by L. T. Vargus
“Oh yeah. If there are bodies here, we’ll find them,” Tara said. “Just give the word when you want to get started.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
With a curt nod, Tara gave a command and Hiro bounded away, nose to the ground. He scurried over the dusty terrain toward a line of large boulders meant to keep vehicles off the trail. A few yards from the giant rocks, he gave a short bark, turned in a circle, and laid down.
“Boom. He’s got something,” Tara said.
Dr. Siskin’s team wasted no time getting set up. She’d brought along two more students this time, and they began by erecting a canopy over the dig site to provide at least a scrap of shade while they worked.
They spent the next several hours digging. It was a scenario Darger was starting to get used to. She lugged out the cooler filled with ice and water and found her own sliver of shade near the dig site to hunker down in.
A few hours after first breaking ground, they found something. Shredded blue material.
Darger felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise when she recognized what it was.
“A tarp.”
Inside, they discovered the mostly skeletal remains of a young woman. Just like the bodies they’d found in the footlockers under the shed, the skin looked like dry, black leather.
Darger got out her phone and dialed Prescott.
“We’ve got one. They’re pulling it out now.”
“Excellent,” Prescott said. “I’ll phone Coonan.”
The dig team had excavated around the tarp as best they could before they finally lifted it out of the makeshift grave.
“I think I see more,” Dr. Siskin said.
She prodded at the wall of the grave with the point of her trowel. Dirt fell away, revealing what looked like part of a black plastic trash bag.
Prescott and Coonan showed up just as Siskin and some of the Sheriff’s crime scene techs started going over the body from the blue tarp. In a tent set up near the dig area, they itemized the fibers, clothing, and other items found along with the girl’s body.
“What’s that?” Coonan asked, pointing to a dust smudged rectangle that might have been pink or red at one point, but was now a soiled brown.
“A wallet,” one of the techs answered. “You can look through it if you’re gloved up.”
He exchanged an eager glance with Prescott, but neither one gave any indication that they were about to “glove up” to poke through a grave wallet.
Darger snapped on a pair of nitriles and flipped it open.
It had a clear ID card pocket, but the plastic was caked with dirt. She rubbed some of the filth away with a gloved thumb and read the name on the license aloud.
“Madelaine Godeau.”
Prescott pursed her lips.
“That’s not one of the names he gave us.”
Coonan got out his phone and tapped at the screen with his thumbs. A moment later, he scowled and thrust his phone back in his pocket.
“The signal out here is garbage,” he muttered. “OK, so what are we thinking? Is it possible he got the names mixed up? Or maybe there are more people buried here than he remembers?”
The pair of gold spikes dangling from Prescott’s ears swung like pendulums when she shook her head.
“I highly doubt that. He’s got a photographic memory.”
Darger bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from commenting on the fact that Stump’s eidetic memory had gone from speculation to fact in a very short time.
“Whatever it is, it’s not his usual signature,” Darger said. “He usually removes anything identifying so it’s harder to ID them. It’s another layer of control for him if we need his help figuring out who they are.”
Coonan chewed on this, his jaw literally moving as he thought.
“OK, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll head back into town and see what I can find on the owner of our mystery wallet. You ladies hang around here and keep me updated.”
They hung out under the shade of one of the tents, watching Siskin and her students gently remove the soil around the garbage bag.
“I admire what you’re doing,” Prescott said after several minutes of silence.
“Standing here under the Mojave sun, slowly developing skin cancer?”
“I’m talking about coming back here. Sitting down to face off with Stump. After everything you went through? That takes guts.”
Darger tilted her head to one side.
“Some might call it poor judgment.”
Prescott chuckled and put her hand on Darger’s shoulder.
“Sometimes there’s a thin line between being ballsy and being an idiot,” she said and removed her hand. “Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. Victor told me you were brave.”
Lowering her sunglasses, Prescott gave her a conspiratorial look.
“Has Victor ever told you about his early days at the Bureau? He was quite the ladies man.”
Laughter exploded out from Darger’s lips before she could stop it.
“Loshak?”
“Oh yes,” Prescott said, pausing to let out one of her hyena cackles. “This was before he was married, of course. But I caught more than one female trainee doodling his name surrounded by little hearts in the margins of their notes.”
“No goddamn way!”
They giggled some more, clutching at each other like schoolgirls.
“Yes, indeed. The ladies love Loshak.”
Darger wiped tears from her eyes and thought that maybe she’d been too quick to judge Prescott. For once, she’d felt like Prescott was trying to connect with her as a person instead of as a pawn.
An electronic jangle emanated from Prescott’s purse. When she glanced at the screen, her mouth spread into a grin.
“It’s Coonan.”
She hit Accept, and then jabbed the speakerphone icon.
“So what did you find about our mystery girl?” Prescott asked.
“I need you to come down to my office. Both of you. Now.”
