by Alexa Grace
The department recorded all interviews and stored the recordings on DVDs, so Brody flipped on the television and the recording equipment, slipped in a fresh DVD, then stood at the one-way glass to get a good look at Shelly Tyler before he went in. She had to be the most emaciated woman he'd ever seen, just skin and bones, with reddened sores all over her face and arms. With short, spiked hair, dyed a flaming red, she looked like she'd just escaped from a burning building.
Her body was in constant movement, as she alternated between picking at her skin and pulling at strands of her hair. He'd bet anything this woman was a meth-head. At this moment, her anger at her husband was outweighing her need for the drug, but Brody knew that as time went on, her need for meth would supersede all else. If he wanted information, he needed to move fast.
In the interview room, he placed his folder on the table, sat down and looked at Shelly. "Would you like a cup of coffee, water or anything else?"
"Not now," she replied. "You're one of the Chase brothers, aren't you?
"Yes, do I know you?"
"Probably not. You're older than your two brothers, and we didn't exactly run in the same high school circles," she began. "Your brother, Gabe, was in a couple of my classes. I used to be hot for him big time, but don't think he ever noticed me."
Brody nodded and changed the subject, "Deputy Ryder said you have something to tell me."
Shelly crossed her arms tightly across her breasts, as if that were the only thing she could do to still the constant, jerky movement of her hands. "My sonofabitch husband, Ron, has a meth lab and has been cooking for more than five years."
"If that's true, why haven't you reported this before?" asked Brody.
Fidgeting in her chair, she responded, "Guess I was afraid."
"Afraid of Ron, or afraid to lose your supply?"
"Fuck you," Shelly spat, as she glared at him.
"How'd you get those burn marks on your lips, Shelly?" Brody pressed on.
"Hot coffee," she returned, with her eyes glued to the table.
"Hot coffee? Did hot coffee cause those track marks on your arms too?"
Shoving the sleeves of her green sweater down to her wrists, she looked at the floor.
"You're looking very thin, Shelly. How much do you weigh?"
"Not your business, but around ninety pounds. I've been on the Jenny Crank diet," she answered and then laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I'm a user. So fucking what? I'm handing you a meth lab on a silver platter. You interested or not?"
"You may know about a meth lab, or you may not. How do I know you're not spinning a story just to get back at your husband?" It wasn't that Brody thought she was lying, but he knew unless she had some kind of evidence to back up her story, he couldn't move on it.
Shelly picked up an old brown leather purse from the floor and dug around in it until she found an envelope. Plucking out a photograph, she slammed it on the table in front of Brody and said, "What does that look like to you, Sherlock?"
He picked up the photo of what looked like an ordinary kitchen. Except in this kitchen, a row of Coleman camping fuel cans filled a shelf of an open cabinet. Large open boxes of coffee filters, small plastic bags, and lithium batteries lined the wall under a window. There was also a supply of drain cleaner, paint thinner, and rock salt.
On the kitchen counter were dozens of packages of Sudafed and other types of cold medicines next to a coffee grinder and a blender. This section of the counter appeared to be coated with white powder.
"How's he getting all the decongestants?" asked Brody. If Ron was cooking meth, he'd need a steady supply of decongestants with pseudoephedrine. It was a precursor ingredient, and it wasn't sold over the counter. You had to ask a pharmacist for it, and he or she recorded your name and address.
"There's a group of us who go to different pharmacies at least twice a month."
Brody nodded. This information would be easy to verify. The state's pharmacies recorded in a database any purchases of decongestants with pseudoephedrine.
"I'm going to need names."
Shelly shifted in her chair. Obviously, she had not expected to be asked for names. "Are you trying to get me killed?"
"They wouldn't have to know the names came from you."
Shelly nodded, considered this offer, but said nothing. She slid another photo to him. This one was a shot of a messy living room. On the coffee table was a dozen small plastic bags filled with powder or crystal meth, short straws, a small mirror with a razor blade, a couple of burned spoons, rubber tubing, a glass pipe, and three syringes.
