Coming of Winter

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Coming of Winter Page 21

by Tom Threadgill


  Jeremy shook his head. “I did. I don’t know. Could be I’m an adrenaline junkie, and I’ll be bored to death when I leave. But chasing insurance scammers? Not for me.”

  “Heh. Try sitting by a state road for hours, hoping a speeder comes by just so you have something to do.”

  “Apply to the Bureau, Troy. Put me down as a recommendation.”

  “You serious?”

  “I am. Looked over your resume and sent it in. I might have already mentioned your name to my boss, in fact.”

  Troy drummed his fingers on the table. “Can’t say I haven’t thought about it.”

  “No guarantees, but I’ll do what I can for you. Not sure if that’ll help or hurt, though.”

  “I’ll look into it. I mean, if it gets me—”

  Little Rock’s Special Agent in Charge walked into the room, a sheet of paper in hand. “Results are in.”

  Troy licked his lips and exhaled. “And?”

  “Not the boy.”

  Jeremy frowned and nodded. “Hundred percent certainty?”

  “According to the machine, yes. Sample was clean. No contamination. When the TBI gets their official results back, they’ll say the same thing.”

  “Well,” Troy said, “I’ll make the call and give them a heads-up. The Palmers will want to know.”

  “If it’s not the boy, who is it?” Jeremy asked.

  The agent traced his finger down the paper. “Ran it through the database. Missing girl out of Indiana. Sarah ... here it is. Sarah Goldman.”

  Troy spun around, his mouth and eyes open as far as they’d stretch.

  Jeremy tried to speak, but no words came out for several heartbeats. “Sarah Goldman? French Lick, Indiana?”

  “Um, yeah. How’d you know that?”

  “Let’s go, Troy. We need to get back to Memphis. And I’m driving.”

  .......

  Jeremy pressed the phone against his ear, dodged another eighteen-wheeler, and shot a blast of air through his nostrils. “Yes sir, I understand. But doesn’t it seem a bit too coincidental? Sarah Goldman’s body found in the same area as the Lanny Palmer disappearance?”

  Director Bailey sighed. “The girl’s killer is already sitting on death row, remember?”

  “Assuming he’s guilty.”

  “The jury certainly did. That’s good enough.”

  “He wouldn’t be the first innocent person convicted of a crime. And if he didn’t kill Sarah Goldman, this is the first real break in the case, and it’s ours now. Body transported across state lines and dumped conveniently close to the site of a missing boy. Could it be coincidence? Sure. But if it’s not, sir, do you want to risk letting a killer get away?”

  “Of course not, but I’m still not assigning anyone else to this. There’s already a task force from the TBI and local PDs looking for the kid, right? What’s the point of throwing more people in the same area? If they find something else, we’ll go from there. If not, well, maybe this gives some closure to the girl’s parents.”

  Jeremy massaged his forehead. “Sir, this isn’t merely a bone. Someone went to a lot of trouble to preserve it. Sealed it in plastic. Why do that if you’re just going to dump it in the woods somewhere? It doesn’t make sense.”

  Bailey exhaled. “I’ll hold off on your retirement paperwork for another few days. Get me more to work with, then we’ll talk. End of discussion. Got it?”

  Jeremy clenched his teeth. “Understood. Oh, and sir, did you get that resume I sent? Troy Obion?”

  The sound of papers shuffling filtered through the phone. “Yeah, I got it. No promises and no favors, but I’ll look it over. He meet the qualifiers?”

  Jeremy glanced at Troy. “Yes. College graduate, no problem passing the physical requirements, and nothing in his background as far as I know.”

  Troy shook his head and pointed to a slow-moving U-Haul in the left lane.

  “Okay,” Bailey said. “I think the online application period’s open for the next three or four weeks. If he’s serious, tell him to start there. We’ll see what happens after that, but again, no promises. I’m not pulling any strings here. Either he gets in on his own merits or he doesn’t.”

  Jeremy swerved around the rental truck. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, sir.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  Troy stretched, yawned loudly, and took a sip from his Dr Pepper. Jeremy leaned back in his office chair and resisted the urge to finish off his fifth cup of coffee. “You doing okay there?”

