by Linda Berry
“Dental records show the proud owner of these choppers is Lancer Richards.”
“Lancer?” Sidney stood stunned, trying to digest the full implication of his words.
“You okay?”
She shook her head and thought out loud. “How can that be? What was Lancer doing in Grisly’s barn? Why was he trying to burn it down? Makes no sense.”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “You knew him?”
Her eyes met his steady gaze. “Granger and I found him beat and tied to a chair at his house two nights ago. We warned him he was in danger. Told him to leave town. He wouldn’t listen. I never thought he’d be killed by a game warden.”
All cheer disappeared from Linthrope’s face. “It’s not your fault he’s dead, Chief. Circumstances were beyond your control.”
The emotion she’d kept buried overnight surfaced in a sickening rush. Her words came out etched in guilt. “I sent the two wardens over there last night to investigate Grisly. One was critically shot, and the other was forced to kill a man. Clearly, they were out of their depth.”
“The game wardens are not the nice guys you think they are,” he said soberly.
“What do you mean?”
“Better follow me to the lab.”
Reeling, Sidney followed him down the hall. Stewart lifted his head from his microscope as they entered. Linthrope motioned for her to take a seat at a small table in the corner. “Got those reports, Stewart?”
“Right here.” Dressed in a white lab coat over grey slacks and loafers, Stewart picked up a file, pulled out a chair, and joined them.
Sidney removed her jacket and hung it on the back of her seat, then leaned forward, eager for useful information.
Stewart ceremoniously opened the file, lifted the top sheet of paper, and cleared his throat. “First, Lancer Richards’s toxicology report. No drugs or medication, but his blood alcohol level was .12 percent.”
“Wow. That’s high.”
“Stinking drunk is the unofficial term.”
“He relapsed,” Sidney said, reflecting. “Nikah’s death drove him back to drink. Most people would not have been functional, yet he managed to drive over to Grisly’s in the ice and snow, set a barn on fire, and engage in a gun fight.”
“Irrational behavior, for sure.”
“What else you got?”
“These reports are in chronological order, Chief, corresponding to the dates the forensic samples were submitted to the lab. Starting with the night we processed the residence of Nikah Tamanos. Nothing conclusive identifies the two intruders who broke into her house. The blood found on the floor in the guest room is a match to Nikah. Fingerprints found throughout the house belonged to both Nikah and her boyfriend, Lancer.”
Sidney felt the dull thud of disappointment. So far, nothing useful. “Anything else?”
Stewart pushed his glasses higher on his nose and nodded with a sly smile. “We also identified prints found in the bedroom. A match to River Menowa.”
“River?” Sidney’s adrenalin spiked. “I met him at the tribal meeting yesterday. Where in the bedroom?”
“The nightstand. The headboard.”
Finally, a substantiated lead. “Just as I suspected, he was having an affair with Nikah.”
“Presumably. We couldn’t identify the DNA on the extra toothbrush in her bathroom or the fluids on her sheets, but it’s safe to assume they’ll match River Menowa. We’ll need a DNA swab from him to confirm.”
“We’ll get one today. We can now place River in Nikah’s house. That makes him a strong suspect.” She remembered River’s smooth charm and his lack of emotion regarding Nikah, even though he’d been sleeping with her. One cold bastard. “He’s an ace at hiding his feelings. What else is he hiding?”
Stewart raised his head and met her gaze, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses. “We’re just getting warmed up here, Chief. We also matched prints on the top bill of the money packet in the tin box. Guess who they belong to?”
With every nerve standing at attention, Sidney’s patience ran out. “This isn’t Jeopardy, Stewart. Give me the name.”
“Sander Vance. We also found his prints, along with Lancer’s, on the decorative medallion and key.”
Sidney sat speechless.
“That’s not all. There’s one more piece of evidence linking Sander to Nikah and Lancer. The DNA on the crumpled tissue you found in Lancer’s bathroom the night of the break-in…”
“Matches Sander Vance,” Sidney finished for him.
“No. Harper Meade.”