Brody stared hard at Shelly for a moment and said, "So why are you here, Shelly? Sounds like you've had close to five years to report Ron's meth lab. Why now? And don't even think about lying to me."
Tears glittering in her eyes, she said, "He's dumping me." She pulled a tissue out of her purse to blow her nose. "The bastard is leaving me for a thirteen-year-old girl."
An alarm going off in his head, Brody straightened in his seat. "How do you know this?"
"He left his laptop open when he left the house yesterday. I heard a beep and looked at the screen and saw he'd gotten a message from @HotBloomieTeen. I opened it. The email was from this girl in Bloomington. I think Ron asked this girl for her photo." Shelly pulled out a folded piece of paper that she spread out on the table to show to him.
Brody stared at the paper. The girl in the photo looked too young to even be interested in boys, and here she was sending a naked photo of herself to a man old enough to be her father. It looked like the photo had been taken by a web cam. Posing with a seductive pout, she had one finger in her mouth, and with her other hand was inserting two fingers into her vagina. Bile rushed to Brody's throat; he felt nauseous. Her underdeveloped breasts were a sign that she was more child than even a teenager.
"How do you know Ron is leaving you for her?"
"It was pretty clear in their emails. They're making arrangements to meet," said Shelly, as she dabbed at the stream of tears running from her eyes.
"Do you know where?"
"Ron's trying hard to get her to come to Morel."
Brody just stared at her. He thought about the dead girls, Amanda and Sophia, from opposite ends of the state and how they ended up in Shawnee County. Could the girls have met Ron Tyler online? Could they have been lured here by Ron Tyler?
"Wait here, I'll be right back," Brody said abruptly, as he jumped to his feet. He left the interview room and headed for the sheriff's conference room, where he knew Carly Stone was working. Without knocking, he shoved open the door and rushed in.
Hurriedly, he filled Carly in on what he'd learned from Shelly about the meth lab. "You might want to talk to her."
"What does a meth lab have to do with our two victims?" Carly asked, clearly confused.
"The reason why she's reporting the lab is because she thinks her thirty-nine-year-old husband is planning to dump her for this girl." Brody handed Carly the folded, printed photo.
"You have got to be kidding. This kid looks like she's barely eleven."
"Exactly. According to Shelly, she lives in Bloomington, and her husband is persuading the girl to come visit him in Morel." Brody paused for a second.
"So you're wondering if our victims were lured here by Ron Tyler?" Carly said.
Brody nodded and asked, "Do you want to talk to her?"
"I thought you'd never ask," Carly said with a grin.
Brody led Carly back to the interview room, introduced the two women and left them alone. He went to Cameron's office and said, "You might want to listen to this interview."
On the way to the interview room, Brody filled his brother in on what he'd learned. Soon the two men were in the small conference room next to the interview room, standing at the glass wall, watching and listening.
Shelly sat back in her chair, sizing Carly up. "Who are you and why do I need to talk to you? I've given Sheriff Chase more than enough information about my husband's meth lab."
"As
he told you, my name is Carly Stone. I'm a consultant on a project with the Sheriff," she said, quietly adding, "I'm sorry this happened to you."
"What have you got to be sorry about?" Shelly squirmed in her chair and smirked.
"You're not the only one who's had a man she trusted cheat on her with another woman," Carly said softly.
At this, Shelly simply nodded and looked down at her hands which now were clenched fists. A tear slipped out of one eye and skimmed down her cheek.
Carly paused for a moment and said, "What I'm interested in is your husband's communication with this young lady." She pushed the printout of the girl's photo across the table to Shelly.
Shelly's face reddened with anger. Leaning forward, she said, "I wouldn't say she's a lady. The words 'teen slut' come to mind."
Carly ignored the remark and continued, "What's the girl's name?"
"If I knew the bitch's name, I'd be in Bloomington kicking her ass for screwing with my husband and breaking up my marriage."
