It was business as usual at Advanced Animal Care. Wendi still had a loyal base of customers. Folks wondered about the mystery of her missing husband, but Mike wasn’t from around those parts and Wendi was. Few wanted to believe that the local girl–turned–professional woman had anything to do with the disappearance of her husband.
Wendi still had her mind on making sure Mike’s death remained unknown. She wanted to eliminate the record of her online searches into lie detector tests and body decomposition. She asked if Jamie, her veterinary assistant, knew anything about searching Internet history. “I think Mike was looking at porn on this computer,” she lied. Jamie told her what little she knew, and promised to ask her fiancé Tim Schwarz if he knew more. Tim came into the clinic and talked to them both. He explained that while you can delete the cache of files relating to browsing activity, the data still remained on the hard drive, where a forensic computer specialist could find it. Wendi processed the reality that she couldn’t conceal her tracks and put her mind to creating a reasonable and innocent-sounding purpose for her searches.
Wendi didn’t know it yet, but that wasn’t the only data that was a potential problem for her. On February 28, Special Agent McCormick downloaded the information on the tracker attached to Wendi’s car. He discovered that on February 27 at 12:30 P.M., her vehicle had traveled to a remote location near Sutton Road in Tom Green County. It had stopped briefly and then left.
McCormick and Harner contacted Palmer the next day and told him they were pursuing details about the location. The trail to the coordinates took them to gated private property, but not to the exact spot. A little digging and they knew the land was owned by Terrell Sheen. They went to his office and asked for permission to search it.
Sheen was willing to allow them on to the property, but he wanted to go with them. The three agreed to meet at the property on the morning of March 3. Sheen arrived as promised and gave McCormick and Harner a tour of the entire ranch. He allowed the investigators access to all the out-buildings and pointed out the different ponds. They identified the spot where Wendi had parked her car on February 27—it was right beside the largest stock tank of them all.
Her visit to the pond, combined with the Internet search about body decomposition, tended to lead them to the conclusion that Wendi had murdered her husband and disposed of his body on the 7777 Ranch. They hesitated, though. There were other interpretations of the facts. Terrell Sheen had close ties to the Davidson family. Wendi could have had a legitimate reason to be on his property. She knew that the Air Force had searched the swampy area near her home—maybe she was just fearful about what they might find. It all looked suspicious, but not conclusive. As long as there was any room for doubt—any possibility that Mike was alive—the Air Force deserter investigation still progressed.
On March 4, McCormick and Harner drove into town and up the Loop to the Texas Department of Public Safety building where Ranger Shawn Palmer had his office. The military investigators revealed all they had learned about the property and the forensic analysis of Wendi’s computer. Palmer contacted additional officers to form a round-the-clock surveillance of their suspect. By 5 P.M., Palmer and three others staked out Advanced Animal Care.
When Wendi pulled away from her clinic and headed home early that evening, two law enforcement vehicles were on her tail. She drove out to Grape Creek Cemetery and then over to her parents’ home on nearby Rollin Acres Road. She brought along a pistol, telling her brother, “The detectives took this to test-fire and get the ballistics off of it. They said it was misfiring, and I talked to someone else and they said it should be cleaned.”
That day, Shane Zubaty, Mike’s former roommate in Abilene, who now lived in Florida, opened a letter from Wendi Davidson:
I really wish I knew where Mike was so everyone would be at peace, but I don’t know and I realize that I may never know what happened. I have come to the logical conclusion that Mike left everything to start a new life. The other possibility is that the military may have something to do with his disappearance . . . I have two small children to raise and a business to run. Wherever he may be I love him, but I am trying to move on with my life.”
She wrote that she realized after her husband’s disappearance that she didn’t really know any of his friends and co-workers “other than he hated work and did not want to deploy.” She invited Shane to visit whenever he came to Texas, because she would like to meet her son’s namesake.
Shane said that the letter was chilling. He had heard no indication that Wendi was responsible for Michael’s death, but now he wondered. He thought about traveling to Texas, meeting her and drawing his own conclusions.
At 11 P.M., the watchers were relieved by a new surveillance team led by Detective McGuire. They followed Wendi when she drove back to her place in town, arriving at 8:18 the next morning. Nearly two hours later the men on stake-out watched as a Ford Excursion entered the parking lot and pulled away hauling Mike’s racing car.
The task force convened on the hill by the car wash over-looking the clinic at 2 P.M. In the pouring rain, the overnight team briefed them and left for home. If developments continued to progress as anticipated, a homicide investigation would soon be in full swing, making Texas Ranger Sergeant Shawn Palmer the lead investigator.
At 2:30, Palmer approached the clinic with DPS Special Crimes Sergeant David Jones. Wendi had agreed to discuss the disappearance of her husband. Initially, she appeared calm and emotionless as she answered their questions. She reiterated her story with nonchalance, telling the men about her trip to her parents’ home on January 15 and her return to an empty apartment that night.
She didn’t flinch when Palmer questioned her about searching the Internet for information about the decomposition of a body in water. It seemed apparent that she’d given it some thought beforehand. “When they searched the creek back there, I wanted to know if they would be able to see a body if someone dumped Mike there. I wanted to be prepared for what they might find,” she said. She talked about not wanting to lose it when she saw the condition of his remains after being in water for so long.
“Why did you look up information about polygraph results?” Palmer asked.
“The police just gave me a lie detector test. I was curious,” she shrugged. She rattled on a bit about her scientific nature and proclivity for questioning everything in her quest for knowledge.
When Palmer’s questions turned to Terrell Sheen’s ranch, her demeanor changed. Her eyes shifted, her posture became rigid, her brazenness evaporated. The rambling chat was over. Her answers turned short and curt. “My parents and I have access to that property,” she said.
“When were you last out there?” Palmer pressed.
