Pursuit of Justice (6 page)

Sheriff Adams took a deep breath. A spark of determination flared in his eyes. “Sure would like to catch the man who brought murder to our community.”

“We all would,” she said. “Any idea what happened out there?”

“Speculation, Agent Jordan. I hesitate to say because I haven’t found a single lead.”

“That’s why we’re working together. What have you done to this point?”

“Interviewed Carr, Lydia, and Jasper. Another man helps part-time, but he’s been in Mexico.”

Probably undocumented. But his citizenship status doesn’t make him guilty of murder.
“I’ll want to talk to them too.” She wrote down more memos.

Adams lifted a couple of sheets of paper from his file and pushed them her way. “Here is the transcription of our findings. Oh, I’ve ordered the phone records on the three victims and Carr.”

“Thanks. That will help so I don’t duplicate things. Anything else I need to be aware of?”

“We’ve searched through the house and brushed for fingerprints. We’re working on the barn, horse stalls, and tool shed. I’ve gathered up every bit of trash and assigned a couple of men to that detail. I believe they have some obscure items you might want to examine, but nothing substantial.” Adams sat calm and relaxed. His gestures were not demonstrative, neither did he sit rigid, and he hadn’t touched his face. Eye contact was good but not forced. Unless Sheriff Darren Adams had acting experience, he was not deceiving her.

“You’re thorough.” She met his gaze and hoped he saw the respect. “I’d like to talk to the men who’ve gone through the house and whoever is working trash.”

“Sure. You planning to give trash detail a little help?”

“Actually, I am.”

“Gotta hand it to you,” he said. “You don’t mind getting dirty.”

“Oh, I brought gloves.”

He chuckled and she joined him. She desperately needed to trust Adams, and although all the signs were there to believe him, the truth could bite her in the backside if she wasn’t careful. “I’d also like the cell phone records for Lydia and Jasper—if they have cell phones.”

“I’m sure they do.”

Bella picked up the file, anxious to get started on her part of the investigation. “How soon can we visit the crime scene? I’d like to look around before diving into other areas.”

“Sure. I need to check on a couple of my men first. And I have a call to return.”

“Guess I’ll check with your men about the trash, see what they’ve put aside for me.”

Vic cleared his throat from the doorway. “Uh, Bella, I’ve got a message from the field office in Dallas. Then I want to talk to Jasper and Lydia.”

“I’ll be outside.” Adams rose from the table. “It’ll most likely be tomorrow before I have the results of the bullet dug out of your tire.”

Bella remembered country time versus city time and the resulting frustration. She’d have to put a little rocket fuel into the investigative engine.

Chapter 6

Bella strode down the back porch steps toward Sheriff Adams, who still had his phone to his ear. While he handled his call, she made small talk with the deputies who were going through trash. The temperature was rising, so she wrapped her jacket around her waist. One of the men handed her a pair of rubber gloves, no doubt thinking she wouldn’t assist. But she pulled them on and laughed about the large size. Her own were in her bag, but this appeased the deputies, and she needed to demonstrate she was a team player. She’d dive into it until the sheriff completed his call.

All of the trash from Carr’s house and barns had been gathered the day of the murders and, according to Sheriff Adams, the men found nothing. Since then, they’d added more green bags with the nifty yellow ties to the growing pile from the house and barn. One of the bags had shredded papers from Carr’s library. She tagged that one to send to the FBI lab in Quantico, Virginia. A special department there would piece it together.

In the heat, the stench from the food waste wafted through the morning air and gagged her. She’d seen a compost heap on one side of the barn and was thankful she didn’t have to go through that. But the findings might add critical evidence to the case, so she continued to work alongside the deputies and echo their displeasure with the task. As she completed each bag and grimaced with the maggots pilfering through them, she wished for once that Frank had been assigned to this case too. Not because this part of the investigation was unpleasant, but because she felt unsure about her assignment. However, she’d not ask for any partner other than Vic, even if it meant working 24-7 to solve the murders in a reasonable amount of time.

She stretched her back and glanced at Sheriff Adams, still involved with his call. One of Carr’s dogs nuzzled at her leg. She pulled off her stinky glove and let the animal sniff the back of her hand before patting his head. Snatching up another bag, she noted this one had come from the barn. What luck.

“Do you think this is going to take all day?” Sheriff Adams said, startling her. She hadn’t seen him approach. From the look on his face, he’d taken her handling of the trash as a personal affront rather than a willingness to help, and she could feel the iciness.

“It could, but it won’t.”

“Glad to hear you’ve decided the Runnels County Sheriff’s Department does know how to handle routine procedures.”

She didn’t need an enemy here. Time to rein in her controlling personality with a generous pinch of Southern charm. “Sheriff, I have no doubt you and your people have followed this investigation to the letter. I’m not second-guessing you or doubting your ability. I’m simply the type who has to see things for herself.” She gestured to the two deputies, who were listening to every word. “And I wanted to help.”

