by Michael Kerr
That was it. Ray was being held for further questioning. He hadn’t been charged with anything, yet, but it looked to be cut and dried from a department point of view. They had at that point no other avenue to investigate.
Clifton went to visit with Ray. Logan walked down the street to the Steamboat Diner, sat at the counter and ordered a cheeseburger and coffee black. As he finished up the sandwich, he got company. One deputy either side of him.
“You mind if we join you, Logan?” Carl Purvis said.
Logan said nothing.
“I’m talking to you,” Carl said. “Are you deaf or something?”
“Or something,” Logan said.
“Wise guy, huh?” Deputy Sheriff Earl Dempsey chipped in.
“Just grabbing a bite to eat,” Logan said, picking up his coffee cup and moving to an empty window booth.
Carl and Earl followed him across the diner and slid onto the bench facing him.
“You a drifter or vagrant?” Carl said.
Logan sighed. “Just a citizen.”
“Not a local or a guy moved into the Creek looking to find honest work and pay taxes. Am I right?”
“I’m on an extended vacation, moving around and taking in the sights of Colorado.”
“There aren’t many sights to see in Carson Creek, buddy,” Earl said. “Probably time for you to hitch a ride out of town. Maybe go see what New Mexico has to offer.”
“Thanks, I may just visit the ‘Land of Enchantment’ in a week or two. Who knows?”
“I was thinking you should head out of town in the next twenty-four hours.” Earl came back, emphasizing the suggestion by taking hold of Logan’s wrist in a firm grip.
“And I suggest you let go of my wrist, unless you really want to see that hand in a cast for the next few weeks.”
“That sounds like a threat to me, Logan.”
“Think of it more as a promise, son. And don’t let the fact that you’re wearing a uniform go to your head. There are at least a dozen townsfolk, two waitresses and the owner hanging on to every word. You are harassing and intimidating a patron for no good reason. I’m initially asking you politely to back off.”
Carl gave Earl a quick look. Earl withdrew his hand and got up, knocking Logan’s coffee mug over, seemingly by accident. “Twenty-four hours, Logan,” he said.
“Did you see that old movie First Blood?” Logan asked them.
“Yeah, so what?” Carl said.
“It was a lesson for hick cops in a small town. The message was to be extremely careful with an unknown quantity.”
“That sounds like a definite threat.”
“Just friendly advice,” Logan said. “Same as you’ve given me.”
Carl wanted to arrest Logan and throw him in a cell. Earl shook his head almost imperceptibly. Wrong time, wrong place. They’d wanted to scare the guy off, but it hadn’t gone to plan. They got up and headed for the door.
“Freshen your coffee?” Amy Granger asked Logan. Amy was the owner of the Steamboat; a fifty-something bottle blonde with a nice easy smile on her round face.
Logan nodded.
“You need to be careful around those two,” Amy said. “Carl is a mean piece of work, and Earl is worse. They’re just overgrown schoolyard bullies in uniform.”
“Thanks,” Logan said. “I’ll be sure to keep on their good side.”
“They don’t have a good side, Mr. Logan.”
“Just Logan. What about the sheriff?”
“Lyle is a fine man. He keeps the law and cares a lot about the Creek and the folk in it. I’ve known him for longer than I care to remember, and always found him to be a man of his word.”
“That’s good to know. Have you heard about the Foster girl?”
Amy nodded. “The grapevine in a one-horse town like this is quicker than broadband. Poor girl. Her parents, Wayne and Shirley, will be absolutely devastated. I can’t rightly imagine what they’ll be going through.”
“You think that Ray Marshall did it?”
“He’s a good boy, Logan. Loves nature and has always seemed a gentle person. But I don’t know what happened out there. I hope that there’s another explanation.”
Clifton entered the diner and sat down opposite Logan. Amy put her hand reassuringly on his shoulder and squeezed gently before heading back to the counter.
“It looks bad for Ray,” Clifton said. “Lyle…the sheriff, hasn’t said as much, but I get the feeling he considers it to be cut and dried.”
