by Dave Balcom
I nodded to both of them, “Of course. We’re glad you could see us this morning.” I turned into the kitchen and Rita put a cup of coffee in my hand, and then put her arm around me, “You’re looking pretty prim and proper; do you feel all right?”
“I’ll feel better doing something to find Jan than I will sitting around here.”
“We’d better move, Jim,” Chance said draining his coffee.
“Let him finish his coffee, Sheriff,” Rita said in her best school teacher voice.
“Yes, ma’am, I could use another swallow myself.”
“That’s better.”
We both waited until she’d turned her attention to the folks on the porch, and then shared a polite chuckle, tipped up our mugs for the last time, and headed out. “Thanks for the joe, Rita,” I called over my shoulder, and got a wave as an answer.
“We’re going to the Flynt compound,” Chance said as we started our drive. “I’ve had three deputies out there all night, and we’ll be their relief until noon. I expect you to exercise those interview talents I’ve heard so much about.
“But at the same time, I want you to be very careful. There are plenty of Flynts you’d enjoy having coffee or a beer with, but there are some that are really scary. I’ve put several in the penitentiary and I’m sure there are some bad actors I’ve missed as well.
“Keep your head on a swivel.”
“What about Ron Flynt? You know him? Does he live out here?”
“Not much; I’m pretty sure he lives in town. I know him to see him, like this morning, but I’ve never had a real conversation with him.”
“What do we know about the people who shot up the house last night?”
“We’ve got six in custody. My guys caught them as they were leaving town, probably headed here. The State Police crime scene technicians have gone all over that house and yard, and took all kinds of pictures and measurements. There is another team coming later this morning, and until they get done, we won’t really know how many shooters there were.”
“Do we know the three that didn’t make it out alive?”
“We do. One of them is Jake Flynt. He’s been in and out of jails and prisons his entire life; the other two married into the clan. Both had serious criminal records.”
“Any word on what triggered the attack?”
“Not one word so far.”
I had trouble with that. “What kind of lunatic behavior is that? I mean, if there’s a profit motive behind the kidnappings and threats, what’s the purpose of trying to kill the entire family like that?”
He just shook his head.
We crested a small hill and a wide valley opened up before us. Heavily wooded slopes gave way to lush fields and we got just a glimpse of it before we were swallowed up by the oaks.
“This it?” I asked.
“Yep. Spring Bottoms, the family home of the Flynt clan since the nineteenth century. Today it’s the home of the largest beef cattle operation in Adair County.”
As we leveled out on the valley floor, I could see modern farm buildings ahead, and at the first intersection, Chance took a right on a gravel road between what appeared to be bean fields that stretched all the way to the woods.
As we approached the tree line I saw another track cross our road, and looking down the track on my side I realized it was a driveway. The house at the other end of the drive just peeked out of the trees.
“There are thirteen families living in this part of the commune,” Chance said as he pulled to a stop in the yard between a giant home and an even larger barn.
“Reggie Flynt is the patriarch of this family, Jim. He’s a real character. Lived his whole life within twenty miles of this house.”
As we got out of the cruiser the screen door at the front of the house opened, and a young woman, probably in her twenties, stepped out on the porch. She had a towel in her hands. She was wearing a dress and apron. I thought she might have stepped out of the nineteen fifties until she opened her mouth.
“Sheriff Bill! I figured you’d be by here this mornin’. Who’s that you got with you?”
Bill took off his Stetson as he stepped up on the porch, “Cheryl, I’d like you to meet Jim Stanton from Oregon; Jim this is Cheryl Flynt, home from college for the summer.”
She extended her hand and I shook it. “Welcome, Mr. Stanton,” she said with a bit of a smile.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Sheriff Bill, I’ve got two of your deputies eatin’ in my kitchen. The third is over at Grayson’s place, keepin’ an eye out for what I don’t know.”
“Thank you, Cheryl. We’ve come to relieve the deputies and to talk with some of your kin today about the episode last night in town.”
“You don’t think we had anything to do with that, do you?”
Bill cocked his head at her, “You lost three relatives in that deal last night, Cheryl; and you know good and well that you’ve got six more in my jail this morning, so, yes, I do think.”
“Well, that’s more than I knew; who died?”
He told her and I watched her listen, but I didn’t read any reaction to the news.
“I was hoping to spend some time with your grandfather this morning,” Bill continued.
“He went to town real early; I didn’t know why, but I guess I do now.”
She led us into the house, and I was taken by how well kept it was. The furniture I saw as we made our way back to the kitchen looked to be crafted out of the native oak, and I said so.
“Amish built it for my grandparents,” she said.
The two deputies rose as Bill walked into the expanse of kitchen. The remnants of breakfast and wadded up cloth napkins were the only mess to meet my eye as I took in the modern, well-appointed room.
She caught my look, “Surprised that country folk live like this?” She said with a wave of her arm, from the stainless range, refrigerator and freezer to the granite counter tops and custom-looking cabinetry.
“Not surprised, just appreciative,” I said with a smile. “Living well is...”