Sidney sat pressed back in her chair as surprise rippled through her. “The two game wardens are the home invaders? Holy hell! They’ve been working together all along.”
Dr. Linthrope smiled. “Told you they’re not choir boys.”
Sidney rose to her feet and started pacing, her thoughts swirling like debris in a windstorm. “They broke into Nikah’s house. Then broke into Lancer’s house and viciously beat him. Beneath that boy next-door façade, Sander has a vicious streak. He’d started scalping Lancer. Who knows if he would have completed the job.”
Shock showed on the faces of the men.
“You would have noticed the bruises and stitches, Doc,” Sidney said, “If he wasn’t burnt to a crisp.”
“Holy moly,” Stewart said, eyes wide. “Maybe he killed Nikah.”
“I’d put my money on him over River,” Sidney said. “Lancer must have been partnering with the wardens. Exchanging a lot of cash.”
“If they were partners, why were they beating him?” Stewart asked.
“They really wanted that tin box he’d hidden,” Sidney said. “Aside from that wad of bills, that medallion and key may be very valuable. Sander’s prints are on them. Maybe Lancer stole them from him.”
“Goes to motive,” Stewart said.
“But why did Lancer pretend he didn’t know them?” Linthrope asked. “He took a vicious beating, yet protected them.”
“Probably to keep himself from being implicated,” Sidney said. “Stands to reason. The wardens had to be working with Grisly. Probably taking bribes to look the other way.”
“Was Lancer working with the poachers, too?” Stewart asked.
She shrugged. “Possibly. Maybe he burned down the barn to destroy evidence.”
“What about the shootout?” The doctor asked, scratching the back of his neck.
“Bad blood. He crossed them. They probably learned we confiscated the box, which erased Lancer’s leverage. I’m wondering now if his death was deliberate.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Linthrope said.
“Maybe they were getting revenge, or trying to keep him quiet,” Stewart said.
“In any case, Sander knew the corpse in the barn was Lancer, yet he led us to believe it was Grisly.”
The doctor’s brow furrowed. “Nasty characters.”
Sidney blew out a breath and shook her head. “Grisly’s still alive. He must be the rider following the old woman and the boy.”
The two men looked at her with questioning expressions, clueless to the other drama playing out in the backcountry.
She quickly filled them in on Elahan’s exodus from the village with the boy and the wolf.
“Holy moly,” Stewart repeated.
“Harper’s in the hospital, but I’m going to bring Sander in for questioning. You two did great work.” Sidney smiled her appreciation, grateful to have a first-class forensic team in a town as small as Garnerville. Her smile was warmly returned.
Sidney glanced at her watch. Nine a.m. Her two officers would be waiting at the station. “I gotta run. Keep me posted on Nikah’s postmortem.” Sidney left the building, her mind buzzing like an irritated beehive. Back in her vehicle, she radioed dispatch.
Jesse answered promptly. “Yeah, Chief?”
“Get hold of Captain Harrison, Jesse. Tell them we’ve identified the rider following Elahan as Grisly Stokes. Advise them to exercise caution. He’s dangerous. Use the phone
, not your radio.” Game wardens had radios that monitor local LE frequencies. Putting this info over the air would let Sander know they were on to him.
“Copy that, Chief.”
Sidney disconnected and tried calling Granger. No answer. She left a text with the same info.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
WASTING NO TIME getting to the station, Sidney entered through the back door, bypassing the lobby and her office, and entered the small conference room. Darnell sat hunched over a laptop, gazing intently at the screen. Amanda stood over him, peering down with an equally intense stare. They glanced up as she strode in. Darnell looked bleary-eyed and his face was shadowed with morning stubble.
“What alley cat dragged you in this morning?” Sidney asked him.
“Darnell was up most of the night, Chief,” Amanda said. “Looking through thousands of photos.”
Feeding into the no nonsense mood of the room, Sidney asked briskly, “What’cha got?”
“I’m inside Grisly’s computer,” Darnell said, his dark eyes flashing. “This is one of his most visited sites. It’s exclusive. Members only. I’m sure he thought its security was rigidly enforced.”
