“Okay.”
I ended the call and stared at the shop. A while later, a Jeep Cherokee drove into the parking lot, and a man with blond hair got out and strolled inside. However, the big man didn’t leave. I looked down the road and saw King’s nondescript sedan. A few more minutes ticked by, and Ernie called me. I didn’t want to talk to him right then and explain that I’d confronted Merrick without him. I let the call go to voice mail, then texted him.
I already talked to Merrick. I’ll talk to you soon.
The clouds overhead darkened, and big rain drops pelted my car, the plinking sound a distraction. I flicked the windshield wipers on once, then gave up on having a good view as the rain came down in a rush. Then just as suddenly, the storm passed. The air was refreshing. I rubbed my neck, kneading out a tension knot. My phone buzzed with another text from Ernie.
Looking at Eklund’s internet activity. He’s been researching the Colorado Citizens Militia.
“I’ll be damned.” I stared at the shop for a second, decided I couldn’t wait for the big man any longer, nor could I put off Ernie any longer. I called King to let him know I was leaving the scene, then drove downtown.
“I can’t believe you went in there and confronted Merrick without me.” Ernie swore and paced in front of his desk. He was as angry as I’d seen him in a long time. “I told you to wait for me, Sarah. We’re dealing with a militia group, not a church social group. Surely you realize how they could be.”
“I told you, I saw the big guy that I’d seen before with Merrick, and I couldn’t wait for you any longer before I went in. I needed to know who he was.”
Ernie swore again. “I know you can handle yourself, but this time, you should have had backup. Look how it turned out.”
“I waited for you.”
“I got tied up on a call with one of Eklund’s friends.” His surliness wasn’t going away. “You should’ve waited for me.”
“I didn’t think I could wait for you.”
Normally I might have been angry at Ernie for trying to tell me what to do, but in this case, of course, he was right. I’d been lucky that nothing had happened, that a more serious confrontation hadn’t occurred. I didn’t want to admit it, but I did like that Ernie had my back.
Captain Rizzo, who had been standing off to the side, raised a hand. “Ernie, take it easy. It’s over now.” Then he locked hard eyes on me. Tension hung thick in the air. “However, Sarah, be careful, huh? It could’ve gotten ugly.”
“You know me,” I said. “I can take care of myself.”
“You always have,” Rizzo said. “And you’ve gotten yourself out of some bad situations. But we don’t know who we’re dealing with.” He wasn’t going to dress me down in front of Ernie, but it was clear he wasn’t too happy with me. He drew in a breath, let it out slowly. “The last thing I need is some militia group targeting the police because they think we’re harassing them.”
“I get it,” I said, knowing I could’ve waited for backup. Then, more than ready to change the subject, I said, “We’re missing something here.”
“Then let’s find that something before we hassle Merrick anymore,” Rizzo said.
I ran a hand through my hair. “Ernie, will you sit down?” He glared at me, then sank into his chair. He grabbed an unlit cigar and jammed it in his mouth. That would keep him quiet. I went on. “Tell me about Ivan Eklund’s internet activity.”
He tapped his monitor. “Last week, he had a number of searches for militia groups, specifically ones in Colorado, including the Colorado Citizens Militia. It’s only been in the last week or so. Nothing before that. I didn’t find any activity on porn sites of any kind, let alone underground sites that specialize in kiddie porn. Nothing that would indicate we had a pedophile on our hands.”
“Nothing?” Rizzo asked.
Ernie shook his head. “Not a thing.”
I held up a hand. “Gary Pickett doesn’t want to tell us about this militia group, but we know he’s probably involved in it. Then we find out that Eklund–who lives close to where Logan Pickett’s body was found–had a budding interest in militia groups. What’s going on here? What’s the connection?”
Rizzo stared at me. “Has this militia group, the Colorado Citizens Militia, been involved in illegal activities?”
I nodded. “According to Mike Crozier, the FBI agent I talked to, a couple of members are suspected of some theft, but other than that, nothing. Is it a stretch that the group might have kidnapped Logan Pickett to help his dad take him out of state? I don’t know.”