“...the best revenge,” she finished for me with a smile of her own.
Bill walked his deputies out to their vehicle. I could see them chatting by the squad. “Do sit down, Mr. Stanton,” she said. “Would you care for something to eat?”
“I don’t think so, thanks. I think we’re going to go relieve the other deputy; I’m really not sure what our agenda is today.”
“Oh, I’m sure Sheriff Bill has a plan to solve last night’s shooting, but he’s not going to learn anything from me.”
“Why? You don’t know or you won’t tell?”
“If I knew it’s probably true I might not tell, but I really don’t know. I just came home from school yesterday.”
“Where do you go to school?”
“UCLA.”
“That’s a bit of a surprise considering what I’d heard about your grandpa Reggie.”
“You should have seen me trying to explain my need to go to college at all much less on the far side of the moon.” She was laughing at that. “I’m not sure you or anyone outside of this valley could ever come to understand the complexities of life here. I have relatives here who’ve never made it to Iowa and see no reason to ever go that far away. I have relatives from here who are professors in universities and who are researchers and who never come home; they don’t even acknowledge this place as home.” She shrugged as the Sheriff came back into the room.
“Jim? We need to move on, you ready?”
I stood and turned to Cheryl Flynt to say my goodbyes, “Thank you, Cheryl... but before I leave, can you tell me what you’re studying at UCLA?”
“Anthropology, of course.” She looked around and waved her hand again, only this time I felt she was covering the entire valley. “I grew up in what could be considered an anthropologist’s Petrie dish.”
As we walked out into the dooryard, a pickup truck followed by four dark blue sedans pulled in. Richards and Hurst got
out of the first of the sedans, and the other three emptied eight more men who by their dress and demeanor were obviously agents.
The pickup truck was driven by a young man I guessed to be a teenager, an elderly man got out of the truck and made a beeline to Cheryl Flynt’s side.
“This pack of federal hyenas is here to search the place,” he shouted at her. “Randy and I ran into them just as we were leaving the jail, and they told us they were headed out here. They followed us like lost sheep.”
“Calm down, Grampa,” she put her hand on his arm and turned to the youngster, “Did you and Grampa talk to any of the men in jail?”
“No ma’am.” He pointed to Richards, “He wouldn’t let anyone near ’em, he said, until they’re charged. He said Mr. Black was in with ’em, and was protectin’ their rights.”
“Do you have the search warrant?” She asked, looking at Richards. He handed it to her. She opened it and I could see it unfold like an accordion.
“Every room in every building?”
“That’s right, ma’am, starting here and going through every property on that list.”
“Looking for what?” She was scanning the document, looking for the description. Richards stepped up to her and pointed to the second paragraph. She turned away from him and started to read, then she turned back to him and I watched as the color drained out of her face. Then she turned to me, “Your wife?”
“Mr. Stanton is not part of this process. I didn’t know he was here,” Richards started, “but now that he is, I will keep him away from the search. He has no standing here.” As he said that he was staring daggers at Chance.
“He’s with me,” the sheriff said nonchalantly. “I’ve deputized him for the purpose of conducting some interviews as part of my investigation into last night’s attack.”
“This is a feder...” But Chance interrupted him.
“The kidnapping is all yours, Archie; but that attack at the Sweet home last night? That’s an Adair County issue, and until a State Police investigator gets here, it’s all mine.”
I heard all this, but I was watching the old man, and I could see he was truly agitated, but he kept his mouth shut, and watched his granddaughter. “Grampa, Randy, this is all legal. We can’t interfere with their search. If they find a locked door, and they let you know, then you’ll have to open it for them, understand?”
“Cheryl, why would anybody think his wife is with us?” Randy asked pointing at me. “We don’t, right?”
“She’s been kidnapped,” Cheryl said flatly. “After finding the Parker girl at Grayson’s last night, who can blame them?”
“But Grayson and his family thought she was a friend of Christy’s from school!”
“Shush, now. Help them any way you can, hear?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Chapter 56
Chance and Richards walked away to discuss their differences; Cheryl and her grandfather went inside; Randy hung around waiting to be asked a question. Hurst came over to me.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” she said in a whisper.
“I’ve been better, but I didn’t get shot.”
“How are you feeling? I understand that two of those who were shot were hit with your weapon.”
“It never gets easy, but it’s easier than watching your friends die.”
“Nobody’s got any further questions for you about last night, I checked.”
“What’s the likelihood of finding Jan in this valley today?”
“It’s a lead, and we have no other. There are sixty buildings on that list. There are twenty four agents spread over the county waiting for Richards to launch the search; there are nine state troopers and four more Sheriff’s deputies as well. Richards figures if we’re thorough, we can open every door on that list before dark.”
Richards walked to the FBI sedan and pulled the radio microphone out through the window, “Commence search, start with domiciles; inform the householder if possible, keep all people confined where you find them until the search of the entire property is completed, including all outbuildings.”
“Jim,” Chance called, “Come with me.”