  “Not enough sleep, and the adrenaline rush from your Nascar slalom back from Little Rock is wearing off. I’ll live, though. At least as long as I get to drive from now on. You do know I-40’s a major interstate, don’t you? The shoulder’s not a passing lane.”

  “Yeah, but in that monster Jeep of yours, I’m not sure it makes much difference. And I’d say you drive like an old woman if that wasn’t such an insult to old women everywhere. Cut almost twenty minutes off your time, I believe. Of course, young as you are, I figure you’re still using your learner’s permit, right?”

  Troy rolled his eyes and grinned. “Mandatory driver retesting every six months once you reach your age. That’s what I think.”

  “Well, I guess when you get old enough to vote you can have a say in it.”

  “Har har. So what’s our plan?”

  Jeremy tapped his finger on the desk. “Our plan? Nothing’s changed. You’re needed most on the Palmer case. Help them locate the boy, and when you do, if there’s a connection to Sarah Goldman, we’ll find it. In the meantime, I’ll head out to where they found the jawbone. See if anything there stirs up new ideas.”

  “You do think the cases are related though, right?”

  “No doubt in my mind. And if they are, then something happened to spook this guy. The Palmer boy’s disappearance doesn’t match his MO. Presumably taken off a public road while waiting for the school bus. That’s risky. Not like grabbing someone hiking alone in a thousand-acre state park. He wouldn’t bring this attention on himself unless he had no choice.”

  “He panicked.”

  Jeremy leaned forward. “Maybe. But why the Palmer kid? Did he see something? Know something? He’s the key. Figure that out, and you’ll find whoever took him.”

  “They’re trying. The TBI won’t say whether they think there’s a connection between the jawbone and Lanny, but they have to at least suspect there is. For now, though, they’re keeping the discovery secret. Need-to-know basis only.”

  “Makes sense. Nothing to be gained by making the info public. I assume they’ll search the area where the bone was found?”

  “That’s the plan. Cadets from law enforcement around the state are coming in today. They’ve had so many locals helping they’re afraid somebody’s going to trample some evidence. Good luck getting them to stay away, though.”

  “You going out with them?”

  Troy frowned. “Don’t think so. Planning to talk to a few people who knew Lanny. A couple of kids from his school seemed a little iffy. Maybe speak with his basketball coach and his boss at the Dairy Queen. Honestly, though, nothing that promises to be very helpful. They’ve all been interviewed before.”

  “The TBI ask you to do that?”

  “Course not. They don’t even want the local PD too involved in their interviews, much less one from out of state. Muddies the water too much, they said. Still, a man’s got to eat, right? And if I happen to be around the DQ when I’m hungry, or the high school when classes let out ...”

  Jeremy chuckled and shook his head. “Follow your instinct. You never know. Oh, and get your application in to the Bureau as soon as you can. If you’re still interested, that is.”

  Troy couldn’t hide his grin. “Definitely interested. Got to do my part before they start issuing walkers to you guys. Do they at least let you pick the color of tennis balls on those things?”

  “Sure, as long as you requisition them six months in advance. Otherwise, you take what you can get. Pink b
alls or whatever.”

  Troy nearly spit his soda across the room. “Oh, man. I can’t believe you said that.”

  Jeremy laughed and threw a stack of post-it notes at him. “Idiot. Get out of here before this old man teaches you a thing or two about respecting your elders.”

  The policeman stood at attention and saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  “Hey, Troy. Good luck today. Be nice to get a little good news for a change.”

  “Yeah, it would. We’re due, right?”

  Due? He used to think that way. In the end, it all evens out. Might be true for some, but not in this job. There’s always another killer. Always. And no matter how many people were slaughtered, no matter how many grieving family and friends were affected, there was only the killer. No balancing of the scales.

  Jeremy forced a smile. “Yeah, Troy. We’re due.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  Mason huddled over the upstairs workbench in the old barn and inspected the timeworn pliers. Most of the rust was gone, but they’d need another night in the vinegar bath. After that, a dab of oil would keep them shiny and protected. Grandpa would be proud. His made-in-America Craftsman tools were still going strong. Good old USA steel forged into a—

  The thunk of a closing car door echoed through the building. He edged to the barn entrance and cracked it open. A stranger stood beside a bright red Jeep Wrangler, its hard top removed. Oversize tires, winch on the front bumper, chassis sitting high off the ground. The boys could have some fun in that thing.