“But not from an expert hacker?”
He grinned. “Take a look.”
Sidney sank into a chair and Darnell turned the screen toward her. On a site called Game Exchange, with Hunter & Trapper News as the subhead, Darnell scrolled through an endless newsfeed of photos depicting hunters and trappers posing with their kills. “This is a site where hunters can show their wares and auction them off to the highest bidder. Darnell pointed to a photo with his pen. “Check this out, Chief.”
Sidney peered more closely. Two men, shown from the chest down, were holding up the carcass of a large gray wolf between them. Strewn on the ground at their feet were multiple carcasses of beavers, bobcats, and coyotes. The caption underneath read: A good week’s work. Bids for wolf pelt start at $900.
“Sunnovabitch,” Sidney said, fury constricting her chest. “Poachers. Did you get a hit on the contact info?
“No. This was taken a year ago. The contact number is obsolete. Probably a burner phone. But they did leave identifiers. First, the guy on the left. Take a close look at this.” He zoomed in on the man’s hand and Sidney noticed a jagged, one-inch scar near his wrist bone, shaped like a “Z.”
“Okay. I see a very recognizable scar.”
Next, Darnell zoomed in on the boots of the same man where the blade of a knife was half buried in the ground. The handle, hand carved from some kind of animal bone, was masterfully engraved with a skull and crossbones in front of a waving banner. “This is a one-of-a-kind, custom-made knife.”
“Okay.”
“Now look at the guy on the right.” Darnell zoomed in on a pocket of the orange safety vest the hunter wore, which was partially ripped at the seam. The pocket was stained by several drops of blood and a larger smear of blood.
Darnell switched to a different screen depicting various photos of men hunting and fishing. “This is another popular hunting site.” He pointed to a crouched man panfrying a rainbow trout over a campfire. Two men milled in the background, facing the river.
“Is that Sander Vance cooking?” Sidney asked, squinting.
“Yep. Sure is. Look at this, Chief.” Darnell brought up a photo that was a closeup shot of the man’s hand gripping the handle of the pan. Lying on a cutting board on the edge of the pit, beside chopped garlic and an onion, was the same custom knife.
Sidney frowned. “That’s incriminating. But the knife could belong to one of those other men.”
“Maybe. But this scar is Sander’s.” Darnell zoomed in on the man’s hand. The jagged scar near his wrist was unmistakable.
“Holy shit.”
“Sander was poaching,” Amanda said hotly. “Advertizing. Making a profit.”
“Killing a wolf is a federal offense,” Darnell said. “Punishable by up to $100,000 fine and a year in jail.
“He’s racking up enough offenses to put him in the slammer for years,” Sidney said.
“We’re just getting started here, Chief,” Darnell said. He scrolled through a few more pictures of Sander’s campsite and froze on the two men. “See the man in the orange vest facing the river?”
“The vest has the bloodstain on it, right?”
“Yep.” Darnell scrolled down, and brought up another photo of the man, facing the campsite.
The hair rose on Sidney’s arms. It was Grisly Stokes. “You just put Grisly and Sander together as partners in crime!”
The young officer beamed and turned back to the computer screen. “Here’s one last surprise for you, Chief. Taken two years ago.” Darnell went to yet another site, scrolled through more photos, and pointed out two men decked in camo gear. Each held a fan of hundred dollar bills and looked as giddy as lottery winners. The photo was fuzzy, but the men were still recognizable as Lancer and Grisly. They were in a distribution warehouse where thousands of hides of every shape and size were piled on shelves and tables. “From this warehouse,” Darnell said, “The furs are sold at auction to clothes designers all over the world, but primarily in Russia, China, and South Korea. Draping oneself in fur has become prestigious among the newly rich.”
“We now have evidence that Grisly and Lancer knew each other well, and apparently hunted together,” Sidney said. “But was Lancer poaching with him? That’s the question we need to answer. Most of the pelts in that warehouse came from legitimate sources.”
“But the fur industry is largely unregulated, Chief,” Amanda said. “Making it easy for poachers like Grisly to offload their bounty.”
