“I initiated recon soon after my arrival. I put a watch on Dixon’s house and compound operation. Nothing, not a thing! No Duke and no pickup. Not even one person visited the compound or the gun range. Over a two day period, not one person. I had a giant goose egg to show for my time,” Kuhl said.
“Sounds like he’s on the lam,” I said.
“How about Minnie, was she home?” Anna asked.
“Just by observing, I couldn’t be sure. Consequently, I had to get creative,” Kuhl said. “The next morning, I went to Dixon’s house with my van, a tool bag, and a phony work order for her phone. A skinny little woman answered the door, and I laid it on her thick. I tapped the phone line and placed a bug on her coffee table. She sat on the living room sofa and watched while I worked on her phone.”
“She didn’t question the work?” Anna asked.
Kuhl leaned back in the tub chair and gestured by throwing his arms open wide, “If it’s free they never do. I told her there was a problem with the phone lines in the area, and service tech’s throughout the county we’re making sure all the home lines were clear.”
“She bought that?” Anna said.
“I think she had eyes for me,” Kuhl jested.
“When you’re over yourself, maybe you can proceed with the SitRep,” Anna politely suggested.
Kuhl made a lopsided grin, “When I completed the install at the house, I was satisfied Duke wasn’t home or going to be home,”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Because she invited me back for a late dinner.”
“Jeez,” I moaned. “You must have gotten the wrong house. That’s not like Minnie.”
“Later in the evening, I slipped back–”
“Whoa buddy, don’t know if I want to hear any more of this,” I said.
“Let him talk,” Anna said. “It’s starting to get interesting.”
I looked at Anna with a frown.
“As I was saying, I slipped back into the compound and dropped a couple ears in the place. Since then, here’s what I can tell you. I haven’t picked up on any unusual noises or seen anyone at the compound. Duke hasn’t been to his house during the recon. I recorded all phone calls in and out, and there weren’t many. No calls referenced Duke, and there were none placed to or received from him. There is something unnatural going on there.”
“Sounds like a dead end,” I said.
“It’s more of a blind alley than a dead end. They are working together. She knows where he is, and she wasn’t worried he was going to drop in on her when she invited me over.”
“Minnie’s IQ has dropped in my estimation if she thinks you’re a catch, buddy,” I said.
“Okay,” Anna said, “Minnie has involvement on some level, that’s clear. Where do we put her in the project?”
I butted in, “Minnie’s not part of the equation here.”
“How do you figure?” Kuhl asked.
“My take—she’s a victim of this tragedy too,” I said. “She’s gotten herself mixed up in this mess involuntarily. He’s given her a song and dance about what happened to the girl, and told her to keep her mouth shut. She follows his orders to the letter, so it looks like she’s running cover for him. Remember, Minnie thinks she loves this bum, and she’ll do anything for him.”
Eyebrows lifted as the team shared glances. I hadn’t been overly convincing.
“Would you say she loved him to the extent she would cover up a murder for him?” Anna asked.
“Like I said—unintentionally—yes. But, I don’t think you could convince her he’s a murderer.”
“And if she did know?” Anna persisted.
“If she’s the caller, I’ll take it into consideration. I don’t think she’s capable of making the right decision with a situation like that,” I said.
“We can’t rule her out then,” Anna insisted.
Anna was right. I found myself not wanting to believe that anyone treated as badly as Minnie might be part of a cover-up. It was unfathomable. Still, her behavior toward Kuhl didn’t make sense. He wasn’t that irresistible.
“Let’s leave her out of it. I see her as naïve, and not a guilty party to the kidnapping, abuse, and murder of the girl. I’ll review the situation if more comes to light,” I said.
The reaction was cold and predictable. Finally, after a few moments, Kuhl continued. “Duke had a lot of irons in the fire. He was a truck driver by trade, head of the local Vigilance Committee, President of the Missouri Alliance, gun range owner, operator, and survival instructor. He was a busy man and a little old school. He either didn’t know how or didn’t like the computerization of his records. He had paper trails for those irons, and receipts sorted into the files. He was very detailed.”
