by C. M. Sutter
We got out of the cruiser and stepped over the threshold of the more than one-hundred-year-old establishment. I would have loved to hear stories of the place, but that would have to wait for another time. An old oak bar spanned the length of the room. It looked to be original to the building. Ten barstools, eight of them occupied by patrons, lined the front of the bar. A popcorn machine sat on the back bar, along with dozens of bottles of assorted liquor. Four empty wooden tables on the wide pine-plank floor took up the rest of the room. Several pinball machines that looked to be from the eighties lined the outer walls. Country music played in the background, and every head turned toward us when we crossed the threshold.
I nodded when we walked in. A few farmers nodded back, and others elbowed each other and chuckled.
“Now what did you do, Elton? The law is here.” A middle-aged man wearing bib overalls and a baseball cap grinned then laughed out loud.
“I didn’t do shit, Bob, but I just might.”
They both laughed again.
“Afternoon, officers,” the bartender said.
“Do you mind?” I asked as Jack and I took seats on the two empty stools next to the man they called Elton.
“Not one bit,” he said, grinning. “I haven’t have a pretty girl sitting this close to me since 1998.”
I noticed he had a gold front tooth. I grinned back.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
“Two root beers,” Jack said.
The bartender nodded. “Coming right up.” He wiped the bar top with a wet rag and placed two cardboard coasters in front of us. “What brings you two out this way?”
“Looking for information,” I said.
That statement perked up ears, and everyone at the bar looked over their neighbor’s shoulder toward us.
“What do you need to know?” Elton asked. “We know everything, so it looks like you came to the right place.”
The group chuckled again.
I laughed with them. “Good—that’s what I’m counting on.”
Over the course of the next hour, we learned more than we cared to about farming, plowing, and milking cows. After gleaning all of that useless information, we did find out a farm had recently sold on Highview Drive, another on Fairfield Lane, and a farm on Division Road had been rented out a few months ago. I gave Jack a look that we both knew well. We were interested in hearing more about the rental.
“Do any of you gentlemen have details about the farm that was rented?” I asked.
“Yep, a bit.” The third man down the bar spoke up.
Jack peered around the shoulders of Elton and the man sitting next to him.
“Your name, sir?”
“I’m Leroy Headly. Live just down the road from here.” He pointed at the back bar, meaning outside and west of Hamilton.
I wrote that down.
“Could you give us a bit more information?” Jack asked.
I flipped the page in my notepad, ready and waiting for something to pop that would help us.
“Sure can. The farm belongs to old man Miller—John Miller, to be exact. He moved into an assisted living apartment last year in Grafton, after Sarah, his wife, passed on. His farm has been empty for at least a year. Isn’t that right, boys?”
They all mumbled and nodded.
“Please, go on,” I said then continued writing.
“Joe Laufton owns about seventy acres but wanted more land to plant in corn. He recently inquired about leasing the empty fields, but John’s son-in-law told them they had just rented the property out. The tenants wanted the land rights included in the rent.”
“That’s very interesting. Do any of you know the tenants?”
Leroy glanced down the length of the bar. Everyone shook their heads. “Guess not.”
“Okay, then. That information is very helpful, and the farm is on Division?”
Leroy nodded. “Yep, just after the second pond on the east side of the road. Long driveway and empty fields—you can’t miss it.”
We got directions and descriptions of the sold properties as well. We left our contact information, and by the time Jack and I walked out, we were fast friends with the farmers and bartender at Hamilton Inn Bar and Grill.
We climbed back into the cruiser. I pulled out the map from the door pocket and looked for the roads I had written down in my notepad. I circled each one, and even though we were going off course, I wanted to check them out next. The properties were still within our grid, and the farm on Division definitely piqued our curiosity.
