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“Both of our
main suspects fit the profile, both are confident and carrying on professions.” Jo fiddled with her earring. “The getting even is an excuse they find perfectly normal. An eye for an eye mentality. This is what makes people like this so dangerous: they fit right in and act normally.”
Forty-Seven
Married life for deputy Jake Rowley had become like driving down the mountain highway without brakes. The past six months had flashed by so fast it had been like a dream. The only negative was the time it took driving into the sheriff’s office from his new ranch. Not that it was far away but living in town had its advantages. He had always been there to open the office for Sheriff Alton. Now with his chores, tending the horses, and the general running of things, his life had become a little chaotic. With the sheriff, working with the FBI and only having old Deputy Walters as backup, his days seemed to be getting longer. On weekends, the team often took turns in the office and monitoring the 911 calls but he couldn’t expect the semi-retired Walters to carry the extra burden. It was just as well Maggie was there to lend a hand. Living close by, she’d taken to arriving early and opening the office and by the time he arrived at eight, she had a pot of fresh coffee brewing.
He’d spent the morning chasing down complaints, and then sat at Jenna’s desk to sift through the pile of messages. People called the sheriff’s department for the most ridiculous things. Dogs barking made the top of the list, dogs digging up people’s yards a close second. He had three calls about a person complaining that their neighbor looked at them strangely. The phone on the desk rang and he picked up the receiver. “Deputy Rowley.”
“This is Jan Cotterill. I called you about my missing car?”
Rowley pushed a hand through his hair. “It’s in the system, Mrs. Cotterill. No one has found it yet I’m afraid.”
“That’s because it’s here. Right back in the barn where I left it. It looks fine, no damage but it has mud on the tires and it smells real bad.” Mrs. Cotterill sounded worried. “I’m not so young anymore, and I’m scared to open the trunk. Can you send someone around to take a look?”
Rowley rolled his eyes and took a pen out of Jenna’s chipped mug on the desk. “Okay, give me the address again and I’ll be right there.”
He took down the details, it would be faster than looking up her file. After making a note in the daybook, he pushed on his Stetson and went to the front counter. “The woman who reported her vehicle missing has just found it in her barn. I’m going to check it out, she figures it smells.”
“Maybe she left her groceries in the trunk?” Maggie smiled at him. “You check in now, like the sheriff told you. I don’t want to be telling her I don’t know where you are when she comes by later.”
Grinning, Rowley tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am.”
The small ranch was at the mountain end of Stanton Road, on the same side of the highway as the Triple Z Bar and not half a mile from where Harvey Haralson had claimed to have found the Ford sedan in the forest. Rowley took the driveway through the trees. Ahead was the house but he noticed a cutaway through some trees leading to a corral. He pulled up outside the house but before he could call in his arrival to Maggie an elderly woman came down the front steps and headed to his SUV. She was robust with graying once black hair tied into a bun and wore rubber boots and a bright floral apron. He buzzed down his window. “Mrs. Cotterill?”
“Yes, that’s me and my vehicle is in the barn. If you give me a ride. I’ll show you?” She moved to the passenger door and opened it. “Turn around and go down the road to the barn.”
“Sure.” Rowley reached for his radio. “I’ll just call in to let dispatch know I’ve arrived.”
He made the call and then reversed the SUV to the dirt road leading to the barn. The road twisted and turned through a small wooded area, which effectively cut it from view from the house and road. Anyone could have taken the vehicle and returned it without being seen. “When did you notice the vehicle had been returned?”
“Just before I called you.” Mrs. Cotterill frowned. “I was planning on hosing down the barn before the deliveries arrived. It gets dusty in there and I get asthma.” She pointed. “See, it’s parked right inside, not just inside the door where I usually leave it.”
The smell of death filtered through Rowley’s window. He turned to her. “Are the keys in the vehicle?”
“Yes, just as I left them but I didn’t get inside.” She looked at him. “I went straight back to the house and called you.”
The delicious breakfast Sandy had provided, hotcakes, maple syrup and strips of crispy bacon, solidified in his stomach. A flood of dread washed over him at the thought of finding a dead body in the trunk of the vehicle. The Amber Alert and image of Pamela Stuart flashed through his mind. The latest bulletin had said she hadn’t been found. Was it a coincidence another vehicle had gone missing in the same area as the Ford used to kidnap Sophie Wood? Had the bomber taken Mrs. Cotterill’s vehicle and used it to abduct Pamela Stuart? Or was he being paranoid and someone had left a dead animal inside the trunk?
He glanced at the woman. “Wait here, I’ll go and look.” He climbed out from behind the wheel and pulling out surgical gloves from his pocket, headed into the barn.
The smell increased with each step and the wind moving through the trees made soft moaning sounds. Keeping to the shadows, he moved along the perimeter of the trees and pulling his weapon eased into the dim light inside the barn. He glanced around. The vehicle was parked in the open space beside two disused stables and a hayloft. Empty sacks and feed pellets littered the dusty floor but from what he could see the barn was deserted. He holstered his weapon and using his flashlight checked all around and under the sedan, aware if he was dealing with a bomber, he might trip an explosive device if he just went and opened the trunk.
Convinced the vehicle was clear, he opened the door, peering over the back seat and checking for anything inside. He found nothing. He bent, pulled the keys from the ignition, and walked around to unlock the trunk. It sprung open with a whine. Heart pounding, he peered inside, right into the sightless eyes of Pamela Stuart.
Forty-Eight
It was a magnificent day, too beautiful to be working on a murder case. Jenna wished she could be out riding, with the sun on her back and the smell of pine trees in the air. As they headed out the gate to her ranch, her phone chimed and she peered at the caller ID. “Morning Wolfe, we’re just leaving now.”
“It’s not about the Blackwater case, Jenna. Change of plans.” Wolfe sounded his usual calm solid self. “Rowley just called. He’s found Pamela Stuart, well he believes it’s her. She’s in the trunk of a stolen sedan in a ranch near the Triple Z Bar. Not far from where the other vehicle was apparently dumped.”
Stomach clenching, Jenna swallowed hard. She looked at Kane. “Head for the Triple Z Bar.” She turned her attention back to the call. “Okay, we’re on our way. Can you send me the coordinates?”
“No need, it’s the last driveway before the Triple Z. Rowley said it has a bright blue mailbox, with the name ‘Cotterill’ printed on the side.” Wolfe cleared his throat. “I’ve had deputies on scene since we left Blackwater. The crime scene is secure but we’ll have to be there without delay.”
Jenna couldn’t hold back a wave of remorse for the Stuart family. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Okay.” She disconnected and gathered herself. “Rowley’s found a body in the trunk of a car and he believes it’s Pamela Stuart. Wolfe is on the way.”
“That’s not what I wanted to hear this morning.” Kane’s eyes filled with concern. “Why didn’t he call you? He’s out at a crime scene with no backup.”
