CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

 

 

August 15th, 2015

11:00 A.M.

Las Vegas

 

LOTT HAD CALLED Andor right after hanging up from Annie and said simply, “Get over here. This has gotten worse. We’re downstairs. And don’t touch the chicken in the fridge when you come in. Trust me, you won’t have the stomach for it.”

Then he hung up.

Andor had arrived just as the satellite images arrived from Fleet. Annie had told him that they were digging into where old busses went to be recycled or sold. So far no luck, since it was August and a lot of the school districts’ personnel were on vacation.

Each satellite image covered about six square miles of desert and there were hundreds of images, at least.

Lott put the images all on a memory stick and then plugged the stick into his television, hooking up his computer keyboard as well so the big screen worked as a computer screen.

Then he and Julia and Andor all pulled chairs from the poker table over to the big screen so they could get moderately close to it.

“So you want to tell me what the hell we’re looking for?” Andor asked, sipping on a bottle of water and patting his neck with a wet towel.

“Bus graveyard,” Julia said.

“A what?” Andor asked.

“Your partner here believes Lynch went out every month to get a victim just as West did,” Julia said.

“Serious?” Andor asked.

“Over three hundred women with long blonde hair missing since we spooked these two monsters fifteen years ago,” Lott said.

“So you think they set up their backup and escape plan then?” Andor asked.

“I’m guessing that’s exactly what happened,” Lott said, glancing at the white face of his partner.

“So we’re looking for a bus graveyard in the desert,” Julia said, “well-protected and more than likely hidden from normal view.”

“Think the busses will be buried?”

“No,” Lott said. He just knew they wouldn’t be. Again, these women were recreating in a very sick fashion that bus accident over and over and over. Lynch on the bus side, West on the mine side.

“Before we start into this,” Julia said, “Any news from headquarters?”

Andor shook his head. “Nothing but the fact that none of the jerky in any of the Lynch shops was made of human flesh.”

That jarred Lott. He had expected them to find some, at least behind the counter in some special reserve.

“So where did all that human flesh go?” Julia asked.

Lott just shook his head. “We’re missing something there as well.”

“We’re missing an entire case,” Andor said. “We got bodies, but not one lick of evidence. Nothing, and that’s driving the chief and the fine people from the FBI nuts.”

“Nothing?” Julia said.

“Nothing,” Andor said, clearly angry. “Even if we caught these two women, they couldn’t be charged with anything. They own mines. So what? West takes a vacation every month? So what? The murders pattern some tragic deaths in their own pasts. So what? No evidence, not a lick of proof so far.”

“Is the chief even going to mention them as persons of interest?” Julia asked.

“And get sued from here to Canada and back?” Andor asked. “Their lawyers are already fighting every search warrant. So not a chance.”

Lott agreed completely. He had hoped that the human jerky would be the real link. Maybe fifteen years ago, it might have been. But fifteen years ago, he and Lott put these two monsters on notice that they might get caught and the monsters learned.

“So we find their mistake,” Lott said, pointing to the screen.

They all turned to stare at the image of the Nevada desert taken from a satellite shot far overhead. The date on the image said it was taken five days before. Newer than Lott would have expected.

On the big screen, they could see almost each individual sagebrush. A large faded-yellow school bus was going to jump off the image like a bad pimple on clear skin.

Lott quickly got them through forty of the images when they found it. Sixty or more school busses filled a corner of the image, most faded to almost white, many parked within feet of each other in rows. A single dirt road led into the compound that was surrounded by what looked like a very high fence.

Julia grabbed the phone and called Annie as Lott leaned in closer, studying the area around the busses. It appeared to be in a shallow rock valley with walls on three sides. It would be impossible to see from any distance at all.

“We found it,” Julia said, putting the phone on speaker again so Lott and Andor could hear.

Julia quickly gave the picture image number.

“Tell Fleet to tread lightly with the computer searches on this property,” Lott said. “Expect the two killers to have high level warning systems on any search of this property.”

“Good thinking, Dad,” Annie said. Then, from the sounds of it, she turned slightly away from the phone. “Did you get that, Fleet?”

“Got it,” Fleet said from the background. “They will never know anyone looked, I promise. Give me just one minute, so hold on.”

Lott went back to studying the images of the busses, wishing he could fly in low like Google images did and see what was in those busses. He had a hunch he would see it much closer soon enough.

“Wampler Recyling Inc. owns the property,” Fleet said.

Lott snapped around and looked at Julia, whose eyes were wide.

“Careful, real careful,” Lott said. “But can you get us images of Wampler?”

“Why is that name ringing a bell?” Annie asked.

“Kirk Wampler was the kid who survived the bus tragedy and then was killed by a bus,” Julia said.

“These two sickos sure have a sense of irony,” Andor said.

“Oh, shit,” Annie said.

“We are being very careful,” Fleet said. “My people have gone to what we call Def-Con Five, meaning any hint of a search could explode everything.”

Lott shook his head. There would be no way in hell they could solve some of these cases without Doc and Fleet and Annie and all the power they wielded with their vast money and expert teams.

“You were right,” Fleet said. “My team is telling me that very sophisticated search alarms were set on this site. We triggered none of them.”

“Good work,” Julia said.

Lott made himself take a deep breath.

“Kirk Wampler is the founder of the company,” Fleet said after a moment. “It was started in 2001 and has a dozen business locations around the area specializing in metal repurposing and recycling. I am sending an image of Kirk Wampler to all three of you now.”

Julia quickly took her iPad and clicked it on, then got her e-mail, opening the image.

The image was of Lynch, hair very short, large fake eyebrows, wearing a three-piece suit. She disguised perfectly as a man.

“Let me guess,” Lott said. “Wampler is married.”

“In 2001,” Fleet said, “to Cynthia Peters. Picture on the way.”

Lott didn’t need to see the picture. He had no doubt it would be West.