November 1993
Abbey Wilkinson had been gone less than twelve hours. The State police had gathered box loads of material from the carnival premises. Detective McClain had ordered his officers to arrest two suspects, Charlie Baker and Kerry Johnson.
Booger was certain that Charlie Baker and Kerry Johnson were not directly involved in the Wilkinson girl’s disappearance. But they were hiding something. They knew more than they were telling. A day or two behind bars might help their memory, Booger thought. Besides, it gave him time to run their fingerprints into the criminal database. There had to be a reason they refused to be fingerprinted the night before, Booger reasoned. “The likelihood is that they have something in their past that they want to hide,” Booger had told Judge Barnie Taylor earlier that day.
After his officers had driven the two suspects away, Booger met with Captain Johnston Phillips with the State police. The captain was just wrapping up the evidence search at the carnival.
“Captain,” Booger said. “I think I know how they got the Wilkinson girl out of the haunted house.”
“OK, I’m listening,” he replied.
“There is a trap door in the floor of the haunted house. It is hidden beneath a casket. I found it last night. I went inside to a small room. There was a cage in the room. But no one was in it. On the other side of the room was a tunnel, barely big enough for me to crawl through. It came out at a sewer drain. I followed the sewer drain to an opening that came out near the trailer that caught on fire last night. Someone must have seen me. They hit me on the back of my head, and I passed out for a while. I’m convinced that that tunnel is how they moved the girl.”
“Makes sense. Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“I thought it was more important to get a search warrant and check the trailers and the offices. I figured whoever took the girl had already gotten out of the tunnel and was holding her somewhere on the grounds. But you didn’t see any signs that she was here, did you?”
“No, we didn’t.”
“Well, then, I think we need to search that room underneath the floor and the tunnel that leads out of it.”
Captain Phillips agreed. He assigned several of his officers to go with Detective McClain and search the area below the floor.
Booger took five officers with him. He located the trap door in the haunted house. It was unlocked. He opened it and shined a flashlight down into the room. There was nothing there. The cage was gone. He lowered himself down into the room. It was a crude, dirt room, small, maybe six feet deep and six feet wide, dug into the ground about four feet below the wooden floorboards of the haunted house.
Inside the room, he shined the flashlight around to all four walls. The walls were solid. There were no openings from that room. The tunnel was gone.
“Damn,” he yelled. “I was just in here last night. There was a cage in this room and a tunnel.”
Booger pushed hard against each of the four walls in an effort to determine if there was a weakness that might indicate where the tunnel was. He didn’t feel any give in any of the four walls.
He left the room and asked the officers to follow him to the drainpipe. He would try to enter the tunnel the same way he came out from it the night before.
He opened the man cover leading into the sewer pipe and dropped down inside. Two other officers entered the sewer with him. Inside, a large round pipe about three feet high and three feet wide ran on both sides of the opening. Booger followed the pipe about thirty yards until it came to another opening in the ground and another man cover.
“This wasn’t the way I came through,” he said to the officers following him. “There must be a false wall somewhere through here.”
They searched but found nothing. The tunnel Booger had come through the night before appeared to be gone.
He went back to Dudley Brown’s office, determined to ask him about the tunnel. But when he got there, an attorney representing Dudley Brown and the Fischer twins was waiting for him.
“Sheriff, I’m afraid Mr. Brown and the Fischers have nothing more to say to you. Also, I believe Judge Taylor has had a change of heart about the warrants he signed. He seemed rather upset with you, thinking you may have lied to get him to sign those warrants. I think you’ll find him waiting in your office when you get back to the station.”
Booger left without saying a word. He headed back to the station. When he arrived, not only was Judge Taylor waiting for him, but so was the Connorville Mayor, Carl Tanner.
“We need to speak to you right now, Booger,” the Mayor said, “in your office.”
“Berth, we got any coffee left?” Booger asked.
“Yeah, but it’s been sitting all day, Booger, probably a little thick by now.”
“Bring me a cup, will you, Berth?”
Booger opened his office door and motioned for the two men to come inside and take a chair. Then he held the door open until Bertha brought him a cup of coffee.
“You better tell Earl to check on those fingerprints, Berth,” he said, taking the coffee cup from her hand.”
“Yes, Detective,” she said.
Booger took a sip of the coffee, shut his door and walked over to his desk and sat down.
The mayor was the first to speak. He smiled at first. His demeanor softened.
“Detective McLain, I know that you’ve only been on the force a short time, and you are used to doing things a certain way, but I’ve got to tell you, you’ve put Connorville in an awful mess. The Fischer family has a lot of powerful friends, and that attorney of theirs has threatened us with a large lawsuit if we don’t back off his clients.”
