Текст книги "Stranded"
Автор книги: Alex Kava
Соавторы: Alex Kava,Alex Kava
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CHAPTER 3
Maggie could see only a section of the garbage bag that bulged out from under the chunks of dirt. The black plastic still had a glossy newness despite the mud and the smell. On their hike back, Tully had explained how he had hunted down the foul smell, which convinced him the bulging plastic bag might contain a body, although most of the bag remained underneath the pile of dirt.
The first thing Maggie noticed was that this burial plot—if it was, indeed, that—wasn’t close to the crater that had produced the skull and femurs. The mound of earth was set at the edge of the woods, at least a hundred feet away from the farmhouse.
“We tore up this area yesterday morning,” the construction foreman said. “We thought it was just garbage. That’s what it smelled like. We didn’t think much about it. A lot of country folks bury their trash instead of burning it. They sort of make their own personal landfills. We just left it alone.”
“You didn’t think it was odd that there wasn’t any other garbage?” Tully asked.
The foreman, who had introduced himself only as Buzz, shrugged. He kept his hard hat low over his brow, and his mirrored sunglasses made it difficult to see whether he was concerned or simply impatient with the delays.
The sheriff and his deputies, along with the construction crew, now surrounded the pile of dirt that stood about seven feet tall and spread over about fifteen feet. The equipment had left tracks and gashes in the ground, including a three-foot-deep trench with claw marks. Yet, Tully seemed adamant that it was a crime scene and he even attempted to back off the men.
He asked them to stay at least ten feet away, which Maggie thought was senseless. Any evidence had already been run over, dug up, or washed away. At this point, a few more footprints wouldn’t make a difference. Besides, none of the men looked anxious to poke or prod at the garbage bag. They appeared more wary of it than curious.
Tully took a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket, removed his sports jacket, and handed it to Maggie.
“What are you doing?” she asked him.
“I’m just going to check it out.”
“Shouldn’t we wait?” Sheriff Uniss wanted to know.
Tully glanced back at him. “Wait for who? The FBI?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie saw the sheriff’s face grow crimson.
“It might just be a bag of garbage,” Tully said, rolling up his shirtsleeves. “You want to call a mobile crime lab out here and have them open it only to find someone’s rotting leftovers?”
No one answered. The younger deputy shifted his weight and Maggie could see the discomfort on his face. She recognized that look. First murder case. First dead body. It was hard not to be excited while trying to hide the shock and a bit of nausea. He swiped at his chin and his eyes darted around.
Maggie was surprised at Tully. It wasn’t like him to jump in. Of the two of them, he was the cautious one. He waited for the appropriate authorities. He played by the rules. It was Maggie who often leaped headfirst.
But she shared his impatience. That a rest area backed up to this property could be a mere coincidence, except that it matched the hand-drawn map, almost line for squiggly line. Factor in that this farm had been vacant for almost ten years. They had been searching for this highway killer’s dumping grounds for more than three weeks now. Maggie could feel Tully’s restlessness. The land was technically federal property. They had jurisdiction.
She didn’t say a word when Tully glanced back at her. He was looking for her to stop him. But she wanted to see what was inside the plastic bag, too. She nodded her agreement.
Tully stepped carefully, gauging the best method of approach. The only two options were wading through the muddy trench and reaching up to the bag or going around the side and climbing the pile of dirt to get to the bag. Tully chose to climb.
The chunks of dirt held his weight but it looked like one wrong move and he’d start a mudslide. He’d made it within arm’s length of the garbage bag when he slipped, almost losing his balance. He replanted his feet and his right shoe sank down. Maggie heard him groan but he stayed put. He was close enough to bend down and touch the bulging plastic.
He pushed up his rolled shirtsleeves. Then he reached out with a gloved hand and gently swiped off a chunk of dirt. He waited as if he expected the plastic to burst open. Maggie glanced around at the men from the construction crew and the deputies. All of them appeared to be holding their breath. No one dared fidget or shift.
Tully took another swipe and then another. A large chunk of dirt came loose and skidded down the pile, revealing more of the black bag. That’s when a piece of the plastic flapped open. It had already been torn but the dirt had kept it sealed.
Tully carefully peeled it open. Suddenly he jerked away just as a foot slipped out from the plastic. An orange sock dangled from the toes.
Maggie heard several of the men gasp as they watched the pale skin change to dark red in a matter of seconds. She had seen it happen once before. A strange and eerie phenomenon that sometimes occurred when encased decaying flesh is first exposed to air and sun. It almost looked as if the body were coming back to life, trying to kick out of the sock and the bag.
“I think we can call the crime techs now,” Tully said.
Then Maggie heard someone start to gag. Without looking she knew it was the poor young deputy. He finally had his first dead body.
