Текст книги "The Missing"

Автор книги: Chris Mooney

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Chapter 53

Darby pulled off Route 22 and came to a stop in front of two trees. Between the trees was a dirt road. Someone could easily pull a car inside there and be hidden from the main road. She didn’t spot any tire tracks on the ground.

‘This looks like the place,’ Darby said.

Evan nodded. He had been unusually quiet during the drive, communicating with nods and short answers.

Darby killed the engine. She felt a building, jittery panic as she hefted her kit out of the backseat. Evan grabbed the shovels.

‘It’s going to be slow walking back there,’ Evan said. ‘You want me to carry that?’

‘Thanks, but I can manage.’ Darby headed into the woods.

It was slow walking, steep and muddy from the rain. Twenty minutes later, the trail ended. In front of them now was an uneven terrain full of sloping ground packed with trees, rocks and downed tree limbs. They had to duck under tree branches as they walked.

Evan slung the shovels to his other shoulder. ‘You’re awfully quiet.’

‘I could say the same about you. You’ve hardly said a word since we left.’

I’ve been thinking about Victor Grady.’

‘What brought him to mind?’

‘The map you found,’ Evan said. ‘Riggers said he saw a map of these woods when he was in Grady’s house.’

‘I don’t remember reading anything about a map.’

‘It was destroyed in the fire. Riggers didn’t remember much from the map, but he said it was for these woods. The thinking was Grady might have used this area as a possible burial spot, so we searched the woods. We never found anything.’

‘How much of the woods did you search?’

‘About a quarter of it,’ Evan said. ‘I don’t have to tell you how big these woods are. The Belham department ran out of money and the search was called off.’

‘So Grady’s victims are probably still buried out here.’

‘I think so – at least that’s what I believe deep in my gut. To find where they’re buried, it would take a miracle.’

Darby stopped walking. ‘This should be the place.’

Below them was a sunny, wide-open patch of ground covered with leaves.

‘I don’t see any evidence of recent digging,’ Evan said. ‘In fact, I don’t see evidence of anyone having been out here at all. Take a look at the slope. No boot prints.’

‘The rain we had might have washed them away. There’s barely any tree coverage here.’

‘We should assemble a team to come out here and search.’

‘Look down there.’ Darby pointed to a boulder spray-painted with a small, white smiley face.

‘Some kids could have done that,’ Evan said.

No. Evan was wrong. Kids wouldn’t come all the way out here. This location was too remote and private. Digging out here late at night, Traveler wouldn’t have to worry about being spotted or heard.

Darby headed down the muddy slope, wondering if Traveler made two separate trips out here – one time to dig the grave, the second to bury the body. Or did he do it all in one trip?

Darby placed her kit on top of the boulder. Next she set up the tarp. When examining burial spots, a team of people was used to help with the tedious task of turning over each leaf and setting it on a tarp while searching the ground for any potential evidence that might have been left behind.

‘We should call in more people,’ Evan said. ‘It will make this go quicker.’

‘By the time we mobilize a group and get them out here, we’ll probably be done.’ Darby grabbed a shovel. ‘Come on, let’s get to work.’

Chapter 54

Darby was hoping to find a cigarette butt, a candy wrapper or soda can – something with DNA that would place Traveler at this burial site. After sifting through the leaves for an hour, the only thing they found was an old penny. She bagged it into evidence, but she wasn’t holding out any hope of finding a fingerprint.

‘I say we start digging at the base of the boulder and work our way out,’ Darby said.

Evan agreed and handed her a shovel.

As Darby worked, the morning sun warm on her neck, her thoughts kept running back to what Evan had said about having searched through these woods for the remains of Grady’s victims. Was Melanie still buried somewhere out here?

I’m sorry, Mel. I’m sorry you and Stacey never got the chance to live out your lives. I’ve tried hard to forget what happened. If you had lived, Mel, I know you would have done a much better job at remembering me. If there is such a place as heaven, I can only pray that if we ever meet you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.

