Saving Cecil (23 page)

My nightmare had come true!

Rage, that anyone, crazy or not, would do such a destructive deed overwhelmed me. Blood pounded in my ears. It was difficult to know what to do next, but one thing was certain: I had to reach my phone charger. If I didn't, Luther was going to bleed out back at the hog pens.

The fact that I'd made it this far gave me hope that Junior wasn't hiding somewhere, watching the well, especially if he was intending to ignite the blast with a rifle shot. But I didn't think that was his plan. When I saw the phone parts and det cord back at his man cave, I got the idea that he was going to use a homemade remote detonator, so I made a dash for the doghouse.

I took the stairs in two steps, jerked open the door and dove in. Tulip jumped right over me and I kicked the door closed and locked it. I didn't turn on any lights. I didn't really need to. It was getting lighter by the minute. Keeping my head below the window level, I crawled to my drafting table, reached up, and felt around for my charger.

As soon as I plugged in the iPhone, I dialed 911, explained the desperate nature of Luther's wounds, gave them instructions on how to reach him and what to look for. Then I called Jackie's cell and laid out the grim facts for him, including who Junior was and what I thought he'd done.

“Sooo, we're dealing with a mental patient who's also on crack?” the unflappable Jackie asked against background shuffling that sounded like he was pulling on his clothes.

“‘Fraid so,” I said. “What's company protocol with a possible bomb?”

Without a second's hesitation, Jackie said, “We're to keep the well area clear of all crewmembers and civilians and be available to render assistance to a professional bomb squad … oh, and keep a record of everything that transpires.”

“Good to know. I want
you
to call 911. I've already called them about another emergency at the other end of the property, but I didn't mention the bomb to them to avoid confusion. I'll meet you back here at Lauderbach #1 as soon as I take care of it.”

“Another emergency?”

“I'm pretty sure Junior stabbed Mr. Lauderbach's farm manager, so be careful. Keep your eyes peeled.”

“You too,” clipped Jackie.

Still crouching, I gathered what I thought I'd need: my phone, its charger, Schmid and Medlin's first aid kit, a handful of survey flags, and a packet of hand towels from the bathroom. Wishing I hadn't left my canvas tote in Junior's shed, I shoved what I could into my jacket pockets. Then I booked it for the Hummer, praying Junior wasn't taking a bead on Tulip and me through the scope of a rifle.

I skidded to a stop on the side of the road at the location I'd given to the 911 operator, turned on my hazards, and unplugged my phone, hoping it had been plugged in long enough to store a little charge. Then Tulip and I took off at a dead run again, heading for Luther. Every fifty feet or so, I'd stop and jab a survey flag into the ground. I knew I needed to call Chris, but I couldn't talk and run, so I just kept running. It wasn't long before I could hear a cacophony of sirens from the direction of the well.

When I reached him, Luther's condition was unchanged: unconscious, but still breathing. I tried to rouse him several times, but couldn't. Though the feed bag I'd placed under him was soaked with blood, the bleeding had stopped. I placed a thick pad of paper towels over the wound and called Chris.

“What the hell's going on?” he blurted. “I just heard the call go out for the bomb squad out there. Everyone's been called in … ”

“There's a bomb strapped to the well!” I said, cutting him off abruptly. “And Luther, the farm manager, has been stabbed. Both acts, I believe, done by the same … maniac, Junior. Remember, the one you were told wasn't a hunter.”

“Slow down. Start at the beginning,” Chris sputtered.

“Just get to the well,” I said, hearing the voices of the EMTs coming through the woods. “I'll meet you there.”

“Wait! Where are you now?”

“Down by those hog pens I first told you about … with Luther. Gotta go!” I disconnected and waved frantically for the rescuers.

As soon as I'd told them who I was and how Luther came to be injured, Tulip and I hustled back to where I'd left the Hummer.