“With no accountability,” Darnell added.
“Impressive work, Darnell,” Sidney said, clapping him on the back. “How in holy hell did you root out this stuff?”
He shrugged one shoulder. Modest.
“Steely determination and long hours,” Amanda said with an admiring gaze.
“I really want to bust these bastards,” Darnel said. “Grisly got his due. Now we have proof that Sander and Lancer worked with him.” He shot her a smile, fatigue etched on his face, but his smile faded when he saw Sidney’s tightened jaw. She gestured with one hand. “Take a seat, Amanda. I need to update you two on the postmortem results.” Sidney expediently walked them through the autopsy and lab reports. The expressions of the officers shifted from surprise to dismay.
“So Grisly is alive, and Lancer is dead,” Amanda said, shaking her head. “And it’s possible the wardens deliberately killed him. This case gets stranger by the day.”
“And it’s Grisly who’s out there tracking Elahan and Tegan,” Darnell said. “And the wolf.”
“Yep. After seeing what a gray wolf brings in, I can imagine what a rare white wolf of that size would garner. Hopefully, Grisly will be brought in without anyone getting hurt. In the meantime, we have more than enough probable cause to get an arrest warrant for Sander. Amanda, see if he’ll come in voluntarily. Play it cool. As far as he knows, we just want to go over the details of Grisly’s death. He doesn’t know we did an autopsy.” Sidney knew it was best to have a junior officer contact him. A request directly from the police chief might arouse his suspicion.
“So, he thinks we just swallowed his story. Why would he pretend it was Grisly he killed?”
“He wants us to think he didn’t know Grisly. Couldn’t tell him from Mr. Magoo.
Distance himself from the poaching business.”
“I won’t trust him until he’s cuffed,” Amanda said. “Unconscious would be better.”
Sidney felt a burn in her stomach. Her officers were wary of Sander with good reason. The warden was cunning and malicious, and a great actor. He hid his true character behind his badge and a display of loyalty to his job. She had been blind-sided. “Call him. If he doesn’t respond, we’ll go pick him up.” Sidney turned her attention to the mountain of paperwork waiting to be processed. “I’ll be in my office.”
Sidney sank
into the swivel chair behind her desk and tried to organize her thoughts. Her department was too understaffed to deal with these kinds of complicated cases. She and her officers were being forced to pull their attention away from their daily patrols and everyday problems. Their visible presence on the streets discouraged crime and gave citizens peace of mind. Fortunately, nothing of consequence had erupted in their two-day absence.
She called Judge Rosenstadt, requesting an arrest warrant and a search warrant. Then she buzzed Winnie and instructed her to pick them up. Sidney disconnected and her phone buzzed immediately. It was David. “Hey, David.”
“Good morning, Sunshine.” His cheerful voice momentarily transported her to the world beyond the station where folks went to jobs every day that didn’t put their lives at risk.
“Sleep well?” he asked.
Despite the stress, she felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach. “Like a baby. Thanks to you. You have a way...” her voice drifted softly away.
“So do you, babe,” he murmured. “So do you.” A moment of silence brought warm memories to the surface.
“So, what’s up?” she said in her professional tone, breaking the spell.
David’s tone also returned to normal, edged with a touch of excitement. “I got a response from one of my contacts. He knew exactly where that key and medallion came from. They were stolen from the estate of a collector in Sweetwater two years ago. Vincent Schuman. They’re valued at over a hundred-thousand dollars.”
Sidney whistled. “That’s some serious motive for murder.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Thank you, David,” Sidney said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“Gotta go, huh?”
“Yep.”
“You free tonight?”
“Maybe. I’ll call you later.”
A fleeting moment of intimacy hung between them before Sidney disconnected. She turned her attention to her paperwork until Amanda entered her office a half hour later with the warrants in hand.
“Did you reach Sander?” Sidney asked.
“Nope. Darnell got the approximate position of his phone’s GPS. He’s at home, off Anderson Quarry road. It’s in our jurisdiction.”