Remains In Coyote Bog

by Christine Husom

  “I’d suspected as much,” Smoke said.

  “On the other hand, the clear, vinyl-coated, three-eighths-inch thick, galvanized aircraft cable—that was a mouthful—was manufactured in Burnsville, Minnesota by Wilson and Jackson. Their coatings are available in vinyl or nylon, in clear, white, or black, and come in spools of fifty to two hundred fifty feet. The one we have is clear vinyl.

  “The company wholesales their products throughout the United States and Minnesota, including six service companies and four hardware stores in Winnebago County. The companies have no retail outlets, but it’s a popular item at the hardware stores. People use it for electrical projects, tie downs, safety fasteners, clothes lines.

  “I took the cable to Wilson and Jackson and met with Jason Wilson. He was able to identify the lot and batch number, manufactured six years ago. Ten fifty-foot spools were shipped to the hardware store in Emerald Lake that April. So I called on them. They keep track of inventory to a point, but not in a computer program. They had cash register tapes from back then, but not who bought the coated cable. All that led to a dead end,” Matsen concluded.

  “You did your job and got close, anyhow.” Smoke lowered his voice. “This isn’t public information until they notify the families, but the first two bodies have been identified. Mildred Dryer from Sherburne County, missing five years. The one weighted down with the dumbbell plate. And Horace Kline, from Meeker County, missing seven years.”

  Carlson’s eyes widened. “That kind of caught me off guard. Sherburne and Meeker?”

  “Yeah, it came together pretty fast the last couple days. They also had missing folks and collected DNA from their families. The regional crime lab came up with a match this morning,” Smoke said.

  Mason lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “That’s a good thing.”

  “I guess. Two identities made, five to go,” Matsen said.

  Smoke nodded. “Yep. Meeker has another one we’re looking at, besides. Change of subject: did the chief talk to you guys about our conversation with Special Agent Kent Erley today?”

  “He sent out an email memo with instructions not to leak the information to anyone outside the office until further notice,” Mason said.

  Smoke bounced his palm on a stack of papers. “What we got here is the employee records from facilities where the offender likely worked. We asked the HR reps to keep that confidential, also.”

  Deputy Vince Weber joined us in the squad room. “Huh. You’re havinˊ a party and didn’t invite me?”

  “Vinccccce!” Carlson said, like he was welcoming him to the Cheers bar.

  “Funny one, Briaaaan!” Weber tossed his notepad on the table. “It’s Friday—almost evening—for most folks, and if we didn’t have one more day on our rotation, I’d say let’s find the nearest Cheers and toss back one or two.”

  “I’m the detective on call this weekend, so I have a couple more days to go,” Smoke said.

  “Do what you can to hold down the excitement, Detective. If no big new cases come in, that would help us catch up. Tomorrow is our last day in Major Crimes this time around, and we have a bunch of loose ends to tie up,” Mason said.

  “It’s been a taxing week, no doubt,” Smoke said.

  “One bright spot to cheer you up, guys. I’m almost done with your job reviews. Tomorrow, it could happen,” I said.

  “Yeah well, can you at least tell us if any of us flunked?” Weber said.

  “None of you flunked. And I’ll add that we have a fine bunch of deputies, and you three are among the finest.”

  Mason and Carlson said, “Thanks,” in unison, like the team they were.

  “Ah, gee, that makes my heart kind of go pitter-patter.” Weber had trouble with praise, but his touch of sarcasm didn’t hide his sincerity. “So what’ve you got goinˊ on here?” He pointed at the project before us.

  Smoke briefed him.

  “Yeah, we got the memo about the angel of death. The worst kind of deal, right? Somebody who’s supposed to be takinˊ good care of people is killing ˊem. And if that’s not creepy enough, she branded ˊem, and buried ˊem in a bog. When I thought about it, what Erley came up with as a profile seems like it makes a lot of sense,” Weber said.

  “I agree,” Mason said.