TWENTY-FOUR

Nothing's worse than when
you need to get somewhere in a hurry, but everything seems to be moving in slow motion. That's how it was for me heading back to Lauderbach #1. I gunned it down straight stretches and slid around curves but the dirt roads still felt like salt water taffy. After what seemed like an eternity, I made it back to the site, but I couldn't even get close to the doghouse for all the emergency vehicles in the way.

I parked behind a horde of Lee County law enforcement cars, fire trucks, and other emergency vehicles, and Sheriff Stuckey's Interceptor. After I'd cracked the windows and locked Tulip in, I scanned the crowd of firemen for Jackie. Then I saw him and the rest of the crew. He had called them off Lauderbach #2 in case they were needed. Their familiar Schmid & Medlin hard hats were clustered together in a tight little grouping. I headed toward them but only got a few steps. A fireman rushed up to me, wanting to see my identification.

I showed it to him, explained who I was, and asked if he knew where I might find Detective Sergeant Chris Bryant. “No, ma'am,” he said. “But you're free to proceed at your own risk. Turn your cell phone off and keep it that way until the device has been disarmed. Also—” Just then, someone connected with him through his helmet phone. He listened, then said, “Chief says everybody has to move back another hundred feet as quickly as possible. Oh, and better move your vehicle too.”

Not a good sign
. I jogged back to the Hummer and moved it where Jackie and the crew were relocating the company pickups. I reassured Tulip again, got out, and went to stand with them. “Can you believe this shit?” Jackie asked bleakly.

“No,” I replied. “I guess by them moving us farther away, it pretty much confirms that the object I saw taped to the cap is a bomb.”

“Looks that way,” he said, his eyes glued to the proceedings taking place at the well. “Ever seen a blown well?”

“Thankfully, only on television and company safety videos,” I said.

“Same here.”

About that time I caught sight of Chris pow-wowing with Sheriff Stuckey. After a brief conversation, the two of them walked to within a few feet of us and Chris motioned for me to join them. I did.

St
uckey had nothing to say to me—apparently Bud's strategy of an arrest for an arrest was still working—so I turned to Chris and asked. “How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad,” he said. “It's big enough that we don't have a bomb disposal unit sufficient to take care of it, so we're waiting on one from Raleigh.” He checked his watch and continued, “Once they get here, we'll know more. Now, tell us what happened with the man who was stabbed and start from the beginning.”

I relayed the events of the long evening, starting with flagging Lauderbach #3, then on to Luther finding me and what he told me about Junior's mental health issues and use of heavy drugs. When I got to the part about Luther tricking me into getting locked up a second time, Chris gave me one of those looks like Ricky used to give Lucy when she'd really botched things. “What?” I said, daring him to say anything.

“Nothing,” he sighed. “Go on.”

“Well, the rest of the story is simple. After he locked me in, he stood outside the door and told me he was going to set everything right. But here's the weird part. When I told him I knew about Butcher and the hog hunts and that you guys were going to put a stop to them, he freaked. He said that Junior loved Butcher and he didn't know what Junior might do if anything happened to Butcher.”

Stuckey looked like he was trying to put on a game face, but I could tell he was behind in the program. He looked at Chris. “You talking about the kid you've been investigating on the Baker death? The religious nut?”

Suddenly it was my turn to be behind. “Wait. What?” I said, “You mean you've been investigating Junior?”

“Yes,” he said calmly. “I told you I was following a lead on a ticked-off creationist. Well, he and Clinton had worked up quite a hatred for each other. They were on opposite sides of the pole, you might say, when it came to evolution. But, my investigation of him only started there. It didn't take much digging before I found clues that his past might have been troubled with drugs and mental illness.”

“Good grief!” I practically shouted, my hand planted firmly on my hips. If you knew all this about him, why didn't you bring him in before now, before he strapped a bomb to his parents' only hope for saving the family farm? For that matter, why didn't you say anything at lunch yesterday when I told you he was likely a serious bow hunter? Why didn't you tell me then he'd been a mental patient and had a crack cocaine problem? You might've saved everyone a lot of heartache!”