"How did your husband meet her online? Is he active on Facebook, MySpace, or chat rooms?"
"A chat room was mentioned in one of the emails, but I don't recall the name."
"How are they communicating? Email? Chat? Texts? Instant messages?"
Shelly sighed and said, "Just found the emails."
"How many emails did you find?"
"Just a couple. I was printing the photo when Ron came into the house, and I didn't want him to catch me with his laptop. It's off limits." Shelly paused, then angrily added, "Now I know why."
Carly looked down at the folded paper. "This photo and email were sent last month. Were any of the emails you saw dated more recently?"
"No. Jesus. Aren't you listening? I only saw a couple of them." Frustrated and visibly shaking now, Shelly got up and began to pace.
"Do you think your husband is using instant messaging to communicate with this girl?" Carly asked. Experience had taught her that Internet predators prefer children who have instant message accounts. Although some use email, many prefer communicating with their victims through instant messages. Predators know that while emails are saved automatically and have to be manually deleted, instant messages tend to evaporate once the instant message window is closed. If Ron Tyler had switched from email to instant messaging, it would not bode well for collecting evidence.
"How the hell would I know? I only saw the email."
Realizing she wouldn't get much more useful information from Shelly, Carly asked, "Did Sheriff Chase give you his business card?"
Shelly rummaged through her purse, found the card and handed it to Carly.
Carly wrote on the back of it, "Here is my cell phone number. Would you please call me if you think of anything else that might be helpful?"
"Why in the hell do you want to know more about my cheatin' husband's on-the-side romance?"
"What your husband is doing has nothing to do with romance. He's a sex predator." Carly tapped her finger on the folded photo. "This little girl is his victim, not his love interest. I need your help and cooperation to stop him from ruining her life or worse."
Shelly just stared at Carly as if confused.
Carly handed her the business card. "You have my number; call it if you have more information about the girl. I'll get Sheriff Chase for you."
Carly left the room and nearly slammed into Brody in the hallway.
"We need a search warrant for his laptop, cell phone, tablet, and whatever else he has."
"Slow down, Carly. I can put those things in the search warrant, but we need to do the meth lab investigation first. I'll list the laptop, phone, and other electronic communication devices in the search warrant. We'll get those things during the bust."
"Okay, then what's next?"
Cameron joined them and answered, "We need to start the meth lab investigation from scratch. The best way to do that is to go undercover and try to buy drugs from the house. I'll need Shelly's help."
"I agree," said Brody. "See if she'll introduce you to Ron."
Brody and Carly moved to the two-way glass window and watched Shelly, who was now wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her shaking hand.
"Do you think she's withdrawing?" asked Carly.
"Maybe. She sure doesn't look good."
<><><>
Cameron entered the interview room with a can of Coke for Shelly. He handed it to her and returned to his chair across from her. She popped open the can, lifted it, and took a long drink.
"I'm Detective Chase," he said.
"I know who you are, Cameron," she stated. "We went to the same high school."
"That so?"
"I won't hold it against you that you don't remember me."
"Sorry, but that was a long time ago," Cameron said.
"Listen, I've told your brother and that consultant all I know. I need to go," said Shelly.
"Sorry, Shelly, there's this other thing I need to discuss with you."
"What's that?"
"I need your help."
"I've already helped," she returned.
"Right. But in order to make this bust work, I'll need to go undercover so you can introduce me to Ron as a buyer."
Shelly flew to her feet, knocking her chair over in the process, shaking with rage. "Are you fucking nuts?" She asked incredulously. "No way. There is no way Ron is going to believe your Boy Scout ass is a buyer. He'll see you as a cop a mile away. Do you have any idea what he'd do to me if I brought a cop home?"
"This wouldn't be my first time to go undercover, Shelly."
"Get your little brother to do it. I saw Gabe at the Donut Place last week. He's got an edge to him that you don't have. With his long hair and tattoos, there's more of a chance Ron would believe he was a buyer."
"I'm not sure I can get Gabe..."