“Mayor, I’m convinced that the owners of that carnival are trying to hide something. I’m certain that someone working for that carnival was involved in the disappearance of the Wilkinson girl. I think she may still be there. We need to turn over every part of that carnival until we find her or find what they did with her.”
That’s when the mayor’s smile disappeared. That was when Booger could see his anger bubbling up to his face.
“Damn it, Detective. You don’t have any evidence that anyone working for that carnival had anything to do with Abby Wilkinson’s disappearance. I understand even the tunnel you suspected was used to move her doesn’t even exist. I also know that your whole damn investigation so far has been centered around that carnival. You haven’t bothered searching the woods around that carnival. You haven’t searched for her outside of the carnival grounds. It seems pretty damn obvious to me that if she was abducted by someone at that carnival that they would try to get her out of town. Yet, you haven’t set up any roadblocks. It is also just as possible that the little girl wandered off from the carnival grounds. We should have search parties looking for her. Yet you persist in harassing the owners of that carnival, a carnival that, by the way, has never been accused of anything like this before.”
The mayor wasn’t done chewing him out.
“As if that wasn’t the low point of your incompetence, you lied to Judge Taylor to get him to sign search warrants. That’s enough to land your ass in jail, Detective. You’re lucky we haven’t fired you yet. I’m sure that is coming, but we have to straighten out this cluster fuck you caused first.”
“Mayor, you can think what you want to, but I didn’t lie to Judge Taylor to get those warrants signed,” Booger said.
It was Judge Taylor’s turn to speak up.
“You told me about the room underneath the floor of the haunted house and the tunnel that led from it to near the newbie’s trailer, the trailer that caught fire last night. You told me someone hit you over the head as you were exiting that tunnel. Those were the statements you made that gave me cause to issue the warrants. Now I find out that the tunnel doesn’t exist. I also talked to Jed and Earl to verify your statement that you were hit on the back of the head, leaving the sewer drain. Neither of them saw blood on the back of your head. Both said you were found outside of the drains partway to the trailer. Isn’t it possible that you were closer than you thought to the explosion, and it knocked you down, causing you to be dazed or maybe pass out?”
“No, that’s not what happened, Judge. I told you I was hit just as I exited the man cover over the sewer pipes. Everything that I told you was true. As for the tunnel, I was inside it. I know it existed, and Bryan Fischer even confirmed that the tunnel was down there, built to drain water.”
“Well, that’s strange,” Judge Taylor said. “Bryan Fischer said he never said there was a tunnel underneath the haunted house. He said there may have been a small trench dug to run off the water, but it certainly wasn’t a tunnel.”
“Judge, he’s lying.”
“You know, Booger, I’ve been a Judge for nearly thirty years, and I’ve heard a lot of stories over those years, some true, some lies. I’m afraid the garbage you told me to get those search warrants doesn’t pass the smell test. I have rescinded those search warrants and instructed the State police to return everything that was taken from that carnival. I have apologized to the owners, and I expect you to do the same. We’ll be damn lucky if they don’t sue us. Also, I want you to release those two workers you have in jail. Apologize to them and then drive them back to the carnival and do it now.”
“Judge, I have the right to hold them for forty-eight hours to give us a chance to run their fingerprints through the criminal database.”
Judge Taylor shot back a nasty look.
“You mean the fingerprints that were the result of the warrants I issued for those two workers based on the false information you gave me. Come on, Detective, you’re smart enough to realize those fingerprints are useless now. You can’t use them. Now, set those two men free.”
With that, Judge Taylor and Mayor Tanner stormed out of the police station.
“Earl,” will you come in here, please?” Booger said, holding his door open.
“Yes, boss.”
When Earl entered, Booger shut the door. “Earl, did you hear back about the suspect’s fingerprints?”
“Not yet.”
“OK.”
“Earl, I want you to contact the reserve officers and any volunteers you can get to scour the woods around the fairgrounds for Abbey Wilkinson. You and Jed meet them at the edge of the carnival parking lot. Start searching in sections based on the number of volunteers you have so no one is more than three feet apart. Look for anything that might be important, footprints, clothing, blood, anything. I’ll meet you out there as soon as I can.”
“Yes, boss.”
Booger opened his office door and motioned for Earl to leave.
“Come on, Jed,” Earl said as he left the room, “we’ve got work to do.”
Bertha was waiting for Booger when he came out of the office.
“Everything alright, Bugger?”
“Yeah, it will be fine, Berth.”
