“They’re ready,” the guard standing at the door said.
Beth and I stood and headed next door while Bill and Scott waited in the observation room with Lieutenant Whishaw, the assistant warden, and the guy running the equipment to monitor the room.
I pulled the door open and allowed Beth to enter. Then I followed her in and took a seat beside her and across the table from McCoy and her attorney. McCoy’s head was down. She stared at her hands locked to the table in front of her.
“We’re Agents Rawlings and”—I pointed at Beth—“Harper.”
Molly McCoy lifted her head. “You’re murderers is what you are,” she said under her breath.
Neither Beth nor I responded.
“I’m Attorney Keith Buford,” the man said. “My client has a specific request for relinquishing some information. The information she has is, um… Let’s just call it monumental. Though I have to say this isn’t really a deal on my client’s behalf, and her request is against my advice. It’s so far against my advice that, as I sit here, I’m debating standing and leaving this room.” He let out a breath.
“Just do what I say,” McCoy said. “You’re the attorney. Just shut up and do your damn job.”
I glanced at Beth. There wasn’t a word that had come out of the attorney’s mouth, other than his name, that didn’t seem odd. I looked back at him. “The request?” I asked.
Buford stared at McCoy, who’d returned to staring down at the table before her, and said, “She’ll give you some information regarding something that has nothing to do with her and, if it pans out, is without a doubt enough for a significantly reduced sentence. She wants to give the information in exchange for where she’ll be tried.” He looked back at me. “That’s it. She just wants to have a say in where she’s charged. She’s also prepared to plead guilty to every charge even though, as of this moment, neither she nor I, for that matter, know exactly what the full extent of the charges will be.”
McCoy raised her head and looked at her attorney. “What, you think they’ll let me ever see the light of day again? You think I have a shot of convincing a courtroom to let me go. Get real. These two know what Nick and I did. Hell, I had a gun to this bitch’s head not twenty-four hours ago.” McCoy looked at Beth. “I should have blew your head off, bitch. Would have made no difference to me in the position I’m in now. Maybe that would have stopped you from shooting the love of my life in cold blood.”
“Cold blood?” Beth asked. “You must have missed the part where he went for his gun or shot at federal agents or killed who knows how many people.”
“Whatever,” McCoy said.
With McCoy in front of me, I had a few questions that I wanted answers to prior to hearing what she wanted to exchange for a deal.
“Where did you two meet?” I asked.
“What business is that of yours?”
“How long were you two together?” I asked.
“Again, none of your damn business.”
“Well, you say he was the love of your life, right? I’d just like to know how this relationship developed.”
“I’m not telling you shit. You think you can kill him and I’m going to give you anything? He didn’t deserve to be gunned down like that.”
“But the countless people you killed deserved what you two did to them?” I asked. “The boy deserved to see you kill his parents in front of him?”
“That was different,” she said. “We were trying to get away.”
“How did that work out for you?” Beth asked.
McCoy stood from her seat and jerked at her chains. “You want to start something with me?”
“I’m sure that attitude will help you where you’re going,” I said.
The guard stepped from his position in the room at the back wall. “That’s enough, inmate,” he said. “Back in the chair.”
McCoy let out a puff of air through her nostrils and sat. The guard took his original position against the wall.
“So are we playing ball here?” the attorney asked.
“She wants a say in where she’s tried, and for that she’ll give us some”—Beth made quotes in the air—“monumental information. That’s what we’re looking at here?”
I figured she would want to be charged in one of the states she’d committed, or was a party to, a homicide in that didn’t have capital punishment. I guessed it was understandable for someone that knew she would spend the rest of her days in a cage.
“Correct,” Attorney Buford said.
“I have to say you’re laying it on pretty thick about the information Ms. McCoy possesses,” Beth said.
“If what my client has told me is true, there is reason for it.”
McCoy lifted her head to look at Beth and then at me. Her jaw muscles flexed from her clenching her teeth.
Beth must have noticed her body language as well. “Something else to say Ms. McCoy?” Beth asked.
“Yeah, are you going to do the deal or what? If not, you two can go pound sand. I’m sick of looking at your faces.”
“One second,” Beth said.
She stood and waved for me to follow her from the room. I did, and we walked into the observation room with Bill and Scott.
“What are we thinking here?” Beth asked.
Scott shrugged. “Hell, let’s see what she has to say unless you guys have a problem with her seeing or not seeing lethal injection. She either gets to spend the rest of her natural life behind bars or however long it takes until her number comes up. Makes no difference to me.”
“What the hell could she have that’s so damn important?” Bill asked. “The lawyer seems to be making one hell of a big deal about it.”
“There’s only one way to find out. So we’re telling her yes on a deal?” Beth asked.
“Yeah, I’ll call Ball, and he’ll get it taken care of,” Scott said.
“Okay,” Beth said.
She and I headed back to the next room and retook our seats.
