Chapter 36
Joe was at the Police Station, watching from a window. Wayne and Bulka were in a fenced yard, a place where prisoners were taken once a day to stretch their legs and catch a breath of fresh air. Two armed police officers kept an eye on the man and his dog.
Bulka was beyond happy, beyond ecstatic. Her tail wagged like a helicopter rotor getting ready for takeoff. She barked and pranced and those barks were happy ones, ones of pure joy. Wayne knelt in front of her, wrapped his arms around her neck, and buried his face in her fur. Joe almost broke down at the sight. He saw Wayne wipe a tear from his eye and Joe almost had to do the same.
Joe pushed away from the window and blew out a breath. He had to get those two reunited. One way or another, Joe had to clear Wayne of the murders of Dan Sagget and Dolores Gage, and not just for Wayne's sake. For Bulka's, too. She would be lost without Wayne. This display of affection made it clear to Joe that Wayne and Bulka needed each other.
Detective Ziegler appeared in the doorway. He nodded at Joe and held up a mug of coffee. "Want a cup?"
Joe shook his head. "Thanks, but no."
Ziegler walked to the viewing window and sipped his coffee as he watched Wayne and Bulka play fetch with a stick. "He loves that dog. No question about that."
Joe grinned. "That he does. And the dog loves him just as much."
Ziegler looked at Joe, studied his expression for a moment. "That lawyer you got for Banyan is a hellcat. The past few days she's pestered the Chief relentlessly, and I do mean relentlessly. I've never seen the Chief so flustered." Ziegler chuckled softly. "He said he'd do just about anything to keep that woman from phoning him and demanding Banyan and his dog see each other. She was calling the Chief nonstop. She's got him all stirred up. Now, he's all 'balls to the wall.' Gotta solve these murders if for no other reason than to get that woman out of town."
"She is a go-getter," Joe agreed with a smile. "And you're right, she won't rest until Banyan is cleared of all charges. We do need to solve these murders." Joe's gaze met Ziegler's. Joe was sending a message: we, we together have to solve these murders.
Ziegler nodded like he understood, like he hadn't forgotten that he and Joe had agreed to share information and help each other in the investigation.
Joe leaned against the wall. "There's something else you need to know."
Ziegler took a gulp of coffee and swallowed. "Yeah, what's that?"
"My fiancée was attacked yesterday." Joe saw the shock in Ziegler's eyes. "Yeah, I think she was attacked by a man who was sent to follow me. This man tasered her and pushed her in a car. Luckily, she got away. The important thing for you to know is that this man was sent by Deke Boxberger."
Ziegler practically snarled. "Boxberger. Ugh. He's mixed up in all of these murders. Maybe he's the one who committed all of them."
Joe folded his arms across his chest. "Maybe. I think it more likely that Colonel Charles killed the hobos found buried on Nicholson's property. I believe the Colonel and Boxberger have been working together. The Colonel might be the one who murdered Nicholson's wife Linda."
"Hm." Ziegler scratched his chin. "The Colonel? Seems I need to question him again."
"Can't hurt," Joe said. "My problem is, I don't believe he, or Boxberger, killed Dan Sagget and Dolores Gage."
Ziegler frowned. "You don't?"
"No. Those murders were more personal and more brutal."
Ziegler's eyebrows rose and he tipped his head at the window in the direction of Wayne still playing with Bulka. "More personal? Banyan's got the most personal motive of all, abusive stepfather."
Joe unfolded his arms and looked out the window. It was a bright, sunny day. The guards were smiling at Bulka. She was having a good time fetching the stick. The simple joys of life.
"I know," Joe said, "but I don't believe he murdered his stepfather or mother."
"Well, then who did?" There was a bit of fire in Ziegler's tone.
Joe turned to the detective. "I don't know, but I'm working on finding out." Joe wished he had a better answer.
A young police officer burst into the room. The grave expression on his face said something big was up. Joe recognized the officer as the one who'd been hot for Monica LaMarca the other day.
