Jeff Andrews said he’d gotten customer names from six auction houses but more were coming in. I thanked him and asked for them to be sent to my email address. We were on the road and couldn’t stick around Helena that morning, yet I was excited to compare the names later to see if there was any repetition from auction to auction. I imagined there would be some, and if we could get that same information from the other states where the bodies were dumped, I was sure we would find our killer.
Shortly after nine o’clock, we arrived in White Sulphur Springs. Given the size of the small town, finding the sheriff’s office on Crawford Street was easy. We were told to ask for Sheriff Burke directly, and we did. We waited for only a few minutes before a tall, slender man who looked to be around fifty walked out and greeted us with a hearty handshake. His daytime crew was small, and the night shift was even smaller, he said, so he was meeting with us personally. Six deputies were on the roster that day, according to Sheriff Burke, and three of them were busy with other details. He welcomed us into his office and offered us the guest chairs across from his desk.
After we took our seats, Renz explained why the FBI’s serial crimes unit was alerted to the dead man the hikers had found with the strange brand on his hip.
“We’ve literally been going in circles while trying to figure out why teenagers are being killed and dumped along interstates in Montana, Utah, Kansas, Missouri, and Nebraska. We’ve concluded that the killer has to be running a route, and since he brands every victim and obviously has a large and secluded compound, it led us to believe he may be a rancher.”
The sheriff nodded while rubbing his chin.
Renz continued. “The problem we had was not knowing where the killer’s point of origin was. We made it to Kansas after conducting interviews in Whitehall and in Green River, Utah. After the ME in Kansas enlightened us about decomp, he concluded that the point of origin had to be in Montana since the young man who was discovered outside Whitehall had the least amount of decomp.”
“Makes sense. So you obviously came back.”
I took over. “We did, and after landing in Butte yesterday, we headed to Helena to speak to the head honcho at the Department of Livestock. We were hoping to find that brand somewhere in the current registry or in the archived files, but so far, we haven’t had any luck. This morning, we got word that a deceased middle-aged man was found in the Helena-Lewis and Clark National Forest not far from here by a couple of hikers. Your ME, Lester Clark, discovered the man’s brand, alerted you, and the rest is history.”
“So two people right in our neck of the woods have been found with that same brand. What are the odds of that happening unless this area is actually ground zero?”
I frowned. “What do you mean by two people?”
Sheriff Burke shook his head as if he didn’t understand my question. “You haven’t heard?”
“No, please go ahead.”
“Jane Doe? The girl who was transferred to the hospital yesterday with a severe head injury? She also has that same brand on her hip.”
“What? Oh my God! Maybe the FBI alert wasn’t out then. We need to hear the entire story then hear what she has to say.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?” Renz asked.
“Because she’s in an induced coma until the swelling on her brain goes down.” The sheriff checked the time. “But I have the next best thing. The good Samaritans who loaded the girl right into their own car, called 911, met the EMTs on Highway 12, and transferred her to the ambulance are meeting my deputies out in the general area where they found the girl. We need to know how close that area is to where John Doe was found. There has to be a connection.”
I groaned. “You called him John Doe. He didn’t have identification on him either?”
“Nope, and no prints in the system. His wallet could have been taken by the person who shot the mountain lion, or it and his cell phone—if he had one—might have fallen out of his pockets during the tumble down the mountainside.”
I squeezed my temples. “We’ve got seven Jane and John Does already. I’m losing track of who’s who.”
The sheriff stood. “Shall we? The deputies are meeting Mr. and Mrs. Philips at the intersection of Highway 12 and Spring Creek Road in twenty minutes. I’ll lead the way.”
I leapt from my seat. “You bet. Let’s go. I can’t wait to speak to the couple who found that girl.”
“Actually, Agent Monroe, they didn’t find her. The wife saw the man who had the girl at gunpoint. He whacked the girl in the head, likely to kill her, when he realized there was a witness who could describe him. Luckily for Mrs. Philips, he ran off instead of attacking her too.”
“Geez,” Renz said. “We’re going to have a lot of questions for her, and maybe we’ll break this case wide-open after all.”
Behind the sheriff, we pulled out onto the main road and headed east on Highway 12. I could barely contain my excitement while Renz drove. We would talk to the couple and get their account of what had happened. We hoped to get the description of the man with the rifle and find evidence of either the girl having been back there or of the man’s presence in the area before he died.
“Renz, we may solve this case in a matter of days and find out exactly where that killer lives. We’re as close as we’ve ever been, and I know he’s nearby.”