Chapter 48
“The guy from Tennessee should be here in a half hour. After Liz is gone, it’s only Megan left, and she’s going to get lonely in the basement with nobody to talk to.” Jeremy smirked and turned the crank on the handheld can opener. Chicken noodle soup would suffice for now. He carefully pulled off the sharp metal lid and poured the soup into a bowl. After placing it on the glass carousel in the microwave, he set the timer for two minutes and pressed the start button.
Matt chuckled. “Maybe Cage can hang out downstairs and keep her company until she leaves. I’m sure she’ll be gone within a week’s time. After that, we can start packing. Why are you eating now?”
“Because I’m hungry. As soon as Mr. Adamson leaves, we’ll go to town and buy groceries.” Jeremy tipped his left arm and looked at his watch. “Liz should be done in the bathroom by now. Want to check on her?”
“Yeah, sure.” Matt went downstairs and banged on the bathroom door. “Are you done?”
A meek-sounding yes came from inside the room. He unlocked the door, turned the knob, and pulled it toward him. Liz wore a clean dress, and her hair was shiny and secured with a rubber band at the nape of her neck. Matt gave her back the original pair of shoes she had worn when they kidnapped her months ago.
“Did you brush your teeth?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, get back in your box for now. The buyer will be here soon.” He pushed Liz forward with the prod touching her back.
She complied and crawled into the cage.
Matt found Jeremy filling out the notebook when he returned to the kitchen. “Last-minute entries?”
“Yeah, just making sure I’m up to date with everything. I have each name, description, the amount they sold for, and where each girl went.” He closed the book, crumbled a handful of crackers, and dropped them into his soup. When the temperature was tolerable, he ate it.
The sound of gravel crunching under tires alerted them. Matt ran to the living room window and turned the wand on the blinds. He peered out at the driveway, waiting for the vehicle to get closer. “What kind of car does he have?”
“A green SUV with Tennessee plates.”
“Yep, it’s him.”
Jeremy put his notebook in the drawer and the empty soup bowl in the sink. “Bring her up through the cellar doors. I’ll show him where to back up his vehicle. Don’t forget the Xylazine.” Jeremy went out through the front porch, and the screen door slammed at his back. He directed Mr. Adamson in and had him back up to the cellar doors. With the key in hand, Jeremy unlocked the outer doors and swung them open. They bounced against the dirt.
Jeremy gave Mr. Adamson the once-over when he exited the SUV. He looked to be sixty years old, thin, almost frail, but snarly nonetheless. The few wisps of hair left on his head were tinted a light shade of gray. His clothes looked disheveled. Jeremy chalked that up to a full day of driving and sleeping in his vehicle. The end of the cigarette pinched between his lips glowed orange in the light breeze. He shook Jeremy’s hand, made small talk, and waited for Matt to bring Liz up the cellar steps.
“Well, aren’t you the pretty one,” he said. A wide grin spread across his face when he saw Liz. He looked her up and down slowly. “Oh yeah, I’m going to have a damn good time with you.”
Liz spat at him. He slapped her across the face, almost knocking her over.
“Apparently somebody has to teach this bitch who’s the boss.” He wip
ed his cheek and grinned. “Feisty little tramp, aren’t you?”
Liz glared at Matt and Jeremy. Her face welted bright red. “I hate you. I wish both of you were dead.” She turned her head and looked away.
“Okay, then, that’s it. Enjoy Tennessee. It’s been a riot, Liz,” Jeremy said.
Mr. Adamson opened the back doors and shoved her into the cage, then he padlocked it.
“Do you want the Xylazine for the road?” Matt asked.
“Nope, I’m good. I know how to handle these girls. This isn’t my first rodeo, young man. I’ve got a prod inside, and I like to keep them awake. They’re a lot more fun when they’re conscious.” He laughed out loud and slammed the back doors. “Nice meeting you boys.” He climbed into the SUV and drove away. His tires kicked up small gravel stones as he exited the driveway and turned left.
“That guy was definitely a freak,” Jeremy said.