The young officer pinned Ziegler with a tight stare. "Detective, there's a situation. The Chief needs you right away."
Ziegler remained calm. Young officers were prone to exaggeration. Ziegler drained his coffee and looked at Joe. "Talk to you later, Hardy."
Joe watched Ziegler and the officer leave. Joe wondered what was up. The young officer was certainly agitated. Joe hated being out of the loop. He wondered if more bodies had been found on Nicholson's property.
Two minutes later, Ziegler was back. Joe turned from the window. Ziegler's worried expression said something big and something bad had happened.
Ziegler drew in a breath and hesitated. Really bad, Joe thought.
"You said your fiancée was abducted yesterday? Pushed into a car?"
A frown descended upon Joe's brow. "I did. What .. what's going on?"
"We've got a woman trapped in the trunk of a car, sinking into the river. Word is, she was tasered and abducted. Sounds like it could be the same guy who abducted and tasered your fiancée."
Anger rose up in Joe's stomach and his hands curled into fists. "Has to be. Where's the woman and the car? We have to get to them."
Ziegler held up a hand, glanced out the window at Banyan and Bulka still playing, and back at Joe. "We will. First, what about the dog." He pointed out the window, at Bulka. "Can she track this guy for us?"
Joe quickly realized that Ziegler's question was based on the fact Bulka had found the dead hobos on Nicholson's property. "Hell yeah."
"Good," Ziegler said. "Get the dog and meet me in the lobby in five minutes. A fire truck and ambulance are en route to the river."
Ten minutes later, Joe was in Frank's SUV and following Ziegler's police cruiser. Bulka was in the back in her dog crate and whining. She had not wanted to leave Wayne. Now, Joe hoped she would be willing to track a scent for him. He was yanking her from a moment of pure happiness to one of pure chaos. Not the best way to prepare a dog for tracking.
However, the major thought occupying Joe's mind was, would the woman be rescued? Joe said a prayer as he drove. Let the woman survive. And let her be able to describe the man who had abducted her.
# # # #
Jolene felt the cold water around her bound ankles. That water was steadily rising and sucking the warmth from her body. When the car plunged into the water, she had been tossed around like a rag doll. She had squirmed and twisted and contorted herself into a somewhat upright position. It had not been easy, not with her ankles and wrists bound. Her head was near the latch for the trunk. So close to a way out. Jolene almost cried at the thought. The only thing keeping her sane at the moment was the voices of men outside. They had heard her screams for help.
She had screamed long and hard, until her throat was raw and, at last, two male voices had come closer to the car and yelled that they were getting help. Jolene had yelled back her thanks before breaking down into sobs.
# # # #
Joe bounced over another rut and cursed. Frank was going to kill him. Absolutely, positively kill him for driving his SUV on this road. Road?! Ha, this was no road. It was a path. Maybe. Make that a big, fat maybe.
Another rut and another expletive. Bulka whined in the back. She didn't like this path either.
Joe saw flashing lights up ahead, beyond Ziegler's cruiser, and breathed a sigh of relief. They were almost there. Thank god this drive was coming to an end and, with any luck at all, they were in time to save the woman.
# # # #
The wail of sirens had given Jolene hope. Now, the sirens had gone silent and Jolene heard strong male voices calling out orders. The words were muffled, but the resolute tone was undeniable. A sliver of hope grew in Jolene's heart. The water was up to her knees and the car was leveling out. The back end – where she was – was being pulled down into the river.
"Help! Hurry!" Jolene screamed, making the rescuers keenly aware of her dire situation.
# # # #
Joe parked Frank's SUV far away from the fire trucks, ambulance, and police cars. He saw Ziegler get of his cruiser and hurry over to the firemen. Joe looped the lanyard of his PI badge around his neck and climbed out of the SUV. Bulka was whimpering and barking her frustration in her dog crate. The shouts and excited voices outside the vehicle told her something important was happening and she wanted to be part of it.
Joe put her on a leash and let her out of the crate. Her ears were erect and capturing every sound. Her gaze latched onto the firemen and fire trucks and she tugged on the leash.
