Clay was uncertain how to respond. “Stresses are different, but the stakes are still high. Like in this investigation. I’d like to bring you up to speed and pick your brain.”
“We can meet in our situation room. Follow me.” He tapped a code into a keypad by the door and held the door for Toni. Once in the hallway, Trent eased past her and took them to a small conference room.
One wall held a large flat-screen TV, and above it three smaller TVs were tuned to news programs. Computer stations ringed the walls below, and a long table took up the middle of the room. The remaining walls were covered by a map of the county and whiteboards.
“Nice set up.” Clay pulled out a chair for Toni.
She eyed him and chose a different chair. He almost laughed. She was so independent and out to prove she was one of the guys. She saw him helping with her chair—something his mother insisted all of her sons did—as a negative. He dropped into the one he’d pulled out.
Trent sat across from them. “Tell me how I can help.”
Clay met the man’s intense gaze. “You must know what went down at the high school last night.”
“I do, but no thanks to you calling in the feds before me.”
“Sorry. It’s my fault.” Toni smiled at Trent, and the sheriff’s tight expression relaxed a notch. “I work violent crimes for the Bureau, and I thought they were best able to handle the investigation.”
“It’s done.” He clenched his jaw and released it. “We reached a compromise. I’m taking lead on the murder, and your team is working the trafficking angle.”
Clay hadn’t heard this, but it made sense as the high school was in Trent’s jurisdiction. As such, the entire investigation fell under his command, but the FBI didn’t usually handle murders unless it was a serial killer. “You’re still using Dr. Dunbar at Veritas for that, right?”
“She’s finished recovering the body, so it only makes sense to have her analyze the bones.” He locked onto Clay’s gaze. “But I’ve reminded her of her contractual terms with the county not to disclose information to anyone but me.”
Clay clasped his hands under the table. “She reminded me of that as well.”
“Good. Then we’re all on the same page.”
“Has anything happened at the high school prior to this?”
“The usual issues with kids partying in the summer, but nothing in the last few months.”
“Because we were both summoned to the school,” Clay said, “we believe this is related to a human trafficking investigation we worked as a task force.”
“Tell me about that.”
Clay gave Trent the details on Hibbard. “Toni’s father was killed in an op that went sideways. We were trying to bring in Olin Kraus, Hibbard’s lieutenant, when Mr. Long arrived and inserted himself in the op by knocking on the suspect’s door. An unknown subject opened fire from a hidden location. Took Mr. Long and Kraus out. Long was a retired DEA agent, turned PI, and was in town visiting Toni.”
Trent raised an eyebrow and looked at Toni.
She shifted under the study. “I have no idea why he showed up or how he even knew where I was. Or maybe it was just a weird coincidence. One thing I do know is that my dad didn’t usually take vacations. Even when he retired from the DEA and went to work for his friend, Dad gave a new meaning to the word workaholic. I was typically the one who went to see him, so it looks like he had another reason to be in town.”
“Could it be work related, but he didn’t let his supervisor in on it?” Trent asked.
“I don’t think so,” Toni said. “I went to see Vance Danby after Dad died. Vance owns Danby Investigations in Virginia, where my dad worked after he retired. Vance said Dad’s caseload included three pending divorces and one cheating husband. Nothing like this and no connection to Kraus. I boxed up my dad’s personal things from his office, and I’ve been through it all a million times. Found nothing to help.”
Clay didn’t know how she could talk so matter-of-factly about her father’s death, but she was the ultimate professional, and she’d probably compartmentalized the loss like she’d done with her mother’s accident.
“Did your father know about your investigation?” Trent asked.
“I’d said I was part of a task force focused on human trafficking but never gave him details.”
Trent rested his hands on the table. “Not knowing what he was up to must be driving you crazy.”
“You have no idea,” she said, and for the first time in this interview, her tone confirmed that she was troubled. “It’s like one of those cases that you can’t close, only worse. Much worse.”
Trent shifted his focus to Clay. “And how does my agency fit in with this investigation?”
“We believed Hibbard was solely working out of Portland, but evidence from the school suggests we might be wrong,” Clay said. “We hope you can tell us if you have issues in the area with human trafficking.”
Trent pressed his hands flat on the table. “We have a problem, that’s for sure. Nothing like Portland, but it goes on. In fact, a tri-county task force made a bust a few days ago. Guy named Jason Rader was using social media to groom underage girls. He pretended to be a tech millionaire. Promised the girls a great lifestyle with him at the beach.”
Trent paused for a moment. “He’s the typical offender. White male, in the twenty-five to forty-five age range. Has strong computer skills. Good looking guy, and even in his thirties, he managed to suck the girls in. Two older men working with him pimped the girls out, insulating him from arrest until one of his girls came forward to report him. Social media evidence corroborates her story, so the DA is willing to roll the dice in court to take that scumbag off the streets.”
Clay glanced at Toni. “Sounds like Hibbard. Except he has more than two people working with him.”
“Did you learn anything else about Rader?” Toni asked.
