His Garden of Bones

by Vickie McKeehan

  A bit nervous, Winston adjusted his horn rims again. “Absolutely. With this guy’s name we could easily take advantage of all the bells and whistles the carmakers have added—keyless entry, remote start up, wireless technology, Internet access, navigational systems, anti-theft devices and cellular-telematics—it’s little wonder the automakers haven’t been able to come up with a way to protect consumers from hackers like me.”

  Josh all but wrapped up the guy in his arms. “You’ve given this some thought. All those features are right there, right there for the hacking. A simple computer chip away from cracking into the system.”

  Skye stared at Winston. “Are you saying there’s a real possibility you could ‘interfere’ with one of these ‘features’ to the point of hacking into a Theron King’s…”

  Winston sent her a wide grin and didn’t let her finish. “Late model vehicle? You bet. Stealing personal data would be a snap. Better than that though, to suit our purposes, I could hack into the controls and cause the vehicle to do any number of things the driver didn’t want it to do.”

  Riveted at the idea of that, Skye asked, “Like what?”

  “Like accelerate, or stop or turn when the driver least expects it. I could even cause the headlights to blink off and on in a crazy, Stephen King Christine, devil car, kind of way. I could modify the speed, or change the gas-gauge readings to make it look like the driver needs to pull over for gas because he believes he’s run out of fuel.”

  Skye’s mouth dropped open. “You could do all that? I mean, you could make his vehicle come to a dead stop at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere? You guys better not be punking me.”

  “It’s a fact,” Josh stated. “And another tool we use to catch this guy because anything in the control panel is fair game.”

  Winston agreed. “As long as I know the vehicle type and manufacturer, if the feature’s main function is to act like a mini computer, I hack the chip. That includes almost any of the security firewalls, or I should say the lack of firewalls. If you think this Theron King is our guy, then someone should do a vehicle search to see if he owns a van like the one that hit you.”

  “Do it,” Josh ordered. “I have his address from the motor vehicle report. But I suspect he has an alternate property somewhere he takes his victims. He wouldn’t want the neighbors to see him bringing in girls he’s kidnapped.”

  While one programmer went to work, Josh whirled on the other. To Reggie, he suggested, “Skye started an online chat. See if you can keep the dialogue going. Run through the website’s stats scouring their database for any IP addresses that link back to Theron King. Look for any beyond his primary residence, look for any other property he owns. Think outside the box. I want any property connected to his business.”

  Josh turned his attention to Emmett. “What did you find out from Pocatello?”

  “Not much, other than Leo’s data was spot on. After five young girls disappeared between ten and fifteen years ago authorities felt they were dealing with a serial killer. Keep in mind this is in a town with a population of about fifty thousand. But because no bodies ever turned up, it was just a theory at the time that went nowhere. They feel that if it was a serial at work, their guy moved on out of the area, eventually. The local cops had very few leads and the little they had never panned out. Even after doing ground searches, to this day they have no idea if the girls ran away or foul play was involved.”

  “So we have a name and an address but not much other evidence to take to Harry,” Skye grumbled. “It’s time to decide what we do about it. You know what my vote is. I say we hunt down this Theron King.”

  Josh bobbed his head. “So we snoop around the guy’s house.” He turned to Winston. “Any luck yet on that vehicle match?”

  “Tiffany Produce owns not one, but two brand new Ford cargo vans registered to the business. Strangely enough neither vehicle displays a logo on the side like you’d think a normal business owner would do to advertise his product. In addition to the delivery trucks, each one of King’s vehicles is technically owned by his produce business—a Chevy Malibu, a GMC Yukon, a Subaru station wagon, and an older model pickup.”

  “Geez, he has more vehicles than a used car lot. Let’s hope he’s using one of the newer cars and not the older truck.”

  Josh rubbed the back of his neck and began to pace. “So many choices at his disposal means a better chance at keeping law enforcement guessing if someone spots him nabbing a girl. That way, he could always change out rides. Talk to me, Winston. What else were you able to glean about King from the Internet?”

