“Hold on, Kid. We’re not jumping right in this time. Tell us what Nadia found out on him.”
Zachery went first. “Saul Larson went to university with Kent Fields and Craig Bowen. Fields and he were both up for the same job but Fields beat him out.”
“It seems everything that Larson went after, Fields actually took out from under him,” Paige added.
“Could be motive for framing Fields. He went on to the big time, while Larson is stuck behind an editor’s desk with the local paper,” I said.
“Big city, but, exactly.” Paige slipped into a chair across from me. “But here is where it gets really interesting. We had Nadia search for any suspicious deaths that were around any location where Larson lived during his life.”
“We found one,” Zachery pitched in. “It’s a neighborhood in Denver.”
Paige continued. “We figured our killer is from the local area, striking close to his home. Anyway, what started off as a shot in the dark came back with a huge payoff.”
“The man’s name was Ken Bailey.” Zachery wouldn’t be defeated. He held a hand up to Paige and smiled. She returned it.
“I’m still listening.” Jack was leaned across the table.
“It gets even better, Boss. This guy, Bailey, had a dog. Now, according to records he went missing twenty-six years ago.”
“Hmm.”
“He was found four years ago.”
“He’s alive?” I asked.
Paige carried on. “Dead. He was found in his own house.”
Zachery’s turn. “The current homeowners were doing renovations and taking down a wall. Bailey was encased inside. It’s amazing no one smelled him when it first happened, but apparently, the house sat empty for a long time. It isn’t in the best neighborhood so didn’t get too much interest. By the time it was sold, he would have dried right out.”
All I could think about was people had lived in that house with a dead body behind the wall and never even knew it.
“Any leads on the case?” Jack asked.
“None. It’s cold.”
“A cold case that just got a whole lot warmer. Get them to pull the evidence,” Jack directed.
“Already have, and they are.”
“You mentioned this Bailey guy had a dog?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot to say this. So the guy went missing, but so did the dog. The guy turns up dead, but what happened to the dog?”
“We’ve got to get more on this, and on Larson, before we move. I want unmarked cars assigned to watch his house for anything suspicious. Saul Larson used to work with his father doing drywall. He would have had no problem sealing the man up a wall,” Zachery said.
“We still need more information. Was Bailey ever charged with animal abuse?”
“No, Boss, and that explains why his death didn’t come up in our previous search.” Paige stopped walking.
“What was this guy’s cause of death?”
Zachery answered. “Conclusion was blunt force trauma. He was beaten to death. Glass, from a rum bottle, was embedded in his forehead. Investigators reviewed pictures taken when Bailey first went missing. There were broken bottles and blood trace. Everything was collected, along with DNA. Still, no match in the system.”
“Not surprising. I think we’ve already established our guy hasn’t gotten caught. Yet.”
I figured Jack added the latter word, in the hopes of instilling confidence into his team, but there were times in an investigation when I wondered how wide we had to cast the net to catch a killer.
Chapter 42
Paige and Zach were at the police station reviewing the evidence collected in regards to Ken Bailey. Jack and Brandon were paying a quick visit to Howell’s common-law wife.
Ironically, Detective McClellan, who was just an officer back then, was part of the original missing persons investigation. The initial lead on the case had died of a heart attack years back. McClellan was called in when the body was discovered four years ago. That time around, the lead was his.
Paige was asking him questions, while Zach did what he did best—speed read.
“They didn’t bring in dogs when he first went missing?” Paige asked.
“There was no way of knowing the guy was in the wall.” McClellan offered an odd smile before it fell sullen. “It was my first real crime scene and I only got to see it from the outside. There wasn’t even a body. But I knew it then, you know, just that gut feeling that tells you something is off. I didn’t have the pull to do anything about it. You know what it’s like when you’re working up the ranks.” A small shoulder shrug. “Maybe you don’t. But I was one of a few officers who went canvassing to see if anyone had seen or heard anything. I mean, it was obvious there was some type of struggle. It was revealed the guy liked to play his music loud, late at night. He also had a bad gambling habit. We thought maybe a bookie, or someone else, made good on threats and got rid of him.”
“A lot of times those types don’t try to cover things up. The hit’s made obvious.”
“What I thought, but we tried.”
“I find it interesting that this is the third person to have a gambling habit and I’m starting to wonder if it factors in.” Paige considered if it meant anything at all. Nadia couldn’t find anything to indicate that Saul Larson had gambling issues. It was quite possible that aspect was just a false commonality and that it really had no bearing on the outworking of the investigation.
“One more question, Detective. You were one of the canvasing officers the first time around. Do you remember anyone who stood out to you?”
“My memory’s good but not quite that good. We’re talking the better part of thirty years ago. If there was, though, it would be in my notes.”
Zach looked up from other investigative reports. “You didn’t note anyone. In fact, no one did.”
“Sorry that I couldn’t have been of more help. This is a strange case, though, that is for sure. Bailey mummifies in a wall for over twenty years and then is found.”
“Did he have any next of kin?” Paige asked McClellan.