"Okay, okay," Joe said, "we're going that way, but you have to mind your manners."
Bulka gave a loud, sharp bark. Yessir!
Heads turned and eyebrows rose as Joe and Bulka approached. Well, Joe thought, now he and Bulka had everyone's attention. Men hauling chains stopped to look at the man and his dog, but quickly went back to dragging the chains toward the river.
Joe walked Bulka over to Detective Ziegler and the Fire Chief.
Ziegler gave a brief introduction, "This is Investigator Hardy and his canine partner. They'll be searching for traces of our suspect and trying to track him."
With the introduction out of the way, the Fire Chief explained his rescue plan to Ziegler and Joe. "We've got to stop that car from sinking. A couple of my men are getting ready to swim out to it and attach chains to the rear axle. While they're doing that another team will be attaching the other end of the chains to the aerial ladder on our main truck." The chief pointed at a fire truck backing up to the edge of the river. Its' aerial ladder was flat on the top of the truck and slowly sliding out over the river.
"Once those chains are all secure," the Chief continued, "we'll raise the ladder and lift the tail end of the car. We've got to keep it out of the water."
Ziegler eyed the fire truck now stopped at the edge of the river. Four firemen had leaped into action, attaching heavy chains to the ladder. Ziegler turned his worried eyes on the Fire Chief. "I hope this works."
"It will," the Chief said with confidence. "Once the car's stable one of my men will climb up on to it and pry the trunk open. Mark my words, we're going to rescue that young lady."
Joe appreciated the Fire Chief's 'can do' attitude. It reminded him of the Army. Where there was a will, there was a way. Still, Joe hazarded a question. "Is that car axle going to be able to bear the weight of the car and the water?"
The Fire Chief assessed Joe for a full ten seconds before responding. "Good question and we've considered it. That's why we'll also be running a chain through the back windows of the car and attaching it to another fire truck. We'll have that car suspended by multiple points."
Joe gave a satisfied nod. "Sounds like a solid plan."
# # # #
The water was past Jolene's hips and rising fast. The cold water crept along her back and sides. The car was flattening out. It wasn't so tilted anymore and that made Jolene's situation evermore perilous. Her muscles ached. They were tired and cramped from the awkward position she was in; knees bent, neck bent, shoulders hunched. But she had to maintain the position or risk drowning before she was rescued.
Suddenly, a male voice called out, "Brace yourself. We're getting ready to lift the back of the car."
"Okay," Jolene yelled back. This was it, the moment of truth. She drew in a breath, let it out slow, and prayed, God be with me.
# # # #
Joe watched the ladder move skyward and lift the chains off the ground. The chains stretched to their full lengths and tightened. All eyes switched to the tail of the car. It rose. Slow and steady. Joe heard the metal adjusting and straining to a new position. He, and everyone, held their breath. Water poured out of the back windows and into the river. Definitely, a good sign.
The Fire Chief shouted to the man operating the ladder, "Hold up! Hold up! Let the water drain a bit."
The ladder stopped moving and the Fire Chief called to a man on the edge of the river. This fireman had been in the river attaching the chains to the axle. He was soaking wet and didn't care.
"Landry, check on the victim. Make sure she's okay."
Landry waded into the water and swam the short distance to the car. He yelled up at the trunk, got an answer, and gave the Fire Chief a thumbs up.
The Chief turned to the ladder operator and yelled, "Hoist it up a bit more. I want to drain more of that water before Landry climbs up on the trunk."
# # # #
Jolene felt the car tip and the water recede. She kept herself stable as best she could. The water was at her knees and lowering. The car creaked and moaned, protesting the forces being exerted upon it. Chains held it up while water tried to pull it down.
Oh please, Jolene prayed, don't let the car rip apart. Not now when she was so close to being saved.
Jolene felt a moment of dizziness and realized she was lightheaded. There seemed to be less oxygen in the trunk. Should she yell for help? Yell for the men to hurry?