Matt nodded and cracked his knuckles. “Come on. Let’s put a grocery list together and go to the store.”
Twenty minutes later, Jeremy and Matt climbed into the van and headed to town. The afternoon sun was right at eye level, causing both of the brothers to squint. Jeremy dropped his visor, rearranged himself in the seat, and put on his sunglasses.
Matt spun in his seat and craned his neck, trying to look out Jeremy’s side mirror.
“What the hell are you doing? What did you see?” Jeremy adjusted the mirror and looked back.
“I swear it looked like an unmarked black police car. It had a spotlight next to the outside mirror, and extra antennas. There were two people inside. I wonder what they’re doing way out here.”
“Don’t know, but keep your eyes peeled to make sure they don’t turn around.”
“I don’t think they noticed us behind this milk truck, but I’ll keep a close watch. Good thing we painted the van.”
Chapter 49
Jack drove up Division Road as I called out the directions. “I think it’s the next house on the right. There are empty fields on either side of the driveway, just like Leroy said. This has to be the place. I saw something that looked like a dried-up pond back there.”
Jack ducked down and craned his neck, looking through the passenger window as he slowed the cruiser.
“What do you think?” I asked.
Wind gusts blew and kicked up small dust devils in the vacant fields ahead. I watched them spin. Their power mesmerized me. Dust devils, fire devils, and water funnels—the spinning entities were an unusual force of nature, and I considered myself lucky when I saw them.
“Yeah… it’s probably the right place.”
Jack turned in and drove down the long gravel driveway that took us to a farmhouse in need of a fresh coat of paint. The barn wore a similar appearance. Jack pulled up to the driveway’s end, twenty feet from the sidewalk that led to the screened porch. We exited the car and walked across the dusty driveway. I knocked several times when we reached the porch, but nobody answered.
I looked around. “No vehicles. No farm equipment either.” I pressed my face against the screen. “There’s a pair of dusty work boots next to the front door.”
Jack kicked the dirt in the driveway. “At least whoever lives here takes their shoes off before going inside. I see tire-track patterns, and they look fresh. Somebody was here earlier.”
I carefully stepped down from the porch to the sidewalk and walked over to the burning barrel. I stuck my nose in and took a deep breath. “This was recently lit. It still smells like smoke.” I picked up a foot-long stick and poked at the rubble inside, looking for something, even though I didn’t know what.
“Maybe this isn’t the right place. It seems more like the kind of homestead that belongs to an elderly farmer and his wife. You know the type—settled in and not wanting for much. The old couple could be in town at a church bingo game or something like that.”
“It does belong to an elderly couple—or did, according to Leroy. Old man Miller, remember? And what do you mean, I know the type?” I cocked my head and gave Jack a questioning stare. “I’ve never talked to a farmer in my life until Brad found Reanne.”
“Really? I didn’t know you were that sheltered.”
I continued to walk the property and turned left at the end of the porch.
“Hey, take a look at this.”
Jack rounded the corner just beyond the cellar doors. He stopped, stared, and rubbed his chin.
“Hmm… looks like an outline.”
I knelt down and pulled out a few blades of grass. I studied them and rubbed them between my fingers. “Black paint.” I backed up and stared at the outline again. “Looks like something about the size of a vehicle. Let’s check the barn.”
Jack checked the distance then looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed. “You still doing okay with that foot?”
I dismissed his question with a hand wave. “I’ve been eating ibuprofen all day.” I jerked my head toward the barn. “Come on.”
Jack yanked hard on the double doors when we reached the building. They creaked and resisted but opened grudgingly.
“Do you see a light switch?” I asked.
“No. I can barely see my own hand, but there isn’t a vehicle in here, if that’s what we’re looking for.”
“Should we come back with a warrant or just come back and hope to catch someone at home?”
“No judge is ever going to give us a warrant without probable cause.”
“I guess not. This is going to be the first place we come back to tomorrow.”
“People do have jobs, Jade. They could be at work.”