  “King’s primary address is less than a quarter mile from the houseboat. Here’s the satellite image.” Winston turned his laptop around so that everyone could get a look. “See how the house sits up on the hill above Lake Union in what could only be described as a stately mansion. It takes in acres and acres of gardens. King also owns a dozen or so properties all over the Washington State area and keeps a boat docked at Elliot Bay Marina.”

  Skye shoved out a sigh. “I’m betting he isn’t anywhere near the mansion, which means he could be at any one of his other residences and move around for a month before we happened upon his nest.”

  She took out her phone. “I’m calling Harry. For us this is like looking for a needle in a haystack the size of the Pacific Northwest. But using Seattle PD we might narrow it down to a few.”

  “Suggest Harry start with Tiffany Produce and the estate. We’ll fan out, take each location and eliminate them, one by one.”

  Winston had waited long enough before showing off a bit with the prize nuggets he’d uncovered. “But the real news is that I discovered Theron King was born Dillard Barstow, born and raised in Pocatello, Idaho. Once he got to Oregon State he went to a judge in Corvallis and changed his name.”

  Skye bobbled the phone. “Okay, so Corvallis is another link to the string of victims here. That’s where Lindsey Claypool lived and went to school. This is definitely pointing to King or rather Barstow. It’s all beginning to come together. So how do we play this?”

  “We storm the castle,” Josh declared.

  “Uh, guys, there’s more,” Winston said. “If you go after this guy, you may have a lot of territory to cover. In addition to Theron King’s organic growing business, he teaches horticulture classes at the Southside Community College three days a week, Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.”

  “And this is Friday. Damn. When did his classes let out?”

  But before Winston could come up with an answer, Travis’s cell went off. He snuck into the kitchen to take the call and came back a couple minutes later. “That was Chenoa’s sister Jada. She hasn’t heard from Chenoa since this afternoon at two o’clock. When Jada couldn’t reach her by cell and Chenoa wouldn’t return her text messages, she headed to Chenoa’s place. Jada found her SUV parked in the driveway, the horses still outside in the corral instead of in the barn. But there was no sign of Chenoa anywhere. Jada had no idea that we’d broken up so she naturally headed over to my place. Then when I wasn’t home, she made the call to me. I told her to go ahead and contact the cops.”

  “Maybe Chenoa went shopping.” Skye held her hands up when Travis gave her one of his stern fatherly glares. “I don’t mean anything by it. Maybe there’s a reasonable explanation. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Look, Skye, I need to go see if I can help find Chenoa. I don’t have a choice. I promised Jada I’d meet up with her and the cops at Chenoa’s place. ”

  “Then go. Let us know if you need help. In the meantime we’ll check out this Theron King guy.”

  “Wait. Just wait a sec,” Josh urged. “Slow down a minute. You don’t think it’s strange that all of a sudden Chenoa is unaccounted for? She didn’t strike me as a woman who has a habit of leaving her horses unattended. Could she have gone missing because Theron King found his way to her ranch and nabbed her?”

  Skye bristled at the suggestion. “That’s reaching. Let’s just take a step ba
ck. We’re all over-reacting here. She probably ran to the store.”

  Travis put his hands on his hips. “Her car was still there.”

  “Okay, so maybe she went somewhere with a friend. Besides, Chenoa doesn’t fit this guy’s profile…at all. Why would he bother with Chenoa?”

  Emmett interrupted. “Ashley Kendrow didn’t fit the profile either, not with a baby on board. Chenoa’s connection is right here in the room.”

  “I’m the connection to Skye and Josh,” Travis pointed out. “Look, we don’t really have time to be standing around debating this. Chenoa’s gone and we need to find her.”

  Before Travis could charge out the door on his own, Skye needed to put aside her dislike for the woman. Didn’t she have a foundation that helped locate people who’d gone missing?

