by C. M. Sutter
“She’s very beautiful.” Mr. Patel leaned in closely and looked her over. “Yes, Mr. Kumar will be pleased, even more than with the other girl. Sorry to hear of her untimely death.”
Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, sometimes bad things happen. Anyway, here she is. How do you want to do this? Do you have restraints?”
“You mentioned a drug in your email.”
Matt pulled the syringe out of his pocket. “Here it is. Xylazine—are you familiar with it?”
“Aah… yes, we’ve used that before when it became necessary. I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if you went ahead with that. I don’t have any type of containment for her until we’re on the jet.”
“No problem. Jenna, do you want the prod first or just the needle? You’re going to get the needle anyway,” Matt said.
Jeremy zapped her as she sobbed into her shaking hands. “Better to just get that over with when she isn’t looking.” He opened the cage and sank the needle into her neck. There, she’s good to go. We’ll help you load her up.”
The three men lifted Jenna and placed her unconscious body into the back of the Explorer.
“Nice doing business with you,” Jeremy said. He handed Mr. Patel the syringe with the remaining Xylazine. He and Matt climbed into the van and watched as the Explorer drove away, creating a wake of dust particles from the driveway.
Chapter 47
I woke up, excited to get to work. We would finally begin our door-to-door interviews.
Over the last few days, I’d given myself an extra half hour to get showered and dressed. The doctor had instructed me to keep my foot dry, so I had to wrap it in plastic bags every time I showered. With my car keys back in my possession, I definitely felt as though I was making progress. Jack involuntarily returned my keys after listening to more pleading than he wanted to. I had to prove to him that I was capable of driving my own vehicle. Pressing the gas and brake pedals didn’t hurt. It was just that the large boot was clumsy to drive with. Nonetheless, I was thankful to be back behind the wheel, and I’d make it work. No complaints would come from me.
Wearing my cozy fleece bathrobe, I walked down the hallway, intending to grab a cup of coffee then get dressed. An unusual sound caught my ear as I came around the corner.
“You startled me, Sis. Why are you up so early?”
Amber sat in the kitchen, wearing her flannel pj’s and tapping her fingertips on the wooden tabletop.
I did a little shudder and cinched the belt of my robe tighter. The early morning air felt cool with the patio doors open. I reached in the upper cabinet for a coffee mug.
“Morning, Sis. Joey asked me if I wanted to go full-time for the rest of the summer. Would you mind? I really need to save as much money as possible before school starts in the fall. I’m sure I’ll be cutting back on my hours then.”
I pulled out a chair and sat at the table next to her. The steam wafted off my mug when I blew on my coffee and took a sip. “I understand, hon, and no, I don’t mind. School is important, and earning money is too. Hell, look how much I’m gone at the job, and you haven’t complained once. I appreciate it, Amber. Things will get easier once you’re settled in with your classes in the fall and when people stop getting murdered and kidnapped around here.” I smiled at her. “I’m so proud of you.” I got up and filled both of our cups. “Let’s call Dad tonight and talk to him. He’s due to come and visit, especially since we have a new house.”
Amber perked up. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll pick up Chicken Almond Ding and pot stickers for dinner.”
“Yum, I can’t wait.” I carried my coffee down the hall, hoping I wouldn’t spill any.
Amber called out after me. “Gimpy.”
I heard her giggle as I walked away.
An hour later as I passed the bank next door to the courthouse, I checked the time. I looked at that clock every day out of habit. I always made sure the time on the clock on the bank matched the one in my car. I turned left onto Schmidt Road at eight a.m. and pulled into the parking lot. Other than Clark, I was the first person to arrive from our team, as usual. There was no need to sit at my desk earlier than eight o’clock since the guys rarely did. Our desks were cleaned yesterday, and I was pretty proud at how organized the bull pen actually looked.
One by one they entered, with Clayton last. We went over a few minor details, grabbed our maps, and promised Clark we’d check in if anything important popped.
The lieutenant yelled out to me not to overdo it as we exited the bull pen through the gray steel door. Jack and Clayton each grabbed a set of cruiser keys.
“Geez, he sounds like my dad.”
“Clark cares about you, partner, just like the rest of us do.”
“Aww…shucks.” I held the handrail as I gingerly took the steps down to the parking lot.
“You’re a brat, Jade—just saying.”
“And I love you too.”
Since we had no idea of what we would find or who we would be speaking with, all of us wore exposed service weapons, and our badges were visible on chains around our necks. It was also protocol to keep vests in the trunk. We never knew when a circumstance would arise where they’d be needed.
The four of us climbed into two unmarked black cruisers that were parked in assigned spaces next to each other. Jack got in behind the wheel, and I climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up. He led the way out of town. At the farthest end of the city limits, a gas station with an attached submarine sandwich shop sat on the right side of the road.
“What do you think of that place for lunch?” I asked as Jack sped by. “It shouldn’t be more than a ten-minute drive back this way from our locations. We can compare notes with Clayton and Billings then.”
“Yeah, sounds good. Give them a call to meet us there at noon if they aren’t in the middle of interviews.”
I called Billings and told him the plan.