Booger went through the back door where the jail cells were located. Charlie Baker and Kerry Johnson were in the same cell.
Booger took the key, unlocked the cell door and said, “Alright, Mr. Johnson, you’re free to go.”
“What about a ride back to the carnival? It’s about two miles from here.”
“Well, it looks like your legs work just fine. Maybe if you are lucky, someone will give you a ride.”
“You are a real sweetheart, Detective. What about Charlie?”
“He’ll be along in a while. I’ve just got a few questions for him.”
“The lawyer already got to him. He won’t tell you anything. You’re wasting your time, detective.”
“Maybe, we’ll see. Now get out of here before I find some reason to keep you.”
Once Kerry Johnson had left, Booger closed the door leading into the jail cells. He turned to Charlie Baker and said, “I sent your buddy away, Charlie, so he wouldn’t know we’re working together.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Detective? I’m not working with you. My attorney told me not to even talk to you,” Charlie said.
“Well, I thought you might reconsider talking to me. You see, we got a hit on your fingerprints in the criminal database.”
Booger hadn’t heard back on the fingerprints. But he knew that Charlie Baker didn’t know that. Booger was betting that Charlie Baker had a criminal record that he wanted to hide by not volunteering to give his fingerprints. His gamble paid off. By the look on Charlie’s face, he had a dark past.
“It just so happens, Charlie, that I have a get out of jail free card that you can use with the promise that you’ll get the hell out of this county and promise to never come back. All you have to do is tell me everything you know about the disappearance of Abby Wilkinson.”
Charlie sat down on his cot in his cell. He put his hands over his face and hung his head. He sat that way for nearly a minute before talking. “I don’t know anything about that little girl. I wasn’t even inside the haunted house when the girl disappeared.”
“But you know something, Charlie. I can tell.”
“OK, I did see Barney Jacobs and Jim Latham pack up and leave the carnival grounds last night. They thought I was asleep, but I wasn’t. Jim told Barney that Dudley had told them to go to a cabin near the lake. He said the cabin was about five miles away. He said the cabin was set back in the woods about a mile east of Hollow Road through the woods. He said there was a path about half a mile in the woods that led to the cabin.”
“Why did Dudley Brown want them to go to the cabin?”
“I don’t know, Detective.”
“Were Barney Jacobs and Jim Latham involved in the disappearance of Abbey Wilkinson?”
“Detective, I don’t know anything else. I’ve made a habit of not paying attention to other people’s business.”
Booger turned around and opened the door. “Berth, do you know where Hollow Road is located.”
“Yeah, Booger. I know.”
“Can you show me on the map?”
“Yes.”
Booger grabbed his County map and then walked over to Bertha’s desk. “Can you circle it for me, Berth?”
She circled the location, and then Booger returned to the cell where Charlie Baker was. He unlocked and opened the cell door.
“OK, your free to go, Mr. Baker.”
“Go where? I’ve got a bum leg. I can’t walk.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. I’ll drive you back to the carnival.”
Booger drove Charlie back in a Connorville police car. He chose to take the route most likely used by Kerry Johnson to walk back to the carnival. He did that on purpose. About a mile from the fairgrounds, Booger drove right past Kerry Johnson.
Kerry stopped and looked as the patrol car passed him. He spotted Charlie Johnson in the passenger seat.
“Shit, Detective, why did you drive right past him. He saw me in your car. He’s going to think that I talked to you.”
“Yeah, that’s probably the case, Charlie. And he’ll probably tell Dudley Brown and the Fischer boys. You may not feel very welcome there once they hear you were talking to me.”
“Booger pulled a card from his shirt pocket and handed it to Charlie.”
“I can protect you. If you have any more information, give me a call.”
Booger dropped Charlie Baker off at the front gate to the carnival and drove off. He wanted to find that cabin as soon as possible. The sun would be going down in a couple of hours, and it would be hard to find at dark.
Bertha’s directions got Booger to Hollow Road. It was a narrow gravel road that ran parallel to the very southern edge of the lake just inside the State park. It was a desolate area with few houses. On both sides of the road were dense woods. Summer houses and cabins were set back in the dense woods far from the main road. Booger didn’t see another car on the road that afternoon.
Finding the cabin that Charlie Baker talked about was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Every dirt road, every path that intersected with Hollow Road, was an area that Booger had to check. He would drive up the dirt road as far as he could and then would get out and walk until he reached the home nestled back in the woods. He looked for lights or any movement inside. He went up to the windows and looked inside. He listened for voices. From one house to another. After the first four houses, the sun had fallen below the horizon. His flashlight and a half-moon partially covered by clouds provided the only light.