“We’ll deal,” Beth said. “Whatever information you have will have to obviously be verified, but we’ll make sure you get tried where you wish. This room is monitored, so you have our acceptance of a deal recorded. We’ll get all the paperwork together after the information is verified. Where would your client like to be tried?”
“Here in Montana. She wants the death penalty,” Attorney Buford said.
McCoy looked up. “I want to be with Nick again.”
“Interesting,” I said. “So let’s hear this information.”
“Red has a drug tunnel from his property that crosses into Canada,” McCoy said. “We needed him to get us into it, which is why we were there.”
“A drug tunnel under the border?” I asked. “And you’ve seen this?”
“Yup. That was where we were headed. You know, before this bitch assaulted me and you two murdered Nick.”
“Right,” I said. “The tunnel thing seems a bit far-fetched. Why don’t you describe it to me.”
“I need to describe a tunnel?” she asked.
“Humor me,” I said.
“There’s a shed. The tunnel entrance is inside, covered by a big metal door, almost like a safe would have. It has a big combination lock on it. He opened it for me once and showed me. Had some concrete stairs that went down, and then it turned black.”
“Why would he show this to you?” Beth asked. “What was your involvement?”
“Nothing. I used to sleep with the guy. Maybe he trusted me or something.”
I shook my head, not entirely buying her story. As far as I knew, there had only ever been one drug tunnel found that crossed the Canadian border. However, that wasn’t the part that bothered me. What bothered me was the fact that he’d showed it to her for seemingly no reason. It’s not something that would be done unless she was involved somehow.
“Did you ever run drugs across the border, using this tunnel?” I asked.
“No. I just told you I wasn’t involved with any of that.”
<
br /> “You realize that you telling us if you were is pretty much going to have zero effect on the rest of your life, correct?” Beth asked.
“Like I said, twice now, I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“Did you ever see the drugs that were being transported across?” Beth asked.
McCoy shook her head.
“That’s it? Anything else?” I asked.
“That’s it,” she said.
“Okay. We’ll get people looking into it. We should know something shortly, and you’ll be informed,” I said.
“Are you guys done with her?” the guard asked.
I slid my chair back and stood as Beth did the same.
“We’re finished,” I said.
Beth and I left the room and walked next door. The lieutenant was on his radio, Scott on his phone.
Lieutenant Whishaw looked at me. “Do we want to pick up Gormon? Bring him in and sit him down?”
“Let’s just wait on that for a second,” I said.
Scott clicked off from his call. “That was Ball. He’s going to get everything rolling with contacting the DEA.”
“I may have an easier way to do that.”
“Your wife?” Scott asked.
I nodded, pulled my phone, and made a call to Karen.
“Hey, hon,” she answered.
“Babe, I might have something for you to check out—more of a professional call than husband call.”
She chuckled. “I’m listening.”
“Molly McCoy claims she knows of a drug tunnel crossing from up here in Montana under the border to Canada. The location is about two and a half hours from us. It’s on reservation property.”
“Drug tunnel? You’re serious.”
“I am,” I said.
“What’s your take on it? Do you think the information is good or not?” Karen asked.
“Um, hell, I don’t know—coin flip, maybe a bit less.”
“Okay. Well, either way, something like that, even if it turns out to be nothing, has to be checked out. I think Seattle is probably going to be our closest division. We’d have to fly in, obviously, but I can make the call.”
“Ah, just wait on that for a second. Let me get this guy that she’s claiming owns the land and see what we have going on. Our flight isn’t scheduled to leave until tomorrow morning, so if for some reason we have to drive up there, we’ll have the time. I don’t want to get too far into this and waste a ton of people’s time without verifying what we have or don’t have.” I glanced at my watch. “Let me give you a call back in a few hours.”
“Okay, babe. I’ll let a couple people know, but we’ll wait for your call.”
“All right.”
“Love you. Bye,” she said and clicked off.
I jammed my phone back in my pocket. “The closest DEA office is going to be Seattle, and they’d have to fly in. Let’s make a trip back to Gormon’s and see what he has to say for himself. After that, we can take a drive.”
“Did you want me to just call the reservation PD and have them go have a look?” Whishaw asked.
I shook my head. “No. Something of this magnitude, I want to set eyes on myself. You just never know.”
“Agreed,” Bill said.
We wrapped up and headed for Armond Gormon’s.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
We rolled up on Gormon’s barn-shaped house and stepped out. The lieutenant accompanied Bill, Scott, Beth, and me. I walked toward the left side of the house and up the stairs to the patio with the group following. I looked in and saw Gormon across the room, taping plastic up over the shot-out patio door on the far side. A broom and dustpan were resting against the wall. I rapped my knuckles on the glass. Beth came to my side, and Bill, Scott, and the lieutenant stood on the stairs leading up.
Gormon turned and looked back at me. He left what he was doing, walked over, and slid the door open.
“I don’t suppose you’re here to help me clean this mess up. I was going to ask if you guys planned on covering the damages.”
“I have a customer-service number you can call,” I said.
He shook his head.
“We need some more answers to some questions.”