  The visitor scanned his surroundings and headed for the house, pausing to look over the pumpkin patch before climbing the steps to the porch and knocking on the screen door. After a moment, Paula answered and the two shook hands. The stranger pulled something from his pocket and showed it to Paula. She smiled, nodded, and motioned him inside. The law.

  Mason scooted back to the workbench and reviewed his options. He chose a large crescent wrench, feeling its heft before sliding it into his back pocket, then smeared a bit of grease on his hands, picked up a dirty rag, and headed for the house.

  The two were in the kitchen when Mason arrived, the stranger seated at the table while Paula poured some coffee. Both looked up and smiled when he walked into the room.

  “Honey,” Paula said, “this is Officer Obion. He’s down from, I’m sorry, was it Kentucky?”

  Troy stood and extended a hand to Mason. “No, ma’am. Indiana.”

  Mason wiped his hands with the rag before clasping Troy’s hand. “Out working on the equipment. Always something to fix around here, and the day’s not done unless I get my hands dirty.”

  “I understand completely. I’ve got an uncle in Iowa who used to farm. I remember spending a few summers there when I was a kid. Hard work.”

  Mason nodded. “Used to farm?”

  “Yes, sir. Ended up selling the place off several years back. Made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, as they say.”

  “Uh-huh. I suppose to some people money might be more import—”

  “Mason, dear, would you like some coffee?” Paula held up the pot, her plastered smile belying the look in her eyes.

  “Sweet tea, please. Now then, Officer, what brings you out this way? You helping hunt for that missing boy?”

  “Cream or sugar?” Paula asked as she placed the coffee on the table.

  “Black is fine,” Troy said as he sat back down. “Yes, Mr. Miller. I’m here as a volunteer, assisting the TBI in the investigation.”

  Mason took a seat across from the officer. “Lots of folks helping out. Wouldn’t expect nothing less around these parts. Wish I had the time to join them, but between the farm and the corn maze, I’ve got my hands full.”

  Troy nodded. “Your Halloween events are why I’m here. I stopped by the Dairy Queen to speak with Lanny’s boss, and he told me the boy worked here also.”

  “Of course. We already told another officer the whole story. Lanny worked out in the corn maze. Had to let him go, though. Got a little rude with some of our customers. Can’t have that. We run a family business and expect folks to show respect to each other.”

  “Sure. Got all that info in the notes from the earlier visit. Never hurts to get a second set of eyes on stuff, though.”

  Paula leaned against the stove. “Maybe Lanny up and ran away. Seems to me that’s the most likely situation. All this talk about kidnapping, well, things like that just don’t happen around here.”

  Mason grunted. “Don’t be ridiculous, Paula. That stuff happens everywhere. We’ve been lucky, that’s all. But how do you know he didn’t run away?”

  Troy shrugged. “We don’t. Could’ve, but doesn’t seem likely. Most of the time when kids his age run away, there are signs. Broke up with his girlfriend, problems with parents, drug abuse. None of the indications are there. At least with what we know so far.”

  Mason sipped his tea. “How can we help?”

  Troy pulled a notepad from his shirt pocket and clicked a pen. “I was hoping you could give me more information on what happened that caused Lanny to get fired.”

  “If you gentlemen don’t mind,” Paula said, “I’ve got some laundry to do.”

  “Certainly,” Troy said. “Thank you for the coffee, ma’am.”

  “My pleasure.” She nodded toward her husband. “Just don’t get him started on any of his farming stories. How his grandpa did this and his father did that. You’ll be here till Christmas.”

  Troy smiled at her and turned his focus back to Mason. “Now then, sir. If you could walk me through the night you fired Lanny?”

  “Sure. He was working out in the maze. Got a dozen or so kids who dress up as zombies and wander through to, you know, spook things up. Make it a little scarier. Course, we don’t do that when the little kids are out there. Not until after dark when it’s mostly teenagers.”

