“Hi, Nick.” Phyllis answered the cell phone icily.
“Phyllis, I’m about to head to Grand Junction on an investigation. I’m not sure if we’ll be home tonight or not. Nicky’s got a soccer game tomorrow, and I’m afraid I might miss it.” Nick didn’t know why he was explaining to her. She never made it to a game.
“Okay, Nick,” she replied, sounding bored.
“Will you let him know I called?” he asked, making a mental note to call Nicky after school let out and have the conversation with him directly.
“Anything else?” she asked insincerely.
“I’ll talk to you later,” he replied, and rang off.
Burleson agreed to drive. He had bought a new two-seater, and he wanted to try it out on the mountain curves. It was early spring, but as was common for Colorado, the weather was beautiful following the snowstorms from a few days earlier. It appeared it would stay that way for several days, too, so there should be no risk taking a sports car through the Eisenhower Tunnel, over Vail Pass, through Glenwood Canyon, and into Grand Junction. The four-hour drive would be magnificent. Nick figured Burleson might even get tired and let him drive. He would be wrong about that.
They rolled out of the station house before ten. Nick always kept an overnight bag with him, “just in case.” Burleson had a workout bag, and he would buy the few things he needed at Target or Wal-Mart if they did stay.
They decided they would use the time during the trip to go through the status of the investigation, paring through the evidence and interviews to see how they should approach their time in Grand Junction and where they should go next.
“I’ve made a list of the key points of this case,” Nick said.
Burleson smirked, “Fine, grandpa. But before we start, let me put my sweater on.”
Nick laughed. It wasn’t the first time he had been teased for his insistence on organization. “All right, smart ass. First, what was Steven Blair doing right before he died?”
“That one’s easy. He had gone to Portland for a Coalition of Values convention.” Burleson regurgitated what he had learned from Blair’s family and the investigators who looked into his disappearance.
“Right,” Nick said. “And the last time he was seen was late afternoon on the first day of the conference. Some people he met at the convention had invited him to dinner, but he declined, saying he was going to have dinner in his room and go to bed early.”
“Yep, that’s right,” Burleson agreed. “But he didn’t order room service. There was no activity on his debit or credit cards. We’re working to find video that might give us a hint of his movement, but so far, no luck. He didn’t call or text anyone. We have attempted to ping his phone, but no luck there. I’m guessing he went out, but how would I know?”
“Prostitute?” Nick asked.
“I talked to a dozen or so people about Blair. Those closest to him were convinced he was a changed man,” Burleson said as he thought. “He joined this Coalition of Values group a couple of years ago and kept his nose clean. But if you ask me, yeah, he got out of town, got a hard on, and reverted back to his old behavior. He went looking for a hooker.”
“And what about the Portland Police?” Nick asked, already knowing the answer.
“They never looked very hard and ultimately got bored with the case. As far as they were concerned, they didn’t have a body and his car was at the hotel, so nothing must have happened in Portland,” Burleson summarized.
“Right, and once we let them know the guy must have died while he was there …,” Nick trailed off.
Burleson completed the thought. “They weren’t very interested. I think the guy’s exact quote was, ‘sounds like you have a dead body in Denver, don’t know how that’s my problem in Portland,’ or something like that.”
“We figure he was out trolling for a hooker, somehow went missing, and ended up getting killed on video. And we have no idea where that was filmed.”
“What are we supposed to do about that?” Burleson asked.
“Not a lot. We could go to Portland and scope it all out. But nobody’s going to remember this guy if anything did happen to him there. Time of death is all over the place. From what Tasser said, he could have been alive up to two additional days. For all we know, he headed out to Vegas or Tahoe or Mexico or Canada with a new friend. Or he somehow went home.”
“That one keeps coming up in my mind, too, but with the video, I don’t think it was something that happened at the house. And it doesn’t make sense for him to go from Portland back home to Seattle but leave his car at the hotel. Nobody does that.”
