by C. M. Sutter
“Mrs. Orth?”
“Yes.”
“We’re from the sheriff’s department in North Bend, Wisconsin.” We pulled out our badges.
“Of course. Please come in.”
We stepped inside and made our introductions, then we shook her hand. She was alone and said her husband couldn’t get off work. We nodded.
Mrs. Orth pointed at the couch. “Please, have a seat. I made coffee. Would you like some?”
“That would be great,” Jack said. “Black for both of us.”
Jack and I had an agreement that whenever we conducted interviews at someone’s home, we’d drink our coffee black. We never wanted to inconvenience anyone. Once Mrs. Orth sat down, we began the interview.
Jack pulled out his notepad, flipped to a blank page, and wrote as I asked the questions.
“Ma’am, did you get a chance to review the email I sent you last night?” I asked.
“Yes, and that was helpful. Trying to think of all Reanne’s friends’ names and contact numbers would have taken time.”
She handed me the sheet of paper where she had written the information.
“Thank you.” I continued on, “Did Reanne have a job?”
“She worked at Black Label Tattoos downtown. I’ve already spoken to them. Heck, I’ve spoken to everyone she ever knew or had contact with. The local cops weren’t any help at all. My husband and I did everything on our own.”
“Did Reanne hang out with anyone that seemed shady, maybe people it might not have been in her best interest to associate with?”
“Hang out with? I’m not sure. She had her usual group of friends, but in a tattoo parlor, you’ll likely find some undesirables.”
“What was Reanne’s role there?” Jack asked.
“She took the phone calls, set up appointments, and showed albums to people that weren’t quite sure what they wanted. I guess you’d call her the secretary or receptionist.”
I opened my briefcase and took out the dragon tattoo picture. “Ma’am, did you know Reanne had this on her back?”
Mrs. Orth broke down in tears. She reached for a tissue from the dispenser on the coffee table and wiped her eyes. “I found out, and we argued about it. I wondered where her paycheck was going. She always seemed short of money. I lost it when she showed me the tattoo and said that was the reason why. Apparently, the guys at the parlor had been working on it for months during their free time. It cost her over a thousand dollars. I’ll admit, I was furious. She stormed out of the house and drove off. That was the last time I ever saw her.”
“She left in a car?”
“Yes, her own, but we got it back the next day. It was found abandoned with a flat back passenger tire about five miles from here at a swimming lake all the kids go to. We assumed she didn’t have the money to repair or replace the tire. We figured a friend picked her up and she just needed a day or two to blow off steam. She never came home and never answered her phone after that day.”
“So the car was never checked over by law enforcement?”
“No—we didn’t know a crime had been committed.” Mrs. Orth stole a glance at Jack, then she stared at the floor. “I’m sorry—if only we had known. Maybe there was evidence in the car. We took the car in and had all the tires replaced. They were due anyway. The man at the garage said the flat tire looked like a nail puncture, but nothing was in the tire.”
I patted the back of her hand. “It’s okay, really. Mrs. Orth, had Reanne seemed different, depressed, agitated, or worried about anything?”
“Not that I noticed, but she’s twenty-one. Kids do weird things.” Mrs. Orth continued looking at the floor. “I meant to say she was twenty-one. How did she end up in Wisconsin, officers?”
“Well, ma’am, that’s what we’re trying to find out. Have you contacted a funeral home yet?” I asked.
“Not yet. We’re grieving and still trying to process this.”
“We understand, ma’am. I have a forensic artist’s sketch of Reanne. We’ll need you to confirm it’s her.” I took the sketch out of my briefcase and turned it toward Mrs. Orth.
“It’s her. My sister and brother-in-law were certain of it when they saw that local news broadcast last night. I trust their opinion.”
“Ma’am, is there anything else you want us to know about her?”
“She was a good kid. Everyone that age fights with their parents, you know?”
We nodded.