CHAPTER 4
OUTSIDE MANHATTAN, KANSAS
OFF INTERSTATE 70
Noah had no idea how long he had been lying under the pine tree. Nor had he noticed how close he was to the back of the small brick building. Somewhere he heard the buzz of electrical machines and the hum of traffic. It all came to him muffled, like he had cotton wadded up in his ears. His breathing came in rasps and hitches. His chest hurt, as if he hadn’t stopped running. His heartbeat continued to gallop and refused to slow back down to normal. Whatever normal was.
“Eleanor, there’s a young man here.”
Noah heard the voice, though he stayed in his fetal position, not even attempting to see if the person was close by or referring to him.
Please don’t see me. Please just walk on by.
“He looks like he’s bleeding.”
Busted.
But he didn’t have the strength to crawl out of sight. He couldn’t crawl. He couldn’t move. His muscles had given up. All he knew was that the last time he tried to sit up, it hurt too much. He’d curled up into a ball, trying to make himself small. Trying to make himself disappear. Dark had turned into day. Cold into warm. But his mind had shut off. He had to shut it off.
“No, stay back, Eleanor.”
The man was close but he was keeping a safe distance.
“He doesn’t have any clothes on.”
He took them. He took everything.
“Good God, there’s so much blood. I think he’s hurt pretty bad.”
Noah didn’t have the energy to tell the man that it wasn’t his blood. It was Ethan’s. Or what was left of Ethan.
Don’t think about it. Can’t think about it. Stop thinking about it. Just breathe.
“Go call 911, Eleanor.”
No, just leave me here.
Noah tried to block out the man’s voice. Somewhere above, a hawk screeched. A breeze swished through the branches. Other birds chirped and tweeted. He couldn’t identify them. Leaves skittered. He wanted to fill his head with any sound as long as it might block out Ethan’s screams.
CHAPTER 5
“Where’s the closest FBI field office?” Tully asked Maggie.
She had joined him at the top of the dirt pile. Both of them were ankle-deep in mud. From this close, the smell was overpowering, even though they had shifted and climbed a bit higher so they could look down at the protruding garbage bag and be upwind. The sheriff, his deputies, and the construction crew kept their distance, staying on the other side of the trench. They had even backed away without being asked. It also put them out of earshot of Tully and Maggie’s conversation.
“I’m guessing Minneapolis is four or five hours away,” Maggie said after some thought. “I don’t think we have a field office in Iowa or South Dakota.”
“Omaha’s probably the closest. Do you know anyone there?”
Maggie shook her head. “Not in the FBI office. But they have a regional crime lab that’s first class.”
They stood side by side, so close Maggie’s shoulder brushed against Tully’s arm. They were perched five feet above with a perfect view of the grounds. Maggie took it all in, assessing how large the property was. It would be an overwhelming task to start digging it up. And that didn’t count the woods and riverbed behind the property. She knew Tully was thinking exactly what she was.
“How many other bodies do you suppose are here?” he finally asked.
“We could be wrong about this being a dumping ground.”
“I’ll ask Alonzo to send a canine cadaver team,” Tully said as if he hadn’t heard her.
“I don’t think the sock belonged to the victim.”
“What do you mean?”
“It looked new, too clean.” She noticed that the sock still had a crease across the bottom, like it had just come out of a package. No way it had been in a shoe and still had that pronounced a crease.
“Wasn’t there a body found just recently wearing orange socks?” Maggie asked.
“An FBI case?”
“No, not one of ours.” Maggie tried to remember. For some reason she could see another body, orange socks, a wooded area … and then she realized where. “On television,” she said. “There was a TV reporter who led Virginia State Patrol to a body in the woods. Do you remember seeing that?”
Tully pushed up his glasses and rubbed his temple. “I try not to watch any reality cop shows.”
“It wasn’t a prime-time show. It was on the news. Maybe three or four weeks ago. The reporter said he was directed to the site by a tip. I can’t remember if there was an eyewitness.”
“You think the two are connected?”
Maggie didn’t believe in coincidences. And now she wondered if the bastard had gone out and bought orange socks? Could the socks be his signature? But she couldn’t remember Gloria Dobson wearing any socks at all when her body was discovered.
“Ask Agent Alonzo to check the database for orange socks,” she said. “And have him find out as much as he can about the woman found in Virginia.”
He jotted notes on a scrap of paper.
“The skin looks like it hasn’t even started to decompose,” Tully said. “How long ago do you think this one was?”
“Standard rate of decomposition is one week in the open air. Two weeks in water. Up to eight underground.”
“I hate that you know that stuff off the top of your head.”
Maggie smiled. It wasn’t a trait she was proud of. Not only did she remember such gruesome trivia but she could store and retrieve it at will.
Just then the ripped piece of plastic flapped open in the breeze. It was enough for Maggie to see movement inside the bag. She felt a cold sweat and she grimaced. And what was worse, Tully noticed.