“A week or two ago.”
“Why were you out there then?”
“I went with my dad to cut wood,” she answered.
“Did you go to the stock tank?”
“The stock tank?” she stalled.
“There’s three tanks out there.”
“How many have a dock?” Palmer asked.
“Well, uh, well,” she stammered, looking at the floor. She raised her head. “Just one.”
A telephone call interrupted the interview. Wendi said, “I’ve got to get that,” and explained that it was her rotation as the after-hours veterinarian on call for a group of San Angelo animal doctors.
Jason Geron was on the other end of the line. Wendi was not his veterinarian, but this was an emergency. His Bengal cat, Enoch, had been on top of the garage door when Jason had opened it. Enoch was caught between the door and the ceiling. He was in obvious pain and his leg didn’t look right. Wendi gave him directions to her clinic and then explained the situation to the investigators.
Palmer and Jones left before Jason arrived. They returned to the car wash on the hill joining the rest of the team. The injury sounded serious, making them believe they had a lot of time. They took cover from the pounding rain in a position where they did not have a total view of the clinic. They immediately decided that the ranch needed to be watched round the clock. Air Force Special Agents Harner and McCormick volunteered for the first shift.
They didn’t realize how desperate Wendi was in the aftermath of the interview. Jason entered the clinic with his daughter and his beautiful marbled dark and light brown cat. The veterinarian hurried through the examination and rushed Enoch into the back for a quick x-ray. She came back, told them the leg was not broken, gave them medication and hustled them out the door. The abruptness of the visit left Jason feeling a bit unnerved. He hoped he’d never have to rely on her services again.
Not one of the officers noticed when Wendi slipped out of the parking lot in record time. But when Harner and McCormick pulled out on the road, they spotted the red Camaro ahead of them and tailed her. While Harner drove, McCormick called Palmer and asked for instructions. Palmer told them there was no need to follow her. They needed to focus on securing the ranch. No one thought that she would be careless enough to go straight to the ranch immediately after being questioned about it. Harner and McCormick both suspected foul play now, but doubt still existed. The desertion investigation continued.
“We’ll be out there all night. We better stop for some vittles,” McCormick said. Harner pulled into a gas station/convenience store and the men stocked up.
Back in San Angelo, Palmer’s conviction that Mike’s death was homicide overrode all of his doubts. Nothing beat redundancy for making sure all the bases were covered. He sent Bill Mabe of the San Angelo Police Department out to the ranch.
Prepared for the long haul, Harner and McCormick turned off the highway and followed March Road. When they veered right, they noticed that the day’s downpours had taken a toll on the unpaved caliche surface of Sutton Road. Deep swerving tracks left evidence that someone else had traveled that way—most likely in a two-wheel-drive vehicle. When they passed the final dog-leg in the road before reaching their destination, they spotted the red Camaro. Then they saw Wendi in her blue scrubs standing in front of the gate, fiddling with the lock.
She made no attempt to avoid them. By the time Harner brought the Expedition to a stop, Wendi was standing on the driver’s side of their vehicle. Harner rolled down the window. “What are you all doing out here?” she demanded.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I came out to check on a horse,” she said with a defiant ring in her voice.
“You can’t do that,” Harner said. “No one can have access to this ranch at this time.”
Wendi walked away, opened the gate and pulled her car through. Harner and McCormick hesitated. They did not normally have the authority to stop a civilian on private property who refused to obey their instructions.
Before they could take any action, Officer Mabe pulled up. Wendi’s hands were on the gate preparing to pull it shut behind her. Mabe stopped her. “You cannot close that gate. You have to leave the property now.”
“Why? What are you doing out here?” she asked.
“Why are you out here?” he echoed.
“I have some horses on the property and I need to take care of them,” she snapped back, taking out her anger toward the San Angelo Police Department on its representative.
Mabe stood his ground. “Where are your horses?”
Wendi pointed in a southwesterly direction. “Back there. They’re in a pasture near the road.”
“How do you think you’re going to get back there in that car after all this rain?”
“There’s a four-wheeler at the barn. I’ll park the car there and take it to the pasture.” They stared at each other for a moment and Wendi broke the silence. “Okay. I told you why I’m here, so why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”
“We’re in the process of getting consent to search from Terrell Sheen or a search warrant from the judge. I’m here to secure the property until we can do a detailed search.”
Wendi’s cool façade slipped. Mabe saw no actual tears in her eyes, but her face contorted as if she were crying, and her voice wavered. Then Mabe heard a strange sound.
Wendi turned toward her car. “Oh, that’s my baby.” She walked over to the Camaro and opened the door.
Mabe saw an infant strapped in a car seat in the back. He didn’t see any rain gear in the car, and neither Wendi nor the baby wore adequate clothing for the day’s weather. He wondered what she’d planned to do with her child when she hopped on to the ATV that was exposed to the elements.
She turned back to Mabe and peppered him with questions about his presence at the ranch.
Mabe patiently explained, repeating, “We are attempting to get authorization to search the ranch.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Why do you need to search the ranch? Only Terrell Sheen and my father have access to it.”
“You need to leave, Doctor Davidson.”
Wendi did not budge.
Mabe continued. “You are welcome to sit here outside of the gate, but you cannot enter the property.”
Without a word, Wendi got into her car and backed it up to the road. Mabe closed the gate and followed her to the intersection of March and Sutton Roads to make sure she didn’t try to access the ranch by the secondary entrance.
Mabe returned to the gate where the Air Force agents waited. Wendi’s appearance at the ranch on that afternoon made it clear: the case was now a criminal investigation of a civilian. The military mission was done. Harner and McCormick stood down, turning the responsibility over to law enforcement. It was time for the civilians to gather the evidence needed to make Wendi Davidson pay for the death of airman Michael Severance.