  “So I got about an hour left on the clock. If you want, I can help you sort through those records,” Weber said.

  “That would be mighty fine,” Smoke said.

  “Carry on, then. We’ll be in the Major Crimes room if you need us,” Carlson said as he and Mason headed for the door.

  Smoke handed Weber the stack from Ridgewood Care Center. I took the one from Meadowbrook Assisted Living, leaving Smoke with Home Health Comfort Care.

  “How do you plan to tackle this?” Weber said.

  “Last year, when Oscar Wright went missing, we got lists of employees from these places, but didn’t find a common person who had worked at all three places. Special Agent Erley said the person may have used different identities and could have worked at the facilities at a time other than when our victims disappeared,” Smoke said.

  Weber’s eyebrows lifted. “Huh.”

  “This is an elimination process. We’re looking for a woman in her forties who uses different names and ages. Birth dates to correspond with them, and it could be a wide range. Maybe thirty to sixty? The witness—who was the last one known to see Oscar Wright before he disappeared—said the woman with him was Caucasian, older, small in stature, gray hair, high cheekbones, narrow chin. And she wore big glasses,” I said.

  “Huh, those could cover most of her face,” Weber said.

  “Yep.” Smoke pulled out the composite sketch of the mystery woman created the previous year and slid it Weber’s way. “For all we know, she’s stolen other people’s IDs that have characteristics similar to hers, makes it relatively simple for her to pull it off. She can’t do much about her height, except to elevate it a couple inches, and spikes wouldn’t be allowed in her line of work, naturally. We’ll go through the records again, cross out the ones that are easy to eliminate, narrow it down from there.”

  Weber shook his head at the composite sketch. “Yeah well, if I ran into her what’d pop into my head is, she’s an older woman who looks young for her age. Like your mom does, Corky.”

  “Thanks, Vince,” I said.

  “You make a point, Vince. Some older folks have few wrinkles, making them look younger. And when older folks are fit and spry to boot, they seem more youthful than their actual age. Both of you know it doesn’t take much to alter one’s appearance. Hair, head or facial, versus no hair on men. A gray-haired wig or a red-haired one. Makeup, glasses, padded bra, the list goes on,” Smoke said.

  “Vince, if you put on a big bushy wig, I might not recognize you,” I said. He’d had a shaved head for as long as I’d known him.

  “That brings a scary enough image to mind. Now I gotta think of something else to get rid of it.”

  I snickered at an imagined image of him with hair. “This composite can be our guide to start with. We’ll compare it to the photos we have in the employee files. The detectives last year couldn’t find anyone who knew her. That’s suspicious in itself,” I said.

  We spent the next hour studying photos, checking birth dates, names, and dates of employment. Many were easy to eliminate based on a variety of factors, like those who were not Caucasian or female, or were far outside the age range. Longtime, full time employees were considered and set aside. The offender could have spent years at one of the facilities and then moved on to another. Erley said she wasn’t necessarily working at a facility when a person went missing from there. She might have been employed there at an earlier time. We also considered that she had been employed full time at one of the facilities and part time at the agency at the same time. With the shortage of healthcare workers, it wasn’t an uncommon practice.

  We closely studied the faces and came up with a list of nine potentials to investigate. More than I would have g
uessed.

  “It’s the witching hour, gang. You want me to keep working?” Weber said.

  Smoke glanced at his watch and blinked. “Three o’clock already? That hour flew by. No, go ahead and take off, Vince. Really appreciate your help, though. We got way farther in short order than I’d hoped.”

  “Sure. It was actually kinda fun. Catch you two later, then.” He saluted and left.

  I picked up another driver’s license photo, studied it, and handed it to Smoke. “She doesn’t fit, does she?”

  “No. Not like the other employees we’ve singled out.” He set the photo down. “Let’s check the DLs of the ones that do fit, see if their addresses are the same as what’s listed in their records. Find out what they look like on those photos. If the employee records haven’t been updated, some of the photos could be several years old,” Smoke said.

