CHAPTER TWO
2176 Words
CHAPTER TWO
At the Laurel County sheriff’s office, Special Agent Daniel Lansing shoved the case file into his briefcase and snapped it shut, a smile dancing across his face. The Amber Alert issued by the Tennessee Bureau of Investigations had paid off. A frightened seven-year-old runaway had been found near the small mountain town of Mettler Ridge, unharmed, and was now overjoyed to be reunited with his parents.
Sheriff Hiram Vance stuck out his hand. “We really appreciate everything you’ve done,” he said, the sentiment reflected in his gray eyes.
Daniel had personally coordinated the search for the child, careful to keep the involvement of local law enforcement in the forefront so they didn’t feel as though the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation was stepping on their toes.
“Glad the TBI could help,” Daniel said, accepting the handshake.
He was thankful for the happy ending. Far too many missing children were never found. And a large percentage of those who were located didn’t return home alive. With the county’s rugged terrain, they were lucky the child had been spotted before he succumbed to hunger, the elements, or the forest wildlife.
Daniel remembered the last case he’d worked that stretched into Laurel County. The course of that particular investigation had not run smooth. He—along with the whole state—had been desperate to find escaped convict Ethan Barrett. The convict had murdered four people while on the loose. Fortunately, with the help of Barrett’s ex-wife, the serial killer had been taken down.
Daniel glanced at his watch. The afternoon was fading fast and he had a two-hour drive back to his home in Briarwood, a suburb of Nashville.
“If you ever need anything else,” he told the sheriff, “just give me a call.”
As he turned to go, a loud knock reverberated against the door to Vance’s office.
“Come in,” Vance called out.
The door pushed open and a young freckle-faced deputy burst into the room, his eyes wide.
“Sheriff, a woman’s body’s been found along Chickadee River,” he said, trepidation in his voice. “Deputy McConnell’s there now.”
Vance snatched his hat from the coat rack next to his desk, pressed it down over his salt and pepper hair, and looked at Daniel. “You feel like taking a ride?”
The special agent’s plans of decompressing with pizza and a baseball game vanished.
He nodded. “Lead the way.”
Daniel followed the sheriff to his county-issued Ford Interceptor Utility and climbed into the passenger seat. He listened as Vance radioed the deputy on the scene, getting directions to the body’s exact location.
Deep in the heart of the Cumberland Plateau, Laurel County encompassed mountain forestland, jagged bluffs, and a fertile valley. The area once known for coal mining was both beautiful and remote, populated in large part by families who’d lived on the land for generations.
Vance piloted the Ford up a two-lane highway, heading northeast at top speed. The patrol car driven by Deputy Carter, the freckled cop who’d delivered the news to the sheriff, hugged their tail, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Daniel had heard stories of several people—mostly d**g dealers, moonshiners, and car thieves—who had gone missing near the town of Mettler Ridge, never to be seen again. Abandoned mine shafts, secluded caves, and ancient wells dotted the landscape. Plenty of places to hide a corpse.
From the radio call, it sounded as if the body was fresh and had been found out in the open by two fishermen. This led Daniel to suspect the death may have been the result of an accident or illness. If foul play was involved, there was a chance it had been a crime of passion and not premeditated. The medical examiner had not yet made it to the scene, and it seemed the examination of the corpse had been limited thus far.
The Ford veered off the highway onto a narrow gravel road that snaked through a dense forest. Through the trees, Daniel caught a glimpse of water—which he assumed was a creek that fed from the river—outside the passenger window. The road jerked to the left and the water disappeared behind a wall of emerald leaves.
A couple of miles further up the road, Vance slowed the Ford to a crawl. The vehicle rocked as he steered the tires off the gravel and onto a dirt lane with a row of weeds striping the center. The canopy of trees overhead cast a heavy shadow over the cab’s interior.
“Old logging road,” the sheriff said.
Daniel nodded as the melody of “Dueling Banjos” popped into his mind. This was one of those days when he wished he’d never seen the movie Deliverance. He raked his fingers through his dark brown hair as he again realized the reasons the territory had been assigned to the TBI’s newest agent. Contrary to his boss’s explanation, Daniel was convinced the fact that he’d previously hunted an escaped convict in the area was only a minor factor in the decision.
As they topped a rise, two more police Interceptors came into view, parked on the lane. Vance rolled up behind the vehicles and killed the Ford’s engine. Daniel hopped out and slammed the passenger door. From where he stood, he couldn’t see or hear the river.
Vance motioned to the right. “We’ve got a bit of a hike. I hope you’re wearing comfortable shoes.”
Instead of his normal jacket and tie, Daniel had dressed in khakis, a button-down shirt, and black athletic boots at the motel that morning, thinking he would again be combing the area for the missing child.
“I’m good,” he told the sheriff.
Joined by the freckled deputy, they tramped through the thick forest underbrush with no visible trail in sight. Although it was the end of the first full week of October, the temperature had reached eighty-three degrees, according to the thermometer in Vance’s Ford. Sweat popped out on Daniel’s neck and ran down his back as he maneuvered around trees and briar bushes, following the sheriff.
