A/N: This one is a little long. Enjoy!
Chapter 8
Sheriff Townshend's Office, Sharpsburg, Maryland, Monday at 9:00 am
"Good Morning Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan," the Sheriff smiled as he welcomed them into his office.
"Morning Sheriff. We have some more questions for you," Booth said.
"I hope I can help. What do you need?" Townshend asked.
"We were given this letter by a friend of Greg Butter's. Any ideas as to who it's from?" Booth eyed the local lawman as he handed over the note.
"Stay off my property or I'll kill you," Townshend read aloud and raised an eyebrow at the dirt.
"Were there any complaints of trespassing or vandalism around the time Sam disappeared?" Booth wanted to know.
"I wasn't Sheriff back then. I suppose it'd be in the computer. Although I have to admit, I'm not too handy with the dumb thing," Townshend smiled and picked up his phone. He dialed an extension and spoke to one of his deputies.
"John will you come in here please?" After getting a satisfactory answer, the Sheriff hung up and in a minute his deputy walked in.
"Yes Sheriff?" John asked.
"Can you pull up some records on my computer? We're looking for ones back in nineteen eighty-one," Townshend hoped his employee could help.
"All records before nineteen ninety aren't in the computer. They're in storage," John answered simply.
"Then would you be so kind as to escort Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan over there. This might give them a lead in finding Sam Butter's killer," the Sheriff smiled.
"Will do. Y'all follow me," the deputy nodded and the partners stood up.
"Thanks Sheriff," Booth said.
"Call me Bob," he told him as they shook hands. Then the partners left the office and followed Deputy John Houser out to his squad car.
"So how far is it to the storage place?" Booth asked.
"A mile or so. You want to follow in your SUV?" Houser wondered.
"We're just over here," Booth nodded. Soon all three were in their vehicles heading down the road.
"Isn't it odd that a small town like this wouldn't have records pertaining to cases before nineteen ninety in their computer?" Brennan asked.
"Considering the town has such a low crime rate, yes but that could be due to the fact that most crimes here don't involve murder. The statute of limitations runs out on most of those crimes within a five year span," her partner told her. He pulled the car up next to the Deputy's car and they got out.
"Why are we at the library?" Brennan wanted to know.
"The library and the police department share a climate controlled storage area beneath the building," Houser explained as he started heading into the building. They followed and the three soon met the head librarian.
"Morning Margot. I have to access the records storage. Mind if we cut behind the desk here?" John smiled at her.
"Not at all. The keys should be on the hook," Margot smiled back at him. Booth and Brennan then followed the Deputy behind a wall partition to a door behind the librarian's desk. A key hung on a hook on the wall just as she said and John swiftly opened the door. The deputy flicked the light switch, the three started down the stairs.
"Be careful these are a little steep," Houser warned. Brennan's heels clicked on the metal stairs. She'd been down steep stairs before without any trouble. Booth made sure that if she did fall, he was in front of her. The last thing they needed was for her to break her ankle. Luckily the trip down was fine and the headed for the section where the nineteen eighty-one files were kept.
"Now what crimes were you looking for?" The Deputy asked.
"Trespassing or vandalism," Booth said.
"The statute ran out a long time ago on those but any of the solved cases will still be here; matter of permanent record and all. Lucky for you Sheriff Mark Boyd, may he rest in peace, hung onto almost everything," John smiled slightly as he began browsing the box exteriors for the crimes the partners wanted.
"What happened to Sheriff Boyd?" Brennan wanted to know. The reference to resting in peace had her curiosity piqued.
"He was killed ma'am, shortly after Sam Butter went missing. Best Sheriff we've ever had," Houser sighed.
"Sorry to hear that Deputy. Did you know him well?" Booth wondered.
"I had just started on the force. He hired me personally. Said my academy record spoke for itself and he didn't even need an interview. He kept an eye on me and then one day there was a robbery down at the Quick Mart. Sheriff Boyd was called in when the robber, James Donaldson, took the people in the store hostage. See the Sheriff was our best negotiator. He got the hostages released except for the clerk, Jessica Mahle. Our robber knew he was in big trouble and he was using Jessi as his ticket out. Sheriff Boyd said he wanted to talk to James in person, promised they'd work out a deal. Donaldson came out of the store with his gun pointed at Jessi and said he'd let her go if the Sheriff would have everybody back down. So Mark told us to get into our squad cars. We did and that's when he aimed his gun at the Sheriff. James fired his weapon and missed Sheriff Boyd. At that point, Mark drew his weapon and fired two shots. One hit Donaldson in the leg, the other in the arm. James went down and Jessi started to run away. I got out of my car to pull her to safety and Donaldson shot her in the back. That's when the Sheriff put a bullet into his chest. A few days later, the Sheriff was found dead in his house, a bullet lodged in his skull," Houser sighed.