“Maggots,” she said through clenched teeth and it came out in almost a whisper. She hated maggots. “That speeds up the rate.”
Had the killer ripped the bag on purpose, knowing that maggots would make it more difficult to identify the body?
“We need to get a mobile unit out here before dark,” Tully said.
Maggie glanced at the men below. It was human nature for these guys to share today’s discovery. “And some extra security,” she added.
“I’m on it.” Tully pulled his cell phone out of his trouser pocket as he started to skid down the pile.
Maggie stayed put. By now the smell didn’t bother her and she kept from glancing at the flapping plastic. Instead she continued to survey the property. The sheriff had said the previous owner had died ten years ago. Had the property been vacant the whole time? And if so, how did the killer know? Did he just stumble upon such good fortune or did he have a connection to this place?
The sun blazed down now. All the clouds had left. The temperature stayed cool but at least they wouldn’t need to worry about more rain. Something caught her eye, the sun glinting off glass. The farmhouse was about one hundred feet away but something made her look its way.
Maggie’s heart skipped a beat.
She put her hand to her forehead to shield out the sunlight. Certainly she was mistaken, and yet she made her way down to ground level, keeping her eyes focused on the house.
“Sheriff,” she said, coming around the trench, walking to his side to avoid raising her voice. “Does anyone have keys to the house?”
“The property’s executor does. He should be here soon.”
“Can you call him and see how close he is?”
“You mean right now?”
“Yes, now. And we need to move these men back over to the outbuildings. Slowly. Make sure they don’t rush.”
“You mean right now?”
“Yes.”
She left him before he asked more questions. She was pleased that he was already getting the men to move and tapping on his cell phone. She walked over to Tully and waited for him to finish his call.
Then she calmly told him, “Someone’s inside the house.”
CHAPTER 6
“What are you talking about?” Tully asked and he started to turn toward the farmhouse before Maggie grabbed his elbow.
“I saw a curtain move.”
“That could be anything. A breeze, a draft.”
“Something moved in front of the window. Then the curtain fell back into place.”
“We’re both pretty wiped. When was the last time either of us got a full night’s sleep?”
He didn’t believe her. Before she could argue her case, she saw his fingers instinctively move up to his shoulder holster. But he didn’t reach for his weapon. Instead he grabbed his sports jacket from where he had draped it carelessly over a fence post. He pulled it on casually without a hint of tension.
Maybe she was exhausted from too little sleep, but Maggie knew she had seen something or someone in the house. A house that had been vacant for ten years. Tully started walking away. With or without him she’d check it out. Still, she followed him, trying to figure out what would convince him. It was smarter to have backup. They had both been in situations before where a killer had come back to the scene just to watch law enforcement officers discover his victims. They’d also been at crime scenes where the killer had left a trap for the police.
Now it made sense to Maggie. Why had the killer given her a map? Why send them on a scavenger hunt then lead them directly to the gravesite if he didn’t get to enjoy or observe it?
Tully stopped beside the backhoe, and that’s when Maggie realized he had put the heavy equipment between them and the rear of the house. Then he said in a low voice, “Damn it. We should have thought about checking out the house first thing.”
So he did believe her.
“The sheriff said the estate’s executor is on his way here. He has a key.”
“But if the house is rigged …”
So she and Tully were on the same page.
“It’d be doors, not windows.”
“Are you sure he didn’t see you notice him?”
“I’m not sure of anything right this minute,” Maggie admitted.
“He’s watching the excitement back here. He can’t watch all sides of the house at the same time.”
“We split up?”
Tully nodded.
“What do we tell Uniss and his deputies?”
“To stay put.”
“You don’t want them to back us up?”
Tully looked over her head at the men gathered by the barn. She stole a glance over her shoulder. Foreman Buzz had wandered into the woods and was coming back, smoking a cigarette. His crew was talking, pointing or waving at the garbage bag. The sheriff was still on his cell phone. His deputies were on their own, either talking or texting.
“I’d rather we have them stand down until they hear from one of us.”
Maggie remembered the young deputy losing his lunch and she couldn’t help wondering if he’d ever fired his weapon in the field.
“I’ll tell them,” Tully offered. “Why don’t you check out those lilac bushes and take the east side of the house. I’ll go behind the barn and come up on the west side.”
Maggie glanced at the house again. The double-hung windows were set about four feet up off the ground. She remembered seeing a porch at the front of the house and a side door on the west side. She hadn’t seen the east side that was flanked by lilac bushes. If the windows were as high, she’d have to struggle to get up and in without taking too much time and becoming a target.
“What are you thinking?” she finally asked Tully.
He took off his jacket again and draped it over the side rail of the backhoe.
“Break a window. Then take cover and wait. If someone’s inside, he’ll go check it out. It’ll give me enough time to kick in the door on my side. From what I remember, it didn’t look like much of a challenge.”