“Alright, that’s good to know. Duke was a good business man,” I said.
“That’s right. All his paperwork is in order,” Kuhl said.
“Spit it out. You’re beating a dead horse,” I said.
“Most of what I found related to the gun range. One folder caught my attention, his fighting tactics, and survival skills course. Inside the folder with the receipts were pre-registration forms, contracts with attendees, and—” Kuhl waited for Anna and me to fill in the word he was leading us to say. We hit the same wavelength simultaneously, “Names.”
“That’s right—names.” Kuhl pulled a folder from the small leather satchel that had accompanied him. He flashed the tops of a few forms as he’d described what they were then neatly laid the file on the coffee table.
Anna hadn’t meant to reinjure me when she bumped me out of the way as she took possession of the folders, but a sharp pain coursed through my rib cage. I sat back and let her dig in; she’d include me eventually. I was the leader.
Kuhl sat quietly and watched until Anna abruptly stopped her review. Anna validated what Kuhl had discovered. She winked at Kuhl and said, “These three here are Alaskans.”
“Check the dates,” Kuhl said.
“I already have. They were registered to attend class at Dixon’s four weeks ago,” Anna said.
I piped up, “They were still here a few days ago too. I can vouch for that,”
Anna looked in my direction and read the names off of the registration forms, “Brady Woolf, Jake Boury, Hayden Leigh.”
I gave a casual shrug at the names. Etched in my memory were the three guys I remembered as Flattop, Pug, and Ponytail. Anna waited for me to weigh in on what she’d read off. “Duke didn’t introduce us formally,” I said.
Kuhl added one more piece of fuel to the fire, “In Dixon’s folders was a folder for the Vigilance Committee. An open record makes them less secretive, but I suppose any shenanigans are not recorded. I did, however, find in the meeting minutes where the three Alaskans showed up as members-at-large and attended a meeting at the compound while they were here.”
“What do we know about the Vigilance Committee?” Anna asked.
“They advertise themselves as a friendly Neighborhood Watch Association whose members keep an eye out for crime and report it to the appropriate authorities. That’s the aboveboard version. From their mission statement and articles of belief, they have all the hallmarks of a conservative movement with core family values and work ethics. That’s the face they present to the public. I would venture to say, they’re all respected pillars of the community too. I imagine the group is very attractive to the locals,” I said.
“The Vigilance Committee meeting notes that I briefly scanned tells a different tale,” Kuhl said. “They are united by a common conviction in their supremacy to rule. They blatantly profess intimidation, terror, and violence as justified when it’s in the best interest of their destiny as a whole. They are Aryan or Ku Klux Klan like, perhaps an offshoot. They call themselves simply VC. On their paperwork, they don’t display any Christian symbols or profess any religious affiliation. I think that eliminates them from affiliation with the Klan. More like homegrown vigilantes. The Alliance might act as a front for the VC,”
Kuhl said.
“Okay, Anna, here’s the question. Might these guys be a white supremacy organization? Evidently it’s difficult to separate the membership of the Alliance from the Vigilance Committee. Maybe there is no separation. The Alliance may be a recruitment tool. They’ve shaped a worldview where nothing is what it appears to be. They’ve created the need for a pseudo-military apocalyptic army to survive the future. They seem to be effective attracting the locals. Let’s work it,” I said.
“I don’t want to sound too radical, but this might end up a large-scale project. Of course, that depends primarily on what we uncover about the individual actions of each member,” Kuhl said.
Anna worked the names Kuhl provided through the power of the Internet. We needed positive identification on each person and any available background. Kuhl had hung tight for another hour before he cut out.
“I need to run additional reconnaissance,” Kuhl said.
As he was leaving, I said, “Stay out of Minnie’s bedroom. There’s nothing there for you.”