“Calm down,” Chris said patiently. “Most of that information was sealed so it took a few days to get the actual facts. I got confirmation on his mental illness and drug use—the actual sealed files—late yesterday before I left to go home. I was going to ask the sheriff to issue an arrest warrant this morning.”

Stuckey gave me a smug look, then turned to Chris and asked, “You have sent someone over to pick him up, haven't you?”

“Wow,” I said to Stuckey. “Looks like you're going to have to arrest someone for a murder that isn't even related to me.” He wisely ignored me.

“Yes sir,” Chris said, answering Stuckey's question. “The moment I got Ms. Cooper's call, I sent a team to the Lauderbach home to bring him in for questioning.”

“What about Butcher?” I asked. “Did you arrest him this morning? Did Bud leave the property like you told him?”

“Yes and yes,” Chris said. “We weren't planning on holding Butcher, but now … if there's a chance of some association with our murder suspect … ” He motioned to a uniformed deputy to join us.

“Harris,” Chris addressed the deputy. “Go back to the courthouse. Have them hold Butcher over for more questioning.”

The deputy went to do Chris's bidding and Stuckey looked at me and asked, “Have you got anything else to add about this situation?”

I had a few more choice comments regarding his finally taking some interest in finding Clinton's real killer instead of trying to nail me for it, but I resisted the impulse. Still I couldn't actually bring myself to have a conversation with him so I said, “Not to you, I don't.”

Chris said to Stuckey, “When I took statements from the Lauderbachs, the kid's parents, they told me he didn't hunt. I don't think they were lying, but in light of all that's gone on this morning, I'll do a thorough search of the home again, this time with the arrows in mind.”

“I think I may have a good suggestion as to where to look,” I said to Chris. “There's an old chicken house out back of the main house. I was told it's never used, but I've seen Junior and the housekeeper come out of it.”

Chris shook his head in appreciation. “Thanks for that,” he said. “We'll check it out too.”

In the distance I could hear the prolonged, pulsing wail of the bomb disposal truck as it blasted down the back roads skirting Sanford. It would be here in minutes. “Good,” I said. “Because besides being the creep that put the bomb on the well cap and stabbed Luther in the back, I'd bet my life he stabbed Clinton Baker too. In fact … ” I said, giving voice to thoughts that until now I hadn't put together. “I think I know where the murder weapon is and who helped him hide it and … ”

I was interrupted when an enormous vehicle, which looked very much like a box on wheels, followed by another more specialized Lee County emergency vehicle, arrived on site. As we watched them go by, I deduced the first vehicle was used to detonate bombs because the words, “explosive disposal unit” were plastered across the sides, and the second, more specialized truck, was used for detecting, identifying, and disarming explosives in place. Chris turned his attention back to me.

“What were you saying about the murder weapon?” he asked impatiently.

“I think it was one of the knives they use around the farm to open feed bags and cut hay twine. They've got fixed blades, are about six inches long, and have black plastic compound handles. The blades are hooked on the end and serrated on top. Luther told me he buys quite a lot of them because the kids tote them off and forget where they put them … ”

Chris made a rolling motion with his hand.

“Anyway, seems logical that's what Junior used. He probably keeps it in the canvas knapsack I saw him sling over his back when he came out of that chicken house I told you about. Or, he could have been very clever and put it back in the barn. If I were you, I'd round up all of them I could find and test them for blood.”

“We'll take your suggestions under advisement,” Stuckey said snidely as he turned on his heel and abruptly left our company to join a group of deputies, the fire chief, and one of the bomb disposal experts. Jackie and his men joined Chris and me. We watched the activity at the well for a time.

“You know,” Jackie said. “I spent some time with Sara, the sister of the guy y'all think did this, and I remember her saying he was majoring in animal science and would one day run the farm. That doesn't sound like your average run-of-the-mill bomber.”