Prescott stood up a little straighter, her smile fading.
“Why? What is it?”
“We have a problem.”
Chapter 13
The whole ride back into Vegas, there was a lump lodged in Darger’s throat, a racquetball wedged just under her chin. Again, she couldn’t help but imagine the worst-case scenario: that Stump had somehow escaped from jail or manipulated them into helping his cause.
The not-knowing kept her tense. Why hadn’t Coonan just told them what the problem was instead of making them drive all the way into town with all the horrible possibilities hanging over their heads?
When they arrived at the District Attorney’s office, a secretary showed them back but paused at the door when another man came out. She stepped aside to give him space and Darger felt Prescott stand up a little straighter.
“Mr. McCall,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he said, flashing a politician’s smile. “I wish it were under different circumstances, but that’s not the way the world tends to work, is it?”
He shook both of their hands.
“Who was that?” Darger asked when he’d disappeared down the hallway.
Prescott rolled her eyes.
“David McCall. The District Attorney.”
“Oh,” Darger said, unimpressed. Leave it Prescott to start fawning when the local politicians came around. Still, the presence of the head man did give all of this an air of formality, of heightened significance.
Coonan waved them into his office, not bothering to wait for them to sit before he launched into his spiel.
“After discussing things with my boss, we’ve decided that our greatest responsibility is to the taxpayers. As it stands right now, the Leonard Stump investigation has already cost them millions, and it will cost millions more before we’re done. Death penalty trials are expensive, in case you didn’t know.”
“I’m sorry,” Prescott said. “What exactly are
you saying?”
Coonan rested his palms flat on the table.
“We’ve decided that tramping around the Mojave digging holes in the ground is not in our best interest. The forensics team can finish up at the current dig site, and then I’m calling the rest of the search off.”
Darger sat forward.
“The hell you are. He gave us seven names. We have two more locations.”
The lawyer glanced from Darger to Prescott, blinking rapidly.
“Look, when I agreed to all of this, I didn’t realize how quickly it would turn into a wild goose chase. I thought he’d give us the names, and that would be that. Because the thing about goose chases is they cost us valuable resources, which is probably exactly what Stump is counting on. He can tie us up in red tape for years, sending half the Sheriff’s office from one corner of the county to the next. It has to stop somewhere. We’ll file his tips to be addressed when a cold case team has time to do so, and in the meantime, we’ll prioritize moving forward with the case we have against Stump right now.”
Coonan’s gaze fell on Darger.
“You were the one warning us that this was all a game to him. I thought you’d sympathize with our change of heart.”
Darger scoffed.
“We just pulled two dead girls out of the desert. It’s a little late for a change of heart now.”
“We don’t have proof that those are his victims. Technically these are just more cold cases that will sit in an evidence locker somewhere.”
“That is bullshit,” Darger said, but Coonan was still rambling.
“Besides, that wallet you found could be from anywhere. Thrown in to confuse things. Or to send us on another round of snipe hunting. Or… I don’t know… to inflate his body count number.”
That old chestnut, Darger thought, and then something else struck her.
The wallet.
“Who is she?”
“Who?”
“Madelaine Godeau. You didn’t start fussing until you got back here and looked her up.”
The prosecutor’s jaw worked back and forth, molars grinding together.
“Something about finding her ID in that grave shook you up,” Darger said. “What is it?”
“Madelaine Godeau and Brigitte Collins were both found dead in a provincial park outside of Vancouver in 1990. It’s a cold case. Unsolved.”
Found in Canada? So the wallets really were thrown into an unrelated grave. That was odd, and it certainly muddied the waters a bit, but she couldn’t see it damaging the case against Stump. Darger searched for the angle that might be causing Coonan to suddenly have second thoughts.
They had two more victims to add to Stump’s list. That was good.
Except the bodies were found in Canada.
She sucked in a breath.
That was bad.
“If those two women were killed in Canada, the Canadian government can demand he be extradited to stand trial,” she guessed.
“Yes,” Coonan said with a sour look on his face. “Every government entity always wants its pound of flesh. And you know what happens then? They can start making demands. They can say, for example, they won’t return him unless we take the death penalty off the table.”
Prescott broke in then, waving a hand dismissively in the air.
“Charles Ng tried that in 1991. And he lost.”
Coonan’s mouth puckered.
“There was a more recent case in 2001. Canada refused to extradite two men accused of a triple murder unless the death penalty was off the table.”
“So you try him here first. Get your death penalty verdict before you extradite. They can’t refuse to extradite someone who’s already been tried and convicted.”
“It’s not that simple. We can’t just snap our fingers and start a murder trial after lunch. Second, once there’s an official extradition request, my hands are tied. It becomes a judicial issue. The bottom line here is that this is an unknown. My boss doesn’t like unknowns.”
Darger had been quiet for some time. But there was another angle she’d been thinking of. Something worse than Canada refusing to give Stump back once they had him.