"Did they ever figure out who did it?" Booth asked.
"Didn't have all the fancy stuff we do now. We had a few leads and then the information dried up. To this day, we've never fingered anyone. But Jessi visits his grave every Sunday. Despite getting shot, she always thought the Sheriff saved her," John explained as he pulled three boxes off the shelf. Booth took one and the one still on the shelf and they went to a nearby table.
"So you and Jessi keep in touch?" The FBI agent wondered.
"I'd say. She's my wife," A big smile crossed the deputy's face.
"Now then these are all the petty crimes in nineteen eighty-one," he continued.
"Well we can eliminate the crimes after Sam Butter's death since we know Sam didn't commit any crimes after he was murdered," Booth said as he looked through a box.
"Sounds reasonable. Unfortunately there still seems to be at least twenty cases left over in this box," Brennan sighed.
"Well this box isn't going to help. These cases are all dated between August and October," Houser put the lid back on the box and slid the entire thing under the table.
"So it's down to half of Bones' box and this full box. The other one has cases between October and December," Booth said as he slid the one box next to the other under the table.
"Looks like we'll be here awhile. I'll go upstairs and call the Sheriff. No reception down here in this concrete storage," John said and then he quickly headed back upstairs.
"So Bones where do you want to start?" Her partner asked.
*****************
A couple hours later, the group had narrowed their choices down to just three people who had filed multiple trespassing claims. Not all of the claims had Sam Butter's name on them but a few did.
"So which one do you like the best?" Brennan asked.
"Lucky for me, Sheriff Boyd kept good notes," John pulled a small notebook out of his pocket before continuing.
"According to the notes, Mrs. Haggerty filed against Sam because he cut across her backyard. He had gone after the neighbor kid's ball. Haggerty refused to drop the charge because she claimed he did it just to ruin her petunias and that he'd done it more than once. Sheriff Boyd let it slide and told Sam when he was playing with the kid to make sure the ball didn't go over the fence again," Houser told them.
"Yeah I read the report, I don't think Mrs. Haggerty killed Sam. Besides she'd have to be ninety-five years old by now," Booth shook his head.
"Ninety-six actually. She still gripes about her petunias too every time she sees me. Seems she never got over it," John shrugged.
"Ok so that leaves Mrs. Gavrone and a Mr. Fick," Brennan said.
"Mrs. Gavrone passed away about ten years ago. Sam was helping deliver her groceries and later she caught him out in the yard. Sam said he lost his wallet and was wondering if it was laying in her front yard. But of course he was out there after dark so she called us because she couldn't see his face. Sure enough we found Sam's wallet under the stairs on the front porch," the deputy chuckled.
"So why is there a file on it?" Booth wondered.
"We keep everything on the ones who complain a lot. A few times the Sheriff has had to give them a talking to about wasting police resources," Houser explained.
"Makes sense. So I guess that leaves Mr. Fick," the G-man said. John flipped through the notebook and found who he was looking for.
"It seems as though Mr. Fick accused Sam of digging in his field. Claims that he kept finding holes out in the corn field that were too big to be from gophers," he told the partners.
"How'd he figure out it was Sam?" Brennan asked.
"I have no idea. The notes don't say anything. That's weird. Sheriff Boyd always kept impeccable notes. The reason we have all this info is because he kept this small notebook on all the people he would continually talk to. There must have been something going on at Fick's place that he left out. I still have the rest of his notes back at the station. I can go through them and see what I can find. Were you planning on sticking around?" Houser inquired. Booth looked at his watch. It was only two o'clock.
"We could help you and it'll go faster," the FBI agent offered.
"Well the Sheriffs old notes are kind of hard to read but we could give it a shot. Is there anything else we need from down here?" John asked.
"Actually, I'd like to see Sheriff Boyd's case file. I maybe able to help solve the crime," Brennan said.
"I'll get it," Houser took some of the boxes that they had leafed through and Booth took the others. They were back in two minutes and then the three headed back to the police station.
To Be Continued…