  “Josh is right,” Skye finally said. “Do me a favor though. Just wait fifteen minutes for us to regroup. Let’s narrow down which car we think King might be driving. That’ll go a long way in the hunt. It’ll probably mean a trip out to his villa on the hill to find out which vehicles he has left parked in his garage—process of elimination. Meanwhile, we’ll send the cops by Tiffany Lettuce to check out the trucks there.”

  She grabbed her father’s arm. “Do you trust me?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then give me a little time to do what I do best. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Fine,” Travis groused. “But then what?”

  “From there, we call Winston with the info, let him use his hacking skills on whatever car the man’s driving.” She turned to the programmer. “Sound like a plan?”

  Winston nodded. “I’ll start work on improving my virus and malware bugs so they’ll be ready to go.”

  “Come on, guys. What are we waiting for? Let’s meet Harry at the King residence and find out what’s there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  While Harry Drummond and Seattle PD descended on Theron King’s estate with a warrant in hand, Josh and Skye scanned the man’s massive gardens.

  The well-kept grounds included several cordoned-off areas for tree orchards, a mass of greenery entwined with lush berry vines, enough blossoming flowers to supply most of the florists in the immediate area, and the kind of vegetation that would surely whet the appetite of every salad lover from here to Canada.

  Water flowed from half a dozen fountains. The soothing sound of it caused the eyes to follow the path as it met up in a triangular pattern. In the middle of the triad was a large rectangular pond, complete with giant flowering water lilies floating on top.

  Benches, made from both stone and wood, were positioned along the walkways at various gaps. Replicas of the famous Greek statues, from Athena to Zeus, were mixed in with the scenery. It was obvious to anyone who walked through the footpaths that someone had done their research on Greek mythology. The place looked like a public arboretum.

  “It looks like Theron is quite the gardener. Stockman said he was good at growing things,” Josh observed. “He was certainly a fan of the Greeks.”

  “That’s an understatement. How could a person who put together this kind of beauty do the kinds of things we think Theron King has done?”

  “Attribute it to one of his personalities. I can’t wait to meet this guy face to face.”

  “Daniel Cree would’ve loved this place. It’s a gardener’s dream and a vegetarian’s paradise. Now I see how he’s been able to supply produce for most of Seattle.”

  “My guess is he has separate fields dedicated to his commercial enterprises. This place is personal.”

  “His personal garden,” Skye repeated, beginning to understand the symmetry of the layout. Hedges of evergreen mingled with cherry laurel. Common beech had been planted among practical hazelnut and colorful dogwood. “You don’t suppose there are bodies buried somewhere around here, like near that spot that looks like a cemetery. The one with all the sculptures.” It gave Skye chills just to say it out loud.

  Josh’s eyes darted to the archway of flowers at the entrance and beyond that to the collection of stone and marble statues. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing. We should have brought Atka along.”

  “Definitely. Atka would’ve been an asset here. But cadaver dogs will work just as well. Better still, ground penetrating radar.”

  Harry overheard that last part. “This is definitely our guy. We found five different wigs in an alcove off the master bedroom and enough women’s clothing to fill a small boutique.”

  Skye crouched down to get a better lay of the land, picked up a twig from one of the eucalyptus trees and snapped it at the center. She did her best to understand how anyone could have so many different sides to them. “King’s girlfriend maybe?”

  “My gut says no. Those articles of clothing are for a large woman,” Harry replied. “Maybe because the dresses are sized to fit a very tall female about six feet and the same height as King.”

  “Aren’t you the fashion expert,” Josh deadpanned.

  Harry ignored the comment with a cop’s glare. “Not to mention the stuff was strewn all over the closet along with rows and rows of size eleven men’s shoes and women’s heels. That shoe print left at the Lisa Williams crime scene turned out to be a man’s size eleven.”

  Skye arched a brow in her own cynical display of humor. “Do men’s size elevens equate to the same size elevens in stilettos?”

  Bothered by the levity, Harry barked, “How should I know? This is new territory for me. Where’s that profiler of yours when we need him anyway? He’d be the one to ask.”