The hole was rectangular in shape, about four feet deep. Darby tossed her shovel aside.

‘I don’t want to risk damaging anything with the shovel.’ She lay down on her stomach and reached inside the hole. ‘Do me a favor and grab the brush and hand trowel from my kit.’

Darby used her gloved hands to scoop away the dirt. The wet dirt had seeped through her jeans. In the far distance she heard the sound of branches snapping back.

Evan stood over her, watching. He had retreated back into his stony silence. He had barely spoken while they dug.

Darby felt something hard beneath her fingers. She scooped away the dirt. At first, she thought it was a rock. But as she moved away the dirt, she had an idea what it was.

Staring up at her were the parietal and occipital bones that made up the human skull. Jane or John Doe was lying facedown in the grave. The skull was a dark, rusty color, and there wasn’t any hair.

Evan handed her a brush from her kit. Darby scooped away more dirt, alternating between her fingers and the brush.

‘I don’t see any insect activity. No soft tissue… No muscle tissue, cartilage or ligaments. Fully skeletonized would be my guess.’

Darby pointed to a dark web of lines on the ocular section of the skull. ‘These are dendritic impressions. You see these root etchings when a skull’s been buried for a good amount of time. I should call Carter. He’s the state’s forensic anthropologist.’

‘How many people does he have working for him?’

‘I’m not sure. Two, I think. Carter has experience in exhuming mass gravesites. He also works for a group that travels to third world countries – places where there are mass graves from genocide and wars.’

The sound of branches snapping back grew louder. Someone was heading this way. Probably Banville, she thought.

‘I wonder if there’s a full set of remains buried in there,’ Darby said.

‘This spot could be a dumping ground.’

‘The ground’s too wet to use ground-penetrating radar,’ Darby said. The machines Carter sometimes used looked like futuristic lawn mowers. They required traction on hard, dry surfaces. ‘I’m going to call Carter. I don’t want to dig any more and risk damaging whatever bones might be buried in here.’

Evan glanced off at the trail. Darby looked over her shoulder.

Standing on the level ground above her were four men dressed in suits. The tallest of the bunch, a man with a crew cut, said, ‘Special Agent Manning, may I speak to you privately for a moment?’

‘Who’s that?’ Darby asked.

Evan walked away without answering. Darby stood up and brushed the mud off her jeans.

Coop’s cell phone vibrated in her back pocket.

Darby stripped off her gloves. The cell phone’s signal was low, the reception scratchy. She barely heard Coop’s voice. Darby told him to hold on a moment and paced the area until the static eased. She pressed a hand over her other ear.

‘What did you say, Coop?’

‘I said they kicked me out of the mobile lab.’

‘Who did?’

‘Our good friends from Club Fed,’ Coop said. ‘The FBI has taken over the investigation.’

Chapter 55

‘It happened about twenty minutes ago,’ Coop said. They’re taking me downtown.’

‘Why?’

‘They have some questions about the investigation. Has Manning said anything to you?’

‘No.’ But I have a feeling I’m about to find out, Darby thought. ‘What reason did they give you for taking over the case?’

‘They didn’t. Two of their agents were killed by the bomb in the van, so I’m guessing they’re using that as their way in. I can’t talk long. I snuck away and borrowed Romano’s phone.’

‘Is Banville there?’

‘I haven’t seen him. Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I think it might have something to do with CODIS. After you left, the computer came back with a DNA hit. I saw it on the screen. Whatever it is, it’s classified. I couldn’t access it. Shit. Here they come.’

‘Call Leland,’ Darby said. ‘I’ll see what I can find out.’

Darby headed up the slope. Everyone stopped talking.

The tall man with the crew cut handed her a business card – Assistant Attorney General Alexander Zimmerman from the Department of Justice. Oh boy.