“What’s his take?” Logan said.
“That Ray was high, got nasty when Tanya wouldn’t come across, and ended up strangling her, then panicked, dumped the body nearby and left the scene.”
“Could’ve gone down that way,” Logan said. “Teenage couples fall out, and it can get physical. Maybe Ray lost the plot, and the next thing he knew it was as bad as it can get.”
“He didn’t do it, Logan. He said that he slapped her and immediately regretted it, but that she then called him a bastard, got out of the car and walked off. If he had seriously hurt her by accident he would have called for help. I know my boy. He wouldn’t have just gone to sleep in the car and then driven home if he’d murdered Tanya.”
“Okay. Let’s consider another scenario,” Logan said as he raised his hand and intimated to Amy that he could use more coffee.
Amy brought a pot and a second mug, set them down and left, while Logan thought through what other circumstances could have resulted in Tanya’s death.
“It was late evening,” Logan said to Clifton. “If Ray is telling the truth, then we have a teenage girl walking along a dark highway at night. It’s a country road that doesn’t get a lot of traffic. Someone sees her in his headlights, stops, and she either runs off or gets in. The guy attempts to, or actually rapes her. We don’t know whether she had sex or not yet. Tanya fights back, and maybe starts screaming, literally for her life. The perpetrator panics and strangles her. Maybe just trying to shut her up, but she dies. He then takes the body back to where Ray is parked, stashes it nearby and resumes his journey.”
Clifton was frowning and nodding. He liked the straw that Logan was holding out for him to hold on to.
Logan filled both mugs. Took a mouthful of the strong brew. “And just where else does that back road lead to, except into town?” he said.
“Are you thinking that it was someone local that did it?” Clifton said.
“I’m just looking at a viable alternative to Ray having done it, is all. It’s pure conjecture, Clifton. The law goes with facts, evidence, and high probability, not supposition. Ray is what they have, and ‘smoking gun in hand’ circumstances that make him guilty unless proved innocent.”
“So what can we do?”
“Find the killer,” Logan said. “If we don’t, then Ray could wind up spending the rest of his life in prison.”
The County ME did the autopsy on Tanya Foster the next day. The main findings were that Tanya had died as a direct result of her hyoid bone being fractured, leading to asphyxiation. There was also a contusion on her left cheek. She had not had sex, and was still a virgin.
Lyle talked it through with the medical examiner, Dr. Jared Wynn.
“What can you tell me doc?” Lyle said.
“That the victim was manually strangled. The perpetrator put both of his hands round her neck and dug his thumbs into her throat. And she had been assaulted previously, by way of being struck on the left cheek by a hand.”
“Anything that would tie the marks on her neck and throat to an individual?”
“ ‘Fraid not, Sheriff. It would appear that whoever did this was wearing gloves.
Lyle sat in his office and thought it through after the ME had left. He had a strong case against Ray Marshall, and hoped that a pair of leather gloves retrieved from the PT Cruiser’s glove box would prove to have trace evidence that would give him the final confirmation he needed to charge the boy. There was almost always a transfer of hair, fiber or other material when a
crime was this up close and personal. But it was to be expected that it would be apparent in this case, due to the suspected perp and the victim being in a relationship. A confession would have been the cherry on top of the cake, but you had to work with what you’d got, and Ray Marshall kept telling him exactly the same story, which he needed to break. Maybe the kid had not meant to kill Tanya, which ruled out premeditation, but Lyle was convinced that he was guilty.
CHAPTER FIVE
Logan set off on foot from the motel at just before sunup, crossed the highway and walked south and then east through woods to reach the spot on the back road that he had parked at two days ago.
The sheriff thought it was a wrap; that even without a confession he had enough circumstantial evidence to charge Ray. But he was waiting for the official report from the ME to land on his desk, and the analysis paperwork on the white powder that they already knew was high-grade cocaine.
