While this information soaked in, Jennifer unconsciously rattled the pen in her hand against the edge of her workstation desk. When the implication clicked in her mind, the pen froze in mid-rattle. She said, “Sam, are you telling me that Wilson’s body was found a good distance from where the tracker says he should have been?”
“Exactly, almost 600 feet back down the trail from the second-to-last ping recorded by the tracker,” he said.
“Is it possible the ping interval on the tracker just didn’t pick up Wilson backtracking on his own? Maybe he saw something that frightened him and he ran backwards?”
“Not likely. He had the ping interval set at one minute. Given the terrain, and his age, there’s no way he could have descended the trail 600 feet in one minute on his own. Besides, the last recorded ping doesn’t show he descended,” Keller revealed.
And then Jennifer understood what he meant. The last recorded ping was where the device came to rest, some 300 feet above the trail. She knew at that moment what had happened. Someone with a Sound Stone, probably Pacal, had confronted Devlin Wilson on the trail as he neared the marked spot. The assailant lifted him off the ground, high into the air, the same way Pacal had lifted Pebbles and the Land Rover. Then the killer cast him arcing through the sky backwards down the trail. The tracker must have been yanked free and fallen as Wilson flew through the air. It was the only explanation for the combination of evidence and would also account for the coroner’s observation that the damage done to Wilson’s body exceeded the supposed distance of his fall. He just didn’t fall, Jennifer realized, he was thrown down violently.
Keller interrupted her train of thought. “So you see the dilemma? How does a man fall 600 feet backwards and down another 500 feet on his own while his tracker shows a sudden rise of another 300 feet at a point in between? We can’t explain what happened, but there’s no way this was an accidental fall, unless the tracker is wildly inaccurate.”
Nodding in agreement, Jennifer said, “I think I may be able to help you out with an explanation of what happened, but it will be hard to believe. I may even have a suspect to suggest.”
Keller’s voice perked up. He said, “I was hoping you might.”
“Let me get through some stuff here in the office, Sam, and I’ll call you back later. I want to run through some of this with my Captain before talking about the scenario I think happened,” she replied, trying her best to honor Gambelli’s “keep an open mind” caution before reaching a conclusion.
“Sounds good Detective. One more item to mention about the tracker. I think it may link together our two deaths after all,” he said.
For the third time in the same day, Jennifer extended a double fist pump, only this time she did so physically and mentally in the sanctity of her cubicle. She said, “Oh?”
“Yeah, the GPS device had previous trips recorded. The one that preceded Wilson’s final use was recorded two days before his death. I followed the trail backwards yesterday using my car.”
“Your car?” questioned a puzzled Jennifer.
“Yep, the tracked path begins at Devlin Wilson’s home, heads to Matthew Dobson’s home and then onto the Whiteface Mountains. The tracked path of that trip ends at the marker Wilson followed two days later and then the path loops back to Dobson’s house and then Wilson’s. There are a range of possible explanations, but given both Mr. Wilson’s and Mr. Dobson’s suspicious deaths, and the fact that the tracker shows a stop at Mr. Dobson’s home on the way out and back, it sure does seem to me like there is reason to believe there is a connection between the two deaths,” Keller added.
After finishing the call with Keller, an excited Jennifer craved to jump out of her cubicle, dash to Gambelli’s office, push her way through the door and shout, “Aha, I told you so!”
But as satisfying as that might feel for the fleeting seconds after her pronouncement, she knew Keller’s discoveries were not enough to sway Gambelli. As Keller had said himself, there were a range of possible explanations. For sure, Jennifer planned on huddling with Gambelli to share the news before the day was out, but for now she directed her attention back to the pile of envelopes staring at her from the desk.
Arranging the envelopes into a row of five, one might have supposed Jennifer was about to play Solitaire. Stroking her chin, she sat back and wondered what each envelope might reveal. Before opening the first, she chastised herself, “keep an open mind.”
Reaching for the lab analysis of the items removed from Matthew Dobson’s home, Jennifer flipped through the pages slowly. The notebooks that appeared to belong to Devlin contained three sets of fingerprints among the pages. Devlin Wilson, Matthew Dobson and Pacal Flores. The last bit of information confirmed for Jennifer that the lab analysis of the handkerchief did contain Pacal’s fingerprints. Thank you Pebbles!