Rizzo leaned against the edge of Spats’s desk and crossed his arms. “So this new guy that you saw at the gun range, the one that you met with Gary Pickett and Merrick, he provided an alibi for Merrick?”
“A new alibi,” I said. “If they’re all to be believed. The other guy said that Merrick was with him both on Saturday night, and on Tuesday night. But there’s a problem with that.” Rizzo looked at me, curious, and waited for me to go on. “Merrick said that he was bowling on Saturday night, and then he went home. So why would this new guy need to give a different alibi? Did Merrick lie to me before because he didn’t want me to know about the militia group?”
“Probably.” Rizzo rubbed his chin and thought about that. “Where was Gary at these times?”
“I can answer that,” Spats said as he waltzed into the room. He looked around at us, sensing the tension in the room. “What’s going on?”
Ernie pointed at me. “Sarah talked to Merrick, went into the gun range like Calamity-effing-Jane and she almost gets her ass blown off.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, Ernie.” I turned to Spats. “You know that guy that I’d seen Gary and Merrick with? He was at the gun range, and he gave Merrick his alibi, albeit a new one. They bowled, then were at the gun range Saturday night for a militia meeting.”
Spats’s gaze went between Ernie and me. “I know you can take care of yourself, Sarah, but I’d hate to see something happen to you.” Amusement crept into his eyes. Ernie and I butted heads more, and Spats played the peacemaker.
“I’m fine,” I said.
Rizzo turned to Spats. “What do you have on Gary?”
Spats moved toward his desk. Rizzo stepped aside, and Spats sat down. He held up a piece of paper. “I finally got the records from the phone company, pinging Gary’s phone for his whereabouts. Gary was in Audra’s neighborhood around the time Logan disappeared. Then he was at his house for less than an hour. After that he went to the Gold Creek Gun Range, and he stayed there for a couple of hours. After that, it appears he drove around, then went back to his house and was there the rest of the night.” Spats glanced at us. “Or at least his phone was in those places.”
“So he lied when he said that he searched for Logan, then was with his girlfriend, Kristi Arnott, the rest of the night?” I asked.
“He was with her, but only for a little while,” Spats said. “I finally talked to Kristi, and she said she was at Gary’s house Saturday evening. He, however, called her and said that his son was missing and he was looking for the kid. Then Gary came home for about a half-hour or so, around eight, then he was gone until about eleven. She dodged questions for a while, then finally admitted that Gary had wanted her to lie for him.” He flashed a smile. “She didn’t do a very good job. Apparently, when Gary came home, he’d told her he needed to go out. He never told her where, and she didn’t ask.” Spats leaned back. “According to his phone, Gary was at the gun range.”
“What about the night Logan was murdered?”
“She wasn’t with him then.”
I thought about that. “What’d she say about Logan being missing?” I asked.
Spats shrugged. “She believed him. I didn’t get the impression she was that close to Logan, or that upset about his being missing. And she didn’t think Gary might’ve been lying to her about what had happened to Logan.”
“So,” Rizzo said. “This other guy, Gary, and Merrick, were
all at the gun range last Saturday at a militia meeting.”
“And they didn’t want the police to know about that,” I inferred. “What about the SUVs Merrick was renting? And I saw him buying fertilizer. Are they planning something?”
“What about our theory that they’re all somehow involved in the kid’s disappearance?” Spats asked. “Did Gary hire the militia to kidnap his kid? Did the group have the kid with them Saturday night at the gun range?”
“Where’s the proof of that?” I asked. “I’ve never heard of a militia group kidnapping anybody, although there’s a first time for everything.”
Spats lifted his shoulders. “Are they a rogue element within the group?”
Rizzo impatiently tapped his thigh. “I don’t know about that. From what I know, militia groups don’t do crimes for money.”
“Or maybe it’s this guy Eklund,” Ernie speculated.
“Except that so far we haven’t found any reason to believe he took the kid,” I pointed out.