He smiled, which he didn’t often do and said, “Beg to differ with you, buddy.”
The lack of contact between Duke and Minnie was perplexing. Knowing Duke barely let Minnie out of his sight, it was a red flag that had to be investigated. As usual, we’d managed to create more questions than find answers, but it was the only way forward.
Chapter 11
“I am part of the power which forever wills evil and forever works good.”
—Mikhail Bulgakov
In the darkness of the room, it caught my eye. I’d awakened before dawn to the reddish hue of the alarm clock’s neon display. Barely five in the morning sounded like a good time to start my morning routine, but an unexpected issue arose. I’d fallen asleep during the evening while Anna continued to work on the files well into the night. Had Anna not fallen asleep next to me, I would have started my routine early. I could have aroused her if I desired, but instead I chose to relax in this appealing setting she’d placed me.
At eight o’clock we officially started our morning together with a cup of extra strong Java. Nurse Anna looked out for my best interests and stuck a yogurt in my face. “Eat.” Her tone was commanding. I found Anna provocative and alluring with her assertiveness and power. I mused on the many attributes of her desirability.
“What’s on the agenda?” Anna asked.
Finally, I thought, my cohorts have asked me to step in and provide the needed leadership. “Let’s pool our Intel, evaluate the data, and execute a strategy. Let’s table-top the Intel. Sweetie, this is your forte. You analyze and process quicker than anyone I know.”
Anna smiled. I wasn’t putting anything on her she didn’t already want to do and was knee deep in as well. For my ego’s sake, she let me sound bossy as if I were in charge—I appreciated the gesture. Unlike my façade as a reporter, Anna had an active career in journalism. She’d developed over the years in the writing business many friends and professional resources. Anna placed a call to a friend she referred to only as Marla, who operated an investigative database service in Portland, Oregon. Many times in the past, Anna had utilized Marla for background facts with her human interest articles. Her request would not be unusual or a reason for concern. The service wasn’t free, but it was discreet. Anna gave Marla the information garnered from the pre-registration forms of the men in question and waited for a callback.
Two hours later, Marla was back on the phone with Anna. I moved close to where Anna sat scribbling notes on the yellow legal pad she kept close by. Waiting to be briefed on the call was one option, but so was eavesdropping on the conversation. I looked over Anna’s shoulder as she jotted notes. One note read, “All three check out.” Under that Anna had written, “Names legit. Alaska residents.” From there, the notes became indiscernible. Later, Anna translated her chicken scratch into the parameters of the search.
“Depending on who the person is, the database records show everything from professional licenses to criminal records.”
“The gamut.”
“We have some good hits in property records, addresses, and assets that will be particularly useful.”
Anna arranged four folders on the table, one for each of our project targets. No names or labels distinguished one from the other. It wasn’t necessary. The target list was short. Anna placed the pre-registration forms in the folders and drafted the appropriate notes for each person on our list. When she’d finished, she addressed the folders individually by their initials.
“We have some discrepancies to sort out,” Anna said. “On their registration forms, they listed a Glennallen post office address, but they have different residential addresses.”
“What about the training camp address?”
“It’s a post office box too.”
“With their apocalyptic mindset, paranoia might’ve driven them to hide from society as much as possible. I suspect the post office box served to disguise their locations.”
“Records for last year showed Leigh and Boury with Anchorage residences, and Woolf with property in Moose Pass.”
“What about specific brushes with the law?”
“They have records, but nothing major on Leigh or Boury. Woolf was one of the men charged that was never prosecuted in the Glennallen conspiracy case, but there is something of interest here. Hayden Leigh has a 1990 Ford motorhome registered in his name.”
“What are you thinking? These clowns drove here from Alaska with the girl on board? How’d they get across the border with her?”
“I’m sure it’s possible. The Canadian border is very porous.”