# # # #
Fireman Landry used the open back window of the car to heave himself up. He stood on the window sill, wiped the water from his face, and climbed onto the back window of the car. It was a slippery operation and Joe, like everyone else, watched with hearts pounding.
When Landry was stable on the window he yelled to the woman in the trunk, "Close your eyes, miss. I'm going to pry the trunk open."
Landry crawled on the lid of the trunk to the key hole. He took a crow bar type tool off his belt and got to work. When the trunk was ready to open, Landry grabbed onto one of the chains and swung himself off of the lid. He held onto the chain with one hand and a leg. He popped the lid open with his free hand. Everyone cheered when a dripping wet Landry gave a big thumbs up. The smile on his face said the woman was alive.
The Fire Chief called for another truck to move into place. This truck started extending its' basket ladder toward the dangling car, ready to receive Landry and the woman.
Bulka tugged on her leash and Joe looked down. "What is it, girl?" Joe followed the direction of Bulka's gaze and saw why she was excited. She had spotted someone she knew and that someone was walking toward Joe and Bulka.
"Hardy, how'd you wind up here?"
Joe smiled. "I could ask you the same thing, Whiskey."
Bulka stretched her head to Whiskey and he petted her. "Hey there, girl. You remember me?"
"I'd say she does." Joe grinned and nodded at the man standing beside Whiskey.
"This is my buddy, Shane." Whiskey hitched a thumb at his friend. "Me and him were fishing just down the river a ways when we saw the man push the car off the pier."
"Yeah," Shane said, "when we came upstream to investigate, we heard the woman screaming. That's when Whiskey called the police. We're waiting to talk to the police detective."
"Ziegler," Whiskey said. "I see him over there. He's the same one you and me talked to the other night." Whiskey was referring to the night he, Joe, and Frank had found the dead hobos.
Joe's adrenaline surged. Whiskey had seen the man. "I'm here with Ziegler," Joe said. "Bulka and I are working with him. You saw the man who pushed the car?"
Whiskey told Joe his story. Whiskey had gone back to the shipping container graveyard to get his friend Shane out of there. Whiskey told Shane about the murders and that Colonel Charles was the main suspect. Shane packed immediately and the two hobos slipped out of the graveyard around midnight.
They'd camped near the river last night and hadn't made a fire for fear of being discovered by the Colonel or one of his minions. Today, the men had moved farther down the river and then decided to fish. Their bellies were empty and their cache of food was low. They were sitting on the river bank, enjoying the morning sun when they heard a vehicle. That was a strange thing to hear out here where there weren't any decent roads. The men hid themselves in the tall grass and watched the car drive out onto the rickety pier. That had surprised them. They were sure the pier would collapse, but it hadn't. Then the driver got out and pushed the car right off the end of the pier.
"He seemed satisfied with himself," Whiskey said. "He threw something in the river, picked up his pack, and walked away pretty as you please. Walked back the way he'd come." Whiskey pointed to the west, toward the highway. It was the same way Joe and everyone else had driven in.
Joe looked at the path all the vehicles had worn into the ground and then at Whiskey. "Can you describe the man? Height, weight, hair color?"
Shane spoke up, "He's a big ass dude. Probably six-four. Looked muscular."
"He was wearing an Army jacket," Whiskey said. "It was old and faded. Probably a surplus item. Couldn't see his hair though. He had a cap on. A beanie."
"Could you guess his age?" Joe hoped for something more concrete.
Whiskey shrugged. "Thirty-ish. Hard to say. We weren't real close to him."
It wasn't much of a description, but it matched Vanessa's and Nancy's description of the man. Big. Huge. Muscular.
Ziegler signaled to Joe. "Thanks, Whiskey and Shane. Here's a card with my cell phone number and my brother's. If either of you see this man again, call me or my brother immediately."
Whiskey took the offered card. "Will do. Hope you and the detective catch this son-of-a bitch."
Joe's eyes narrowed and his mouth hardened. "I plan on it and when I do catch him, I'm going to pound him into the ground." Joe tightened his grip on Bulka's leash and walked her over to Ziegler.