Zach answered. “His cousin, Gregory Ford. Both parents were dead at the time Bailey’s body was found.”
McClellan smiled and held his hands out toward Zach. “What he said.”
“All right. Who reported him missing?” Paige asked.
“It’s in the file, Paige.” Zach smiled at her. “His work.”
“His work reported him missing? No loved ones, spouse, live-in.”
“No, even I remember that,” McClellan chimed in. “I remember thinking about how alone he was. I also remember promising myself that if I ever went missing I’d want someone I loved, not my employer, reporting it.”
“That is sad, isn’t it?” Paige had a chill run through her and she wrapped her arms around herself. “Bailey would have been twenty-nine. That’s plenty of time to set up a home, make friends, fall in love.”
“Not everyone believes in love.” A gentle smile from McClellan. “Well, if you need anything, just holler. I’ve got some paperwork I better get started on. I keep hoping it will just go away but it never does.”
“Thank you.”
Paige’s smile faded when McClellan left the room. She turned to Zach, her expression serious. “What connection would Saul Larson have to Bailey?”
Zach put down a crime scene photo he had been intently studying. “From what I see, besides sharing a neighborhood twenty-six years ago, there’s no evidence Larson and Bailey crossed paths.” He paused. “Wait a minute. Larson’s dad owned a construction company by the name of Prestigious Home Contractors. Can’t believe I didn’t tie it together until now. Bailey’s file shows he worked for Prestigious.”
“We have our connection.”
Chapter 43
I wondered why Jack had us visiting Howell’s common-law wife. Things were lining up against the editor, Saul Larson, but Jack still wanted more to solidify our case against him. I couldn’t help but think a
bout Howell’s condition though. Would we be there in time to save him? Jack, who would normally move on less, held back. Why give us a mini speech about stopping another murder if he was going to put on the brakes?
“And why aren’t we going after Larson? He’s looking good for this.” My words fell hollow inside the SUV. I stared at Jack’s profile. As usual a lit cigarette was perched between his lips.
He pulled it down and exhaled, but he didn’t answer my question.
I continued. “We know he shared a neighborhood with a murdered guy from twenty-six years ago, he worked with him, he assigned the local news stories about animal abusers.”
“He assigns all news stories, Kid. That isn’t a crime.”
Jack pulled into Howell’s driveway and my stomach tossed. This wasn’t going to be an easy visit. This would be close on scale with providing notification of kin, and in some ways worse, we had no news.
Melissa Byrd opened the front door. She had light blond hair, brown eyes, and dark eyebrows. The contrast made her eyes pop. “Come in.”
I passed a glance at Jack. We didn’t have to show our credentials and this woman openly accepted us into her home.
Jack started into the formal introduction and Melissa waved her hand.
“I know who you are, well, who you’re with. I can tell by that fancy SUV and the way you’re dressed. You’re professionals, but you’re certainly not with Denver PD.”
I found her energy hard to accept. This woman’s significant other was missing, possibly dead. She couldn’t have been immune to the news propagating around her.
“We’re sorry that your—”
“We need to ask you some questions about your husband,” Jack interrupted me.
“He was my boyfriend, really. We just lived together. He is terrified of marriage. It probably has something to do with the mess he was involved with before me. She was a needy one. Talk about not having your life in balance.” Melissa tsked as she moved throw pillows from the couches to clear a place for us to sit. “You have to make time to journal and meditate every day. That’s how you find your inner calm and can truly shine.”
I imagined that inside Jack was growling from this woman’s upbeat nature. I admired his restraint.
“Do you know this man?” Jack extended a photograph of Saul Larson that we pulled from his DMV records.
I noticed how he disregarded everything she had said.
“Oh, absolutely.” She pushed it back toward Jack. “He’s a family friend.”
This woman’s positive projection didn’t mingle well with her current situation. Her boyfriend had been charged with pouring acid on a dog, now he was missing, and there was a serial killer pulling from that victim pool.
Jack took a seat and ran his hands downs his thighs to straighten his pant legs. I sat beside him.
“How long was he a family friend?” Jack asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Years. Saul’s a good man.”
Like your boyfriend? I thought sarcastically.
“Why are you asking about him? He’s all right, I hope.”
It dawned on me, she hadn’t asked us once about Howell. There was no concern about his wellbeing, whether we had found him, if he was alive or dead.
“How long were you and Warren Howell together?” I asked.
“Seven years.” A smile accompanied her words.
Seven years, but she was able to easily dismiss him from her life. There was only one way to broach the subject that concerned me, and that was directly.
“You don’t seem very upset that your husband—boyfriend—is missing.”
Melissa made a clucking sound with her tongue. “That’s because I’ve been repeating my positive mantras ever since he left.”
“He left?” Interesting terminology. She was in denial that it wasn’t of his own choice.
“Yes, I think so now.”
“Were you having problems in the relationship?”
“Absolutely not.” Another smile.
“But you still believe he left you?”
She nodded. “But I believe he’ll be back. We’re meant to be together.” Her smile and happy aura finally faded. “I’m sure you think he’s a horrible man for doing what he did to that dog.”