Ernie jabbed his cigar at his monitor. “What about Eklund’s internet history, that shows his interest in the Colorado Citizen’s Militia?”
“Is he a member of that group?” Rizzo asked.
“Not that I can find,” Ernie said. “It’s not like they keep a list of members anywhere. I asked Oakley if he’d heard about Eklund being in a militia from anyone his team interviewed, and no one mentioned it. I’ve been circling back to those people to specifically ask about that. So far, everyone says that doesn’t sound like Eklund.”
“Why’s he looking at the same militia group that Gary seems to have a connection with?” I mused, not seeing the answer.
“Keep on that,” Rizzo told Ernie. His eyes went to each of us. “A killer’s still out there.” He didn’t need to say more about the urgency of the investigation. He snapped his fingers at me. “What’s the name of that FBI agent? I’ve got to contact him right away.”
“Crozier.” I wrote down his name and number and handed it to Rizzo.
He rubbed his forehead. “All we need is for the FBI to believe that we suspected illegal militia activity and didn’t notify them. I’ll give Crozier a call.” With that, he left the room.
Ernie leaned forward and gave me a hard look. I held up a hand. “Don’t start with me.”
“I know you think you’ve got it all under control …” he began.
My desk phone rang. “It’s Oakley,” I said. I smiled sweetly at Ernie, but I was grateful for the interruption. “Hold that thought. Maybe forever.”
He swore at me as I picked up the phone, but this time, at least, he had a twinkle in his eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I picked up the phone. “Spillman.”
“Hey,” Oakley said. “I just got back from the school where that guy Eklund took school pictures. I thought you might like to hear this.”
“What’s that?”
“The school has a security guard working there, her name is Susan Palmer. I was asking her about Eklund, what she knew about him, how he acted around the kids, and it was interesting.”
“Interesting how?”
He didn’t answer for second. He was in a noisy place, and the sounds of loud background conversations made it hard to hear him. “Tell you what, you go over to the school and talk to her. I’ll tell her you’re coming. After you do that, we’ll talk.”
He didn’t want to prejudice me before I talked to her. “Okay, I’ll head over there.”
“Roosevelt Elementary. On Jackson Street.” He disconnected, and I put my phone in my pocket.
“What was that about?” Ernie asked. His ire with me had evaporated.
I told him. “I guess I’ll go to the school now. See what else you can find on Eklund’s internet searches.”
“I’m working on it.”
“And I’ll see what I can find on this gentleman with the handlebar mustache,” Spats said.
“Gentleman. Right” Ernie rolled his eyes.
I could hear Spats and Ernie conversing as I walked down the hall.
When I arrived at Roosevelt Elementary School, the parking lots were almost empty. In the playground, a mother pushed her little girl on a swing. The same feeling that I’d had before, that remnant of sadness when I saw the playground swings, washed over me again, and I had to quickly tamp it down. I rubbed at the knot in my neck, drew in a breath to try to blow out some of the tautness I felt, and walked to the school entrance. No one else was around. I tried the door. Locked. I peeked through the window and into a reception area near the door. A desk sat empty. I tapped on the door and waited, then knocked louder. A woman with short curly hair finally came out of the office and gave me a small wave. She came to the door and unlocked it.
“Susan?” I asked.
She took in my badge and the gun on my hip. “Are you Detective Spillman?”
“I am.”
She signaled for me to follow her into the reception area. The school was graveyard quiet. “Detective Oakley said you’d be coming. I’m not sure why he wants me to talk to you, too, but come on in.”
We moved past a desk and into a smaller office. She was younger than I expected, with an athletic build and kind eyes. She leaned against the side of a desk and pointed at a chair. “Have a seat. I was just about to leave, and I do have an appointment at the hairdresser, so if we could make this fast …”
“Sure.” A quick glance revealed all that was in the tiny office. A book case with a few notebooks on the shelves, a few plants on the desk. “You know that Logan Pickett was found dead yesterday?”
She fiddled with a watch on her wrist. “Yes, I did hear that. That’s really upsetting.” She glanced away. “You get to liking all the kids.” She shook her head sadly.