‘Your business here is concluded, Miss McCormick,’ Zimmerman said. ‘Once you reach your crime scene vehicle, you’re to turn over all materials and related evidence to Special Agent Vamosi. He’ll escort you out. You’re to follow Agent Vamosi to the Boston office.’

A man with a pie-shaped face stepped up next to her.

‘This is a missing persons investigation,’ Darby said. ‘You don’t have any jurisdiction –’

‘Two federal officers are dead,’ Zimmerman said. ‘That gives me jurisdictional control. If you have any questions, you can take them up with your attorney general.’

‘Why is there a classified DNA sample on CODIS?’

‘Good-bye, Miss McCormick.’

Darby turned to Evan. ‘Can I speak to you for a moment?’

‘I’ll talk to you later,’ Evan said. ‘You need to get going.’

Darby’s face reddened. She would never forgive him for the way he had dismissed her.

‘You called them out here, didn’t you?’

Evan didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The look on his face said it all.

‘You’re trying my patience, Miss McCormick,’ Zimmerman said.

Darby didn’t move, didn’t take her eyes off Evan. ‘You know who Traveler is, don’t you? Those listening devices were our best shot at finding Traveler, and you knew what he was capable of and let us walk right into that trap.’

The skin on Evan’s face tightened. He stared at her with the same cold, penetrating gaze she had witnessed at the lab.

‘What about Carol?’

‘We’ll do everything we can to find her,’ Evan said evenly.

‘I’m sure you will. I’ll make sure I tell her mother what safe and capable hands her daughter is in.’

Vamosi took her arm. It was either go or fight him.

‘I need to get my kit,’ Darby said.

‘I’m sorry, but it needs to stay here,’ Vamosi said. ‘We’ll return it to you when we’re done.’

Two federal agents were going through the crime scene vehicle. An unmarked car blocked the trail. Darby had to wait while Agent Vamosi examined items of interest.

Her phone vibrated again. The caller was Pappy.

‘I’ve been trying to reach you all morning. What are you doing with Coop’s phone?’

‘My phone’s busted,’ Darby said, walking away from the Explorer. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I have some good news about the paint chip we recovered from Rachel Swanson’s T-shirt. The German database came through with the ID. It’s the car’s original paint job. The color is called Moonlight White. It’s a one-of-a-kind paint manufactured only in the U.K. – that’s why we couldn’t identify it. The paint was used exclusively for the Aston Martin Lagonda.’

‘The one from the James Bond movies?’

‘The name was made famous in one of the James Bond movies, but the model I’m talking about, the Lagonda, is an early series two, manufactured in the U.K. in the late seventies – seventy-seven, I think. The vehicle was cleared for sale here in the U.S. in eighty-three. They made a conversion kit that had a color TV in the front as well as the back. Back in the day, they sold for 85,000 pounds, which works out to, by today’s conversion standards, roughly 150,000 U.S.’

Darby watched as Agent Vamosi went through her backpack. ‘That’s quite a price tag,’ she said.

‘I don’t know how much they’re worth now. They’re probably more of an odd collector’s item. Only about a dozen or so of these cars were sold in the U.S. We’re talking about a very limited – and very select – pool of buyers. A car like that should be easy to track down.’

‘Where are you right now?’

‘Sitting at home, still trying to absorb what happened. I was out yesterday collecting paint samples at a junkyard. It was a last-minute opportunity. If I didn’t take it, I would have been inside the building when it… when it happened.’

Agent Vamosi handed the backpack off to one of the agents and came for her.

‘I didn’t know your mother was sick,’ Darby said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I think you should see her. She’d love the company.’

‘Is someone there?’

‘Yes. Listen, I need to get going. The FBI has some questions for me. I have to head down to the Boston office.’

‘The feds have taken over the investigation?’

‘Correct,’ Darby said. ‘Who else have you told about your mother’s illness?’

‘No one but you.’

‘Keep it that way. I’ll try you on your cell in a little bit.’ Darby hung up.

Vamosi stood in front of her. ‘Can I have the pictures in your back pocket, please?’

