by Alexa Grace
“What happened?”
“What didn’t? First of all, he recruits a search and rescue team of thirty people. About fifteen of the thirty are some of his senior parishioners who haven’t hiked a trail in forty years! The other fifteen are teenagers, ages ranging from fifteen to seventeen, who have no business being on a search team.”
“Did anything....”
Lane interrupted, “That idiot, Evan Hendricks, sent all of those people onto the trails, rugged or not, without any of the basic search tools like flashlights, walkie-talkies, maps, water, just to name a few. No one knows which searchers have cell phones, not that they’re going to be that helpful because there are widespread areas of the park where there’s no reception.
“Someone called nine-one-one because Emma Jo Smith, who is eighty-freaking-years-old, slipped and rolled down a hill near Inspiration Point, landing on a tree root and breaking her hip. Emma Jo weighs over 200 pounds. The EMTs had a helluva time getting her out of the park to the ambulance in the parking lot. Once they got to the hospital, her son, Jack, arrived, exploded and threatened to kick the reverend’s ass, or at the least sue him.”
Jennifer had never seen Lane so angry. Most of the diners in the cafe seemed focused on him. She placed her hand on Lane’s, “You might want to lower your voice; people can hear you.”
Lane ignored her and continued, “The organizer of this mess, Evan Hendricks is out somewhere in the park and no one can locate him. There’s no command post. Even if there was a command post, none of the searchers have walkie-talkies to communicate back to the post anyway.
Brianna arrived with Lane’s breakfast. “I’m sorry, but would you please put that in a to-go box,” Lane asked. I’ll have to take it with me.”
“No problem,” she said.
Lane drained his mug of coffee. Shaking his head with disgust, he said, “I can’t believe that no one took into consideration that overtired, hungry or physically exhausted search volunteers are not only liable to miss important clues, but they could also endanger themselves or other volunteers if they are too tired to continue searching, or find themselves alone and unable to get back or call for help.”
“Unbelievable,” Blake said as he shook his head.
“There’s no way to keep track of anyone, so the six deputies I sent out there will probably still be out there looking until tomorrow morning for searchers who haven’t returned to their cars. Keep in mind, these six deputies could be out searching for the missing girl, Tiffany Chase.
“What bothers me the most is that no one bothered to contact law enforcement, because if they had, we would have told them that we’d already searched that park with a fine-tooth comb. This whole thing is so fucking needless.” With that, he slapped a twenty on the table, grabbed the box of food from Brianna, and left.
Jennifer and Blake worked in their respective offices the rest of the morning and periodically checked the break room television for news about the search effort calamity.
Scanning Evan Hendricks’ bank records on her computer screen, Jennifer noticed that on the day that Catherine disappeared, Evan had used his VISA to pay for a delivery of flowers. She made a note to contact the florist to find out to whom he sent flowers. The rest of the purchases made through VISA or his back account were innocuous actions like buying groceries or gas for his car. Nothing else stood out as suspicious for the entire week of Catherine’s disappearance.
On the day Tiffany went missing, Evan had used his cell phone to make five calls to Tiffany. He couldn’t have been very happy that his calls to his fiancé went unanswered. Later that afternoon, Evan made a call to Allison Wade, and then no calls were made the rest of the evening. So Evan’s alibi was still unsubstantiated.
On the day of Tiffany’s disappearance, the cell tower report revealed that most of Evan’s cell phone calls were made in the vicinity of his church. There were two exceptions. One was a call he made to Allison Wade, which pinged the cell tower closest to his home, five miles away from the church. The other was a call made at eleven o’clock that night to Tiffany; the closest cell tower pinged was the one near Rocky Cliff State Park. “Bingo,” Jennifer whispered as she leaped from her chair to tell Blake.
Blake, holding his cell to his ear, glanced up to see Jennifer and winked when he caught her eye. He finished his call and said, “You look as if you’ve discovered something.”
“You could say that. Evan Hendricks made a call on his cell phone at eleven o’clock the night Tiffany disappeared. The cell tower pinged was the one near Rocky Cliff State Park.”
