Chapter 6: Average, Everyday People (Part 1)

Winterville Police Department
Later That Evening
5:00 PM

Sheriff Harrison and Detective Upton walked into the Winterville Police Department to interview Lieutenant Asher's mother, Shirley Howard, as planned. They walked down a very narrow hallway to the Observation Room, which adjoined the station's interview room. Here, they met up with Asher herself as well as Chief Porter, Detective Halstead, and Sergeant Voight.

Harrison and Upton looked through the large rectangular two-way glass window and observed Shirley Howard sitting at the table in the interview room. Shirley was a well-built brunette white woman in her mid-50's who was of medium stature. She was still dressed in her work attire, which consisted of a light brown polo shirt which had "TOWN OF WINTERVILLE ANIMAL CONTROL" embroidered on the left chest, matching light brown work pants, and a pair of steel-toed beige work boots.

"How's she holding up?" Harrison asked Asher.

Asher shrugged her shoulders. "You know Mom," she replied, "She's as tough as a damn grizzly, but I can tell this whole thing has really gotten to her."

Harrison put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "No worries, kid" he said, "Hailey and I will take good care of her. But it goes without saying, you can't be in there. We need to take extra care to avoid any hint of a conflict of interest."

"Understood," Asher replied, "I'm more than happy to stay behind the glass on this one. Will Bill be joining us?"

Harrison shook his head. "He asked to take some personal time to go have dinner with his girlfriend and their kids before we get deep into this," he said, "I didn't see a problem. He'll join us back at the camp later tonight."

The sheriff then looked over to Upton. "You ready, Detective?" he asked.

Upton nodded before grabbing a paperboard cup of coffee for Shirley. "More than ready," she replied with a certain level of confidence in her voice.

The two then went around the corner and into the interview room. As soon as the door opened, Shirley was up and out of the chair, wrapping Harrison in a hug.

"Hey Shirley!" Harrison said before giving her a peck on the cheek, "Good to see you, sweetie. I only wish it was under better circumstances."

Shirley nervously chuckled as the embrace broke. "You ain't kidding, honey" she said as she reassumed her seat at the table.

Harrison then gestured to Upton. "Shirley," he said, "This is Detective Hailey Upton. She's with the Chicago Police Intelligence Unit. Abby and I asked Hailey and some of her colleagues to help us with the investigation, so they're here in Winterville for the time being."

Upton shook Shirley's hand before putting the coffee cup down in front of her. "Hi Shirley," she amiably said, "It's nice to meet you. Please call me 'Hailey'."

"Pleasure's all mine, Hailey" Shirley replied before picking up the cup and holding it up as if she were giving a toast, "Thanks for the coffee."

"Do you need anything else before we get started, dear?" Harrison asked, "Would you like something to eat or anything?"

Shirley sipped her coffee for a moment before shaking her head. "I'm all set," she said, "Thanks."

Harrison nodded before he and Upton sat down in the two chairs opposite Shirley and the sheriff opened a WPD case file folder. "You told Officer Franco and Chief Porter that you received a call at the Animal Control office about a loose horse at the Tucker Farm," Harrison said, "Do we have that right?"

"Yeah," Shirley replied, "It was just after five o' clock. Like I said to you and Abby on the phone, I was just closing things up for the night. We usually close the office right at five, but I had a bunch of paperwork I was trying to get out of the way."

Upton shucked over in her seat and peered at the specific document that Harrison was looking at in the folder before resuming eye contact with Shirley. "This call," she said, "Do remember if it was from the Tucker Farm's landline or Nathaniel Tucker's cell phone?"

A very flummoxed look came over Shirley's face as something dawned on her. "Now that you mention it, actually" she said, "It wasn't from either one of those. The Caller ID reading on our office phone showed a cell phone number that didn't match Nate's. We have his number noted in the file."

Harrison nodded. "Okay," he replied in a very soothing tone, "That's okay. Did you recognize the number?"

"No," Shirley said, "It didn't ring any bells, but I did notice that the prefix was from Brattleboro. I must not have thought anything of it at the time since we get calls from different cell phones all the time."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Upton replied, "I mean, hey, you're only human, right?" She chuckled and flashed a smile.

Shirley shrugged her shoulders. "I guess so," she said.

"Hey Shirley," Harrison said, "Let me ask you something else here, sweetie. As you were driving up to the farm, did you see anything that looked odd or iffy? Any weird people? Any suspicious vehicles? Anything like that."

Shirley thought for a second and nodded. "I wouldn't call it necessarily suspicious," she finally said, "but there was something."

"Great," Upton said, "we're all ears."

"As I crested the big hill that led up to their property," Shirley explained, "I passed one of those big white Ford panel vans. You know, like the big companies use as work vehicles?"

Harrison noted the information down in his memo book. "Sure," he replied, "Did you see a company name on the side of the van?"

"I remember that it was a Spanish-sounding word," Shirley said, "Umm…'Fuente'? No, umm…'Fuego'? Yes, 'Fuego'. It was definitely 'Fuego'."

The woman's observation lit a light bulb inside the sheriff's mind, at which point he looked to Upton. "'Fuego Fuel Company'," he said to her, "They do sales and services of propane and diesel for homes and businesses. I think they're based in Brattleboro. That's about fifty miles from here."

He then returned his attention to Shirley. "Did you happen to get a look at who was driving?" he asked her.

Shirley shook her head. "No," she said, "The van's windows were too tinted to really see anything."

Upton then deliberately gave a look into the two-way mirror.

Meanwhile, in the Observation Room, Chief Porter nodded as he headed for the door. "I'll get on the horn with Brattleboro PD and see if anybody from the Fuego company reported any vans as stolen," he said.