"Then you can forget this little undercover drama. There's too much risk for me. You don't know how violent Ron can be."
Cameron left the room, closing the door behind him. He quickly found Brody with Carly in the small observation room.
"Did you hear what she said?"
"I heard her and the answer is no. Besides the fact his expertise is in computer forensics, Gabe's not in law enforcement," Brody said.
"Does that matter?" asked Carly. "I've known a lot of informants who were not in law enforcement. Besides, didn't you tell me he graduated from the academy? He just decided to open his private investigation company instead. He's trained. Why can't he do it?"
"Because he has an overprotective older brother who's the county sheriff," said Cameron. He watched as Brody walked away.
"Brody, where are you going?" Carly called after him.
"To my office to call Gabe."
<><><>
Chapter Eleven
Four law enforcement officers in the area who were certified to process meth labs were sitting around the conference table the next day when Carly entered the room: Brody and Cameron Chase, Deputy Jim Ryder, and Carly's brother, Blake Stone, who was on loan from Sheriff Tim Brennan. Though not certified to process meth labs, Gabe was in attendance, too. Brody had deputized him for the undercover stint, and Gabe wanted to see the thing through.
An unshaven Gabe Chase dressed in torn jeans and a leather vest had successfully purchased three grams of crystal meth from Ron Tyler the day before. Because he was wired, the entire purchase conversation was recorded. In addition, he'd observed a couple of rolled-up dollar bills, a glass pipe, a broken mirror, razor blades, syringes and small bags of white crystals on a coffee table in the front room. Gabe warned them of a modified propane tank in back of the house. He reported that the brass fitting on top of the tank had a bluish-green tint, and was probably filled with anhydrous ammonia, a farm fertilizer used in making methamphetamine. The chemical was highly poisonous, corrosive and explosive.
Ron had even given Gabe a tour of the meth lab he'd created in the kitchen. Shelly had been telling the truth. Ron was not cooking this week because he had ple
nty of supply. It was the ideal time for the bust.
Fire Chief Wayne Lansky was in attendance, too. Since production of meth carries a strong risk of fire or explosion, his specially-trained hazmat team would follow the sheriff's undercover van.
Carly filled her mug up with hot coffee, squeezed her brother's shoulder, and sat down next to him as Brody opened the meeting.
"You've all been briefed on the operation." Brody began. "Today, we'll discuss the specifics on how the bust will go down." He turned on a projector that flashed a house plan on the screen. "This is a sketch Gabe made of the layout of the house."
Brody picked up a laser pointer from the table and continued, "Detective Chase and Deputy Ryder will enter the house from the front. Once inside, there is a combination living and dining room. The place is a mess, so watch where you walk. There are two openings in this room. The one to your right leads to a kitchen that runs the width of the back of the house. This is where Ron has the meth lab. The doorway to your left leads to a long hallway where the bedrooms are located. Your target is the bedroom where Ron and Shelly sleep. It is the one to your left, just past a small bathroom, as you move to the front of the house."
Brody turned the group's attention to the back of the house on the drawing. "Detective Stone and I will cover the back of the house, including the long kitchen area where the meth lab is housed. Ron told Gabe that he wasn't cooking this week because he has plenty of supply, but we cannot be absolutely certain whether the lab is actively 'cooking', until we get there. So proceed with caution. The simple act of turning on an electrical switch may cause an explosion."
With all eyes on the screen, he continued, "Cameron and Ryder will use the battering ram to breach the front door and communicate with the rest of us as they clear each room."
"The bust will occur at four o'clock tomorrow morning, when it's more likely that Ron and Shelly will be sleeping. Make it look as if we are arresting Shelly, too, so Ron won't identify her as a snitch. She's still terrified Ron or one of his biker friends will off her. As part of her plea agreement and cooperation, Shelly will be taken to a rehab in Indianapolis and registered under an assumed name. Once released, she has an airline ticket to fly to Nevada, where she'll live with her parents and hopefully start her life over."