  Troy scribbled a note. “How long had Lanny worked here?”

  “It was actually the first night we were open. He was here last year too, helping out down with the pumpkins. This was his first year to be in the maze.”

  “Uh-huh. Any problems with the other kids working out there?”

  “None that I know of. It’s a small town, and they all go to the same school. I imagine if there were any serious problems, somebody would’ve heard about it.”

  “Gotcha. Now, exactly what did Lanny do that caused you to fire him?”

  “We tell our workers not to touch anyone. Scaring them’s fine, but don’t get too close. Even showed them some YouTube videos of workers at haunted houses getting punched by customers. Folks get scared, you don’t know how they’ll react. It’s best for everybody to keep their distance.”

  “And I take it Lanny broke that rule?”

  “He did. Group of four or five girls around his age came through his area. Near as I could figure, he jumped out behind them and scared them pretty good. They screamed and he started chasing them. One of the girls fell and he grabbed her arm. She kicked him hard and he backed off. When the girls came out of the maze, they told me what happened. Course, they were laughing about it by then, but rules are rules.”

  “And what did Lanny say about all of this?”

  “Said he was just trying to help her up. Didn’t matter, though. Look, my single largest expense for this whole deal is the insurance I pay to protect us and the folks that come through here. I don’t need that cost to go up, so when someone does something risky, I cut them loose. Not much choice.”

  “Makes sense. And how did Lanny take it when you let him go?”

  “Not good. He apologized. Said it wouldn’t happen again. I tried to explain why I couldn’t keep him on, but a boy his age just doesn’t get it sometimes. Kept talking about it not being fair, that other workers did the same thing. I told him I could only deal with the incidents I knew about. He was pretty mad.”

  “Angry enough to run away?”

  Mason shrugged. “You got any kids?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, w
hen you do, you’ll understand. Who knows what goes on in their heads? I imagine by the time he got home, he’d forgot about it. Could be wrong about that, but I don’t think so. Besides, it was almost a week later when he disappeared. Don’t think he’d stew on it that long and then decide to up and leave, you know?”

  “Uh-huh. Did you see him again after that night?”

  Mason scrunched his forehead. “Not that I recall. I mean, it’s possible, but I don’t think so. We get an awful lot of folks out here, especially on weekends. And it’s not like he was banned or anything. He’s a good kid. Made a mistake, that’s all. I reckon as how we’ll hire him back on next year if he wants. That is, well ...”

  “Sure. Would it be okay if I took a look at the maze? Get an idea of where he worked?”

  “If you think it’ll help, of course. Can’t imagine you’ll see anything except corn and decorations, but you’re the expert, not me.”

  Troy downed the last of his coffee. “Just want to make sure we cover all our bases. I’ll need to get the names of those girls before I leave so I can follow up with them too.”

  Mason walked to the sink, dumped the remainder of his tea down the drain, and called for his wife. “Paula, we’re going out to the maze for a bit. Officer Obion wants to get a feel for it. See where Lanny worked.”

  “Of course. Can I fix you a Thermos of coffee to carry with you, Officer? It’s quite chilly out there this morning.”

  Troy stood and shoved his chair back under the table. “That’s very kind, ma’am, but I’ll be fine.”

  She smiled and flicked the switch on the coffee pot. “It was very nice to meet you. If there’s anything we can do to help, you let us know. We’re all tore up about the boy.”

  Mason nodded and motioned toward the back door. “Hope you wore your walking shoes today.”

  Troy patted his stomach. “I could use the exercise. Already had a Blizzard for breakfast.”

  “Honey,” Paula said, “put on a heavier coat. Wear some gloves too. Don’t need you catching a cold.”

  “I’ll be fine. Keep your phone close in case we need anything.” He followed Troy out the door and down the steps into the yard that opened onto their land. The sun had warmed the ground enough to send up tendrils of steamy heat waves, and the slow breeze struggled to blow ripples through the corn. In the distance, the cattle were hollering to each other, most likely wondering when their hay was coming. The bucolic quiet of late morning on the farm.

 

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