Logan was standing up to the plate for Clifton and his boy. That entailed a different mindset to the simplistic conclusion the sheriff had come to. What bothered him in the main was that Ray hadn’t panicked. He had gone home and slept off the effects of the night before, and had appeared totally bewildered and upset when he found out that Tanya was missing. Logan did not think he was putting on an act. And as an ex-homicide detective he’d attended all types of murders, including those of vics that had been strangled. Tanya would have fought for her life. If the deed had been carried out by Ray in his car after an argument, then he should have been marked. She would have lashed out, scratched his hands, face, or both. And they should have found traces under her fingernails. As far as he knew from Kate Donner, they had nothing.
Only a couple of vehicles drove by heading in the direction of town as he walked along the side of the road. He crossed over and cut through trees onto what was presumably still land that made up part of the Carver property. That was a place to start, just on the off chance that some hobo had been living rough in the gutted house. He didn’t think that scenario was even a long shot, but would be thorough and put himself in the position of being lead cop investigating the case.
There was no evidence of any recent occupation inside the roofless shell. Outside the front of it was a clearing of still scorched earth and a few stunted bushes.
Heading back towards the highway, Logan did not spend any time at the spot where Ray had parked up on the track. As far as he was concerned it had not been the crime scene. He reached the blacktop, turned right and walked slowly, eyes down and searching for anything that did not belong. After maybe ninety or a hundred yards a very small item glinted in the grass. The light covering of snow that had lain for thirty-six hours had melted to display a few beer and soda cans, and the usual trash that was thrown from moving vehicles. But this was an unexpected find. He was wearing woolen gloves, so picked the object up and slipped it into the side pocket of his parka.
As he crossed the road, intending to return to the motel through the woods, the single whoop of a police siren broke the silence. He stopped and waited for the cruiser to roll up next to him and park.
“Are you lost, Logan, or just some kind of ghoul attracted to murder scenes?” Deputy Sheriff Carl Purvis said as he climbed out of the car.
“Just sampling this fresh mountain air,” Logan said, moving round to stand about ten feet directly in front of the black and white.
“Yeah, and I’m the Tooth Fairy,” Carl came back. “Just what the fuck are you doing out here?”
“Minding my own business, deputy.”
And exactly what business would that be?”
“Not yours.”
“I don’t like your attitude,” Carl said. “I’m the law, and am asking you a reasonable question.”
“I just gave you a reasonable answer. I’m going to head off back through the woods now to the motel, unless you think we have anything further to discuss.”
Carl’s right hand slipped to the butt of the holstered Glock at his hip. It was an unconscious move, but demonstrated to Logan that the cop was nervous and unsure as to what to do next.
“As I recall, Earl and me advised you to leave town,” Carl said. “Seems you don’t listen up to good advice.”
“I listened, and decided that it was bad advice from two dumb as dirt, third rate cops.”
Carl took a step towards Logan, balling his fists. Bright red spots formed on his cheeks as he considered the situation.
Logan said nothing. Just stood and waited. Hoped that the deputy didn’t make a move on him, because breaking the guy’s nose would ensure that he would be bust and sleeping that night in a cell.
Carl looked both ways. There was no other vehicle in sight, so he went for broke and took a swing at Logan, who caught the fist in his hand and just stood rock still, his arm muscles bunching as he held it in a viselike grip. “You need to think real quick, son,” he said to Carl. “Do you really want to find out where this will lead, because I don’t give a fuck about your badge or your gun? You’re just a thug in uniform offering me unnecessary aggression, and if you push me hard enough I’ll break you in two.”
Carl had left the video in the cruiser running. Knew that he’d inadvertently just taped himself attempting to assault a guy that had been standing with his arms hung loosely at his sides. He couldn’t wipe it without having to do a lot of lying. The system was time-coded and checked regularly. He was so used to it being there that he’d forgotten that he had turned it on as per the book, before exiting the vehicle.
He attempted to pull his hand free, but it was fixed as securely as a clamp on a car wheel.