Jennifer scrawled a quick note on her pad to read through the notebooks. She’d been careful to avoid contaminating the books before the lab analysis. Now that it was complete, she intended to read every page of the three journals.
The cell phone records and bank statements contained only Dobson’s fingerprints, as did the picture frame she and Pebbles removed from Dobson’s bedroom.
The last two pages of the report covered the gold coins. The analysis was intriguing. In total, there were 418 coins, not including the one Jennifer borrowed to show Anlon and Pebbles. Each of the coins weighed 2.5 ounces and their composition was pure, 24-karat gold. The analyst noted that at current gold prices, the coins’ approximate value totaled almost $1.4 million.
Fingerprints were detected on many of the coins. Matthew Dobson’s was among them. Devlin Wilson’s and Pacal Flores’ were not. The report indicated there were two sets of recent additional prints of persons unknown on a handful of the coins. Next to this observation, the forensic analyst had inserted a footnote asterisk. Shifting her focus to the bottom of the page, Jennifer read the footnote.
“On three coins there were partial older fingerprints. Their age is indeterminable but there was a dusty material mixed with the fingerprints and embedded in the etched grooves on the three coins. A microbial analysis of the dusty material shows its composition to be a mix of sea salt and soil. The soil contained low amounts of organic material, suggesting it was soil from an arid or mountainous location. The soil was definitively not sand as one might expect, given the presence of sea salt.”
A slight shiver raced down Jennifer’s spine. The forensic analyst didn’t realize it, but he probably dusted fingerprints from a 10,000-year-old man or woman. Sea salt and arid soil. That is an odd combination, she thought. Closing her eyes, she imagined the scene Pebbles described on the Master Stone. Men leaving on ships…
Placing the report aside, Jennifer next picked up the same analyst’s report on Pacal Flores’ handkerchief. To her delight, Pacal’s fingerprints and DNA were detectable on the fabric. To her dismay, neither were present in forensic evidence collected at the scene of Matthew Dobson’s death. A second set of fingerprints and DNA were also on the cloth. A search of a national fingerprint registry positively identified the second set of prints as belonging to one Eleanor Marie McCarver. The additional DNA was listed of indeterminable origin, but Jennifer assumed it was from Pebbles.
Scrunching her nose, Jennifer pondered the reports. So far, nothing in them pointed to Matthew Dobson’s killer. The only tangible discovery among the forensic evidence was that Devlin Wilson and Pacal Flores had not handled the coins. To Jennifer, this suggested that Matthew Dobson had procured the coins without their knowledge. She reasoned that if the coins had been in Devlin’s possession at some point along the way, his and possibly Pacal’s fingerprints would have been left on at least one coin.
Returning to the remaining three envelopes, Jennifer extracted the police report and autopsy report forwarded by Sam Keller. She scanned the autopsy report first. Indeed, Devlin Wilson’s injuries had been substantial and the coroner’s footnote illustrated her hesitation to totally buy into the acci
dental fall supposition.
The footnote read, “It should be noted that decedent’s blunt force trauma exceeds that commonly associated with falls from relatively low altitude. The decedent’s injuries are more consistent with tissue and bone damage found in trauma victims where terminal velocity is achieved prior to impact. Decedent’s alleged fall as measured by the officer on scene was approximately 200 feet, far short of the distance required for humans to achieve terminal velocity (~1,900 ft.). However, since there was no topographical feature of that height within reasonable distance of the decedent’s impact zone, there is insufficient evidence to suggest a competing cause of death other than accidental fall.”
Jennifer understood better now why the tracking data caused the coroner to reevaluate the autopsy report’s conclusion. While the distance discrepancies detailed by Keller on the phone were still well below that required to achieve terminal velocity, Jennifer rightly guessed that the coroner no longer suspected Devlin Wilson fell. Instead, he was thrown down with great force.