“I understand, ma’am.” He relaxed slightly. “This investigation has all of us edgy. Anything I can do here?”

“Nothing, really.” She pointed to the tagged bags. “Those are finished. I need to know where to place them for disposal.” She didn’t envy the deputies assigned to this mess. “Can you take me to the crime scene?”

“I’m sorry, but there’s been an accident on 277. That and two other emergencies need my attention. Unfortunately, I need a couple of my deputies. One of the perils of the county sheriff’s department. Never enough personnel.”

She masked her irritation with a smile. “That’s a problem everywhere.”

He shifted and glanced toward the house. “What about Carr? Two of my deputies are at the scene if you feel uncomfortable about being alone with him.”

The sooner she got her car back the better. But as much as she detested riding in a truck with a suspected murderer, this would give her time to befriend Carr and see if he spilled any more of his guts. “That’ll be fine, Sheriff.”

“How about first names? We’re going to be spending some time together with this investigation.”

“You’re right, Darren. I’m Bella.”

Once in Carr’s truck, she allowed the air-conditioning to chase away the perspiration trickling down the sides of her face. The leather seats were cool too.

“Brought you a cold water.” He set the bottle in the cup holder between them.

“Thanks. Just what I need.” She wrapped her fingers around the icy wetness, then twisted off the cap, listening for the familiar snap to release the seal.
Drop the paranoia. Carr Sullivan, even if he had shot the three men, wouldn’t poison me at a ranch swarming with deputies and another FBI agent.

“How’s the trash detail?”

The sarcasm in his voice annoyed her, but she’d keep her feelings shelved. “Smelly and filled with maggots.”

“You’re not going to find anything, unless the person who stole my rifle planted incriminating evidence.”

“This is part of my job.” She took a long drink. The water, mixed with the air-conditioning, gave her a new spurt of energy.

“Must be why I didn’t choose law enforcement.”

“Real estate, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure you know everything about me, including my blood type and whether I prefer my Mountain Dew in a bottle or can.”

“Bottle.” She laughed. “AB positive.”

“Good job. Where are you from?”

“Houston.” At least right now.

“This dry heat must be a shock to your body.”

More shock than he could imagine. “I think I might get real seasoned out here.”

He pressed his lips into a lopsided grin. “Oh, the relentless sun has softened me up.”

“Wasn’t it hard? I mean leaving Dallas and the good life to go cold turkey in total isolation?”

“I welcomed it, like a deer pants for water.”

Carr Sullivan wasn’t the first murder suspect to quote Scripture—or kill, as if God had sent him as an avenging angel.

“But,” he continued, “there were a few adjustments. I traded using my head for dirtying my hands. Tossed the gym for breaking my back. Swapped my three-figure cologne for sunscreen.”

Witty. She liked that. Kept life interesting. “Any regrets?”

“Only the events over the past few days.”

“You mentioned that before. Have you remembered anything else?”

“Not a thing. I’ve turned my mind inside out, even rethought the phone conversations to see if I missed a clue or detected an attitude. Nothing.”

“If something comes to mind, no matter how insignificant, I want to know right then.”

Carr pulled his pickup alongside a deputy’s car and disengaged the engine. “Here we are.”

Bella peered up at the magnificent stone butte. Amazing. Even when she lived in this area, the structures had captured her attention, as if a giant had taken a sword across the top of a mountain, then used it as a table.

“Gorgeous, aren’t they?” Carr said.

“I wonder what secrets lie there.”

“Centuries of stories, I’m sure. What can I do to help?”

Bella drew herself back to the present. “All I need is for you to wait until I’m finished. I want to check out the crime scene and walk the area.”

“I haven’t done any searching myself. Darren spent most of the day combing the area yesterday, and I steered clear of their investigation.”

She raised a brow, ready to recite the law regarding entering a crime scene, but he raised his palm. “I’m not talking about the taped section but the outlying area. So can I join you once you’re finished there?”

“I think you already know the answer. Darren couldn’t risk your jeopardizing the investigation and neither can I.” When Carr frowned, the banner of whether or not he was guilty marched across her mind.

“The protocol here stinks.”

“I don’t make the rules, Carr. I simply do my job.”

He gave her an obligatory nod and stepped out of the truck. She opened her door and slid out of the seat into a boiling temperature that felt about as welcome as the rattlesnakes and scorpions lurking under the rocks. Carr waited for her near the hood; then the two walked together toward the deputies.

Carr shook each one’s hand. “Mornin’, Sam, Wesley. I’d like for you to meet Special Agent Bella Jordan from Houston.”

She chose to keep her creds tucked in her purse and flashed a smile instead.

The older deputy shook her hand. The younger man greeted her. “I’m Wesley Adams. Welcome to West Texas.”

Bella made the same small talk with them, just as she had at the ranch house.

“Her car met with a little accident this morning,” Carr said. “And I’m being her chauffeur.”

