The discovery of Mandy Baker’s body was big news, even though her disappearance hadn’t received any attention outside of Morrison County ten years ago. It was a nightmare. Victor was in a psychotic state, spending the day rocking back and forth in his cell, the picture of madness in orange jail attire. He was sweating like an addict going through withdrawal, with his stringy, dirty-blond hair now matted to his head. Each psychotic state took twice as long to recover from than the last, and required additional medication. More meds meant more side effects, like dry mouth, poor balance, and fatigue. Victor was charged with murder and, subsequently, would not be getting out of jail to see a psychiatrist. It had been arranged, however, for a psychiatrist to see Victor at the jail. Fortunately, Dad was there, and the guards were kindly letting him assist in calming his son down. This would only last for a few days before my father would be released. Dad was facing a charge for having concealed evidence.
I had progressively become more obsessed with thinking Serena loved me the same as I loved her. I had to remind myself that, just because I felt something so intensely, didn’t mean normal people felt the same. The self-loathing that came with obsessive thinking was unbearable at moments like this. My insistence that Mandy’s case be reopened had hurt my family and broken my heart. But like all obsessive people, my solution was to amp up my obsessive behavior. I would focus on helping Victor.
Fortunately, Morrison County had a history of offering bail, even in murder cases. They typically made the bail high enough where they believed the defendant wouldn’t be able to come up with it, however. I’d been told Victor’s bail would be set at one million dollars. I would have to come up with ten percent of this to get him released, standard for bail cases. Victor wasn’t resilient enough to endure the bullying he’d receive in jail, so I had to find the bail money.
Dad and Mom were just surviving; they didn’t have any financial reserves. With cashing in the little I paid in so far in my 401k, taking out a loan on my car—which I had paid off—selling my couch, recliner, big screen TV, kitchen table and chair set, and utilizing the money I’d saved, I’d be able to come up with half of that amount. Unfortunately, my extended family was like most rural Catholic families, and had no financial resources. My generation was the first on my dad’s side to go to college. My mom’s side had some college-educated members of the clergy and Peace Corps workers, who, of course, had no money to assist. A person didn’t get rich helping poor people.
WITH DAD AND VICTOR IN JAIL, I stayed with Mom again last night to help her maintain her sanity. After breakfast, I prepared for a meeting at the investigation center. My work as an investigator couldn’t be saved, but I wanted to make an argument for Victor’s innocence before I was terminated.
I wore a white dress shirt, black tie, and black slacks, trying to look as professional as possible. I needed to convince the investigators to consider suspects other than Victor. My brother couldn’t defend himself, so I needed to, as I’d always done.
Sean, Paula, Tony, and I sat around a table in the investigation center. I launched my defense even before Maurice arrived. “Victor didn’t kill Mandy Baker,” I began. “He has no history of aggressively acting out. He went for his usual night walk, found her dead body, and buried her. He thought it was the right thing to do. People are going to hear his story and say it’s crazy, but he is crazy. Victor isn’t violent—just mentally ill.”
Sean sat back, tie hanging loose in an uncharacteristic state of disarray, and calmly asked, “Did you know about this?”
“No. Believe me, if I’d have known Mandy’s body was there, I would have reported it. Mom just filled me in on what happened.” I had to be careful how I worded everything. Mom had indeed filled me in, and had given me much greater detail than I could reveal to my coworkers.
Dad had sensed that something wasn’t right with Victor, so he immediately hired an attorney for him. He told investigators Victor was schizophrenic, and he was concerned Victor could unwittingly say something to implicate himself.
Dad questioned Victor about that night from a variety of angles for months before he finally got Victor to disclose that he had found a teenage girl’s body and buried it. However, Victor couldn’t remember where he had buried her body, and when Dad searched the farm, he found nothing. Dad wasn’t sure if he could believe Victor, and he didn’t want to get him arrested for one of his bizarre thoughts.