“He had a boatload of cash at the beach house he was renting and no legal employment.” Trent leaned back. “I have to say, it’s very satisfying to rid the streets of a guy like him. Now we need to be sure he pays for each girl he conned and goes away for a long time. Problem is, he retained a high-powered attorney. Could make things more difficult.”
“Any way we can talk to him?” Toni asked.
Trent frowned, and Clay waited for him to say no. “Visiting hours are open to anyone.”
“Sure,” Clay said. “But he has to put us on his visitor list, and we need to be approved. That takes time. Time we don’t have. And even if we did get approved, he isn’t likely to agree to a visit from us.”
“He’s still in county lockup. Let me see what I can arrange.” Trent stood. “But don’t hold your breath. His lawyer might stand in your way.”
“We’d appreciate any help you can give,” Toni said.
“I’ll be right back.” Trent strode out of the room, his black boots squeaking on the tile floor.
“He seems like a stand-up guy.” Toni’s focus still lingered on the door where Trent had exited.
“That’s what Blake says, and if Blake approves, you know he’s topnotch.”
An older woman with silvery blond hair poked her head into the room. “I’m Lorraine, Sheriff Winfield’s assistant. Can I get you some coffee or something else to drink while you wait for him?”
“Not for me, but thanks,” Clay said.
Toni gave her a practiced smile. “I’m good too.”
Lorraine nodded. “Clay, since you work in the same building as Blake, could you tell him we miss him and say hi.”
“Will do.”
“Oh, and make sure to tell him Trent is doing a fine job. Blake should be proud of the way he brought him up through the ranks.”
“He’ll be glad to hear that,” Clay said, getting the idea that this woman might be a gossiper, which he could use to his advantage. “Say, you don’t know anything about Jason Rader, do you?”
“The guy they locked up for trafficking those poor girls?” She tsked.
“I saw his name often enough when he was a teenager. He was in and out of juvie for all kinds of offenses. His mother split when he turned sixteen, and his daddy, Fritz, didn’t give a hoot about what the kid got up to. Fritz was too busy drinking his life away over losing Ursula. Not that she was such a catch. Beautiful woman, but she liked to party and had a reputation with men in the area.”
Lorraine had just saved Clay hours of research. “Fritz still live around here?”
“Sure thing. Right out on the highway heading back to Portland. East side of the road. Can’t miss his house. Back when Prince was a superstar, Fritz painted it purple and hasn’t ever changed it. House sits back from the road, but not far enough to hide that color.” She looked like she wanted to tsk again but held back.
“Was the mother ever seen again?” Clay asked.
“Nope. Fritz said she left him and they never reported her missing. She didn’t have any relatives that anyone knew of, so there was nobody else to request we look into it. Still, if you ask me, there was something fishy going on there.”
“Like what?” Toni asked. “You think Fritz might’ve killed her?”
Lorraine shrugged. “He has a mean streak. Wouldn’t surprise me at all.”
“Who was sheriff when she left?” Clay asked.
“Raintree was in office.”
“Is he still living?”
She shook her head. “Passed away nearly ten years ago, but Sheriff Ziegler’s still going strong, and he was a detective at that time so he might know more.”
“You telling tales again, Lorraine?” Trent’s deep voice boomed behind her.
She spun. “Nothing I wouldn’t say in front of your face, you know that.”
“I do indeed, but it doesn’t mean it’s something I’d want you to tell people.”
She waved a hand. “Best get back to my desk.”
She disappeared, but the sound of her heels clicking on the tile rang in the air.
“She’s been the admin here for so many years that she sometimes thinks she runs the place. Who knows. Maybe she does.” Trent chuckled, and it was clear he was fond of her. “Wish I had good news on Rader, but as suspected, the lawyer’s controlling his visits.”
“Thanks for trying,” Clay said, trying to hide his disappointment. “Would you keep your ears to the ground on Hibbard?”
“I can do you one better,” Trent said. “I’ll check in with the nearby counties to see if he’s on anyone’s radar. And ask about the high school. It sits right on the county border, so seems like one of us should’ve seen something going on there.”
“But it’s way back from the road,” Toni said. “And Hibbard had blackout drapes on all the windows.”
“Yeah, but still.” He planted his hands on his hips. “Grinds me that we missed something like that going on right under noses. And now we’ll have the feds breathing down our necks. Nobody wants that.” He cast a wary glance at Toni. “Sorry, I know you’re one of them, but we don’t like anyone coming in and pointing fingers at us.”
“I wish I could say that won’t happen, but I can’t.” Toni came to her feet, keeping her focus pinned to Trent. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone we were here.”
“I won’t volunteer the information, but if Agent Lane asks, I won’t lie.”
Clay walked beside Toni to the exit. “Since we can’t visit the son, let’s go talk to the dad.”
“My thoughts exactly.” She smiled at him, a glorious happy smile he’d seen often before her dad was killed, and his heart went twang.
He started to lift his hand to squeeze her arm, but lowered it before he took them into the personal realm. They stepped outside and he got them heading in the right direction.
Within thirty minutes, he was turning into a long driveway, a small purple farmhouse sitting at the end. The paint color was an even brighter purple than Clay expected, though much of the paint had weathered and flaked away.
