Stranded (4 page)

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