Ziegler jutted his chin at Whiskey and Shane. "Those two saw our suspect. They get a good look at him?"
"Big, muscular, and wearing an old Army jacket," Joe said. "Matches my fiancée's description. She also said the man has short, dark hair and was clean shaven. Whiskey and Shane say the suspect was headed back to the highway. I figure he probably hitch-hiked into Healy or another town."
Ziegler rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "Okay, that's good info. I'll issue a BOLO. You and the dog head over to the pier and see if she picks up a scent. Maybe you two will find a clue. I'm going to interview the victim real quick before they take her to the hospital. I'll meet up with you in a bit."
"Yes sir."
Joe and Bulka headed to the pier. They passed firemen packing up gear and equipment. The truck with the suspended car had gently brought the car to the shore and lowered it. Water gushed from the bottom of the car doors, flowed down the bank, and back into the river. Fireman Landry was toweling off near the car. Two firemen were helping the rescued woman to a waiting ambulance. Medics had a gurney ready, but the woman waved it away. She was determined to walk on her own two feet. Good for her, Joe thought. Determination would get her through the next few hours.
Joe walked out onto the rickety pier, Bulka by his side. He bounced on his heels, testing the pier's stability before venturing further. Seemed solid, so on he and Bulka went. She had her nose to the wood sniffing for scents. Joe grinned. Smart dog. She knew they were looking for a bad guy.
# # # #
Nancy read through her notes. Yes, it was an avenue worth exploring. She wrote a name on her notepad, underlined it, and laid her pen down. She was starting to see double. Time for a break.
Vanessa looked over at Nancy as she rose from the table. "You found something."
"No," Nancy said.
"You wrote something on your pad," Vanessa protested mildly.
Nancy smiled at her friend. "Just a name. Someone who's background I want to check out. It's probably nothing."
"Someone Joe hasn't checked out yet?"
"He hasn't had time," Nancy said simply. She looked at the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard. Her gaze wandered across the lawn. No Frank. Wasn't he going to scoop doggie poop? Nancy glanced at her watch and her eyes widened. "Heavens, we've been going through Joe's notes for over an hour."
Vanessa got up from the table. "Time flies .."
"Frank," Nancy said, a hint of panic in her voice. "Where's Frank? He said he was taking the trash out and then he would be in the backyard .."
Realization dawned upon Vanessa and she stared, open-mouthed, at Nancy. "He, he has to be outside somewhere."
Nancy dashed to the bedroom and retrieved her handgun, a Glock 19. She returned to the kitchen, where Vanessa was leaning over the sink and peering out the window.
Vanessa turned, saw the gun in Nancy's hand and gasped. She quickly gathered her senses and said, "I don't see him outside, but the trash is gone. He obviously took it out."
"Stay here," Nancy said. "I'm going out to look at the trash container. Lock the door after I leave."
Vanessa was about to argue that last point, but Nancy's stern expression told her not to. "Okay."
Nancy left the house and stealthily crept toward the trash container. It looked perfectly fine. The lid was on it and nothing appeared disturbed. Then Nancy spied all the footprints. Tons of them. Footprints on top of footprints. The grass and ground had been damp when they were made. Now, the ground had hardened and preserved the prints.
Nancy could not determine how many men had been here, but certainly, more than two. Nancy scanned her surroundings and followed the footprints to the road. Here the prints ran parallel to the road. Again, footprints on top of footprints. Nancy followed until the prints abruptly ended in a jumble of footprints and tire tracks.
Frank had been taken, taken away while she was going through Joe's notes. Nancy berated herself for not noticing Frank's absence sooner. Frank had been gone for nearly an hour. Worried and disheartened, Nancy hurried back to the house. Joe should be home soon and she was going to have to tell him the bad news.
A/N: So very sorry for the long delay. I was out of the country on vacation with iffy internet service and then when I got home I had so many things to do and catch up on. Let me extend a belated thank you to those reviewers I did not have a chance to respond to via PM. Thank you everyone who has left a review. I do appreciate your kind words!