He killed the engine and leaned forward, letting his gaze wander the property, studying every detail.
Home visits could be dangerous. An officer never knew who was behind the front door. The occupant could be afraid. Mad. Combative. Armed. The condition of a house and property could tell an officer a lot about the people inside. Like the abandoned tractor near the house. The lopsided chicken coop on the side. Cars on blocks and two rusty old motorcycles.
And the house itself.
This one was sad and neglected. Maybe Rader was lazy. Maybe he didn’t have enough money to fix the place up. Maybe he just didn’t care. In any event, he could be defensive from the moment they knocked on the door.
“Looks safe to proceed.” Clay got out and Toni joined him.
A hawk soared overhead, swooped down in the side yard, and came up with a rat dangling from its beak.
Toni shuddered. “In my opinion, rats are second to snakes in things God should never have created.”
“I don’t know,” Clay said, marching up to the door. “It’s obviously not a nighthawk, but we named our agency after hawks, so if I believed in signs, this bird could be a good one.”
He knocked on the worn wooden door and listened for approaching footsteps. Nothing. Listened for a television or radio. Nothing. Listened for any sound. Nothing.
“Looks like he’s not home,” Toni said.
“Truck’s in the driveway.”
“He could’ve gotten a ride with someone.”
Clay pounded harder. The catch released, and the door swung in revealing pry marks on the jamb where the door had been forced.
Death’s rancid odor oozed out of the house, and Clay lurched back.
Toni cupped a hand over her mouth and nose. “Guess he’s home after all, but I doubt he’ll be talking.”
8
There was no question. A person had died, and Clay mentally prepared himself for what awaited them in the house. Nothing compared to the almost caustic odor of decomp. Based on the intensity, Fritz Rader had been gone for days.
“We probably should call Trent.” He leaned against the wall and put a bootie on that they’d retrieved from the SUV. “But he won’t likely share details on a new murder investigation.”
“We need to get a firsthand look before you make that call.” Toni dug out her phone. “Might not be Fritz in there, so I’m going to find a picture of him for comparison.”
“Good thinking.” He put on his other bootie, keeping his eyes alert for any danger.
“Got it.” She showed him the photo of a guy who looked like his son and slid the phone back into her pocket.
“The mole by his nose should make him easy to ID,” Clay said.
She nodded and put booties over leather loafers the same color as the black suit she’d chosen to wear again today. She continued to dress in work attire, but he’d seen her lock her agency-issued gun in the safe at her apartment and withdraw a different weapon last night.
He drew his gun. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll clear the place.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “I can do it.”
“I know, but would you mind if I do?” He did his best to ask and not demand, but the last thing he wanted right now was to send her into this place before someone cleared it.
She stared at him for a long moment. “I guess not.”
He didn’t wait for her to change her mind but pushed the door all the way open. He hated that she even had to be a part of this horrific scene. He wouldn’t want any person he cared about to view this body, but if he asked her to sit it out, she might think he was treating her differently because she was a woman. Then to prove he wasn’t discriminating against her because of her gender, he’d have to admit the depth of his feelings for her. Neither of them needed to talk about his feelings. Especially since he didn’t actually know what they were.
He stepped inside to find a man lying on his back on the worn linoleum floor near a sagging recliner, flies swarming his body. No pool of blood, but plenty of other body fluids. His face
was bloated and discolored, but Clay could still confirm a match to the photo Toni had showed him. The guy was thin with blond hair like his son and had a large mole by his nose.
Clay moved on, clearing a small kitchen and three bedrooms. One held a large birdcage but no bird. Clay didn’t waste any time moving back to the front door. “We’re clear.”
He holstered his weapon, put on his gloves, and took a few pictures in the family room before forcing himself to move closer to the body when everything in him screamed to run the other way. He squatted and got a close-up look at bruises circling Fritz’s neck. “Looks like he was strangled.”
Toni squatted on the other side. “Face is distorted but not too terrible. It’s Fritz Rader all right.”
“Based on the blowflies, it looks like he’s been here a few days.” Clay stood.
“Jason was arrested a few days ago. You think Rader was part of his son’s group? Or the kid killed him?”
“Trent didn’t mention any connection to the trafficking, but if so, someone might have wanted to shut him up. Maybe the two guys working with Jason.”
She tilted her head. “We need to start referring to the son as Jason and to the dad as Rader, or it’ll get confusing.”
Clay nodded. “Wish we could check his pockets for a phone and ID, but I wouldn’t want to have to tell Trent we touched the body.”
A noise sounded behind Clay, and he spun, reaching for his gun. Something white waddled out from behind the couch in the corner. A bird. A big white bird with pink feathers around a black beak.
He looked at Toni. “I saw a cage in the back bedroom.”
“Hello there,” Toni said to the bird.
“Hello,” the bird replied.
“Did you hear that?” Clay shook his head. “It talks.”
“It’s a cockatoo,” Toni said. “A type of parrot, so that makes sense.”
“We should close the door. Don’t want it getting out.”
Toni backed up and pushed the door closed with her foot.
She walked closer to the bird. It ruffled its feathers and backed up. She squatted close to him.
Night Hawk Page 8