Renz chuckled. “Now you sound like your roommate Kate.”
I swatted his shoulder. “Hey, her psychic ability is real, and she’s solved plenty of high-profile cases because of it.”
He raised his hands. “Okay, okay, I give up.”
“Keep your hands on the wheel so we actually arrive in one piece.”
“Yes, mom.”
Soon, the right-hand blinker of the sheriff’s cruiser flashed.
“We must be there.” I pointed out the windshield. “There’s the deputies’ cars parked on the shoulder. I guess they’re still waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Philips to arrive.”
Renz nodded.
“I have an idea.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Shush. How about the wife rides with me and I’ll talk to her, and you jump in with the husband and talk to him?”
“I have a better idea.”
My shoulders slumped. “What?”
“Let them concentrate on finding the exact area they were at first. That’s most important. We’ll have plenty of time to talk to them later.”
“I guess you’re right.”
A white sedan was coming from the east. It slowed down and clicked its right blinker. It turned then pulled along the shoulder. Both squad cars turned onto Spring Creek Road and pulled up behind the car. We saw the couple and the deputies exit their vehicles and begin talking.
“Guess that’s our cue to go introduce ourselves,” I said.
The sheriff pulled out and made the left-hand turn with Renz on his back bumper. We fell in line behind the other vehicles, then Renz cut the engine, and we exited our rental. The two deputies and the couple stood on the shoulder as Sheriff Burke, Renz, and I approached. The sheriff introduced us to Deputy Knight and Smythe and the couple. We’d said our plan was to have a conversation with them later, but first, we would follow them to the site where they’d discovered the girl.
“We aren’t one hundred percent sure where that spot is, only that we drove about fifteen minutes before we hit Highway 12.” Byron pointed at the wooded mountains in front of us. “Everything looks the same.”
I turned to the sheriff. “Was that dead man found off this road?”
“He was but farther in. There’s a trail head about five miles farther up the road, and that’s where the hikers entered. We have markers along the road that show where the first responders extracted the man.”
“That’s great. Let’s see how long it takes to reach that spot under normal speed limits, then the Philipses can see if anything in that area looks familiar. They can turn around and head south like they originally drove if we’ve gone too far. Maybe the area would appear more familiar if they were actually driving in the same direction they did yesterday.”
“I like that idea,” Tara said. “I think it might help.”
With everyone on board, Byron and Tara weaved their way north on Spring Creek Road. They would stop at the fifteen-minute mark, and we would reevaluate the area to see if we needed to continue on or backtrack. I glanced at my watch as we started out—10:13.
With Renz behind the wheel, we were the last vehicle in a row of five.
“So just before ten thirty, they’ll likely slow down, look around, or stop if they think we’re actually in the right place.”
Renz glanced out the window to his left. “I will admit everything looks the same out here. They could be off a mile or more in either direction when they stop.”
I sighed. “I know, and I doubt if finding the exact spot is going to be easy.”
Minutes later, the sheriff tapped his brakes.
“Looks like they’re slowing down,” Renz said.
The line of cars pulled off and parked next to the right-hand ditch.
“Let’s see what’s going on.” I leapt out of the car and nearly slid into the ditch.
Renz climbed out and shook his head. “Engage brain before you leap, Monroe.”
I swatted the air. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, and thanks for asking.” I hung onto the car as I walked the edge of the ditch and onto the shoulder at the front of our vehicle. “What’s the verdict?”
Sheriff Burke shrugged. “I guess Mr. and Mrs. Philips are going to cross the road. They think we’re in the general area, and Mrs. Philips said the woods seem familiar. She said she remembered a group of boulders about fifty feet in.”
“That might help since I think everything looks the same.” While they were gone, we waited at the vehicles. “How much farther are the markers? We didn’t pass them yet, did we?”
Deputy Knight looked up the road. “Nope, we haven’t passed them yet, but I believe they’re right around the next curve. The two incidents are close enough in proximity, in my opinion, to believe they’re related.”
The sheriff pointed his chin at Smythe. “What do you think, Dan?”
Smythe shielded his eyes and stared at the road. “I agree. I think the markers are right around that curve. As a matter of fact, I’ll go take a look. Anywhere between there and here, if this is the right spot, is fair game. I’ll head into the woods at the markers, walk toward you guys, and see if I spot that cluster of boulders. If not, we’ll spread out a little farther.”
“Go ahead, then. Radio me when you’re there and note the distance between here and the markers.”
“Roger that, Boss.” Smythe climbed into his squad car and left.