Logan got tired of waiting, so put downward pressure on the fist, and forced Carl to his knees. He then quickly relieved the deputy of his handcuffs and sidearm. He was mildly surprised to find that his reactions were still so sharp. Not bad for a guy of fifty.
He frisked Carl, found his cell and phoned Clifton. Got Kate Donner’s number from him and punched it up.
“Kate Donner.”
‘It’s Logan,” he said. “I’m out near the Foster crime scene. Deputy Purvis just attempted to assault me. I’ve restrained him and am about to call the sheriff, but expect I could use a little moral and legal support out here.”
Ten seconds of silence followed as Kate let the details sink in. “I’m on my way, Logan. Don’t exacerbate the situation.”
“I don’t plan to,” Logan said and disconnected.
He then used the deputy’s radio to call the incident in to the dispatcher at the sheriff’s department. Said he had an emergency, gave his location and suggested that Sheriff Bumgarner should attend a.s.a.p.
With Carl cuffed to the window frame of the cruiser, and the Glock separated from its mag and dumped on the rear seat, Logan turned his attention to the surly deputy, who was cursing and making threats.
“You’re in the wrong line of work,” Logan said to him. “You should resign and wash dishes at the Steamboat Diner, or find some other menial job that will suit your limited capabilities.”
“You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your fucking life, Logan.” Carl said.
Logan ignored him. Went over to a large pine tree and just rested his back up against the trunk and waited.
The sheriff’s Dodge Charger arrived first, and as it reached the scene, Logan saw a dark blue Kia round a bend and accelerate towards them. He hoped that it was the lawyer.
As the sheriff and a deputy climbed out of the car, Logan ambled towards them with his hands in plain sight.
“Morning, Sheriff,” Logan said. “They say a picture’s worth a thousand words, so I suggest you take a look at the home movie in the cruiser, on which your inept deputy just recorded what went down here.”
Lyle looked Logan in the eye and took in his overall demeanor. The big man seemed to be under no stress, and his manner was affable. “Check that Mr. Logan is unarmed,” he said to Deputy Denny Matthews as he turned his attention to Carl.
He could see embarrassment, guilt and a
nger in his deputy’s expression. Without saying a word, he climbed in the cruiser and rewound the video to see what the camera had recorded through the windshield. He backed it up when the image of Carl and Logan appeared, and then a little further to when the events had obviously commenced. It didn’t take him long to see that it had been Carl that had attempted to assault Logan, without any visible cause to.
Kate stepped out of her Kia and approached the cruiser. “Hi, Sheriff,” she said as Lyle got out of the cruiser and just shook his head at Carl.
“What the hell are you doing here, Kate?” Lyle said.
“Logan gave me a call. Thought he may need my services.”
Denny had stepped back a couple yards from Logan and had no idea what to do next, so just waited for instructions. Shook his head when Lyle glanced across to him, implying that Logan was unarmed.
“Talk to me,” Lyle said to Logan.
“I was walking along the verge,” Logan said. “Deputy Dawg here stopped and braced me. He and another halfwit of yours have already told me to leave town. Today it went a stage further. He took a swing at me, as you’ll have seen on the tape. I restrained, disarmed and cuffed him, using minimum force to protect myself. His weapon is on the rear seat. I suggest you arrange for him to have a psychological assessment, because I really don’t think he should be in possession of a firearm.”
Carl pulled hard against the steel cuff, taking skin off his wrist as he attempted to free himself. He shouted, “You’re asking for a―”
“Shut the fuck up, Carl,” Lyle said.
“But―”
“No buts. Just cool it.”
Carl gritted his teeth. He was like an attack dog on a short leash.
“Is Mr. Logan being charged with anything?” Kate said to Lyle. “Or does whatever you’ve seen on that tape prove that he has not committed any offense?”
Lyle thought about it. “I suggest that this was just a misunderstanding, and that Logan here sees it that way. I think that we can let it go at that.”
Kate took her cell out of her purse and clicked off a few pictures. “May I see the tape, Sheriff,” she said.