At Wayfair and Highway 60, we turned left and drove the three miles to where Reanne was found. At that spot, we split off from Billings and Clayton. We’d head north, and they would go south.
Following a planned grid of the roads north to south and east to west made the most sense. We’d end the day just east of Division, a north-to-south road. We’d pick up the same pattern tomorrow, starting from the point where we left off. I’d check off every house we went to, make a note of whether anyone was home and whether we actually interviewed someone or not. We didn’t want to miss speaking to anybody. If we had to go back a second time, we would.
I pulled out the map and led the way. Deputies had already conducted face-to-face interviews at several houses on Wayfair on the day we found Reanne. Because we were following a precise grid, we’d interview everyone again, even if it was the second time around.
“You know, Jack, this is the best idea. Remember Brad said his grandpa bought their farm in the ’60s? Anyone who has lived in this area for a long time is going to be well aware of strangers moving in. There would likely be word among the coffee klatches that a once empty house is now rented out or sold. Checking with Realtors wouldn’t be a bad idea either.”
Jack nodded. “I agree. That would be a smart thing to do.”
I looked at the number of houses in the ten-mile radius marked out on our map. “There really aren’t a ton of houses since most of these places are farms. There’s more land than buildings.”
“Hopefully that will speed our interviews up.” Jack pulled into the first driveway on the left and parked.
Even though the families on this road had been interviewed, something might have sparked a recent memory with them because of the news reports. Our questions could ring a bell, especially now that we knew a white van was involved. I pulled myself out of the cruiser and walked alongside Jack to the front door.
An older woman wearing an apron tied around her waist answered the door on our second knock. The look on her face showed how surprised she was at seeing two armed officers standing on her porch. Her suspicion w
as evident as she peeked out from the barely open screen door. She looked us over carefully before she spoke.
“Can I help you?” she asked as she wiped her hands on the apron and looked down at my foot.
I smiled at her, hoping to ease her concerns. “Hello, ma’am, we’re detectives from the Washburn County Sheriff’s Department. How are you today?”
“Good.” She remained steadfast and didn’t open the door any farther.
Jack spoke up, “Ma’am, we’re wondering if we can have a minute of your time. We have a few questions about the body that was recently found south of here.”
“We already answered questions that day. My husband isn’t home, and we don’t know any more about it now than we did then. We just make sure to keep our doors locked.”
“Ma’am—”
She interrupted me before I got another word out. “The name is Gladys—Gladys and Ralph Knepprath.”
I nodded. “Is there any chance that you saw a white van passing by recently, specifically on that day?”
“Can’t say that I did, as I’m usually cooking—the kitchen faces the back.”
“Mrs. Knepprath, when your husband returns home, would you mind asking him about the white van? If something rings a bell with that, we’d really appreciate a phone call.” I handed her our cards, and we said goodbye.
The leather seat squeaked as I slid back into the car and carefully placed my booted foot inside. I wrote down the Kneppraths’ names next to the house number on the map. I included a note saying Gladys didn’t have anything new to tell us. We moved on to the next residence.
I compared the property we were approaching with the one on the map and made a check mark next to it. “Okay, pull into the driveway on the right,” I said. “After this place we’ll be turning left and going down the next road.”
Jack turned right into the short driveway and pulled up to the garage. The residence was just a country house, not a farm. There wasn’t much land to speak of or a barn on the property. We parked and exited the car. A young girl sat cross-legged on the sidewalk that led to the front door. She drew pictures on the cement with pastel chalk.
“Hi, sweetheart, is your mommy or daddy home?”
“Uh-huh.” She got up and raced to the screen door. “Mommy, there’s two people here.”
I smiled at her. “Thank you.”
A woman approached and opened the screen door. A towel was draped over her shoulder.
“Hi there, may I help you?”
She looked to be around thirty years old and had white-blond hair, just like the little girl.
“Hello, ma’am, my name is Sergeant Jade Monroe with the Washburn County Sheriff’s Department. This is my partner, Detective Jack Steele.”
She zeroed in on the badges that hung from our necks then extended her hand.
“If you don’t mind, ma’am, we have a few questions for you. We’re canvassing the area to gather information about the neighborhood and the residents.”
“Is there a problem out here? It seems pretty normal to me, other than that poor—”
I interrupted. “May we?” I didn’t want to bring up the dead woman in the ditch in front of her daughter. I motioned toward the picnic table beneath a tree in the side yard.
“Of course, please. I’m sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is Linda Johnson. My little girl is Lucy.”
“Are you married, Linda?”
“Sure am.” She laughed and looked out in the distance. “My husband, Mike, is a long-haul truck driver. He should actually be back before long. He called about an hour ago and said I should pick him up at the station in town after lunch.”
“We won’t keep you long, ma’am.”
“Oh, no problem, what can I help you with?”
Jack spoke up, and I pulled out my notepad. “I realize the homes are few and far between out here, considering it’s mostly farmland, but how well do you know your neighbors?”
“Not that well. The ladies around here are mostly farm wives, late forties or older. We’ve only lived here for three years. This is our first home.”
I could see the pride on her face as she smiled.
