by C. M. Sutter
I cleared my throat. “Dr. Torres, this is FBI Agent Jade Monroe speaking. Is there any way to identify the type of knife used?”
“Yes, ma’am, to a degree. The depth and width of the wounds tells me the knife was large, yet there weren’t any knives missing from the knife blocks at either house. I’m certain he brought the weapon with him and used it in both murders. That said, I’d guess it to be a type of bowie knife—long, wide, and sturdy.”
I took a drink of water then jotted down Dr. Torres’s findings.
“J.T. Harper here, sir. I’m curious about the throat wounds found in both women yet none in Mr. King. Could that be representative of something?”
“It’s very possible. Like I said before, knife wounds are personal. Either this killer had something against both women, he’s a misogynist, or he’s transferring his rage for a particular woman to these ladies.”
Hardy ground his fingertips into his temples. “Okay, Doc, thanks. That’s a lot to digest. You’ve already signed off on Sarah’s identification, correct?”
“Yes, her folks were here earlier and are very disappointed they can’t make funeral arrangements yet. I don’t think they understood the way murder investigations work.”
Hardy sighed. “Unfortunately the bodies stay put, at least until we have some bona fide leads.”
The call ended, and we dug in once more.
“We need to come up with a connection between Chad Nolan and both families. Any mutual friends, associates, or clubs they all belonged to? Did he owe money to either family? How about his wife? Did anyone check into her?” I looked from person to person.
“There is a wife, but she hasn’t been interviewed yet.”
Captain Hardy groaned. “Lyles and Franklin, go pick her up. If something weird is going on, I don’t want to give them time to come up with matching alibis. We’ll deal with Chad again after we talk to her.”
Andrews returned to the conference room with Hardy’s laptop tucked under his arm. “Stan said the photos should be in your in-box by the time you log in.”
“Good. Let’s see if anything at either home raises suspicion. We’ll check the phone log at the King house first. What about Sarah’s phone?”
“That was checked and cleared,” Dixon said. “No unknown callers.”
“All right, let’s take a look.” Hardy opened the email attachment where the photos were separated into files. A folder of pictures was marked Sarah Cummings, and the other folder was marked Bob and Gloria King. Hardy opened the King folder first and scrolled through the thumbnail-sized photos.
“There”—I pointed—“that looks like a telephone call log.”
Hardy clicked on the picture and enlarged it to fit the screen. “Okay, it looks like the Kings had four incoming calls on Wednesday with the last one at six o’clock.”
I wrote down the phone number on my sheet of paper. “Can Tech pull up this number right away?”
Hardy dialed the tech department from the conference room phone and covered the receiver for a second. “They can unless it’s a burner phone. Hey, Leon, it’s Hardy. We need you to put a rush on this phone number. Yeah, are you ready?” Hardy read off the phone number to Leon Tripp, the tech department lead, and told him to call the conference room the second he had something. “Okay, what’s next?” Hardy glanced at the wall clock. “In one hour I’m cutting everyone loose. Nobody is any good if they’re exhausted. We’ll resume with fresh eyes in the morning.” The phone on the table against the wall rang. It was Lyles. Hardy pushed the speakerphone button. “What have you got, Lyles?”
“Mrs. Nolan, that’s what.”
“Take her to box one and make sure you tape the interview. We’re waiting for information from the tech department right now.” Hardy hung up.
J.T. stood. “Anyone up for coffee? I need to call SSA Spelling, anyway, and update him.”
The nodding heads told me a full pot was in order. “I’ll go along and start a twelve-cupper.” I joined J.T. in the cafeteria and started the coffee while he spoke to Spelling. I pulled out my notepad from my pants pocket and began creating a list of things to follow up on. Women stabbed in the neck, both homes for sale from the same realty company, no known connection between victims, and Chad Nolan.
J.T. looked over my shoulder. “What are you doing?”
I sighed. “Trying to figure this out.”
“Do you mind?” J.T. reached for my notepad and read what I had written down. “The part about the women being stabbed in the neck sticks in my craw, pardon the pun. Find the woman hater and we might have our killer.”
“Maybe Chad Nolan’s wife can shed some light. What if they don’t get along, he’s sick of playing nice to homeowners, hates his job, is having a midlife crisis, or just snapped?”
“Let’s drop off the coffee and check in on her interview.”
J.T. and I returned to the conference room. I carried a cup of coffee in each hand, and J.T. carried the carafe, a stack of cardboard coffee cups, and a pocketful of powdered creamer and sugar packets.
“Anything from Tech?” I looked at Hardy as we entered the room and dropped off the coffee fixings.
“No luck. It’s a burner phone. The only thing we can document is the time the call came in—6:07 p.m. last night.”
Chapter 17
After a few sips of my coffee, I took a seat, inhaled a deep breath, and focused on the interview Lyles and Franklin were conducting with Kayla Nolan. J.T. turned the intercom’s volume knob to the right. I placed my cup on the ledge of the one-way window and pulled out my notepad.