I trotted over to him as Richards and Hurst headed for the house with Randy and Cheryl while the other agents started towards the barn and other buildings.
“Where are we headed?”
“To interview Grayson Flynt.”
“You think he has something to do with all this?”
“Maybe, maybe not. He’s Cheryl’s and Randy’s dad. Widower; no police record; considered an upstanding member of the community.”
“And Marie was being held in his house?”
“Not actually, no; she was in the home of one of his cousins that is across the yard from his house. He was led to believe that she was a guest of his cousin’s daughter. In fact, he thought she’d gone home because he hadn’t seen her since the first day she arrived.”
“I wanted to talk with Reggie; can we do that before we go to Grayson’s?”
“Nope. Richards said to have you come back to Reggie if we don’t have any luck by three this afternoon.” I looked at my watch, it was just ten a.m.
“I’m a little surprised that she’s not Reggie’s kid; he seems to look to her for leadership.”
He didn’t respond, just got behind the wheel and started the engine. I hurried to get in on the other side before he just left me there.
Grayson Flynt was a big, beefy man. I guessed his age in the mid-fifties. His hands were huge, raw-looking, as if he’d been fighting all his life. His hair was completely white and his weather-beaten face, sun-bleached eyebrows, and stark blue eyes made him look like an older, fleshier version of the Marlboro Man.
When he spoke, he was direct and controlled.
“Mr. Stanton, I’m sorry to hear about your wife. I wish there was some way I could help you, but I know nothing of her whereabouts or how she was taken.”
“Thank you, Mr. Flynt. Can I call you Grayson? There are so many Flynts...”
He chuckled, “Of course, everyone I know is on a first-name basis out here.”
“I’m Jim, then. I’d like to talk to you about what you might not know you know; can we do that?
“Like what?”
“Well, like you didn’t know Marie Parker had been kidnapped so when you saw her arrive on Thursday you didn’t question how or why she was here, right?”
“Actually, we don’t get that many visitors or strangers out this way. So when I saw her I was instantly curious as to who she was and why she was here.”
“Who did you ask?”
“My cousin Roberta. She has a daughter, Shelly, that same age. Roberta said Marie was a friend of Shelly’s.”
I turned to Chance. “Did you talk with Roberta?”
“I would have, but she’s not home. Hadn’t been home all day yesterday, right Grayson?”
“That’s right. She went to work on some church project in town, and hasn’t come back.”
“When did you find out she wasn’t home?”
“When Sheriff here was looking for Marie Parker, I told him the gal in the photo looked like a young gal who was visiting my cousin’s house. I walked him over there, and we knocked and Marie came to the door.” He looked at the sheriff.
“That’s right,” Bill said. “Marie told us that she’d been told that Roberta and Shelly would be killed if she left the house.”
“Who told her that?” I asked.
“She said she didn’t see his face, but he’d told her that in the morning. Told her she’d be home alone all day, but if she went out of the house, Shelly and her mom would be killed.”
I made a note, and then I asked if he had any other family members who were entertaining house guests in the valley.
“No,” he said, shaking his head wearily, “Sheriff Chance asked me the same question yesterday. I’m afraid everyone in our valley belongs to us.”
I thanked him for his time, and we went out to the car.
> “Could a family clan like this be so diverse that you could have the kind of crazy we saw last night living cheek by jowl with normal, rational family members?”
“You wouldn’t think so, would you?”
“So, is there any part of this commune of Flynts that is set off apart from this complex or Reggie’s complex? I mean, if someone in this group is nuts enough to threaten Roberta and Shelly living next door to Grayson, wouldn’t it stand to reason that the nut might live with like-minded nuts in another little complex?”
“Wait right here.”
He went back inside. I sat and watched as police officers completed the search of a milk parlor, and moved on towards what looked like a silo.
Chance was gone a good fifteen minutes, and when he came back he had his county book of township maps in his hands. He spread it on the hood of his cruiser, “Look at this, Jim.”
He had drawn circles around the two clusters we’d already seen. He had four squares drawn in other parts of the township map. “Each of these is where Grayson said are clusters of homes similar to his and Reggie’s. He said not all of them were as big or nice as these, but he said each of them represents a significant branch of the family.”
“Did he say which branch housed the best nuts?”
“Come on, wise guy, let’s you and me go find out.”
Chapter 57
In the first rectangle on Chance’s map, we found a group of people standing in the door yard. They looked to be residents, and they were staring at the house as if they were waiting for someone to come out, or a puff of white smoke from the chimney.
Chance killed the motor and stepped out of the car, but none of the people turned to him, they seemed entranced watching the house.
He walked to the front of the group, “Folks, I’m Sheriff Bill Chance. I’d like a word with each of you. To move that along faster, I’ve got a special deputy here, so you can pair off with either of us, okay?”
Nobody said a word or moved. They just stood and watched the house.
Bill stepped close to an older man in the front of the group, “Ben? You’re Ben Flynt, aren’t you?”
The man turned to him. “That’s my name; this is my home. You people have no right poking around in my house.”