No response was necessary.
“That wasn’t the real him. He was drunk…and high. He wasn’t thinking.”
He wasn’t thinking? It took every part of me to keep grounded to the couch. “Did he abuse you?”
An awkward few seconds of silence. “It’s not about me. Have you found him?”
“No,” Jack answered her.
Her eyes snapped to him and she studied his face. “Do you think he’s been murdered?”
While the smile had disappeared, there were odd emotions coming off her. I tagged it as denial.
“We believe he’s been taken against his will.” Jack bobbed his head toward the photo of Larson. “Tell us more about him.”
“What is there to say? He’s a good man. He’s been a friend of mine for a long time, Warren’s even longer. He introduced me to him. Doesn’t hurt having a big shot as a friend.” The smiles were back.
What she said struck. We were leaning toward the unsub being a friend to his victims, but Howell’s abduction appeared incongruous. Prior victims were charged twenty-some years ago. Howell was charged within the last six months. The other thing that hit me was her wording big shot. Lyons had told Paige that Gene got off his charges because “he knew someone who knew someone.” We had considered that someone to be Hogan’s father, the mayor. What if it was Larson? His main concern seemed to lie with his paper. Conflict made for terrific headlines. But how much clout would an editor have? And how long had Larson been such? Did our killer sacrifice his scruples to get someone off, only to repay him in kind?
“Your boyfriend beat the animal abuse charges against him,” I stated.
“Yes, because the right thing is always done.”
“What do you mean by that exactly?” I had to be careful how I articulated those words.
“Just that. Justice was done, Agent. It might not be what you would see as justice, but the right thing always plays out.”
I imagined the future when she could be receiving notice that Howell had been murdered. Would she still feel that justice had played out?
“How did Larson react to the charges against Mr. Howell?”
Seconds of silence passed.
“Melissa?” I prompted.
“He was kind of weird. You know what writers are like I’m sure. They’re usually in their own world.”
“How was he weird?” Jack asked directly.
“He was supportive but distant at the same time.”
“Does Larson have a dog?”
“Oh, he used to. Her name was Molly.”
Chapter 44
We left with the knowledge Howell was a close friend of Saul Larson. Coincidence? I didn’t think so. The only thing that didn’t line up with that reasoning was why choose Howell when he had, up until recently, been choosing victims from further back? Was it to get us looking at Brent Turner? First, frame Fields, now Turner?
Jack was driving, another cigarette in his mouth—of course—and I made the call to Jenna Simpson. She answered on the third ring.
“Oh, you’re the young agent? Hello. I was wondering if you’d call.”
I pictured Paige glaring at me and lighting me on fire with the intent of her stare. I stayed focused on business. “I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.” Jenna’s voice carried a smile.
“Was your husband friends with Saul Larson?”
“Oh, and here I thought you were going to ask me out for drinks.”
“Jenna, maybe another time.”
Jack glanced over at me. I needed his attention back on the road. We were coming up on the rear end of another SUV.
“You want to make a girl beg, Mr. Agent?”
I cleared my throat. “Saul Larson?”
&n
bsp; “What about him?”
“Was your husband friends with him?”
“What’s in it for me?”
I realized all of the women involved with these men weren’t too heartbroken by their absence, but then again, if they abused an innocent dog, they weren’t men worth missing. “You could help us find your husband’s killer.”
“You think Saul did this? You think he killed Darren?” Panic and anger replaced any prior inclination to seduce me into her bed.
“So, he was a friend of your husband’s?”
“Yeah, distant friends. I think he was at the bar on Wednesdays sometimes. Darren mentioned seeing him.”
“At Smitty’s Bar?”
“Yes.” A second’s pause. “Hey, what about our drinks?”
“I’ll be in touch.” I hung up immediately. I didn’t need to give her proposal the trace of a thought or I might surrender to male weakness.
I updated Jack. “They were friends.”
“This is getting to be more than coincidence. Call Nadia. Have her specifically search for Saul Larson among the bar’s receipts.”
“On it.”
I contacted Nadia through the onboard system, and seconds later we had our answer. Larson was a confirmed regular at Smitty’s Bar. By extension, it was easy to assume that Saul Larson and Darren Simpson could have been drinking buddies.
Chapter 45
All of us were at Denver PD poring over the evidence from the Bailey case and sharing our discoveries.
“Bailey worked for Larson’s father,” Paige said.
I noticed that Zachery had his face in crime scene photographs and he seemed to be going back and forth between a couple of them.
“We confirmed that Simpson and Howell were friends with Larson. Larson had a dog,” I offered.
“We need more,” Jack said.
“I don’t understand how much more we need.” I should have backed down, as evidenced when Zachery looked up from the photos and glanced from Jack, to me, but I didn’t. “We moved on Bowen and Fields with less.”
“The guy had a pickup truck, access to the victims, Brandon. He was looking solid for the murders. Larson has circumstantial against him right now.”
The Defenseless (Brandon Fisher FBI Series Book 3) Page 17