Standing a short distance from the tunnel, Detective Romero motioned for McCabe to come over.
“Tim, bring me up to speed on what you saw after Jemimah left the tunnel to call me.”
“Well, I kept going for maybe another couple of hundred feet until I reached the end of the tunnel. The bodies were closer to that side than to this one, but it’s narrower and you probably couldn’t get a gurney through that end. Toward the exit, there’s a about a forty-five percent incline and a metal grate above. I could hear voices that seemed to be coming from somewhere nearby. When they stopped talking, I moved closer and saw daylight coming through. It looked like I was right under what appeared to be the barn.
Above, I could see hay bales and the ceiling. It was light enough to make out what it was,” McCabe said as he pointed to the Crawford Ranch across the way. “See, from this point where we’re standing, I figure the tunnel ends over there at the corner of the barn.”
“Did you recognize any of the voices?”
“Sounded to me like Charlie Cooper. I’ve talked to him on and off over the past nine months. His voice has a bit of a southern drawl to it.”
“The ranch hand,” Romero said.
“Yes, and it seemed like he was talking to a woman. The voices were muffled. I couldn’t make out much of their conversation, but he kept saying ‘no’ about something.”
”How long were you down there?”
“I waited about ten minutes after they left before I pushed up the grate, but there was something holding it shut and it wouldn’t budge. Finally I heard a vehicle drive away and figured I’d better get back to Jemimah.”
“Damn, we probably passed whoever it was as we were coming in.” Romero grabbed his phone from the cruiser. He dialed the State Police asking for Police Chief John Suazo.
A gruff voice answered. “Suazo, here.”
“John, this is Lieutenant Romero, SFCSD. How you doing?”
“Not bad, Rick. What’s up?”
“We’re putting out a BOLO on one Charlie Cooper, but I need you to check whether the State Police helicopter can take a cruise up Highway 14 toward Albuquerque and see if they can spot his car, a white SUV, New Mexico License plate number KRX-061. Last seen heading south on Highway 14, destination very possibly the Albuquerque airport.”
“Is the guy a suspect?” said Suazo.
“He’s a person of interest in what appears to be multiple murders just discovered at the Crawford Ranch on Highway 14,” said Romero. “One of your people is here, and he can fill you in later.”
“Will do,” said Suazo. “We’ve got a ’copter in that area. I’ll get right back to you.”
Romero stood next to McCabe, looking at the corpses.
“Fairly small women; I doubt if any of them weighed much over 100 pounds.”
“You think one person could have done this?”
McCabe asked.
“Kind of early to make a judgment like that,” Romero said. “That’s Jemimah’s bailiwick, but she’s too unnerved right now to give us an opinion.”
“Processing the scene will take time,”
McCabe said. “Why don’t you go over and check on her?”
Romero glanced over at Jemimah’s car. She sat huddled up behind the wheel. He strolled over and knocked on her window, startling her. She rolled down the window.
“Listen, Jemimah. This is going to take awhile. It’s probably best you go home and try to unwind,” he said as he reached over to touch her face.
“Okay,” she whispered. It was still difficult for her to speak. He could see that the color hadn’t yet returned to her face.
“Hey, it’s going to be all right. Come on, get yourself together.”