“But all in all, she was sweet and didn’t give us any trouble. She wasn’t into the drug scene and didn’t smoke. She went out on Friday nights with her friends, usually to Boomers Bar on Fifth Avenue, the typical thing young adults do.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Orth.” We handed her our cards. “We’ll be in Grand Forks for most of the day checking out some of these places and names. Please call if there’s anything else you’d like to discuss.” We shook her hand. “We’re sorry for your loss. We’ll be in touch to let you know how soon we can release Reanne’s body.”
She escorted us to the door, and we left. We heard the door close at our backs.
Jack climbed in behind the steering wheel and looked over at me. “Who do you want to check out first?”
“Let’s go with the tattoo parlor, then Boomers.”
My cell rang, and I looked at the screen—Jason was calling. “Hey, Jason, what have you got?”
“The tox report came in, and I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting this.”
“And that’s what?”
“Xylazine overdose, enough to put down a large animal.”
“Holy crap—horse tranquilizers?”
“Yep, she must have gotten injected right in a major artery. It likely killed her within seconds. I didn’t notice needle marks on the initial exam, but now that I know what I’m looking for, I’ll check the carotid and femoral arteries under a magnifying glass.”
“How does one get Xylazine?”
“It’s available online to pharmacies and veterinarians. Whoever did this either has a fake license or they broke in somewhere and stole the drug. That would be nearly impossible to track across all of the pharmacies or vet clinics throughout the country. The drug could just as easily come from Canada or Mexico too.”
“So we know what killed her, but we can’t track the killer from the drug?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s unlikely.”
“Damn it. Okay, anything else?”
“Yeah, put me on speakerphone.”
I pressed the speaker icon on my cell. “Okay, go ahead.”
“We have a new chief medical examiner.”
I heard Jason chuckle. I turned my head toward Jack and grinned.
“Who is it?” Jack asked.
“It’s the woman from Indianapolis. I met her earlier, and she’s pretty cool. She’ll start next week.”
I laughed and gave a fist pump. Jack groaned.
“Okay, Jason. Thanks for the update.”
“There’s one more thing, Jade.”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
“Dan said he lifted fingerprints from the duct tape, but they aren’t in the system. He checked nationwide.”
“Damn it. Okay, thanks. See you later.” I hung up.
Chapter 11
“Grab the binos. Those two might have potential,” Jeremy said as he leaned forward and pointed through the windshield.
Matt slapped at the floor behind him, grabbed both pairs by the straps, and pulled them over the seat. He handed one set to Jeremy.
“Yeah, they look good.”
“Never mind, the blonde has a sleeve tat. Whatever happened to the girls without ink? They’re getting harder and harder to find.”
“That should make them more valuable.” Matt shook the thermos. There was still coffee sloshing around inside. “Want some more?”
“Yeah, sure. Another hour and this beach will be packed. There’s no way we’re going home empty handed,” Jeremy said.
Matt poured the last two cups from the thermos,
screwed the lid back on, and set it on the floor. He leaned back in his seat with the cup in his hand. The coffee was tepid at best. “When are you going to get rid of Beth?”
“If we snag a couple of girls to take home with us, Beth will definitely meet her maker in the next few days. Maybe we’ll do it when Melanie leaves. Liz will be the only one left since we began this road trip and grabbed Reanne in Grand Forks. I’ll admit, Matt, your suggestion of getting them as we go was brilliant. It’s easier, and there isn’t a bread-crumb trail. None of the girls are from the same town. These next two will be the exception, but the cops will look for them in Milwaukee, not out in Podunk farm country.”
Matt sat up straight in his seat and put his cup on the dash. “Hey, check those two babes three cars up. I don’t see tats on either of them.” He adjusted the focus on the binos. Jeremy did too.
They watched as two young women exited a green car and opened the trunk. They pulled out a cooler and a large blanket then headed for the beach.
“Yeah, I’m liking the looks of it so far. I like the fact that they parked under that big tree too. It darkens the area a bit so they won’t notice the flat tire right away.”
“Plus the curb helps. I think they’re perfect.”