“Whatever—try the screen door again.”
Jack shouldered the barn doors closed, and we walked to the sidewalk for the second time. He gave the screen door a pull—it was unlocked. We entered the porch and gave it a methodical side-to-side once-over—nothing unusual stood out. With his knuckles pressed against the inner door, Jack rapped on the glass. No answer. He slowly turned the knob, but the door was locked.
“Darn it. Where the heck are they?” I asked the rhetorical question not really expecting an answer. “Isn’t it too early to go out for dinner?”
Jack spoke up with his typical sarcastic wit, “Not unless they’re still at church, enjoying the after-bingo buffet.”
I huffed and climbed back into the cruiser. North Bend was fifteen minutes up the highway. I checked my watch—four o’clock.
Billings and Clayton’s car was already sitting in the parking lot when we pulled in at the sheriff’s department. Either they struck out too or they had something important to report. We went inside. Clayton stood at the coffee station, scooping grounds into the paper filter. He filled the carafe to the top with water. Billings was leaning against the doorway of the lieutenant’s office.
Clark lifted his head and set his pen down when we walked in. “Here they are. Let’s gather in the bull pen, guys. Hopefully you four have something to report. How’s the foot, Monroe?”
“I’m good, boss. Ibuprofen helps.” I turned toward Billings as I plopped down at my desk. “You guys just get back?”
“Yeah, five minutes ago.”
Everyone sat at their respective desks. The lieutenant pulled the roller chair out of his office and got comfortable next to me.
“Coffee ready?” Jack asked as he began to stand.
I glanced at the carafe. It was nearly full. “Give it a few more minutes. It will beep.”
Clark spoke up, “Okay, you two first.” He nodded at Clayton and Billings. “Learn anything, and how many houses did you have time to hit?” He drummed the side of my desk with his knuckles.
Billings answered, “We stopped at six homes and spoke to four residents. Nobody was home at the other two places.”
“Okay, not bad. Did anything pop?” Clark leaned back in his chair—it creaked in protest.
Billings absentmindedly rubbed his forehead. “Two families didn’t know of anything unusual going on. They said they were longtime residents and wer
e acquainted with everyone in the general area. Nothing out of the ordinary has given them reason to be concerned. One family complained of teenagers’ toilet papering their maple trees. The last family had information that sounded interesting. It’s on your side of the grid, Jade, so you and Jack are welcome to it.”
“Really?” My interest level increased. I leaned forward with my elbows on my desk and my chin resting on my fists. “What did they say?”
“Only that a couple of farms have sold in recent months. It might be something you want to check out.”
I exhaled slowly, almost feeling defeated. I was hoping for something I wasn’t already aware of. “Yeah, we heard about them. We’re checking them out tomorrow.” I opened my notepad that I had tossed on my desk. “Um… on Highview and Fairfield?”
Billings flipped the pages of his notepad until he got to that bit of information. “Yeah, looks like those are the places.”
I got up and filled five coffee cups. I jerked my head toward Jack to help. Since Billings and Clayton took their coffee black, I handed Jack those two cups to carry over while I doctored up the rest.
I talked while I prepared the coffee. “We started on Division Road after lunch. Kind of detoured off the normal route of the grid, I guess, but we were told about a rental in the area. A retired farmer named John Miller owns the place, and it’s been sitting empty for nearly a year, until recently. He’s in a retirement home in Grafton, and we intend to contact him for more information. Nobody was home at the farm we think is the rental. We were only given a description of the place, not an actual address. We did see an odd paint outline in the grass at the property, though. That piqued my curiosity.”
Clark sat up straight. “Really? That’s definitely something to follow up on.”
I nodded. “For sure, boss. That’s the first place we’re hitting in the morning. I want somebody to explain that paint to us.”
Jack took a sip of his coffee and told the lieutenant what we found out from the residents we did have a chance to speak with. It didn’t amount to much.