Indeed, while Jennifer sat in her cubicle fomenting this opinion, the coroner sat in her own cubicle calculating various iterations of the speed and time required to achieve terminal velocity by shooting a 180-pound object upward by at least 300 feet, across an arc extending 600 feet, and then down a total of 500 feet.
Normally, terminal velocity of a human body in a free fall is achieved in less than 15 seconds. The coroner’s calculations demonstrated that it was possible to achieve a human’s terminal velocity over the area of Devlin Wilson’s arcing fall in less than 15 seconds. However, the calculations suggested that the force required to generate a speed in excess of 130 miles per hour in a 500 foot fall from peak to trough was not possible through any known natural means. To her, it was as if Devlin Wilson had been catapulted to the ground in a motion like the swing of a hammer…only at twice the force achieved by the strongest of men.
Placing aside the coroner’s report, Jennifer picked up the police report and read through Officer Keller’s summary.
Keller wrote that he arrived on scene at approximately 9:24 a.m. in response to a 911 call placed by a Mr. Kyle Corchran, who apparently discovered the body moments before two other hikers, a Mr. and Mrs. Charles Ludwig, passed by. The body had been found along the Blueberry Ledge Trail on Mt. Whitehead and bore obvious signs of blunt force trauma. Keller recorded the notes of his interviews with the three witnesses, drew a diagram of the crime scene, and detailed the search of the surrounding area for any clues. Keller also catalogued his search of Devlin’s Land Rover in the parking lot and updated the report after the forensic team finished their analysis to detail the contents of Devlin’s backpack and pockets. Jennifer frowned. She had hoped there would be something of additional value in the report.
Eyeing the two remaining packages on her desk, Jennifer set aside the bank statements. She learned enough already from Mr. Cho about Dobson’s accounts to know there was monkey business in the details. She would get to that later. Right now, she was interested in scanning Dobson’s phone records.
Nickerson, the meticulous trainee, had not only scoured Dobson’s cell phone records, but his home’s landline records as well. He attached a cover sheet with a summary of significant calls made and received and indicated that every call on the attached pages was sourced and annotated. Nickerson’s analysis revealed that Dobson made or received a total of 86 calls over a six-month period. Three numbers made up more than half of the calls. One of the numbers was Devlin Wilson’s cell phone. Another of the numbers was Wilson’s office landline. The third was a blocked number. Three of the last four calls on Dobson’s cell phone involved the blocked number. Two calls out and two calls in.
Jennifer rapidly flipped to the pages showing the most recent call activity. Consulting her phone’s calendar app, Jennifer noted that Dobson made a 20-minute call to the blocked number at 7:00 p.m. two nights before Wilson died. The following morning, around 11:30 a.m., the blocked number called back. That conversation was short. Approximately five minutes. Two days after Devlin’s death, Dobson received another call from the blocked number. That conversation was even shorter. One minute. Finally, the last call placed by Matthew Dobson occurred another two days later and was placed to Dr. Anlon Cully.
The blocked number stood out to Nickerson, who highlighted the calls in his compiled notes, as they did to Jennifer. Particularly given the timeline of the conversations, and her knowledge of the bank transactions. She was willing to wager the blocked number belonged to Zoe Moore, John Wood or Pacal Flores.
Glancing at the time, Jennifer realized it was nearly 4:00 p.m. and she’d yet to have lunch. Dipping into her tote, she hauled out her emergency snack stash — a chocolate peanut butter energy bar and a mini-bag of pretzels. Munching on her impromptu lunch, she reflected on all she learned over the day’s course.
Focus on Dobson, first and foremost, she reminded herself as she flipped back to the notes she’d taken during the scenario discussion with Captain Gambelli.
Of the four they discussed, one held the most promise in her mind, given the day’s learnings. Devlin Wilson challenged Dobson about the thefts. Dobson panicked and decided to shut down the operation. From the combination of cash, bank balances, diamonds and gold coins in Dobson’s possession when he was killed, it would have been an easy decision to call it quits.
Dobson had accomplices…Zoe Moore and John Wood. From the bank account transfers, it appeared to Jennifer as if they received about 10 percent each of Dobson’s deposits. She supposed they were not thrilled with Dobson’s decision to shut down their scheme. They confronted Dobson. He resisted. In the heat of the moment, one or both of them lashed out and knocked him unconscious. Afraid Dobson might turn them in, they decided there was only one way to deal with him. Silence him.