A sly smile crept across Jeremy’s face. “I agree, bro. Let’s wait until they’re settled on the beach. We have to make sure no boyfriends show up.”
Jeremy checked the time—twelve fifteen. “If nobody else shows up in an hour, we’ll get started. You walk out with the camera strap around your neck and the blanket on the cooler. Spread the blanket out and start taking pictures right away. Take shots of the lake and harbor first so you don’t seem invasive. Get a couple of beach shots after that, then I’ll show up with the pooch and a ball. Make sure you lay the blanket right next to the women so we can strike up a conversation.”
Matt grinned. He was ready to get the sham started. “How much time are we going to give ourselves?”
“A few hours. If it doesn’t seem like they’re ready to leave by four o’clock, we’ll hit them with the needle. They’ll just seem like they had too much to drink, and we’ll walk them to the van. Remember, anything we touch goes in our cooler. Don’t leave any bottles or cans behind.”
“Wish me luck.” Matt grabbed the door handle and stepped down onto the curb. The gear he needed was pulled from the back of the van, then he took the sandy path to the beach.
With the binos pressed against his eyes, Jeremy watched Matt get closer to the women they chose. He saw Matt spread out the blanket and place the cooler on it, then he exchanged a greeting with the ladies.
Good job, bro. Work it.
Jeremy continued watching as Matt lifted the camera hanging from the leather strap around his neck and started shooting toward the water. Still watching through the binos, Jeremy saw Matt turn and talk to the women some more. They were already intrigued.
“No sense in prolonging this—it’s time. Come on, Cage, we have work to do.”
Jeremy clipped the leash on the dog collar and put a bottle of water in one pocket of his cargo shorts and the ball in another. He slipped off his shirt, put on his shades, and locked the van. The man and dog headed down the path.
Cage relieved himself in the bushes and sniffed a few tree trunks, then they continued on. The dog trotted alongside Jeremy, secured with the leash, as Jeremy walked across the warm sand, shirtless and looking as good as any male model. Both brothers were easy on the eyes—they were lucky that way. Jeremy had ice-blue eyes and wavy black hair that just skimmed his shoulders. Women fawned over him—and Matt too, with his wild-child long hair. Their good looks always worked to their advantage. Jeremy felt the stares of approval as he headed toward his brother.
Their eyes made contact, and Jeremy gave Matt a subtle nod as he and the pup approached. Matt knelt and called out to Cage. With the camera on his subject, Matt snapped shots of the dog as it ran toward him. This ruse had been used often in the past and worked to perfection. A camera and a dog were all that were necessary.
“Aww… look at the cute pup. What kind of dog is that?”
The ladies were hooked already. Jeremy noticed how the women gave him an approving smile when he reached their blanket.
“Ladies. So you like my dog, huh?”
“He’s adorable. What is he?”
“Cage is a rambunctious mountain cur. He’s only six months old with an overabundance of energy.” Jeremy extended his hand. “I’m Jeremy, and it looks like you’ve already met my photographer brother, Matt.”
“We’re Carley and Gina. Are you really a photographer?” Carley shielded her eyes with her hand as she looked up at Matt.
“Yeah, I sure am. Actually I photograph models, and my brother is one of my main clients.”
“You’re a model?” Gina asked as she grinned at Jeremy.
“Yeah, I have been for almost two years. We’re out here to do some magazine cover shots and let Cage have a few hours of exercise. Nice talking to you, ladies, but I have to stick close to Matt. He says when and where to set up. Come on, Cage.”
Matt waved Jeremy over. “Right here, bro. The sun glistening off the sand is perfect.”
The photo-shoot ruse had begun. Matt photographed Jeremy in the sand, against the water, and playing with the dog.
“Jeremy, throw the ball for Cage so I can get a few shots of both of you.”
Jeremy wound up and threw the ball toward the ladies’ blanket. Cage ran for it. The plan was flawless.
“Sorry,” Jeremy yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth.