“That turned out not to be so,” I said, figuring all Junior's lies and deceit were about to be made public anyway. “He was actually majoring in religious studies with a minor in business.”

“Business was likely what he and Butcher had in common then,” Chris said.

“Good point,” I said. “Butcher is a businessman. He had an elaborate plan for a hunting community on this property. He probably started hunting out here, became friends with Junior, showed an interest in him maybe his dad hadn't.”

“Right,” Chris said, following the thread. “Therefore the deep attraction for Butcher that Luther told you about. When I interviewed him, he struck me as a very slick guy. Kind of the used car salesman type. Maybe he saw a weakness in Junior … his knack for failure, addiction to drugs … whatever, and exploited it. Probably told him he'd make him a business partner if he'd help him get the land developed.”

“I think you're on to something with Butcher dangling a partnership in the land development business as a carrot,” I said. “Maybe Junior saw a big flashy residential community as a way to prove himself. And more importantly, Sara said Junior already had a job lined up.
And
, she said it was up north somewhere. Baltimore is north of here. Do you think this infatuation with becoming a big land developer could have led him to kill Baker?”

“Maybe,” Chris said. “After all, we're talking about a mental patient with a penchant for cocaine. Still, I caution you, we're only speculating here.”

“Understood,” I said. “But you'll get to the bottom of all this. I feel confident of that.” I wasn't sure, but it could have been that the detective blushed a little before he turned his attention from me to a sheriff's deputy who'd jogged over to our little group and asked for the site manager. Jacki
e held up his hand. “Head of bomb disposal wants to go over with you what they did to the well cap,” he said, then turned and addressed the rest of us. “The area has been secured. It's safe as far as the bomb goes and you can use your phones now, however, the sheriff wants the whole farm locked down until they catch the bom
ber.”

“I'm afraid that won't be possible,” Jackie said to him.

Nonplused, the deputy answered “The sheriff won't take no for an answer.”

“Then take me to the sheriff,” Jackie said, but I could see that wasn't necessary. Stuckey was headed back our way.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“There's no problem,” Jackie said. “Just a slight conflict. I understand you have our safety in mind what with a lunatic on the loose, but I have our jobs in mind. We're under orders to keep working 24-7 as long as the rig is on site. We were right in the middle of setting it in place when this happened. We've lost enough time already. Now, I'm glad to hire private security to stand guard, but I figure in th
e time it would take to do that, you'll have your man. It'd be a lot simpler if you could spare someone to watch over us and it sure would be appreciated.”

Stuckey stiffened his spine and glared at Jackie. Jackie did the same right back.

“I reckon you already know this, Sheriff,” I said. “There's at least three of these crewmen and maybe more that have relatives in this area and they all vote.”

Stuckey eyed the crew. They nodded affirmatively.

“Jasper,” Stuckey said to his deputy. “Keep a man posted with these gentlemen.”

“Okay, fellers,” Jackie addressed the crew. “Miz Cooper and I'll make sure everything's squared away here and then I'll be right along. Now get back to work.”

Jackie and I listened as the disposal expert explained that the bomb, while deadly and packing more than enough explosive to blow the temporary cap to kingdom come and ignite the highly pressurized gas below, was amateurish and easily disarmed. He was telling us that the well cap itself had suffered no damage when suddenly there was a flurry of excitement among the sheriff and his deputies.

Radios crackled messages unintelligible to me, orders were barked by Stuckey, and like magic, all the cars, including Chris's Crown Vic, took off, leaving behind only a cloud of dust.

Jackie looked at the explosives expert and me. “Reckon that means they found their man?”

“Looks like it to me,” the expert said. Jackie and I started to leave and he added, “Before I go, I'll make a few more photos for our records, then cordon this area off as a crime scene. The D.A.'s office will have to clear it before we take it down.”

“Sure,” Jackie said. “Take your time.”