About one hundred yards from where Horton and his entourage had pulled off Route 2 to allow Evans a place to vomit and call Robbie, there were large power lines cutting across Route 2, near the corner of Shyne Road.
“Stop the car,” Evans said. He looked up into the forest near Shyne Road, where the power lines seemed to run into the woods forever. Across the street was a stream. Evans said he used to swim in it as a kid. He had even taken some of the women he’d dated to the riverbed, he mumbled to Horton, to “get laid and look at the stars.”
The incline going up the hill in between Shyne Road and Route 2 was as steep as it could be without it being a wall of rocks. There was a dirt road heading up the hill, but anything other than maybe a dirt bike would have trouble making the trip.
Horton took the shackles off Evans so he could walk up the hill without any trouble. As Evans, Horton, Murray and DeLuca began working their way up the hill, Evans took off his shirt.
“Where?” Horton wanted to know.
“Up there…past the crest in the hill,” Evans said. He seemed sure of himself. It had only been about eight months since he’d murdered and buried Tim Rysedorph.
“Shallow grave, right, Gar?” Horton asked.
“Graves,” Evans said.
Jesus.
While walking up the hill, Evans launched into a fit of rage. He began breathing heavily and pounding on his chest, screaming and hyperventilating.
At the top of the hill, he led everyone to the right, into the woods. Since it was June, the brush was thick and green, just beginning to come in. “Over here,” Evans said, walking deep into the brush, his back and chest getting scraped by prickers and tree branches.
Back down on the street, the team of forensic specialists gathered their shovels and bags, toolboxes and equipment, ready to head up.
“Why here?” Horton asked.
“I like this place.”
“Did you mark the grave?”
Evans was scanning the ground, looking for the spot, but couldn’t find it.
After about twenty minutes, Chuck DeLuca, who had been roaming around the area by himself, feeling the ground with the bottom of his shoes for a soft spot, said, “Over here, Jim.”
Evans and Horton were about fifty yards away. “Is that it, Gar?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
The location where DeLuca stood wasn’t as grown in as the rest of the area. DeLuca and Murray, along with several other members of the Bureau who had since joined them, began excavating an area about ten by ten.
Evans just stood, staring blankly as they began digging.
“We found something,” somebody said within minutes. It looked like a foot wrapped in a plastic garbage bag and taped.
Horton grabbed Evans by the arm and retreated back about twenty yards. He didn’t want Evans to see anything. Horton had done this before. He knew Evans would flip out at the sight of his own work. He needed to know where Falco and Cuomo were buried. If Evans snapped, he might stop talking.
While Evans was putting his T-shirt back on, he whispered, “I’m going to take off, Guy, and…run. I want you to shoot me in the back. You’ll be the hero.”
“Are you crazy? First of all,” Horton said softly, putting his arm around Evans’s shoulder, “I’ll miss you, Gar. No, no, no. You are not running away. I am not killing you.”
“Come on, Guy. It’ll be the perfect end to all of this bullshit.”
“No, Gar. We still have more work to do. Let’s play this out. You’re doing a good thing.”
As the crew began the horrific task of unearthing Tim Rysedorph’s body parts, Horton handcuffed himself to Evans and started walking back down the hill.
“I wasn’t taking any chances after he told me he wanted to run away,” Horton recalled later. “He was desperate at that point.”
Horton then began questioning Evans about how and where he had killed Rysedorph. Evans said he did it across the street by the river. He said they argued. He said he talked Tim into getting out of the car and then shot him in the head and cut his body up in the woods by the river.
“Show me where,” Horton said.
“Right there,” Evans pointed. There was a narrow patch of road leading down toward the river. Looking at it, Horton became suspicious of the story right away.
“Exactly where?” Horton wanted to know. “Show me the exact spot you shot him and where you cut him up.”
Evans first said it was about fifty yards in, and then he changed his story and said it was closer to the river.
“I knew he was lying to me,” Horton said later, “but I had no idea why. At that point, there was no reason to.”
After Horton got Evans to admit he was lying, and that he had killed Tim at the Spare Room II storage facility, he asked him why he had cut him up.
“You walked up that hill,” Evans said.
“So you planned this ahead of time?”
Evans didn’t answer.
“What did you do with the chain saw?”
“I threw it in the river [Hudson].”
“Great…let’s go. You can show us where.”
Horton ended up sending out a team of divers to search the area where Evans claimed he had tossed the chain saw into the Hudson, but they turned up nothing after a lengthy search.