Sand skidded over the blanket when Cage bounded across it, coating the ladies.
“Oh my God,” Carley said, “your dog is too much fun.” She instinctively wiped the sand off her arms and legs.
Jeremy sat down, with Matt right behind him. “Cage, come on, boy. Take a break. I’m really sorry about that.”
“No problem,” Gina said. “He’s so cute. Cage is an odd name. I hope he isn’t always caged.” Gina laughed at her own dim wit. She was already flirting as she flashed a grin Jeremy’s way.
He gave her the once-over. She had long dark hair, nice teeth, pretty hazel eyes, and a good figure.
She’ll go for top dollar, he thought. “Of course not—Cage is far too important to us to be confined like that. He has free reign of the house.”
Jeremy sized up Carley too while he sat on the blanket next to them. She had smooth shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes. Deep dimples popped on her cheeks when she smiled. Her skin was flawless.
“Do you brothers live together?” Carley asked.
“Yeah, sure do, in a high-rise over there.” Matt pointed toward a group of tall condos a few blocks in from Lakeshore Drive.
“Wow, that’s so cool.”
Matt inched closer to Carley. “Where do you ladies live?”
“We live in Riverwest. We’re best friends and roommates.”
“How about a beer?” Jeremy asked. He opened the cooler and pulled out four of them before Carley and Gina had time to respond. “Where are your boyfriends? Ladies as beautiful as you two must have guys lining up to take you out.”
They laughed. “School is more important right now. There’s plenty of time for a serious relationship later,” Gina said.
“So, what are you both—eighteen?” Matt asked to confirm their ages. “Maybe we should have asked before offering you a beer.”
Hmm… that was smooth, bro, Jeremy thought as he gave Matt a subtle wink.
Carley laughed. “I’m twenty, and Gina is twenty-one.”
“Nice age. Perfect in fact.” Jeremy glanced at Matt again and raised his right brow.
Chapter 12
I looked at the time on our rental car’s dashboard. Three o’clock came and went, and our flight back to Milwaukee was at six. We’d struck out with the tattoo parlor where Reanne worked and at Boomers Bar. Mrs. Orth had been pretty thorough when she and her husband interviewed people at all of the plac
es Reanne frequented. Everyone told us the same thing they had told the couple—Reanne disappeared without a trace. She never mentioned to anyone, including the friends we spoke with, that she had plans to leave town. The last communication she had was with her best friend, Lacy Meeker, then Reanne vanished. We interviewed Lacy after visiting the tattoo parlor and Boomers. She showed us the last text she’d ever received from Reanne, which said that she was going to the lake to chill out and asked Lacy to meet her there. The text showed the message came in at four thirty that day.
“That’s where her car was found with the flat tire the next day,” Lacy said. “She wanted me to meet her, but I had to work. Nobody ever saw her after that.”
I wrote the information down. Lacy said she couldn’t think of anyone that had a problem with Reanne—she had no enemies.
I asked her if any of their friends were missing other than Reanne. Maybe somebody she was acquainted with abducted her. As far as Lacy knew, everyone Reanne ever hung out with was still in Grand Forks.
Jack and I thanked her and left our cards. We got in the rental car and drove away.
“Are you hungry?” Jack asked. “My stomach is doing some serious growling.”
“Yeah, I guess. Take your pick. There are plenty of restaurants around here.”
Jack turned in at a twenty-four-hour diner, parked, and we walked in. The place was crowded for midafternoon. That told me the food was probably good, even though I usually thought of food as nothing more than sustenance—something that kept me alive. I never craved anything in particular, except maybe a chocolate bar slathered in goo and nuts.
The hostess seated us at a dark red vinyl-covered booth. The seats were cracked with wear, but the decor was pleasant. I opened the oversized menu and chose a turkey club. Jack took his time and browsed every page. He finally decided on the steak sandwich on sourdough bread with a side of waffle fries. The waitress brought our waters and filled our coffee cups. She took our order and left.