  “Emmett? He’s standing over by the mansion gate trying to keep Travis calm.”

  “Okay, but I think the profiler should know we found a professional makeup kit. I mean the real deal, theatrical stage quality stuff. It tells me this guy was very much into the whole appearance thing, making the illusion look as real as he could get.”

  Harry scratched his head. “Just when I think I’ve seen it all my last case turns out to be one of the strangest of my career.”

  “We aim to please,” Skye noted as she stood up, shifted her feet, beginning to get antsy. “This entire place is creeping me out. I’m chilled to the bone and I don’t think it’s the chilly north wind blowing in my face, either.”

  She glanced at Josh, then Harry. “I hate to remind both of you that just because we found the guy’s main lair, we haven’t nailed this bastard yet.”

  “And he may have a hostage.” Josh looked up at the sky as the clouds began to spit rain. “It’s time we check out the garage. If there’s no sign of Chenoa it means Travis will be busting a gut to get moving.”

  The garage turned out to be a dead end even though they found the delivery van that had hit Josh—its front fender smashed—and the older model pickup truck parked inside. But they were unable to locate the Malibu or the Yukon. Neither vehicle had been stashed in any of the other buildings on the property.

  Which prompted Josh to share the details of Winston’s plan with Harry. “We have year, makes, and models from state records. And if they have On Star technology it’ll be that much easier. We need to know which cars the uniforms found at the school and at Tiffany Produce.”

  The detective took out his cell phone. After several long minutes he ended the call. “Southside Community College was a dead end. The vehicles in question weren’t parked in any of the lots. Tiffany Produce has a Malibu parked behind the warehouse. So if I were you I’d get your friend to work his magic on the Yukon.”

  Josh sent a text to Winston. Do you have the manufacturer’s third party data ready?

  Got it.

  What about the malware?

  Ready to go anytime you give the word.

  Locate the data for the Yukon. Let me know when you have Theron King’s On Star info.

  Roger that. I’ll come in through the navigation system.

  Let me know when you get results.

  It took Winston eighteen minutes.

  As soon as the text came in Josh
announced, “Winston says it looks like King’s Yukon is headed for his thirty foot boat moored at Elliot Bay.”

  Skye frowned. “That’s a very crowded area. It’s jammed with restaurants and people. He must be losing it to head to such a public place on a Friday afternoon.”

  “Then we take advantage of his unraveling.”

  Another five minutes went by before Winston flooded the controls of the Yukon with bogus information and then enough virus commands to stop the vehicle in its tracks.

  Two words were all Winston texted back. Mission accomplished.

  What’s King’s exact location? Josh asked via text.

  1.75 miles from Elliot Bay Marina. SUV stalled on side street, Essex Place.

  “What do you think Chenoa’s chances are?” Travis wanted to know.

  Skye rubbed his arm. “King hasn’t stopped moving, which means she’s still alive. There’s hope and where there’s hope, we work harder at getting her home in one piece.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  As Dillard headed toward the marina and his boat, he took a shortcut to save time. While the SUV hummed along Essex Place lined with towering western hemlock and cedar trees, things were going well in his head. He’d calmed down from the adrenaline rush of abducting Chenoa. He’d managed to make it this far without freaking out.

  The landscape changed from the gentle roll of hill to the pancake-flat, coastal marshland at sea level. Recognizing the familiar terrain, the anticipation made him step on the gas to get to his destination faster. As he grew closer to Pier Sixty-Six, where he could sneak his victim on board his boat, he tried to accelerate even more. But the Yukon stalled. It suddenly came to a complete stop in the roadway.

  He checked the gas gauge. He had plenty of fuel. Desperate, he turned the key, trying to engage the starter again. But all he got for his trouble was a terrible grinding noise.

  In his madness the alter ego he’d used to gain Chenoa’s trust—the female named Justine—snapped out her disapproval of the situation. “What the fuck have you done now? We have to make it to Elliot Bay Marina and get out of the area while this bitch is still out cold. Because of you the boat is our only way out.”