“What a coincidence,” Blake muttered sarcastically. “Didn’t the good reverend say he was at home all night reading his Bible?”
Blake’s office phone rang. It was Lane. Blake tapped the speaker button.
“A hiker with a dog just found Tiffany’s body in Shawnee Canyon on trail number eight in Rocky Cliff State Park. It’s still a fucking mess out here. The rain hasn’t stopped and there are five searchers unaccounted for. Don’t come out here without proper gear and dress. I’m setting up a command post. Stop there first for walkie-talkies and other supplies you may need.” Lane ended the call and Blake slammed the receiver down.
“Jennifer, I need to go to my condo first for my hiking gear, then we’ll hit your house before we go to the park.”
“No need,” Jennifer said. “I put my gear in your SUV the day they made us partners. I don’t like surprises.”
<><><>
Jennifer sat in the passenger seat, lacing up her hiking boots as Blake drove toward Rocky Cliff State Park. The rain slapped against the glass as the wipers struggled to keep the windshield clear. Closer to the park, there were cars pulled over to wait out the storm. Jennifer and Blake didn’t have that luxury.
Jennifer wrapped her arms around herself and thought about Tiffany Chase. She bit her lower lip and blinked to prevent the pooling tears in her eyes from falling. If only they could have found her sooner.
Blake pulled into the park and flashed his badge at the deputy and conservation officer at the gate house.
“Blake Stone? Sgt. Hansen wants you to stop at the command post before you go to the crime scene. We set up at the picnic shelter near the trail entrance.” The deputy pointed to far end of the parking lot where emergency vehicle flashing lights could be seen through the curtain of rain.
Blake parked the SUV. Jennifer threw on her yellow slicker along with her backpack filled with supplies, and jumped out of the vehicle. Rain hammered against her face as she buttoned up the front of the slicker and pulled up its hood to cover her head. She felt Blake walking next to her as she pushed against the wind toward the picnic shelter.
They found Lane giving instructions to a small group of deputies. When he saw Blake and Jennifer, he broke away. “The park service loaned us a couple of ATVs. They’re over there.” Lane pulled out a map of the park. “I highlighted the service road that runs near Trail #8. It stops near Sugar Creek. Then you’ll have to hike the rest of the way to the crime scene, which is about a quarter of a mile away. The crime scene techs are already there and Doc Meade and his team are on their way.”
The ATVs plunged through the muddy service road as they made their way to the swinging bridge that crossed Sugar Creek. Below them was a deep canyon nestled on both sides by sandstone cliffs. Jennifer held on tight as she and Blake trekked across the swinging bridge. Each time the bridge moved, her stomach clenched tight. On the other side, they followed the trail through the wooded thicket as the rain continued to pour.
Jennifer’s mind was working overtime. How did the killer carry a body through this mess? Even if he had an ATV, he had to hike the remaining quarter mile, just like they were now. The terrain wasn’t as rough as it was along Sugar Creek, but it was no cake walk, especially if one was carrying the dead weight of a body.
Jennifer heard voices and knew they were close to the crime scene. Following the bend of the trail, they came to a clearing where she saw crime scene tech, K
aren Katz, taking photographs of the nude body of Tiffany Chase. Jennifer and Blake inched closer but stayed on the outside of the yellow tape that circled the perimeter of the crime scene.
Tiffany’s body was posed as Catherine’s had been, with her arms bent, her hands pressed into a prayer position. Jennifer felt sick and swallowed hard. Blake squeezed her hand. She dared not look at him. The thought of being surrounded by his strong arms was too tempting.
Jennifer circled the body until she could bend to clearly see Tiffany’s neck, which had the same deep grooved ligature marks and bruising as Catherine’s. Jennifer shivered, more from the visual of the killer straddling this young girl from behind as he choked the life out of her, than the chill caused by the rain that was still falling. If this was the work of Evan Hendricks, she would make him pay. That Tiffany’s body was posed as if in prayer did not escape Jennifer. Is this the youth minister’s way of communicating something about the girls?