That fit well, Jennifer thought. Now, what about Devlin Wilson? How did the dots connect? Was it possible Dobson killed Devlin to keep him quiet? Dobson knew how to use the Sound Stone, according to Pacal. In fact, Jennifer recalled, Pacal also said he, Devlin and Dobson each had their own Sound Stone.
“The Sound Stone!” she exclaimed. “What happened to Dobson’s Sound Stone?”
It wasn’t until that moment that she realized that the search of Dobson’s home and Devlin’s office had not uncovered any other Life Stones, including Dobson’s Sound Stone.
“Ugh! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that earlier. It’s a critical piece of evidence,” Jennifer scolded herself. She made a note to go back through Dobson’s house and search again for the Sound Stone.
If Devlin threatened to turn Dobson into the police, it might have spurred Dobson to act. With Devlin out of the way, Dobson wouldn’t be discovered. Better yet, he could continue his plundering of Devlin’s artifacts, including the Life Stones.
Ah, she thought! But there was a problem there. Anlon Cully. Dobson didn’t know the contents of Devlin’s will prior to his death and didn’t anticipate his collection would pass to Anlon. He probably bet the artifacts would be donated to a museum or a university or be put up for auction. He thought he would have ample time while the estate was settled to remove pieces of value before any donation.
Crinkling up the consumed energy bar’s wrapper, Jennifer tossed it in the wastebasket beneath her desk and sighed, “One big problem with that theory. Pacal Flores.”
This reminded Jennifer that he was still missing. Though the word that Pacal was a “person of interest, wanted for questioning” had been circulated within the state’s police network, so far no one had seen or heard from him since he walked into the black from Devlin’s house.
Nickerson had been tasked with staking out his apartment and trying to reach him on his cell and home phones. But, as his note attached to the cell phone records shared, there had been no reply and no signs of Pacal at the apartment. In his note, Nickerson suggested a search warrant of the home, given that it had now been several days since Pacal was last seen. Jennifer chuckled. Been there, done
that and summarily shot down!
But Nickerson was right. She had different grounds now for the search. He was wanted for questioning. He failed to appear to provide physical evidence. He was not responsive to repeated calls and visits to his home. As far as she knew from Anlon and Pebbles, he’d not shown up again for work at Devlin’s office. Heck, it was possible that Pacal might be dead himself. Or he might have fled with no intention of returning.
The more Jennifer considered this scenario, Pacal wasn’t the only piece that didn’t fit. There was also the matter of the break-in of Devlin’s office. And then it hit her.
Were Zoe and John still at it? Did they decide they’d had enough of table drippings? Oh my God! Did they have Dobson’s Sound Stone? But if that were true, why didn’t they wait to kill Dobson until after he handed over the gold coins? Why didn’t they wait for him to steal the Stones? There must be a reason, Jennifer just couldn’t see it.
Two pints in hand, John Wood made his way cautiously between people and tables in the tightly packed Rusty Musket Pub. The small basement bar of the Two Lanterns Inn was more cramped than usual this night as locals flooded in to catch the Red Sox take on the hated Yankees. That suited Zoe just fine; fewer eyes and ears to pry on their conversation. Originally dubious about meeting John in a public place, Zoe relented when he assured her the good people of Stockbridge cared more about their Red Sox than strangers sharing a pint.
To ingratiate themselves with the crowd and to further blend in, John had driven into Great Barrington earlier in the day and purchased two Red Sox caps, one for Zoe and one for himself. He also purchased an official game jersey for Zoe that was at least two sizes too big. He knew her sleek figure would catch attention otherwise, and right now the less attention the better. Zoe resisted wearing the jersey, but John’s logic won her over. “Look, I’ve been in this pub on Red Sox game nights before, and the only two things that divert eyes from the game are empty pints and girls in tight clothes. I got you some awful-fitting sweatpants too.”
Shadows of the Stone Benders (The Anlon Cully Chronicles Book 1) Page 27