150’s. It would be one of the most difficult vehicles to trace because it was the most common is rural Arizona. He wasn’t optimistic. The murder of Jerry Brewer had occurred more than twenty-four hours ago. The sniper could be anywhere in Arizona or adjoining states, and by now, he might have changed vehicles again.”

  That evening, Mike and Margaret were having dinner on the deck and watching the sunset when Mike’s phone rang. The caller ID indicated it was Marty. He went into the office to take the call. He felt it would be bad news.

  Marty’s voice was choking as he explained. “He slaughtered the four boys by slitting their throats, one at a time, oldest to youngest. The bodies were piled on top of each other. I can’t imagine the horror of the younger boys. He grabbed their arms and bent them over the killing spot, slit their throats and held them till they bled out.”