“A good one, too,” she said, adding as much friendliness as possible. “I’m going to look around. Don’t mind me.” She hoisted her heavy bag onto her shoulder, remembering she’d added a camera and handheld voice recorder. While the men talked, she made her way to the yellow-taped area. Kneeling to the side of where each body had lain, she checked to see if anything caught her eye. Nothing. If there had been anything, it was gone now. She snapped a few pictures to go over later, even if they were over two days old.

The report stated each man had been shot in the head execution-style. That seemed more like Richardson’s mode or that of someone he would hire. Whoever had done this had to be a crack shot. Just like the one who had destroyed her tires.

“Ma’am,” Deputy Myers said. “I’ll show you where we found the horse tracks.”

She followed him west of the crime scene.

“The footprints you see here are the deputies’. Out there is where I think the killer dismounted.” He pointed, and she followed.

The fading horse prints were a disappointment, but he informed her that the area had been swept for any traces of hair follicles. She snapped a few more pictures and wrote a quick note to see if horseshoes could be traced. As Darren stated earlier, the shooter had brushed away any traces of where he’d walked across the dry earth. A mesquite branch lay near the horse’s tracks, probably the one used to conceal the evidence. But the shooter had to have slipped up somewhere. She stood. Wide-open spaces in every direction, except for the butte. According to Deputy Myers, the horse’s tracks led beyond the High Butte to a county road where tire treads indicated the killer had parked a truck and trailer. That was the sheriff’s department’s theory. All before six in the morning.
Why didn’t the killer walk from the road?
She spoke into her handheld recorder and wrote the question on her notepad.

Bella turned to take in a 180-degree view. The killer had to know the layout of the land and exactly where the victims were digging. But there were no signs of a dig. For that matter, did the three find what they were looking for? If Carr didn’t kill them for trespassing, then they must have uncovered something of value—valuable enough to pay for in blood. As much as she wanted to believe the business executive–turned–rancher hadn’t killed them, the suspicions continued to mount.

Off to her right, several feet away, a figure moved, and she swung her attention in that direction. Carr walked slowly northwest from where she’d planted her feet.

“What are you doing?” Annoyance sent a memo to her logic. Was he looking to cover up his own tracks? “Are you destroying evidence before anyone finds it?”

Carr stopped and motioned for her. “If I wanted to look innocent, I certainly wouldn’t be out here. I’d be home talking to a fancy attorney about my rights. Anyway, I’ve found something.”

She hurried toward him while biting back a caustic remark. “What is it?”

“A candy bar wrapper.” He pointed to the ground. “I’m not picking it up and putting my fingerprints all over it.”

She stood beside him. Her mind spun, and she reached inside her shoulder bag for her gloves and a plastic bag. “Thanks. It’ll be interesting to see the prints on this one.” She picked up the wrapper and sealed it in the bag.

“Hope so.” He studied her every move, making her uncomfortable. “You see, Jasper is diabetic, and even if it came from Ciro, his favorite is Snickers, not Godiva, like this one. This brand costs a few more pesos.”

They were at least eight hundred feet from where the authorities believed the shooter had killed the men. With the wrapper secure in her bag, her gaze followed a straight path to the road. Could it be the sheriff’s department had not looked this far?

Carr joined her, which set in the uneasiness again. Just because he’d found a shred of evidence didn’t mean he’d been cleared.

“Not a law written says I can’t walk across my own land.”

“True, but if you try to obstruct my investigation, you’re out of here.”

He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. And for the record, I’m not a candy connoisseur.”

She’d like to cram his humor back down his throat. Her gaze swept around them. Trodden underbrush indicated someone had passed through en route to the road.

“The likelihood of one of my men or even me using that road is slim.” Twice he bent to examine the brush but then moved on without a remark.

They continued to make their way along the edge of his property where the deputies had scoured yesterday.

“Let’s walk north and see what we find,” Carr said. “Darren told me this morning they didn’t search much farther from here.”

“As if the killer looked for his best advantage.” She questioned why the deputies had been satisfied with what they’d found and not extended their search.

Bella was the first to see a heel print dug into dry earth. She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out her camera. Several more prints took form until tire treads revealed the man had driven away. She snapped a few more photos.

Carr measured the boot print with his own foot. “This is about a size twelve. I’m an eleven.”

Bella sensed a catch in her chest.
Control.
She peered around him. Jasper and Ciro most likely had small feet with their Hispanic ethnicity. “Could be one of the deputies.”

“Possibly. But it’s the best we have so far.”

We?
And she didn’t need a reminder of her lack of evidence. “Mr. Sullivan, you are not a consultant on this case.”

“You’re right. I’m a suspect determined to prove my innocence.”

Bella snapped a picture of the boot print. Recognition software would provide some answers. She climbed over the fence and walked a few feet down the dirt road away from where it looked like the killer had parked. Her father wore a size twelve. So did Brandt. Two details she remembered about these men.