“He’ll try to escape. If you transfer him to Canada for trial. That’s when he’ll try.”
“Exactly!” Coonan threw his arms wide. “Now you can see why we need to shut this down until we can figure out how to contain it.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Darger sighed.
“The problem is, you’re the one that wanted to open this can of worms,” she said, shaking her head. “Neither one of you would listen when I told you that there was an end game here that you wouldn’t see. That all of this was a big production to get something for Stump. That he wouldn’t offer up information for free. That he’d want something in return. So you gave him me, except it turns out that I was just the icing on the cake. And now that you see what he really wants, and how it might affect your game, you want out?”
Darger jabbed a finger against the table.
“Those girls we found are victims with names, and you promised closure for their families. You’re not shutting anything down until every girl Stump named is pulled from her unmarked grave and given a proper burial.”
Coonan’s lips curled into a sneer.
“You’re hardly in a position to be making demands.”
“Really? Because if you think I won’t go straight to the press with a story like this, you’re dead fucking wrong.”
The lawyer’s nostrils flared. He looked pissed enough to slap her right then. Tearing his gaze from Darger, he rounded on Prescott.
“You come to me with your promises, and then you string me along for months with excuse after excuse,” he said before pitching his voice in a mocking tone. “That you could get what we needed from him if you brought her in, but you needed time to build trust. That she’d play ball, that everyone would get their piece. Instead, I just stood in front of the fan while you lobbed a giant turd into it.”
Darger only understood half of what he said. Was he talking about Prescott needing to build trust with her? And what did he mean about Prescott stringing him along for months?
Coonan stood so abruptly his chair flew back and hit the wall. Darger flinched at the sound.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go explain to my boss how absolutely fucked we are.”
Prescott watched him stalk from the room, an amused little smirk playing on her lips.
“This is why I’ve never been interested in politics. It completely skews your priorities.” She toyed with one of her earrings for a moment before swiveling to face Darger. “Obviously the more victims uncovered, the better. You know they found 47 items in that box you dug up? If every one of those represents a new victim, Leonard Stump will be the most prolific serial killer in this country’s history, at least in terms of convictions.”
“How long has this been going on?” Darger asked.
“Pardon?”
“How long have you been working with the DA’s office on this? How long have you been talking to Stump? You told me before that it was a new development.”
Prescott only blinked at her. Cool. Unconcerned.
Darger continued.
“When you called back in August to offer me a job… it was about this, wasn’t it? You wanted me as bait for Stump.”
“Bait!” Prescott actually threw back her head and laughed. “Jesus, Violet. Don’t be so melodramatic. I mean, I knew you’d refuse if I called you up out of the blue and asked you to speak to Stump.”
“So you admit it. You used me.”
Prescott’s cold blue eyes rolled toward the ceiling.
“Of course I used you, but it was for your own good. Do you still not grasp what an opportunity this has been?”
Disgusted, Darger moved to get out of her chair. Prescott wrapped her fingers around Darger’s wrist, stopping her.
“Violet, just look at what we’ve accomplished already! I’ve been trying to talk
to him for months, and he’s given me nothing. You’re here for four days, and already we’ve pried seven names out of him. Nine if you count the two Canadian girls. You saw that trunk full of trophies. How many other names will he give up?”
Darger shook her head, but Prescott kept going.
“And don’t listen to Doug. He just hates surprises. All control freaks do. Stump will get the death penalty here first, and then Canada can’t say boo. If they still want to extradite him, fine, but they can’t undo what’s already been done.”
And suddenly it occurred to Darger that Loshak might have been trying to teach her a lesson all this time.
Had he sent her to Prescott on purpose? To show her that no matter where she went, what she did, that there would always be someone working an angle? Someone out for their own gain? Someone polluting the world with their selfishness?
Prescott was still talking, teeth glinting now with the hint of a smile.
“Now that you’re here, Stump is an open book. I mean, literally. I bet we’ll get a book out of this.”
Darger wrenched her arm free from Prescott’s grip and stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m done. Count me out.”
Prescott clicked her tongue.
“Oh, Violet. The surly teenager storming from the room and slamming her bedroom door routine is getting old. When are you going to realize that this benefits you, too?”
Darger snorted at that, realizing that Prescott saw the whole world that way. Through the guise of power and control. Prescott couldn’t fathom that Darger might want something other than status, influence, or credit. Because to Prescott, those First Class perks were everything.
When Darger started for the door, Prescott scrambled out of her seat and came after her.
“Look, I’ve been more than accommodating,” Prescott said, her face hard now. “I’ve put up with all your little hissyfits. But at some point, you need to grow up. I’m your boss, and I’m telling you, we aren’t finished here. I have another interview scheduled with Stump tomorrow. I need you there.”
Darger paused just in front of the door.
“You may not be finished, but I am.”