About a quarter mile into the hike, the sound of rushing water hit his ears. A minute later, a break in the tree line appeared up ahead. They’d reached the river.
Vance looked back over his shoulder. “Watch your step,” he warned. “There’s a pretty steep drop-off down to the riverbank.”
Daniel heeded his words, approaching the border of the tree line with caution. In the distance below, he spotted a crumpled form at the river’s edge. He inspected the ground, making sure there were no footprints or any evidence that would be destroyed before scooting down the embankment sideways.
Nodding at the two deputies already on the scene, he inched toward the body, scanning the ground for clues as he went. The sheriff stood back, choosing to speak with the fishermen who’d made the discovery.
The woman appeared to be in her late twenties to early thirties with light brown hair cut in a short bob. She lay on her side, right at the waterline. Her mouth gaped open, a stream of dried blood running from the corner of her lips down her cheek. Fresh scratches lined her arms. Daniel recognized her outfit: black slacks and a red cotton shirt. It was the uniform worn by the servers at the local diner.
A mix of indignation and sorrow flooded his chest. He was no stranger to the reality of murder, but to see someone cut down in the prime of their life was especially troubling.
He moved closer, minding his steps, and knelt next to the body. A bullet wound marred the center of her chest. He rolled up the legs of his khakis and moved behind her, wading into the cool water. Another bullet entry point dotted the left side of the woman’s back, along with the exit wound for the bullet that had pierced her heart.
And she was barefoot. Dried blood caked her soles as though she’d been running along the rocky shoreline or perhaps through the forest. He peered up toward the trees and noticed an area where the earth seemed disturbed, as though it had caved slightly. The indentation was located in a direct line from the body. He realized the woman had most likely tumbled down the embankment.
Livor mortis—the way the blood had pooled in the body—indicated that the woman had died at the scene rather than being transported there. From the condition of the corpse, he figured her death had occurred sometime that morning.
He waded out of the river and stared at the woman’s slacks. Snags ran from the knees to the hems. Likely caused by briars in the forest.
The sheriff appeared at his side. “Gunshot,” Vance stated.
“Yeah. Two that I can see.”
Daniel didn’t want to touch the woman or roll her over to check her other side until the medical examiner arrived.
Vance rubbed his chin. “Do you think it could have been an accident?”
“No. The shot to her back was from a distance. But not the one to her heart. If you look close, you can see powder burns on her chest. Whoever fired that bullet knew exactly what they were doing.”
Vance nodded. “She’s a local. Twenty-seven years old. Her name’s Sarah Lester and she’s got a record—narcotics. Meth mostly. She’s been busted a few times. Lost custody of her kid over it.”
“So she’s divorced?” Daniel wondered whether her ex could be responsible for her murder.
“She never married. Her grandparents have custody of her kid. Word around town is that the father was a man from Nashville. I don’t think he’s ever been in the picture.”
“What about a boyfriend?” Nine times out of ten, the killer ended up being someone close to the victim.
“She’s got a live-in. But he’s been in county lock-up for the past three days. Drunk and disorderly.”
“Does she have any enemies in town?” It seemed like the sheriff knew the woman’s history.
“Nope. None that I’m aware of. I figure her death’s probably d**g related.”
“Maybe.” He guessed it was possible that the woman could have provoked her dealer’s wrath in some way. But why was she barefoot out in the middle of nowhere? She was dressed for work.
“Have the deputies found her shoes?” Daniel asked.
Vance shook his head. “They haven’t found anything yet. And likely won’t ever.”
The sheriff’s defeatist attitude took the special agent by surprise. “Why do you say that?”
Vance stared at him, a strange look in his eyes. “Mountain folk protect their own. Even if one of their kin is a killer.”
Due to the remote location of the body, it stood to reason that the person responsible for the crime was a local. Daniel knew the people living in the area tended to be clannish, but with proper detective work, most murders could be solved.
“Maybe one of the locals would c***k if the right amount of pressure was applied,” Daniel said, trying to keep the irritation from his tone.
“You’re not from around here. You don’t realize how life is. When it comes to something as serious as murder, nobody’s gonna talk to the police. Not to me. Not to my deputies. And definitely not to you.”
“But what about the woman’s relatives? Don’t you think they’d want to see her killer arrested?” It didn’t make sense for her loved ones not to cooperate. Unless they were guilty.
“Folks in these parts have their own way of getting justice. If her kin finds out who’s responsible for her murder … well, that person will most likely disappear.”
Daniel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d thought the days of vigilante justice were long gone. And for the sheriff to seemingly give up before even trying to solve the crime baffled him.
He looked back at the young woman, murdered in cold blood. She had a child. She was someone’s daughter. Someone’s girlfriend. Her life had value. Daniel wasn’t about to let her killer go free.
“I’d like to investigate this case,” he told Vance.
“You’re more than welcome to take over. But I doubt you’ll get anywhere.”
Daniel was determined to prove the sheriff wrong. He’d find out who was responsible for Sarah Lester’s murder and lock them behind bars.
But as Sheriff Vance had pointed out, getting through to the locals would be tricky. He needed someone they would trust. Someone who’d grown up in Laurel County. Luckily, he knew the perfect person to call on for help.
- Writer