Nick had a sudden thought. “Has anyone checked to see if the car was somehow decommissioned or not running?”
“Ahead of you there, buddy. Barela doesn’t miss many details. He had that checked out. The car was running just fine.”
“We are a little lost on where he died or how he came to be in the video. Great. That’s why this stuff is hard, but if we keep pushing through it all, we’ll figure it out. Next on the list is the status of finding Sally Smith, the prostitute who signed and paid for Blair’s room at the Lonesome Dove Motel.”
“Nick,” Burleson said, “of everything I’ve done on this investigation, this is the one thing I’ve worked the hardest. I bet I’ve talked to a hundred people trying to find her. We have the composite sketch, and I’ve talked to every whore, pimp, by-the-hour motel owner, and john I know. As you know, it hasn’t been that long since I transferred over from vice. I’ve threatened them and offered to bribe them. None of them, not a one, ever saw her before. She came and went. A one-night show.”
“You know what I think, Vince?” Nick asked. “I don’t think Sally Smith is a prostitute, or if she is, I don’t think that was her role that night. I think she was working for whoever killed Steven Blair. And I’ll bet you her only job was to get a key to a room, nothing else. She walked into that room, waited until no one was looking, walked out, delivered the key to the appointed place, and was gone. She’s not from Denver, and she’s never coming back. That’s what I think.”
Burleson pondered that for a bit. “If you had told me that before, it would have saved me a lot of time.”
Nick laughed. “Hey, we’re figuring this out as we go. It’s only a theory, too, but it does make a lot of sense.”
“You’re probably right,” Burleson conceded.
“Why was Blair cleaned up, dressed in some weird Puritan preacher outfit, and placed in the Lonesome Dove Motel?”
It was Burleson’s turn. “We’re doing theories, here’s mine. I think we’re dealing with a serious whack job. There are advantages and disadvantages being the new guy in homicide. One of the advantages is I’ve just read all the most current information on people like this. I do think you’re right that we’re dealing with a serial killer. This guy is extremely organized. He’s bold in his approach. And by every indication, he’s done this many times before. Let me tell you what I mean.” Burleson was just getting warmed up. He continued as he drove.
“First, he uses Sally Smith, or whatever her name is. I’m sure she had no idea what the room was being used for. She paid for it and left no evidence of the real killer. Next, after Blair is killed, he’s cleaned, prepared, and dressed. He’s then transported away from the studio where he was murdered to a predetermined location, probably in another city, and placed. In this case, of course, it’s the Lonesome Dove Motel. In the middle of all of this, our perp somehow stages a snuff video. I’m not buying for a minute that those two women in that video were anything other than involuntary play actors, just like Blair. Blair had a hammer. Our killer set this up as a fair fight. We could have been finding one or both of the women instead. Remember the video included those off-camera instructions to kill him or die.”
At that he paused, and they both considered what he had said.
“Jesus, Burleson, you’re right,” Nick agreed. “Whoever staged that set it up so it would be a fair battle. One strong man again
st two weaker women.”
“He hurt one of those women pretty bad, too,” Burleson offered. “If we do get closer, we could check ER records. But we have to get a location.”
They talked as they drove. Glenwood Canyon was spectacular, with red rocks rising hundreds of feet above the canyon floor. Nick considered the majesty of it all as he contrasted it with the ugliness of the business at hand.
Nick returned to brainstorming. “Let’s say you’re right, that these two women were involuntary actors, too. Then where are they? They must be dead, too. We should try to find them.”
Burleson nodded as he drove.
“We have to get to the source of the video,” Nick concluded. “There are others out there, I’m sure of it. We have to find all these videos and track down the surviving participants, if there are any.”
“And find out who all the dead people are,” Vince added.
“That’s right.” They drove into Grand Junction in silence.
The detectives arrived at the Grand Junction Police Headquarters shortly after two in the afternoon to much more fanfare than they had anticipated.