Doc Meade arrived with two assistants. He immediately had the assistants roll Tiffany over on her side. “Damn it,” he mumbled. “That sick son of a bitch has done it again. Look at these lacerations. He tortured this poor girl, just like he did Catherine Thomas.”
<><><>
Jennifer and Blake returned to the command post to talk to Lane. He was standing next to the sheriff, deep in a conversation Jennifer could not hear. Her father’s fisted hands told her how angry he was.
“We still have two missing searchers,” Lane said as they approached. “Have no clue which trail they took so the deputies are hiking each one until they find them.”
Tim cut in, “What’s your take on the crime scene?”
Blake began with an accounting of Tiffany’s injuries, “It appears she was tortured and killed in the same manner as Catherine Thomas. There are deep ligature marks around her neck and lacerations across her buttocks and thighs. She was probably tortured before he killed her and dumped her here.”
Repulsed, Tim shook his head. “I want to review the map of Deer Run State Park to see where the service road is in respect to where we found Catherine’s body. If that’s how he abducted Tiffany and got her out of the park, I don’t doubt he’s done it before.”
“I’ll bet my next paycheck it’s close, and that there is an ATV and cart involved. Although, how could we prove it? The roads that day were as wet and muddy as they are today,” offered Lane.
Jennifer said, “Once again, this is not the primary crime scene. He did not kill Tiffany or Catherine in the parks. Where is he taking them? He has to have a house or cabin in this general vicinity between both parks.”
Lane reached for his cell phone, “I think it’s time our deputies did a house-to-house to ask questions and report anything or anyone that looks suspicious.”
<><><>
Tiffany’s autopsy the next day bore no new revelations. The cause of death was strangulation with a ligature, most likely a leather belt. Her hyoid bone was broken and there was residue of duct tape on her mouth, wrists and ankles where she had been restrained. Her body had been scrubbed with bath soap and household bleach. Like Catherine, Tiffany had been raped, and the killer had used a condom to prevent DNA analysis of his semen.
Later, as Jennifer prepared interview questions for Evan Hendricks, she got a text from Blake for her to meet him in the break room. When she entered the room, both Lane and Blake were looking at the television. On the screen was Evan Hendricks being interviewed by Grace Cohn of CSN, Crime Story Network.
“Just what we need,” Jennifer said with a sigh. Grace Cohn was a nationally known crime commenter and television host known for her outbursts and often vicious treatment of guests on her program. She often bashed efforts made by law enforcement to solve crimes.
“Mr. Hendricks, please tell us who you are in relation to the murdered girl, Tiffany Chase?” Grace Cohn asked Evan, who appeared to be sitting in his desk chair at his small office in the church.
“Ms. Cohn, Tiffany and I were engaged,” Evan began, wiping at his eyes with a tissue.
“Tears? Are you kidding me?” asked Blake as Jennifer rolled her eyes.
“Just yesterday,” Evan stated. “I organized a search to find her.”
“Yeah, Evan, let’s talk about the search from hell. I’ve got a couple of things to add to that discussion,” said Lane.
Grace Cohn let Evan get out a couple more sentences before she interrupted him. “What I want to know, Evan, is why you organized a search.”
“The local law enforcement did not appear to be giving Tiffany’s disappearance the focus it needed. She should have been found before she was murdered.”
“That son of a bitch!” exclaimed Tim as he entered the room and stood next to Jennifer.
“Let’s talk about you, Evan,” Grace Cohn began. “My producer tells me Tiffany had gone camping with another man the night she disappeared. If you were engaged to her, that must have made you pretty angry.”
Evan looked at someone adjacent to the camera with confusion, then back at the camera, “I didn’t find out until much later that Tiffany was camping with someone else.”
Cohn smirked and said, “Well, I know if I found out my fiancé was with someone else, I’d be hopping mad.”
Evan’s face visibly reddened and a muscle twitched at his jaw. “I told you I didn’t know about it until after she disappeared.”
Cohn didn’t skip a beat. “By the way, where were you the night Tiffany Chase disappeared? Maybe you can answer that question after the commercial break.”