Darby handed them over.

‘Are you in possession of any other materials related to this investigation?’

‘You have everything,’ Darby said.

‘For your sake, I hope so.’

And then Darby was seated behind the wheel of the Explorer, the two agents motioning for her to leave. Vamosi had already pulled out. Darby followed. Her arms were shaking with anger, her eyes hot and wet.

She thought about Rachel Swanson. Rachel, with her confident smile and hard-won knowledge, had survived unbelievable pain and cruelty for years. Rachel, with her emaciated body full of scars and sores and broken bones, had kept a list of her fellow prisoners and planned for the moment of her escape. Now she was dead.

And what about Carol? Was she still alive? Or was she already buried in an unmarked grave? Buried like Mel where no one would ever find her?

On the other side of these woods was Route 86. Twenty-four years ago, she had seen a woman being strangled. She didn’t know the woman’s name or what had happened to her. But Victor Grady did. The man from the woods had come for her and Darby had survived. If she survived that, she could survive anything.

Darby knew what she had to do. When she saw the exit, she hit the gas and bounced up the ramp.

Chapter 56

Darby parked the crime scene vehicle in the delivery area behind a liquor store. Safe from prying eyes, she called Pappy back on his cell and quickly filled him in on what had happened. She asked him to repeat the information on the paint chip and wrote everything down in her pocket notebook.

‘I meant to ask you this earlier: Who sent the paint sample to the Germans?’

‘I did,’ Pappy said. ‘I sent them a sample in case the feds weren’t able to identify it. Plus, the Germans said they would look at it right away.’

‘So as far as the feds are concerned, the paint chip wasn’t identified.’

‘As far as I know. My contact at the federal lab sent me an email and said he struck out.’

Evan Manning had told her the same thing.

‘Darby, if the feds find me, I’ll have to turn over what I have.’

‘Which is why you need to go someplace for the day.’

‘Well, I was thinking of heading over to the MIT library for awhile.’

‘Good. Stay there – and stay off your phone unless I call.’

Next she called Banville on his cell.

‘I take it you heard the good news,’ she said.

‘Our federal friends are at the station right now, going through my office files and computer.’

‘What are they looking for?’

‘Beats the hell out of me. They keep throwing out Title Eighteen as the reason for taking over the investigation.’

‘Title Eighteen,’ Darby said. ‘Doesn’t that have something to do with the Patriot Act?’

‘You’ve got it. It basically gives the FBI domestic investigative powers in cases involving terrorism. I don’t know anything more than that. My guess is, by the way they’re racing through here, we’ve stumbled across something potentially embarrassing and now they’re here to sweep it under the rug. When it comes to burying secrets, nobody does it better than our government – especially this administration.’

‘I found an entire set of –’

‘We shouldn’t be talking over a cellular phone. Call me back in five minutes at this number.’

Darby wrote it down and headed out to find a pay phone. There was one just outside the front doors of the liquor store. She went inside to get change and, armed with quarters, called Banville. She kept an eye on the parking lot, paranoid that Agent Vamosi was going to pull up at any moment.

Banville picked up right away. Behind him was the steady drone of traffic.

‘Are they monitoring our phone calls?’ Darby asked.

‘When it comes to the feds, I don’t take any chances. Tell me what you found.’

‘We found a skull. I had it partially dug up when the feds showed up and took over. Coop told me the feds got a hit on CODIS.’

‘I wonder if that’s what triggered all of this.’

‘CODIS will give them a name and a last known address, but I have a way we can find Carol Cran-more.’ Darby filled him in on the paint chip.

‘Aston Martin Lagonda,’ Banville said. ‘That’s a very select market.’

‘The cars brought into the U.S. should be easy to track down since they had such a small production run. We’ll concentrate our search on anyone living in or around New England. Traveler isn’t flying into Boston, he’s rooted somewhere close. What he does with these women requires privacy. We’ll look for owners with isolated houses.’

