AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“He would have had to fit Jeter through too,” Faith pointed out, “and Jeter’s a big man. He must have opened the door and then tried to close it but couldn’t close it all the way.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean he stuck around to watch,” Dr. Heath replied, “but he might have.”
Michael detected a thinly concealed tension in Dr. Heath’s demeanor. He could understand that. There was nothing worse to an investigator than trying to solve a crime with little evidence. “Did you find anything at all that might indicate who did this?”
Dr. Heath folded her arms across her chest and pressed her lips together. The look complemented her petite frame and button nose perfectly, and Michael made a mental note to call Ellie as soon as they got to the hotel room. "Nothing," she said tightly. “Not even boot prints or tire tracks.”
“He’s methodical if nothing else,” Faith replied. “It takes time to cover tracks like that.”
“He could have dragged a tarp behind his truck,” Dr. Heath replied. “A canvas sheet would have smoothed out any prints or tracks enough to make them unrecognizable.”
“Let’s hope he’s not that resourceful,” Michael replied.
“Well, he figured something out,” Heath replied. “I’ve never seen a crime scene with such little usable evidence in my life.”
“Welcome to Hell,” Faith said drily.
Heath’s expression suggested she didn’t appreciate the humor.
CHAPTER SIX
Fayetteville was even smaller than Plato. The “town” consisted of a single intersection of two dirt farm roads and featured a post office, a bar, a market, a gas station, a gun shop, a feed store, a hardware store and a police station with exactly one officer on duty.
Officer Brady Folsom was a middle-aged man with prematurely white hair and a handlebar moustache. He greeted the agents with typical Midwest stoicism and said, “I’ll have to wait for Corinne to come in and relieve me before I run y'all out to the Olsen place. Don't get much cause for law enforcement around these parts. The farmers all keep to themselves, and if there's a fight at the bar, they all shake hands at the end and head home without involving us. Not sure why we exist in the first place.”
“Perhaps to address the murder that took place within your jurisdiction last week,” Michael offered.
If Folsom caught the sarcasm in that statement, he didn’t show it. He nodded and replied seriously, “Yep. I suppose that’s true.”
“What can you tell me about Dr. Montgomery?” Faith asked.
“Who?”
“The victim,” she repeated, a touch of irritation in her voice. “What can you tell me about her?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t know her. Her ID listed her address in Sioux City. That’s the big city about an hour south of here. I reckon they might know more.”
Faith decided to never live anywhere where everything was an hour away. “Who responded to the scene?”
“I did,” he replied. “Frank Winslow drove by and noticed a bunch of vultures gathered out by the old Olsen grain silo. He figured a deer wandered in looking for food and died. When he pulled up and found the body, he called me right away. Didn’t touch nothing. Didn’t want me thinking he did it, I guess.”
“Do you have reason to suspect him?” Faith asked.
"Frank?" Folsom chuckled. "No, Frank's harmless. He cried like a baby when his old dairy cow busted her hip, giving birth, and he had to put her down. He ain’t got a violent bone in his body.”
Faith decided not to point out how woefully inadequate that evidence was and simply asked, “Is there anything at all you can tell me?”
Folsom sounded slightly miffed when he replied, "Look, agent, I did my job. I called it into the State Patrol, and they passed it on to major crimes. She wasn't from here. I didn't think it was my place to drag Corinne and me into a case involving an out-of-towner."
He said that in such a way as to make out-of-towner sound like some revolting trait. Faith felt a flash of anger, but then she considered Officer Folsom and decided it was better he be involved as little as possible.
God, she hated it here.
She wondered what Dr. West was doing now, where he had fled to after Faith found him. Was he still in Philadelphia somewhere, lurking, waiting for her to return? Or worse, was he waiting for David to return so he could make good on his promise to take everything Faith loved away from her?
Her right wrists spasmed and she grimaced and started kneading the sore muscles with her left thumb and forefinger.
“Won’t help none to do that,” Folsom offered. “Sprains only heal with time. You can try icing it or wrapping it if it’s painful, but you aren’t going to make it better any faster.”