  “And then we pay each one a visit, find out if they’re really who they say they are?”

  “Sounds like a plan. We also need to set up meetings with Meeker and Sherburne, compare employee records with what they got. But with tomorrow being Saturday, that may have to wait until Monday. I’ll touch base with them again before quitting time, see where they’re at in the process. We need to nail down the common denominator a-sap.”

  “Smoke, every so often this weird sensation runs through my body, like it’s a warning. We need to identify the demented offenders and stop them before they strike again. And that could be soon.”

  “That sixth sense of yours has been right on, many times, Corinne. Special Agent Erley told us the killer—killers—won’t stop until they’re caught, and I think you’ve got good reason for that weird feeling.”

  I had another close look at the photos. One by one, I slid five away from the others. “What do you think?”

  Smoke pulled his readers from the top of his head to his nose then picked up each photo, studied it, and set it down. He did the same with the four I had ruled out. He pointed to the five I’d selected. “We’ll start with these, see where they lead us.”

  27

  Smoke headed to his desk to make the calls and I stayed in the squad room to run the drivers’ license checks on the five women in question.

  The first one, age 47, had been employed by both Meadowbrook Assisted Living and Home Health Comfort Care until three years prior. A wave of excitement washed over me until I learned she no longer had a registered Minnesota driver’s license or a Minnesota identification-only card. I ran an out-of-state check of her full name and date of birth. She popped up at an address in North Carolina. A search on social media captured her in a series of photos with family and friends. And a new career as a beauty consultant. One down with four to go.

  The second one, age 44, had a valid license and was at the same address listed on her employment records. She had worked for Home Health Comfort Care for two years. Silas Petty had used their services but disappeared a year before she started there. Shoot. I checked four social media sites, and she didn’t show up on any of them.

  The third one, age 58, had started part time at Home Health Comfort Care four years before and was still employed by them. Had she been the one who reported Silas Petty wasn’t home when she arrived for work? I felt a glimmer of hope. Her driver’s license matched the address on her employee records. Dolly Corbin lived in Emerald Lake and was not on social media. Then again, neither was I. Even with the privacy settings, it concerned me that people I didn’t want to see my posts might read them anyway.

  The fourth woman had a different address than was listed on her records. She was still in Minnesota but had moved to Alexandria, about two hours northwest of Oak Lea. I found her profile on social media and noted her listed occupation was Nurse at Douglas County Jail. Apparently, she wasn’t concerned who knew where she worked. I crossed her off the list of potential suspects.

  The fifth woman was 46 years old and had worked part time for Ridgewood Care Center for four years, and on call for Meadowbrook Assisted Living for three years. Both fit into the time frame of when Oscar Wright and Agneta Keats went missing. Rhoda Barnes was no longer employed by either facility. She had a valid driver’s license and lived in an apartment in Oak Lea. Bingo. She wasn’t on social media, either. We could start a club. Or not.

  I studied the photos again and noted that all of them fit the general description of the woman last seen with Oscar Wright— if they were made to look older. Except for the third woman. With her listed age, she qualified as older. I printed the information on the third and fifth women, the two I considered possible suspects.

  Smoke joined me in the squad room and watched as I slid the DL printouts and employee records in individual files. I gave him the skinny then flipped each file open.

  “We have two women who worked at all three places in the right time frame. I think they’re likely one in the same person. That’s why the detectives came up short last year when they were looking for commonality between the three who had gone missing over the last four years.”

  He looked at the files. “I think you’re onto something. Nice job sorting through them all, narrowing them down.”

  “Sure. I need to check Silas Wright’s file, see if Dolly Corbin was the one scheduled to work the day he went missing.”

  “No, that wasn’t her name. It was something else,” Smoke said.

  “Okay. But that doesn’t mean Dolly didn’t get there before the other’s shift started.”

  “I’m with you on that thought. I recall the other one was cleared after a pretty intense interrogation.”