Only years later, when Dad was out in the rain on the farm, that he noticed the cross formed by rocks on the rock pile. After finding Mandy’s body, Dad did some research and discovered that both of her parents were dead and she had no siblings. Dad assumed Mandy had frozen to death. He decided it was better to keep it quiet, both to keep Victor out of trouble and to avoid desecrating Mandy’s body. Victor had told Dad he carefully buried the girl, and then prayed over her. Dad thought Mandy wouldn’t get a more respectful burial elsewhere. It had to have crossed his mind that turning the body over to the authorities would have also made people more suspicious of me. My parents believed Victor was honest when he told them he never killed the girl, and they eventually allowed him to resume walking again. They made Victor swear never to talk to me about it, because they knew I’d report it. They thought they were safe, but Victor trusted Serena enough to tell her, and now Victor was looking at serious prison time.
Paula looked comfortable in her usual sweatshirt and jeans. Her hair was somewhat mussed from being in the cold, windy weather earlier. She asked, “How did Mandy’s body get on your land?”
I shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.”
Tony interjected, “Mandy had been just down the road at Serena Bell’s home. Serena was the last person who was with an alive Mandy Baker and, coincidentally, Serena has recently found her way back into Jon’s life. Serena knows a lot about psychology, Jon. Certainly enough to manipulate you. Vicki did.”
Surprised, I asked, “How so?”
“She wasn’t with Lemor at 1:00 p.m. on the day Brittany disappeared. I checked her cell phone records, and she had made a call from the Little Falls area at twelve fifty-eight.”
I began questioning if there was any aspect of my life that I was handling well at the moment.
Paula smiled slightly and added, “I have some additional information on Lemor. I couldn’t get his therapist to give me any information, so I went to probation and asked for a list of sex offenders who had group treatment the same time as Jeff. I’ve been tracking them down, one by one, and found out through interviews that March thirtieth wasn’t the first time Jeff had spotted Brittany walking down that gravel road. This makes the offense premeditated.”
I realized Jeff might have failed the polygraph simply because he never revealed that he had seen Brittany make that walk on other occasions. This still didn’t mean he was guilty, but it did make him look dishonest. And now he no longer had Vicki’s alibi.
Sean said, “It’s my sense that the abductor cleaned up the scene. We didn’t find anything.”
Tony stewed as he quietly tapped on the table with his pen. “I’ve never heard of a stranger abduction case where the scene was cleaned up, and Lemor was a stranger to Brittany.”
Sean interrupted, asking, “Have you gotten the DNA report on the leather jacket yet?”
Tony shrugged it off. “No.”
Sean leaned back, rotating his shoulders. “It really seems a long shot that the same person would commit both of these crimes.”
Tony conveyed his uncertainty by saying, “It’s not as much of a stretch as you might think. These crimes happened about eight miles apart, which is nothing in rural Minnesota. Most people in this area drive thirty miles to work every day. But the jacket theory has taken me nowhere. So, I agree, I think we’re looking at two different perpetrators.”
Sean started gathering his paperwork in frustration. “I’m not going to sit and wait for Maurice any longer. We’ve got something to check out.” He turned to me and said, “It’s been nice working with you, Jon.”
Paula reminded him, “He’s not gone yet.”
Sean nodded and sarcastically said, “Right.”
After Paula and Sean left, Tony turned to me and wearily said, “I think Serena set Victor up, and I think you’re being played. You need to be careful.”
Not needing a lecture from Tony, I put my hand up as if to say, “I don’t want to hear it.”
Tony sat back and, respecting my wish, asked, “Did you get anything out of your interview with Randall Davis?”
I considered this. “I don’t think Randall knew Mandy. He made derogatory comments about every other woman we spoke of, so my gut feeling is that if he would have known Mandy he would have talked trash about her, too.”
“You’re lucky you weren’t shot again.” Tony held up his hands in retreat before I could argue. “I understand you need to find Mandy’s killer. Just don’t be stupid about it.”
Maurice entered in his gray suit and stared hard at me, as if I was the only one in the room. His white hair was ruffled. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he spoke. “I think you know what I’m going to say,” he began. “You’re done for now. I’m going to put you on paid leave, and tell people you’re still recovering from being shot. That’ll buy us a couple weeks. Hopefully, we’ll have some answers by then.”
I had no union protection, as I was on probationary status for my first ninety days as an investigator, and could be terminated or suspended for any, or no, reason. I thanked Maurice for giving me a little time. He didn’t have to do that.
When Brittany’s investigation first started, things happened so quickly it was like stepping into a whirlwind. Now I was being tossed back out.