“I get it. Ivan Eklund lived down the block from where Logan’s body was found. You’ve heard about Eklund, that he’s dead?”
“Yes.” She nodded and drew in an unhappy breath. “It’s a lot to take in. Detective Oakley said he’s conducting the investigation on Ivan’s death. He had some questions, said it’s routine.” She appraised me. “I heard from another teacher that Ivan may have committed suicide, but if you’re asking questions as well, it makes me wonder, was it murder?”
“We have to look at everything.”
She glanced at her watch. “So what do you want to ask me?”
“How well did you know Ivan?”
She exhaled through open lips, the sound loud in the quiet room. “As I told Detective Oakley, I didn’t know Ivan very well. I’d see him around the school when he was taking portraits, and I’d say hello to him. He was here a month or so ago, and then he was back for retake day.”
“Retake day?”
“Taking pictures for the kids that missed the first photo day.”
“Oh, I see.”
She smiled. “I tried to get to know him a little bit, you know, somebody coming in and out of the school, I need to keep an eye on them. He seemed like a nice guy, and he was really good with the kids. They seemed to like him. A lot of the teachers did too.”
I shifted in the chair, the hard seat uncomfortable. “Did you ever hear that Ivan might’ve done anything inappropriate to the kids, anything suspicious?”
“Do you mean do I think he’s a pedophile?” She didn’t pull any punches. “Do I think he was doing things to kids that he shouldn’t?” I nodded and waited. “Oakley asked the same thing, and I told him no.” She kept her eyes on me. “I know, sometimes the nicest guys can be the predators, but I didn’t see that in Ivan. I never saw him look at the kids funny, I never saw him acting like he was getting too close to any of them, that he was trying to manipulate them. And I never heard anyone else say that, either.”
“In your interactions with him, did he ever act strange, depressed or anything like that?”
She shook her head. “The only thing that I thought was a little weird was that one time, he was asking me about some woman in the neighborhood, and then he also asked about
a little boy, the one who liked comic books. At first I didn’t know who he meant, but then he described the boy, and I realized it was Logan Pickett.” She smiled warmly, thinking about Logan. “He was a sweet kid.”
Now I knew why Oakley wanted me to hear this. “What woman did Eklund mean? One of the parents?”
“That’s the weird part. I wasn’t sure. He didn’t have the name of the woman. And it didn’t seem like he was asking about Logan’s mom. He tried to describe her, but it basically sounded like half the mothers in this school. I wasn’t able to help.”
“And how did he describe this woman?”
She pursed her lips. “He just said that she was taller, with darker hair.” She laughed. “See? That sounds like a bunch of the mothers here, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” I said, even though I really didn’t know whether that was true or not. But it was a rather general description. “Why did he want to know about this particular woman?”
“He never said.”
“What exactly did Ivan want to know about Logan?”
“I thought it was odd for him to be asking. He wanted to know where he lived, if I knew what his home situation was, was he by himself after school. If so, who was watching him if his parents were at work?”
I cleared my throat. “And didn’t that make you suspicious?”
“Initially, yes. But when I asked Ivan why he was wondering, he said something vague about how Logan seemed to have an aura about him, that he thought Logan might be a great child model. And Ivan wanted to talk to the parents about that. I told him he would need to ask somebody at the school for the parents’ contact information. I told the principal about it, but I don’t know whether she talked to Ivan about his questions.”
Susan may have bought Ivan’s story, but I did not. “Did Ivan ever follow up on that?”
“I don’t know.” She pointed out the door. “I got busy with other things, and I didn’t think about it. And since that conversation, I haven’t seen Ivan at the school, so I don’t know what he was doing.” Then she paused. “Wait.” Another pause as she lightly slapped her forehead. “Huh. I forgot this until just now. The other day–Friday– I saw him in the parking lot. He was sitting in his car, watching the kids come out of the school. I was going to go talk to him, and then I got distracted by some of the kids. I didn’t see him after that.”
Deadly Connections Page 18