The camera shot back to Grace Cohn. “For our viewing audience,” Cohn began. “We were unable to get anyone from the county sheriff’s office to respond to our calls. If the law enforcement agencies that are assigned the Tiffany Chase murder would please call in, we would like to hear their explanations about this investigation. Our telephone number is listed at the bottom of your screen.”
“When hell freezes over,” said Tim as he left for his office.
A commercial soon appeared and Lane turned to Jennifer and Blake, “Are you two ready to interview this prick?”
“We’re headed to his house now.”
<><><>
Wordlessly, Fred and Julie Thomas focused on Grace Cohn’s interview with Evan Hendricks until the commercial break.
“Why does that guy look so familiar?” asked Fred.
“Honey, Catherine dated Evan before she met Nicholas. Don’t you remember him coming to the house to talk to her? He was very upset that she broke up with him. He thought they were getting married.”
Fred froze. Evan Hendricks was engaged to Tiffany Chase who was abducted and murdered much like his Catherine. Until Julie had brought it up, he had not remembered Evan dating Catherine, it was so long ago. But one thing that was clear was that Evan had had a relationship with both murder victims. This was way too coincidental. How likely was it? In Fred’s mind, it was only too clear now that Evan murdered both young women. He’d made a promise to Catherine and he intended to keep it.
“Julie, I just remembered that I’m out of my heart medicine,” Fred said as calmly as he could. “Would you please run to the drug store and get the prescription refilled?”
“Sure, honey. Let me put on some lipstick and get my purse.”
He waited for her by the door that led to the garage. As she approached him with her purse slung over her shoulder, he grabbed her and kissed her hard. “I love you, Julie. Always remember that.”
As soon as Fred heard the car pull out of the driveway, he went to his bedroom closet and pulled out his rifle, Smith & Wesson pistol, and a black duffle bag. Then he pulled out his laptop to look up Evan's adddress.
Fred raced to Evan’s house. When he arrived, he noticed a news van parked in front, so he drove down the street, did a U-turn, and then parked under a huge oak tree a block away to watch the house.
<><><>
When Blake and Jennifer pulled up outside Evan Hendricks’ home, a white news van with the Crime Story Net
work logo on the side was parked outside. A man was loading up camera equipment into the back while a female reporter talked to Evan on his porch.
Blake and Jennifer waited in their SUV for the conversation to wrap up. They got out of the vehicle when they saw the reporter get into the van.
Evan spotted them walking up his sidewalk and slammed the front door in their faces. Blake pounded on the door. “Evan, open up. We need to talk to you.”
Evan flung open the door and glared at them with burning, reproachful eyes. “I know what you’re doing. You’re getting a lot of pressure to solve Tiffany’s disappearance and murder so you think you’re going to pin it on me. Well, you’re wrong!”
“Evan, we just want to talk to you. That’s all. There’s no reason for you to be so upset,” Jennifer said as she inched closer to the door.
The news van hadn’t moved and both occupants were listening to the conversation on the porch.
Jennifer didn’t see Evan’s fist until it slammed into her cheekbone, sending her stumbling backward until she fell off the porch, pounding her head painfully onto the hard ground. Starbursts appeared behind her eyelids before she blacked out.
Fred Thomas witnessed the assault, started his car, then sped past the house. He knew where they would be taking Evan Hendricks, and he wanted to be there first.
Blake grabbed Evan’s thumb, bending back his wrist until Evan screamed with pain. He then jerked Evan’s arm behind his back and dropped him to the porch floor. “Evan Hendricks, you are under arrest for assaulting a police officer. You have the right to remain silent... “
As his Miranda rights were stated, Blake shoved his knee into Evan’s back to hold him in place while he grabbed his handcuffs from his back pocket. Once he had each wrist cuffed, he jumped off the porch and helped Jennifer to her feet.
“Honey, are you okay?” Blake lifted her chin to check her injuries. A raw abrasion streaked across her cheek, her right eye was swelling shut and blood dripped from her nose.