Detective Halstead went to follow him out. "I'll give you a hand," he said. He got an affirmative and grateful nod from the chief in response.

Once the two men left the room, Asher and Voight traded looks. "Your detectives are sharp, Hank" Asher said, "You've done a good job with them."

Despite being appreciative of the compliment, Voight smirked in retort. "Thanks, Abby" he said, "But we both know they're a whole Ivory Tower worth of cops back in Chicago would tend to disagree."

Buccio Residence
Snowdrift Street
The Next Morning
8:30 AM

Harrison, Asher, Halstead, and Chief Porter arrived at the home of Dr. Vincenzo Buccio, his now late wife Audrey, and their 3 sons. Their residence was a fairly new white craftsman-style house that was one of the last houses on the end of the very residential Winterville neighborhood of Snowdrift Street.

The 4 officers exited Harrison's SUV to find a 2020 Dodge Charger sitting in the driveway that was colored in the distinctive dark green hue that was unique to the Vermont State Police. Harrison smiled as he saw his old friend, Detective Robert "Robbie" Mannell standing next to it.

Mannell was a petite, brown-haired white man in his late 30's who was clad in a Vermont State Police windbreaker with a buttoned denim shirt underneath, blue jeans, and white running shoes. As soon as he and Harrison saw one another, the sheriff playfully changed his voice to mimic that of a football announcer, putting a clenched hand near his mouth as if it were a microphone.

"And now," Harrison said in a deeper and more guttural voice, "Coming onto the field! The acclaimed wide receiver for the Winterville Wasps, Number Eleven, Robert Mannell!"

Mannell let out a guffaw of laughter in response before extending a hand to his old friend. "Hey Troy!" he said, "great to see you again, my man!"

Harrison returned the gesture, warmly shaking the detective's hand and reverting his voice back to his normal cadence. "Robbie," he replied, "So good to see you too, bro! Congrats on the promotion."

"I should say the same to you, Mister Hope County, Montana Sheriff!" Mannell said.

Harrison chuckled. "I appreciate that, bud" he said, "Thanks." He then gestured to Asher. "Have you met Abby Asher?" he asked.

"It's been a while," Mannell said to Asher as he shook her hand, "Last time I saw you, you were just a little pipsqueak."

Asher laughed as she returned Mannell's gesture. "Well as you can see," she replied, "I still stand at Five-Three, so that part hasn't changed. But I'm actually Troy's lieutenant back in Hope County these days."

"Good for you, kid" Mannell said.

Harrison then gestured to Halstead. "This is Detective Jay Halstead," he said, "He's with Chicago PD Intelligence. He and his colleagues will be helping us out with this."

Halstead waved to Mannell. "Hey man," he said, "It's a pleasure. I hope we're not intruding."

Mannell humbly shook his head in retort. "Not at all, Detective" he replied, "The more the merrier if it means that this piece of shit can be caught. Welcome aboard."

Half an hour later, Halstead and Asher were in the process of scrupulously searching the house from top to bottom, while Harrison stayed in the basement with Porter and Mannell. The sheriff was knelt down on the floor, studying the arterial blood spray pattern that was still adhered to the washer door. He sighed deeply as he imagined what terror that his old friend, Audrey, had gone through as she laid there dying with a slit throat.

"Hey Jayden?" he asked as he looked up at the police chief.

"Yeah?" Porter replied.

"Did Audrey or her husband ever come to you guys with any concerns before the murder?" Harrison inquired, "Out-of-place vehicles? Hang-up calls? Creepers lurking around the neighborhood? Anything?"

"They didn't," Porter said, "But there was a break-in at the house next door about two weeks prior. The back door had been forced open with what we thought was a crowbar. No signs of disturbance other than the upstairs master bedroom. Some jewelry was taken and the room was badly ransacked."

"Did they have a security system?" Harrison asked.

"They didn't back then," Porter replied, "But they had a company come in a few days ago and install one at our insistence."

Just then, Asher and Halstead descended the stairs into the basement. "What'd you find, guys?" Porter asked.

"Honestly," Asher said, "Not a whole lot. No signs of forced entry anywhere other than that window over there." She pointed. "Audrey's red Kia Telluride is still in the garage," she continued, "The interior's perfectly intact and undisturbed. The keys, her purse, and her I-Phone are all still inside."

"The bedrooms are all clean and otherwise untouched," Halstead added before he produced a small plastic baggie containing a greenish plant material, "The only hinky thing I found was this dime bag of weed. It was stashed at the bottom of a Band-Aid box in the master bathroom." He then handed the bag to Porter, who promptly sealed it in an evidence bag.

Harrison stood back up from his kneeling position and nodded. "Anything else?" he asked.

"There's a Dell PC in the living room," Asher replied, "I was able to crack the password and give it a quick look-see. There's nothing remarkable on it, really, other than a combination of Audrey and Vincenzo's personal and work-related e-mails."

"I'll have them forwarded to our Computer Crimes Unit and have them do their own deep dive," Mannell said.

"What I don't understand," Porter said, "Is why someone who kills with such precision would target a stay-at-home mom who works remotely as a part-time bookkeeper?"

"I'm right there with you, Jayden" Harrison said, "When I was a profiler during my FBI days, we'd assess victims by their level of 'risk'. I'd say Audrey was as low risk as one could get."

"And the others, too" Mannell commented, "I mean, Sam Kneeland was a retired equipment operator who struggled with depression since his daughter died."

"And Nate Tucker was a white-collar financial guy who was just helping out at the family farm when he was killed," Asher added.

Harrison pondered all this insight before putting forth a theory. "I hate to say this," he said, "But it looks like this guy is seeking out average, everyday people."