‘Manning told us they couldn’t identify the paint chip.’

‘So?’

‘Maybe they were lying to us,’ Banville said. ‘Maybe they’re already trying to track Traveler down through the paint chip.’

‘Or maybe Manning was telling the truth. Maybe their lab couldn’t ID the paint chip and they’re planning on tracking down Traveler through the map.’

‘I’m not following.’

‘The map was printed from a website,’ Darby said. ‘The website’s URL was printed at the bottom of the page. They’ll track Traveler down through an IP address.’

‘I have no idea what an IP address is. The computer stuff is way over my head.’

‘All the feds need to do is to identify the people who accessed this particular section of the map. They’ll go to the company and have them print off a log of IP addresses – it’s a unique string of numbers assigned to your computer every time you log on to the internet through your ISP – your internet service provider. Those IP addresses can be tracked down to an individual computer.’

‘So these IP addresses, they’re like a digital fingerprint.’

‘Not only is it like a digital fingerprint, the IP address acts as an individual map which will lead the feds directly to Traveler’s home. The feds will get a list of IP addresses and start targeting anyone living in and around New England. That’s going to take some time. Tracking Traveler down through the make of the car will be quicker.’

‘Okay. Give me your notes again on the paint chip.’

‘Tell me where to meet you. It will be quicker.’

‘You need to go to the Boston office before you get into any more trouble.’

‘I want to help you. You’re going to need people you can trust.’

‘It’s not a matter of trust, Darby. The feds can’t hurt me. I’m set to retire at the end of next year, but if they find out you’re still investigating this case, they’ll make your life difficult. I’ve seen it happen before. Too many times. Go downtown. I’ll call and keep you up to date, I promise.’

‘If you want the notes, then I’m coming along for the ride.’

‘Getting involved in this could cost you your career. You may want to give that some thought.’

‘I want to find Carol Cranmore and bring her home. What do you want?’

Banville didn’t answer. Darby spoke into the silence.

‘We’re wasting time. Carol may still be alive. We need to jump on this now.’

‘You said you’re parked at a liquor store.’

‘Joseph’s Discount Liquors on Palisades,’ Darby said. ‘I’m parked out back, in the delivery area.’

‘I still have one of the surveillance vans. We can run the investigation from there. Give me twenty minutes.’

Chapter 57

At 1300 hours, the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team boarded a private business jet at the Quantico airstrip. They were coming from a debriefing on the Traveler case. This was what they knew:

In late 1992, nine Hispanic and African American women disappeared in and around Denver, Colorado. The lead suspect in the case, John Smith, had packed up and moved by the time police located his address.

Smith’s home had been thoroughly cleaned, but forensics technicians for the Denver police recovered a partial boot print that matched a footwear impression found in the dirt next to the abandoned vehicle belonging to one of the missing women. An empty trash can sprayed with Luminol revealed a small area of blood. Analysis yielded two different DNA samples.

The first sample matched the genetic profile of one of the missing Denver women. The DNA profile was entered into CODIS, the FBI’s Combined DNA Indexing System.

The second blood sample was also listed on CODIS, but the identity of the person was not made available to law enforcement agencies or forensic laboratories. The sample belonged to Earl Slavick, a member of the Hand of the Lord, a paramilitary white supremacist group whose ethnic cleansing agenda included the overthrow of the U.S. government. The group, it was believed, had played a role in the Oklahoma City bombing, although no firm link had ever been established.

Slavick was also a high-level FBI informant.

Slavick had been given early parole in the beating of a Hispanic woman in exchange for providing the FBI with detailed information of the group’s activities at its secluded training headquarters in the Arkansas hills, not far from the Oklahoma border. As a member of the group, Slavick had been undergoing firearms training and bomb making when, in early 1990, he tried to abduct a Hispanic woman at gunpoint. Slavick dragged the woman, Eva Ortiz, into the woods. When Slavick tripped and fell, Ortiz ran away.