By midnight, he had checked a dozen homes. There was no sign of anyone staying at any of them. When the sun went down, the temperature fell. It was a cold November night, unusually cold for that time of the year. A light layer of frost was forming on the grass. The moon had disappeared behind a wall of thick clouds. A fog was rolling in from the lake, and a light rain began to fall. It was a miserable night.
Hollow Road ended when it intersected with Rural Route 2. Booger could see the car lights from the intersection just twenty yards ahead. He slowed his car to a crawl and used the spotlight on the side of his car to look for a dirt road or a clearing of some sort. The rain was falling heavily now. Visibility was near zero. The glimmer of a spotlight shined off gravel in a narrow clearing just to his right. He stopped the car. The path was extremely narrow, with tall, thick oak trees on both sides. It looked like a path made by small all-terrain vehicles.
Booger turned his car onto the narrow path. It was barely wide enough for his car to fit between the tree lines on both sides of the path. The path weaved between trees. Booger struggled to keep his car on the path. A quarter of a mile in, the path went down a steep hill. The rain, coming down in sheets now, made it impossible to see the water covering the path at the bottom of the hill. The car sank into two feet of water that had accumulated from the heavy rainfall. Booger was stuck. His tires were buried in the muddy bottom. He could drive no farther.
So, he got out of the car with his flashlight and waded through nearly waste deep water until he reached the incline on the other side. From there, he walked through the mud up a large hill, following the narrow road until it connected with a foot trail. The fog thickened the closer he got to the lake. The rain was coming down sideways now crashing directly into his face. He was cold and wet, and his heart was racing.
This has to be the area,” he thought. It is exactly how Charlie Baker described it.
The flashlight that provided his only sight was beginning to dim. The battery is going bad, he thought.
He would only use it sporadically when it was absolutely necessary to guide his way. He turned the flashlight off, using the flashes of lightning in the sky to guide him and the feel of the muddy trail below his feet to keep him on course.
Through the fog, there were eerie flashes of light followed by thunder. For a second or two, the area around him was visible in a sea of shadows. It was during one of those flashes of light that he saw the cabin in front of him. This had to be the place. He was certain of it.
As he got closer, he could see a single light coming from inside the cabin behind the shades covering one window. He moved to one side of the cabin, away from the light. He listened for any sound. There was none. At the rear of the cabin was a single 4-wheel, all-terrain vehicle. He touched the hood above the engine. It was warm. Someone had driven it recently.
Booger pulled out his gun and lifted it. He moved to the back door and turned the knob. It was locked. He went around to the front of the cabin. It was a small, wooden fishing cabin. At the front was a wood porch that extended the entire width. He walked as quietly as he could up the steps. They were old, creaky steps that gave slightly under his weight. He was certain they were noisy, but with the heavy rain, his approach to the house would not be heard by anyone inside.
He was two steps from the front door when he heard the shot, then another, then two more. The shots came from inside the cabin. Booger reached for the doorknob. It was locked.
“Police,” he shouted, just as he raised his leg and gave a strong kick to the door. It swung open, and Booger raced inside. He led with his gun as he moved toward the rear of the cabin. “Come out with your hands up,” he yelled.
There was no response.
Holding his gun with his right hand and the flashlight with his left, he worked his way to a closed door at the back of the cabin.
When he reached it, he stayed off to one side as he turned the handle to the door. It was unlocked. “Police,” he shouted again. Drop your gun and put your hands in the air.”
Again, there was no response.
He turned the door handle with his left hand and opened it just slightly. Then with his left foot, he kicked the bottom of the door, forcing it to open all the way. He held his breath, expecting a gunshot. But it didn’t happen.
The cabin was completely dark. The one light he saw inside the cabin earlier when he was outside was no longer on.
He lifted his flashlight and turned it on. The battery was completely dead. He tried desperately to adjust his eyes to the dark, to try to see something, anything ahead of him. It was no use.
When a bolt of lightning struck close by, and the flash of light illuminated the room for a split second, Booger made his move, charging into the room. He heard the glass break and saw the body go out the bedroom window just as he came into the room. He raced to the window, but before he got to it, he stumbled and fell. Something on the floor had blocked him. He lay on the floor, briefly dazed, as he heard the engine of the ATV start and then move away.
He had landed on his head when he hit the wood floor. His flashlight and gun went flying when he collided with the floor. The impact of the flashlight hitting must have shaken the batteries inside enough to turn on briefly. The light from that flashlight illuminated the two bodies lying on the floor, the bodies that Booger had tripped over in his effort to get to the window.