“We like the open space and hope to build a pole shed soon where Mike can park his semi. That way he doesn’t have to leave it at the station whenever he comes home. We’ve got two acres here.”
“I understand,” Jack said. “Do you know of any new people in the area, say in the last few months? Or anyone that drives a white van?”
“No, can’t say that I do. The most communication we have with our neighbors is a wave when we drive by if they’re outside, and vice versa. As far as vehicles—most are tractors out this way.”
We handed her our cards, thanked her, and stood.
“If anything ever seems out of place or unusual for the area, please give us a call.”
“Sergeant?”
I turned. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Should I be worried about anything? I mean, Lucy and I are home alone much of the time.”
“No, Mrs. Johnson, I don’t think so. I’d suggest you be watchful of your surroundings, though, and keep your doors locked at night.”
“Maybe we should go inside, honey.” With her hand above her eyebrow to shield the sun, Linda scanned the neighboring fields and the road with a concerned look on her face. She took Lucy by the hand and went inside, closing the door behind her. I listened for it and heard the dead bolt turn.
I groaned. “Great, now she’s afraid to let her daughter play outside. I don’t want to scare people, but we can’t get too specific either.” We climbed back into the cruiser. “People do have TVs, and I’m sure they can put two and two together.” I glanced at Jack then back down at the map, where I crossed off the Johnson residence. The clock on the dashboard showed it was nearing twelve o’clock. “How about two more homes, then we’ll break for lunch?” I said.
“Yeah, fine by me. Just lead the way. You have the map.”
Nobody at the next two farmhouses answered the doors when we knocked. Tractors in the distance throwing up dust clouds told us the owners of these farms were likely at work—plowing the fields. Others could have been in the barns doing whatever they did in there, but I wasn’t going to walk into every building, looking for someone. We’d stick to people that answered their front doors.
We broke for lunch and met up with Billings and Clayton at the submarine sandwich shop. I was surprised at the number of people inside as we entered the restaurant. With an industrial park across the street, I imagined we’d found the lunch spot for most of those people. Clayton snagged the last available booth, and I scooted in to the side against the wall while Jack, Billings, and Clayton went up to the counter to place our orders.
I tore off bits of my sandwich and sipped my iced tea while Billings told us about their progress so far.
“We’ve gone to six houses but have only talked to four people. It seems like most of them are housewives that don’t really spend much time outdoors, unless they’re doing something in the garden. Nobody has mentioned seeing or hearing about new people in the area, white vans, or anything unusual beyond Reanne’s case.”
I leaned in across the booth with my hands folded under my chin as Billings gave us the rundown of their morning. Up to this point, our day wasn’t any different.
Jack stretched against the back of the booth and groaned. “I have a feeling these door-to-door interviews are going to be a waste of time.”
“It’s still something. We can’t just sit around and expect the bad guys to come to us. Come on. Let’s finish our lunch and get back out there.” I ate my sandwich and took my iced tea with me as we headed back to our cruisers. I popped three ibuprofen into my mouth and swallowed them with my tea.
“What’s bothering you, your foot or your ribs?” Jack’s eyebrows furrowed as he gave me a look of concern. “I can take you back to the station if you want.”
“My foot hurts a little, but it’s nothing I can�
��t handle. I’ll be fine.” I looked down at the map and gave Jack directions to the next road on our grid.
The farther out we got from where Reanne was found, the less that people knew anything had taken place.
We reached an intersection with a four-way stop sign. To our right was a train track with a trestle bridge above the river. Six old storefronts stood side by side, dangerously close to the tracks. Across the street, nearly hidden from view, was a fieldstone church. The steeple pierced through the treetops, and a long-forgotten cemetery stood next to it. Many of the limestone grave markers had seen better days. Broken edges and bottoms that were sinking into the ground gave the cemetery a sad, forgotten appearance. Thick grape ivy climbed the wrought-iron gate above the entrance, nearly covering the name—Peaceful Home Cemetery.
“Humph—I’ll be darned.”
“What?”
“This is Hamilton. I’ve never been here, but I’ve read about this little burg. This place is beautiful.”
“There’s nothing really here, Jade. A couple of run-down, ancient buildings, a bridge over the river, and the railroad tracks. What’s so beautiful about it?”
I smirked at Jack’s ignorance. “It’s historic.”
“So, suddenly you’re a history buff?”
“I’ve always been, but I guess we never had a reason to talk about it.” I pointed at a building next to the river. “See that place? It looks like an old grist mill.” I checked our map again and found Hamilton. “Jack, we’re smack in the middle of our grid. See that old timers’ bar just beyond the tracks? Looks pretty crowded for one o’clock on a Thursday, doesn’t it?”
He looked at the seven cars and two tractors parked out front and shrugged. “I guess so. Why?”
“I bet there are old farmers and longtime residents sitting in there, enjoying a beer and exchanging the latest gossip. Let’s go strike up a conversation with them. Somebody has to know something. This is their neck of the woods.”
“Yeah, okay.” Jack pulled into the gravel parking lot that almost reached the front door. That made life easier on me and my throbbing foot.