The woman had failed to pick Slavick out of a lineup. He was let go by local police.

When word of his botched abduction attempt finally reached the FBI, Slavick was already on his way to Colorado, under the alias John Smith, to start his own racial cleansing movement.

Given the highly sensitive nature of the case, all of Slavick’s files were classified. His fingerprints and DNA profile were left on the computer databases. If a match was ever found, the FBI would be alerted to Slavick’s whereabouts, while the reporting law enforcement agency or forensic laboratory would only see the code name the FBI had given to the case: Traveler.

Slavick’s next stop after Denver was Las Vegas. Twelve women and three men vanished over a nine-month period. A footwear impression matched the one recovered in Denver.

When Slavick moved on to Atlanta in 1998, Special Agent Evan Manning was asked to help assist in the investigation of three missing women. Slavick, posing as a gas station attendant, had attacked Manning, who managed to crawl away before passing out. Like his many victims, Slavick vanished into thin air.

That changed this morning, at 0800, when CODIS matched the blood found at the home of an abducted Massachusetts teenager to the DNA profile of Earl Slavick.

As the jet lifted off, nobody talked. HRT knew they were flying to Pease Air Force Base in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. From there, a Black Hawk attack helicopter would take them to the command post set up in Lewiston.

Team commander Colin Cunney took off his headset. He took a few minutes to review his notes before standing up to address his crew.

‘Okay, boys, listen up. The computer-printed map found early this morning was identified by our lab as having come from an online website specifically geared to hikers. Here’s where we got lucky. Two weeks ago, the map was accessed by a man living in twelve Cedar Road in Lewiston, New Hampshire. Crisis Management is already on the ground. They did a visual sweep of the house. It’s our boy Slavick.’

‘Hopefully he’ll stay put this time,’ Sammy DiBattista said.

Nervous laughter echoed inside the cabin.

‘A Black Hawk, courtesy of our friends at the Pease Air Force Base, made a run about an hour ago and got us a few aerial shots of the house,’ Cunney said. ‘The area’s thickly settled with woods, so we can use that to our advantage. There are three buildings: the house, a good-sized garage where he keeps a number of vehicles – so far they’ve spotted two vans – and a bunker. The entire area is surrounded with fences covered with razor wire, security cameras, infrared trip alarms, you name it.’

Cunney paused for a moment. He wanted his next point to sink in.

‘Slavick spent a lot of time at the Hand of the Lord’s training camp in Arkansas,’ he said. ‘Not only does he know how to shoot, he’s considered somewhat of an explosives expert. You all know he destroyed a hospital with a fertilizer bomb and a homemade plastic explosive stuffed inside a FedEx box took down to the Boston Crime lab. Our man also killed two of our agents with dynamite packed inside a van. Going in, we’ve got to assume he’s rigged some of the buildings.

‘It will be nightfall by the time we arrive. Intel says there are other people on Slavick’s property – probably some local weekend warrior assholes he’s recruited for his movement. I want to hit him hard and fast. We’re not going to have another goddamn firefight, not if I can help it.’

The ghost of Waco passed through the faces.

Cunney looked to his two best snipers, Sammy DiBattista and Jim Hagman.

‘Sam, Haggy, you’re not to fire until you have the go-ahead from me, understood?’

Both men nodded. Cunney wasn’t worried. He had seen these two men in actual combat and knew their capabilities.

‘We don’t know how many women Slavick’s got trapped in there with him,’ Cunney said. ‘We’re going in with the assumption they’re alive. Rescuing those women is our primary objective. This is a tactical operation. There will be no negotiating.

‘One last thing. This is strictly a home team affair. We don’t have to worry about any interference from ATF or the locals. Crisis Management has assembled all the technical and tactical help we need. That’s all I have right now. Questions?’

Sammy DiBattista asked the question on every one’s mind: ‘What do we do if Slavick decides to engage us?’

‘Simple,’ Cunney said. ‘We take the son of a bitch down.’