“Gentlemen, the Chief is expecting you,” the receptionist announced before they introduced themselves.
They were led through the sparse offices to a meeting room of sorts. On a side table, there was a spread including sandwiches, pasta salad, potato chips, cookies, and assorted drinks. As the two detectives were eyeing all of this, the Chief of the Grand Junction Police Department burst into the room.
“Gentlemen,” he blared as they turned. “I’m Chief Rossi. Please call me Jim.”
Nick and Vince introduced themselves.
“Sandy’s right behind me,” he announced, as she walked into the room. “We appreciate you coming on such short notice.”
“Hi, I’m Sandy Burns,” she said, extending her hand. Nick and Vince repeated their introductions.
“Gentlemen,” Rossi started, “we have a rather unusual situation on our hands here. Sandy and I spent considerable time on the phone with Chief Detective Bosworth this morning. We agreed it was best to have as much information as possible before you arrived so we could make the best use of your time here. Sandy and I are most interested in comparing notes with you, but we believe what we are going to find is that whoever killed your Steven Blair is the same person who killed our Jane Doe.”
Rossi was extremely young to be the Chief of a police department, Nick thought, particularly one the size of Grand Junction. Nick estimated him to be thirty-five, tops. He was NBA point guard tall and NFL running back solid. Jim Rossi struck an imposing figure in this room, probably most rooms.
“Given how quickly you got here, I’m guessing you haven’t had anything to eat. We had sandwiches and fixings brought in especially for you. Please help yourselves.” Rossi’s hospitality set the tone for their emerging working relationship.
Can I catch my breath for about thirty seconds, Nick mused after the enthusiastic but hyperactive chief stopped speaking? Instead, he said, “That’s great. Thank you very much.” He moved to the table and prepared a plate, thinking this would slow down the onslaught. He was wrong.
Rossi pressed on, “We have never had anything like this in Grand Junction before. We know our folks, and they do some pretty screwed up things, including killing each other. But they don’t do things like this. I was hoping Sandy could go through all she has and compare to what you have and see if we have a match. I’m guessing we have us a serial killer here.” Rossi said this as if it was the best news he had ever heard. Nick figured things must be a little slow out on the Western Slope.
Sandy Burns turned out to be reserved and methodical, quite the opposite of her boss. She laid out her case for the two detectives.
“We received a 911 call at approximately 2:43 p.m. yesterday of a possible homicide at the Mesa View Motel. I was assigned the investigation and arrived on the scene at approximately 3:30. Jane Doe had been found dead by one of the motel’s maids. She had contaminated the scene slightly, but in my assessment not in any substantial way.
“Jane Doe was determined to be approximately twenty-five years old, blonde, 5’5” and 120 pounds. She was found wearing a most unusual outfit.” At this, Detective Burns pulled out a number of photographs from a folder and handed them to Nick and Vince. They looked at them as she continued, editorializing no further on the attire.
“Upon investigation by the forensics team, it was ascertained that postmortem, someone had washed Ms. Doe, reapplied makeup, styled her hair, and dressed her in clean clothes. The coroner’s preliminary conclusion is Ms. Doe died of asphyxiation. She was strangled to death. There were dark marks around her neck that lead me to believe this will be the ultimate conclusion as well.
“I interviewed the motel manager. The room was rented to a Suzy Johnson. She paid cash for the room. The motel manager viewed the victim and ascertained she was not Suzy Johnson. While he stated she was unremarkable, his best recollection was that she was approximately 5’3”, 135 pounds, Caucasian, with dark hair and dark eyes. He was certain he would not be able to pick her out of a lineup of similar females; as I said, she was unremarkable.”
Sandy Burns looked down at her notes. “The coroner set the original time of death as three to four days earlier. She had been dead for some time. Since Suzy Johnson did not rent the room until approximately 5:00 p.m. the previous day, it is almost certain Jane Doe did not perish in that room.”
She looked up. “Any questions?”