“The interview is being taped, Jade.”
“I know, but I want to go over all of my notes back in the hotel room later. Do we even have hotel rooms booked?”
“I don’t think so, but I’ll Google to see what’s in the area with decent ratings. If I’m lucky, I’ll find something we can walk to.”
I crossed my right leg over my left and rested my notepad on my lap. Kayla Nolan looked to be in her late thirties and a little rough around the edges. My opinion of her likely came from the overly processed, platinum-blond hair and thick black eyeliner. We listened as the interview continued.
“How well do you and your husband get along, Mrs. Nolan?” Franklin asked.
“Wow, you don’t mince words, do you, officer?”
“It’s Sergeant Franklin, ma’am, and no, we don’t have the time or the inclination to beat around the bush.”
“What did Chad do now?”
“As opposed to what?”
She snapped her gum and went silent.
“How long have you been married?” Lyles asked.
“Seven years.”
“Kids?”
“Three under six.”
“Three? That has to get hectic,” Paul said. “I’d go bonkers.”
She smirked. “He does every day. Only the oldest kid is in school. Chad is always yelling at the other two.” She caught herself and gave Franklin a suspicious look. “What is this about, anyway?”
“Is Chad away from the house a lot?”
“Duh, he has a job. What do you think?”
Don caught up with his notes. “Is he away more than he has to be, possibly?”
“I don’t pay attention. I’m too busy with the kids.”
“Where was he last night between six o’clock and seven thirty?”
She shrugged. “Not at home. I’d imagine showing a house, at least that’s what he always says he’s doing.”
“So no problems on the home front? Nobody is stepping out?”
“I can only speak for myself, officer, and I don’t have time for that nonsense.”
“It’s Sergeant—”
“Yeah, I know. Is there anything else?”
“Not at the moment. Where is Chad now?”
She stared at Franklin and blew a bubble with her gum. It snapped, and she stretched it between her pinched fingers then popped it back into her mouth. “I’m not his keeper.” She st
ood, and Lyles walked her out.
I shook my head. “Wow, she covers her husband’s ass pretty well.”
“Yeah, but we can work around her avoidance in answering their questions. We’ll check every house that’s listed with Scenic View Realty and see if any had showings last night with Chad Nolan between six and seven o’clock.”
J.T. and I returned to the conference room, where everyone was packing it up for the night. Hardy jerked his head toward us. “Call it a night, guys. We’re all beat and heading home. Let’s reconvene at eight a.m. Cracking this case will be a challenge with the lack of leads or evidence to go on.”
J.T. let out a long yawn. “It’ll get done. We’ll make sure of it. Anyway, Kayla Nolan didn’t give up her husband, but we’ll follow up on Chad’s whereabouts from last night when we get here tomorrow morning. The realty office is already closed for the night. Kayla thought he was showing a house, but that’s easy enough to check out on their schedule of showings.”
“Good enough. Good night, agents.”
“Good night, Cap.” I grabbed my purse and folder of notes and followed J.T. outside. “Did you find a hotel we can walk to?”
“Nah, the downtown ones are all full. There’s a sports event going on. We’ll have to drive, but I booked the Element Omaha Midtown Crossing. It isn’t far away, and there are a number of restaurants within walking distance of it.”
I let out a tired sigh. “I won’t complain. A cold beer, hot shower, and a soft bed is all I need.”
“No food?”
“Oh yeah, and food.”
I called out the directions as J.T. drove. The hotel was less than ten minutes away via Douglas Street.
“Can we stop at that gas station for a minute?” I pointed at the QuikFuel station on the next block.
“Sure, what do you need?”
I felt my face blush before I stammered that the lottery was pretty high. I wanted to buy a ticket.
J.T. laughed. “I guess I should have known you were the gambling type. Hell, you gamble with your life nearly every day. It must be in your DNA.” He pulled into the gas station, tucked the SUV alongside the air pump, and killed the engine.
I stepped out and tipped my head back in the door. “Want a ticket?”
“Sure, why not. Between the both of us, it might be our lucky day.”
Inside, I waited in line at the gas station’s counter. Two people stood ahead of me. The man prepaying for his gas seemed impatient and fumbled with his wallet. He kept looking out the window. The woman behind him held a box of doughnuts and two candy bars. I realized as I stared at her goodies that I was hungrier than I had thought. When I reached the counter to buy the lottery tickets, a plastic card lying on the floor caught my attention. I knelt and picked it up, and it belonged to the man who had been fumbling with his wallet. “Oh dear, that man dropped his license. Which pump is he at?”
The clerk reached for the license. “I’ll take it.”
“I don’t think so.” I jiggled my badge that hung from the lanyard around my neck and held it in front of the sketchy looking character. He pulled back his hand and told me the man’s pump number. With the lottery tickets tucked away in my purse, I walked out and headed for pump number seven. The man had just finished filling up his clunker and had placed the gas hose back on the pump.
“Excuse me, sir.” I held up his license and waved it to get his attention. “You dropped this on the floor when you were paying for your gas.”