  “We need to talk to Dolly Corbin and Rhoda Barnes,” I said.

  “Agreed. And I have an update from the other counties.”

  “What?”

  “Meeker rounded up the employee records from the two facilities where their missing folks were living at and Sherburne from the one. They’re going through them as we speak. Let’s get these files of Corbin and Barnes scanned and sent over so they can do a comparison. They’re as motivated as we are to flush out this angel of death. Special Agent Erley’s profile put the frosting on the cake for all of us,” he said.

  “They’ll be able to compare the addresses of any suspects, see if they match up with ours. That’ll be a quick check.”

  “Yep. Between the two of them, their people disappeared seven, six, and five years ago. Before ours started, so the suspect may or may not have moved,” Smoke said.

  “True, but she buried all her victims in Coyote Bog. At least seven that we know of. We need to visit both counties, discuss next steps. Maybe tomorrow?”

  “We’ll make that work.”

  I phoned Home Health Comfort Care, identified myself, and asked if Dolly Corbin was working that evening. She was not. In fact, she was on vacation for a week. We didn’t know if Rhoda Barnes was currently working as she hadn’t given that information to either facility when she’d left her jobs. Smoke chatted with Meeker and Sherburne, arranging to meet with one in the morning and the other in the afternoon.

  After delivering the suspects’ information to Chief Deputy Randolph, we were on the road en route to Rhoda Barnes’ apartment. She lived in a complex on the northeast side of Oak Lea, a secure facility. Smoke rang the bell for the manager. A stocky young man appeared at the glass door a moment later. Smoke pointed to his badge. The man glanced at my uniform and opened the door.

  Smoke extended his hand. “Detective Dawes and Sergeant Aleckson. And you are?”

  “Max.”

  “Max, we need to talk to one of the residents here, so we’d appreciate you letting us in.”

  “Sure thing. What apartment?”

  “Three-twelve. Rhoda Barnes.”

  “I’m not sure that she’s home. I don’t see her much. I think she’s got kind of a weird work schedule,” Max said.

  “Where does she work?” Smoke said.

  “I don’t even know.”

  “Have you been the manager here long?”

  “Yeah, since we opened
six years ago,” Max said.

  “And Rhoda’s been here how long?”

  “She wasn’t one of the first to move in, but I think some time in the first year.”

  “Does she live alone or share the apartment?” Smoke said.

  Max shrugged. “Ah, well, she might have visitors, I guess.”

  “Any particular ones?”

  “Well, I guess I can’t say. I haven’t seen anyone come in with her. She’s friendly enough, but quiet-like, so I don’t know if she has any special friends or not.”

  “We’ll see if she’s in.” Smoke offered Max his card.

  Max took it and nodded. “Okay. Can I ask if she’s in trouble or something?”

  “We just need to ask her a couple of questions. Nothing to worry about,” Smoke said.

  “Oh, okay. That’s good to know. Well, I’ll leave you to it then.”

  Max watched us get on the elevator and disappeared from sight when the doors closed.

  “She may or may not have visitors, huh?” I said.

  “Must not have a lot of them. Max hasn’t seen her with anyone over the years.”

  “He’s hardly seen her over the years. Or apparently even really talked to her.”

  “Sounds like it,” Smoke said.

  The elevator doors opened, and we took a left, directed by the arrow for rooms 300-312. Each room had a doorbell, a nicer feature than the knockers on doors at some buildings. Bells that rang inside eliminated the loud knocking noise. Residents must appreciate that.

  I pushed the doorbell. No sounds inside. I counted to thirty and rang again. I was in uniform, so I stood to the side. Smoke faced the small peephole in case Rhoda looked out. We listened for any activity but didn’t detect any. After a minute, Smoke pointed his thumb toward the elevator. We headed there and hopped on.

  We stopped by the manager’s door on our way out. When Max opened, Smoke said, “You have my card. I’d appreciate if you call me next time you see Rhoda Barnes. Any time of the day or night.”