The two detectives asked a number of clarifying questions, receiving no surprises. They then laid out the case of Steven Blair for Detective Burns and Chief Rossi. They shared their most recent speculations from their drive, with Burns and Rossi nodding in agreement.
“Did you bring the flash drive?” Burns asked.
Nick nodded. “We did.”
“I think it would be good if we saw it,” she replied.
Nick considered himself a modern man. But the thought of viewing this lurid video with a woman he had just met made him extremely uncomfortable. He knew better, though, and pulled the drive from the thick file and booted up the video on his laptop.
As the four watched, Rossi talked constantly. At times they had to back up so they could hear what was said because Detective Burns wanted to capture everything.
It was late in the afternoon before the meeting concluded.
“We’ve made arrangements for you to stay over at the Johnson’s Bed & Breakfast,” Rossi said as they were wrapping things up. “How about if you head over there and check in, and Detective Burns and I will buy you dinner.” They agreed to meet at a local steakhouse at 9:00, and the two Denver detectives headed to their accommodations.
“Hey buddy,” Nick said to Nicky, Jr. when he answered on the first ring.
“Hey, dad,” he responded happily.
“What are you doing?”
“A couple of the guys are over and we’re playing video games.”
“That sounds good.” They exchanged some inane barbs until Nick finally got to the point of the call.
“I’m in Grand Junction. Something came up on one of my cases, and I had to come up here today. I’m not sure if I’m going to be home tomorrow. I know you have a soccer game, but I’m afraid I may have to miss it.”
“It’s okay, dad,” Nicky replied unenthusiastically. “Shit happens.”
It was the first time Nicky had ever used an expletive casually like this with Nick. It was a test, and he knew it. He hadn’t studied for this part of the exam. He ignored it.
“I’ll do everything I can to be there. Those games are really important to me.” He heard yelling and laughing in the background.
“I’m sure. I have to go,” Nicky said, and disconnected.
Nick’s phone buzzed. Caller ID revealed Claudia Holloway.
“Hi, Claudia,” he answered. “Finding anything good?”
“I think you’re barking up the right tree,” she said. “I’m sure I’m g
oing to tell you things you already know, but here goes. Mr. Greene has maintained his innocence from his initial interrogation to this moment. He never retained counsel to halt interviews. He agreed to a polygraph and passed with no hint of deception. He had a good alibi, but time of death was uncertain, so that was called into question. Specifically, the murder could have happened at three in the morning when no one really has a good alibi.
“In my assessment, he was convicted for three reasons. His fingerprints were found in the motel room. A witness ID’s him as being at the scene. And he admitted to selling goods stolen from Mr. Robinson.
“Nick, this is a very weak case. He had stayed in the motel room for three days, and he was the last occupant of that room before Mr. Robinson. The witness who ID’d him had been drinking, some said heavily, prior to the time he said he saw Mr. Greene at the motel. I don’t know if you’ve seen Mr. Greene or been to Montrose, but Mr. Greene plus or minus looks like every other guy there. He’s average size and build, always wears a ball cap, jeans, and a t-shirt, and shaves only periodically. He’s an average guy in that town. I’m not saying the witness is lying, I’m just saying it’s questionable as to what he actually saw. And Mr. Greene readily admitted to law enforcement when he was detained that he had sold stolen goods. His story is that he took those items off the dash of an unlocked car on the other side of town. He received around $100 from the pawn store for a watch and two rings that belonged to Mr. Robinson.
“The pawn broker first brought Mr. Greene to law enforcement’s attention. Greene pawned those items before Mr. Robinson was found. Once that story hit the news, the pawn broker became concerned and contacted the local sheriff. Sure enough, Robinson’s wife confirmed those items were his.
“I haven’t called the coroner yet. You may even want to do that. But looking at the file, it appears Mr. Robinson was not killed at the motel. If that’s the case, then it’s highly unlikely Greene killed him.
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