A quick frown crossed his brow as he stared at me with bright blue, suspicious looking eyes. “You could get valuable information off of someone’s driver’s license. What’s your angle, lady? Want a reward or something?”
I chuckled. “Hardly. Maybe it’s because I’m an FBI agent. Anyway, here you go. Try to be more careful next time.”
“FBI, huh? Working on some high-profile case, are ya?”
“Well, I hope it doesn’t lead to that, but anyway, have a nice night.” I handed him his license and my card. “Here you go, just in case you ever need our help.” I turned and headed to the Explorer. Through the passenger side window, I saw J.T. laughing as I got closer. “What’s your problem?” I climbed in and closed the door then pulled the seat belt over my chest and snapped it.
“Trying to pick up a date? I thought you’d at least go after someone with a high-performance sports car instead of that rust bucket.”
“You’re funnier than you look, smart-ass. The man dropped his driver’s license near the counter. Luckily it was me that found it, you know, the honest FBI agent, rather than some random criminal with bad intentions.”
“So you didn’t make a date? Did you at least get his name in case you reconsider?”
I slugged J.T. in the arm. “Very funny and no, I didn’t make a date. He seemed kind of sketchy, but he did have pretty eyes.” I played along with J.T.’s foolishness.
“And pray tell, Agent Monroe, what do you consider pretty eyes?”
“You know, big and blue, but he wasn’t my type. He looked sort of ragged.”
“You didn’t even ask his name in case you change your mind later?”
“No, but I did glance at it on his license. His name is Ed Tanner.”
“Ed Tanner, huh? You don’t look like an Ed type of gal.”
“Whatever, dork. Can we get to the hotel now and check in? I’m starving.”
“You’ve decided you’re hungry after all?”
“Yeah, blame it on the woman in line ahead of me. She had two candy bars and a box of doughnuts in her hand. Come to think of it, I should have bought a candy bar. I’m Jonesing for chocolate.”
J.T. smirked as he turned right out of the gas station. “Then we better make sure you have dessert.”
Chapter 18
Ed pounded the steering wheel with his fists.
Son of a bitch, that was a careless mistake. Now that FBI woman knows my name, that is, if she actually looked at anything other than my picture.
He watched until the SUV she had climbed into drove away to make sure they weren’t going in the same direction he was. The person behind the wheel clicked the blinker and pulled out into traffic.
Good, they turned right.
Ed took a deep breath to clear his head, started the truck, and shifted into first gear. He craned his neck over his right shoulder. Jackie’s body, wrapped in a heavy tarp, lay in the bed of the truck just five feet behind him. With a deep groan, he pulled out of the gas station and turned left.
Now I have to come up with a plan B. I can’t dump this body where I stashed her car. If anyone gives a description of my truck near any of the crime scenes, it will ring a bell with that damn FBI agent.
Making sure to drive the speed limit and come to a complete stop at every stop sign, Ed drove north until he was out of the city limits. He knew the perfect place to dump Jackie where she would never be found. Her car would be located sooner or later, but there was no way it could be tied to the knife-wielding killer at large.
Ed took that thirty-minute drive to a rural area he remembered going to as a child. Once a month, on a lazy Sunday afternoon, his father would take him fishing to that little-known lake. It was a time in his life he always cherished and the most enjoyable thing he remembered doing with his dad. Years had passed since he was there last, but if the area looked anything like he remembered, it would be the perfect place to dispose of Jackie’s body.
He turned left on Cypress Creek Drive and continued on for two miles then turned right on Yocum Street. Ed clicked on his high beams to avoid debris and potholes in the barely maintained roadway. The dark night and absence of street lights made it nearly impossible to find the dirt lane that led to the lake. He slowed to a crawl. He felt he was close.
There it is.
Ed stopped the truck, shifted in reverse, and backed up twenty feet. He leaned to his right, rolled down the passenger side window, and peered out. Although somewhat overgrown, the one-lane gravel path was definitely the one that led
to the lake.
Good, nobody has messed with the area. It looks the same as it did years ago. It’s time to get comfortable in your new home, Jackie. I’m sure the animals will enjoy your company.
Ed turned the wheel to the right and began the half-mile-long drive down memory lane. It ended, if his recollection was correct, at a wider area where several vehicles could park. Even with the car’s high beams on, the path was dark, overgrown, and eerie. He’d park, pull her out of the back, and drag her into the thick brush that surrounded the lake. She’d never be found. With a pair of gloves and a flashlight always stashed under the driver’s seat, Ed was good to go. Finally at the end of the road, he turned the truck around so it faced outward. He killed the engine and climbed out. The squeaky door creaked when he opened it, sending the nocturnal animals into high alert. The woods came alive with their calls sending shivers up Ed’s spine.
Hurry up and get the hell out of here.
Ed reached the back of the truck and opened the tailgate. He felt the shape of her feet under the tarp and gave them a tug. She slid across the truck bed without resistance as he pulled, then a dull thud sounded when her body hit the ground.