“I’m not sure I like it. What if he’s sitting in a corner with a semiautomatic, waiting for you? Maybe we should wait for the executor and a key.”
“He could still be sitting in a corner with a semiautomatic waiting for us. Or we could put the key in the lock and the whole place explodes.”
“Were we always this paranoid?”
Tully smiled. “I think you’ve been a bad influence on me.”
Maggie took off her jacket now and draped it over Tully’s.
“Just be careful,” she told him. “Gwen would kill me if something bad happened to you.” Then she started for the lilac bushes hoping they might find a stray cat inside.
CHAPTER 7
MERCY REGIONAL HEALTH CENTER
MANHATTAN, KANSAS
Noah awoke to white walls and machines humming. He startled so violently he ripped a needle from the back of his hand and beeping erupted above his head. He crawled over the bed rail in one easy, frantic move but when his feet touched the floor pain shot through his body. That’s when he noticed swaddled gauze at the ends of his legs. They looked like enormous stumps and for a brief moment he panicked.
Oh my God, did they amputate my feet?
A nurse hurried into the room and her motion made him jump.
Fight or flight.
The instinct still raw inside him.
“Stop. You’ll hurt yourself.”
She was small and quick and amazingly strong as she grabbed him by the shoulders. In seconds he was cradled back down into the pillows. Before he could protest and try again, he felt a wave of nausea.
“I’m gonna throw up.”
She didn’t flinch. Instead she helped him sit forward and placed a plastic wash basin on his lap.
There was nothing left in his stomach to vomit. His dry gags scraped his sore throat and his jaw ached. When he was finished, the nurse eased him back down and pulled the covers up over him. The flimsy hospital gown stuck to his sweat-drenched body and he started shivering so badly he was certain he must be having some sort of convulsion.
He felt the prick of a needle before he could fight it. Warm liquid flooded his veins. His body almost immediately began to relax. He melted deeper into the pillows as his head began to swim. His heartbeat quieted but his chest still hurt.
His eyes darted at every sound and every movement in the room. Blurry green and red lights flashed on equipment he didn’t recognize. A face appeared at the door. Another peered down over the bed at him—the nurse. Only now he was seeing three of her.
Eyelids heavy. Don’t close them.
He didn’t want to see Ethan’s face again.
It felt like only minutes later when Noah opened his eyes. This time his mother’s face hovered over the bed and he blinked hard, trying to clear her from his view.
“Oh look, Carl, he’s waking up.”
Noah’s head swiveled to find his father standing by the window. Another man was with him. Noah jerked up, eyes popping wide open before he realized he didn’t recognize the other man.
“I’m sure there’s an explanation for everything,” he heard his father tell the stranger. Neither seemed as pleased or as excited as Noah’s mother was that he was waking up.
“I hope so.”
His father turned to Noah but stayed by the window as the other man came closer. His mother stepped aside and her smile went away, too.
“Noah, I’m Lieutenant Detective Lopez with the Riley County Police Department.”
Noah could hear a slight accent and he glanced at his father. The man was shorter than Noah’s dad. His face was lean, skin a bit weathered, his button-down shirt tight where his arm and chest muscles bulged.
“Do you know where you are, son?”
Noah’s eyes darted to his father again to see if he would object to this man addressing him as “son.” His father didn’t move, didn’t shift, just stared at him, waiting for Noah’s answer.
“Hospital,” Noah managed to say.
“Do you remember how you got here?”
Noah looked at his mother. She smiled but it was forced and nervous, a twitch at the corner of her lips.
He shook his head.
“Do you remember what happened last night?”
When Noah didn’t answer, Detective Lopez prompted, “At the rest area?”
He didn’t want to remember.
Don’t tell. Don’t tell. I promised I wouldn’t tell.
Noah shook his head again, but his heart started racing.
“Do you remember being on the road last night? Stopping at the rest area?”
He shook his head. This time too quickly. He could see the detective didn’t believe him.
“When they brought you here you were covered in blood.”
His eyes darted to his father to be met with a hard stare. His mother’s smile was gone for good now. Her hand covered her mouth. Brow furrowed. It wasn’t just concern. There was something else.
“It was a lot of blood,” Detective Lopez continued, “too much for the injuries you sustained.”
Noah heard it now plainly. Suspicion. Could the detective hear his heart banging against his rib cage?
So much blood. Ethan’s blood.
“Ethan,” he said, but it was barely a whisper.
“Your friend, Ethan. That’s right,” Detective Lopez said more gently now, coaxing Noah.
Can’t tell. Don’t tell.
But Noah slipped and said, “He’s still out there.”
By the look on his parents’ faces and Detective Lopez’s, Noah realized they thought he meant Ethan, when he really meant the madman. He was still out there and he’d know if Noah told. He’d know and he’d come back and do to Noah what he had done to Ethan.