He popped his head from the doorway and looked out at the rest of the group. “More friends today. You aren’t going to start shooting in here again, are you?”
I didn’t respond.
He waved us inside. We took spots around his big wooden kitchen counter. I caught a glimpse of a woman walking down the back hall toward the room where I saw his bedridden mother.
“Caregiver?” I asked.
Gormon nodded. “What can I do for you today?”
“Well, what can you tell us about a tunnel going from your property under the border to Canada?” I asked.
“Tunnel? What the hell are you talking about tunnel?” Gormon asked.
“Pretty much just what he asked,” Bill said.
“I don’t know anything about a tunnel,” he said.
“Molly McCoy claims you have a tunnel under the border. The entrance is inside a shed on your property. Their plan was to abduct you, have you get them through, then I’m fairly certain, kill you.”
Gormon laughed under his breath. “Oh, okay. I know what’s going on now. Man, that girl is gullible.” He smiled and shook his head.
“Do you mind letting us know what is so amusing?” Beth asked.
“Yeah, there’s no tunnel. There’s an underground shelter. See, one of my buddies who I own the property with is what you’d call a prepper. He built a shelter on the back of the property in, like, 2004. It’s stocked with food, water, survival gear… There’s a couple of firearms in there. And, um, I know where she may have gotten the idea that it was a tunnel.”
“Where’s that?” I asked.
“Well, when we’d have parties out at the house, it was my job to get the girls to come and cater. The only real reason for getting them out there was trying to sleep with them. Anyway, we’d take the girls on walks through the land. We’d always end up at the shed and then ask them if they wanted to see something. We’d open the door of the shelter and shine a flashlight down. We’d never let them actually go down in there. We’d tell them it was for smuggling. It made us seem, I don’t know, bad, mysterious, dangerous, whatever you want to call it. You’d be amazed how much it helped us to, um, get lucky.”
“You and your friends sound like a great bunch,” I said.
“Keep in mind this was some time ago. I’ve since found religion.”
“That’s just great,” I said. “Anyway, so this shelter. It has a big metal door with a combination on it?”
“Yup. Combination is the month and year the shelter was completed. Unless it’s since been changed. I haven’t been to the shed or tried to open it in quite some time. I think I still may have a key for it around here somewhere, though. So that’s it—she told you there was a tunnel up there? Not too bright, I guess. Okay, well, I’m going to need to get back to my taping and hanging plastic if there’s nothing else.” He turned and headed for the living room.
“There’s something else,” Beth said.
He stopped. “What?”
“We’re going to take a drive, and you’re going to show us the shelter.”
“I can’t do that. My mother can’t be left unattended,” Gormon said.
“Good thing you have that caregiver here, then,” Scott said.
Gormon rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Are you guys serious? That’s, like, five hours I’ll be gone for nothing. I have things to do.”
“This isn’t really something that’s optional,” Scott said. “Yet, there are a couple ways we can do it. I’d say, if you have nothing to hide and wish to do this in the shortest amount of time possible, you come with us now and we take a ride. The other option involves you in custody until we sort everything out.”
Gormon let out a breath. “Fine. Let me go see if Nancy can keep an eye on my mother until I return.”
“Bring that key you have as well,” Bill said.
He walked toward the back bedroom, and we kept eyes on him as he did.
The lieutenant got clearance from his department to come along. We wanted him in an official car in case the man decided to try something during the trip. Whishaw led the way with Beth and me behind and Scott and Bill driving behind us. The drive, as expected, took us over two hours. I caught a small sign reading Entering Babb pass my window. I looked beyond the brown grass, shrubs, and patches of trees to the mountains in the distance. We followed the lieutenant for another couple of miles before turning off on a gravel road to our right. We drove another five minutes before turning again and traveling another ten minutes on a smaller gravel road that wasn’t much wider than a driveway. I scanned our surroundings left and right, seeing nothing but untouched nature. The lieutenant turned again. A half mile up, an orange log cabin sat against a small hill. We approached, parked, and stepped out. The home was average sized, three bedrooms at the most, I imagined. A screened-in porch spanned the entire front. The roof line was peaked in the center with smaller windows and dormers to the sides of the center sections. I didn’t spot any other vehicles there.
Whishaw took Gormon from the back of his cruiser. He leaned against the car and shook his head. “This is such a waste of time,” he said.
“That’s fine,” I said. “These kinds of things need to be checked out. Which way to the shed?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes and rubbed his balding head. “It’s back that way.” He pointed past the cabin. “Maybe a half mile or so. We’ll have to walk. Geez, this is a real pain in my ass. I mean, it’s not even my shelter. You should be dealing with Brad.”
“Brad?” I asked.
“Reynolds. One of the guys I own the land and cabin with. It’s his shelter.”
“Okay. Well, we’re here, so let’s take a look and get this over with,” Beth said.
“Whatever. Follow me.” He started past the house. Behind the house, he walked up a small trail.
We followed. The walk along the path through the grass, brush, and scattered trees took us the better part of ten minutes.
Committed Page 20