Anna was right. Over the last year and a half since the World Trade Center attack, border crossing security measures had tightened up. But tourism was still big money in Alaska and the remote Canadian provinces. With the world becoming increasingly dangerous for westerners, Alaska tourism had boomed. Every day, by the droves, motorhomes crossed the border. Economics coupled with low threat levels made it an attractive journey.
“Anything on employment?”
Anna pointed to a few references she’d written down. “Numerous construction type jobs. All three had employment in the past year. With the type of work they do, they might be working under the table too. That would explain how they’ve gotten by during extended periods of time without recordable income.”
Kuhl telephoned Anna late in the evening. He was inbound. When he knocked, I let him in, and we kicked off the powwow. Anna presented her research followed by Kuhl, “I intercepted a brief call from Duke today. It wasn’t the type of casual conversation a husband and wife usually share.” Kuhl removed his ball cap, placing it flat on the bed nearest the tub chair where he was seated. “He told Minnie he was in BC and still had two more days of travel before he arrived.”
Anna slapped the coffee table with the palm of her hand which was a departure from her ladylike presentation and leaned forward in the chair. “Ahh, we were right! He is with the Alaskan trio on his way north!”
“BC is British Columbia?” I asked.
“Has to be,” said Kuhl.
“I can tell you this for certain; the call didn’t take Minnie by surprise. She was aware he was traveling, and I’ll bet she knows where he’s going. Whatever their plans I can guarantee you this; those two had conferred before he lit out. Not once, did he have to explain anything to her. She apparently knows what he’s doing.”
A long moment of reflection followed. I surmised we’d all come to the same conclusion. “All right, are we ready to wrap up here?” Anna asked.
“I could talk with Minnie before we follow Duke north. Perhaps she can be persuaded to tell me what she knows,” Kuhl said.
As lead Palatini on the project, it was my call. Kuhl brought up a viable reason to look closer into Minnie’s involvement. I’d come to know Minnie on a personal level. Whatever she’d gotten herself into was driven by misguided love. I didn’t expect the others to see it the same way. “Leave her out of it. I think she�
��s been through enough.”
All eyes were on me, and they weren’t smiling eyes. “Listen up,” I said. “If it turns out she is involved with the girls murder, I’ll take care of it.” The question now was whether or not they trusted me as a man of my word.
Kuhl picked his hat up from the bed and stood to his feet. “Let’s pack it in.”
“We need to move our base out of the area, I’d suggest we use Portland and plan our trip to Alaska,” Anna said.
“Do it,” I replied.
We jumped through hoops preparing for our departure. Pulling up stakes in twenty-four hours wasn’t easy. Anna made flight arrangements while I called Max and briefed him. Kuhl and Anna surprised me with a tow dolly for the Avenger. Once we had it loaded on the dolly, Kuhl strapped the ratchets tight on the dolly and hooked up the security chains. “Do you need anything from the car?” Kuhl asked.
“Already done,” I said.
Kuhl cloaked the Avenger with a car cover he’d bought and cinched it tight. “There,” he said. “No one can see it.”
We set a tentative plan for daily check-ins with Anna and said our good-byes to her. Kuhl expected the trip to take us three or four days to cover the two-thousand miles to Portland. Anna would be there in a matter of hours and would work out our Alaska travel plans.
My ribs were still tender, and my inner ear rang non-stop, but overall I considered my recovery to have taken leaps and bounds over the past few days.
Kuhl and I traveled quietly with little conversation for the first leg of the trip. As night crept in, Kuhl mentioned he was hungry and asked what I wanted to try eating. We saw a line of trucks parked at a greasy spoon just off the highway. “That looks good,” I said. We hung a right at the next exit and worked our way back to the diner.
It had been a couple weeks since I’d eaten a real meal. If I never saw another cup of yogurt, it would be too soon. As we entered, we scanned the diner to locate a suitable seating arrangement. The empty booth at one end of the joint was the best option. It wasn’t ideal, but Kuhl could effectively cover my back while we ate.
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